“But, Mr. Havelaar,” asked Verbrugge, “suppose she had a bad cold?”
“Well, she ought not to have a bad cold with such a nose.…”
As if an evil spirit spoke, Tine suddenly sneezed … and before she thought of it, she had blown her nose!
“Dear Max! don’t be angry!” said she, with a suppressed laugh.
He did not reply; and however foolish it seems, or is,—yes, he was angry. And what sounds strange too, Tine was glad that he was angry, and that he required her to [[189]]be more than the women of Arles, even though she had no reason to be proud of her nose.
If Duclari still thought Havelaar a fool, one could not be surprised if he felt himself strengthened in this opinion, on perceiving the short anger that could be read in Havelaar’s face, after that nose-blowing. But he had returned from Carthage, and he read on the faces of his guests, with the rapidity with which he could read, when his mind was not too far away from home, that they had made the two following theorems:—
“1. Whoever will not let his wife blow her nose is a fool.
“2. Whoever thinks that a beautiful nose may not be blown, is wrong to apply that idea to Madam Havelaar, whose nose is a little en pomme de terre.”
Havelaar would not speak of the first theorem, but the second one.…—“Oh,” he said, as if he had to reply, though his guests had been too polite to speak their thoughts, “I will explain that to you, Tine.…”
“Dear Max!” she said entreatingly; and she meant by these words to say, “Do not tell these gentlemen why I should be in your estimation elevated above a bad cold.…”