It seems as though Fancy were afraid to promise what might be out of her power, and, at the same time, that it pained her not to be able to give the promise.
“I will ask,” she whispered; “and now....”
Wouter rubbed his eyes ... he was standing on the little bridge over the canal.
Multatuli.
(Ideen.)
HALF-AN-HOUR AT THE HAIR-DRESSER’S.
Farce.
I.
Fournichon, the hair-dresser, discovered in his shop, busy finishing a lady’s chignon.
Fournichon. There ought to be a machine invented to make our work easier, ... say, some simple arrangement in which you throw in a handful of hair on one side and take out a perruque perfectionnée on the other. I shall certainly bring up my son as a mechanician, and entrust him with the invention of this indispensable machine. Let me see, whose turn is it now? Ah! Mevrouw Priddeau,—a chignon à la sauvage, of at least three kilos? ... Mille tonnerres! I am quite out of black hair! Hi! Pierre!