They led me along in silence to the fire, before which, with his back turned towards it, stood a short man, with a sallow, stern countenance, and a great, broad forehead, his hair combed straight over it. He wore a green coat with white facings, and over that a grey surtout with fur. I am particular about all this, because this little man was a person of consequence.
“You are late, Monsieur de Hoogendorp,” said he, in French; “it is half-past four;” and so saying, he pulled out his watch, and held it up before me.
“Ja!” said I, taking out my own, “we are just the same time.”
At this he stamped upon the ground, and said something I thought was a curse.
“Where are the Echevins, monsieur?” said he.
“God knows,” said I; “most probably at dinner.”
“Ventrebleu!——”
“Don’t swear,” said I. “If I had you in Rotterdam, I’d fine you two guilders.”
“What does he say?” while his eyes flashed fire. “Tell La grande morue, to speak French.”
“Tell him I am not a cod fish,” said I.