She was greeting someone with that famous fan. Whom? The rebellious confectioner? With arms extended she was testifying that there was something extraordinary up there among that rabble.
“Princess, thy reasons spare: to me they’re odious!”
The countess-palatine threw off all restraint, and laughed and laughed. After the emperor had laughed hilarity was permissible. Her pleasure was beyond her control.
I should have to have a double pen to report what Uncle Sybrand said on his return, and, at the same time, reproduce the exclamation that escaped Walter, who was looking towards the gallery with eyes and mouth wide open.
“Where is Femke?” asked Holsma.
“She didn’t want to come,” replied Uncle Sybrand. “Just as I said.”
“There she is!” cried Walter.
“Who?”
“Femke, M’neer, Femke, Femke—that is Femke! And she——”
The girl above had taken hold of the policeman by the collar and, pushing him to one side, had pressed forward to the front row. There she had seated herself on the laps of the fellows the policeman had been negotiating with in vain.