The crowd was now in the street where Juffrouw Laps resided. The reader will recall that Walter was spending the night with her.

Boom! went a gun, or a cannon-cracker; and Walter awoke just as his affectionate hostess and religious adviser was going to give him a kiss.

Juffrouw Laps had burned her sinful lips. "Lord have mercy on us, what is that!" she cried.

Both ran to the open window. Ordinarily a respectable Hollandish girl never leaves her window open at night; but the extreme heat of the evening must be urged in Juffrouw Laps's favor.

It was clear to them at once that they had not been fired upon by those "murderers," for n.o.body paid any attention to them or showed any interest in them. Other windows were open, as well; and on all sides people were looking out. Right and left a cannonade of firecrackers was going on.

In the interest of privacy Juffrouw Laps took the precaution to blow out the light as quickly as possible. Another might have neglected this.

Walter looked down on it all with the delight of a child. He forgot the insistent kindness of his hostess; he thought of nothing but the crowd below and their antics. The noise and tumult sobered him; and it even had a quieting effect on Juffrouw Laps.

"How foolish the people are. They push one another hither and thither and don't know themselves why they do it."

"Click, click!" answered an enthusiast with a gun. He was in the midst of a bevy of girls, who scattered in an uproar.

"They're all drunk," said Juffrouw Laps. "I wish they would go home. I'm tired--and it's two o'clock."

"Just a little more!" begged Walter. "I'm not tired--not a bit!"

"I'm afraid you're catching cold. For you know, the night air after a hot day--well, put on your cap, dearest. I wouldn't have this night air to give you a cold for everything in the world. Look, there goes another one." It was a Roman candle.

"Amour a la plus belle.

Honneur au plus vaillant----"

"Why don't they sing Dutch? Do you understand any of it?"

Walter knew something of the handsome Dunois, who slew so many Turks and received as his reward the daughter of the duke, his master. How would a knight be rewarded after he had already received one reward? Or how would it have been if the master had had no daughter?

While Walter was asking his lady friend such difficult questions as these, they heard an outburst of cries and abuse and oaths below. A reaction had set in. It was a perfect riot. The crowd swayed first one way then the other, according as one party or the other was in the ascendency.

Non-combatants were pushing their way out; combatants, themselves crowded, were crowding others. Cries of "help" were heard. Mothers, with babies in their arms, attested their fear; women in delicate health made their condition known.

The press was worst on the corner, whither the revelers were streaming from three directions. Here was located a popular restaurant and drinking-place, which was probably the destination of the stream coming from Amstel Street. The second stream, coming from Utrecht Street, evidently had the same objective in view. The strongest current was flowing from the belligerent group, which was now squeezed into close quarters.

From his recent experience Walter knew what it meant to be in such a mob. Whoever fell was walked over. But it really wasn't so bad as that: to fall was impossible. The danger was in being crowded off the street into bas.e.m.e.nts, where limbs and necks might be easily broken. In this respect there was more danger than there had been the evening before in Kalver Street.

"Christian souls!" cried Juffrouw Laps. "I'm getting right sick at the stomach."

Walter's condition was about the same. All at once he seized her arm. He thought that he saw somebody--somebody who looked like----

"That's right, dear. Hold fast to me. It's simply death and murder!"

Walter did not say anything.

"Isn't it enough to run anybody crazy?" continued the dear Juffrouw. "Hold fast to me, and remember that I am your Christine."

He was remembering something else.

"Don't be afraid--Lord, that child's beside himself--n.o.body shall hurt you. I will take care of you."

He held on to her arm all the tighter; otherwise he was as if turned to stone.

"I wouldn't pay any attention to it, sweetheart. But--it is bad enough. Do you see that girl there with the North Holland cap on? I wouldn't like to be in her place."

"It is--Femke! O G.o.d, it is Femke!"

Shaking off Juffrouw Laps, who attempted to hold him back, he rushed down the steps and in a few minutes was in the thickest of the fray.

He fought his way through the crowd like a mad-man, soon reaching the point where he had seen Femke. She, however, had disappeared. A man with flashy cap and sailor's jacket, who from above had looked like her escort, was still contending with the crowd. It seemed as if the two had come arm in arm through Amstel Street.

"Is there a girl here with a North Holland cap on?"

The man was too busy fighting and wrestling for standing-room to make answer. Meanwhile, Walter noticed that the fellow was struggling toward the "Herberge," and concluded that his lady must have taken refuge there.

Walter paid no more attention to the punches and blows he received. He was only concerned to give as many blows as were necessary to hasten his arrival at the restaurant. The place was about as badly crowded as the street, but there was no fighting going on.

Yes, Walter had made a good beginning: yesterday in the "Polish Coffeehouse," to-day in the "Juniper Berry"--thrown in there, fighting his way in here.

He was in the restaurant at last, looking for Femke. Now he thought that he had discovered her, standing on a step, or something of the kind. With lips tightly closed, her arms crossed, the girl was looking quietly down on the mult.i.tude as if in silent contempt. The rim was torn from her cap and was hanging down. Walter thought that he even saw blood on her face--Femke's dear face!

He was exhausted and could not reach her. He looked at her. She did not see him.

She stood there proud and haughty. He called to her. She did not hear.

"O G.o.d! she despises me. I deserve it for my cowardice at Holsma's."

"Boy," said the woman behind the bar, "we don't have any bellowing here. If you want to bellow go to your mother."

Easier said than done. He couldn't move a peg, such was the press. He was shoved against the counter; and it was impossible for him to keep sight of Femke. The tears began to roll down his cheeks.

"What are you doing in such a crowd anyway?" continued the woman, "when you're so weak. You look as flimsy as a dish-rag. What have you been doing? Let me give you a gla.s.s of cognac."

He would have been only too glad to pay for his place; but, as he "received at home everything that he needed," he did not have the wherewithal. Still, there was no danger of his being thrown out. The crowd, which was threatening to expend its remaining energy in destroying the liquids of the place, was now occupying the barmaid's attention. I should say Mrs. Goremest's attention. She was the proprietress.

The girl continued to hold her position of advantage. There was something scornful in her features. "Who dares!" she seemed to say.

Walter was feeling bad. She looked over in his direction, but without seeing him. He called; but she did not hear.

Then the fellow with the flashy cap and sailor jacket appeared in the door. He had not been one of the belligerents; but he had suffered the fate of neutral powers. As his clothing testified, both parties had been his enemies.

So intent was the fellow on getting in that he did not even take time to return the shoves and cuffs that he received. Twice, three times he was crowded back; for where so many want the same thing, it isn't easy to obtain. Nevertheless, he had one advantage over the others, who sought only a resting-place and a gla.s.s of liquor. He was incited by something else.

Walter hoped with all his heart that the fellow would succeed in reaching Femke. She looked so lonely in the midst of that wild mob. If he had been stronger, he would have--but she wouldn't have anything to do with him. Wouldn't she push him off, just as she did the insolent fellow who first caught hold of her ap.r.o.n?

The girl seemed now to spy the sailor. She nodded to him and smiled, as if to encourage him. Or was she thanking him for his fidelity? Her smile bore the message that she was uninjured, and fearless. Yes, she stood there a statute of repose.