“Ah, don’t disturb me … I only mean to say, that during the evening one is more susceptible (gemüthlicher). So when the sun set, I became a better man, as the first proof of my improvement may show, and said to the little girl—
“ ‘Now it will soon be cooler.’
“ ‘Yes, sir,’ she replied.
“But I lowered my dignity still further, and commenced a conversation with this poor creature. My merits were still greater, because she replied little. I was right in all that I said; which is annoying, even in spite of one’s arrogance.
“ ‘Should you like to go again to Taloh-Baleh?’ I asked. [[196]]
“ ‘As you please, sir.’
“ ‘No, I ask you if you think such an excursion agreeable?’
“ ‘If my father does,’ she replied.—Was not this enough to anger me? Well, then, I did not get angry, the sun had set, and I felt myself good (gemüthlich) enough not to be disheartened by so much stupidity; or rather, I believe, I began to enjoy hearing my own voice,—for few amongst us do not like to listen to their own voices,—and after my muteness during the whole day, I thought, now that I did speak, it merited something better than the silly replies of ‘Si Oepi Keteh.’
“I will tell her something, I thought, then I shall hear it too, without wanting any replies. Now you know that, as at the unloading of a ship, the ‘Kranjang’ (cask) of sugar last put on board is the first to be taken out, so we generally unload first that thought or tale that was acquired last. In the periodical paper, ‘Dutch India,’ I had read not long before a story by Jerome, ‘The Japanese Stone-Cutter.’… This Jerome has written many beautiful things. Did you read his ‘Auction in the House of the Dead’? And his ‘Tombs’? And, above all, the ‘Pedatti’? I will give you the last. I had just read ‘The Japanese Stone-Cutter.’… Now I suddenly remember that my anger that day was connected with the perilousness of the Natal roads.… You know, Verbrugge, that no man-of-war can approach these roads, [[197]]certainly not in July.… Yes, Duclari, the rainy season is there at its height in July, quite different from here … now then, the perilousness of these roads was linked with my mortified ambition. I had often proposed to the Resident to construct at Natal a breakwater, or at least an artificial harbour at the mouth of the river, with a view to bring commerce into the district of Natal, which unites the battah districts with the sea. One million and a half of inhabitants in the interior do not know what to do with their produce, because the Natal roads are so bad. Now then, these proposals had not been approved by the Resident, or at least he asserted that the Government would not approve of them, and you know that the Residents never propose anything but what they know pretty well beforehand will be agreeable to the Government. The making of a harbour at Natal was in principle contradictory of the separate system; and far from encouraging ships there, it was even forbidden to admit ships with yards on the roads, unless in case of superior force. Yet when a ship came—they were mostly American whalers, or French ships that had loaded pepper in the small independent countries on the north side—I always caused a letter to be written by the captain, wherein he asked permission to take in fresh water. My anger about the miscarriage of my efforts to do something for the benefit of Natal, or rather my offended vanity at being still of so little consequence that I could not even have a harbour [[198]]made where I liked, and all this in connexion with my candidateship for the ruling of a solar system,—all this made me so peevish that day. When I recovered a little at sunset, for discontent is a sickness exactly,—this sickness reminded me of the Japanese stone-cutter, and perhaps I only thought this history aloud, in order to take the last drop of the medicine which I felt that I wanted, whilst I imposed upon myself by saying that I did it out of benevolence for the child. But she, the child, cured me, for some days at least, better than any tale.