“I shall take good care not to go making inquiries into your secrets behind your back, Francis.”
“My secrets!” she exclaimed, her voice quivering with indignation. “There is no secret in the matter. It is a question of a dreadful accident, which happened on the public high-road in the presence of a crowd of spectators attracted by the noise; but the occasion was not lost to set public opinion against me. Was it not Major Frank, who never acted like anybody else—Major Frank the outlaw! It would have been a pity to let such an opportunity of blackening her character pass. I ought to have reflected that you would have heard the story; and very likely you are come here ‘to interview’ the heroine of such a romantic adventure. It would be a pity you should lose your pains. There’s the farm—go straight on and ask the people to tell you all about the affair between Major Frank and her coachman Harry Blount; both the man and his wife were witnesses. And, Jonker van Zonshoven, when they have satisfied you, you may return to the Werve to take your leave, and return as you came.”
And off she ran, without giving me time to answer, leaving me in a state of terrible confusion.
One thing at last seemed clear to me; I had lost her for ever. Should I follow and overtake her? She appeared resolute to tell me no more. Yet I must know more! I could neither stay at the Werve nor go away until my doubts were cleared up.
I went on to the farm, and was soon served with a glass of milk. The farmer’s wife seemed to know all about my visit, and thought it quite natural for the Freule to send me there for a glass of new milk. She was loud in her praises of the Freule, said her equal was not to be found in the whole aristocracy, “so familiar and kind-hearted, but at times flighty, and then she goes off like a locomotive”—she pronounced it “leukemetief.” But it would be impossible for me to reproduce her Guelders dialect; and, to confess a truth, I had myself sometimes great difficulty in understanding her.
She showed me the farm and the dog, a splendid brown pointer who allowed me to stroke him, probably for his mistress’ sake. Once the good farmer’s wife had loosened her tongue, she rattled away with great volubility—
“Yes, she was sorry the General was no longer their landlord; but Overberg was not a bad fellow—he had made many repairs, and even promised to build a new barn which the General would never consent to. It was a pity for the man! A good gentleman, but he took no interest in farming; the whole place must have gone to wrack and ruin if the General had not agreed to sell it before it was too late. The Freule was sorry, for she liked farming; she had learned to milk, and talked to the cows just as if they were human beings. And horses—yes, Jonker, even the plough horses, before they go out into the field in the morning, she talks to them. My husband was groom to her grandfather, in his youth; I think I can see the greys she used to drive with so much pride, and Blount the coachman at her side, as proud as a king, with his arms folded, and looking as if the team belonged to him. Oh dear, yes! And now all that grandeur has disappeared. The beautiful carriage-horses are sold, and the Freule has only her English horse which my husband stables and grooms for her. What a sin and shame it is when the gentry fall into such decay! And the family used to be the greatest in these parts, and good to their tenants. My parents and grandparents always lived on the estate; but oh, oh! since the marriage of the eldest Freule Roselaer, they have never prospered. What can I say? ‘A house divided against itself cannot stand,’ as the Scriptures tell us. The Jonker has certainly heard of all these things?”
“Enough, Mrs. Pauwelsen, more than enough,” I responded, for the good woman’s chatter was becoming insupportable. I hastily took my leave of her and arrived just in time for breakfast; in fact, I was in the breakfast-parlour before either the Captain or the General. Francis was alone, but when she saw me she left the room under the pretext of seeing if the tea-water boiled.
“Stay, Francis—I think I have a right to a kinder reception.”
“On what do you ground your right? Have you now satisfied your curiosity?”