“Lodderyn![[14]] Trui! you see I——”
“We’ll hang all the men, and the women——”
“Lodderyn! lodderyn! lodderyn! Trui!”
“And the women shall mourn,
For our joy and delight!”
“Our joy and delight!” repeated Pennewip in a sepulchral voice,—“our joy and delight!... He ... does ... these ... things ... for ... his ... delight!”.
The whole company was near swooning. Stoffel’s pipe had gone out. But Wouter had a sort of passive strength in his nature; and when his mother had thrashed him enough to secure her own return to consciousness, he lay down, not altogether discontented, in his corner of the back room, and soon fell asleep, to dream of Fancy.
Multatuli.
(Ideen.)