“Why, that in itself is already a grave misfortune; you know how expensive moving is in India. Then comes the question, where shall I be sent to? You do not suppose that they will give me a lucrative place. For years and years I shall have to face very serious pecuniary difficulties and, meanwhile, it will be impossible for me to do for my dear family that which it has now so long been my pleasure to do.”
“Come, come,” replied Charles van Nerekool, “cheer up! Even if it comes to the worst, some remedy will be found for that at least—I can promise you so much at least.”
“But, my dear Charles—that is the smallest misfortune that can happen to me. Every other possibility is simply terrible. Just think—what if they dismissed me from the service altogether?”
“Now,” said Charles, “you are exaggerating. What in the world have you done to deserve dismissal! On the contrary, you have secured for yourself the esteem and admiration of every honest man.”
“Honest man!” said Verstork bitterly, “oh you don’t know with whom I have to deal!”
Van Nerekool’s face twitched painfully—he had learned to know something of the man with whom his friend had come into collision.
“But,” continued he as cheerfully as he could, “but can we not think of some means of warding off the blow? Can we not manage to avoid even the least of these misfortunes?”
“Aye,” cried Verstork, “that is the very thing I have been cudgelling my brains about?”
“Have you any friends at Batavia,” asked van Nerekool, “do you know any one there?”
“Friends? yes, I know one man, a certain Mr. Reijnaals.”