CHAPTER XXVI

The events of an eventful Friday were at an end, as it seemed; and Walter prepared to climb into the narrow bedstead, which he shared with his brother Laurens. He was now in a tranquil frame of mind. He didn't even have any desire to romp with Laurens, who, without laying claim to geometrical knowledge, usually managed to find the diagonal of the bed.

It was Walter's intention to think over recent events again. He wished to busy himself with others; he was tired of himself--at least he thought so for a moment.

There was a prince, who distributed money among the people. Oh, if I were only a prince!

That wasn't a bad thought. Under the same circ.u.mstances, most people would have thought: Oh, if I could only have got some of the money!

The countess-palatine from--where from? Well it makes no difference. She was in the museum and the papers said she was gracious, very gracious.

I would do it too, thought Walter, if I were a countess-palatine. What sort of a profession is that?

The king had given audiences--and a dinner--and had said--well, the usual things. But for Walter it was new and interesting. The welfare of the city seemed to lie heavily on his majesty's heart. It lay heavily on Walter's heart, too; but that did not prevent Walter from admiring this peculiarity of the king. In Africa he would do the same thing.

No, away with Africa!

He threw off his left stocking so violently that it curled around the leg of the chair like a dying earthworm.

What strange things he had heard of Princess Erika! It was said that she was to have married a grand-duke, but rejected him.

The middle cla.s.ses were delighted with this news; though not knowing but that it might merely have been stubbornness on the part of the princess.

She was of such a strange nature that she did not know how to behave herself in her high position.

Walter slipped off his other stocking, finding fault with the princess for disregarding the usual customs and conventions. Hm! He wondered if she would like to change places with him, and let him be Prince Erich--and she----

He wondered if she too wore an ugly nightcap. But--no! Princesses would wear caps of diamonds.

Princess Erika!

Walter blew out the light--no, he was on the point of blowing it out. He had selected one of the triangles that Laurens had described in the bed, when suddenly he became aware of a great tumult in the Pieterse home.

Yes, somebody had rung violently three or four times and was still banging at the door. Fire?

Hm! Could it be Princess Erika, he thought, who was coming to change places with him?

Alas, it was only Juffrouw Laps; and she did not come to exchange.

Well, what did she want then, so late in the evening?

Walter pulled himself together and listened.

The compartment where Walter and Laurens slept was a boxed-up arrangement over the sitting-room. Two of their sisters shared the s.p.a.ce with them. From considerations of modesty, therefore, the boys always had to get sleepy a quarter of an hour before the young ladies.

The writer is unable to say how much oxygen four young people need during eight hours without suffocating; but anyway there wasn't much room in this little nook.

In another closet-affair there was a similar division, and here, too, the hour for retiring was determined by similar laws of modesty.

The reader will now understand why a part of the family, the female part of course, was still in the sitting-room when Walter imagined that Princess Erika had come to exchange places with him.

Juffrouw Laps, who had rushed up the steps like a crazy woman, burst into the room weeping and moaning and sobbing.

The usual cries of, "What on earth is the matter?" "Lord 'a'

mercy--what has happened?" were forthcoming. Walter noticed, too, that the customary gla.s.s of water was offered and drunk, and that proper efforts were being made to get the unhappy one to "calm herself."

Juffrouw Laps began her story with the positive a.s.surance that it was impossible for her to utter a word.

It seemed, therefore, that the affair was something important. Walter pulled on one of his stockings and prepared to listen.

"I swear, Juffrouw Pieterse, by the omnipotent G.o.d, that I'm so frightened and excited that I can't talk."

"Goodness!"

"Where are your children? In bed? Not all of them, I hope. Really, I can't speak. Give me another gla.s.s of water, Trudie. Listen, how my teeth are chattering. That comes from fright, doesn't it? I'm in a tremble all over. Thank you, Trudie. Where's--Stoffel?"

"He's undressing," said Juffrouw Pieterse. "He goes to bed before me and Pietro. Mina makes so much noise, you know; and Trudie must stay with the boys to keep them from fighting. That's why I sleep with Pietro, you see. Stoffel undresses himself, and then he draws the curtain when he hears us on the steps. But why----"

"How that concerns me, you mean? To be sure. I'm just beside myself from fright! And is--Laurens in bed too?"

"Of course! A long time already. He has to go to the printing-house early."

"All in bed! And I--I run through the streets, wretched, crazy, and don't know what to do. Is everybody in bed?--everybody?"

"But what has happened?"

"I'm going to tell you, Juffrouw Pieterse. Oh, if you only knew how frightened I am!"

Consideration of acoustics now led Walter to put on his other stocking.

"You know, Juffrouw Pieterse, that of late so much stealing has been going on."

"Yes, but----"

"And burglary and murder! And the police can't catch anybody. You know the old woman and the servant-girl who were murdered in Lommer Street."

"But three are already behind the bars for it. What more do you want?"

"That's all right; the murderers are running around scot-free. They've locked up three fellows just to keep the people from thinking too much. They don't want anybody to ask, 'What are the police for?' You see what I mean? I tell you that such a low-down rascal, who commits a murder and steals lots of money, cannot hide his b.l.o.o.d.y clothes; nor the money, either. He's not used to having so much money. All the neighbors know his coat and breeches; and such a man hasn't any trunk where he can hide his things. He doesn't know how to manage with drafts and notes; and he don't know enough to get away to a foreign country. As for friends to help him get rid of the stolen things, he hasn't any. I tell you, Juffrouw Pieterse, a murder or a robbery, when they don't catch the murderer right away--then some respectable person has done it, who has more clothes and boxes and presses and linen--and he has friends among bankers. A common fellow would stick a hundred thousand florins in the bread-box, and the children would find it when they went to slip a slice of bread and b.u.t.ter. What do you say, Trudie?"

Trudie was not versed in criminal statistics and had never reflected on the matter. At least Walter heard no answer. Curiosity compelled him to draw on his trousers.

"But," he heard his mother saying again, "what has happened to you?"

"What has happened? I am beside myself. Don't you see how I'm trembling? The city is full of murderers!"

"My goodness! How can I help it?"