Frantically I strove to make an observation in an easy friendly way, but all my Dutch seemed to have deserted me.—At least all I judged suitable.
Fragments of conversation did float through my agonized brain, but none of them was quite what I needed.
“Ik graauw, ik kef en kweel” was out of the question.
AN INNOCENT OBSERVATION.
Two proverbs suddenly flashed across my mind, and I gripped them firmly. One was: “Een vogel in de hand is meer waard dan tien in de lucht,” and the tempting parallel offered itself: “Eén broodje in de hand is meer waard dan tien op een bord.” As this aphorism, however, didn’t sound extra civil, I let it pass.
“Deugd en belooning gaan zelden te samen” was the second proverb; and on that model I managed, after due cogitation, to construct a nice harmless phrase. As it expressed what we all knew and could see before our eyes, I felt safe against contradiction, and I knew it couldn’t hurt anybody. This dictum ran: “Koek en boterham gaan dikwijls te samen.”
Perhaps it was owing to the suddenness with which I proclaimed this truth, or to some severity in my manner; but the effect produced on the company was magical.
Jaap dropped his fork with a clatter and said, “Gunst!” The mother put her hand to her chest, whispering. “Zoo’n schrik!” All looked startled and stopped eating!
HALF-ELF.
To divert the scrutiny of so many eyes, I manufactured talk on the first thing that occurred to me, and, reverting to the Dutch prices, said: “Sommige artikelen in Holland zijn duur. Van morgen heb ik een plaat bezichtigd—een poes opgerold over een kannetje melk—de zee in de verte. Prachtig. Maar peper-duur. Tien gulden en een half.”