"Hm!" said the Dutchman. He stuck the paper mouth-piece with the cigar back into his mouth and shuffled back on his slippers to the out-house, the while a remarkable stirring seemed to be going on in the brains underneath the black cap.
A moment later Elsje came. This time she blushed deeply when she saw me, although there was now really less reason for it than last time. But I knew it was joy, for I also saw her eyes sparkling.
"Oh, is it you!" she said with restrained surprise. "Did you wish to speak with me?"
"If it is convenient to you, Juffrouw Van Vianen?"
"Just step into the upper room. Didn't your French friend come with you?"
"I crossed the sea alone. The other gentleman is a Hungarian, and not a particular friend of mine either."
"Oh, good!" said Elsje, leaving me in sweet doubts as to what she found good.
We went into the upper room. I can remember a red table cover, cane chairs, a crocheted cover over a tea-set, horrible steel engravings on the walls. Everything lovely and adorable - what would I not give to see it once more! But "de Toelast" has long since been rebuilt.
I felt somewhat embarrassed, yet not oppressed. I refreshed myself by gazing quietly into her soft, bright eyes. I could see only the eyes clearly. Whether the face was pretty or homely I could not judge. It was too intimate, too beloved, too much a part of me.
"Did I guess rightly that you stood watching on the pier out in the rain only on our account last Sunday?"