“Oh yes, that is true,” said he; “but still you may like to read something from Liebig. Verbrugge, have you read much of Liebig?”
“Who was he?” asked Verbrugge.
“An author who wrote much on the preserving of gherkins; he also discovered how to change grass into wool.… You understand?”
“No,” said Verbrugge and Duclari together.
“Well, it had been known for a long time:—send a sheep into the field, and you will see. But it was Liebig who discovered the manner in which it happens. Others, however, say that he knows but little about it: they are now trying to discover the means of dispensing with the sheep altogether.… Oh, those scholars! Molière knew it very well.… I like Molière. If you like, we shall have reading every evening; Tine will also be of the party when Max is in bed.”
Duclari and Verbrugge liked this. Havelaar said that he had not many books, but amongst them he had Schiller, Goethe, Heine, Lamartine, Thiers, Say, Malthus, Scialoja, Smith, Shakespeare, Byron, Vondel.…
Verbrugge said that he was not acquainted with the English language.
“What the deuce! You are more than thirty years of [[179]]age: what have you been about all this time? But it must have been very disagreeable for you at Padang, where English is so much spoken. Did you know Miss Matta-api (Fire-eye)?”
“No, I do not know the name.”
“It was not her name; we gave her this nickname because her eyes were so brilliant. I think she must be married by this time; it was long ago. I never saw such eyes … except at Arles … you must go there. That is the prettiest place I ever visited in my travels. It seems to me that there is nothing that so well represents beauty in the abstract, as—a beautiful woman—a visible image of true immaterial purity——Believe me, go to Arles and Nîmes.…”