He did not know that such perfection was humbug. He was satisfied when the characters in such novels did what was required of them by the author. The villains were always betraying somebody; the heroes killed everything that got in their way; and the beautiful virgins charmed everybody. Even God, the God of romance, did his duty much better than—but that’s another detail.
Yesterday on the Zeedyk a big boy had beaten a little fellow. That ought to happen in a book. How all the knights would have come running! Walter, too, was going to—but how could he help it if his employer called him back? “What in the devil have you got to do with that? Your work is here in the store. You attend to your own business now, and don’t mix yourself in other people’s brawls. That’s the main thing!”
As a rule of conduct, this was not just what Walter was used to in his novels.
Despite such interruptions he continued his reading. He was almost ready to begin on the last section of books, when he came to the store one morning and found everything locked up and under seal.
The worthy Mr. Motto, it seems, had gone to America, as a sailor; and doubtless that was the “main thing.” The unfortunate owner of the two snuff-vases had a big law suit over them. The point was whether they were a part of the assets, or not.
On the Zeedyk at Amsterdam such processes must be tried according to Roman law; but as the Romans did not use snuff there is nothing said about “Rappee” in the Roman laws. The writer doesn’t know how the matter finally turned out. It is to be hoped that everybody got what was coming to him.
Juffrouw Pieterse, however, did not recover her hundred florins; and, as usual, she groaned: “There’s always trouble with this boy.”
Walter couldn’t help her. He had his own troubles: he had been cruelly interrupted in his reading. Of course the mysterious parentage of the young robber was perfectly clear to him; but still one likes to see whether one has guessed correctly, or not.