But at length, thank God, Charles had fallen into a deep sleep; he was not destined, however, very long to enjoy that blissful rest.
“Toeaan! Toeaaan!” Thus once again the voice began to cry. It was the voice of Verstork’s servant who had got the watchman of the guard-house to wake him, and was now very cautiously trying to rouse his master out of his sleep.
But the Javanese servant felt that he was engaged in a very ticklish duty; and he set about it with all the circumspection which he was aware such unpleasant duties required.
He knew, by sad experience, that European gentlemen are apt to lose their temper when suddenly, at a very early hour, they are aroused out of a delightful sleep; therefore, on all such occasions the wily Javanese serving-man preferred to keep at a respectful distance from his Kandjeng toean, who, he knew, might at such a time be easily moved to raise his hand and deal him a sound box on the ears for his trouble. Not that Verstork was at all given to such rough usage of his servants; on the contrary, he was known and beloved among the natives for his kindly consideration, and for the coolness of his temper. But this was a wholly exceptional occasion, and one could never tell what the sudden irritation of being roughly shaken out of a pleasant slumber might produce. It was very easy to get a good slap in the face, and therefore the astute Javanese prudently kept himself at a safe distance.
“Toeaan! Toeaaan!” he ventured to say again in a very intense drawling whisper. But Verstork did not hear him.
“Toeaan! Kandjeng toeaan!”
Still not a word!
Then the servant very cautiously crept up to the couch. When he was close to his master he again cried out, in a still more subdued and still more drawling voice, “Toeaaan! toeaaaan!”
Still Verstork stirred not a limb, only van Nerekool seemed to have caught the sound, and was beginning to move about restlessly.
Then the man, very gently—so gently that it could not disturb the sleeper—began to fold back that part of the rug which covered his master’s feet. The faint glimmer of the lamp which hung dangling from one of the rafters, just allowed him to see what he was about. When he had laid bare one of Verstork’s feet, he began very, very gently to tickle his master’s great-toe, while in the same cautious manner he again whispered “Toeaaan! toeaaaan!” and seemed, by the very humility of his voice, to beg pardon for the liberty he was taking in rousing his high and mighty master.