“Indeed I should,” replied the Dominé, triumphantly, thinking of the Horst. “Never should I allow my own interests to influence me. Be sensible, Klomp.”
But at this moment a welcome diversion occurred. Mietje, the child, came running round the cottage with pitiful cries.
“Pussy!” she screamed from afar; “oh, father, pussy! The rope broke, and she’s dropped into the well!”
She was sobbing and shrieking; nobody scolded her for her mischief-making. Pietje started up with eager words of comfort.
“Father would get the ladder. Father would go down into the water. Father would fish out pussy.”
Klomp was already up and away. The two girls hurried after him. The Dominé was left alone.
“Well, I have done my duty,” he mused, retracing his steps. “The best of us can do no more.” He was a very good man. He had a good man’s weakness for consciously doing his duty.
As he turned into a little brown hollow all checkered with sunlit tracery, he saw Otto van Helmont come vaulting over a stile.
“Ah, Dominé, I was looking for you,” said Otto. Then they walked on side by side, and gradually an embarrassing silence settled down between them. The Dominé broke it.
“It is a very fine day,” said the Dominé.