But it was of no avail. The servants—poor fellows—kept rushing about filling up the glasses; but the wine seemed to have lost its power.
“Two millions once!
“Two millions—twice. Will anyone bid higher? Two millions—for the third time!”
Bang! down came the hammer.
“Subject to the approval of the Dutch Government,” said the Resident impressively, “I declare this opium contract to be assigned to Lim Yang Bing!”
At these words all the officials crowded round their chief to wish him joy on his brilliant success; while most of the Chinamen pressed around Lim Yang Bing to congratulate him and shake hands with him.
Laurentia took care that another round of champagne should set the seal on the bargain. There was, of course, a great deal of excitement for some time, and much enthusiasm was displayed; but whether any one present bestowed even a passing thought upon the poor unhappy dessa-people, out of whose scanty means and enfeebled frames this enormous sum was to be wrung—that we cannot undertake to affirm.
Yes, there was one man who did think of them; and that man was van Rheijn.
He looked sadly up at the portrait of the king as he asked himself whether it could really be his royal will that such things should go on among his subjects. Alas, the dumb canvas could not answer, and the picture of the sovereign gazed down quietly upon the noisy crowd.
Scarcely had the Resident got rid of his visitors before he rushed into his study, and soon returned with beaming countenance, bearing in his hand two telegrams, each couched in precisely similar terms.