“Java middling, fine, yellow, Cheribon coffee, slightly damaged,”
which interested me much, for I am very inquisitive. Suddenly I observed a gentleman standing next to me in front of a bookseller’s shop, whom I thought I had seen before, though I endeavoured in vain to recollect him. He, too, seemed to recognise me; for every moment we looked at one another. I must confess, that I really was too much interested in the adulterated coffee immediately to observe, what I saw afterwards, viz., that his clothes were very shabby; otherwise I should not have taken any notice of him; but all of a sudden I thought, perhaps he is a commercial traveller for a German firm, which is in need of a trustworthy broker. He had rather a German face, and appeared something of a traveller too; he was very fair, with blue eyes, and had something about him which made you think that he was a foreigner. Instead of a respectable winter-coat he wore a shawl or plaid, and looked as if he had just ended a long journey. I thought I saw a customer, and gave him an address card, “Last and Co., Coffee-brokers, 37 Laurier Canal.” He took it, and holding it near the gaslight looked at it, and said, [[14]]“I thank you, but I was mistaken; I thought I had the pleasure of seeing an old school-fellow, but … Last … that is not the right name.”
“Excuse me,” I said, for I am always polite, “I am Mr. Drystubble—Batavus Drystubble; Last and Co. is the firm, coffee-brokers, at No. 37 Laurier Canal.”
“Well, Drystubble, don’t you know me? Look me straight in the face.”
The more I looked him in the face, the more I remembered having seen him before; but, strange to say, his face made an impression on me as if I smelt foreign perfumes. Do not laugh at that, reader; by and by you will see how that was. I feel quite assured that he had not a drop of perfumery about him, and yet I smelt something very strong, something which reminded me of——then I knew him!
“Was it you,” I said, “who rescued me from the Greek?”
“To be sure,” said he, “and how are you?”
I told him that we were thirteen of us in our office, and that we had plenty to do, and then I asked him how he had got on, which I felt quite sorry for afterwards, for it appeared that his pecuniary circumstances were not prosperous, and I dislike poor people, because it is for the most part their own fault, as the Lord would not forsake a person who had served Him faithfully. If I had only said, “We are thirteen of us,” and “I wish you good-night,” then I should have got rid of him; but these [[15]]questions and replies made it every minute more difficult to shake him off. However, I must confess, that if I had shaken him off you would not have had this book to read, for it owes its existence to that meeting! I like to look at the bright side of everything, and those who do not are discontented creatures: I can’t bear them. Yes, yes, it was the same person who had rescued me out of the clutches of the Greek! Don’t think, however, that I had been taken prisoner by pirates, or that I had had a brawl in the Levant. I have told you already that I went, after my marriage, with my wife to the Hague, where we saw the Museum, and bought flannel in Veene Street,—the only excursion that my extensive business at Amsterdam ever allowed me. No; it was on my account that he gave a Greek a bloody nose, for always interfering with other people’s business. It was in the year 1834 I think, and in September, the annual fair-time at Amsterdam. As my parents intended to make a clergyman of me, I learned Latin. Afterwards, I often wondered why you must understand Latin to say in Dutch, “God is good.” Enough, I went to the Latin school, now called the Gymnasium, and there was the fair,—in Amsterdam, I mean. On the Wester Market were booths; and if you, reader, are an Amsterdammer, and about my age, you will remember that in one of them was a most beautiful girl with black eyes, dressed as a Greek; her father too was a Greek, or at least he had the appearance [[16]]of a Greek. They sold all sorts of perfumes. I was just old enough to think the girl very beautiful, without having the courage to speak to her. Such an attempt would have been fruitless; for a girl of eighteen thinks a boy of sixteen a child, and there she is quite right. Yet we schoolboys always went to the Wester Market to see that girl.
Now, he who stood before me with the plaid was once with us, though some years younger than the rest, and therefore too childish to look at the Grecian girl; but he was dux of our class,—for he was very clever, that I must confess,—and he was very fond of playing, romping, and fighting; therefore he was with us. While we looked from a distance at the Grecian girl (I think we were ten of us), and deliberated how we should set about making acquaintance with her, we made up our minds to put our money together to buy something. But then it was very difficult to know who should be so bold as to speak to the girl. Every one liked it, but nobody dared attempt it. We cast lots, and I was chosen. Now, I confess that I do not like to brave dangers; I am a husband and a father, and think every one who braves danger to be a fool: this you may read in the Bible. It is a great satisfaction for me to find that I think about danger and suchlike things exactly as I did many years ago. I have still the same opinion as I had on that very evening when I stood close to the Greek’s booth, with the twelve pence we had put together in my hand. But because of false shame, I dared [[17]]not say that I had not the courage to do it; besides, I had to advance against my will, for my companions pushed me, and soon I was standing before the booth.
I did not see the girl; I saw nothing. All became green and yellow before my eyes … I stammered out the First Aorist of I do not know which verb.…