But to-morrow! To-morrow he would bring that picture with him! And then he wouldn’t stand at the fence like a baby.
He felt ashamed when he thought of his friends in their gay colors, or in armor, with plumes and swords. Those kings and knights and pages—they had been courageous, otherwise they never would have received such high orders and distinctions. Unless there were some change, he felt that he would never be pictured like that.
However, he expected that such a change would come—without doubt, surely, certainly, truly! The further he went, the more determined he became to go in the next day and put on a bold front and say: “Good-day, Juffrouw, how do you do?”
It was more difficult for him to decide what he would say to Femke.
He made up various little speeches in the manner of Floris the Fifth. In case Femke shouldn’t like them he was going to say, “Why, that is from our greatest poet.”
And then he would ask her to explain a lot of mysterious words in Floris that he hadn’t understood—for instance, “fast fellow,” “coverture,” “chastity,” and others.
Walter’s development was determined by his desire to know things. His feeling for Femke, which was hardly real love, was subordinated to his thirst for knowledge. He knew that he couldn’t get much from her, especially book-learning; but it was a pleasure merely to discuss things with her, even if she knew nothing about them.
He was curious to know all that she might have to tell him, or to ask him; for no doubt she too had been saving up her impressions for her first friend. But, alas! he was not so certain of her friendship! True, when he was sick she had asked about him; but perhaps she was just passing by, and thought how easy it would be to ring the bell and ask, “How is Walter?”
Still it had taken courage to do it. What would Mungo Park have said if he had seen him hesitating before the gate! Walter knew that wasn’t the way to conquer the world.
And if anybody had asked Mungo Park: “What do you want in Africa?”