There were still other good things in Holland, as their highnesses testified with patronizing kindness.
“Il parait qu’un certain Wondèle a écrit des choses, des choses—mais des choses—passablement bien!”
And the dikes! And the Katwyk sluice—gigantesque!
Whatever spare time they might have after making cheese and cooking herrings, the Holland people liked to devote to fighting the elements. After skating and racing this was the favorite recreation of the nation.
I can assure the reader that the aristocratic party took their departure thoroughly satisfied with our country. The only person who received quite a different impression—but I will not anticipate the feelings of our hero. Even a writer has his duties.
The first evening everything was to be illuminated. Two hundred and fifty thousand candles were to proclaim the enthusiasm of the people. Two hundred and fifty thousand fiery tongues were to cry: “Hosanna! Blessed be he who comes in the name of——” In whose name? Hosanna for whom? For what?
Well, that was a matter of indifference to the people. They knew that there was something doing, that there was a crowd, and that was enough. People are somewhat like children, who amuse themselves immensely in the confusion of a “moving,” of a death, or of anything that causes commotion and excitement.
Walter had got permission to see the illumination. Unconsciously he assumed that stupid expression which is obligatory on such occasions. He listened to the conversation of those about him.
“That’s what I call illuminating! Nine candles for such a big house!”
“Twelve!” cried another.