Leentje began to cry and was going to promise never to do so again, when, to her amazement, she was told that there was nothing wrong in it, and that even the greatest professors went to see comedies.
And now she must tell them about it.
It was “The Child of Love,” by Kotzebue, that had greeted her astonished eyes.
“There was music, Juffrouw, and they played beautifully; and then the curtain went up, and there was a great forest, and a woman wept under a tree. There was a Baron who made her son a prisoner, because he was a hunter—but he spoke so nice, and his mother, too. The Baron said he was master on his place, and that he would punish such thieves. He was in a great rage. And then the mother said—no, somebody else came and said—but then the curtain went down. The dressmaker bought waffles that were being passed around, and we drank chocolate. The dressmaker said that every day wasn’t a feast day. A man sat behind us and explained everything and took our cups when they were empty. Then the band played, ‘Pretty girls and pretty flowers.’”
“Shame!” cried the three young ladies. For it was a common street song.
“And then the curtain went up again of its own accord; but the gentleman behind us said somebody raised it—perhaps the ‘Child of Love’ himself, for he was not in prison when the curtain was down. The dressmaker gave him a peppermint-drop, and he said: ‘Watch the stage, Juffrouw, for you have paid to see it.’ It cost twelve stivers, without the waffles and chocolate. Then the Baron said—but I can’t tell it all exactly as it was. I will only say that the old woman wept all the time, and she could not be reconciled, because she was so unhappy. You see, Juffrouw, the child of love was her own child; and it was also the Baron’s child of love. That was bad—because it was just a child of love, you see; and that is always bad. He had no papers, no credentials; nor the mother, either. And he was to die because he had hunted. Oh, it was beautiful, Juffrouw! And then the curtain went down again and we ate another waffle. The gentleman behind us said it was well that they gave plays with prison scenes in them. There were so many bad people in the hall, such as pickpockets and the like, and this would be a warning for them. The dressmaker was going to offer him another mint-drop, when she saw that her box was gone. It was silver. The gentleman said of course some pickpocket had taken it.”
“He was the pickpocket!” exclaimed several.
Leentje was indignant at the idea.
“No, no! Don’t say that; it’s a sin. He was a very respectable gentleman, and addressed me as Juffrouw, just as he did the dressmaker. He tried to find the thief. He asked where the Juffrouw lived, and said that if he found the box he would bring it to her. He wore a fancy vest—no, no, no. Don’t say that of him!”
“Well, tell some more about the child of love.” All were interested.