“Then I will lose no time in taking you to Meppel, or any other place we can most easily reach.” And bending his back to the oars, the one-eyed mariner pulled away.
“‘One good turn deserves another,’ as the old saying is,” observed Pieter, for he wanted to say something to keep up the Count’s spirits. “You saved my life and gave me this boat, and now I have the satisfaction of saving yours.”
“You are an honest fellow, Pieter, and as I prize honest men, of whom I have not discovered as many as I desire in the world, I should be glad if you and the small ship’s boy will accompany me, and I will endeavour to obtain some post which I consider suited to your merits.” Old Pieter gladly accepted the Count’s offer, and it did not make him pull the less vigorously. All night long they rowed on, till they arrived at a part of the country which the flood had not reached. Here Pieter took the Count to the house of a farmer to whom the honest boatman was well known, having been on various occasions employed by him. The good farmer treated the Count with the utmost hospitality and kindness. It was some days, however, before the Count had sufficiently recovered to be once more himself, and able to extend his walks beyond the precincts of the farm. He had gone one day to some distance, when he saw a large and picturesque house rising amid an extensive shrubbery; an open gate invited him to enter. As he walked along he caught the sound of voices, and presently found himself in the presence of a party of gentlemen, seated round a table with books and papers before them. Conspicuous on one side was a large easel supporting a handsome picture. “Ah! this is something out of the way,” thought the Count, and advancing he made a bow and introduced himself.
“You are welcome, noble Count, to our revels,” said one of the gentlemen, who appeared to be the president. “But ours is a feast of reason and the flow of soul, and we are met here to discuss works of art, to hear read the practical effusions of our members, and to enjoy the society of men of intellect and erudition.”
“A very praiseworthy and satisfactory mode of passing time, and I am fortunate in having fallen into such good company,” remarked the Count.
The various members of the society individually welcomed him. A poet had just read some verses he had composed, which were received with thundering applause, one of the excellent rules of the society being that every one was to praise the works of the rest. The artist now exhibited his paintings; when the others had admired them to their fill, the Count looked at them through his spectacles, and if he did make a mistake, and suppose that a horse was a cow, or a sheep a pig, he wisely kept his opinion to himself, merely exclaiming: “Beautiful! how true to nature. What exquisite colouring; what elegant outlines! yet all are equalled by the composition.” As no one asked him to point out the individual excellencies of which he spoke, he was looked upon as a first-rate judge of art.
“Now, gentlemen, as our friend Scrubzen has not been able to-day to complete his grand picture, I am deputed to invite you to inspect it to-morrow, when it will be in a more forward state. We shall, I hope, be favoured by your presence, Count Funnibos?”
“By all means,” answered the Count, who was highly pleased with the society into which he had fallen; and he parted from them to return to the house of his hospitable entertainer. The next morning he set out to repair to the house of which the president had given him the address.
“Several of Scrubzen’s admirers have already arrived,” said the president, whom he met at the door; “and with them a distinguished foreigner.”
As the Count and the president entered, they saw at the further end of the room a large picture on an easel representing a coast scene. On one side stood the artist explaining the details of his painting; a number of ladies and gentlemen were gazing at it with admiring glances; but one figure especially attracted the attention of the Count. It