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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/8437-0.txt b/8437-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d131ca --- /dev/null +++ b/8437-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5163 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Path of Life, by Stijn Streuvels + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Path of Life + +Author: Stijn Streuvels + +Translator: Alexander Teixeira De Mattos + + +Release Date: July, 2005 [EBook #8437] +This file was first posted on July 10, 2003 +Last Updated: November 19, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PATH OF LIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Thomas Berger, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + +THE PATH OF LIFE + +By Stijn Streuvels + + +Translated from the West-Flemish by + +Alexander Teixeira De Mattos + + + + +TRANSLATOR’s NOTE + +In introducing this new writer to the English-speaking public, I may be +permitted to give a few particulars of himself and his life. Stijn +Streuvels is accepted not only in Belgium, but also in Holland as the +most distinguished Low-Dutch author of our time: his vogue, in fact, is +even greater in the North Netherlands than in the southern kingdom. And I +will go further and say that I know no greater living writer of +imaginative prose in any land or any language. His medium is the +West-Flemish dialect, which is spoken by perhaps a million people +inhabiting the stretch of country that forms the province of West +Flanders and is comprised within the irregular triangle outlined by the +North Sea on the west, the French frontier of Flanders on the south and a +line drawn at one-third of the distance between Bruges and Ghent on the +east. In addition to Bruges and Ostend, this province of West Flanders +includes such towns as Poperinghe, Ypres and Courtrai; and so subtly +subdivided is the West-Flemish dialect that there are words which a man +of Bruges will use to a man of Poperinghe and not be understood. + +It is one of the most interesting dialects known to me, containing +numbers of mighty mediaeval words which survive in daily use; and it is +one of the richest: rich especially--and this is not usual in +dialects--in words expressive of human characteristics and of physical +sensations. + +Thus there is a word to describe a man who is not so much a poor wretch, +_un misérable_, as what Tom Hood loved to call “a hapless wight:” one who +is poor and wretched and outcast and out of work, not through any fault +of his own, through idleness or fecklessness, but through sheer ill-luck. +There is a word to describe what we feel when we hear the tearing of silk +or the ripping of calico, a word expressing that sense of angry +irritation which gives a man a gnawing in the muscles of the arms, a word +that tells what we really feel in our hair when we pretend that it +“stands on end.” It is a sturdy, manly dialect, moreover, spoken by a +fine, upstanding race of “chaps,” “fellows,” “mates,” “wives,” and +“women-persons,” for your Fleming rarely talks of “men” or “women.” It is +also a very beautiful dialect, having many words that possess a charm all +their own. Thus _monkelen_, the West-Flemish for the verb “to smile,” is +prettier and has an archer sound than its Dutch equivalent, _glimlachen_. +And it is a dialect of sufficient importance to boast a special +dictionary (_Westvlaamsch Idiotikon_, by the Rev. L. L. De Bo: Bruges, +1873) of 1,488 small-quarto pages, set in double column. + +In translating Streuvels’ sketches, I have given a close rendering: to +use a homely phrase, their flavour is very near the knuckle; and I have +been anxious to lose no more of it than must inevitably be lost through +the mere act of translation. I hope that I may be forgiven for one or two +phrases, which, though not existing, so far as I am aware, in any country +or district where the English tongue is spoken, are not entirely foreign +to the genius of that tongue. Here and there, but only where necessary, I +have added an explanatory foot-note. + +For those interested in such matters, I may say that Stijn Streuvels’ +real name is Frank Lateur. He is a nephew of Guido Gezelle, the +poet-priest, whose statue graces the public square at Courtrai, unless +indeed by this time those shining apostles of civilization, the Germans, +have destroyed it. Until ten years ago, when he began to come into his +own, he lived at Avelghem, in the south-east corner of West Flanders, +hard by Courtrai and the River Lys, and there baked bread for the +peasant-fellows and peasant-wives. For you must know that this foremost +writer of the Netherlands was once a baker and stood daily at sunrise, +bare-chested, before his glowing oven, drawing bread for the folk of his +village. The stories and sketches in the present volume all belong to +that period. + +Of their number, _Christmas Night_, _A Pipe or no Pipe_, _On Sundays_ and +_The End_ have appeared in the _Fortnightly Review_, which was the first +to give Stijn Streuvels the hospitality of its pages; _In Early Winter_ +and _White Life_ in the _English Review_; _The White Sand-path_ in the +_Illustrated London News_; _An Accident in Everyman_; and _Loafing_ in +the _Lady’s Realm_. The remainder are now printed in English for the +first time. + +ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS. + +Chelsea, _April_, 1915. + + + +CONTENTS + + +TRANSLATOR’S NOTE + + I. THE WHITE SAND-PATH + + II. IN EARLY WINTER. + + III. CHRISTMAS NIGHT. + + IV. LOAFING + + V. SPRING + + VI. IN THE SQUALL + + VII. A PIPE OR NO PIPE + +VIII. ON SUNDAYS + + IX. AN ACCIDENT + + X. WHITE LIFE + + XI. THE END. + + + +THE WHITE SAND-PATH + + + + +I. THE WHITE SAND-PATH + +I was a devil of a scapegrace in my time. No tree was too high for me, no +water too deep; and, when there was mischief going, I was the ring-leader +of the band. Father racked his head for days together to find a +punishment that I should remember; but it was all no good: he wore out +three or four birch-rods on my back; his hands pained him merely from +hitting my hard head; and bread and water was a welcome change to me from +the everyday monotony of potatoes and bread-and-butter. After a sound +drubbing followed by half a day’s fasting, I felt more like laughing than +like crying; and, in half a while, all was forgotten and my wickedness +began afresh and worse than ever. + +One summer’s evening, I came home in fine fettle. I and ten of my +school-fellows had played truant: we had gone to pick apples in the +priest’s orchard; and we had pulled the burgomaster’s calf into the brook +to teach it to swim, but the banks were too high and the beast was +drowned. Father, who had heard of these happenings, laid hold of me in a +rage and gave me a furious trouncing with a poker, after which, instead +of turning me into the road, as his custom was, he caught me up fair and +square, carried me to the loft, flung me down on the floor and bolted the +trap-door behind him. + +In the loft! Heavenly goodness, in the loft! + +Of an evening I never dared think of the place; and in bright sunshine I +went there but seldom and then always in fear. + +I lay as dead, pinched my eyes to and pondered on my wretched plight. +‘Twas silent all around; I heard nothing, nothing. That lasted pretty +long, till I began to feel that the boards were so hard and that my body, +which had been thrashed black and blue, was hurting me. My back was stiff +and my arms and legs grew cold. And yet I nor wished nor meant to stir: +that was settled in my head. In the end, it became unbearable: I drew in +my right leg, shifted my arm and carefully opened my eyes. ‘Twas so +ghastly, oh, so frightfully dark and warm: I could see the warm darkness; +so funny, that steep, slanting tiled roof, crossed by black rafters, +beams and laths, and all that space beyond, which disappeared in the dark +ridgework: ‘twas like a deserted, haunted booth at a fair, during the +night. Over my head, like threatening blunderbusses, old trousers and +jackets hung swinging, with empty arms and legs: they looked just like +fellows that had been hanged! And it grew darker, steadily darker. + +My eyes stood fixed and I heard my breath come and go. I pondered how +‘twould end here. That lasting silence affrighted me; the anxious waiting +for that coming night: to have to spend a long, long night here alone! My +hair itched and pricked on my head. And the rats! I gave a great loud +scream. It rang in anguish through the sloping vault of the loft. I +listened as it died away ... and nothing followed. I screamed again and +again and went on, till my throat was torn. + +The gruesome thought of those rats and of that long night drove me mad +with fear. I rolled about on the floor, I struck out with my arms and +legs, like one possessed, in violent, childish fury. Then, worn out, I +let my arms and legs rest; at last, tired, swallowed up in my +helplessness, left without will or feeling, I waited for what was to +come. I had terribly wicked thoughts: of escaping from the house, of +setting fire to the house, of _murder_! I was an outcast, I was being +tortured. I should have liked to show them what I could do, who I was; to +see them hunting for me and crying; and then to run away, always farther +away, and never come back again. + +Downstairs, the plates and forks were clattering for supper. I was not +hungry; I did not wish nor mean to eat. I heard soft, quiet voices +talking: that made me desperate; they were not speaking of me! They had +no thought nor care for the miscreant; they would liefst have him dead, +out of the way. And I was in the loft! + +Later, very much later, I heard my little brother’s voice saying evening +prayers--I would not pray--and then I heard nothing more, nothing; and I +lay there, upstairs, lonely and forlorn.... + +I walked all alone in the forest, through the brushwood. ‘Twas half-dark +below; but, above the bushes, the sun was playing as through a green +curtain. I went on and on. The bushes here grew thick now and the tiny +path was lost. After long creeping and stumbling, I leapt across a ditch +and entered the wide drove. It did not seem strange to me that ‘twas even +darker here and that the light, instead of from above, came streaming low +down from between the trunks of the trees. The vault was closed +leaf-tight and the trunks hung down from out of it like pillars. ‘Twas +silent all around. I went, as I thought that I must see the sun, round +behind the trunks, half anxious at last to get out of that magic forest; +but new trees kept coming up, as though out of the ground, and hid the +sun. I would have liked to run, but felt I know not what in my legs that +made me drag myself on. + +Far beyond, on the road-side grass, sat two boys. It was ... but no, they +were sitting there too glumly! I went up to them and, after all, knew +them for Sarelke and Lowietje, the village-constable’s children. They sat +with their legs in the ditch, their elbows on their knees, earnestly +chatting. I sat down beside them, but they did not even look up, did not +notice me. Those two boys, my schoolmates, the worst two scamps in the +village, sat there like two worn-out old fogies: they did not know me. +This ought to have surprised me, and yet I thought that it must be right +and that it had always been so. They chatted most calmly of the price of +marbles, of the way to tell the best hoops, of buying a new box of tin +soldiers; and they mumbled their words as slowly as the priest in his +pulpit. I became uncomfortable, felt ill at ease in that stifling air, +under that half-dusk of the twilight, where everything was happening so +earnestly, so very slowly and so heavily. I, who was all for sport and +child’s-play, now found my own chums so altered; and they no longer knew +me. I would have liked to shout, to grip them hard by the shoulder and +call out that it was I: I, I, I! But I durst not, or could not. + +“There--comes--the--keeper,” droned Sarelke. + +Lowietje looked down the drove with his great glassy eyes. The two boys +stood up and, without speaking, shuffled away. I saw them get smaller and +smaller, till they became two black, hovering little specks that vanished +round the bend. + +I was alone again! Alone, with all those trees, in that frightful silence +all around me. And the keeper, where was he? He would come, I knew it; +and I felt afraid of the awful fellow. I must get away from this, I must +hide myself. I lay down, very slowly, deep in the ditch. I now felt that +I had been long, long dead and that I was lying here alone, waiting for I +forget what. That keeper: was there such a person? He now seemed to me an +awesome clod of earth, which came rolling down, slowly but steadily, and +which would fall heavily upon me. Then he turned into a lovely white +ashplant, which stood there waving its boughs in a stately manner. I +would let him go past and then would go away. People were waiting for me, +I had to be somewhere: I tried mightily to remember where, but could not. + +The keeper did not come. + +The ditch was cold, the bottom was of smooth, worn stone and very hard. I +lay there with gleaming eyes: above my head stood the giant oaks, +silently, and their knotted branches ran up and were lost in the dark +sky. + +The keeper came, I heard his coming; and the wind blew fearfully through +the trees. I shivered.... + +I woke with fright and I was still lying in my loft. The hard bottom of +the ditch was the boarded floor and the tree-trunks were the legs of +father’s trousers and the branches ran up and were lost in the darksome +roofwork. Two sharp rays of light beamed through the shut dormer-window. +It must be day then! And this awful night was past! All my dismay was +gone and a bold feeling came over me, something like the feeling of +gladness that follows on a solved problem. I would make Lowietje and +Sarelke and all the boys at school hark to my tale, that I would! I had +slept a whole night alone in the loft! And the rats! And the ghosts! Ooh! +And not a whit afraid! + +I got up, but that was such a slow business. I still felt that dream and +that slackness in my limbs. I was so stiff; that heavy gloom, that slow +passing of time still lingered--just as in my dream--in my slow +breathing. I still saw that forest and, shut up as I was, with not a +single touchstone for my thoughts, I began to doubt if my dream was done +and I had to feel the trouser-legs to make sure that they were not really +trees. + +Time stood still and there was no getting out of my mind the strange +things seen in that dream-forest, with those earnest, sluggish, elderly +children and that queer keeper. ‘Twas as though some one were holding my +arms and legs tight to make them move heavily, deadly heavily; and I felt +myself, within my head, grown quite thirty years older, become suddenly +an old man. I walked about the loft; I wanted to make myself heard, but +my footsteps gave no sound. + +I grew awfully hungry. Near the ladder-door, I found my prison fare. I +nibbled greedily at my crust of bread and took a good drink of water. + +I now felt better, but this doing nothing wearied me; I became sad and +felt sorry to be sitting alone. If things had gone their usual gait, I +should now be with my mates at school or playing somewhere under the open +sky; and that open sky now first revealed all its delightfulness. The +usual gait, when all was said, was by far the best.... All alone like +this, up here.... Should I go down and beg father’s pardon? Then ‘twould +all be over and done with.... + +“No!” said something inside me, “I stay here!” + +And I stayed. + +I shoved a box under the dormer-window, I pushed open the wooden +shutter ... and there! Before me lay the wide stretch in the blazing +sunlight! My eyes were quite blind with it. + +‘Twas good up here and funny to see everything from so high up, so +endlessly far! And the people were no bigger than tiny tadpoles! + +Just under my dormer-window came a path, a white sand-path winding from +behind the house and then running forwards to the horizon in a line +straight as an arrow. It looked like a naked strip of ground, powdered +white and showing up sharply, like a flat snake, in the middle of the +green fields which, broken into their many-coloured squares, lay blinking +in the sun. + +This path was deserted, lonely, as though nor man nor beast had ever +trodden it. It lay very near the house and I did not know it from up +here; it looked now like a long strip of drab linen, which lay bleaching +in a boundless meadow. And that again suited my loneliness so well! At +last, I looked and saw nothing more. And that path!... + +Slowly, overcome by that silent, restful idleness, I fell a-dreaming; and +that path, that long, white path seemed to me to have become a part of my +own being, something like a life that began over there, far away yonder +in the clear blue, to end in the unknown, here, behind the gable-end, cut +off at that fatal bend. + +After long looking, I saw something, very far off; it came so slowly, so +softly, like a thing that grows, and those two little black patches grew +into two romping schoolboys, who, rolling and leaping along, came running +down the white sand-path and, at last, disappeared in the bend behind the +gable-end. + +Then, for another long while, nothing more, nothing but sand, green and +sunshine. + +Later, ‘twas three labourers, who came stepping up briskly, with their +gear over their shoulders. Half-way up the path, they jumped across the +ditch and went to work in the field. They toiled on, without looking up +or round, toiled on till I got tired of watching and tired of those three +stooping men and of seeing that gleaming steel flicker in the sun and go +in and out of the earth. + +When now ‘twas mid-day and fiercely hot in my loft, my three labourers +sat down behind a tree and ate their noonday meal. + +I went to the loft-door and devoured my second crust of bread and took a +fresh gulp of water. + +Very calmly, without thinking, lame with the heat and with that old-man’s +feeling still inside me, I went and sat at the window. + +The three men worked on, always, without stopping. + +And that went on, went on, until the evening! When ‘twas nearly dark, +they gathered up their tools, jumped over the ditch, walked down the path +the way they had come and disappeared behind the gable-end. + +Now it became deadly. + +In the distance appeared a great black patch, which came slowly nearer +and nearer. The patch turned into a lazy, slow-stepping ox, with a +jolting, creaking waggon, in which sat a little old man who gazed +stupidly in front of him into the dark distance. The cart dragged along +wearily, creeping through the sand, and first the ox, then the little +fellow, then the waggon disappeared behind the gable-end. + +Now I felt something like fear and I shivered: the evening was coming so +slowly, so sadly; and I dared not think of the night that was to follow. +‘Twas the first time in my life that I fell earnestly a-thinking. So that +path there became a life, a long-drawn-out, earnest life.... That was +quite plain in my head; and those boys had rolled and tumbled along that +path; next, those big men had burdensomely, most burdensomely turned over +their bit of earth; and the ox and the little old fellow had joggled +along it so piteously.... That life was so earnest and I had seen it all +from so far, from the outside of it: I did nothing, I took no part in it +and yet I lived ... and must also one day go along that path! + +And how? + +Getting up in the morning, eating, playing, going to school, misbehaving, +playing, eating, sleeping.... + +The mist rose out of the fields and I saw nothing more. + +I jumped off my box, begged father’s pardon and crept into bed. + +Never again was I shut up in the loft. + + + + +II. IN EARLY WINTER + +First the leaves had become pale, deathly pale; later they turned +yellow-brown; and then they went fluttering and flickering, so wearily, +so slackly, like the wings of dying birds; and, one after the other, they +began to fall, dancing gently downwards, in eddies. They whirled in the +air, were carried on by the wind and at last fell dead and settled +somewhere in the mud. + +Not a living thing was to be seen and the cottages that sat huddled close +to the ground remained fast shut; the smoke from the chimneys alone still +gave a sign of life. + +The green drove now stood bare and bleak: two rows of straight trunks +which grew less and faded away in the blue mist. + +Yonder comes something creeping up: a shapeless thing, like two little +black stripes, with something else; and it approaches.... + +At last and at length, out of those little stripes, appear a man and a +wife; and, out of the other thing, a barrel-organ on a cart, with a dog +between the wheels. + +It all looked the worse for wear. The little fellow went bent between the +shafts and tugged; the little old woman’s lean arms pushed against the +organ-case; and the wheeled thing jolted on like that over the cart-ruts, +along the drove and through the wide gate of an honest homestead. + +A flight of black crows sailed across the sky. The wind soughed through +the naked tree-tops; the mist rose and the world thinned away in a bluey +haze; this all vanished and slowly it became dark black night. + +Man, woman and dog, they crept, all three, high into the loft and deep +into the hay; and they dozed away, like all else outside them and around. +Warm they lay there! And dream they did, of the cold, of the dark and of +the sad moaning wind! + +At early morning, before it was bright day, they were on the tramp, over +the fallow fields, and drowned in a huge sea of thick blue mist. They +pulled for all they could: the little fellow in the shafts, the little +old woman behind the cart and the dog, with his head to the ground, for +the road’s sake. + +A red glow broke in the east and a new day brightened. ‘Twas all white, +snow-white, as if the blue mist had bleached, melted and stuck fast on +the black fields, on the half-withered autumn fruits and on the dark +fretwork of the trees. Great drops dripped from the boughs. + +From under the peak of his cap, the fellow peered into the distance with +his one eye, and he saw a church and houses. They went that way. + +‘Twas low-roofed cottages they saw, all covered with hoar-frost; here and +there stood one alone and then a whole little row, crowded close +together: a street. + +They were in the village. + +It was lone and still, like a cloister, with here a little woman who, +tucked into her hooded cloak, crept along the houses to the church; there +a smith who hammered ... and the little church-bell, which tinkled over +the house-tops. + +They stopped. The dog sat down to look. The little fellow threw off his +shoulder-strap, pulled his cap down lower and felt under the red-brown +organ-cloth for the handle. He gave a look at the houses that stood +before him, pinched his sunken mouth, wiped the seam of his sleeve over +his face and started grinding. Half-numbed sounds came trickling into the +chill street from under the organ-cloth: a sad--once, perhaps, +dance-provoking--tune, which now, false, dragging and twisted out of +shape, was like a muddled crawling of sounds all jumbled up together; +some came too soon, the others too late, as in a weariful dream; and, in +between, a sighing and creaking which came from very deep down, at each +third or fourth turn, and was deadened again at once in those +ever-recurring rough organ-sounds or dragged on and deafened in a mad +dance. ‘Twas like a poor little huddled soul uttering its plaint amid the +hullabaloo of rude men shouting aloud in the street. + +The dog also had begun to howl when the tune started. + +The little wife had settled her kerchief above her sharp-featured +old-wife’s face; and, with one hand in her apron-pocket and the other +holding a little tin can, she now went from door to door: + +“For the poor blind man.... God reward you.” + +And this through the whole street and farther, to the farmhouses, from +the one to the other, all day long, till evening fell again and that same +thick mist came to wrap everything in its grey, dark breath. + +And again they wandered, through a drove, to a homestead and into the +hay. + +“The dog has pupped,” said the little old woman; and she shook her man. + +“Pupped?...” + +And he turned in the nest which he had made for himself, pushed his head +deeper in the hay and drowsed on. He dreamt of dogs and of pups and of +organs and of ear-splitting yelps and howls. + +The dog lay in a fine, round little nest of his own, rolled into a ball +and moaning. And he[1] looked so sadly and kindly into the little old +woman’s eyes; and he licked, never stopped licking his puppies. They were +like three red-brown moles, each with a fat head; they wriggled their +thick little bodies together and sought about and squeaked. + +[1] The West-Fleming talks of dogs of either sex invariably as “he.” + +When the tramps had swallowed their slice of rye-bread and their dish of +porridge, they went on, elsewhither. The little fellow tugged, the little +old woman pushed and the dogs hung swinging between the wheels, in a +fig-basket. So they went begging, from hamlet to hamlet, the wide world +through: an old man and woman, with their organ; and a dog with his three +young pups. + + +***** + + +Much later.... + +The thick mist had changed into bright, glittering dewdrops and the sun +shone high in the heaven. Now four dogs lay harnessed to the cart, four +red-brown dogs. And, when the handle turned and the organ played, all +those four dogs lifted their noses on high and howled uglily. + +Inside, deep-hidden under the organ-cloth, sat the little soul, the +mysterious, shabby little organ-soul, grown quite hoarse now and almost +dumb. + + + + +III. CHRISTMAS NIGHT + +Over there, high up among the pines, stood the house where he lived alone +with the trees and the birds; and there, every morning, he saw the sun +rise and, in the evening, sink away again. And for how many years! + +In summer, the white clouds floated high over his head; the blackbirds +sang in the wood around his door; and before him, in a blue vista, lay +the whole world. + +When his harvest was gathered and the days drew in, when the sky closed +up, when the dry pines shook and rocked in the sad wind and the crows +dropped like black flakes and came cawing over the fields, he closed his +windows and sat down in the dark to brood. + +He must go down yonder now, to the village below. + +He fetched his Christmas star from the loft, restuck the gold flowers and +paper strips and fastened them in the cleft of the long wand. Then he put +on his greatcoat, drew the hood over his head and went. + +From behind the black clouds came a light, a dull copper glow, without +rays, high up where the stars were; it set golden edges to the hem of the +clouds; the heaven remained black. There appeared a little streak of +glowing copper, which grew and grew, became a sickle, a half-disk and at +last a great, round, giant gold moon, which rose and rose. It went up +like a huge round orange behind the heaven and, more and more swiftly, +shot up into the sky, growing smaller and smaller, till it became just a +common moon, the laughing moon among the stars. + +He alone had seen it. + +Now he took his star on his shoulder, pulled his hood deep over his head +and wandered down the little path, all over the snow, to where the lights +were burning. It was lonely, lifeless, that white plain under that +burnished sky; and he was all alone, the black fellow on the snow. And he +saw the world so big, so monotonously bleak; a flat, white wilderness, +with here and there a straight, thin poplar and a row of black, lean, +knotty willows. + +He went down towards the lights. + +The village lay still. The street was black with people. Great crowds of +womenfolk, tucked and muffled in black hooded cloaks, tramped as in a +dream along the houses, over the squeaking snow. They shuffled from door +to door, stuck out their bony hands and asked plaintively for their +God’s-penny. They disappeared at the end of the street and went trudging +into the endless moonlight. + +Children went with lights and stars and stood gathered in groups, their +black faces glowing in the shine of their lanterns; they made a huge din +with their tooting-horns[2] and rumble-pot[3] and sang of + + The Babe born in the straw + +and + + The shepherds they come here. + They’re bringing wood and fire + And this and that and t’other: + Now bring us a pot of beer. + +[2] A cow’s horn fitted with a mouthpiece. + +[3] An iron pot with a bladder stretched across the top, beaten with + sticks, like a drum. + +Mad Wanne went alone; she kept on lurching across the street with her +long legs, which stuck out far from under her skirt, and held her arms +wide open under her hooded cloak, like a demon bat. She snuffled +something about: + + ‘Twas hailing, ‘twas snowing and ‘twas bad weather + And over the roofs the wind it flew. + Saint Joseph said to Mary Maid: + “Mary, what shall we do?” + +Top[4] Dras, Wulf and Grendel, three fellows, tall as trees, were also +loafing round. They were the three Kings: Top had turned his big jacket +and blackened his face; Grendel wore a white sheet over his back and blew +the horn; and Wulf had a mitre on and carried a great star with a lantern +on a stick. So they dragged along the street, singing at every door: + + Three Kings with a star + Came travelling from afar, + Over mountains, hills and dale, + To go and look + In every nook, + To go and look for the Lord of All. + +[4] Beggar. + +Their rough voices droned and three great shadows walked far ahead of +them on the white street-snow. All those people came and went and twisted +and turned and came and went again. Each sang his own little song and +fretted his whining prayer. Above all this rose the dull toot of the +baker’s horn, as he kept on shouting: + +“Hot bread! Hot bread!” + +High hung the moon and blinked the stars; and fine white shafts fell +through the air, upon everything around, like silver pollen. + +“Maarten of the mountain!” whispered the children behind the window. +“Maarten the Freezyman!”[5] + +[5] A legendary figure of a snow-covered bogie, who comes down to the + villages at Christmas-time and runs away with the children. + +And they crept back into the kitchen, beside the fire. + +And the black man stood outside the door, tugging at the string of his +twirling star, and sang through his nose: + + Come, star, come, star, you must not so still stand! + You must go with me to Bethlehem Land, + To Bethlehem, that comely city, + Where Mary sits with her Babe on her knee.... + +Along the country-roads, the farmhouses stood snowed in, with black +window-shutters, which showed dark against the walls and shut in the +light, and stumpy chimneys, with thick smoke curling from them. Indoors, +there was no seeing clearly: the lamp hung from the ceiling in a ring of +steam and smoke and everything lay black and tumbled. In the hearth, the +yule-log lay blazing. The farmer’s wife baked waffles and threw them in +batches on the straw-covered floor. + +In one corner, under the light and wound from head to foot in +tobacco-smoke, were the farm-hands, playing cards. They sat wrapped up in +their game, bending over their little table, very quiet. Now and then +came a half-oath and the thud of a fist on the table and then again +peaceful shuffling and stacking and playing of their cards. + +The Freezyman sat in the midst of the children, who listened open-mouthed +to his tale of _The Mighty Hunter_. + +His star stood in the corner. + +Later, the big table was drawn out and supper served. All gathered round +and sat down and ate. First came potatoes and pork, red kale and pigs’ +chaps, then stewed apples and sausages ... and waffles, waffles, waffles. +They drank beer out of little glass mugs. The table was cleared, coffee +poured out, spirits fetched from the cupboard and gin burnt with sugar. +Then the chairs were pushed close, right round the hearth, and Maarten +stood up, took his star, smoothed his long beard and, keeping time by +tugging the string of his star, droned out: + + On Christmas night + Is Jesus born + To fight our fight + Against the night + Of Satan and his devil-spawn. + And a manger is His cot + And all humble is His lot; + _So, mortal, make you humble, too, + To serve Him Who thus served you_. + + Three wise men and each a king + Come to make Him offering; + Gold, frankincense and myrrh they bring. + Angels sweet + Kiss His feet, + As they sing: + “Hail, Lord and King!” + Telling all mankind the story + Of His wonder and His glory; + _So, mortal, make you humble, too, + To serve Him Who thus served you_. + +All else was still. The men sat drinking their hot gin, the children +listened with their heads on one side and the farmer’s wife, with her +hands folded over her great lap, sat crying. + +The door opened and the Kings stood in the middle of the floor. They were +white with snow and their faces blue with cold; the ice hung from +Grendel’s moustache. They looked hard under their hats at the table, the +hearth and the little glasses and at Maarten, who was still standing up. +Wulf made his star turn, Top banged his rumble-pot to time and they sang: + + Three Kings came out of the East; + ‘Twas to comfort Mary.... + +When the song was ended, each got two little glasses; then they could go. + +Grendel cursed aloud. + +“That damned hill-devil swallows it all up,” muttered Wulf. + +And they went off through the snow. + +The others sang and played and played cards for ever so long and ‘twas +late when Maarten took his star and, with a “Good-night till next year,” + pulled the door behind him. + +It was still light outside, but the sky hung full of snow; above, a grey +fleece and, lower, a swirl of great white flakes, which fell down slowly +swarming one on top of the other. + +He plunged deep into it.... It was still so far to go; and his house and +his pines, he had left them all so far behind. + +He was so old, so lone; it was so cold; and all the roads were white ... +all sky and snow. In the hollow lay the village: a little group of +sleeping houses round the white church-steeple; and behind it lay his +mountain, but it was like a cloud, a shapeless monster, very far away. + +Above his head, stars, stars in long rows. He stood still and looked up +and found one which he saw every evening, a pale, dead star, like an old +acquaintance, which would lead him--for the last time, perhaps--back to +his mountain, back home. + +And he trudged on. + +There was a light in the three narrow pointed windows of the chapel and +the bell tinkled within. He went to rest a bit against the wall. What a +noise and what a bustle all the evening ... and the gin! And those rough +chaps had looked at him so brutally. In there, it was still; those +windows gleamed so brightly; and, after the sound of the bell, there came +so softly a woman’s voice: + +“_Venite adoremus_....” + +Then all was silence, the lights went out. And he fared on. + +The village lay behind him and the road began to climb. There, on the +right, stood “The Jolly Hangman.” Now he knows his way and ‘tis no longer +far from home. From out of the ditch comes something creeping, a black +shape that runs across the plain, chattering like a magpie: Mad Wanne, +with her thin legs and her cloak wide open. She ran as fast as she could +run and vanished behind the inn. + +He had started; he became so frightened, so uneasy, that he hastened his +steps and longed to be at home. + +There was still a light in “The Jolly Hangman” and a noise of drunken +men. He passed, but then turned back again ... to sing his last song, +according to old custom. They opened the door and asked him in. He saw +Grendel sitting there and tried to get away. Then the three of them +rushed out and called after him. When they saw that he went on, they +broke into a run: + +“Stop, you brute!... Here, you with your star!... Oh, you damned singer +of songs!” they howled and ran and caught him and threw him down. + +Grendel dug his knee into his chest and held his arms stretched wide +against the ground. Wulf and Dras gripped whole handfuls of snow and +crammed it into his mouth and went on until all his face was thickly +covered and he lay powerless. Then they planted his star beside him in +the snow and began to turn and sing to the echo: + + _A, a, a_--glory be to Him on high to-day! + _E, e, e_--upon earth peace there shall be! + _I, i, i_--come and see with your own eye! + _O, o, o_--His little bed of straw below! + +Like a flash, Mad Wanne shot past, yelling and shrieking. Wulf flung his +stick against her legs. She waved her arms under her cloak and vanished +in the dark. + +The three men sat down by the ditch and laughed full-throated. Then they +started for the village. Long it rang: + + Three Kings came out of the East; + ‘Twas to comfort Mary ... + +Great white flakes fell from the starry sky, wriggled and swarmed, one on +top of the other. + + + + +IV. LOAFING + +He went, ever on the move, with the slow, shuffling step of wandering +beggars who are nowhere at home. + +They had discharged him, some time ago, and now he was walking alone like +a wild man. For whole days he had dragged himself through the moorland, +from farm to farm, looking for his bread like the dogs. Now he came to a +wide lane of lime-trees and before him lay the town, asleep. He went into +it. The streets lay dead, the doors were shut, the windows closed: all +the people were resting; and he loafed. It was dreary, to walk alone like +that, all over the country-side, and with such a body: a giant with huge +legs and arms, which were doomed to do nothing, and that belly, that +craving belly, which he carried about with him wherever he went. + +And nobody wanted him: ‘twas as though they were afraid of his strong +limbs and his stubborn head--because his glowing eyes could not entreat +meekly enough--and his blackguardly togs.... + +Morning came; the working-folk were early astir. Lean men and pale women, +carrying their kettles and food-satchels in their hands, beat the +slippery pavements with their wooden shoes. Doors and windows flew open; +life began; every one walked with a busy air, knew where he was going; +and they vanished here and there, through a big gate or behind a narrow +door that shut with a bang. Carts with green stuff, waggons with sand and +coal drove this way and that. Fellows with milk and bread went round; and +it grew to a din of calls and cries, each shouting his loudest. + +And he loafed. Nobody looked at him, noticed him or wanted him. In the +middle of the forenoon, a young lady had stared at him for a long time +and said to her mother: + +“What a huge fellow!” + +He had heard her and it did him good. He looked round, but mother and +daughter were gone, behind a corner, and stood gazing into a shop full of +bows and ribbons. + +It began to whirl terribly in his belly; and his stomach hurt him so; and +his legs were tired. + +The streets and houses and all those strange people annoyed him. He +wanted to get away, far away, and to see men like himself: workers +without work, who were hungry! + +He looked for the narrow alleys and the poor quarter. + +Out of a side-street a draycart came jogging along. Half a score of +labourers lay tugging in the shoulder-strap or leant with all the force +of their bodies against the cart, which rolled on toilsomely. ‘Twas a +load of flax, packed tightly in great square bales standing one against +the other, the whole cart full. The dray caught its right wheel in the +grating of an open gutter and remained stock-still, leaning aslant, as +though planted there. The workmen racked and wrung to get the wheel out, +but it was no good. Then they stood there, staring at one another, at +their wits’ end and throwing glances into the eyes of that big fellow who +had come to look on. Without saying or speaking, he caught a spoke in +either hand, pressed with his mighty shoulder against the inside of the +wheel, bent and wrung and in a turn brought the cart on the level. Then +he went behind among the other workmen to go and help them shove. They +looked at him queerly, as if to say that they no longer needed his help +and had rather done without him. The cart rolled on, another street or +two, and then through the open gate of the warehouse. The labourers +looked into one another’s eyes uneasily, moved about, pulled the bales +off the cart and dragged them a little farther along the wall. Then they +tailed off, one by one, through a small inner door; and he stood there +alone, like a fool. A bit later, he heard them laugh and whisper under +their breaths. When he was tired of waiting, he went up the street again. + +Nobody, nobody, nobody wanted him! + +He ground his teeth and clenched his fists. In the street through which +he had to go, on the spaces outside the hotels sat ladies and gentlemen +toying with strange foods and sipping their wine out of long goblets. +They chattered gaily and tasted and pecked with dainty lips and turned-up +noses. The waiters ran here, there, like slaves. Those coaxing smells +stung like adders and roused evil thoughts in his brain. His stomach +fretted awfully and his empty head turned. + +He hurried away. + +In a street with windowless house-fronts, a street without people in it, +he felt better. He let his body lean against the iron post of a gas-lamp, +stuck his hands in his trouser-pockets and stood there looking at the +paving-stones. Now he was damned if he would take another step, he would +rather croak here like a beast; then they would have to take him up and +know that he existed. + +The boys coming from school mocked him; they danced in a ring, with him, +the big fellow, in the middle. They hung paper flags on his back and +sang: + + Hat, hat, + Ugly old hat! + It serves as a slop-pail and as a hat! + +He did not stir. + +Yon came a milk-maid driving up in a cart drawn by dogs. He got a gnawing +in his arms, a spout of blood shot to his head and he suddenly felt as if +something was going to happen. Just as she drove past, he put his great +hand on the edge of the little cart, with one pull took a copper can from +its straw, put it to his mouth and drank; then he sent the can clattering +through the window of the first-best house, till the panes rattled again. +Looking round--as if bewildered and set going, roused by what he had +done--he caught sight of the frightened little dairy-maid. A mocking grin +played on his cruel face; he flung his rough arm round her little body +and lifted the girl out of the cart right up to his face in a fierce hug. + +The boys had fled shrieking. He felt two pairs of hands pulling at his +sleeves from below. He loosed the girl and saw two policemen who held him +fast and ordered him to go with them. They held him by the arm on either +side and stepped hurriedly to keep pace with his great strides. They +looked in dismay at that huge fellow, with his wicked eyes, and then at +each other, as if to ask what they should do. + +They came to a narrow little street, with nobody in it, and stopped at a +public-house: + +“Could you do with a dram, mate?” they asked him. + +He looked bewildered, astounded. They all three went inside; and each of +them drank a big glass of gin. + +The policemen whispered something together; the elder wiped the drink +from his moustache and then said, very severely: + +“And now, clear out; hurry up! And mind your manners, will you, next +time!” + +He was outside once more, loafing on, along the houses. + + + + +V. SPRING + +Mother stood like a clucking hen among her red-cheeked youngsters. She +was holding a loaf against her fat stomach and, with a curved +pruning-knife, was cutting off good thick slices which the youngsters +snatched away one by one and stuffed into their pockets. Horieneke +fetched her basket of knitting and her school-books. She first pulled +Fonske’s stocking up once more, buttoned Sarelke’s breeches and wiped +Lowietje’s nose; and, with an admonishing “Straight to school, do you +hear, boys?” from mother, the whole band rushed out of the door, through +the little flower-garden and up the broad unmetalled road, straight +towards the great golden sun which was rising yonder, far behind the +pollard alders, in a mighty fire of rays. It was cool outside; the sky +was bright blue streaked with glowing shafts aslant the hazy-white clouds +deep, deep in the heavens. Over the level fields, ever so far, lay a +stain of pale green and brown; and the slender stalks of the wheat stood +like needles, quivering in their glittering moisture. The trees were +still nearly bare; and their trunks and tops stood tall and black against +the clear sky; but, when you saw them together, in rows or little +clusters, there was a soft yellow-green colour over them, spotted with +gleaming buds ready to burst. A soft wind, just warm enough to thaw the +frost, worked its way into and through everything and made it all shake +and swarm till it was twisted full of restless, growing life. That wind +curled through the youngsters’ tangled hair and coloured their round +cheeks cherry-red. They ran and romped through the dry sand, stamping +till it flew above their heads. They were mad with enjoyment. + +Trientje stood in the doorway, in her little shirt, with her stomach +sticking out, watching her brothers as they disappeared; and, when she +saw them no longer, she thrust her fists into her sockets, opened her +mouth wide and started a-crying, until mother’s hands lifted her up by +the arms and mother’s thick lips gave her a hearty kiss. + +Horieneke came walking step by step under the lime-trees, along the +narrow grass-path beside the sand, keeping her eyes fixed on the play of +her knitting-needles. When she reached the bridge that crossed the brook, +she looked round after her brothers. They had run down the slope and were +now trotting wildly one after the other through the rich brown grass, +pulling up all the white and yellow flowers, one by one, till their arms +were crammed with them. Horieneke took out her catechism, laid it open on +the low rail and sat there cheerfully waiting. Sarelke had crept through +the water-flags until he was close to the brook and, through the clear, +gleaming blue water, watched a little fish frisking about. In a moment, +his wooden shoes and his stockings were off and one leg was in the water, +trying it: it was cold; and he felt a shiver right down his back. Ripples +played on the smooth blue and widened out to the bank. The little fish +was gone, but so was the cold; and he saw more fish, farther away: quick +now, the other leg in the water! He pulled his breeches up high and there +he stood, with the water well above his knees, peering out for fish. The +water was clear as glass; and he saw swarms of them playing, darting +swiftly up and down, to and fro like arrows: they shot past in shoals +that held together like long snakes, in among the moss and the reeds and +between the stones, winding through slits and crannies. He shouted aloud +for joy. Bertje and Wartje and the others all had their stockings off and +stood in the water bending down to look, making funnels of their hands in +the water, where it rustled in little streams between two grass-sods +through which the fish had to pass. Whenever they felt one wriggling in +their hands they yelled and screamed and sprang out of the brook to put +it into their wooden shoes, which stood on the bank, scooped full of +water. There they loitered examining those beasties from close by: those +fish were theirs now; and they would let them swim about in the big tub +at home and give them a bit of their bread and butter every day, so that +they might grow into great big pike. And now back to the runnel for more. + +“Boys, I’ll tell mother!” cried Horieneke. + +But they did not hear and just kept on as before. Fonske had not been +able to catch one yet and his fat legs were turning blue with the cold. +In front of him stood Bertje, stooping and peering into the water, with +his hands ready to grasp; and Fonske saw such a lovely little runnel from +his neck to halfway down his back, all bare skin. He carefully scooped +his hands full of water and let it trickle gently inside Bertje’s shirt. +The boy growled; and Fonske, screaming with laughter, skipped out of the +brook. Now came a romping and stamping in the water, a dashing and +splashing with their hands till it turned to a rain of gleaming drops +that fell on their heads and wetted their clothes through and through. +And a bawling! And a plashing with their bare legs till the spray spouted +high over the bank. + +“The constable!” cried Horieneke. + +The sport was over. Like lightning they all sprang out of the brook, +caught up their wooden shoes with the little fish in them and ran as hard +as they could through the grass to the bridge. There only did they +venture to look round. Hurriedly they turned down their breeches, dried +their shiny cheeks and dripping hair with one another’s handkerchiefs and +then marched all together through the sun and wind to school. + +In the village square they wandered about among the other boys, silently +showed their catch, hid their shoes in the hawthorn-hedge behind the +churchyard and stayed playing until schoolmaster’s bell rang. + +Boys and girls, each on their own side, disappeared through the gate; and +the street was now silent as the grave. After a while, there came through +the open window of the school first a sort of buzzing and humming and +then a repetition in chorus, a rhythmical spelling aloud: b-u-t, but; +t-e-r, ter: butter; B-a, Ba; b-e-l, bel: Babel; ever on and more and more +noisily. In between it all, the sparrows chattered and chirped and +fluttered safely in the powdery sand of the playground. + +The sun was now high in the sky and the light glittered on the young +leaves, full of the glad life of youth and gleaming with gold. + +Horieneke, with a few more children, was in another school. They sat, the +boys on one side and the girls on the other, on long benches and were +wrapped up in studying their communion-book and listening to an old nun, +who explained it to them in drawling, snuffling tones. After that, they +had to say their lesson, one by one; and this all went so quietly, so +modestly, so easily, ‘twas as if they had the open book before them. +Half-way through the morning, they went two and two through the village +to the church, where the priest was waiting to hear their catechism. This +also went quietly; and the questions and answers sounded hollow in that +empty church. + +Horieneke sat at the head of the girls; she had caught up almost half of +them because she always knew her lessons so well and listened so +attentively. She was allowed to lead the prayers and was the first +examined; then she sat looking at the priest and listening to what came +from his lips. He always gave her a kind smile and held her up to the +others as an example of good conduct. After the catechism, they had leave +to go and play in the convent-garden. In the afternoon, there were new +lessons to be learnt and new explanations; and then quietly home. + +So they lived quite secluded, alone, in their own little world of modesty +and piety, preparing for the great day. The other youngsters, who went +their several ways, felt a certain awe for these school-fellows who once +used to romp and fight with them and who were now so good, so earnest, so +neat in their clothes and so polite. The “first-communicants:” the word +had something sacred about it which they respected; and the little ones +counted on their fingers how many years they would have to wait before +they too were learning their catechism and having leave to play in the +convent-garden. + +To her brothers Horieneke had now become a sacred thing, like a guardian +angel who watched over them everywhere; and they dared do no mischief +when she was by. She no longer played with them after school; she was now +their “big sister,” to whom they softly whispered the favours which they +wished to get out of mother. + +When Trientje saw her sister coming home in the distance, she put out her +little arms and then would not let her go. For mother, Horieneke had to +wash the dishes, darn the stockings and, when the baby cried, sit for +hours rocking it in the cradle or dandling it on her lap, like a little +young mother. + +Holding Trientje by the hand and carrying the other on her arm, she would +walk along the paths of the garden and then put them both down on the +bench in the box arbour, while she tended the plants and shrubs that were +beginning to shoot. + +In the evening, when the bell rang for benediction, she called all her +little brothers and they went off to church together. From every side +came wives in hooded cloaks and lads in wooden shoes that stamped on the +great floor till it echoed in the silent nave. + +The choir was a semicircular, homely little chapel, with narrow pointed +windows, black at this hour, like deep holes, with leads outlining saints +in shapeless dark patches of colour. The altar was a mass of burning +candles; and a flickering gleam fell on the brass candlesticks, the +little gold leaves and the artificial flowers and on the corners of the +silver monstrance, which stood glittering high up in a little white satin +house. All of this was clouded in a blue smoke which rose from the holes +of the censer continuously swung to and fro by the arm of a roguish +serving-boy. Far at the back, in the dark, in the black stripes of shadow +cast by the pillars or under the cold bright patch of a lamp or a stand +of votive candles was an old wife, huddled under her hood, with bent +back, praying, and here and there a troop of boys who by turns dropped +their wooden shoes or fought with one another’s rosaries. + +Near the communion-bench knelt Horieneke, her eyes wide open, full of +brightness and gladness and ecstacy, face to face with Our Lord. The +incense smelt so good and the whole little church was filled with the +trailing chords of the organ and with soft, plaintive Latin chant. Her +lips muttered automatically and the beads glided through her fingers: +numbered Hail Marys like so many roses that were to adorn her heart +against the coming of the great God. Her thoughts wafted her up to Heaven +in that wide temple full of glittering lights where, against the high +walls full of pedestals and niches, the saints, all stiff with gold and +jewels, stood smiling under their haloes and the nimble angels flew all +around on their white-plaster wings. She had something to ask of every +one of them and they received her prayer in turns. When the priest stood +up in his gleaming silver cope, climbed the three steps and took the +Blessed Sacrament in his white hands to give the benediction; when the +bell tinkled and the censer flew on high and the organ opened all its +throats and the glittering monstrance slowly made a cross in the air and +above the heads of the worshippers, she fell forward over her +praying-stool and lay like that, swooning in mute adoration, until all +was silent again, the candles out and she sitting alone there in the dark +with a few black shapes of cloaked women who wandered discreetly from one +station of the Cross to the next. Outside she heard her brothers playing +in the church-square. There she joined the little girls of her school; +and, arm in arm, they walked along past the dark houses and the silent +trees, each whispering her own tale: about her new dress, her veil, her +white shoes, her long taper with golden bows; about flowers and beads and +prayers.... + +After supper, Horieneke had to rock the baby to sleep, while mother moved +about, and then to say the evening prayers out loud, after which they all +of them went to bed. On reaching her little bedroom, she visited all the +prints and images hanging on the walls. She then undressed and listened +whether any one was still awake or up. Next she carefully crept down the +three stairs[6] in her little shift and clambered up the ladder to the +loft, where all her little brothers lay playing in a great box-bed. They +knew that she would come and had kept a place for her in the middle. She +sank deep in the straw and, when they all lay still, she went on with the +tale which she had broken off yesterday half-way. It was all made up of +long, long stories out of _The Golden Legend_ and wonderful adventures of +far beyond the sea in unknown lands. She told it all so prettily, so +leisurely; and the children listened like eager little birds. High up in +the dusk of the rafters they saw all those things happening before their +eyes in the black depths and saw the mad fairy-dance there, until they +dreamed off for good and all and Horieneke was left the only one awake, +still telling her story. Then she crept carefully back to her room and +into bed, where she lay counting: how many more days, how many times +sleeping and getting up and how many more lessons to learn ... and then +the great day! The great day! Slowly she made all the days, with their +special happenings, appear before her eyes; and she enjoyed beforehand +all those beautiful things which had kept her so long a-longing. When, in +her thoughts, it came to Saturday evening and at last, slowly--like a box +with something wonderful inside which you daren’t open--to that Sunday +morning, then her heart began to flutter, a thrill ran through her body +and, so that she shouldn’t weep for gladness, she bit her lips, squeezed +her hands between her knees and rubbed them until the ecstasy was passed +and she again lay smiling in supreme content and shivering with delight. + +[6] The bedroom behind the kitchen or living-room, in the Flemish + cottages, is over the cellar; but this cellar is not entirely + underground and is lighted by a very low window at the back. + Consequently, the floor of the bedroom is a little higher than that + of the living-room and is approached by a flight of two or three + steps. + +Time dragged on; cold weather came and rain and it seemed as if it never +would be summer. And that constant repetition of getting up and going to +bed and learning her lessons and counting the hours and the minutes +became so dreary and seemed to go round and round in an endless circle. + +To-day at last was the long-awaited holiday when Horieneke might go into +town with mother to buy clothes. Her heart throbbed; and she walked +beside mother, with eyes wide-open, looking round at every window, up one +street and down another, crying aloud each time for joy when she saw +pretty things displayed. They bought white slippers with little bows, a +splendid wreath of white lilies of the valley, a great veil of woven +lace, a white-ivory prayer-book, a mother-of-pearl rosary with a little +glass peep-hole in the silver crucifix, showing all manner of pretty +things. Horieneke sighed with happiness. Mother haggled and bargained, +said within herself that it was “foolishness to waste all that money,” + but bought and went on buying; and, every time something new went into +the big basket, it was: + +“Don’t tell father what it cost, Rieneke!” + +All those pretty things were locked away in the bedroom at home and hung +up in the oak press, while father was still at work. + +On another evening, when mother and Horieneke were alone at home, the +seamstress brought the new clothes: a whole load of white muslin in stiff +white folds full of satin bows and ribbons and white lace. They had to be +tried on; and Horieneke stood there, for the first time in her life, all +in white, like an angel. But the happiness lasted only for a spell: there +came a noise and every one in the room fled and the clothes were hastily +taken off and put away. + +Every day, when the boys were at school and father in the fields, +neighbours came to look at the clothes. Piece after piece was carefully +taken out of the press and spread out for show on the great bed. The +wives felt and tested the material, examined the tucks and seams and the +knots and the lining, the bows and ribbons and clapped their hands +together in admiration. It became known all over the village that +Horieneke would be the finest of all in the church. + +The counted days crept slowly by, the sun climbed higher every day and +the mornings and evenings lengthened. Things out of doors changed and +grew as you looked: the young green stood twinkling on every hand; the +fields lay like coloured carpets, sharply outlined; and the trees grew +long, pale branches with leaves which stood out like stately plumes +against the sky, so full of youth and freshness and free from dust as yet +and tender. In course of time, white buds came peeping, gleaming amid the +delicate young leaves, till all looked like a spotted altar-cloth: a +promising splendour of white blossoms. Here and there in the garden an +early flower came creeping out. Yonder, in the dark-blue wood, patches of +brown and of pale colour stood out clearly, with a whole variety of vivid +hues. And it had all come so unexpectedly, all of a sudden, as though, by +some magic of the night, it was all set forth to adorn and grace a great +festival. + +In the fields, the folk were hard at work. The land was turned up and +torn and broken by the gleaming plough and lay steaming in purple clods +in the sun’s life-giving rays. Everything swarmed with life and movement. +The houses were done up and coated with fresh whitewash, the shutters +painted green, till it all shouted from afar in a glad mosaic, with the +blue of the sky and the young leafage of the trees, under the brown, +moss-grown roofs. + +And the days crept on, each counted and marked off: so many white stripes +on the rafters and black stripes on the almanack; they fell away one by +one and the Saturday came, the long-expected eve of the great Sunday. +Quite early, before sunrise, the linen hung outside, the white smocks and +shirts waving, like fluttering pennons, from the clothes-lines in the +white orchard. Horieneke also was up betimes and helping mother in her +work. From top to bottom everything had to be altered and done over again +and cleansed. It was only with difficulty that she got to school. The +last time! To-day, the great examination of conscience, the general +confession and the communion-practice; and, to-night, everything to be +laid out ready for to-morrow morning: all this kept running anyhow +through her head and among the lines of her lesson-book. + +Half-way through the morning they went to church. The children there all +looked so glad, so happy and so clean and neat in their second-best +clothes and so nicely washed. They now made their confessions for the +last time; and it all went so pleasantly: they had done no wrong for such +a long while and all their sins had already been forgiven two or three +times over, yesterday and the day before. They sat in two long rows +waiting their turns and thinking over, right away back to their far-off +babyhood, whether nothing had been forgotten or omitted: their little +hearts must be quite stainless now and pure. When they were tired of +examining their consciences, they fell to praying, with their eyes fixed +upon the saint who stood before them on his pedestal, or else watched the +other youngsters going in and out by turns. + +The little church looked its best, neat as a new pin: the floor was +freshly scrubbed and the chairs placed side by side in straight rows; the +brasswork shone like gold; and a new communion-cloth hung, like a +snow-white barrier, in front of the sanctuary. The velvet banners were +stripped of their linen covers; and the blue vases, with bright flowers +and silver bunches of grapes, were put out on the altar, as on +feast-days. And all of this was for to-morrow! And for them! + +All the time it was deathly still, with not a sound but that of the +youngsters going in and out of the creaking confessional. Now and then +the church-door flapped open and banged to, when one of the children had +finished and went away. Their little souls were white as new-fallen snow +and bedight with indulgences and prayers. On their faces lay the fresh +innocence of babes brought to baptism or of laughing angels’ heads and in +their wide eyes everything was reflected festively and at its best; they +felt so light and lived on little but longing and a holy fear of their +own worthiness: that great, incredible thing of the morrow was suddenly +going to change them from children into grown-up people! + +They just gave themselves time to have their dinners in a hurry; and then +back to school, where they were to learn how to receive communion. A few +benches placed next to one another represented the communion-rails; and +there they practised the whole afternoon: with studied piety, their hands +folded and their heads bowed, they learnt how to genuflect, how to rise, +how to approach in ranks and return at a sign from the old nun, who +tapped with a key on the arm of her chair each time that a new row of +youngsters had to start, kneel or go back. In a short time this went as +exactly, as evenly as could be, just like soldiers drilling. Finally, +they had to recite once more their acts of faith, adoration and +thanksgiving; and Horieneke and the first of the little boys had to write +out on large sheets of paper the preparation and thanks which they had +learnt by heart, to be read to-morrow in church. After that, they were +drawn up in line and silently and mysteriously led into the convent. + +The children held their breath and walked carefully down long passages, +between high, white walls, past closed doors with inscriptions in Gothic +letters and a smell of clean linen and apples: ever on and on, through +more passages, till they reached a large hall full of chairs where Mother +Prioress--a fat and stately nun, with her great big head covered by her +cap and her hands in her sleeves--sat upon a throne. They had to file +past her, one by one, with a low bow, and then sit down. + +Mother Prioress settled herself in her seat, coughed and, in a rich, +throaty voice, began by telling the youngsters how they were to address +Our Lord; told stories of children who had become saints; and she ended +by slowly and cautiously producing a little glass case in which a thorn +out of Our Lord’s crown lay exposed on a red-velvet cushion. And then +they were sent home. + +On the way, Horieneke came upon her brothers playing in the sand. They +had scooped it up in their wooden shoes and poured it into a heap in the +middle of the road and then wetted it; and now they were boring all sorts +of holes in it and tunnels and passages and making it into a +rats’-castle. She let them be, gathered up her little skirts, so as not +to dirty them, and passed by on one side. + +Mother was up to her elbows in the golden dough of the cakebread, +stirring and beating and patting the jumble of eggs and flour and milk. +Horieneke took the crying baby out of the cradle, shaking and tossing it +in the air, and went into the garden just outside the door. The golden +afternoon sun lay all around and everything was radiant with translucid +green. The little path lay neatly raked and the yellow daffodils stood, +like brass trumpets, closely ranked on their stalks; under the shrubs +bright violets peeped out with raised eyebrows, like the grinning faces +of little old wives. The whole garden was filled with a scent of fresh +jasmine and a cool fragrance of cherry-blossom and peach. + +It was all so still and peaceful that Horieneke, who had begun to sing, +stopped in the middle and stood listening to the chaffinches and siskins +chattering pell-mell. + +From there she went to her little bedroom, laid the child on her bed and +drew the curtains before the window which let in the sun in a thousand +slender beams of dusty light. The pictures and images gleamed on the wall +and the saints seemed to smile with happiness in that cool air, fragrant +of gillyflowers and white jasmine. She took out her new prayer-book, +flicked the silver clasp open and shut and played with the little shaft +of light which the gilt edge sent running all round the white walls. Then +she stood musing for a long time, gazing out through the little curtains +at those white trees in blossom, around and above which the golden pollen +danced, and at all that huge green field and the everlasting sun and all +the blue on the horizon. And, feeling tired, she laid her head on the bed +beside the baby and lingered there, dreaming of all the delight and +beauty of the morrow. + +Mother called her and Horieneke came down. Mam’selle Julie was there, who +had promised to come and curl the child’s hair. Mam’selle put on a great +apron and began to undress Horieneke; then a great tub of rain-water was +carried in and the girl was scrubbed and washed with scented soap till +the whole tub was full of suds. Her head was washed as well and her hair +plaited into little braids, which were rolled up one by one and wound in +curl-papers and fastened to her head, under a net. Her cheeks and neck +shone like transparent china with the rosy blood coursing underneath. +When she was done, Mam’selle Julie went off to the other communicants. + +The boys were lying on their backs, under the walnut-tree, talking, when +Horieneke came past. They looked at the funny twists on her head and went +on talking: Wartje longed most of all to put on his new breeches; Fonske +was glad that Uncle Petrus was coming to-morrow and Aunt Stanske and +Cousin Isidoor; Bertje because of the dog-cart[7] and the dogs and the +chance of a ride; Wartje because of all that aunt would bring with her in +her great wicker basket; and Dolfke longed for father to come home from +work, so that he might help to clean the rabbits. + +[7] The Flemish low-wheeled cart drawn by dogs. + +The sun played with the gold in the leaves of the walnut-tree; and the +radiant tree-top was all aswarm and astir and little golden shafts were +shooting in all directions. The first butterfly of the year rocked like a +white flower through the air. + +“I smell something!” said Dolfke. + +They all sniffed and: + +“Mates! They’re taking the cake-bread out of the oven!” + +They rushed indoors one on top of the other. On the table lay four +golden-yellow brown-crusted loaves, as big as cart-wheels, steaming till +the whole house smelt of them. + +“First let it cool! Then you can eat it,” said mother and gave each of +them a flat scone. + +“Yes, mother.” + +And they trotted round the kitchen holding their treasures high above +their heads and screaming with delight. + +Behind the elder-hedge they heard father’s voice humming: + + When the sorrel shows, + ‘Tis then the month of May, O!... + +They ran to him, took the tools out of his hands and: + +“Father, the rabbits! The rabbits now, father?” + +“Will it be fine weather to-morrow?” asked Horieneke. + +“For sure, child: just see how clear the sun is setting.” + +He pointed to the west; and the boys stood on tip-toe to see the sinking, +dull-glowing disk hang glittering in its gulf of orange cloud-reefs, +pierced through and through with bright rays that melted away high in the +pale blue and grey, while that disk hung there so calmly, as though +frozen into the sky for ever. + +Father had one or two things to do and then the boys might come along to +the rabbits. + +“The two white ones, eh, father?” + +Father nodded yes; and Sarelke and Dolfke skipped along the boards to the +hutch and came back each carrying a long white rabbit by the ears. + +Dolfke held his close to the ground, hidden behind a tree, so that it +shouldn’t see the other’s blood and foresee its own death. While father +was sharpening his knife, Fonske took a cord and tied the hind-legs of +Sarelke’s rabbit and hung it, head down, on a nail under the eaves. +Father struck it behind the ears so that it was dazed and, rolling its +eyes, remained hanging stock-still. Before it had time to scream, the +knife was in its neck and the throat was cut open. A little stream of +dark blood trickled to the ground and clotted; and some of it hung like +an icicle from the beard, which dripped incessantly with red drops. + +Fonske carefully put his finger to the rabbit’s nose and licked off a +drop of blood. + +“It’s going home,” said Sarelke. + +“Is it dead, father?” sighed Wartje. + +“Stone-dead, my boy.” + +He ripped one buttock with his knife and pulled off the skin; then the +other, so that the blue flesh was laid bare and the little purple veins. +One more tug and the creature hung disfigured beyond all knowledge, in +its bare buttocks and its fat, bulging paunch, with its head all over +blood and its eyes sticking out. The belly and breast were cut open from +end to end and the guts removed; the gall-bladder was flung into the +cess-pool; two bits of stick, to keep the hind-legs and the skin of the +stomach apart, and the thing was done. The other was treated likewise; +and the two rabbits hung skinned and cleaned, stiffening high up on the +gable-end. + +Meanwhile mother had got supper ready: a heap of steaming potatoes +soaking in melted butter and, after that, bread-and-butter and a pan of +porridge. Horieneke, by way of a treat, got a couple of eggs and a slice +of the new cakebread; and she sat enjoying this at the small table. After +supper, the boys had to be washed and cleaned. They started undressing +here and undressing there; serge breeches and jackets flew over the +floor; and one after the other they were taken in hand by mother, beside +a kettle of water, where they were rubbed and rinsed with foaming +soap-suds. Then each was given a clean shirt; and away to bed with them! +They jumped and, with their shirt-tails waving behind them, skipped about +and smacked one another until father came along and stopped their game. +Mother had still her floor to scrub; and Horieneke read out evening +prayers while the boys knelt beside their bed. + +Now all grew still. Father smoked a pipe and took a stroll in the +moonlight through the orchard, where he had always something to look +after or to do. Indoors the broom went steadily over the floor; whole +kettlefuls of water were poured out and swept away and rubbed dry. Then +the stove was lit; and, while mother blacked the shoes, father made the +coffee. They mumbled a bit together--about to-morrow’s doings, about the +children, the work, the hard times and their troublesome landlord, the +farmer of the woodside--when there came a noise from the little bedroom +and the door creaked softly. Horieneke suddenly appeared in the middle of +the floor in her little nightgown; and, before father and mother had got +over their surprise, the child was on her knees, asking: + +“Forgive me, father and mother, for all the wrong that I have done you in +my life; and I promise you now to be always good and obedient....” + +Mother was furious at first; and then, at the sight of the kneeling +figure and the sound of the tearful little voice, her anger fell and she +felt like crying. Father hated all that sentimental rubbish: + +“Come, you baggage, quick to bed!... Forgive you? What for?... Nonsense, +nonsense!” + +The child kept on weeping: + +“Father, please, it’s my first communion to-morrow and we must first +receive forgiveness: Sister at school said so....” + +“The sisters at school are mad! And they’ll make you mad too! To bed with +you now, d’you hear?” + +Mother could stand it no longer; she sobbed aloud, took Horieneke under +the arms and lifted her to her breast. She felt a lump in her throat and +could hardly get out her words: + +“It’s all forgiven, my darling. God bless you and keep you! And now go +quick to bed; you have to be up early to-morrow.” + +Horieneke put her arm over mother’s shoulders and whispered softly in her +ear: + +“I have something else to ask you, mother. All the children’s parents are +going to communion to-morrow: shall you too, mother?” + +“Make your heart easy, dear; it’ll be all right.” + +“Mother, will you call me in good time to-morrow morning?” + +“Yes, yes; go to bed.” + +The house grew quiet as the grave; and soon a manifold snoring and +grunting sounded all through the bedroom and the loft. Outside it was +twilight and the blossoms shone pale white in the orchard. The crickets +chirped far and near.... + +This was the last evening and morning: when it was once more so late and +dark, everything would be over and done! All those days, all that long +array of light and darkness, of learning and repeating lessons--a good +time nevertheless--was past and gone; and, now that the great thing, +always so remote, so inaccessible, was close at hand, she was almost +sorry that the longing and the aching were to cease and she almost felt +afraid. Should she dare to sleep to-night? No. ‘Twas so good to lie awake +thinking; and she had still so much praying to do: her heart was still +far from ready and prepared. + +“O God, I am a poor little child and Thou art willing to come to me.... +Dear Virgin Mary, make my soul as pure as snow, so that it may become a +worthy dwelling-place for thy Divine Son.” + +The white dress now lay spread out upon the best bed in the big bedroom +and her wreath too, with all the rest. She already saw herself clad in +all that white wealth like a little queen, standing laughing through her +golden curls! She felt the little knots of paper on her head; to-morrow +they would be released and would open into a cloud of ringlets; and the +people, who would all look at her; and aunt.... Now just to recite her +words once more for to-morrow in church.... And that pretty picture which +the priest would give her.... Was she sure that nothing was forgotten? +Just let her think again: and her candle-cloth? Yes, that was there +too.... What could the time be? The clock was ticking like a heavy chap’s +footstep downstairs in the kitchen. It was deathly quiet everywhere. Now +she would lie and wait until the clock struck, so that she might know how +long it would be before it grew light. Her eyes were so tired and all +sorts of things were walking higgledy-piggledy up the white wall.... + +Then, in the solemn stillness, the nightingale began to sing. Three clear +notes rang out from the echoing coppice; it was like the voice of the +organ in a great church. It sounded over the fields, to die away in a +low, hushed fluting. Now, louder and staccato, like a spiral stair of +metallic sound, the notes rang out, high and low alternately, in +quickening time, a running, rustling and rioting, with long-drawn +pipings, wonderfully sweet, that rose in a storm of bell-like tinklings, +limpid as water, with a strength, a violence, a precision exceeding the +music of a hundred thousand tipsy carrillons pealing through the silent +night. And now again the notes were softly weaving their fabric of sound: +bewitchingly quiet, intimately sweet, musingly careful, like the music of +tiny glass bells; and once more they were louder and again they fainted +away, borne on the still wind like the murmur of angels praying. + +The blue velvety canopy was stretched on high, studded with twinkling +stars; and all about the country-side the trees stood white. On the +winding paths, among the pinks, anemones, guelder-roses and +jasmine-bushes, walked stately white figures in trailing garments, with +wreaths of white roses and yellow flowers gleaming on their golden +tresses, which they shook out over their white shoulders. All the world +was one pure vista full of blue, curling mist and fresh, untasted +fragrance. A soft melody of dreamy song was wafted through the air. And +Horieneke saw herself also playing in that great garden, an angel among +angels. Ropes hung stretched from tree to tree; and they swung upon them +and rocked with streaming hair and fluttering garments, floating high +above the tree-tops, light as the wind, in a shower of white blossoms. +They sang all together, with those who lay on the beds of white lilies +and violets: a song of unheard sweetness. Not one spoke of leaving off or +going home; they only wished to stay like that, without rain or darkness; +there was a continual happy frolic, a glad gaiety, in those spacious +halls where, in spite of the singing and the music, all things were yet +so deliciously, languidly still, still as the moonlight. + +Yonder, by the dark wood, the steady swish of a sickle was heard; and +this made a fearsome noise in the tenuous night. A gigantic man stood +there; his head looked over the trees and his wide-stretched arms swung +the sickle and a pick-hook; and, stroke by stroke, the foliage and the +flowers fell beneath his hands as he passed. The singing gradually +ceased, the swings fell slack and the frolic changed into an anxious +waiting, as before thunder. One and all stood in terror and dismay +staring at that giant approaching. The blue of the sky darkened and the +angels vanished, like lamps that were blown out. The flowers were faded +and the whole plain lay mown flat, like a stricken wilderness; and that +fellow with his sickle, who now drew himself up to contemplate his +finished work, was ... her father! + +She started awake and trembled with fright. It had been so beautiful that +she sighed at the thought of it; and outside was the twilight of +advancing dawn. It was daylight! Sunday! She jumped out of bed in a flash +and pulled open the window. The trees were there still and the flowers +too and all the white of last night, but so pale, dim and colourless +beside the glittering brightness of a moment ago ... and never an angel! +She gave a sigh. The sky was hung with a thick grey shroud; and in the +east a long thin cleft had been torn in the grey; and behind that, deep +down, was a dull-golden glow, gleaming like a great brazen serpent. A +keen wind shook the cherry-blossom and blew a cold, fragrant air into the +window. All the green distance lay dead as yet, half-hidden, asleep in +the morning mist; and neither man nor beast was visible, nor even a +wreath of smoke from a chimney. + +What was the time? She threw a wrap over her shoulders, which were +getting chilled, and went carefully down the bedroom steps. It was still +dark in the kitchen. She groped, found and lit a sulphur match and lifted +the flame to the clock. Four! She was so much used to seeing the hands in +that position in the afternoon and they now looked so silly that she +stood for a long time thinking, foolishly, what she ought to do: call +mother or creep back into bed and sleep. She felt so uncomfortably cold +and it was still so dark: she went up again and stood looking out. + +The birds twittered in the trees and the wide cleft in the east yawned +wider and wider. Was it going to be a fine day after all? Everything for +which she had waited so long was there now and so strange, so totally +different from what she had imagined: instead of that leaping gladness +there was something like fear and nervous trembling; she could have wept; +and, merely for the sake of doing something, she went down on her knees +beside the bed and said the prayers which she had learnt by heart: + +“Lord God, I give Thee my heart. Deign to make Thyself a worthy dwelling +in it and to abide there all the days of my life....” + +The clock struck; it was half-past four and no one yet astir. + +Now she went downstairs again. In the room lay her white dress, her +wreath, her prayer-book: it was all ready; if only somebody would wake! +Dared she call? They lay sleeping side by side: father was snoring, with +his mouth open, and mother’s fat stomach and breasts rose and fell +steadily. + +“Mother!” + +Nobody heard. + +“Mother!!” + +And then she pulled at the coverlet and cried repeatedly, a little louder +each time: + +“Mother! Mother!! Mother!!!” + +That was better. Mother turned on her side, lifted her head and rubbed +her eyes with her hands. + +“Mother, it’s nearly five; we shall be late!” + +Mother, drunk with sleep, kept on looking at the window and yawning: + +“Yes, child, I’ll come at once.” + +She got up and came out in her short blue petticoat stretched round her +fat hips, with an open slit behind, and her loose jacket and wooden shoes +on. She lit the stove. Horieneke read her morning prayers. Mother’s heavy +shoes clattered over the floor outside and in again; she put on and took +off the iron pots with the goats’ food, drew fresh water and made the +coffee. + +Mam’selle Julie was coming along the rough road. + +“You’re in good time!” cried mother from the doorway. + +“Good-morning, Frazie. Up already, Horieneke? It’ll be a fine day +to-day.” + +She took off her hooded cloak, put on a clean apron and turned up her +sleeves. Horieneke was washed all over again while mother poured out the +coffee. Then they sat down. Horieneke kept her lips tight-closed so as +not to forget that she must remain fasting. She slowly pulled on her new +stockings and stretched out her hand to the bench on which the white +slippers lay. She took off her sleeping-jacket and her little skirt and +stood waiting in her shift. When the tongs were well warmed, Mam’selle +Julie seized the little paper twists in the hot iron and opened them out. +From each fold a curled tress came rolling down; and at last, combed out +and bound up with blue-silk ribbon, it all stood about her head in a +light mist of pale-gold silk, like a wreath of light around her bright, +fresh face. Her dirty shift was dragged off downwards and mother fetched +the new scapular and laid it over the child’s bare shoulders. The +first-communion chemise was of fine white linen and trimmed with crochet +lace. Julie took out the folds and drew it over Horieneke’s head. Then +came white petticoats, bodices and skirts. The child stood passively, in +the middle of the floor, with her arms wide apart to give free room to +Julie, who crept round on her knees, sticking in a pin here, smoothing a +crease there. Mother fetched the things as they were wanted. There was a +constant discussing, approving, asking if it wouldn’t meet or if it hung +too wide, all in a whisper, so as not to wake the boys. + +There came a scrabbling overhead and down the stairs; and, before any one +suspected it, Bertje stood dancing round Horieneke in his shirt. + +“Jesu-Maria! Oo, you rascal!” + +And the corset which mother held in her hand was sent flying up the +stairs after the boy, who in three jumps was gone and up above. The +others lay laughing in bed when Bertje told them that he had seen +Horieneke all in white, with a bunch of red-gold curls round her head, +and that mother had thrown something at him. + +The corset was laced up and Mam’selle Julie told the child to hold her +breath to let them get her body tighter. Now for the white frock: the +skirt was slipped down over her head until it stood out in light, stiff +pleats; the white bodice encased her body firmly and stuck out above the +shoulders, its puffed sleeves trimmed with little white-satin bows and +ribbons at every seam and fold. Over it hung the veil, which shrouded her +as in a white cloud. The wreath was put on, looked at from a distance and +put on again until it was right at last, with the glittering beads in +front, shining among the auburn curls, and the long streamer of threaded +lilies of the valley behind, nestling in the tresses on her back. The +white gloves, her prayer-book and candle-cloth, a few pennies in her bead +purse; and ‘twas done. + +The child was constantly twisted and turned and examined from every side. +She did not know herself in all her splendour: the Horieneke of +yesterday, in her blue bird’s-eye bib and black frock was a poor thing +compared with the present Horieneke, something far removed from this +white apparition, something quite forgotten. She stood stiff as a post in +the middle of the kitchen, without daring to look round or stir; she felt +so light and airy in those rustling folds and pleats and all that muslin +that she seemed not to touch the ground. She did not know what to do with +her arms, how to tread with her feet; and her thoughts were straying: the +part she had to play was all gone out of her head; she would be as fine +as this all day long, but oh, so uncomfortable! + +Mother put on stockings and shoes, donned her cap, turned her apron, +threw her cloak over her shoulders; she called her husband; then: + +“There, boys, we’re off; don’t forget your drop of holy water, all of +you!” + +The door fell back into the latch with a bang; and the three of them were +on the road. A gust of wind laden with white blossoms out of the orchard +greeted them. Horieneke held the tips of her veil closed against the wind +and stepped out like a little maid in a procession. The two women came +behind and had no eyes for anything but Horieneke: the fall of those +white folds, the whirling of the veil and the dancing of the lilies of +the valley in the auburn locks. They said nothing. + +The sky still hung grey with its yawning cleft widening in the east; and +out of it there beamed a sober, uncertain light, which fell upon +everything with a dead gleam: it was like noonday in winter. Over the +fields and in the trees drifted thin wisps of mist, like floating blue +veils blown on by the wind. Below in the meadow the cock had started +crowing amid his flock of peacefully pecking pullets. It was very fresh, +rather cold indeed, out on the high road. + +All the little paths led to the church; and in every direction, along the +flat fields, came people in their very best, with little white maids. The +wind played in their white veils and set them waving and flapping like +wet flags. + +“The children’ll have good weather,” said Mam’selle Julie; and, a little +later, to Horieneke, “What are you going to ask of Our Lord now, dear?” + +“Oh, so much, so much, Mam’selle Julie! I myself hardly know.... For +father and mother and all the family and that I may always be a good girl +and stay at home with them and not fall among wicked people and that we +may all live a long time and go to Heaven....” + +“And that the harvest may succeed and we be able to pay the rent ... and +for the farmer ... and that father may keep in health and be fit to +work,” mother ordered. + +They reached the village. Mother remained waiting among the folk in the +street; Horieneke, with the other youngsters, went through the +school-gates where their wax tapers stood burning above the bunches of +gold flowers and leaves shining in the warm light. The children looked at +one another’s clothes, whispered in one another’s ears what theirs had +cost and wrangled as to which looked the prettiest. The boys vied with +one another in showing their bright pennies and their steel watch-chains. + +The procession filed out: first the acolytes, in scarlet, with gleaming +crucifix, brass candle-sticks and censer, followed by boys and girls +symbolically dressed, a lilting dance of flags and banners in brilliant +colours. Next came the priest, in a gorgeous vestment stiff with silk and +silver thread and gold tracery; and, in two rows, on either side of the +street, preceded by four little angels with gold wings, the +first-communicants, really such on this occasion, in their proper +clothes, with the great wax tapers in their white-gloved hands and a glow +in their faces and laughter in their eyes. All the people crowded after +them, through the street to the church. The bells rang out, the priest +sang with the sacristan and the whole procession triumphantly entered the +wide church-doors. There was a mighty stamping and pushing to get near +and to see the children sitting in straight rows on the front benches of +the nave. The girls settled in their clothes and the boys looked down at +their stiff, wide cloth breeches and their new shoes, or shoved their +fingers up their noses or into their tight collar-bands. The organ droned +out a mighty prelude; the priest, all in gold, stood at the altar; the +ceremony began; the people were silent and prayed over their +prayer-books. + +The sun appeared! And green and red and yellow shafts of light slanted +through the stained-glass panes and mingled with the blue +incense-wreaths. They made the corners of the brasswork shine and brought +smiles to the faces of the saints in their niches. A splash of gold fell +on the curly heads of the children, dark and fair; and tiny rays flashed +upon the gilt edges of their prayer-books. The congregation prayed +diligently and the full voices sang the joyful _Gloria in excelsis_ with +the organ. + +After the Gospel, the priest hung up his chasuble on the stand and +mounted the pulpit. After a noisy shifting of chairs and dragging of feet +and coughing, the people sat still, with their faces turned to the +priest. He began by reading out the notices in a snuffling tone: the +intentions of the masses for the ensuing week; the names of those about +to be married or lately deceased. Then he waited, cast his eyes over that +level multitude of raised heads, pulled up his white sleeves and turned +his face towards the children. His drawling voice wished them +_proficiat_. + +It was the first time in their lives that the youngsters saw that face +turned expressly towards them from a pulpit and also the first time that +they listened to the sermon with attention. They kept their eyes fixed on +the priest so as not to lose a word. The great day had arrived; a few +moments more and they would be completing the solemn task, they, small +children, the task that was denied to the pure angels in heaven. + +“And that work must be the foundation on which all your future life is +based. Your souls are now so clean, so pure, they are shining like clear +water and are quite spotless. For years we have taught and instructed and +prepared you in order to teach your virgin hearts, this day, now, in this +beautiful chapel, to receive that strengthening food, that miracle of +God’s love. Remember it always: this is the happiest day of your lives! +You are still innocent and about to receive the Bread that raises the +dead, cleanses sinners and purifies the fallen. You are still in your +first youth, without experience of life, and are already allowed to +approach the Holy Table and share the strengthening food that supports +men and women in the trials of life. This also is the propitious moment, +the mighty hour in which Our Lord can refuse you nothing that you ask +Him. So make use of it, ask Him much, ask Him everything: for your +parents and your masters, who have done so much for you, for your +pastors, your village and especially for yourselves, that He may keep you +from sin and continue to dwell in your hearts and allow you to grow up +into stout champions of the faith and of your religion. It is the +happiest day of your lives. You are here now, to-day, with your bright, +clear eyes, young and beautiful as angels; we have watched over you, +sheltered you against all that could have harmed or offended your +innocence, far from the corrupt world of whose existence you have not +even known. But to-morrow you will enter the wide world, with only your +weak flesh to fight against life’s dangers: depravity, falsehood, lies +and sin. Now life will begin for you, now for the first time will you be +called upon to fight, to show courage and to stand firm. How many of +those who once sat where you are now sitting and who were pure and +innocent as yourselves have now, alas, become lost sinners, Judases who +have rejected their God, devils as roaring lions going about seeking whom +they may devour! Be strong, listen to your good parents: it is to them +alone that you will have to listen henceforth....” + +He turned round to the other side and, continuing with the same rise and +fall in his voice, the same gestures of his thin right arm, with the +flowing white sleeve, and the same movement of his sharp profile high up +above the congregation, he began once more: + +“To you, fathers and mothers, I also wish a cordial _proficiat_; for you +also this is a glad and memorable day. How long is it not since you were +kneeling there! And yet that day always lingers in your memory. Since +that time you have been plunged into the world, have had to struggle and +have perhaps fallen and more than once have known your courage fail you. +Now your children are sitting there! For years you have left them to our +care and to-day we give them back to you, instructed, enriched and +supplied with all that they can need to pass onward. You receive them +this day from our hands pure and innocent as on the day of their baptism. +It is for you henceforth to preserve and to maintain that virtue and +purity in them; it is for you to bring up these children so that later +they may be exemplary Christians. See to it that your own conduct edifies +them: it is according to you and all your actions that they will order +their lives and take example. Admonish them in good season and chastise +them when necessary: ‘He that spareth the rod hateth his son,’ says the +Holy Ghost. And keep your eyes open, for God will ask an account of your +stewardship and will reward or punish you according as you have brought +them up well or ill. A good son, a virtuous daughter are the joy and the +comfort of their parents.” + +The congregation were greatly impressed. The mothers wept: the priest was +such a good, worthy old man, whom they had known all their lives; and +they liked hearing him say all those beautiful things: that reference to +their own childhood and to their youngsters, whom they now saw sitting +there so good and saintlike, waiting to receive Our Lord, brought the +tears to their eyes; and it did them good to feel their hearts throb, to +feel that lump in their throats; and they let the tears flow: after all, +it was from gladness. + +The organ played softly and the changing tones mingled with the blue +wreaths that ascended from the sanctuary in a fragrant cloud, lingering +over the congregation. The celebrant offered the bread and wine to Our +Father in Heaven. And all this took time; the children were tired by +their tense concentration; their prayers had all been said two and three +times over; and they were now vacantly waiting and longing, looking at +their clothes, at the stained-glass windows in the choir or St. Anne in +her crimson cloak, or counting the stars that were painted high up on the +stone ceiling. + +The altar-bell tinkled twice and thrice in succession; the _Sanctus_ was +sung; and after that the organ was silenced. A hush fell over the +congregation and all heads dropped, as though mown down, in deep +reverence: not one dared look up. The priest genuflected, the bell +sounded repeatedly and, amid that great hush, thrice three notes of the +great church-bell droned through the church and rang out over the distant +fields. Outside, it was all blue and sunshine and silence; everything was +bowed in anxious expectation; it was as though there were nothing erect +and alive in the world except that little church and that bell. In the +farthest houses in the village the mothers were now kneeling and beating +their breasts, with their thoughts on Our Lord. The God of Heaven and +Earth had descended and was filling all things with His awful presence. +Carefully, slowly, almost timidly came the _Adoro te_; and the people +little by little raised their heads and sighed, as though relieved and +still quite awed by what had happened or was going to happen. + +And now the ceremony began. After the _Agnus Dei_ and the three tinkles +of the bell at the _Domine, non sum dignus_, the four little angels came +with hands folded and heads bowed, with their gold-paper wings carefully +furled behind them, and walked reverently to the front of the church. +Horieneke stood up, took her great sheet of paper and, in her clear +voice, read out her piece so that all the congregation could hear, though +she stopped to find her words at times and faltered here and there +because her heart was beating so violently and she had such a catch in +her throat: + +“Then Thou wilt come to us, Almighty God! To us poor little sheep who, +hardly knowing what we did, have so often offended Thee. We are not +worthy to receive Thee, unless Thou say but the word that our souls may +be healed. And, as Thou hast ordained, we will, in fear and confidence, +approach Thee as poor little children approaching their kind Father. We +have nothing wherewith to repay the great love which Thou bearest us; we +are needy in all things; and all things must come from Thee. We are still +very young and have already gone astray, but we repent and are heartily +sorry to have caused Thee any grief. And, now that Thou art so +unspeakably good to us, we wish to be wholly loyal to Thee and to belong +to Thee with heart and soul; dispose of us henceforth as Thy servants and +we shall be filled with joy. Come then, O Jesus; our hearts pant with +longing, our souls are now prepared; we have begged Mary, our dear +Mother, our guardian angels and our blessed patron saints to make us +worthy habitations for Thy majesty.” + +The silence was so great that one could hear a leaf fall. The +congregation wriggled where they knelt to see and held their breaths, +full of expectation. The nun struck her key on the back of her chair. Two +little angels went, step by step, to the communion-bench and the first +row of boys and girls followed. The little ones now looked very serious. +They held their heads bowed and their hands clasped; and their faces +shone with heavenly light and silent inner happiness. Horieneke was now +like a white flower; her transparent little waxen face, her delicately +chiselled nose and closed pink lips looked so angelic under her sunny +curls and the white of her veil. The children approached the choir +silently and slowly: ‘twas as though they were floating. At the second +tap of the key, they knelt; one more ... and their hands were under the +lace communion-cloth. From the organ-loft the _Magnificat_ resounded. The +priest took the ciborium, gave the benediction and with stately tread +descended the altar-steps. In his slender fingers he held the Sacred +Host, that small white disk which stood out sharply above the silver +vessel against the rich violet of his chasuble. The children’s heads by +turn dropped backwards and fell upon their breasts, in ecstacy. The bells +rang out; the choristers shouted their hymn of praise; the priest +murmured: + +“_Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christ ..._” + +The key tapped; and the angels kept leading new rows to the Holy Table +and bringing the others away again. And the great work went on in solemn +silence amid all that jubilant music. The congregation were lifted up, +their hearts throbbed and their tears welled with happiness and +contentment. + +The last row had come back; and they were all now kneeling in adoration +when the head boy read out: + +“What shall we return Thee, O Lord, for what Thou hast done for us! But +now we were mute, prostrate in adoration, amazed and awed by Thy mighty +presence in our hearts, bowed down in the dust of our humility; now at +last we dare raise our heads and thank Thee. We beseech Thee that Thou +wilt continue to dwell in our hearts, to reign there and to pour forth +Thy mercies there abundantly. We are frail creatures; and, were it not +that Thou, in Thy compassion, dost uphold us, we should continually and +at every moment fall and succumb in the rude gusts of life. We put our +trust in Thee and we know that Thou wilt succour us and that we shall +enter the life everlasting. Amen.” + +It was over; and the congregation looked round impatiently to see how +they could get out of church quickest. Their tears were dried and their +thoughts were once more fixed on clothes, home, coffee and cakebread. +After the last sign of the cross, the men crowded outside; the mothers +sought their youngsters, kept them out of the crush for fear of accidents +and marched triumphantly through the two rows of sightseers that stood on +either side of the church-door. Now was the moment for showing-off, for +congratulation and admiration on every side, till the children did not +know which way to turn or what to say; and they were very hungry. All now +went with their friends to the tavern for a drop of Hollands; and from +there mother went home with two or three wives of the neighbourhood. + +Horieneke walked behind. She was all by herself and wrapped in +contemplation: that great miracle was now over, all of a sudden, and she +could hardly believe it. Instead of enjoying all the happiness for which +she had waited so long, her heart was full of distress and she felt +inclined to cry. She had been so uneasy in church, so shy and frightened: +there was the reading of that paper before all those people; and directly +after, amid all the confusion, Our Lord had come. Hastily and very +distractedly she had said her prayers, had spoken, asked and prayed and +then waited for the miracle, waiting for Our Lord, Who now, living in +her, would speak. And nothing had happened, nothing: she had done her +very best to listen amidst the bustle outside and around her ... and yet +nothing, nothing! Meanwhile she had raised her head to breathe ... and +the people were leaving and she had to go with them: it was finished! It +had all been so matter-of-fact, just like the communion-practice of +yesterday, when she had merely swallowed a morsel of bread. Her heart +beat in perplexity and she feared that she had made an unworthy +communion. + +The wind blew under her veil, which flew up in the air behind her. She +was so pure, so unspotted in all that white; and, cudgel her brains as +she would, she could not remember any fault or sin which she had omitted +to confess. Though Our Lord had not spoken to her, He had been there all +the same and she had not heard Him because of all that was happening +around her. She ought to have been alone there, in a silent church. Even +here, outside, by the trees, would have been better. + +The wives were asked in to coffee and they stood and waited for Horieneke +at the garden-gate. Indoors everything was anyhow: Fonske was going about +in his shirt, Bertje had one leg in his breeches and Dolfke sat on the +floor, playing with Trientje. Father had made coffee and stood with the +bottles and glasses ready, looking dumbfounded at his child, now that he +saw her for the first time in her white clothes. The boys crowded round +shyly; they no longer knew their sister in this great lady; they kept +hold of one another shyly, with their fingers in their mouths; they were +unable to speak a word. Mother threw off her cloak and began cutting +currant-bread and butter. Horieneke was made to take off her veil and +gloves and a towel was fastened under her chin. The wives and youngsters +sat down. First a drop to each; all drank to the health of the little +first-communicant; they touched glasses. Father poured out and Horieneke +had to drink too: she put the stuff to her lips, pulled a wry face and +pushed the glass away. The boys dipped and soaked the bread in their +coffee; and the wives started talking about their young days and about +clothes and the old ways and the fine weather and the fruit-crop. Mother +did nothing but cut fresh slices of bread-and-butter, which were snatched +away and gobbled up on every side. + +“Eat away!” said father. + +The hostess of “The Four Winds” had been unable to take her eyes off +Horieneke all through mass. + +“Damned pretty, like a little angel!” said Stiene Sagaer. + +“And a curly head of hair like a ball of gold! It made one’s mouth water! +And that wreath!” squealed the farmer’s wife from the Rent Farm. + +“Mam’selle Julie had a hand in it.” + +“And such pretty manners! Well, dear, Our Lord will be mighty pleased +with you.” + +“And how nicely she read that piece!” said Stiene. “My blood crept when I +heard it. Look here, Wanne Vandoorn was sitting beside me; and, you can +take my word, the good soul couldn’t control herself and we both cried +till we sobbed.” + +“I felt it too,” said mother. “Such things are cruel hearing. And the +priest....” + +“Ah, he knows how to talk, that holy man! He’s a pure soul.” + +“You’ll regret it all your days, Ivo, that you weren’t there to see it.” + +Father nodded and took another slice of bread-and-butter. + +“It’ll take me all the week to tell about it at home,” said the farmer’s +wife. + +The boys sat making fun among themselves of Stiene Sagaer’s crooked nose +and the squeaky voice of the farmer’s wife. When the wives had done +eating, they stood up and went. + +When they had gone some little way, they turned round again and cried +against the wind: + +“It’s going to be fine to-day, Ivo!” + +“And warm!” piped the farmer’s wife. “Beautiful weather!” + +They went down the sand-path, each wending her own way home. + +The boys were now dressed and father, stripped to the waist, went out to +wash his face under the trees at the pump. His freshly-ironed white shirt +was brought out and his shiny boots and his blue smock-frock and +black-silk cap. After much fuss and turning and seeking, he got ready and +the boys too. Mother was busy with the baby in the cradle; Horieneke was +showing her new holy pictures to Trientje; and Bertje and the other boys +had gone out to play in the road. The bells rang again, this time for +high mass. Many small things had still to be rummaged out, clothes to be +pinned and buttoned; and the boys, with their Sunday penny in their +pocket, marched up the wide road to high mass. + +The wind had dropped and the sun blazed in the clear blue of the sky, +which hung full of unravelled white cloud-threads, showing gold at the +edges. A gay light lay over all the young green; the huge fields were +full of waving corn, which swayed and bowed and straightened again, +shining in streaks as under clear, transparent water. The trees stood +turned to the sun, as though painted, so bright that from a distance one +saw all the leaves, finely drawn, gleaming against the shadows that lay +below. Here they stood in close hedges on either side of the road, trunk +after trunk, making a dark wall with a dense roof of leafage, which +presently opened out in a rift at the turn of the road, where four +tree-trunks stood out against the sky; and then the trees turned away to +the left and were drawn up in two new rows, which stretched out beside +the road right across the plain. Here and there a few other trees stood +lonely in the fields, gathered in small clumps, with the light playing +between them; and far away at the edge of the bright expanse, in a wealth +of mingled green, amid the tufted foliage with its changing hues and +shadows, the little pointed church showed above the uneven, red-tiled +roofs. It was all like a restful dream, made up of Sunday peace. Above +and around, all the air was sounding with the gay tripping music of the +three bells as they rang together: a laughing song in the glad sunshine, +summoning from afar the people who came from every side, clad in their +best. The boys, in their new red-brown, fustian breeches, standing stiff +with the tailor’s crease in them, and their thick, wide jackets and shiny +hats, held father’s hand or skipped round Horieneke, whom they could not +admire enough. In the village square they hid themselves and went to the +booth to see how they could best spend their pennies. + +The people stayed in the street, looking about, and did not go into the +church until the little bell tolled out its tinkling summons and the last +little maid had been looked at and had disappeared. Then the men knocked +out their pipes against the tips of their shoes and sauntered in through +the wide church-door. + +The incense still hung about the aisles and the sun sifted its golden +dust through the stained-glass windows right across the church. The +congregation stood crowded and crammed together behind their chairs, +looking at the gilt of the flowers and at the great mountain of votive +candles that were burning before the altar. The organ had all its pipes +wide open; and music streamed forth in great gusts that resounded in the +street outside. The priest sang and rough men’s voices chanted the +responses with the full power of their throats. And the high mass +proceeded slowly with its pomp of movement and song. The congregation +prayed from their books or, overcome by the heat, sat yawning or gazing +at the incense-wreaths or started nodding on their chairs. The saints +stood stock-still, smiling from their pedestals and proud in their high +day finery. When the singing ceased, one heard through the dreamy murmur +of the organ the spluttering of the burning candles and the clatter on +the brass dish of the sacristan making the collection. The priest once +more mounted the pulpit and, with the same gestures and action, delivered +the same admonitions as earlier in the morning. Again the people sat +listening and weeping; others slept. More organ-music and singing and +praying and the mass came to an end and the priest turned to the +congregation and gave the blessing. They streamed out of church in a +thick crowd and stood in the road again to see the youngsters pass. Then +all of them made their several ways to the taverns. The +first-communicants had to call on aunts and cousins and friends; and the +poorer children went to show their clothes and asked for pennies. + +Horieneke and father and the brothers went straight home to await the +visitors. Before they reached the door, they smelt the butter burning in +the pan, the roast and the vegetables. The stove roared softly; and on +the flat pipe stood earthen and iron pots and pans simmering and fretting +and sending up clouds of steam to the rafters. Amidst it all, mother +hurried to and fro in her heavy wooden shoes. Her body still waggled in +her wide jacket and blue petticoat. Her face shone with grease and +perspiration. She puffed and sighed in the intolerable heat. The blue +chequered cloth lay spread on the table; and all around were the plates +with the freshly tinned spoons and forks and little beer-glasses.[8] +Outside, the boys sat in the top of the walnut-tree, waiting and peering +for any one coming. Father had taken off his blue smock and turned up his +shirt-sleeves and now went to see to his birds. That was his great hobby +and his work on Sunday every week. All the walls were hung with cages: in +that big one were two canaries, pairing; in the next, a hen-canary +sitting on her eggs; and in a little wire castle lived a linnet and a +cock-canary and three speckled youngsters. The finches were in a long row +of darkened cages and moulting-boxes. When he put out his hands, the +whole pack started singing and whistling; they sprang and fluttered +against the bars and pecked at his fingers. He took the cages down one by +one, put them on the table and whistled and talked to his birds, cleaned +the trays and filled the troughs with fresh water and seed. The +canary-bird got a lump of white sugar and the linnet half an egg, because +of her young ones. Then he stood and watched them washing their beaks and +wings and splashing in the water, pecking at their troughs now full of +seed and at their sugar and cheerfully hopping on and off their perches. +Then, when they were all hung up again in their places on the wall, they +all started whistling together till the kitchen rang with it. The baby +screamed in its cradle. Trientje cried and mother stamped across the +floor in her heavy wooden shoes. + +[8] The West-Flemings brew a beer so extremely strong that it is + served in quite small glasses, not more than half the size of an + ordinary tumbler. + +“Hi, mates, I see something!” Fonske called from the walnut-tree. + +The boys stretched their necks and so did father: it was jogging along in +the distance, coming nearer and nearer. + +“Uncle Petrus and Aunt Stanse in the dog-cart!” + +They slithered out of the tree like cats and ran down the road as fast as +they could. The others now plainly heard the wheels rattling and saw the +great dogs tugging and leaping along as if possessed. High up in the car +sat uncle, with his tall hat on his round head, bolt upright in his +glossy black-broadcloth coat; and beside him broad-bodied Aunt Stanse, +with coloured ribbons fluttering round her cap and a glitter of beads +upon her breast. In between them sat Cousin Isidoor, half-hidden, waving +his handkerchief. They came nearer still, jolting up and down through the +streaks of shade and sunlight between the trees. Uncle Petrus flourished +his hand, pushed his hat back and urged the dogs on; aunt sat with her +face aflame and the drops of sweat on her chubby cheeks, laughing, with +her hands on her hips, because of the shaking of her fat stomach. The +dogs barked and leapt right and left at the boys. Petrus jumped nimbly +out of the cart, ran along the shafts and led the team with a stylish +turn out of the road, through the gate, into the little garden, where it +pulled up in front of the door. The dogs stood still, panting and lolling +out their tongues. Mother was there too and cried, “Welcome,” and took +Doorke under the armpits and lifted him out of the cart. Aunt began by +handing out baskets, parcels and bundles. Then, sticking out her fat +legs, in their white stockings, she climbed out of the cart and looked +round at the youngsters, who already stood hankering to know what was in +the basket. + +“Well, bless me, Frazie, I needn’t ask you how it goes with the chickens! +There’s a whole band of them and all sound and well: just look at them! +Oh, you fatty!” And she pinched Bertje’s red cheeks. “And you too, +Frazie.” + +“Look at the state I’m in!” said mother, sticking her hands under the +apron stretched tight across her fat stomach and looking down at her bare +legs. “Such a heap to do, no time to dress yet.” + +“You’re all right as you are, Frazie; you’ve no need to hide your legs +nor t’other either: you’ve a handsome allowance of both,” said Uncle +Petrus, chaffingly. “I’d like a drop of water for the dogs, though.” + +Father sent the bucket toppling down the well and turned the handle till +it rose filled. The dogs stuck their heads into the bucket and lapped and +gulped greedily. Cousin stood staring bashfully amid all those +peasant-lads and all that jollity, while Bertje, Fonske and the others +too did not come near, but stood looking at the little gentleman with his +fine clothes and his thin, peaky face; they trotted and turned, whispered +to one another, went outside and came back again, laughed and said +nothing. + +“But the first-communicant! Where’s Horieneke?” asked Stanse, suddenly. + +From the little green arbour, in between the trees, a golden curly-head +came peeping, followed by a little white body and little Trientje too, +holding a great bunch of yellow daffodils in her hand. Stanse stuck out +her arms in the air: + +“Oh, you little butterfly! Come along here, you’re as lovely as an +angel!” + +And she lifted Horieneke from among the flowers, right up to her beaded +breast, and pressed her thick lips to the child’s forehead with a +resounding smack. + +“Godmother, godmother,” whimpered Trientje. + +“Yes, you too, my duck!” + +And the child forthwith received two fat kisses on its little cheeks. + +The dogs were now unharnessed and father and Petrus had gone for a stroll +in the orchard. The boys stood crowding against the table, looking at +aunt undoing her parcels. In one were sweet biscuits, in another +brandy-balls, peppermints, pear-drops and toffy. All this was carefully +divided into little stacks and each child was given his share, with the +strict injunction not to eat any before noon. Fonske hid his in the +drawer, next to the canary-seed, Dolfke his in the cupboard and Bertje +shoved his portion into his pockets. It was not long before three or four +of them were fighting like thieves and robbers, while Stanse and Frazie +went to look at the baby, which lay sleeping quietly in the cradle. + +First one more drop of cherry-gin apiece and then to dinner. The soup +stood ready ladled out, steaming in the plates. Horieneke sat demurely in +the middle, next to Doorke, with uncle and aunt on either side and, lower +down, father and all the children: mother had to keep moving to and fro, +waiting on them, snatching a mouthful now and again betweenwhiles. When +every one was served and Trientje had stammered out her Our Father aloud, +father once more stood up, as the master of the house, and said: + +“You are all of you welcome and I wish you a good appetite.” + +The spoons began to clatter and the tongues to wag: uncle praised the +delicious leek-soup, so did aunt; and then came endless questions from +every side about the news of the district and all that had happened +during the last ten or twelve years, ever since Frazie had married and +left her home. + +The children sat staring with wide-open eyes, now at their plates, now at +aunt with her fat cheeks and her diamond cross that hung glittering at +the end of a gold chain on her enormous breast; they counted the rings +that were spitted on her fingers right up to the knuckles; they gazed at +her earrings.... As the soup went down, the faces began to shine and +mother pulled at her jacket and complained of the dreadful heat. Father +pushed up the window and opened the back-door. The wind and the scented +air, with pollen from the cherry-trees, now blew across the table and +played refreshingly in their necks and ears. Mother kept on running about +and serving: it was hot carrots now and boiled beef. Father took the +flowered milk-jug and filled the little tumblers with beer. Slices of +meat and fat were cut off with the big carving-knife and distributed; +each received his plateful of glistening carrots; and the forks went +bravely to work. After that, the great iron pot was set on the table, +with the rabbits, which, roasted brown, lay outstretched in the +appetizing, simmering gravy that smelt so good; and beside it a dish of +steaming potatoes. The little tumblers were emptied and filled again; in +between the loud talking you could hear the crunching of the teeth and +the cracking of the bones; the children sat smeared to their eyes and +picked the food in their plates with their hands. Uncle’s eyes began to +twinkle and he started making jokes, so much so that aunt had every +moment to stop eating for laughing; then her broad head would fall +backwards and her cheeks, which bloomed like ripe peaches, creased up and +displayed two rows of gleaming ivory teeth. It all turned to a noisy +giggling; and the general merriment could be heard far away in the other +houses. + +Uncle Petrus enjoyed teasing his sister and made her cry out each time he +declared that, for all her waiting at table and running about, she had +eaten more than he and Brother Ivo put together and that it was no wonder +she had grown such a body and bred such fine youngsters. The mighty din +woke the baby and started it crying loudly in its cradle. Fonske took it +out and put it in mother’s lap. It was as fresh and pink as a rose-bud; +it kicked its little legs about and shoved its fists into its eyes. + +“Yes, darling, you’re hungry too, I expect.” + +And she unbuttoned her jacket and from behind her shift produced her +great right breast. The baby stuck its hands into that wealth of +whiteness, seized the proffered nipple in its mouth and started greedily +sucking. After the first eager gulps it gradually quieted, closed its +eyes and lay softly drinking, rocked on mother’s heaving lap. Isidoorke +kept looking at this as at something very strange that alarmed him. +Horieneke, noticing it, held up a rabbit-leg to him and told him of those +pretty white rabbits which she had seen slaughtered yesterday. The other +youngsters had now eaten their fill and began to feel terribly bored at +table. Bertje gave Fonske a kick on the shin and they went outside +together, whispering like boys with some roguery in view. Wartje, Dolfke +and the others followed them outside. When it was all well planned, they +beckoned behind the door to Doorke; and, when the little man came out at +last: + +“Is it true, Doorke? Do you dare go among the dogs?” + +And they led him on gently by his velvet jacket, behind the house to the +bake-house, where the dogs lay blinking in the shade, with their heads +stretched on their paws. + +Doorke nodded; and, to show how well-behaved they were, he went close up +to them and stroked their backs. + +“And is it also true,” asked Bertje, with mischievous innocence, “that +you know how to harness them?” + +Doorke looked surprised and again nodded yes. + +“Let’s see if you dare!” + +“Hoo, hoo, Baron!” said Doorke. + +And he took the dog by the collar, put the girths on him and fastened the +traces while Fonske held up the cart. + +“And that other one too?” + +Doorke did the same with the other dog and with the third; and they were +now all three harnessed. Bertje took the cart by the shafts and drew it +very softly, without a sound, under the windows and through the little +gate into the road. The other boys bit their fingers, held their breaths +and followed on tip-toe. Then they all crept into the cart; and, when +they were comfortably seated, Bertje took the reins and: + +“Gee up!” + +Wartje struck the dogs with the handle of the whip and they leapt forward +lustily and the cart rolled along through the clouds of dust rising from +the sandy road. + +Horieneke had come up too and watched this silent sport; and she now +stood alone with Doorke, looking along the trees, where the cart was +disappearing towards the edge of the wood. When there was nothing more to +see, they both went indoors. + +Uncle and aunt and father were now talking quietly and earnestly, over +three cups of coffee. Mother still sat with the baby on her lap, where it +had fallen asleep while sucking. Aunt was constantly wiping the +glistening perspiration from her forehead; and she unbuttoned her silk +dress because she had eaten too much and her heart was beginning to +swell. + +“Shouldn’t we be better out of doors?” she asked. + +Mother tucked in her breast, buttoned her jacket and laid the child +carefully in the cradle, near Trientje, who sat sleeping in her little +baby-chair. They left everything as it was: table and plates and pots and +glasses. Father and uncle filled their pipes and went outside under the +elder-tree, in the shade. The wives tucked their clothes between their +legs and lay down in the grass. Aunt had carefully rolled up her silk +skirt and was in her white petticoat. + +They now went on talking: an incessant tattle about getting children and +bringing them up, about housekeeping and about land and sand and parish +news, until, overcome by the heat and the weight of their bodies, they +let their heads fall and closed their eyes and seemed to sleep. Uncle and +father stood looking at them a little longer and then, in their white +shirt-sleeves, with their thumbs in their tight trouser-bands, went up +the narrow little path, in the blazing sun, to look at the wheat and the +flax, which were already high. + +Horieneke and Doorke were now left looking at each other. Horieneke began +to tire of this; and she took the boy by the hand and led him into the +house and up to her room. There she showed him her holy pictures on the +wall and her little statues; they sat down side by side on the bed; and +Horieneke told him the whole of her life and the doings of the last few +days, all that she had longed for and to-day’s happiness. The boy +listened to her gladly; he looked at her with his big, brown eyes and sat +still closer to her on the bed. He had now to see her pretty clothes; and +they went together to the best bedroom where the veil lay and the wreath +and her prayer-book and earrings. She must next really show him what she +had looked like that morning in church; and he helped her put on the +veil, placed the wreath on her curls and then took a few steps backwards +to see. He thought her very pretty; and they smiled happily. Then +everything was taken off again; and they went hand in hand, like a +brother and sister who had not seen each other for some time, to walk in +the little flower-garden. Here they looked at every leaf and named every +flower that was about to open. When everything had been thoroughly +inspected, they sat and chatted in the box arbour, very seriously, like +grown-up people. Then they also became tired and Horieneke put her arm +over Doorke’s shoulder, allowed her golden curls to play in his eyes and +in this way they walked out, down the road, towards the wood. Here they +were all alone with the birds twittering in the trees and the crickets +chirping in the grass beside the ditch. + +Everywhere, as far as they could see, was corn and green fields and +sunshine and stillness. They strolled down the long, cheerful road. +Doorke held his arm round Horieneke’s tight-laced little waist and +listened to all the new things which his cousin described so prettily; +and she too felt a great delight in having this boy, with his brown eyes +and his lean shoulder-blades, beside her, listening to her and looking at +her and understanding her ever so much better than her rough little +brothers did. She would have liked to walk on all her life like this, in +that golden sunshine, telling him how she had read that beautiful prayer +in church this morning ... and about the priest’s sermon ... and those +pretty angels with their gold wings, who had walked up and down so calmly +and placidly; about her dread during the communion-mass and her fear and +sorrow because Our Lord had not spoken in her little heart. And so, +talking and listening, they came to the wood. It looked so pleasant under +those pollard alders in the shade and farther on in the dark, among the +spruces, where the light filtered through in meagre rays, after that long +walk in the blinding sun. + +“Let’s go in!” said Doorke and was on the point of going down the little +path that ran beside the ditch, in among the trees. + +“We mustn’t!” said Horieneke; and she clutched him by the arm. + +Her face grew very serious and she wrinkled her forehead: + +“Look there!” + +And she pointed through a gap between the trees down to the valley where, +above the tall trunks, they could see the whole expanse of a big +homestead, with the long thatched roofs of stable and barn and the tiles +and slates of the house and turrets. She put her mouth to his ear and +whispered: + +“That’s where the rent-farmer lives ... and he’s a bad, bad man. He does +wicked things to the little girls who go into the wood; and mother says +that then they fall ill and die and then they go to Hell!” + +Doorke did not understand very well, but he saw from Horieneke’s +wide-open eyes that it was serious. They sat down together on the edge of +the ditch, with their legs in the grass, played with the daisies and +listened to the thrushes gurgling deep down in the wood. They sat there +for a long time. The sun sank to the top of the oak; the sky was flecked +with white clouds which shot through the heavens in long diverging +shafts, like a huge peacock’s tail upon an orange field. + +The children mused: + +“I should like to fall down dead, here and now,” said Horieneke. + +Doorke looked up in surprise: + +“Why, Horieneke?” + +“Then I should be in Heaven at once.” + +They again sat thinking a little: + +“Playing with the angels!... Have you ever seen angels, Doorke?” + +“Yes, in the procession, Horieneke.” + +“Ah, but I mean live ones! I saw some last night, live ones; and they +were in white, Doorke, with long trains and golden hair and diamond +crowns, and they were singing in a beautiful garden!...” + +With raised eyebrows and earnest gestures of her little forefinger, she +told him all her dream of the angels and the swings and the singing and +the music ... and of father with his sickle. + +Doorke hung upon her words. + +The thrush started anew and they sat listening. + +“What will you do when you grow up, Doorke?” + +And she put her arm round the boy’s neck again and looked fondly into his +eyes: + +“Will you get married, Doorke?” + +Doorke shook his head. + +“Not even to me?” + +And she looked at him with such a roguish smile that the boy felt +ashamed. Then, to comfort him, she said: + +“Nor I either, Doorke. Do you know what I’m going to do?” + +“No, Horieneke.” + +“Listen, Doorke, I’ll tell you all about it, but promise on your soul not +to tell anybody: Bertje, Fonske and all the rest mustn’t know.” + +Doorke nodded. + +“Father wanted me to go into service down there, with all those wicked +people. Then I cried for days and days and prayed to Our Lord; and mother +told father that I was dying; and then she said that I might ... Try and +guess, Doorke!” + +Doorke made no attempt to guess. Then she drew him closer to her and +whispered: + +“Mother said I might stay at home and help her ... and afterwards, when I +am grown up ... I shall become a nun, Doorke, in a convent; but first +mother must get another baby, a new Horieneke.... And you?” + +The boy didn’t know. + +“And you, Doorke, must learn to be a priest; then you and I will both go +to Heaven.” + +Behind them, on the road, came a noise and a rush and an outcry so great +that the children started up in fright. Look! It was Bertje and all the +little brothers in the dog-cart, which was coming back home through the +sand. When they saw cousin and Horieneke, they raised a mighty shout of +joy and stopped. Bertje stood erect and issued his commands: all the boys +must get out; he would remain sitting on the front seat, with Horieneke +and Doorke side by side behind him, between two leafy branches, like a +bride and bridegroom! Fonske cut two branches from an alder-tree and +fastened them to either side of the cart. Then they set out, amid the +shouting and cheering of the boys running in front and behind: + +“Ready?” + +“Ye-e-es!” + +The dogs gave an angry jerk forward and the cart went terribly fast and +Doorke clutched Horieneke with one hand and with the other warded off the +hanging willow-twigs that lashed their faces. + +The sun had gone down and a red light was glowing in the west, high up in +the tender blue. The air had turned cooler and a cold, clammy damp was +falling over the fields, which now lay steaming deadly still in the +rising mist that already shrouded the trees in blue and darkened the +distances. + +At the turn of the road, the children stepped out of the cart and put it +away carefully behind the bake-house, tied up the panting dogs and +sauntered into the house. + +“Father, we’ve been out with cousin,” said Bertje. + +They had to take their coffee and their cakebread-and-butter in a hurry: +it was time to put the dogs in, said uncle. + +Doorke said they were put in. + +Frazie helped her sister on with her things: + +“You’ll find the looking-glass hanging in the window, Stanse. I must go +and put on another skirt too and come a bit of the way with you.” + +The boys were to stay at home; they got the rest of the sweets and were +ordered to bed at once. Horieneke was told to take off her best clothes; +it was evening and the goats had still to be fed. She went to her little +room reluctantly and could have cried because it was all over now and +because it was so melancholy in the dark. She felt ashamed when she came +down again and glanced askance at Doorke, who would think her so plain in +her week-day clothes. The boy looked at her and said nothing; then he +jumped into the cart and drove off slowly. Mother with Stanse and father +with uncle came walking behind. + +It was still light; the evening was falling slowly, slowly, as though the +daylight would never end. In the west the sky was hung with white and +gold tapestry against an orange background. On the other side, the moon, +very wan still, floated in the pale-blue all around it. Beside the bluey +trees long purple stripes of shadow now lay, with fallen clusters of +branches, on the plain. You could hardly tell if day or night were at +hand. + +Uncle and aunt were extremely pleased with their visit; uncle looked +contentedly into the distance and boasted that he had never seen such an +evening nor such fine weather so early in the year, while Frazie at each +step flung her arms into the air and stopped to say things to Stanse, +whose good-natured laugh rang out over the plain and along the road. In +front of them, Doorke, like a little black shadow, danced up and down in +his cart to the jolting of the wheels as he jogged quietly along. The +crickets chirped in the ditch; and from high up in the trees came the +dying twitter of birds about to go to sleep. + +Father wanted to drink a parting glass of beer in the Swan; Doorke could +drive along slowly. + +“Just five minutes then,” said Petrus. + +There were many people in the inn and much loud merriment. The new +arrivals were soon sitting among the others, staying on and listening to +all the jolly songs; and, when this had gone on for some time, they +forgot the hour and the parting. Aunt Stanse held her stomach with +laughing; she was not behindhand when the glasses had to be emptied or +when her turn came to sing a song. Amid the turmoil, the rent-farmer came +up to Frazie, took her impudently by the arm, laughingly wished her +_proficiat_ with her pretty daughter and, after slyly looking about him +for confirmation, said, half in earnest: + +“We’re planting potatoes to-morrow at the Rent Farm, we shall want lots +of hands; missie may as well come too.” + +And with that he went back to his game of cards. + +This time, the leave-taking was genuine. Petrus got up; and it was +good-bye till next year, when Doorke would make his first communion. + +The cart was waiting outside the door; they stepped in, uncle took the +reins. + +“A safe ride home!” + +“Thanks for the pleasant visit! And to our next merry meeting!” + +“God speed!... Good-night!” + +“Gee up!” + +The dogs sprang forward, the cart rumbled along and soon the whole thing +had become a shapeless black patch among the black trees. In the still +night they could just hear the wheels rattling over the cobbles; and then +Ivo and Frazie went home again. + +A breeze came playing through the garden, sighing now and again with a +sound as soft as silk; the moon shone upon the dark trees and its light +played like golden snow-flakes dancing and fluttering down upon the +gleaming crests of the green bushes and the milk-white plain. The air was +heavy and stifling, full of warm damp; and strong-scented gusts of fresh, +rain-laden perfumes blew across the road. + +They stepped hurriedly on the legs of their long shadows and did not +speak. There came a new rustling in the trees and a few big, cool drops +of rain pattered on the sand, one here, one there and gradually quicker. + +Ivo and Frazie hastened their pace; but, when the great drops began to +fall on them thick as hail and around them in the sand, till the rain +streaked through the air and rattled tremendously over their heads, +mother held her body with both hands to prevent its shaking, Ivo tied his +red handkerchief over his silk cap and they started running. + +“It was main hot for the time of year.” + +“And the flowers smelt too strong and the thrush sang so loud.” + +It went on raining: a wholesome, cleansing downpour, a slow descent in +slanting lines that glittered in the moonlight, bringing health to the +earth. The air was fragrant with the wet grass and the white flowers: it +was like a rich garden. At home, everything was put away, the table +cleared and wiped; the lamp was alight and all the doors open. The boys +were in bed. Horieneke had read evening prayers to them and then hurried +to her little room, to be alone; and there she had lain thinking of all +that had happened during that long day: her jaws ached from the constant +smiling; and she felt dead-tired and sad. + +Father took off his wet blouse and mother stirred up the fire: they would +have one more cup of coffee, with a drop of something, and then go to +bed. Ivo lit his pipe and stretched out his legs to dry beside the stove. + +They drank their coffee and listened to the steady breathing of the boys +and the dripping of the gutters on the cobbles outside. Father made a +remark or two about uncle and aunt and about their village, but got only +half-answers from his wife. Then, all of a sudden, he asked: + +“What did the farmer come and say to you?” + +Frazie sighed: + +“They’re planting potatoes to-morrow and we were to go and work; and +Horieneke was to come too.” + +“Ay.” + +“But she’ll stay here!” + +“What do you mean, stay here?” + +“Yes, she’s got her work to do at home.” + +“All right; but if she has to go?” + +“Don’t care.” + +And mother stood with her arms akimbo, looking at her husband, waiting +for his answer. + +“And if he turns us out and leaves us without work!” + +“And suppose our child comes home with a present ... from that beast of a +farmer!” + +Ivo knocked out his pipe: + +“Pooh, that could happen to her anywhere; and, after all, she won’t be +tied to her mother’s apron-strings all her life long!... When you live in +a man’s house and eat his bread, you’ve got to work for it and do his +will: the master is the master. Come, let’s go to bed; we’ve a lot to do +tomorrow.” + +Suppressed sobs came from the little bedroom. Mother looked in. Horieneke +lay with her hands before her eyes, crying convulsively. + +“Well, what’s the matter?” + +The child pressed her head to the wall and wept harder than ever. + +“Come along, wife, damn it! It’s time that all this foolery was over, or +she’ll lose her senses altogether.” + +Mother grew impatient, bit her teeth: + +“Oh, you blessed cry-baby!” + +And angrily she thumped the child on the hip with her clenched fist and +left her lying there. + +“A nice thing, getting children: one’d rather bring up puppies any day!” + +She turned out the light and it was now dark and still; outside, the thin +rain dripped and the white blossoms blew from the trees and the whole air +smelt wonderfully good. In the distance, the nightingale hidden in the +wood jugged and gurgled without stopping; and it was like the pealing of +a church-organ all night long. + + + +The weather had broken up and the day dawned with a melancholy drizzle +and a cold wind. The sky remained grey, discharging misty raindrops which +soaked into everything and hung trembling like strung pearls on the +leaves of the beech-hedge and on the grass and on the cornstalks in the +fields. It was suddenly winter again. On the hilly field the people stood +black, wrapped up, with their caps drawn over their ears and their red +handkerchiefs round their necks. The hoes went up in the air one after +the other and struck the moist earth, which opened into straight furrows +from one end to the other of the field. Here wives walked barefoot, bent, +with baskets on their arm from which they kept taking potatoes and laying +them, at a foot’s distance, in the open trench. In a corner of the field +stood the farmer, his big body leaning on a stick; and his dark eyes +watched his labourers. + +There, in the midst of them, was Horieneke, bent also like the others, in +her coarse workaday clothes, with a basket of seed-potatoes on her arm; +and her red-gold curls now hung, like long corkscrews, wet against her +face; and every now and then she would draw herself up, tossing her head +back to keep them out of her eyes. + + + + +VI. IN THE SQUALL + +At noon, under the blazing sun, all three started for the wood, after +blackberries. + +Trientje was in her cotton pinafore, with a straw hat on her head and a +wicker basket on her arm. Lowietje stood in his worn breeches and his +torn shirt; in his pocket he had a new climbing-cord. Each dragged +Poentje by one hand, Poentje who still went about in his little shirt +and, with his wide-straddling little bare legs, trotted on between +brother and sister. + +They went along narrow, winding foot-paths, between the cornfields, high +as a man, through the flax-meadows and the yellow blinking +mustard-flower. The sun bit into Lowietje’s bare head and sent the sweat +trickling down his cheeks. + +They went always on, with their eyes fixed upon that thick crowd of blue +trees full of blithe green and of dark depths behind the farthermost +trunks. + +Poentje became tired and let himself be dragged along by his hands. When +he began to cry, they sat down in the ditch beside the corn to rest. +Trientje opened her basket and they ate up all their bread-and-butter. +Near them, in the grass, ants crept in and out of a little hole. Lowietje +poked with a stick and the whole nest came crawling out. The children sat +looking to see all those beasties swarm about and run away with their +eggs. + +All three stood up and went past the old mill, then through the meadow +and so, at last, they came to the wood and into the cool shade. On the +banks of the deep, hollowed path, it all stood thick as hail and black +with the brambleberries. Lowietje picked, never stopped picking, and put +them one by one in his mouth; and his nose and cheeks were smeared with +red, like blood. Trientje steadily picked her whole basket full and +Poentje sat playing on the way-side grass with a bunch of cornflowers. + +In the wood, everything was still: the trees stood firmly in the blaze of +the sun and the young leaves hung gleaming, without stirring. A bird sat +very deep down whistling and its song rang out as in a great church. +Turtle-doves cooed far away. Round the children’s ears hummed big fat +bees, buzzing from flower to flower. When the bank was stripped, they +went deeper into the wood, Lowietje going ahead to show the way. They +crept through the trees where it twilighted and where the sun played so +prettily with little golden arrows in the leafage; from there they came +into the high pine-wood. Look, look! There were other boys ... and they +knew where birds lived! + +“Listen, Trientje,” said Lowietje. “You stay here with Poentje: I’ll come +back at once and bring your pinafore full of birds’ eggs ... and young +ones.” + +He fetched out his climbing-cord and, in a flash, all the boys were gone, +behind the trees. Trientje heard them shout and yell and, a little later, +she saw her little brother sitting high up on the slippery trunk of a +beech. She put her hands to her mouth and screamed: + +“Lo--wie!...” + +It echoed three or four times over the low shoots and against the tall +trees, but Lowietje did not hear. + +A man now came striding down the path; he carried a gun on his shoulder. +The boys had only just seen him and, on every side, they came scrambling +out of the tree-tops, slid down the trunks and darted into the underwood. +Breathless, bewildered and scared to death, Lowietje came to his sister +and, with his two hands, held the rents of his trousers together: + +“There were eight eggs there, Trientje, but the keeper came and, in the +sliding, my trousers....” + +And he let a strip fall. They were torn from end to end, from top to +bottom, in each leg. + +“Mother will be angry,” said Trientje, very earnestly. + +She took some pins from her frock and fastened the tears, so that the +skin did not show. + +Suddenly fell a rumbling thunder-clap that droned through all the wood +and died away in a long chain of rough sounds. The children looked at one +another and then at the trees and the sky. All stood black now, the sun +was gone and a warm wind came working through the boughs, by gusts. It +grew dark as night and at times most terribly silent. + +And now--they all crossed themselves--a ball of fire flew through the sky +and it cracked and broke and it tore all that was in the wood. The wind +came up, the branches rocked and writhed and the leaves fluttered and +tugged and heavy drops beat into the sand. + +“Quick, quick!” said Trientje. “It’s going to lighten!” + +Lowietje said nothing and Poentje cried. Each took the child by one hand +and they ran as fast as they could to get from under the trees. + +“Ooh! Ooh!” + +They dashed their hands before their eyes and stood still: a golden snake +twisted round a tree and all the wood was bright with fire and there came +a droning and a rumbling and a banging as of stones together and a +hundred thousand branches burst asunder. Shivering, not daring to look +up, they crossed themselves again and all three crept under the branches, +deep down in a ditch. Trientje tied her pinafore over the little one’s +face and they sat there huddled together, shuddering and peeping through +their fingers and saying loud Our Fathers. + +“You must not look, Lowietje: the lightning would strike you blind.” + +The trees wrung their heavy boughs and everything squeaked and rustled +terribly. The water rained and poured from the leafy vault on Trientje’s +straw hat, on Lowietje’s bare head and right through his little torn +shirt. And clap and clap of thunder fell; the sky opened and belched fire +like a hot oven. The children sat nestling into each other’s +arms--Poentje down under the other two--and only when it had kept still +for long did they all, trembling and terrified, dare to put out their +heads. + +“I wish we were home now!” sighed Lowietje. + +Once more the sky was all on fire and rumbling and breaking and crackling +till the earth quaked and shook. + +“O God, O God, help us get out of the wood and home to mother!” whined +Trientje. + +When they opened their eyes again, they saw below them, in the bottom, a +huge beech with a bough struck off and the white splinters bare, with +leaves awkwardly twisted right round: it stood there like a fellow with +one arm off. + +The rain now fell steadily in straight stripes; the noise grew fainter +and the sky broke open. + +Soaked through with the wet, the children came creeping out of the ditch +and now, holding their breaths, stood looking at that tree which was so +awesomely cleft and at that crippled bough which hung swinging over +space. The thunder still rumbled, but it was very far away, like heavy +waggons rattling over hard stones. Lowietje caught his little brother up +on his back and they made straight for the opening of the drove, where +they saw a clear sky. They must get out of the wood, away from those +trees where such fearful things happened and where it cracked so and +where it was so dark. + +Outside, the heaven hung full of gold-edged clouds and the sun drove its +bright darts through the sky. The rain fell in lovely gleaming drops and +all looked so new, so fresh and so strangely glad as after a fit of +weeping, when the glistening tears hang in laughing eyes. ‘Twas all so +peaceful here and ‘twas far behind them that the trees were twisted and +bent. Here and there flew birds; and the cuckoo sat calling in a +cornfield. Lowietje’s shirt was glued to his skin; his trousers hung +heavily from his limbs and his hair fell in dripping tresses, sticking +along his cheeks. The white spots on Trientje’s pinafore were run through +with the black; and wet cornstalks whipped her little thin skirt. Poentje +splashed with his naked little feet in the puddles and asked for mother. + +“We’re almost home, child,” said Trientje, to soothe him. + +They went through the wet grass and fragrant cornfields along the +slippery footpaths to a big road. + +Look, there, behind the turning, came mother: she had a sack-cloth over +her head and two umbrellas under her arm; she looked angry and ugly. + +“We shall get a beating,” sighed Lowietje. + + + + +VII. A PIPE OR NO PIPE + +He dropped his wheel-barrow, strode from between the shafts and went and +looked into the great window of the tobacco-shop. His eyes were all full, +as far as they could carry: an abundance and a splendour to dream about. +He came a step nearer and rested his two elbows on the stone window-sill, +to see more comfortably. + +Two stacks of motley cigar-boxes stood on either side and ran together at +the top into a rounded arch, from which hung long, long pipes, +cinnamon-wood pipes, as thick as your arm, with green strings to them and +huge, big bowls, artfully carved into the heads of the King, of hideous +niggers, or of pretty girls with beads for eyes. + +On thick, transparent glass slips lay whole files of meerschaum pipes, +furnished with clear curved-amber mouthpieces: fishes’ heads, +lobster-claws holding an eggshell, horses’ heads, cows’ hoofs; rich +cigar-holders of meerschaum, all over silver stars and gold bands. Heaps +and heaps and lots and lots of every kind, as far as he could see; and +all this was multiplied in two enormous mirrors, in which, yonder, far +back among all this smoking-gear, he saw his own face staring at him out +of his great, astonished eyes. + +He sighed. It was all so beautiful, so rich! And now if mother had only +got work! + +He went over it once more. Down below, in little plush-lined trays, lay +the small pipes, the boys’ stuff. They lay scattered higgledy-piggledy, +whole handfuls of them, crooked and straight, brown and black. His eyes +thieved round voluptuously in those trays and they read with eager +curiosity the neatly-written figures which informed the world how much +each pipe cost. + +Here, they were crooked, comical little things of black cocus-wood; +there, they were motley, speckled round bowls, like birds’ eggs, with +white stems; but they cost too much. And yet they were so charitably +beautiful! Now his eyes remained hankering after a splendid varnished +bowl. It was almost tucked out of sight, but it glittered so temptingly +and had a lovely brown ring at the edge, shading downwards to a pale +gold-yellow: there was a little cup for the oil to sweat into and a fat +cinnamon stem, with a horn mouthpiece. He examined it on every side and +would have liked to turn it over with his eyes. Inside the bowl stood, in +black figures: + +“1 _fr_. 50.” + +“Mother!...” + +That was the one he wanted, that was his. She had promised him a pipe if +she got work to-day. If only she had brought work with her! + +After one last look and one more ... he went on. + +He caught up his barrow and pushed it, over the wide road, straight to +the station. + +There he had to wait. + +He loitered round the dreary, deserted yard. The noon sun bit the naked +stones; and everything, hiding and shrinking from that glowing sun-fire, +seemed dead. The drivers sat slumbering on the boxes of their cabs; the +horses stood on three legs, their heads down, crookedwise between the +shafts, and now and then they gave a short stamp, to keep off the flies, +which were terribly active. A group of loafers lay sleeping on their +stomachs in the shade. A slow-moving vehicle drove past and disappeared +round the corner. A dog came stepping up lazily and went and lay under +the sunflowers near the signal-box, blinking his eyes. + +There was nothing more that moved. + +At last the train came gliding in very gently, without noise, and it sent +a gulp or two of white smoke into the quivering blue sky. + +Now the boy stood stretching his neck through the railings, on the +look-out for his mother, whom he already saw in his thoughts, coming +bent, with a heavily-laden bag of weaving-stuff; and the pipe was in his +pocket ... or else nothing, nothing at all! + +‘Twas a fat gentleman that got out first; then a tall, thin one; then a +woman; then another woman; always others; and now, now it was mother. She +stuck out her thin leg, groping from the high foot-board to find the +ground, and ... she had an empty blue-and-white canvas bag on her +shoulder. His lower lip dropped sadly and he turned slowly to his barrow: + +“No work yet. God better it!” + +The mother threw her bag on the wheel-barrow and they went on, without +speaking. + +Straight opposite the tobacco-shop, the boy gave a sidelong glance at the +great window, with all those rich things displayed behind it, and he +whistled a little tune. + +They had still far, very far to go, before they two were at home, in +their village. And the sun was burning. + + + + +VIII. ON SUNDAYS + +In his Sunday best! A red-and-yellow flowered scarf was tied round his +sun-burnt neck and the two ends blew over his shoulders; a small +brown-felt hat with a curly brim was drawn down upon his head and, from +under it, came here and there a wisp of flaxen hair. He wore a small, +open jacket, with a short waistcoat, from under which a clean blue shirt +bulged out; and his long, much too long trousers fell in wide folds over +his big cossack shoes.[9] Under his arm he carried a bundle knotted into +a red handkerchief, while with the other hand he twirled a switch. + +[9] Hob-nailed shoes fastened with straps. + +He was a growing youngster, a well-set-up cowherd, with a brown, freckled +face, small, pale-grey eyes, under milk-white eyebrows, and bony knees +and elbows: a sturdy fellow in the making. + +‘Twas heavenly, grand Sunday weather: it shone with light and life and it +was all green, pale, splendid green, against a clear blue sky in the +middle of the afternoon. + +He stepped on bravely, along the wide drove of elms, twisting his switch, +and looked into the free sky with his young, grey-blue eyes. He +thought ... of what? Of nothing! Truly, of nothing: what does a cowherd +think of? Wait a bit, though; he was thinking: ‘twas Sunday! It was +Sunday once more, the glad Sunday! And there were so few Sundays in those +long, long weeks. And he was going home for a few hours: yes, home; and +from there to Stafke’s and to Stafke’s pigeons. + +He was hard-worked at the farm: twenty-nine cow-beasts, which were always +hungry and always wanted fattening; furthermore, a whole herd of calves +and hogs: ‘twas a drudging without end or bottom, from early morning to +late at night, until his limbs hung lame. + +The farmer was good but strict and could not abide sluggards; he looked +for work, hard work; and this the lad was glad to give, but only while +looking forward to the everlasting Sunday, in which lay all his happiness +and cheer. + +He quickened his steps; and the elms pushed by, one by one, and at last, +ahead, very far down that dark hedge of stems and leafage, came a tiny +opening where the trees seemed to touch one another. + +Look! There, beside the little village church, stood Farmer Willems’ +homestead, with its little slate turret and the great poplars and, beside +it, close together and quite hidden in the green, two little cottages. +‘Twas there that he was brought up and had grown up; there, in one of +those cottages. In the other lived Stafke’s father and mother. The +children had led the half-wild life of the country there: two little boys +together. They had clambered up those mighty trees, weltered in the sand +of the drove and coursed like foals in the meadow. The farm was a free +domain to them; they were at home in it; they went daily to the little +door of the wash-house to fetch their slice of rye-bread-and-butter and, +in the morning, an apple or a pear. They had lain and rolled in the +hay-loft, like fish in the water; but all that had passed so quickly, so +very quickly. The parish-priest came; and, for six months, six long +months, they had had to go to school and church. Then, on a certain +Monday morning, father said: + +“Lad, you’re coming along to the farm to-day, to bind corn.” + +Play was over, the free play of the country! They were pressed into +labour, were saddled with the labourer’s heavy burden. Since then, it had +been an endless roving after work, from one farm to another, with his +bundle under his arm. + +Stafke had remained serving at Willems’, with father, and he, on Sunday +afternoons, had not so far to go, under the burning sun, in order to get +home. + +The way was long for an unthinking lad; and they seemed endless, those +never-changing rows of tree-trunks, those uncounted yellow, blinking +cornfields ... and never a creature on the road. It was something very +much out of the way when a pigeon flew through the azure sky; the lad +stood still and, turning round, followed the great ring which it made +until it dropped far away, yonder among the houses of the village. Then +he went on, pondering, as he went, that there was nothing, absolutely +nothing lovelier than a milk-white pigeon in a pale-blue sky; and he +whispered: + +“Perhaps it’s Stafke’s pigeon.” + +On reaching home, he laid down his bundle; his baby sister came running +up to him, with her little arms wide open, and held him by his legs; and +he lifted her twice, three times above his head. He handed mother his +earnings; and then, out of the door, to Stafke’s! + +“Roz’lie, is he in?” + +“Oh, yes, he’s up in the loft, with the pigeons.” + +He climbed up the ladder, in three steps and as carefully as he could, to +the dovecote. Behind a swarm of half-stretched and loose-hanging clouts +and canvas things, a lad sat on an overturned tub, his fair-haired curly +head in his hands, his elbows on his knees, peering through a sort of +lattice-work. Jaak sat down at the other side, on a bundle of maize, in +just the same attitude, and looked too.... + +There were white, snow-white, mottled, blue, slate-blue, russet, +speckled, grey, black-flecked, striped and spotted pigeons, doves, +pouters--some cocks, the rest hens--a motley crowd all mixed up together. +There were some that sat murmuring one to the other, softly--oh, so +softly--and nodding their heads for sheer kindliness. Others cooed +loudly, angrily or indifferently and tripped round one another. Others +sat huddled, meditating, lonely and forlorn, blinking their bright little +glittering eyes. + +Through the holes, from the resting-board, new ones came walking in with +shy feet and sought a little place for themselves; others passed out +through the narrow opening and, flapping their wings, rose into the sky. +‘Twas a humming and muttering without end, a murmuring and whispering +loud and soft and a restless stir and movement: a little world full of +neatly-dressed damsels, who were all so lightly, so prettily decked out +and who knew how to manage their trains and their fine clothes so +demurely and so comically. They carefully combed and cleaned their black +velvet ruffs, smoothed their sharp-striped feathers one by one, fondled +and rubbed their downy breasts till they shone like new-blown roses.... + +And Jaak and Stafke sat watching this, sat watching this, like two steel +statues, sweating in that warm loft. They did not stir nor speak a single +word. + +And that lasted and went on.... + +It grew dusk. From every side the pigeons came flying in, whole troops of +them, and sought their well-known roosts. They stood two and two, closely +crowded together on the perches or huddled in the holes. They drew their +heads into their feathered throats and slept. The rumour diminished to +just a soft mumbling; and then nothing more. The pigeon that sat over +there, squatting low on her eggs, faded from sight in her dark corner; +and the whole upper row vanished in the dusk of the rafters. + +The boys still sat on. + +The dovecote became a pale-grey twilight thing, with drab and black +patches here and there. The soft humming passed into a faint buzz that +died away quite; and all was silence. + +They both together stood up straight, gave a long-drawn sigh and went +below. + +“It’s getting dark,” said Jaak, wiping the sweat from his face. “The cows +will be waiting.” + +“Yes,” said Stafke. “It gets evening all at once. Well, Jaak, till +Sunday.” + +And Jaak went away, through the now moonlit drove, with a new bundle +under his arm and thinking of the farm, of his twenty-nine cow-beasts and +of Sunday and of Stafke’s pigeons.... + + + + _Il y a des malheurs qui arrivent + d’un pas si lent et si sûr qu’ils + paraissent faire partie de la vie + journalière._ + +MONTALEMBERT. + + + + +IX. AN ACCIDENT + +He had been half awake several times already, but each time he had +slipped back into an uneasy doze, a restless, wearisome sojourn in a +strange, drowsy world, in which he struggled with stupid, silly +dream-spectres, all jumbled together in a huddled mass of incoherent, +impossible thoughts and actions; a blank world in which all his workaday +doings were forgotten; an after-life of tiring sleep following on the +carouse of yesterday. He lay half-suffocated in the stifling heat of that +tiled garret, lay tossing on a straw mattress. And suddenly, with a jolt +that jerked him sleeping like a beast of burden. And now why couldn’t he +take life as it came, like his mates, who just went through it anyhow, +without any calculating, callously and cheerfully, something like a +machine which, when the sun comes out and it is daylight, begins to move +arms and legs, to twist and turn the whole day long and, when it is +evening again and dark, falls down and remains lying dead, for a few +hours, with all the other things? + +He drew himself up, thrust his thin legs into his trousers, his arms into +a dirty jacket and let his weary limbs carry him below. His mother had +buttoned up the linen satchel with his two slices of bread-and-butter and +had ladled out his porridge. He went out followed by a “God guard you, +lad!” and the little woman looked after her boy till he had vanished out +of the alley. She was so fond of him, he knew it; yes, he knew all about +that tender love, which he so often rejected in a moment of churlish +impatience; but still he was sorry afterwards, even though he never +showed it. That prim, old-fashioned little woman, with her cramped ways, +was his mother; his father had been a drunkard and had been killed at his +work: that was his parentage; it was their fault that he led this +poverty-stricken existence. + +He walked on, without looking up at all the swarming life around him, +went step by step over the slippery cobbles, straight to his work. His +work: why must he work, always that everlasting toiling, while others +lived and enjoyed their lives without doing anything? He too had once +thought--but it was only a dream--of becoming something; he had felt +something stirring just there, inside him, and that seed would have +sprouted and blossomed if they had only tended it; but they had +ruthlessly repelled him, had refused to take him up with them on the +heights; and he had remained in the mud, alone, all alone. + +There it rose before him: a mighty edifice in building, with behind it a +radiant summer sun that blazed forth high above the framework of the roof +in the morning sky and made that giant structure stand black in its own +shadow. + +That was his work. All that mass of bricks he had seen grow into the +mighty whole; and there it stood now, a huge block, with heavy, massive +outlines, contained--held upright, it seemed--by a jumble of dirty-white +stakes and posts, crossed and criss-crossed with planks. Out of a dirty +hodge-podge of crazy houses, walls black with smoke, little inner rooms +which for the first time saw the white light of day, with ragged strips +of wall-paper and whitewash among rotten beams and rafters straight and +askew, all of which his stubborn labour had made to fall and disappear, +and out of those deep-dug foundations, out of that drudging in the dirty +ground, those stout walls had grown stone by stone, had risen high into +the sky--oh, the hard work of it!--and, tapering by degrees, had shot up +to form that mighty building. Wall by wall, wrought at and toiled at, +held together by pillars running beside narrow pointed windows to those +peaked gable-steps, running into a forest of masts, of slanting beams +that had to bear the roof, the whole of that sprawling monster had +gradually acquired a sense and a meaning and become the splendid +masterpiece that now stood there, solidly fixed against the blue sky like +a magic crystallized phrase. + +That beginning all over again, day after day, at the same work; all that +busy stir of men and stones, now high in the air, now deep below; that +incessant climbing up and down those swaying ladders: all this had made +such a deep impression on him, had implanted itself into him so firmly +that at the first sight of it he felt smitten with impotence, with a +mechanical discouragement that gripped his whole being and made him work +throughout the day as though urged by an all-ruling deity set there in +the symbolic shape of that giant colossus at which he toiled. It seemed +to him that he was an indispensable little part of that great building, a +small moving thing with but a tiny atom of intelligence--sometimes--and +fatally dragged along in that whirling circle, under the behest of the +masters, who knew their way through every stroke and line of the great +plan, who had all that great work in their heads and on paper and who +possessed the power to bring all that complicated machine into operation. +And he just went to work like a dog, set going by the mournful knocking +of the stone-chopper, the shrill screech of the toothless iron marble-saw +and all the banging and knocking and hewing up yonder at the top of +things. He took his wooden hod, filled it with bricks and slowly climbed +the ladder. He was once more the dismal noodle of last week, the +hypnotized bag-o’-nerves that let himself be swept along in the whirlwind +of habit and vexation, dazed by that awful hugeness which he was helping +to complete and driven on by the ever-pursuing pair of eyes of his strict +foreman. And his head ached so; and he felt so sick; and his legs bent +under the load. + +On he had to go and on. His head no longer took part in the work; his +legs kept on going up and down the rungs with those bricks, those +everlasting bricks: he did not know how many, just hauled them up, +without stopping. + +It seemed to him sometimes that the whole mass of walls and scaffolding, +labourers and foremen made but a single being: a sort of fearsome deity, +something like an unwieldy monster with inhuman, cruel feelings, +something which had to be fed with all that workmen’s sweat; and all this +feverish activity seemed to him the whirling along of a crowd of +unfortunates who had stepped into the fatal circle marked out for them, +never to leave it again. Everything seemed so unsteady to-day: those +walls on which he had to walk tottered; and he took such a pleasure in +looking, in looking for a long time down below, yonder where the men and +women were like ants and the great blocks of freestone became little +bricks. It gave him such a delicious wriggling in the bowels, a tickling +in his blood; and he felt his hair tingling on his head. Was not this the +way to obtain release from that hard labour, to get out of that +brain-racking circle? + +Then he held on to a post until he recovered his senses; and he went down +again for more bricks. It came from all that beer. + +Yesterday had been a holiday. The wooden framework of the roof was +finished; and they had nailed the May-bough to the top, the joyous emblem +of difficulties vanquished. It showed up grandly there, with its bright +green leaves so high in the air. The masters had granted the men a day +off and given them plenty of beer. All that warm day they had made merry, +drinking and singing and loafing about the streets like happy savages. He +too had revelled with the rest, had been overcome by the drink and joined +in everything, from the horseplay in the open air to the bestial +amusements in those dark holes where the populace seeks its pleasure, +that stimulant for the work of the morrow. Then that brutal drunkenness +had come, with the loss of all his senses, till he found himself, +dog-tired, sick and feverish, up in his garret under the tiles. + +To-day the work was twice as irksome. That rising warmth which, in the +morning, while it is still cool, forebodes the stifling, paralysing heat +of the scorching noon-day, tortured his throat and his bowels; he +couldn’t go on. + +“Slacker!” was the first word flung at his head. He stood on the high +gable-steps and set down his load of bricks. That “Slacker!” played about +in his head like the smarting pain of a lash. He stood looking aimlessly +into space, indifferent to all that moved and lived around him. A shudder +ran through his body. The wall tottered ... and he was so high up, all +alone, seen by nobody: such a small creature in that blue sky, in that +endless space. In a clear vision he saw his own figure in all its lean +wretchedness, cut out like a paper silhouette, standing out sharply +against the sky, such a miserable little object: two thin legs, like +laths, a little stomach, two little sticks of arms and that small, +everyday, vulgar head. Was that he, that tiny atom of this mighty, +colossal building, that ant on the back of this behemoth ... which had +only to move to shake him off, ever so low down! + +Ah, here’s that delicious wriggling in the bowels again! He has looked +down. Once more. That’s capital: something like a feeling of wanting to +jump down, such an airy, irresponsible joy, like flying in a dense, blue +sky, falling very gently and slowly--oh, what fun!--and then being rid of +all one’s troubles!... And yet there was a certain fear about it. He +mustn’t look any more. Or just this once ... that was grand! Once more +that awful depth, with all those tiny figures, yawned below him; and it +was the little wall that kept him up there so high, only that little +wall.... One movement, the least little yielding, the least bending over: +oh, what bliss ... and how frightful!... He became drunk with delight, +filled with the pleasure of it; he gasped, his eyes became unseeing; it +was like being wafted along, a gentle flight through the air and ... he +fell. + +Bumping against a scaffold, clutching with hands and feet; a breaking +plank, a ghastly yell ... and then a body with arms and legs outspread in +space, a thunderbolt ... a thud as of a bag of earth ... and there he +lay, stretched at full length, like a man asleep. That scream of +distress, that terrible shriek, that farewell cry of one who is going +away for good had sent something like an electric shock through all +around; work ceased and they scrambled down and stood in a great circle +around that body ... looking. And a great silence followed, that silence +which is so heavy and oppressive after the sudden stop of so much +activity. People came rushing up, pushing to get closer ... and to see. +They tore the poor devil’s clothes open to find out where he was hurt, +others ran for help, while fresh swarms of folk came crowding up and the +silence died in an uproar of questions and tramping and the wailing of +women. He lay there, with his peaceful face turned to one side, lay on +his back, seemingly uninjured; a few drops of blood trickled from his +mouth. His eyes were closed like those of a man asleep. + +“Such a height to fall!... So young, only a boy!” + +Others stood chattering loudly, indifferently, as though about an +everyday occurrence, or looked up at the wall and showed one another from +where he had tumbled down. + +There was a sudden movement in the crowd; people jostled one another. + +“His mother’s coming!” somebody whispered. + +They pressed closer and closer to watch the effect upon her, the women +with an anguished consciousness of what she must be suffering, that +mother-pain which they understood so well. The men pushed to see what +happened, because everybody was looking. All eyes were fixed on the +little woman who came running along, with those elderly little hurried +steps, those two anxious eyes which showed all the dread of the tragedy +they suspected. The people made way respectfully, as before one who is +privileged to approach and look upon what is hers. Those who could not +move back she dragged away mercilessly, gripping them with her hooked +fingers, which she thrust out at every side in order to see closer. It +was her ... her ... her son lying there, her own son; and she must get to +him. + +She saw him. He lay there and he was dead, the son, the child whom she +had seen leaving that morning alive and well. She stood aghast, out of +breath after the great effort of hurrying, her throat pinched with +distress and sorrow and shock, her soul filled with all the pent-up +tempest that was seeking an outlet. Her flat chest heaved and all her +thin, frail little body quivered; her legs shook beneath her. Slowly and +painfully the sobs came welling up. + +The people waited in silence, more or less disappointed, saddened by all +that silent grief. Her eyes, the eyes of a mother, stared at the dead +body; and he did not look at her and he slept on and ... and he was +asleep for ever, gone for ever: he would never see her again! This last +cut into her soul; a shrill scream came from her throat, she flung her +lean brown hands together high above her head, wrung the crooked, gnarled +fingers convulsively and then, with her fists clenched in her lap, sank +impotently to her knees, with her head against his. + +“Oh, it’s such a pity, oh, it’s such a pity!” she moaned; and the words +contained all the awful depth of her woe, all the concentrated sorrow. +“Oh, it’s such a pity, such a pity!” she kept on repeating, finding no +other words to express her grief and lending them power by force of +repetition. + +He remained lying there ... and she remained kneeling; and all that crowd +of people stood silently looking on, startled and impressed by that +sacred, solemn mourning. And the impressive hush, the silence of all +those people, the desperate helplessness of those folk, she alone +suffering and crying and unable to help her child and the people +unwilling to help him: that impotence pierced her soul; and the patient +suffering changed into a frenzied madness, a raging fury. With a terrible +scream, like that of a goaded beast, a hoarse yell that came grating out +of her parched throat, she thrust her arms, stiff with pain, like two +steel rods, under the arms of that limp corpse and, with a superhuman +effort, with Herculean strength exalted by suffering, she lifted the +corpse, pressed it to her body, raised it with her outstretched arms and +dragged it, with its legs trailing behind it, hurrying along at a mad +pace, with the one idea of getting home with her child, her only child, +away, far away from that callous crowd which desecrated her sorrow: there +she would weep, sob out all her grief and find words, sweet words which +must throb through her child and wake him and bring him back to life! + +All that packed crowd had first followed her with their eyes, struck +by the sudden outburst of that mad rage; and then they had gone +after her, inquisitively. And it did not last long before the +police-constables--those phlegmatic posts with which any outbreak of +undue human emotion must always in the end collide--stopped them; they +pulled those bony arms from round the corpse and took the little mother, +now hanging slack and limp, one on either side by the arm and led her +away. The body was carried to the mortuary. + +With a resounding oath the foreman drove his folk back to work and set +all that rolling activity going once more. + +The passers-by hastened away; and the saw screeched, the chisel tapped, +the hammer banged, the bricks were hauled up on high and the gorgeous +building, the pride of a metropolis, stood resplendent in the glaring +white mid-day sun, as if nothing had happened. + + + + +X. WHITE LIFE + +Her life flowed on as a little brook flows under grass on a Sunday noon +in summer, flowed on in calm seclusion, far from the bustle of the crowd, +secretly, steadily, uninterrupted save by ever-recurring little +incidents, peacefully approaching old age. She sat in her little white +room, behind the muslin curtains, making lace. Her cottage stood a little +way back from the street, shining behind a neatly-raked flower-garden. + +The door was always shut and the curtains carefully drawn. Inside, +everything was very clean: smooth, bare walls and the ceiling washed with +milk-white chalk through which shone a soft touch of blue; and this +bright cleanliness contrasted soberly with the things that hung on the +wall. The chairs and furniture stood placed with care, as though nailed +to the floor; over the mantel hung the copper Christ, a thin, elongated +figure of Our Lord, with its sharp projections which shone when the sun +touched them: a little figure which, so long dead, hung there so firmly +nailed and looked so calmly from out of the small dark shadow-lines of +its face. + +The stove stood freshly blackened, with the waved white sand on its +polished pipe.[10] Over the door of the bedroom steps hung the glass case +with the waxen image of Our Lady, a girlish figure clad in broad white +folds, with bright-red, cherry cheeks, smiling sweetly upon a doll which +she carried in her arms. On the other wall was a glaring framed print, in +which a Child Jesus romped with curly-headed angels in a motley green +wood, with behind it a sunny perspective gleaming with paradisian +delights. + +[10] The Flemish stove is connected with the chimney by a flat pipe, + on which the plates and other utensils are heated. On Sundays, the + stove, the pipe and all are blacked and polished with black-lead and + turpentine; and it is an old custom of neat house-wives to powder the + stove-pipe with white sand from the dunes. The sand is allowed to run + through a little opening in the hand in a series of fine wavy lines, + forming a delicate pattern on the black pipe. + +From the ceiling, in a white cage, hung the canary, which hopped from one +perch to the other, all day long, without ever singing. On the +window-seat, behind the little curtains, blossomed tall geraniums and +phlox, which, through the mesh of the muslin curtains, sent a blissful +fragrance through the room. + +Life went its monotonous gait, measured by the slow tick of the hanging +clock, that big, stupid, laughing face which so pitilessly turned its two +unequal fingers round and round. Outside, close by, went the steel blows +of the smith’s hammer or the biting file that grated against her wall. + +The sun that laughed so pleasantly through the windows and came and put +all those things in a white gleaming light beamed right through into her +little white soul: it was yet like that of a child, had remained +innocent, never been soiled or troubled; and, now that the bad storm-time +was over, it lay still in the passionless restfulness of waning life, +quite taken up with all manner of harmless occupations, devotions and +acquired ways of an old, god-fearing woman-person. Her face, which was +wreathed in a round white goffered cap, had the smooth, yellow, waxen +pallor of the statue of Our Lady, in church, and her features the severe, +sober kindliness of nuns’. She was dressed in modest, stiffly-falling +folds of unrumpled lilac silk, like the queens in old prints. + +She spent those long, quiet days at her lace-pillow. That was her only +amusement, her treasure: this half-rounded arch of smooth, blue paper on +the wooden pillow-stool, occupied by a swarm of copper pins, with +coloured-glass heads, and of finely-turned wooden bobbins, with slender +necks and notched bodies, hanging side by side from fine white threads or +heaped up behind a steel bodkin. All this array of pins, holes, drawers +and trays had for her its own form and meaning, a small world in which +she knew her way so well. Her deft white fingers knew how to throw, +change, catch and pick up those bobbins so nimbly, so swiftly; she stuck +her pins, which were to give the thread its lie and form, so accurately +and surely; and, under her hand, the lace grew slowly and imperceptibly +into a light thread network, grew with the leaves and flowers of her +geraniums and phlox and the silent course of time. + +‘Twas quite a feast when, in the evening, she wound off the ravelled end +and carefully examined the white web. She closely followed all the knots, +curves and twists of those transparent little veins; and ‘twas with +regret that she rolled up the lace again and put it away in the drawer. + +When all her peaceful thoughts had been fully pondered, when all that +life of every day, all that even round of happenings, like little white +flakes floating in the sunny sky, had drifted by through the +thought-chambers of her soul and when the light began to fail out of +doors and in, she took her rosary and prayed, for hours on end, slowly +telling the smooth beads between her fingers until, when it grew quite +dark, she started awake and became aware that for some time she had been +telling the strokes of the smith’s hammer on the other side of the wall. +Then she laid herself between the white sheets and tried to sleep. + +Two days ago the grid of her stove broke and today she had taken it to be +mended; she had been to the smith’s and now she could not get out of her +mind what she had seen there: a black cave, like an oven, down three +steps; a dark hole hung and filled on every side with black iron tools; +and, amid all this jumble, an anvil and, in the red glow from the dancing +light of the smithy fire, a small, stunted, black little fellow, hidden +out of knowledge in that gloom; a bent, thin little man wound in a +leathern apron and with a black face, from which a pair of good-humoured +eyes peered out at her, through the shining glasses of his copper-rimmed +spectacles, like two little lights in the dark. She had gone down those +three steps, looking round shyly, afraid of getting dirty; had explained +her business to that impish little chap; and had then hastily fled from +that hell. Now it seemed to her that those two eyes had looked at her so +kindly; and she wondered how any one could live in such a hole and be a +Christian creature ... and yet that smith looked as if he had a good +heart. + +Next day, she was thinking again of the little man and his dark, haunted +hole; and she sniffed the scent of her geraniums with a new pleasure and +looked with more gladness at her trim little dwelling and her +lace-pillow. She now enjoyed, realized, with all the sensual luxury of +her soul, that peaceful life of hers, something like that of the yellow, +waxen Virgin high up there on the wall, under her glass shade. And yet +she was sorry for her good neighbour: it must be so dreary alone, amid +all that dirt.... She worked at her lace, prayed and tried to think of +nothing more. + +He brought the new grid home himself. At first, she was shy with the man: +she got up, went to the stove, turned back again and only now and then +dared look at the smith from under her eyes. He was wrapped up in his +work, stood bending over the stove, trying to fix the grid. Seen like +that in the light, the little chap looked quite different to her eyes: he +was no longer young, his breath came quickly; but in all that he did +there was something so friendly, so kindly, something almost +well-mannered, that went oddly with his dirty clothes and his black face. +The little smith was known in the village as a lively person, who led a +lonely life, but who was able also to divert a company: he knew his +customers and knew how to manage them all. Here he took good care not to +dirty the floor: he spat his tobacco-juice into the coal-box and touched +nothing with his hands. When at last the grid was fixed, he stayed +talking a little: he spoke of her nice little life among all those white +things; paid her a compliment on her pretty flowers and shining copper; +and then came close to look at her lace-pillow. Lastly, seeing that she +was not at her ease, that she answered his remarks so shortly and +hesitatingly, he gave a push to his cap, refused to say what she owed him +and was gone with a skip and a jump. + +One Sunday, after vespers, he came again, bowed politely, fetched a bit +of paper out of his waistcoat-pocket and sat down on a chair by the +stove. This visit annoyed her: with the quickness with which small-minded +people weigh and think over a matter, her eyes went to the window to see +if anybody had observed him come in and was likely to set evil tongues +a-clacking. It was almost bound to be so; and, to keep her honour safe, +she opened her door, mumbling something about “warm weather” and “the +tobacco-smoke which made her cough.” + +She went to her room, fetched some money and paid the bill. The smith sat +where he was, knocked out his little stone pipe and put it in his inside +pocket; he did not look at his money and, in his hoarse little voice, +began to talk of quite common things: of wind and weather and the current +news of the village; always chatting in the same tone, a jumble of long, +breathless statements. From this he went on to his dreary, lonely life, +the monotonous quiet of it and the danger of thieves, sickness and sudden +death. She said not a word, but, against the bright window-curtains, the +sharp, heavy profile of her face, together with the flutes of her white +cap, went up and down in a continual nodding assent to everything he +said. At the end, she took pleasure in hearing him talk, nor now looked +upon that clean-washed face of his as at all so ugly. It even did her +good to see some one sitting there who came to enliven the monotony of +that long Sunday evening. By her leave, he had lighted a fresh pipe; and +she now sat sniffing up that unaccustomed smell, which rose in little +puffs from behind the stove and floated round the room, filling it with +long rows of blue curls. ‘Twas as if she were overcome by that quite new +smell of tobacco and she felt inclined to sleep; she stood up, to get rid +of that slackness, shut the front-door and, without thinking what she was +doing, asked if he would have some coffee. He nodded, gladly. + +She put the kettle on and got the coffee-pot ready, fetched out her best +cups and spoons and the white sugar. When the steam came rushing from the +spout, she poured water on the coffee and they sat down, one on each side +of the table, to sip the savoury drink in tiny draughts. ‘Twas long since +she had felt so comfortable and for the first time she thought with +dislike of her lonely life. ‘Twas late when he went home; she came with +him to the door ... and saw black figures that strolled past in the +street and perhaps had seen him leave. She had bad dreams all night: the +people pointed their fingers at her and slanderous tongues spread ugly +things about her. The whole of the next day her thoughts were in the +smithy; she swept the pavement more carefully and farther than usual, +went now and then and looked out of window; and her little curtains were +left open with a split in the middle. Yesterday, she had forgotten to +give the canary fresh water to drink. The people looked at her in the +street; two or three god-fearing gossips had let her walk home alone. +This gave her great pain; ‘twas as though a heavy load were weighing day +and night on her breast; and yet she was not sorry for what had happened. +All these trifles could not make her forget her content. She said her +prayers and performed her little duties with as much care as before and +lived on, alone. + +On Sunday, she went to church very early and prayed long: it did her so +much good, that delightful whispering with God, that sweet kind Lord Who +listened to her so patiently and always sent her away with fresh courage, +strengthened to walk on bravely along life’s irksome way. Sometimes she +was frightened at her behaviour! She was gnawed by a reproachful thought: +that she had left the straight path, that she no longer lived for God +alone, that she was forgetting her dear saints and busy with sinful +thoughts. And yet, when she carefully considered everything, nothing had +happened that seemed to her blameworthy; all that change in her life had +come as of itself and in spite of herself; and really, after all, there +was no harm in it. She prayed for that good man, who certainly needed her +spiritual aid: he went so seldom to church and lived in such a dreary +black hole. Her prayers and interest would for sure bring him to a better +frame of mind. And yet she must watch, keep strong, avoid the dangers: +her honour was a tender thing; and people were wicked. She stayed longer +than usual in the confessional and offered special prayers to every saint +in the church. + +When she was back at home, she began her little Sunday duties: the +lace-pillow was put away that day and she did nothing but arrange things, +put things in their places, gather a fresh nosegay for the porcelain vase +before Our Lady’s statue and see to her cooking. She picked the withered +leaves from the geraniums, bound the branches of the phlox to the trellis +and gave them fresh water from a little flowered can. She was specially +fond of her little pot of musk: it stood on the window-seat, opposite her +chair, carefully set in a rush cage stuck into the earth and fastened at +the top with a thread. Sometimes she took it on her lap, bent her face +over it and sniffed the pleasant smell in long draughts, until she was +almost drunk with it. + +In the afternoon, she sat down at the window and read her Thomas à +Kempis. Then all was quite still: no hammering behind the wall, no boys +in the street, only the soft tapping of the canary in his food-trough and +the tick of the pendulum; everything was quiet as though in an enchanted +sleep. The sun glowed through the geranium-leaves and cast on the +red-tiled floor a broad, round shadow which took the whole afternoon to +creep from the legs of the stove to the front-door. + +The flies buzzed round on the rafters of the ceiling or ran along the +cracks of the white-scoured table. Her thoughts wandered wearily and +lazily through the wise maxims of her book and she sometimes sat peering +at the funny shape of a coloured initial which, after long looking, +became such a silly figure, one that no longer looked in the least like a +letter, but was rather something in the form of a vice.... The lines of +print ran into one another, the maxims said all sorts of foolish things, +her eyes closed, her head nodded and she sank, with all those peaceful +things, into perfect rest. + +After dinner, the smith had had a sleep; then he washed his face, put on +his best clothes and went past her window to vespers. In the evening, she +saw him again when he went to the customers for a pot of beer: this time +he gave her a friendly nod. + +For her, Sunday passed like all the other days; she prayed longer and +closed her shutter earlier for fear of the drunkards. After saying a long +row of graces which she knew by heart, she went to her bedroom. In the +stuffy air of that closed upper chamber, she lay thinking. She was not +sleepy and it was nice, in the evening stillness, covered in her white +sheets, to lie with her eyes looking through the split in the white +curtains at the moon which hung shining outside. + +Now she gave free scope to her thoughts, until all of that had again been +pondered round and pondered out. Then it became so funny to her: ‘twas as +if she were long dead now and floating in a pale and scented air in the +company of sweet saints and angels. But it was oh, so hazy and +indistinct! It always escaped her when she wanted to enjoy it more +closely and to give the thing a name. + +It was night when the smith came home, a little tipsy, deceived by his +great thirst and the double effect of the beer in that warm weather. He +was very cheery, without really knowing why; something like a soft +buzzing fire ran through all his body and made him tingle with happiness. +They had chaffed him that evening about the old maid next door and he now +felt inclined just to tell her about it. + +Wasn’t it a shame for two people to lie here so quietly and drearily, +parted by a bit of a wall, when they could have been amusing each +other?... His white neighbour was sure to be asleep by now ... and, if he +only dared ... and, quicker indeed than he intended, he gave three little +taps on the wall and lay listening, all agog.... Three like little taps +answered! This was so unexpected that at first he sat wondering whether +he could believe his ears; then he began to swim and sprawl in his bed, +bit his teeth so as not to shout out his overflowing delight and started +banging on the wall, this time with his fists. It was too late to-night: +to-morrow, he would go to her and ask her ... and then they would +both ... and he would no longer be alone, always alone, and would have +some one to care for him, to look after him.... In all this happiness he +drowsed off gently, rocked in another world, like a little wax doll in a +pale-blue paper box. + +She had started out of her sleep at those three taps and had answered, +not knowing why; then she had got frightened at that wild man behind her +wall, had jumped out of bed and struck a light and sat waiting until the +noise stopped; then she commended her soul into the Lord’s hands and fell +softly asleep. + +The first time that he went to see her, he found the door shut. Once, +when he met her in the street, she kept her eyes carefully cast down and +passed him without a sign of greeting. Her curtains remained drawn and +she never came to the door now. He went home and sat musing on his anvil. +All his plan was blown to bits; he found himself sadly duped and turned +red with anger when folk spoke of his dear neighbour. He hammered and +filed from morning till night; and she must now be making her lace. + +Time pushed past, divided into even days, along a smooth road that led +down the mountain-slope of summer. The leaves fell from the geraniums and +the phlox. The neatly-cut-out paper fly-catcher was put away and the lamp +hung up in its place. With the sad, short days came the grey, misty sky, +the dismal, dripping rain and the white snow. The village lay dead for +half the day, dark, with here and there a little ray of light gleaming +through the shutters. + +And it became gradually drearier for her: that calm rest, in which she +had once found such a pure delight, was now a heavy weariness. She longed +for change, for something different which she could not justly define, or +else to live again as before, alone and with nothing but herself. She had +struggled and fought to rid herself of that obsession, but it followed +her everywhere: she saw him go by, even when her eyes were fixed on the +lace-pillow, the stove, or the chair on which he had sat; and there was +that constant hammering and scratching behind her wall: everywhere she +saw those two kind eyes behind the copper rims of his spectacles; and she +sometimes caught herself contentedly tracing the good-natured features of +his little black face. She had prayed more than ever and evoked quite new +saints; and now she let herself drift along at God’s pleasure, no longer +even thinking of her weakness. Perhaps she was the instrument of a +Blessed Providence, destined blindly to do good. + +The little curtains had long been pushed apart again; and, each time that +she heard approaching footsteps, her heart went beating and her eyes +looked eagerly to see if by chance ... it was not he. + +Sometimes, an anxious fluttering drove her to the front-door, where she +stood looking round for a while and then, ashamed of herself, went +indoors again. Quite against her habit, she now made use of her glass: in +the middle of her work, she went to see if the two glossy black tresses +lay neatly on her forehead and if the ribbons of her cap were properly +tied and fastened. She put on her clothes more carefully and folded and +refolded her kerchief till it enclosed her body in a pretty shape. From +before the moment of starting for church, her heart began to beat; she +shut her garden-gate more noisily and stepped loudly along the pavement +until she came to the smith’s first window, firmly resolved this time at +least to look up and say good-morning; but she always met some one who +noticed her; and she was in church by the time that, with a sigh, she had +put off her intention until next day. + +At night, in bed, she lay thinking over all these little events; and it +was a glad day or a sad day for her according as she had more or less +often caught sight of the little smith. + +One evening, after benediction, she saw him come walking under the trees +of the churchyard. Not a soul saw them. Now she really must have courage; +but again the blood came to her throat and she felt that once again it +would lead to nothing. He had just looked round before she came up to him +and then he sat down on the stone step before the Calvary, as though he +wanted to chat with her there at his ease: + +“Good-evening, Sofie,” he said, with a smile. “Have you been to say your +prayers. Don’t you ever say a little one for me? I want it so badly: my +soul’s as black as my apron and I can’t even read a prayer-book....” + +He made all this speech in a soft, fondling little tone and then sat +smirking to see what she would say. There was nothing that she longed for +more than to save his soul: + +“Can you say the Rosary?” she asked. + +“Yes, but I haven’t one.” + +“Would you like me to give you one?” + +“Oh, rather ... if you’ll be so good!” + +She bent close to him and whispered in his ear: + +“Come and fetch it, to-morrow evening, when it’s dark.” + +They walked together through the peaceful twilit churchyard and, with a +cordial “Good-evening,” went home well pleased with themselves. + +For her it was an endless day; all the time she stood considering what +she should say to him. He was coming and would sit smoking there again +behind the stove. Already she heard his pleasant, whispering talk and saw +his kind, upturned glance. She moved about restlessly to set everything +in order. The shutters were closed quite early and the lamp burning. Now +she went and had one more look outside and it was pitch-dark, with never +a moon. On the stroke of eight, the door opened: he was there, with his +Sunday jacket on, his red scarf and his leather shoes. She was most +friendly, but did not at first know how to begin the conversation. + +He lit his pipe and snuffled some news of the village and of people who +were married, sick or dead. She made coffee, turned up the lamp and +opened her bedroom door to give an outlet to the tobacco-smoke. Straight +opposite him, deep in the half-darkness, he saw all that show of white: +against the wall stood the bed, under a white canopy of curtains hanging +in folds, set off with a white ball-fringe; also a praying-desk with +velvet cushions, above which was an image of the Sacred Heart, with gold +flowers, and, hanging from a brass chain, a perpetual light glimmering in +a little red glass; and, all around, on the white walls, little statues +and pictures, like a devout little tabernacle ashine with cleanliness. +They drank their fragrant cup of coffee and nibbled lumps of white sugar. + +“And my rosary?” he asked. + +She fetched it out of the drawer of her lace pillow and came and sat +close to him to teach him how to say it: + +“Here, at the little cross, the I Believe in God the Father; then, at +each big bead, an Our Father; and, at the little ones, a Hail Mary.” + +He sat with his legs drawn under his chair, with one hand at his chin, +listening good-humouredly and, with a smile, repeating all she taught +him. Her eyes shone with happiness. Now the talk went easily on church +matters and all the things of her pious little life; she showed him the +pictures in her prayer-book, explained all the attributes of the saints +and told long stories of their lives and martyrdoms. + +He, also, told her of his youth, when he made his first communion and was +the best little man in the whole village. It was striking ten when he +went home; and he had promised to come and listen to her again. + +Every evening, when it grew dark, he sat peeping to see if there was no +one in the street and then cautiously crept in through her gate. He +brought her old books from his loft; and, while he smoked his pipe, she +lit the candle before the statue of Our Lady and started talking, very +gently, so as not to be heard outside. She read whole chapters out of +Thomas à Kempis and _The Pious Pilgrim_, _The Dove amongst the Rocks_, +_The Spiritual Bridegroom_, or _The Sacred Meditations_. They sat there +for hours at a time gazing at each other and smiling. When it grew late, +she went and looked outside and, when the moment was favourable, she +carefully let him out. She thanked Our Lord for making her so happy and +often prayed that it might last and she win the smith’s soul for Heaven +and that their doing might all the same be kept hidden from wicked +people. + +St. Eloi’s Day is the holiday of smiths and husbandmen. In the morning, +the farmers all went together to mass and thence, after a glass, to +settle their yearly reckoning at the smith’s. At noon there was a big +dinner at the inn. They ate much and drank more; and, from afternoon till +late in the evening, the smiths’ men and the peasants loafed along the +streets and sang ribald songs. The steadiest of them walked about +talking, from one tavern to the other. They were nearly all drunk. She +sat peeping at it from behind her curtain and was vexed at all this +wantonness and rather glad that she had not yet seen “him” anywhere. She +said her evening prayers and was just going to bed when she heard the +door open and the smith stepped in. + +He carried his pipe upside down in his mouth, his eyes looked wild and +his speech was incoherent. She had never seen him like that; and she was +frightened at his strange gestures. She wanted him to sit down, but he +came up to her with his arms open, as if to catch hold of her. She +stepped back in affright, pushed him away from her. His breath stank of +drink and his thin legs tottered under him. She began to beseech him, +that it was late and that he should go home and that people would +know.... But his eyes looked at her roguishly and, with bent head and +outstretched arms, he kept on trying to come closer. Filled with dread, +she wavered away behind the tables and chairs, whimpering: + +“If you please, if you please, Sander, go home; you frighten me!” + +Suddenly, he nipped out the flame of the lamp with his fingers. It was +quite dark. + +“Sander! Sander! What do you want? Heavens! He’s drunk! And I’m here all +alone! Lord God, St. Catherine, help!” + +He still spoke not a word, but uttered ugly growls; and she heard his +hands rub and grope along the wall, against herself. She pulled open the +door of her bedroom and fled up the stairs and fell in a heap in the +corner beside her bed. There she sat waiting, out of breath.... Yes, his +heavy shoes had found the steps; and, still growling, he entered the +room. He felt the bed, lay down flat on his stomach and reached out with +his arms; then he found her sitting sighing. She felt those two weedy +arms grasp her and was caught in them as in an iron band. She moaned and +screamed for help. His dirty, slimy mouth pressed her lips ... and then +she felt herself sink away, out of the world. The people who heard the +cries came to see what was the matter. They hauled the drunkard outside +and laid her on the bed. When they saw that she was better, they went +away again. + +She lay stretched out slackly in the dark. First, still quite overcome, +as though drunk with sleep, she slowly, through that dim whirl of stormy +thoughts, came to understand what had happened: all her misfortune, which +yawned before her like a deep, black well. She was ashamed, disgusted +with herself and felt a great aversion, a loathing for all the world: +people were a pack of lustful pigs.... And he too: that was over now, +suddenly over, for good and all.... And he ... no, he had deceived her, +grievously defiled her. And now to have to go on living like that! It was +done past recall: she was punished for her trustfulness ... and those +same kind eyes and that friendly face; only yesterday, they had said +their evening prayers together and so devoutly! Oh, ‘twas such a pity! +And what would people say?... And the priest?... And Our Lord and all His +dear saints?... She fell into ever-deepening despair and saw never a way +out. Very far away shone her pure little life of former days, her white +and peaceful little soul floating in that unruffled blue sanctity, in +that fragrant twilight of evening after evening ... and all this he had +now crushed in one second and stamped to pieces. And he was dead to her, +he with whom she had dreamed so sweetly and lived in glad expectation. In +her wretchedness, she was left stark alone, abandoned like a poor babe in +the snow. She plunged her face into the white sheets and cried. She would +have liked to pine away there, in that kindly darkness, and never, never +to see daylight again. + + + + +XI. THE END + +Zeen pulled up his bent back, wiped the sweat from his forehead with his +bare arm and drew a short breath. + +Zalia, with her head close to the ground, went on binding her sheaves. + +The sun was blazing. + +After a while, Zeen took up his sickle again and went on cutting down the +corn. With short, even strokes, with a swing of his arm, the sickle rose +and, with a “d-zin-n-n” fell at the foot of the cornstalks and brought +them down in great armfuls. Then they were hooked away and dragged back +in little even heaps, ready to be bound up. + +It did not last long: he stopped again, looked round over all that power +of corn which still had to be cut and beyond, over that swarming plain, +which lay scorching, so hugely far, under that merciless sun. He saw +Zalia look askant because he did not go on working and, to account for +his resting, drew his whetstone from his trouser-pocket and began slowly +to sharpen the sickle. + +“Zalia, it’s so hot.” + +“Yes, it’s that,” said Zalia. + +He worked on again, but slowly, very slackly. + +The sweat ran in great drops down his body; and sometimes he felt as if +he would tumble head foremost into the corn. Zalia heard his breath come +short and fast; she looked at him and asked what was the matter. His arms +dropped feebly to his sides; and the hook and sickle fell from his hands. + +“Zalia, I don’t know ... but something’s catching my breath like; and my +eyes are dim....” + +“It’s the heat, Zeen, it’ll wear off. Take a pull.” + +She fetched the bottle of gin from the grass edge of the field, poured a +sip down his throat and stood looking to see how it worked: + +“Well?” + +Zeen did not answer, but stood there shivering and staring, with his eyes +fixed on a bluebonnet in the cut corn. + +“Come, come, Zeen, get it done! Have just another try: it’ll get cooler +directly and we’ll be finished before dark.” + +“Oh, Zalia, it’s so awfully hot here and it’ll be long before it’s +evening!” + +“But, Zeen, what do you feel?” + +Zeen made no movement. + +“Are you ill?” + +“Yes, I am, Zalia. No, not ill, but I feel so queer and I think I ought +to go home.” + +Zalia did not know what to do: she was frightened and did not understand +his funny talk. + +“If you’re ill ... if you can’t go on, you’d better get home quick: +you’re standing there like a booby.” + +Zeen left his sickle on the ground and went straight off the field. She +saw him go slowly, the poor old soul, lurching like a drunken man, and +disappear behind the trees. Then she took her straw-band and bundled up +all the little heaps of corn, one after the other, and bound them into +sheaves. She next took the sickle and the hook and just went cutting away +like a man: stubbornly, steadily, with a frenzied determination to get it +done. The more the corn fell, the quicker she made the sickle whizz. + +The sweat ran down her face; now and then, she jogged back the straw hat +from over her eyes to see how much was left standing and then went on +cutting, on and on. She panted in the doing of it.... She was there +alone, on that outstretched field, in that heat which weighed upon her +like a heavy load; it was stifling. She heard no sound besides the swish +of her steel and the rustling of the falling corn. + +When at last she could go on no longer, she took a sip at the bottle and +got new strength. + +The sun was low in the sky when she stood there alone on the smooth +field, with all the corn lying flat at her feet. Then she started +binding. + +The air grew cooler. When the last sheaf was fastened in its straw-band +and they now stood set up in heavy stooks, like black giants in straight +rows, it began to grow dark. She wiped the sweat from her face, slipped +on her blue striped jacket, put the bottle in her hat, took the sickle +and hook on her shoulder and, before going, stood for a while looking at +her work. She could now see so very far across that close-shorn plain; +she stood there so alone, so tall in that stubble-field, everything lay +so flat and, far away over there, the trees stood black and that mill and +the fellow walking there: all as though drawn with ink on the sky. It +seemed to her as if the summer was now past and that heavy sultriness was +a last cramped sigh before the coming of the short days and the cold. + +She went home. Zeen was ill and it was so strange to be going back +without him. It was all so dreary, so dim and deadly, so awful. Along the +edge of the deep sunken path the grasshoppers chirped here and there, all +around her: an endless chirping on every side, all over the grass and the +field; and it went like a gentle woof of voices softly singing. This +singing at last began to chatter in her ears and it became a whining +rustle, a deafening tumult and a painful laughter. From behind the +pollard her cat jumped on to the path: it had come to the field to meet +her and, purring cosily, was now arching its back and loitering between +Zalia’s legs until she stroked it; then it ran home before her with great +bounds. The goat, hearing steps approach, put its head over the +stable-door and began to bleat. + +The house-door was open; as she went in, Zalia saw not a thing before her +eyes, but she heard something creaking on the floor. It was Zeen, trying +to scramble to his feet when he heard her come in. + +“Zeen!” she cried. + +“Yes,” moaned Zeen. + +“How are you? No better yet? Where are you?... Why are you lying flat on +the floor like this?” + +“Zalia, I’m so ill ... my stomach and....” + +“You’ve never been ill yet, Zeen! It won’t be anything this time.” + +“I’m ill now, Zalia.” + +“Wait, I’ll get a light. Why aren’t you in bed?” + +“In bed, in bed ... then it’ll be for good, Zalia; I’m afraid of my bed.” + +She felt along the ceiling for the lamp, then in the corner of the hearth +for the tinder-box; she struck fire and lit up. + +Zeen looked pale, yellow, deathlike. Zalia was startled by it, but, to +comfort him: + +“It’ll be nothing, Zeen,” she said. “I’ll give you a little Haarlem oil.” + +She pulled him on to a chair, fetched the little bottle, put a few drops +into a bowl of milk and poured it down his throat. + +“Is it doing you good?” + +And Zeen, to say something, said: + +“Yes, it is, Zalia, but I’d like to go to sleep, I’m feeling cold now and +I’ve got needles sticking into my side ... here, see?” + +And he pressed both his hands on the place. + +“Yes, you’re better in bed; it’ll be gone in the morning and we’ll fetch +in the corn.” + +“Is it cut?” + +“All done and stooked; if it keeps fine to-morrow, we’ll get it all into +the barn.” + +Zalia lifted him under his armpits and they crawled on like that into the +other room, where the loom stood with the bed behind it. She helped him +take off his jacket and trousers and put him to bed, tucked him nicely +under the blanket and put his night-cap on his head. + +Then she went and lit the fire in the hearth, hung up the pot with the +goat’s food, washed the potatoes and sat down to peel them for supper. + +She had not peeled three, when she heard Zeen bringing up. + +“That’s the oil, it’ll do him good,” she thought and, fetching a can of +water from outside, gave him a bowl to drink. + +Then she went back to her peeling. A bit later, she sat thinking of other +remedies--limeflowers, sunflower-seeds, pearl barley, flowers of +sulphur--when suddenly she saw Mite Kornelje go by. She ran out and +called: + +“Mite!” + +“What is it, Zalia?” + +“Mite, Zeen is ill.” + +“What, ill? All at once?” + +“Yes, all of a sudden, cutting the corn in the field.” + +“Is he bad?” + +“I don’t know, I’ve given him some Haarlem oil, he’s been sick; he’s +complaining of pains in his side and in his stomach; he’s very pale: you +wouldn’t know him.” + +They went indoors. Zalia took the lamp and both passed in, between the +loom and the wall by Zeen’s bed. + +He lay staring at the ceiling and catching his breath. Mite stood looking +at him. + +“You must give him some English salt,[11] Zalia.” + +[11] Epsom salts. + +“Why, Mite, I never thought of that; yes, he must have some English +salt.” + +And she climbed on to a chair and took from the plank above the bed a +dusty calabash full of little paper bags and packets. + +She opened them one by one and found canary-seed, blacklead, +washing-blue, powdered cloves, cinnamon, sugar-candy, burnt-ash ... but +no English salt. + +“I’ll run home and fetch some, Zalia.” + +“Yes, Mite, do.” + +And Mite went off. + +“Well, Zeen, no better yet?” + +Zeen did not answer. She took a pail of water and a cloth, cleaned away +the mess from beside the bed and then went back to peel her potatoes. + +Mite came back with the English salt. Treze Wizeur and Stanse Zegers, who +had heard the news, also came to see how Zeen was getting on. Mite +stirred a handful of the salt in a bowl of water and they all four went +to the sick man’s bed. Zeen swallowed the draught without blinking. Mite +knew of other remedies, Stanse knew of some too and Treze of many more: +they asked Zeen questions and babbled to him, made him put out his tongue +and felt his pulse, cried out at his gasping for breath and his pale +colour and his dilated pupils and his burning fever. Zeen did not stir +and lay looking at the ceiling. When he was tired of the noise, he said: + +“Leave me alone.” + +And he turned his face to the wall. + +Then they all went back to the kitchen. The goat’s food was done. Zalia +hung the kettle with water on the hook and made coffee; and the four +women sat round the table telling one another stories of illness. In the +other room there was no sound. + +A bit later, Mite’s little girl came to see where mother was all this +time. She was given a lump of sugar and sat down by her mother. + +“Zalia, have you only one lamp?” asked Treze. + +“That’s all, Treze, but I have the candle.” + +“What candle?” + +“The blessed candle.” + +“We’ve not come to that yet: it’s only that Zeen has to lie in the dark +like this and we have to go to and fro with the lamp to look at him.” + +“Zeen would rather lie in the dark.” + +“I’ll tell you what: Fietje shall run home and fetch something, won’t +you, Fietje? And say that mother is going to stay here because Zeen is +dying.” + +Fietje went off. The coffee was ready and when they had gulped down their +first bowl, they went to have another look in the room where the sick man +lay. + +Zeen was worse. + +“We must sit up with him,” said Stanse. + +“For sure,” said Treze. “I’ll go and tell my man: I’ll be back at once.” + +“Tell Free as you’re passing that I’m staying here too,” said Stanse. + +“We must eat, for all that,” said Zalia; and she hung the potatoes over +the fire. + +Then she went to milk the goat and take it its food. It was bright as day +outside and quiet, so very quiet, with still some of the heat of the sun +lingering in the air, which weighed sultrily. She crept into the dark +goat-house, put down the pot with the food and started milking. + +“Betje, Betje, Zeen is so ill; Zeen may be dying, Betje!” + +She always clacked to her goat like that. Two streams of milk came +clattering in turns into the little pail. + +People came: Treze and Mite’s little girl, with a lantern, and Barbara +Dekkers, who had also come to have a look. + +“I’m here,” said Zalia, “I’ve done, I’m coming at once.” + +They stood talking a bit outside in the moonlight and then went in. + +“Perhaps my man’ll come on,” said Treze. “A man is better than three +women in illness; and Virginie’s coming too: I’ve been to tell her.” + +“Well, well,” said Barbara, “who’d ever have thought it of Zeen!” + +“Yes, friends, and never been ill in his life; and he turned seventy.” + +Stanse mashed the potatoes; Zalia poured a drain of milk over them and +hung them over the fire again. + +“Have you all had your suppers?” she asked. + +“Yes,” said Treze and Barbara and Mite. + +“I haven’t,” said Stanse. + +Zalia turned the steaming potato-mash into an earthen porringer and she +and Stanse sat down to it. The others drank a fresh bowl of coffee. + +They were silent. + +The door opened and from behind the screen came a great big fellow with a +black beard: + +“What’s up here? A whole gathering of people: is it harvest-treat to-day, +Zalia? Why, here’s Barbara and Mite and....” + +“Warten, Zeen is ill.” + +“Zeen?... Ill?” + +“Yes, ill, man, and we’re sitting up.” + +Warten opened wide eyes, flung the box which he carried over his shoulder +by a leather strap to the ground and sat down on it: + +“Ha! So Zeen’s ill... he’s not one of the youngest either.” + +“Seventy-five.” + +They were silent. The womenfolk drank their coffee. Warten fished out a +pipe and tobacco from under his blue smock and sat looking at the rings +of smoke that wound up to the ceiling. + +“Well, perhaps I’ve come at the right time, if that’s so.” + +“You can help sit up.” + +“Have you had your supper, Warten?” + +“Yes, Zalia, at the farm.” + +“And how’s trade?” asked Stanse. + +“Quietly, old girl.” + +They heard a moaning in the other room. Barbara lit the lantern and all +went to look. Warten stayed behind, smoking. + +Zeen lay there, on a poverty-stricken little bed, low down near the +ground, behind the loom, huddled deep on his bolster under a dirty +blanket: a thin little black chap, leaning against a pillow in the +dancing twilight of the lantern. His eyes were closed and his bony face +half-hidden in the blue night-cap. His breath rustled; and each puff from +his hoarse throat, blowing out the thin flesh of his cheeks, escaped +through a little opening on one side of his sunken lips, which each time +opened and shut. + +“Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!” cried Barbara. + +“That’s bad, that’s bad,” said Stanse and shook her head. + +“His eyes are shut and yet he’s not asleep!” + +“Zeen! Zeen!” cried Mite and she pushed him back by his forehead to make +him look up. “Zeen! Zeen! It’s I: don’t you know Mite?” + +“Oof!” sighed Zeen; and his head dropped down again without his eyes +opening. + +“He’s got the fever,” said Barbara. “Just feel how his forehead’s burning +and he’s as hot as fire.” + +“Haven’t you poulticed him?” asked Stanse. “He wants poultices on his +feet: mustard.” + +“We haven’t any mustard and it’s far to the village.” + +“Then he must have a bran bath, Zalia. Stanse, put on the kettle.” + +“Have you any bran, Zalia?” + +“No, not ready; but there’s maize.” + +“And a sieve?” + +“Yes, there’s a sieve.” + +“Hi, Warten, come and sift!” + +Warten came in: + +“Zeen, how are you, my boy? Oh, how thin he is! And his breath ... it’s +spluttering, that’s bad. He’ll go off quickly, Barbara, it seems to me.” + +“Not to-night,” said Treze. + +“Warten, go to the loft, take the lamp and sift out a handful of maize; +Zeen must have a bran bath at once.” + +Warten went up the stair. After a while, they heard above their heads the +regular, jogging drag of the sieve over the boarded ceiling and the fine +meal-dust snowed down through the cracks, whirling round the lamp, and +fell on Zeen’s bed and on the women standing round. + +Zeen nodded his head. They held a bowl of milk to his mouth; two little +white streaks ran down from the corners of his mouth into his +shirt-collar. + +The sieve went on dragging. The women looked at Zeen, then at one another +and then at the lantern. In the kitchen, the kettle sang drearily.... + +Warten came down from the loft with half a pailful of bran. Barbara +poured the steaming water on it and flung in a handful of salt. + +They took the clothes off the bed and pulled his feet into the +bran-water. Zeen groaned; he opened his eyes wide and looked round wildly +at all those people. + +He hung there for a very long time, with his lean black legs out of the +bed and the bony knees and shrunk thighs in the insipid, sickly-smelling +steam of the bran-water. Then they lifted him out and stuck his wet feet +under the bedclothes again. Zeen did not stir, but just lay with the +rattle in his throat. + +“What a sad sick man,” said Stanse, softly. + +Mite wanted to give him some food, eggs: it might be faintness. + +Treze wanted to bring him round with gin: her husband had once.... + +“Is there any, for the night?...” asked Stanse. + +“There’s a whole bottle over there, in the cupboard.” + +Zeen opened his eyes--two green, glazed eyes, which no longer saw +things--and wriggled his arms from under the clothes: + +“Why don’t you make the goat stop bleating?” he stammered. + +They looked at one another. + +“Zalia, why won’t you speak to me?... And what are all these people doing +here?... I don’t want any one to help me die!... I and Zalia.... I and +Zalia.... Look, how beautiful! Zalia, the procession’s going up the wall +there.... Why don’t you look?... It’s so beautiful!... And I, I’m the +only ugly one in it....” + +“He’s wandering,” whispered Treze. + +“And what’s that chap doing here, Zalia?” + +“It’s I, Zeen, I: Warten the spectacle-man.” + +His eyes fell to again and his cheeks again blew the breath through the +little slit of his mouth. It rattled; and the fever rose. + +“It’ll be to-night,” said Treze. + +“Where can Virginie be? She’ll come too late.” + +“Virginie is better than three doctors or a priest either,” thought Mite. + +“Zalia, I think I’d get out the candle.” + +Zalia went to the chest and got out the candle. + +“Mother, I’m frightened,” whined Fietje. + +“You mustn’t be frightened of dead people, child; you must get used to +it.” + +“Have you any holy water, Zalia?” + +“Oh, yes, Barbara: it’s in the little pot over the bed!” + +“And blessed palm?” + +“Behind the crucifix.” + +There was a creaking in the kitchen and Virginie appeared past the loom: +a little old woman huddled in her hooded cloak; in one hand she carried a +little lantern and in the other a big prayer-book. She came quietly up to +the bed, looked at Zeen for some time, felt his pulse and then, looking +up, said, very quietly: + +“Zeen’s going.... Has the priest been?” + +“The priest?... It’s so far and so late and the poor soul’s so old....” + +“What have you given him?” + +“Haarlem oil, English salt....” + +“And we put his feet in bran water.” + +Virginie stood thinking. + +“Have you any linseed-meal?” she asked. + +“No.” + +“Then ... but it’s too late now, any way....” + +And she looked into the sick man’s eyes again. + +“He’s very far gone,” thought Mite. + +“Got worse quickly,” said Barbara. + +Zalia said nothing; she stood at the foot of the bed, looking at her +husband and then at the women who were saying what they thought of him. + +“Get the blessed candle; we must pray, good people,” said Virginie; and +she put on her spectacles and went and stood with her book under the +light. + +The women knelt on low chairs or on the floor. Warten stood with his +elbows leaning on the rail of the bed, at Zeen’s head. Treze took the +blessed candle out of its paper covering and lit it at the lamp. + +Zeen’s chest rose and fell and his throat rattled painfully; his eyes +stood gazing dimly at the rafters of the ceiling; his thin lips were pale +and his face turned blue with the pain; he no longer looked like a living +thing. + +Virginie read very slowly, with a dismal, drawling voice, through her +nose, while Treze held Zeen’s weak fingers closed round the candle. It +was still as death. + +“May the Light of the World, Christ Jesus, Who is symbolized by this +candle, brightly light thy eyes that thou mayest not depart this life in +death everlasting. Our Father....” + +They softly muttered this Our Father and it remained solemnly still, with +only Warten’s rough grunting and Zeen’s painful breathing and the goat +which kept ramming its head against the wall. And then, slower by +degrees: + +“Depart, O Christian soul, from this sorrowful world; go to meet thy dear +Bridegroom, Christ Jesus, and carry a lighted candle in thy hands: He +Who....” + +Then Barbara, interrupting her, whispered: + +“Look, Virginie, he’s getting worse; the rattle’s getting fainter: turn +over, you’ll be too late.” + +Treze was tired of holding Zeen’s hand round the candle: she spilt a few +drops of wax on the rail of the bed and stuck the candle on it. + +Zeen jerked himself up, put his hands under the clothes and fumbled with +them; then he lay still. + +“He’s packing up,” whispered Barbara. + +“He’s going,” one of the others thought. + +Virginie dipped the palm-branch into the holy water and sprinkled the bed +and the bystanders; then she read on: + +“Go forth, O Christian soul, out of this world, in the name of God the +Father Almighty, Who created thee, in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son +of the living God, Who suffered for thee; in the name of the Holy Ghost, +Who sanctified thee.” + +“Hurry, hurry, Virginie: he’s almost stopped breathing!” + +The cat jumped between Zalia and Treze on to the bed and went making +dough with its front paws on the clothes; it looked surprised at all +those people and purred softly. Warten drove it away with his cap. + +“Receive, O Lord, Thy servant Zeen into the place of salvation which he +hopes to obtain through Thy mercy.” + +“Amen,” they all answered. + +“Deliver, O Lord, the soul of Thy servant from all danger of hell and +from all pain and tribulation.” + +“Amen.” + +“Deliver, O Lord, the soul of Thy servant Zeen, as Thou deliveredst Enoch +and Elias from the common death of the world.” + +“Amen.” + +“Deliver, O Lord, the soul of Thy servant Zeen, as Thou deliveredst....” + +“I’m on fire! I’m on fire!” howled Warten. “My smock! My smock!” + +And he jumped over all the chairs and rushed outside, with the others +after him. + +“Caught fire at the candle!” he cried, quite out of breath. + +They put out the flames, pulled the smock over his head and poured water +on his back, where his underclothes were smouldering. + +“My smock, my smock!” he went on moaning. “Brand-new! Cost me forty-six +stuivers!” + +And he stood with his smock in his hands, looking at the huge holes and +rents. + +They made a great noise, all together, and their sharp voices rang far +and wide into the still night. + +Virginie alone had remained by the bedside. She picked up the candle, lit +it again, put it back on the rail of the bed and then went on reading the +prayers. When she saw that Zeen lay very calmly and no longer breathed, +she sprinkled him with holy water for the last time and then went +outside: + +“People ... he’s with the Lord.” + +It was as if their fright had made them forget what was happening +indoors: they rushed in, eager to know ... and Zeen was dead. + +“Stone-dead,” said Barbara. + +“Hopped the twig!” said Warten. + +“Quick! Hurry! The tobacco-seed will be tainted!” screamed Mite; and she +snatched down two or three linen bags which hung from the rafters and +carried them outside. + +First they moaned; then they tried to comfort one another, especially +Zalia, who had dropped into a chair and turned very pale. + +Then they set to work: Treze filled the little glasses; Barbara hung the +water over the fire; and Warten, in his shirt-sleeves, stropped his razor +to shave Zeen’s beard. + +“And the children! The children who are not here!” moaned Zalia. “He +ought to have seen the children!” + +“First say the prayers,” ordered Virginie. + +All knelt down and, while Warten shaved the dead man, it went: + +“Come to his assistance, all ye saints of God; meet him, all ye angels of +God: receiving his soul, offering it in the sight of the Most High.... + +“To Thee, O Lord, we commend the soul of Thy servant, that being dead to +this world, he may live to Thee; and whatever sins he has committed in +this life, through human frailty, do Thou, in Thy most merciful goodness, +forgive....” + +“Amen,” they answered. + +Virginie shut her book, once more sprinkled holy water on the corpse and +went home, praying as she went. + +Zalia made the sign of the Cross and closed her husband’s eyes; then she +laid a white towel on a little table by the bed and put the candle on it +and the crucifix and the holy water. + +Warten and Barbara took Zeen out of the bed and put him on a chair, +washed him all over with luke-warm water, put a clean shirt on him and +his Sunday clothes over him; then they laid him on the bed again. + +“He’ll soon begin to must,” said Barbara. + +“The weather’s warm.” + +“He’s very bent: how’ll they get him into the coffin?” + +“Crack his back.” + +Treze looked round for a prayer-book to lay under Zeen’s chin and a +crucifix and rosary for his hands. + +Mite took a red handkerchief and bound it round his head to keep his +mouth closed. Fietje was still kneeling and saying Our Fathers. + +“It’s done now,” said Barbara, with a deep sigh. “We’ll have just one +more glass and then go to bed.” + +“Oh, dear people, stay a little longer!” whined Zalia. “Don’t leave me +here alone.” + +“It’s only,” said Mite, “that it’ll be light early to-morrow and we’ve +had no sleep yet.” + +“Come, come,” said Barbara, to comfort her, “you mustn’t take on now. +Zeen has lived his span and has died happily in his bed.” + +“Question is, shall we do as well?” said Mite. + +“And Siska and Romenie and Kordula and the boys, who are not here! They +ought to have seen their father die!... The poor children, they’ll cry +so!” + +“They’ll know it in good time,” said Warten. + +“And where are they living now?” asked Mite. + +“In France, the two oldest ... and there’s Miel, the soldier ... it’s in +their letters, behind the glass.” + +“Give ‘em to me,” said Treze. “I’ll make my boy write to-morrow, before +he goes to school.” + +They were going off. + +“And I, who, with this all, don’t know where I’m to sleep,” said Warten. +“My old roost, over the goat-house: you’ll be wanting that to-night, +Zalia?” + +Zalia wavered. + +“Zalia could come with me,” said Barbara. + +“And leave the house alone? And who’s to go to the priest to-morrow? And +to the carpenter? And my harvest, my harvest! Yes, yes, Warten, do you +get into the goat-house and help me a bit to-morrow. I shall sleep: why +not?” + +“_Alla_[12], come, Fietje; mother’s going home.” + +[12] A corruption of the French _allez!_ + +They went; and Zalia came a bit of the way with them. Their wooden shoes +clattered softly in the powdery sand of the white road; when they had +gone very far, their voices still rang loud and their figures looked like +wandering pollards. + +In the east, a thin golden-red streak hung between two dark clouds. It +was very cool. + +“Fine weather to-morrow,” said Warten; and he trudged off to his +goat-house. “Good-night, Zalia.” + +“Good-night, Warten.” + +“Sleep well.” + +“Sleep well too and say another Our Father for Zeen.” + +“Certainly.” + +She went in and bolted the door. Inside it all smelt of candle and the +musty odour of the corpse. She put out the fire in the hearth, dipped her +fingers once more in the holy water and made a cross over Zeen. While her +lips muttered the evening prayers, she took off her kerchief, her jacket +and her cap and let fall her skirt. Then she straddled across Zeen and +lay right against the wall. She twisted her feet in her shift and crept +carefully under the bed-clothes. She shuddered. Her thoughts turned like +the wind: her daughters were in service in France and were now sleeping +quietly and knew of nothing; her eldest, who was married, and her husband +and the children came only once a year to see their father; and even +then.... And now they would find him dead. + +Her harvest ... and she was alone now, to get it in. Warten would go to +the priest early in the morning and to the carpenter: the priest ought to +have been here, ‘twas a comfort after all; but Zeen had always been good +and ... now to go dying all at once like this, without the sacraments.... + +Why couldn’t she sleep now? She was so tired, so worn out with that +reaping; and it was so warm here, so stifling and it smelt queer: what a +being could come to, when he was dead! + +Had she slept at all? She had been lying there so long ... and there was +that smell! She wished she had sent Warten away and gone herself to lie +in the goat-house; here, beside that corpse ... but, after all, it was +Zeen.... + +The flame of the candle flickered and everything flickered with it--the +loom, the black rafters and the crucifix--in dark shadow-stripes upon the +wall. ‘Twas that kept her awake. She sat up and blew from where she was, +but the flame danced more than ever and kept on burning. Then she +carefully stepped across Zeen and nipped out the candle with her fingers. +It was dark now.... She strode back into bed, stepping on Zeen’s leg; and +the corpse shook and the stomach rumbled. She held herself tucked against +the wall, twisted and turned, pinched her eyes to, but did not sleep. The +smell got into her nose and throat and it became very irksome, +unbearable. And she got out of bed again, to open the window. A fresh +breeze blew into the room; far away beyond, the sky began to brighten; +and behind the cornfield she heard the singing beat of a sickle and the +whistling of a sad, drawling street-ditty: + +“They’re at work already.” + +Now she lay listening to the whizzing beat and the rustle of the falling +corn and that drawling, never-changing tune.... + +The funeral would be the day after to-morrow: already she saw all the +troop passing along the road and then in the church and then ... all +alone, home again. Zeen was dead now and she remained ... and all those +children, her children, who still had so long to live, would also grow +old, in their turn, and die ... ever on ... and all that misery and +slaving and then to go ... and Zeen, her Zeen, the Zeen of yesterday, who +was still alive then and not ill. Her Zeen; and she saw him as a young +man over forty years ago: a handsome chap he was. She had lived so long +with Zeen and had known him so well, better than her own self; and that +he should now be lying there beside her ... cold ... and never again ... +that he should now be dead. + +Then she broke down and wept. + + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Path of Life, by Stijn Streuvels + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PATH OF LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 8437-0.txt or 8437-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/4/3/8437/ + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Thomas Berger, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Path of Life + +Author: Stijn Streuvels + +Translator: Alexander Teixeira De Mattos + + +Release Date: July, 2005 [EBook #8437] +This file was first posted on July 10, 2003 +Last Updated: May 9, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PATH OF LIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Thomas Berger, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + +THE PATH OF LIFE + +By Stijn Streuvels + + +Translated from the West-Flemish by + +Alexander Teixeira De Mattos + + + + +TRANSLATOR's NOTE + +In introducing this new writer to the English-speaking public, I may be +permitted to give a few particulars of himself and his life. Stijn +Streuvels is accepted not only in Belgium, but also in Holland as the +most distinguished Low-Dutch author of our time: his vogue, in fact, is +even greater in the North Netherlands than in the southern kingdom. And I +will go further and say that I know no greater living writer of +imaginative prose in any land or any language. His medium is the +West-Flemish dialect, which is spoken by perhaps a million people +inhabiting the stretch of country that forms the province of West +Flanders and is comprised within the irregular triangle outlined by the +North Sea on the west, the French frontier of Flanders on the south and a +line drawn at one-third of the distance between Bruges and Ghent on the +east. In addition to Bruges and Ostend, this province of West Flanders +includes such towns as Poperinghe, Ypres and Courtrai; and so subtly +subdivided is the West-Flemish dialect that there are words which a man +of Bruges will use to a man of Poperinghe and not be understood. + +It is one of the most interesting dialects known to me, containing +numbers of mighty mediaeval words which survive in daily use; and it is +one of the richest: rich especially--and this is not usual in +dialects--in words expressive of human characteristics and of physical +sensations. + +Thus there is a word to describe a man who is not so much a poor wretch, +_un misrable_, as what Tom Hood loved to call "a hapless wight:" one who +is poor and wretched and outcast and out of work, not through any fault +of his own, through idleness or fecklessness, but through sheer ill-luck. +There is a word to describe what we feel when we hear the tearing of silk +or the ripping of calico, a word expressing that sense of angry +irritation which gives a man a gnawing in the muscles of the arms, a word +that tells what we really feel in our hair when we pretend that it +"stands on end." It is a sturdy, manly dialect, moreover, spoken by a +fine, upstanding race of "chaps," "fellows," "mates," "wives," and +"women-persons," for your Fleming rarely talks of "men" or "women." It is +also a very beautiful dialect, having many words that possess a charm all +their own. Thus _monkelen_, the West-Flemish for the verb "to smile," is +prettier and has an archer sound than its Dutch equivalent, _glimlachen_. +And it is a dialect of sufficient importance to boast a special +dictionary (_Westvlaamsch Idiotikon_, by the Rev. L. L. De Bo: Bruges, +1873) of 1,488 small-quarto pages, set in double column. + +In translating Streuvels' sketches, I have given a close rendering: to +use a homely phrase, their flavour is very near the knuckle; and I have +been anxious to lose no more of it than must inevitably be lost through +the mere act of translation. I hope that I may be forgiven for one or two +phrases, which, though not existing, so far as I am aware, in any country +or district where the English tongue is spoken, are not entirely foreign +to the genius of that tongue. Here and there, but only where necessary, I +have added an explanatory foot-note. + +For those interested in such matters, I may say that Stijn Streuvels' +real name is Frank Lateur. He is a nephew of Guido Gezelle, the +poet-priest, whose statue graces the public square at Courtrai, unless +indeed by this time those shining apostles of civilization, the Germans, +have destroyed it. Until ten years ago, when he began to come into his +own, he lived at Avelghem, in the south-east corner of West Flanders, +hard by Courtrai and the River Lys, and there baked bread for the +peasant-fellows and peasant-wives. For you must know that this foremost +writer of the Netherlands was once a baker and stood daily at sunrise, +bare-chested, before his glowing oven, drawing bread for the folk of his +village. The stories and sketches in the present volume all belong to +that period. + +Of their number, _Christmas Night_, _A Pipe or no Pipe_, _On Sundays_ and +_The End_ have appeared in the _Fortnightly Review_, which was the first +to give Stijn Streuvels the hospitality of its pages; _In Early Winter_ +and _White Life_ in the _English Review_; _The White Sand-path_ in the +_Illustrated London News_; _An Accident in Everyman_; and _Loafing_ in +the _Lady's Realm_. The remainder are now printed in English for the +first time. + +ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS. + +Chelsea, _April_, 1915. + + + +CONTENTS + + +TRANSLATOR'S NOTE + + I. THE WHITE SAND-PATH + + II. IN EARLY WINTER. + + III. CHRISTMAS NIGHT. + + IV. LOAFING + + V. SPRING + + VI. IN THE SQUALL + + VII. A PIPE OR NO PIPE + +VIII. ON SUNDAYS + + IX. AN ACCIDENT + + X. WHITE LIFE + + XI. THE END. + + + +THE WHITE SAND-PATH + + + + +I. THE WHITE SAND-PATH + +I was a devil of a scapegrace in my time. No tree was too high for me, no +water too deep; and, when there was mischief going, I was the ring-leader +of the band. Father racked his head for days together to find a +punishment that I should remember; but it was all no good: he wore out +three or four birch-rods on my back; his hands pained him merely from +hitting my hard head; and bread and water was a welcome change to me from +the everyday monotony of potatoes and bread-and-butter. After a sound +drubbing followed by half a day's fasting, I felt more like laughing than +like crying; and, in half a while, all was forgotten and my wickedness +began afresh and worse than ever. + +One summer's evening, I came home in fine fettle. I and ten of my +school-fellows had played truant: we had gone to pick apples in the +priest's orchard; and we had pulled the burgomaster's calf into the brook +to teach it to swim, but the banks were too high and the beast was +drowned. Father, who had heard of these happenings, laid hold of me in a +rage and gave me a furious trouncing with a poker, after which, instead +of turning me into the road, as his custom was, he caught me up fair and +square, carried me to the loft, flung me down on the floor and bolted the +trap-door behind him. + +In the loft! Heavenly goodness, in the loft! + +Of an evening I never dared think of the place; and in bright sunshine I +went there but seldom and then always in fear. + +I lay as dead, pinched my eyes to and pondered on my wretched plight. +'Twas silent all around; I heard nothing, nothing. That lasted pretty +long, till I began to feel that the boards were so hard and that my body, +which had been thrashed black and blue, was hurting me. My back was stiff +and my arms and legs grew cold. And yet I nor wished nor meant to stir: +that was settled in my head. In the end, it became unbearable: I drew in +my right leg, shifted my arm and carefully opened my eyes. 'Twas so +ghastly, oh, so frightfully dark and warm: I could see the warm darkness; +so funny, that steep, slanting tiled roof, crossed by black rafters, +beams and laths, and all that space beyond, which disappeared in the dark +ridgework: 'twas like a deserted, haunted booth at a fair, during the +night. Over my head, like threatening blunderbusses, old trousers and +jackets hung swinging, with empty arms and legs: they looked just like +fellows that had been hanged! And it grew darker, steadily darker. + +My eyes stood fixed and I heard my breath come and go. I pondered how +'twould end here. That lasting silence affrighted me; the anxious waiting +for that coming night: to have to spend a long, long night here alone! My +hair itched and pricked on my head. And the rats! I gave a great loud +scream. It rang in anguish through the sloping vault of the loft. I +listened as it died away ... and nothing followed. I screamed again and +again and went on, till my throat was torn. + +The gruesome thought of those rats and of that long night drove me mad +with fear. I rolled about on the floor, I struck out with my arms and +legs, like one possessed, in violent, childish fury. Then, worn out, I +let my arms and legs rest; at last, tired, swallowed up in my +helplessness, left without will or feeling, I waited for what was to +come. I had terribly wicked thoughts: of escaping from the house, of +setting fire to the house, of _murder_! I was an outcast, I was being +tortured. I should have liked to show them what I could do, who I was; to +see them hunting for me and crying; and then to run away, always farther +away, and never come back again. + +Downstairs, the plates and forks were clattering for supper. I was not +hungry; I did not wish nor mean to eat. I heard soft, quiet voices +talking: that made me desperate; they were not speaking of me! They had +no thought nor care for the miscreant; they would liefst have him dead, +out of the way. And I was in the loft! + +Later, very much later, I heard my little brother's voice saying evening +prayers--I would not pray--and then I heard nothing more, nothing; and I +lay there, upstairs, lonely and forlorn.... + +I walked all alone in the forest, through the brushwood. 'Twas half-dark +below; but, above the bushes, the sun was playing as through a green +curtain. I went on and on. The bushes here grew thick now and the tiny +path was lost. After long creeping and stumbling, I leapt across a ditch +and entered the wide drove. It did not seem strange to me that 'twas even +darker here and that the light, instead of from above, came streaming low +down from between the trunks of the trees. The vault was closed +leaf-tight and the trunks hung down from out of it like pillars. 'Twas +silent all around. I went, as I thought that I must see the sun, round +behind the trunks, half anxious at last to get out of that magic forest; +but new trees kept coming up, as though out of the ground, and hid the +sun. I would have liked to run, but felt I know not what in my legs that +made me drag myself on. + +Far beyond, on the road-side grass, sat two boys. It was ... but no, they +were sitting there too glumly! I went up to them and, after all, knew +them for Sarelke and Lowietje, the village-constable's children. They sat +with their legs in the ditch, their elbows on their knees, earnestly +chatting. I sat down beside them, but they did not even look up, did not +notice me. Those two boys, my schoolmates, the worst two scamps in the +village, sat there like two worn-out old fogies: they did not know me. +This ought to have surprised me, and yet I thought that it must be right +and that it had always been so. They chatted most calmly of the price of +marbles, of the way to tell the best hoops, of buying a new box of tin +soldiers; and they mumbled their words as slowly as the priest in his +pulpit. I became uncomfortable, felt ill at ease in that stifling air, +under that half-dusk of the twilight, where everything was happening so +earnestly, so very slowly and so heavily. I, who was all for sport and +child's-play, now found my own chums so altered; and they no longer knew +me. I would have liked to shout, to grip them hard by the shoulder and +call out that it was I: I, I, I! But I durst not, or could not. + +"There--comes--the--keeper," droned Sarelke. + +Lowietje looked down the drove with his great glassy eyes. The two boys +stood up and, without speaking, shuffled away. I saw them get smaller and +smaller, till they became two black, hovering little specks that vanished +round the bend. + +I was alone again! Alone, with all those trees, in that frightful silence +all around me. And the keeper, where was he? He would come, I knew it; +and I felt afraid of the awful fellow. I must get away from this, I must +hide myself. I lay down, very slowly, deep in the ditch. I now felt that +I had been long, long dead and that I was lying here alone, waiting for I +forget what. That keeper: was there such a person? He now seemed to me an +awesome clod of earth, which came rolling down, slowly but steadily, and +which would fall heavily upon me. Then he turned into a lovely white +ashplant, which stood there waving its boughs in a stately manner. I +would let him go past and then would go away. People were waiting for me, +I had to be somewhere: I tried mightily to remember where, but could not. + +The keeper did not come. + +The ditch was cold, the bottom was of smooth, worn stone and very hard. I +lay there with gleaming eyes: above my head stood the giant oaks, +silently, and their knotted branches ran up and were lost in the dark +sky. + +The keeper came, I heard his coming; and the wind blew fearfully through +the trees. I shivered.... + +I woke with fright and I was still lying in my loft. The hard bottom of +the ditch was the boarded floor and the tree-trunks were the legs of +father's trousers and the branches ran up and were lost in the darksome +roofwork. Two sharp rays of light beamed through the shut dormer-window. +It must be day then! And this awful night was past! All my dismay was +gone and a bold feeling came over me, something like the feeling of +gladness that follows on a solved problem. I would make Lowietje and +Sarelke and all the boys at school hark to my tale, that I would! I had +slept a whole night alone in the loft! And the rats! And the ghosts! Ooh! +And not a whit afraid! + +I got up, but that was such a slow business. I still felt that dream and +that slackness in my limbs. I was so stiff; that heavy gloom, that slow +passing of time still lingered--just as in my dream--in my slow +breathing. I still saw that forest and, shut up as I was, with not a +single touchstone for my thoughts, I began to doubt if my dream was done +and I had to feel the trouser-legs to make sure that they were not really +trees. + +Time stood still and there was no getting out of my mind the strange +things seen in that dream-forest, with those earnest, sluggish, elderly +children and that queer keeper. 'Twas as though some one were holding my +arms and legs tight to make them move heavily, deadly heavily; and I felt +myself, within my head, grown quite thirty years older, become suddenly +an old man. I walked about the loft; I wanted to make myself heard, but +my footsteps gave no sound. + +I grew awfully hungry. Near the ladder-door, I found my prison fare. I +nibbled greedily at my crust of bread and took a good drink of water. + +I now felt better, but this doing nothing wearied me; I became sad and +felt sorry to be sitting alone. If things had gone their usual gait, I +should now be with my mates at school or playing somewhere under the open +sky; and that open sky now first revealed all its delightfulness. The +usual gait, when all was said, was by far the best.... All alone like +this, up here.... Should I go down and beg father's pardon? Then 'twould +all be over and done with.... + +"No!" said something inside me, "I stay here!" + +And I stayed. + +I shoved a box under the dormer-window, I pushed open the wooden +shutter ... and there! Before me lay the wide stretch in the blazing +sunlight! My eyes were quite blind with it. + +'Twas good up here and funny to see everything from so high up, so +endlessly far! And the people were no bigger than tiny tadpoles! + +Just under my dormer-window came a path, a white sand-path winding from +behind the house and then running forwards to the horizon in a line +straight as an arrow. It looked like a naked strip of ground, powdered +white and showing up sharply, like a flat snake, in the middle of the +green fields which, broken into their many-coloured squares, lay blinking +in the sun. + +This path was deserted, lonely, as though nor man nor beast had ever +trodden it. It lay very near the house and I did not know it from up +here; it looked now like a long strip of drab linen, which lay bleaching +in a boundless meadow. And that again suited my loneliness so well! At +last, I looked and saw nothing more. And that path!... + +Slowly, overcome by that silent, restful idleness, I fell a-dreaming; and +that path, that long, white path seemed to me to have become a part of my +own being, something like a life that began over there, far away yonder +in the clear blue, to end in the unknown, here, behind the gable-end, cut +off at that fatal bend. + +After long looking, I saw something, very far off; it came so slowly, so +softly, like a thing that grows, and those two little black patches grew +into two romping schoolboys, who, rolling and leaping along, came running +down the white sand-path and, at last, disappeared in the bend behind the +gable-end. + +Then, for another long while, nothing more, nothing but sand, green and +sunshine. + +Later, 'twas three labourers, who came stepping up briskly, with their +gear over their shoulders. Half-way up the path, they jumped across the +ditch and went to work in the field. They toiled on, without looking up +or round, toiled on till I got tired of watching and tired of those three +stooping men and of seeing that gleaming steel flicker in the sun and go +in and out of the earth. + +When now 'twas mid-day and fiercely hot in my loft, my three labourers +sat down behind a tree and ate their noonday meal. + +I went to the loft-door and devoured my second crust of bread and took a +fresh gulp of water. + +Very calmly, without thinking, lame with the heat and with that old-man's +feeling still inside me, I went and sat at the window. + +The three men worked on, always, without stopping. + +And that went on, went on, until the evening! When 'twas nearly dark, +they gathered up their tools, jumped over the ditch, walked down the path +the way they had come and disappeared behind the gable-end. + +Now it became deadly. + +In the distance appeared a great black patch, which came slowly nearer +and nearer. The patch turned into a lazy, slow-stepping ox, with a +jolting, creaking waggon, in which sat a little old man who gazed +stupidly in front of him into the dark distance. The cart dragged along +wearily, creeping through the sand, and first the ox, then the little +fellow, then the waggon disappeared behind the gable-end. + +Now I felt something like fear and I shivered: the evening was coming so +slowly, so sadly; and I dared not think of the night that was to follow. +'Twas the first time in my life that I fell earnestly a-thinking. So that +path there became a life, a long-drawn-out, earnest life.... That was +quite plain in my head; and those boys had rolled and tumbled along that +path; next, those big men had burdensomely, most burdensomely turned over +their bit of earth; and the ox and the little old fellow had joggled +along it so piteously.... That life was so earnest and I had seen it all +from so far, from the outside of it: I did nothing, I took no part in it +and yet I lived ... and must also one day go along that path! + +And how? + +Getting up in the morning, eating, playing, going to school, misbehaving, +playing, eating, sleeping.... + +The mist rose out of the fields and I saw nothing more. + +I jumped off my box, begged father's pardon and crept into bed. + +Never again was I shut up in the loft. + + + + +II. IN EARLY WINTER + +First the leaves had become pale, deathly pale; later they turned +yellow-brown; and then they went fluttering and flickering, so wearily, +so slackly, like the wings of dying birds; and, one after the other, they +began to fall, dancing gently downwards, in eddies. They whirled in the +air, were carried on by the wind and at last fell dead and settled +somewhere in the mud. + +Not a living thing was to be seen and the cottages that sat huddled close +to the ground remained fast shut; the smoke from the chimneys alone still +gave a sign of life. + +The green drove now stood bare and bleak: two rows of straight trunks +which grew less and faded away in the blue mist. + +Yonder comes something creeping up: a shapeless thing, like two little +black stripes, with something else; and it approaches.... + +At last and at length, out of those little stripes, appear a man and a +wife; and, out of the other thing, a barrel-organ on a cart, with a dog +between the wheels. + +It all looked the worse for wear. The little fellow went bent between the +shafts and tugged; the little old woman's lean arms pushed against the +organ-case; and the wheeled thing jolted on like that over the cart-ruts, +along the drove and through the wide gate of an honest homestead. + +A flight of black crows sailed across the sky. The wind soughed through +the naked tree-tops; the mist rose and the world thinned away in a bluey +haze; this all vanished and slowly it became dark black night. + +Man, woman and dog, they crept, all three, high into the loft and deep +into the hay; and they dozed away, like all else outside them and around. +Warm they lay there! And dream they did, of the cold, of the dark and of +the sad moaning wind! + +At early morning, before it was bright day, they were on the tramp, over +the fallow fields, and drowned in a huge sea of thick blue mist. They +pulled for all they could: the little fellow in the shafts, the little +old woman behind the cart and the dog, with his head to the ground, for +the road's sake. + +A red glow broke in the east and a new day brightened. 'Twas all white, +snow-white, as if the blue mist had bleached, melted and stuck fast on +the black fields, on the half-withered autumn fruits and on the dark +fretwork of the trees. Great drops dripped from the boughs. + +From under the peak of his cap, the fellow peered into the distance with +his one eye, and he saw a church and houses. They went that way. + +'Twas low-roofed cottages they saw, all covered with hoar-frost; here and +there stood one alone and then a whole little row, crowded close +together: a street. + +They were in the village. + +It was lone and still, like a cloister, with here a little woman who, +tucked into her hooded cloak, crept along the houses to the church; there +a smith who hammered ... and the little church-bell, which tinkled over +the house-tops. + +They stopped. The dog sat down to look. The little fellow threw off his +shoulder-strap, pulled his cap down lower and felt under the red-brown +organ-cloth for the handle. He gave a look at the houses that stood +before him, pinched his sunken mouth, wiped the seam of his sleeve over +his face and started grinding. Half-numbed sounds came trickling into the +chill street from under the organ-cloth: a sad--once, perhaps, +dance-provoking--tune, which now, false, dragging and twisted out of +shape, was like a muddled crawling of sounds all jumbled up together; +some came too soon, the others too late, as in a weariful dream; and, in +between, a sighing and creaking which came from very deep down, at each +third or fourth turn, and was deadened again at once in those +ever-recurring rough organ-sounds or dragged on and deafened in a mad +dance. 'Twas like a poor little huddled soul uttering its plaint amid the +hullabaloo of rude men shouting aloud in the street. + +The dog also had begun to howl when the tune started. + +The little wife had settled her kerchief above her sharp-featured +old-wife's face; and, with one hand in her apron-pocket and the other +holding a little tin can, she now went from door to door: + +"For the poor blind man.... God reward you." + +And this through the whole street and farther, to the farmhouses, from +the one to the other, all day long, till evening fell again and that same +thick mist came to wrap everything in its grey, dark breath. + +And again they wandered, through a drove, to a homestead and into the +hay. + +"The dog has pupped," said the little old woman; and she shook her man. + +"Pupped?..." + +And he turned in the nest which he had made for himself, pushed his head +deeper in the hay and drowsed on. He dreamt of dogs and of pups and of +organs and of ear-splitting yelps and howls. + +The dog lay in a fine, round little nest of his own, rolled into a ball +and moaning. And he[1] looked so sadly and kindly into the little old +woman's eyes; and he licked, never stopped licking his puppies. They were +like three red-brown moles, each with a fat head; they wriggled their +thick little bodies together and sought about and squeaked. + +[1] The West-Fleming talks of dogs of either sex invariably as "he." + +When the tramps had swallowed their slice of rye-bread and their dish of +porridge, they went on, elsewhither. The little fellow tugged, the little +old woman pushed and the dogs hung swinging between the wheels, in a +fig-basket. So they went begging, from hamlet to hamlet, the wide world +through: an old man and woman, with their organ; and a dog with his three +young pups. + + +***** + + +Much later.... + +The thick mist had changed into bright, glittering dewdrops and the sun +shone high in the heaven. Now four dogs lay harnessed to the cart, four +red-brown dogs. And, when the handle turned and the organ played, all +those four dogs lifted their noses on high and howled uglily. + +Inside, deep-hidden under the organ-cloth, sat the little soul, the +mysterious, shabby little organ-soul, grown quite hoarse now and almost +dumb. + + + + +III. CHRISTMAS NIGHT + +Over there, high up among the pines, stood the house where he lived alone +with the trees and the birds; and there, every morning, he saw the sun +rise and, in the evening, sink away again. And for how many years! + +In summer, the white clouds floated high over his head; the blackbirds +sang in the wood around his door; and before him, in a blue vista, lay +the whole world. + +When his harvest was gathered and the days drew in, when the sky closed +up, when the dry pines shook and rocked in the sad wind and the crows +dropped like black flakes and came cawing over the fields, he closed his +windows and sat down in the dark to brood. + +He must go down yonder now, to the village below. + +He fetched his Christmas star from the loft, restuck the gold flowers and +paper strips and fastened them in the cleft of the long wand. Then he put +on his greatcoat, drew the hood over his head and went. + +From behind the black clouds came a light, a dull copper glow, without +rays, high up where the stars were; it set golden edges to the hem of the +clouds; the heaven remained black. There appeared a little streak of +glowing copper, which grew and grew, became a sickle, a half-disk and at +last a great, round, giant gold moon, which rose and rose. It went up +like a huge round orange behind the heaven and, more and more swiftly, +shot up into the sky, growing smaller and smaller, till it became just a +common moon, the laughing moon among the stars. + +He alone had seen it. + +Now he took his star on his shoulder, pulled his hood deep over his head +and wandered down the little path, all over the snow, to where the lights +were burning. It was lonely, lifeless, that white plain under that +burnished sky; and he was all alone, the black fellow on the snow. And he +saw the world so big, so monotonously bleak; a flat, white wilderness, +with here and there a straight, thin poplar and a row of black, lean, +knotty willows. + +He went down towards the lights. + +The village lay still. The street was black with people. Great crowds of +womenfolk, tucked and muffled in black hooded cloaks, tramped as in a +dream along the houses, over the squeaking snow. They shuffled from door +to door, stuck out their bony hands and asked plaintively for their +God's-penny. They disappeared at the end of the street and went trudging +into the endless moonlight. + +Children went with lights and stars and stood gathered in groups, their +black faces glowing in the shine of their lanterns; they made a huge din +with their tooting-horns[2] and rumble-pot[3] and sang of + + The Babe born in the straw + +and + + The shepherds they come here. + They're bringing wood and fire + And this and that and t'other: + Now bring us a pot of beer. + +[2] A cow's horn fitted with a mouthpiece. + +[3] An iron pot with a bladder stretched across the top, beaten with + sticks, like a drum. + +Mad Wanne went alone; she kept on lurching across the street with her +long legs, which stuck out far from under her skirt, and held her arms +wide open under her hooded cloak, like a demon bat. She snuffled +something about: + + 'Twas hailing, 'twas snowing and 'twas bad weather + And over the roofs the wind it flew. + Saint Joseph said to Mary Maid: + "Mary, what shall we do?" + +Top[4] Dras, Wulf and Grendel, three fellows, tall as trees, were also +loafing round. They were the three Kings: Top had turned his big jacket +and blackened his face; Grendel wore a white sheet over his back and blew +the horn; and Wulf had a mitre on and carried a great star with a lantern +on a stick. So they dragged along the street, singing at every door: + + Three Kings with a star + Came travelling from afar, + Over mountains, hills and dale, + To go and look + In every nook, + To go and look for the Lord of All. + +[4] Beggar. + +Their rough voices droned and three great shadows walked far ahead of +them on the white street-snow. All those people came and went and twisted +and turned and came and went again. Each sang his own little song and +fretted his whining prayer. Above all this rose the dull toot of the +baker's horn, as he kept on shouting: + +"Hot bread! Hot bread!" + +High hung the moon and blinked the stars; and fine white shafts fell +through the air, upon everything around, like silver pollen. + +"Maarten of the mountain!" whispered the children behind the window. +"Maarten the Freezyman!"[5] + +[5] A legendary figure of a snow-covered bogie, who comes down to the + villages at Christmas-time and runs away with the children. + +And they crept back into the kitchen, beside the fire. + +And the black man stood outside the door, tugging at the string of his +twirling star, and sang through his nose: + + Come, star, come, star, you must not so still stand! + You must go with me to Bethlehem Land, + To Bethlehem, that comely city, + Where Mary sits with her Babe on her knee.... + +Along the country-roads, the farmhouses stood snowed in, with black +window-shutters, which showed dark against the walls and shut in the +light, and stumpy chimneys, with thick smoke curling from them. Indoors, +there was no seeing clearly: the lamp hung from the ceiling in a ring of +steam and smoke and everything lay black and tumbled. In the hearth, the +yule-log lay blazing. The farmer's wife baked waffles and threw them in +batches on the straw-covered floor. + +In one corner, under the light and wound from head to foot in +tobacco-smoke, were the farm-hands, playing cards. They sat wrapped up in +their game, bending over their little table, very quiet. Now and then +came a half-oath and the thud of a fist on the table and then again +peaceful shuffling and stacking and playing of their cards. + +The Freezyman sat in the midst of the children, who listened open-mouthed +to his tale of _The Mighty Hunter_. + +His star stood in the corner. + +Later, the big table was drawn out and supper served. All gathered round +and sat down and ate. First came potatoes and pork, red kale and pigs' +chaps, then stewed apples and sausages ... and waffles, waffles, waffles. +They drank beer out of little glass mugs. The table was cleared, coffee +poured out, spirits fetched from the cupboard and gin burnt with sugar. +Then the chairs were pushed close, right round the hearth, and Maarten +stood up, took his star, smoothed his long beard and, keeping time by +tugging the string of his star, droned out: + + On Christmas night + Is Jesus born + To fight our fight + Against the night + Of Satan and his devil-spawn. + And a manger is His cot + And all humble is His lot; + _So, mortal, make you humble, too, + To serve Him Who thus served you_. + + Three wise men and each a king + Come to make Him offering; + Gold, frankincense and myrrh they bring. + Angels sweet + Kiss His feet, + As they sing: + "Hail, Lord and King!" + Telling all mankind the story + Of His wonder and His glory; + _So, mortal, make you humble, too, + To serve Him Who thus served you_. + +All else was still. The men sat drinking their hot gin, the children +listened with their heads on one side and the farmer's wife, with her +hands folded over her great lap, sat crying. + +The door opened and the Kings stood in the middle of the floor. They were +white with snow and their faces blue with cold; the ice hung from +Grendel's moustache. They looked hard under their hats at the table, the +hearth and the little glasses and at Maarten, who was still standing up. +Wulf made his star turn, Top banged his rumble-pot to time and they sang: + + Three Kings came out of the East; + 'Twas to comfort Mary.... + +When the song was ended, each got two little glasses; then they could go. + +Grendel cursed aloud. + +"That damned hill-devil swallows it all up," muttered Wulf. + +And they went off through the snow. + +The others sang and played and played cards for ever so long and 'twas +late when Maarten took his star and, with a "Good-night till next year," +pulled the door behind him. + +It was still light outside, but the sky hung full of snow; above, a grey +fleece and, lower, a swirl of great white flakes, which fell down slowly +swarming one on top of the other. + +He plunged deep into it.... It was still so far to go; and his house and +his pines, he had left them all so far behind. + +He was so old, so lone; it was so cold; and all the roads were white ... +all sky and snow. In the hollow lay the village: a little group of +sleeping houses round the white church-steeple; and behind it lay his +mountain, but it was like a cloud, a shapeless monster, very far away. + +Above his head, stars, stars in long rows. He stood still and looked up +and found one which he saw every evening, a pale, dead star, like an old +acquaintance, which would lead him--for the last time, perhaps--back to +his mountain, back home. + +And he trudged on. + +There was a light in the three narrow pointed windows of the chapel and +the bell tinkled within. He went to rest a bit against the wall. What a +noise and what a bustle all the evening ... and the gin! And those rough +chaps had looked at him so brutally. In there, it was still; those +windows gleamed so brightly; and, after the sound of the bell, there came +so softly a woman's voice: + +"_Venite adoremus_...." + +Then all was silence, the lights went out. And he fared on. + +The village lay behind him and the road began to climb. There, on the +right, stood "The Jolly Hangman." Now he knows his way and 'tis no longer +far from home. From out of the ditch comes something creeping, a black +shape that runs across the plain, chattering like a magpie: Mad Wanne, +with her thin legs and her cloak wide open. She ran as fast as she could +run and vanished behind the inn. + +He had started; he became so frightened, so uneasy, that he hastened his +steps and longed to be at home. + +There was still a light in "The Jolly Hangman" and a noise of drunken +men. He passed, but then turned back again ... to sing his last song, +according to old custom. They opened the door and asked him in. He saw +Grendel sitting there and tried to get away. Then the three of them +rushed out and called after him. When they saw that he went on, they +broke into a run: + +"Stop, you brute!... Here, you with your star!... Oh, you damned singer +of songs!" they howled and ran and caught him and threw him down. + +Grendel dug his knee into his chest and held his arms stretched wide +against the ground. Wulf and Dras gripped whole handfuls of snow and +crammed it into his mouth and went on until all his face was thickly +covered and he lay powerless. Then they planted his star beside him in +the snow and began to turn and sing to the echo: + + _A, a, a_--glory be to Him on high to-day! + _E, e, e_--upon earth peace there shall be! + _I, i, i_--come and see with your own eye! + _O, o, o_--His little bed of straw below! + +Like a flash, Mad Wanne shot past, yelling and shrieking. Wulf flung his +stick against her legs. She waved her arms under her cloak and vanished +in the dark. + +The three men sat down by the ditch and laughed full-throated. Then they +started for the village. Long it rang: + + Three Kings came out of the East; + 'Twas to comfort Mary ... + +Great white flakes fell from the starry sky, wriggled and swarmed, one on +top of the other. + + + + +IV. LOAFING + +He went, ever on the move, with the slow, shuffling step of wandering +beggars who are nowhere at home. + +They had discharged him, some time ago, and now he was walking alone like +a wild man. For whole days he had dragged himself through the moorland, +from farm to farm, looking for his bread like the dogs. Now he came to a +wide lane of lime-trees and before him lay the town, asleep. He went into +it. The streets lay dead, the doors were shut, the windows closed: all +the people were resting; and he loafed. It was dreary, to walk alone like +that, all over the country-side, and with such a body: a giant with huge +legs and arms, which were doomed to do nothing, and that belly, that +craving belly, which he carried about with him wherever he went. + +And nobody wanted him: 'twas as though they were afraid of his strong +limbs and his stubborn head--because his glowing eyes could not entreat +meekly enough--and his blackguardly togs.... + +Morning came; the working-folk were early astir. Lean men and pale women, +carrying their kettles and food-satchels in their hands, beat the +slippery pavements with their wooden shoes. Doors and windows flew open; +life began; every one walked with a busy air, knew where he was going; +and they vanished here and there, through a big gate or behind a narrow +door that shut with a bang. Carts with green stuff, waggons with sand and +coal drove this way and that. Fellows with milk and bread went round; and +it grew to a din of calls and cries, each shouting his loudest. + +And he loafed. Nobody looked at him, noticed him or wanted him. In the +middle of the forenoon, a young lady had stared at him for a long time +and said to her mother: + +"What a huge fellow!" + +He had heard her and it did him good. He looked round, but mother and +daughter were gone, behind a corner, and stood gazing into a shop full of +bows and ribbons. + +It began to whirl terribly in his belly; and his stomach hurt him so; and +his legs were tired. + +The streets and houses and all those strange people annoyed him. He +wanted to get away, far away, and to see men like himself: workers +without work, who were hungry! + +He looked for the narrow alleys and the poor quarter. + +Out of a side-street a draycart came jogging along. Half a score of +labourers lay tugging in the shoulder-strap or leant with all the force +of their bodies against the cart, which rolled on toilsomely. 'Twas a +load of flax, packed tightly in great square bales standing one against +the other, the whole cart full. The dray caught its right wheel in the +grating of an open gutter and remained stock-still, leaning aslant, as +though planted there. The workmen racked and wrung to get the wheel out, +but it was no good. Then they stood there, staring at one another, at +their wits' end and throwing glances into the eyes of that big fellow who +had come to look on. Without saying or speaking, he caught a spoke in +either hand, pressed with his mighty shoulder against the inside of the +wheel, bent and wrung and in a turn brought the cart on the level. Then +he went behind among the other workmen to go and help them shove. They +looked at him queerly, as if to say that they no longer needed his help +and had rather done without him. The cart rolled on, another street or +two, and then through the open gate of the warehouse. The labourers +looked into one another's eyes uneasily, moved about, pulled the bales +off the cart and dragged them a little farther along the wall. Then they +tailed off, one by one, through a small inner door; and he stood there +alone, like a fool. A bit later, he heard them laugh and whisper under +their breaths. When he was tired of waiting, he went up the street again. + +Nobody, nobody, nobody wanted him! + +He ground his teeth and clenched his fists. In the street through which +he had to go, on the spaces outside the hotels sat ladies and gentlemen +toying with strange foods and sipping their wine out of long goblets. +They chattered gaily and tasted and pecked with dainty lips and turned-up +noses. The waiters ran here, there, like slaves. Those coaxing smells +stung like adders and roused evil thoughts in his brain. His stomach +fretted awfully and his empty head turned. + +He hurried away. + +In a street with windowless house-fronts, a street without people in it, +he felt better. He let his body lean against the iron post of a gas-lamp, +stuck his hands in his trouser-pockets and stood there looking at the +paving-stones. Now he was damned if he would take another step, he would +rather croak here like a beast; then they would have to take him up and +know that he existed. + +The boys coming from school mocked him; they danced in a ring, with him, +the big fellow, in the middle. They hung paper flags on his back and +sang: + + Hat, hat, + Ugly old hat! + It serves as a slop-pail and as a hat! + +He did not stir. + +Yon came a milk-maid driving up in a cart drawn by dogs. He got a gnawing +in his arms, a spout of blood shot to his head and he suddenly felt as if +something was going to happen. Just as she drove past, he put his great +hand on the edge of the little cart, with one pull took a copper can from +its straw, put it to his mouth and drank; then he sent the can clattering +through the window of the first-best house, till the panes rattled again. +Looking round--as if bewildered and set going, roused by what he had +done--he caught sight of the frightened little dairy-maid. A mocking grin +played on his cruel face; he flung his rough arm round her little body +and lifted the girl out of the cart right up to his face in a fierce hug. + +The boys had fled shrieking. He felt two pairs of hands pulling at his +sleeves from below. He loosed the girl and saw two policemen who held him +fast and ordered him to go with them. They held him by the arm on either +side and stepped hurriedly to keep pace with his great strides. They +looked in dismay at that huge fellow, with his wicked eyes, and then at +each other, as if to ask what they should do. + +They came to a narrow little street, with nobody in it, and stopped at a +public-house: + +"Could you do with a dram, mate?" they asked him. + +He looked bewildered, astounded. They all three went inside; and each of +them drank a big glass of gin. + +The policemen whispered something together; the elder wiped the drink +from his moustache and then said, very severely: + +"And now, clear out; hurry up! And mind your manners, will you, next +time!" + +He was outside once more, loafing on, along the houses. + + + + +V. SPRING + +Mother stood like a clucking hen among her red-cheeked youngsters. She +was holding a loaf against her fat stomach and, with a curved +pruning-knife, was cutting off good thick slices which the youngsters +snatched away one by one and stuffed into their pockets. Horieneke +fetched her basket of knitting and her school-books. She first pulled +Fonske's stocking up once more, buttoned Sarelke's breeches and wiped +Lowietje's nose; and, with an admonishing "Straight to school, do you +hear, boys?" from mother, the whole band rushed out of the door, through +the little flower-garden and up the broad unmetalled road, straight +towards the great golden sun which was rising yonder, far behind the +pollard alders, in a mighty fire of rays. It was cool outside; the sky +was bright blue streaked with glowing shafts aslant the hazy-white clouds +deep, deep in the heavens. Over the level fields, ever so far, lay a +stain of pale green and brown; and the slender stalks of the wheat stood +like needles, quivering in their glittering moisture. The trees were +still nearly bare; and their trunks and tops stood tall and black against +the clear sky; but, when you saw them together, in rows or little +clusters, there was a soft yellow-green colour over them, spotted with +gleaming buds ready to burst. A soft wind, just warm enough to thaw the +frost, worked its way into and through everything and made it all shake +and swarm till it was twisted full of restless, growing life. That wind +curled through the youngsters' tangled hair and coloured their round +cheeks cherry-red. They ran and romped through the dry sand, stamping +till it flew above their heads. They were mad with enjoyment. + +Trientje stood in the doorway, in her little shirt, with her stomach +sticking out, watching her brothers as they disappeared; and, when she +saw them no longer, she thrust her fists into her sockets, opened her +mouth wide and started a-crying, until mother's hands lifted her up by +the arms and mother's thick lips gave her a hearty kiss. + +Horieneke came walking step by step under the lime-trees, along the +narrow grass-path beside the sand, keeping her eyes fixed on the play of +her knitting-needles. When she reached the bridge that crossed the brook, +she looked round after her brothers. They had run down the slope and were +now trotting wildly one after the other through the rich brown grass, +pulling up all the white and yellow flowers, one by one, till their arms +were crammed with them. Horieneke took out her catechism, laid it open on +the low rail and sat there cheerfully waiting. Sarelke had crept through +the water-flags until he was close to the brook and, through the clear, +gleaming blue water, watched a little fish frisking about. In a moment, +his wooden shoes and his stockings were off and one leg was in the water, +trying it: it was cold; and he felt a shiver right down his back. Ripples +played on the smooth blue and widened out to the bank. The little fish +was gone, but so was the cold; and he saw more fish, farther away: quick +now, the other leg in the water! He pulled his breeches up high and there +he stood, with the water well above his knees, peering out for fish. The +water was clear as glass; and he saw swarms of them playing, darting +swiftly up and down, to and fro like arrows: they shot past in shoals +that held together like long snakes, in among the moss and the reeds and +between the stones, winding through slits and crannies. He shouted aloud +for joy. Bertje and Wartje and the others all had their stockings off and +stood in the water bending down to look, making funnels of their hands in +the water, where it rustled in little streams between two grass-sods +through which the fish had to pass. Whenever they felt one wriggling in +their hands they yelled and screamed and sprang out of the brook to put +it into their wooden shoes, which stood on the bank, scooped full of +water. There they loitered examining those beasties from close by: those +fish were theirs now; and they would let them swim about in the big tub +at home and give them a bit of their bread and butter every day, so that +they might grow into great big pike. And now back to the runnel for more. + +"Boys, I'll tell mother!" cried Horieneke. + +But they did not hear and just kept on as before. Fonske had not been +able to catch one yet and his fat legs were turning blue with the cold. +In front of him stood Bertje, stooping and peering into the water, with +his hands ready to grasp; and Fonske saw such a lovely little runnel from +his neck to halfway down his back, all bare skin. He carefully scooped +his hands full of water and let it trickle gently inside Bertje's shirt. +The boy growled; and Fonske, screaming with laughter, skipped out of the +brook. Now came a romping and stamping in the water, a dashing and +splashing with their hands till it turned to a rain of gleaming drops +that fell on their heads and wetted their clothes through and through. +And a bawling! And a plashing with their bare legs till the spray spouted +high over the bank. + +"The constable!" cried Horieneke. + +The sport was over. Like lightning they all sprang out of the brook, +caught up their wooden shoes with the little fish in them and ran as hard +as they could through the grass to the bridge. There only did they +venture to look round. Hurriedly they turned down their breeches, dried +their shiny cheeks and dripping hair with one another's handkerchiefs and +then marched all together through the sun and wind to school. + +In the village square they wandered about among the other boys, silently +showed their catch, hid their shoes in the hawthorn-hedge behind the +churchyard and stayed playing until schoolmaster's bell rang. + +Boys and girls, each on their own side, disappeared through the gate; and +the street was now silent as the grave. After a while, there came through +the open window of the school first a sort of buzzing and humming and +then a repetition in chorus, a rhythmical spelling aloud: b-u-t, but; +t-e-r, ter: butter; B-a, Ba; b-e-l, bel: Babel; ever on and more and more +noisily. In between it all, the sparrows chattered and chirped and +fluttered safely in the powdery sand of the playground. + +The sun was now high in the sky and the light glittered on the young +leaves, full of the glad life of youth and gleaming with gold. + +Horieneke, with a few more children, was in another school. They sat, the +boys on one side and the girls on the other, on long benches and were +wrapped up in studying their communion-book and listening to an old nun, +who explained it to them in drawling, snuffling tones. After that, they +had to say their lesson, one by one; and this all went so quietly, so +modestly, so easily, 'twas as if they had the open book before them. +Half-way through the morning, they went two and two through the village +to the church, where the priest was waiting to hear their catechism. This +also went quietly; and the questions and answers sounded hollow in that +empty church. + +Horieneke sat at the head of the girls; she had caught up almost half of +them because she always knew her lessons so well and listened so +attentively. She was allowed to lead the prayers and was the first +examined; then she sat looking at the priest and listening to what came +from his lips. He always gave her a kind smile and held her up to the +others as an example of good conduct. After the catechism, they had leave +to go and play in the convent-garden. In the afternoon, there were new +lessons to be learnt and new explanations; and then quietly home. + +So they lived quite secluded, alone, in their own little world of modesty +and piety, preparing for the great day. The other youngsters, who went +their several ways, felt a certain awe for these school-fellows who once +used to romp and fight with them and who were now so good, so earnest, so +neat in their clothes and so polite. The "first-communicants:" the word +had something sacred about it which they respected; and the little ones +counted on their fingers how many years they would have to wait before +they too were learning their catechism and having leave to play in the +convent-garden. + +To her brothers Horieneke had now become a sacred thing, like a guardian +angel who watched over them everywhere; and they dared do no mischief +when she was by. She no longer played with them after school; she was now +their "big sister," to whom they softly whispered the favours which they +wished to get out of mother. + +When Trientje saw her sister coming home in the distance, she put out her +little arms and then would not let her go. For mother, Horieneke had to +wash the dishes, darn the stockings and, when the baby cried, sit for +hours rocking it in the cradle or dandling it on her lap, like a little +young mother. + +Holding Trientje by the hand and carrying the other on her arm, she would +walk along the paths of the garden and then put them both down on the +bench in the box arbour, while she tended the plants and shrubs that were +beginning to shoot. + +In the evening, when the bell rang for benediction, she called all her +little brothers and they went off to church together. From every side +came wives in hooded cloaks and lads in wooden shoes that stamped on the +great floor till it echoed in the silent nave. + +The choir was a semicircular, homely little chapel, with narrow pointed +windows, black at this hour, like deep holes, with leads outlining saints +in shapeless dark patches of colour. The altar was a mass of burning +candles; and a flickering gleam fell on the brass candlesticks, the +little gold leaves and the artificial flowers and on the corners of the +silver monstrance, which stood glittering high up in a little white satin +house. All of this was clouded in a blue smoke which rose from the holes +of the censer continuously swung to and fro by the arm of a roguish +serving-boy. Far at the back, in the dark, in the black stripes of shadow +cast by the pillars or under the cold bright patch of a lamp or a stand +of votive candles was an old wife, huddled under her hood, with bent +back, praying, and here and there a troop of boys who by turns dropped +their wooden shoes or fought with one another's rosaries. + +Near the communion-bench knelt Horieneke, her eyes wide open, full of +brightness and gladness and ecstacy, face to face with Our Lord. The +incense smelt so good and the whole little church was filled with the +trailing chords of the organ and with soft, plaintive Latin chant. Her +lips muttered automatically and the beads glided through her fingers: +numbered Hail Marys like so many roses that were to adorn her heart +against the coming of the great God. Her thoughts wafted her up to Heaven +in that wide temple full of glittering lights where, against the high +walls full of pedestals and niches, the saints, all stiff with gold and +jewels, stood smiling under their haloes and the nimble angels flew all +around on their white-plaster wings. She had something to ask of every +one of them and they received her prayer in turns. When the priest stood +up in his gleaming silver cope, climbed the three steps and took the +Blessed Sacrament in his white hands to give the benediction; when the +bell tinkled and the censer flew on high and the organ opened all its +throats and the glittering monstrance slowly made a cross in the air and +above the heads of the worshippers, she fell forward over her +praying-stool and lay like that, swooning in mute adoration, until all +was silent again, the candles out and she sitting alone there in the dark +with a few black shapes of cloaked women who wandered discreetly from one +station of the Cross to the next. Outside she heard her brothers playing +in the church-square. There she joined the little girls of her school; +and, arm in arm, they walked along past the dark houses and the silent +trees, each whispering her own tale: about her new dress, her veil, her +white shoes, her long taper with golden bows; about flowers and beads and +prayers.... + +After supper, Horieneke had to rock the baby to sleep, while mother moved +about, and then to say the evening prayers out loud, after which they all +of them went to bed. On reaching her little bedroom, she visited all the +prints and images hanging on the walls. She then undressed and listened +whether any one was still awake or up. Next she carefully crept down the +three stairs[6] in her little shift and clambered up the ladder to the +loft, where all her little brothers lay playing in a great box-bed. They +knew that she would come and had kept a place for her in the middle. She +sank deep in the straw and, when they all lay still, she went on with the +tale which she had broken off yesterday half-way. It was all made up of +long, long stories out of _The Golden Legend_ and wonderful adventures of +far beyond the sea in unknown lands. She told it all so prettily, so +leisurely; and the children listened like eager little birds. High up in +the dusk of the rafters they saw all those things happening before their +eyes in the black depths and saw the mad fairy-dance there, until they +dreamed off for good and all and Horieneke was left the only one awake, +still telling her story. Then she crept carefully back to her room and +into bed, where she lay counting: how many more days, how many times +sleeping and getting up and how many more lessons to learn ... and then +the great day! The great day! Slowly she made all the days, with their +special happenings, appear before her eyes; and she enjoyed beforehand +all those beautiful things which had kept her so long a-longing. When, in +her thoughts, it came to Saturday evening and at last, slowly--like a box +with something wonderful inside which you daren't open--to that Sunday +morning, then her heart began to flutter, a thrill ran through her body +and, so that she shouldn't weep for gladness, she bit her lips, squeezed +her hands between her knees and rubbed them until the ecstasy was passed +and she again lay smiling in supreme content and shivering with delight. + +[6] The bedroom behind the kitchen or living-room, in the Flemish + cottages, is over the cellar; but this cellar is not entirely + underground and is lighted by a very low window at the back. + Consequently, the floor of the bedroom is a little higher than that + of the living-room and is approached by a flight of two or three + steps. + +Time dragged on; cold weather came and rain and it seemed as if it never +would be summer. And that constant repetition of getting up and going to +bed and learning her lessons and counting the hours and the minutes +became so dreary and seemed to go round and round in an endless circle. + +To-day at last was the long-awaited holiday when Horieneke might go into +town with mother to buy clothes. Her heart throbbed; and she walked +beside mother, with eyes wide-open, looking round at every window, up one +street and down another, crying aloud each time for joy when she saw +pretty things displayed. They bought white slippers with little bows, a +splendid wreath of white lilies of the valley, a great veil of woven +lace, a white-ivory prayer-book, a mother-of-pearl rosary with a little +glass peep-hole in the silver crucifix, showing all manner of pretty +things. Horieneke sighed with happiness. Mother haggled and bargained, +said within herself that it was "foolishness to waste all that money," +but bought and went on buying; and, every time something new went into +the big basket, it was: + +"Don't tell father what it cost, Rieneke!" + +All those pretty things were locked away in the bedroom at home and hung +up in the oak press, while father was still at work. + +On another evening, when mother and Horieneke were alone at home, the +seamstress brought the new clothes: a whole load of white muslin in stiff +white folds full of satin bows and ribbons and white lace. They had to be +tried on; and Horieneke stood there, for the first time in her life, all +in white, like an angel. But the happiness lasted only for a spell: there +came a noise and every one in the room fled and the clothes were hastily +taken off and put away. + +Every day, when the boys were at school and father in the fields, +neighbours came to look at the clothes. Piece after piece was carefully +taken out of the press and spread out for show on the great bed. The +wives felt and tested the material, examined the tucks and seams and the +knots and the lining, the bows and ribbons and clapped their hands +together in admiration. It became known all over the village that +Horieneke would be the finest of all in the church. + +The counted days crept slowly by, the sun climbed higher every day and +the mornings and evenings lengthened. Things out of doors changed and +grew as you looked: the young green stood twinkling on every hand; the +fields lay like coloured carpets, sharply outlined; and the trees grew +long, pale branches with leaves which stood out like stately plumes +against the sky, so full of youth and freshness and free from dust as yet +and tender. In course of time, white buds came peeping, gleaming amid the +delicate young leaves, till all looked like a spotted altar-cloth: a +promising splendour of white blossoms. Here and there in the garden an +early flower came creeping out. Yonder, in the dark-blue wood, patches of +brown and of pale colour stood out clearly, with a whole variety of vivid +hues. And it had all come so unexpectedly, all of a sudden, as though, by +some magic of the night, it was all set forth to adorn and grace a great +festival. + +In the fields, the folk were hard at work. The land was turned up and +torn and broken by the gleaming plough and lay steaming in purple clods +in the sun's life-giving rays. Everything swarmed with life and movement. +The houses were done up and coated with fresh whitewash, the shutters +painted green, till it all shouted from afar in a glad mosaic, with the +blue of the sky and the young leafage of the trees, under the brown, +moss-grown roofs. + +And the days crept on, each counted and marked off: so many white stripes +on the rafters and black stripes on the almanack; they fell away one by +one and the Saturday came, the long-expected eve of the great Sunday. +Quite early, before sunrise, the linen hung outside, the white smocks and +shirts waving, like fluttering pennons, from the clothes-lines in the +white orchard. Horieneke also was up betimes and helping mother in her +work. From top to bottom everything had to be altered and done over again +and cleansed. It was only with difficulty that she got to school. The +last time! To-day, the great examination of conscience, the general +confession and the communion-practice; and, to-night, everything to be +laid out ready for to-morrow morning: all this kept running anyhow +through her head and among the lines of her lesson-book. + +Half-way through the morning they went to church. The children there all +looked so glad, so happy and so clean and neat in their second-best +clothes and so nicely washed. They now made their confessions for the +last time; and it all went so pleasantly: they had done no wrong for such +a long while and all their sins had already been forgiven two or three +times over, yesterday and the day before. They sat in two long rows +waiting their turns and thinking over, right away back to their far-off +babyhood, whether nothing had been forgotten or omitted: their little +hearts must be quite stainless now and pure. When they were tired of +examining their consciences, they fell to praying, with their eyes fixed +upon the saint who stood before them on his pedestal, or else watched the +other youngsters going in and out by turns. + +The little church looked its best, neat as a new pin: the floor was +freshly scrubbed and the chairs placed side by side in straight rows; the +brasswork shone like gold; and a new communion-cloth hung, like a +snow-white barrier, in front of the sanctuary. The velvet banners were +stripped of their linen covers; and the blue vases, with bright flowers +and silver bunches of grapes, were put out on the altar, as on +feast-days. And all of this was for to-morrow! And for them! + +All the time it was deathly still, with not a sound but that of the +youngsters going in and out of the creaking confessional. Now and then +the church-door flapped open and banged to, when one of the children had +finished and went away. Their little souls were white as new-fallen snow +and bedight with indulgences and prayers. On their faces lay the fresh +innocence of babes brought to baptism or of laughing angels' heads and in +their wide eyes everything was reflected festively and at its best; they +felt so light and lived on little but longing and a holy fear of their +own worthiness: that great, incredible thing of the morrow was suddenly +going to change them from children into grown-up people! + +They just gave themselves time to have their dinners in a hurry; and then +back to school, where they were to learn how to receive communion. A few +benches placed next to one another represented the communion-rails; and +there they practised the whole afternoon: with studied piety, their hands +folded and their heads bowed, they learnt how to genuflect, how to rise, +how to approach in ranks and return at a sign from the old nun, who +tapped with a key on the arm of her chair each time that a new row of +youngsters had to start, kneel or go back. In a short time this went as +exactly, as evenly as could be, just like soldiers drilling. Finally, +they had to recite once more their acts of faith, adoration and +thanksgiving; and Horieneke and the first of the little boys had to write +out on large sheets of paper the preparation and thanks which they had +learnt by heart, to be read to-morrow in church. After that, they were +drawn up in line and silently and mysteriously led into the convent. + +The children held their breath and walked carefully down long passages, +between high, white walls, past closed doors with inscriptions in Gothic +letters and a smell of clean linen and apples: ever on and on, through +more passages, till they reached a large hall full of chairs where Mother +Prioress--a fat and stately nun, with her great big head covered by her +cap and her hands in her sleeves--sat upon a throne. They had to file +past her, one by one, with a low bow, and then sit down. + +Mother Prioress settled herself in her seat, coughed and, in a rich, +throaty voice, began by telling the youngsters how they were to address +Our Lord; told stories of children who had become saints; and she ended +by slowly and cautiously producing a little glass case in which a thorn +out of Our Lord's crown lay exposed on a red-velvet cushion. And then +they were sent home. + +On the way, Horieneke came upon her brothers playing in the sand. They +had scooped it up in their wooden shoes and poured it into a heap in the +middle of the road and then wetted it; and now they were boring all sorts +of holes in it and tunnels and passages and making it into a +rats'-castle. She let them be, gathered up her little skirts, so as not +to dirty them, and passed by on one side. + +Mother was up to her elbows in the golden dough of the cakebread, +stirring and beating and patting the jumble of eggs and flour and milk. +Horieneke took the crying baby out of the cradle, shaking and tossing it +in the air, and went into the garden just outside the door. The golden +afternoon sun lay all around and everything was radiant with translucid +green. The little path lay neatly raked and the yellow daffodils stood, +like brass trumpets, closely ranked on their stalks; under the shrubs +bright violets peeped out with raised eyebrows, like the grinning faces +of little old wives. The whole garden was filled with a scent of fresh +jasmine and a cool fragrance of cherry-blossom and peach. + +It was all so still and peaceful that Horieneke, who had begun to sing, +stopped in the middle and stood listening to the chaffinches and siskins +chattering pell-mell. + +From there she went to her little bedroom, laid the child on her bed and +drew the curtains before the window which let in the sun in a thousand +slender beams of dusty light. The pictures and images gleamed on the wall +and the saints seemed to smile with happiness in that cool air, fragrant +of gillyflowers and white jasmine. She took out her new prayer-book, +flicked the silver clasp open and shut and played with the little shaft +of light which the gilt edge sent running all round the white walls. Then +she stood musing for a long time, gazing out through the little curtains +at those white trees in blossom, around and above which the golden pollen +danced, and at all that huge green field and the everlasting sun and all +the blue on the horizon. And, feeling tired, she laid her head on the bed +beside the baby and lingered there, dreaming of all the delight and +beauty of the morrow. + +Mother called her and Horieneke came down. Mam'selle Julie was there, who +had promised to come and curl the child's hair. Mam'selle put on a great +apron and began to undress Horieneke; then a great tub of rain-water was +carried in and the girl was scrubbed and washed with scented soap till +the whole tub was full of suds. Her head was washed as well and her hair +plaited into little braids, which were rolled up one by one and wound in +curl-papers and fastened to her head, under a net. Her cheeks and neck +shone like transparent china with the rosy blood coursing underneath. +When she was done, Mam'selle Julie went off to the other communicants. + +The boys were lying on their backs, under the walnut-tree, talking, when +Horieneke came past. They looked at the funny twists on her head and went +on talking: Wartje longed most of all to put on his new breeches; Fonske +was glad that Uncle Petrus was coming to-morrow and Aunt Stanske and +Cousin Isidoor; Bertje because of the dog-cart[7] and the dogs and the +chance of a ride; Wartje because of all that aunt would bring with her in +her great wicker basket; and Dolfke longed for father to come home from +work, so that he might help to clean the rabbits. + +[7] The Flemish low-wheeled cart drawn by dogs. + +The sun played with the gold in the leaves of the walnut-tree; and the +radiant tree-top was all aswarm and astir and little golden shafts were +shooting in all directions. The first butterfly of the year rocked like a +white flower through the air. + +"I smell something!" said Dolfke. + +They all sniffed and: + +"Mates! They're taking the cake-bread out of the oven!" + +They rushed indoors one on top of the other. On the table lay four +golden-yellow brown-crusted loaves, as big as cart-wheels, steaming till +the whole house smelt of them. + +"First let it cool! Then you can eat it," said mother and gave each of +them a flat scone. + +"Yes, mother." + +And they trotted round the kitchen holding their treasures high above +their heads and screaming with delight. + +Behind the elder-hedge they heard father's voice humming: + + When the sorrel shows, + 'Tis then the month of May, O!... + +They ran to him, took the tools out of his hands and: + +"Father, the rabbits! The rabbits now, father?" + +"Will it be fine weather to-morrow?" asked Horieneke. + +"For sure, child: just see how clear the sun is setting." + +He pointed to the west; and the boys stood on tip-toe to see the sinking, +dull-glowing disk hang glittering in its gulf of orange cloud-reefs, +pierced through and through with bright rays that melted away high in the +pale blue and grey, while that disk hung there so calmly, as though +frozen into the sky for ever. + +Father had one or two things to do and then the boys might come along to +the rabbits. + +"The two white ones, eh, father?" + +Father nodded yes; and Sarelke and Dolfke skipped along the boards to the +hutch and came back each carrying a long white rabbit by the ears. + +Dolfke held his close to the ground, hidden behind a tree, so that it +shouldn't see the other's blood and foresee its own death. While father +was sharpening his knife, Fonske took a cord and tied the hind-legs of +Sarelke's rabbit and hung it, head down, on a nail under the eaves. +Father struck it behind the ears so that it was dazed and, rolling its +eyes, remained hanging stock-still. Before it had time to scream, the +knife was in its neck and the throat was cut open. A little stream of +dark blood trickled to the ground and clotted; and some of it hung like +an icicle from the beard, which dripped incessantly with red drops. + +Fonske carefully put his finger to the rabbit's nose and licked off a +drop of blood. + +"It's going home," said Sarelke. + +"Is it dead, father?" sighed Wartje. + +"Stone-dead, my boy." + +He ripped one buttock with his knife and pulled off the skin; then the +other, so that the blue flesh was laid bare and the little purple veins. +One more tug and the creature hung disfigured beyond all knowledge, in +its bare buttocks and its fat, bulging paunch, with its head all over +blood and its eyes sticking out. The belly and breast were cut open from +end to end and the guts removed; the gall-bladder was flung into the +cess-pool; two bits of stick, to keep the hind-legs and the skin of the +stomach apart, and the thing was done. The other was treated likewise; +and the two rabbits hung skinned and cleaned, stiffening high up on the +gable-end. + +Meanwhile mother had got supper ready: a heap of steaming potatoes +soaking in melted butter and, after that, bread-and-butter and a pan of +porridge. Horieneke, by way of a treat, got a couple of eggs and a slice +of the new cakebread; and she sat enjoying this at the small table. After +supper, the boys had to be washed and cleaned. They started undressing +here and undressing there; serge breeches and jackets flew over the +floor; and one after the other they were taken in hand by mother, beside +a kettle of water, where they were rubbed and rinsed with foaming +soap-suds. Then each was given a clean shirt; and away to bed with them! +They jumped and, with their shirt-tails waving behind them, skipped about +and smacked one another until father came along and stopped their game. +Mother had still her floor to scrub; and Horieneke read out evening +prayers while the boys knelt beside their bed. + +Now all grew still. Father smoked a pipe and took a stroll in the +moonlight through the orchard, where he had always something to look +after or to do. Indoors the broom went steadily over the floor; whole +kettlefuls of water were poured out and swept away and rubbed dry. Then +the stove was lit; and, while mother blacked the shoes, father made the +coffee. They mumbled a bit together--about to-morrow's doings, about the +children, the work, the hard times and their troublesome landlord, the +farmer of the woodside--when there came a noise from the little bedroom +and the door creaked softly. Horieneke suddenly appeared in the middle of +the floor in her little nightgown; and, before father and mother had got +over their surprise, the child was on her knees, asking: + +"Forgive me, father and mother, for all the wrong that I have done you in +my life; and I promise you now to be always good and obedient...." + +Mother was furious at first; and then, at the sight of the kneeling +figure and the sound of the tearful little voice, her anger fell and she +felt like crying. Father hated all that sentimental rubbish: + +"Come, you baggage, quick to bed!... Forgive you? What for?... Nonsense, +nonsense!" + +The child kept on weeping: + +"Father, please, it's my first communion to-morrow and we must first +receive forgiveness: Sister at school said so...." + +"The sisters at school are mad! And they'll make you mad too! To bed with +you now, d'you hear?" + +Mother could stand it no longer; she sobbed aloud, took Horieneke under +the arms and lifted her to her breast. She felt a lump in her throat and +could hardly get out her words: + +"It's all forgiven, my darling. God bless you and keep you! And now go +quick to bed; you have to be up early to-morrow." + +Horieneke put her arm over mother's shoulders and whispered softly in her +ear: + +"I have something else to ask you, mother. All the children's parents are +going to communion to-morrow: shall you too, mother?" + +"Make your heart easy, dear; it'll be all right." + +"Mother, will you call me in good time to-morrow morning?" + +"Yes, yes; go to bed." + +The house grew quiet as the grave; and soon a manifold snoring and +grunting sounded all through the bedroom and the loft. Outside it was +twilight and the blossoms shone pale white in the orchard. The crickets +chirped far and near.... + +This was the last evening and morning: when it was once more so late and +dark, everything would be over and done! All those days, all that long +array of light and darkness, of learning and repeating lessons--a good +time nevertheless--was past and gone; and, now that the great thing, +always so remote, so inaccessible, was close at hand, she was almost +sorry that the longing and the aching were to cease and she almost felt +afraid. Should she dare to sleep to-night? No. 'Twas so good to lie awake +thinking; and she had still so much praying to do: her heart was still +far from ready and prepared. + +"O God, I am a poor little child and Thou art willing to come to me.... +Dear Virgin Mary, make my soul as pure as snow, so that it may become a +worthy dwelling-place for thy Divine Son." + +The white dress now lay spread out upon the best bed in the big bedroom +and her wreath too, with all the rest. She already saw herself clad in +all that white wealth like a little queen, standing laughing through her +golden curls! She felt the little knots of paper on her head; to-morrow +they would be released and would open into a cloud of ringlets; and the +people, who would all look at her; and aunt.... Now just to recite her +words once more for to-morrow in church.... And that pretty picture which +the priest would give her.... Was she sure that nothing was forgotten? +Just let her think again: and her candle-cloth? Yes, that was there +too.... What could the time be? The clock was ticking like a heavy chap's +footstep downstairs in the kitchen. It was deathly quiet everywhere. Now +she would lie and wait until the clock struck, so that she might know how +long it would be before it grew light. Her eyes were so tired and all +sorts of things were walking higgledy-piggledy up the white wall.... + +Then, in the solemn stillness, the nightingale began to sing. Three clear +notes rang out from the echoing coppice; it was like the voice of the +organ in a great church. It sounded over the fields, to die away in a +low, hushed fluting. Now, louder and staccato, like a spiral stair of +metallic sound, the notes rang out, high and low alternately, in +quickening time, a running, rustling and rioting, with long-drawn +pipings, wonderfully sweet, that rose in a storm of bell-like tinklings, +limpid as water, with a strength, a violence, a precision exceeding the +music of a hundred thousand tipsy carrillons pealing through the silent +night. And now again the notes were softly weaving their fabric of sound: +bewitchingly quiet, intimately sweet, musingly careful, like the music of +tiny glass bells; and once more they were louder and again they fainted +away, borne on the still wind like the murmur of angels praying. + +The blue velvety canopy was stretched on high, studded with twinkling +stars; and all about the country-side the trees stood white. On the +winding paths, among the pinks, anemones, guelder-roses and +jasmine-bushes, walked stately white figures in trailing garments, with +wreaths of white roses and yellow flowers gleaming on their golden +tresses, which they shook out over their white shoulders. All the world +was one pure vista full of blue, curling mist and fresh, untasted +fragrance. A soft melody of dreamy song was wafted through the air. And +Horieneke saw herself also playing in that great garden, an angel among +angels. Ropes hung stretched from tree to tree; and they swung upon them +and rocked with streaming hair and fluttering garments, floating high +above the tree-tops, light as the wind, in a shower of white blossoms. +They sang all together, with those who lay on the beds of white lilies +and violets: a song of unheard sweetness. Not one spoke of leaving off or +going home; they only wished to stay like that, without rain or darkness; +there was a continual happy frolic, a glad gaiety, in those spacious +halls where, in spite of the singing and the music, all things were yet +so deliciously, languidly still, still as the moonlight. + +Yonder, by the dark wood, the steady swish of a sickle was heard; and +this made a fearsome noise in the tenuous night. A gigantic man stood +there; his head looked over the trees and his wide-stretched arms swung +the sickle and a pick-hook; and, stroke by stroke, the foliage and the +flowers fell beneath his hands as he passed. The singing gradually +ceased, the swings fell slack and the frolic changed into an anxious +waiting, as before thunder. One and all stood in terror and dismay +staring at that giant approaching. The blue of the sky darkened and the +angels vanished, like lamps that were blown out. The flowers were faded +and the whole plain lay mown flat, like a stricken wilderness; and that +fellow with his sickle, who now drew himself up to contemplate his +finished work, was ... her father! + +She started awake and trembled with fright. It had been so beautiful that +she sighed at the thought of it; and outside was the twilight of +advancing dawn. It was daylight! Sunday! She jumped out of bed in a flash +and pulled open the window. The trees were there still and the flowers +too and all the white of last night, but so pale, dim and colourless +beside the glittering brightness of a moment ago ... and never an angel! +She gave a sigh. The sky was hung with a thick grey shroud; and in the +east a long thin cleft had been torn in the grey; and behind that, deep +down, was a dull-golden glow, gleaming like a great brazen serpent. A +keen wind shook the cherry-blossom and blew a cold, fragrant air into the +window. All the green distance lay dead as yet, half-hidden, asleep in +the morning mist; and neither man nor beast was visible, nor even a +wreath of smoke from a chimney. + +What was the time? She threw a wrap over her shoulders, which were +getting chilled, and went carefully down the bedroom steps. It was still +dark in the kitchen. She groped, found and lit a sulphur match and lifted +the flame to the clock. Four! She was so much used to seeing the hands in +that position in the afternoon and they now looked so silly that she +stood for a long time thinking, foolishly, what she ought to do: call +mother or creep back into bed and sleep. She felt so uncomfortably cold +and it was still so dark: she went up again and stood looking out. + +The birds twittered in the trees and the wide cleft in the east yawned +wider and wider. Was it going to be a fine day after all? Everything for +which she had waited so long was there now and so strange, so totally +different from what she had imagined: instead of that leaping gladness +there was something like fear and nervous trembling; she could have wept; +and, merely for the sake of doing something, she went down on her knees +beside the bed and said the prayers which she had learnt by heart: + +"Lord God, I give Thee my heart. Deign to make Thyself a worthy dwelling +in it and to abide there all the days of my life...." + +The clock struck; it was half-past four and no one yet astir. + +Now she went downstairs again. In the room lay her white dress, her +wreath, her prayer-book: it was all ready; if only somebody would wake! +Dared she call? They lay sleeping side by side: father was snoring, with +his mouth open, and mother's fat stomach and breasts rose and fell +steadily. + +"Mother!" + +Nobody heard. + +"Mother!!" + +And then she pulled at the coverlet and cried repeatedly, a little louder +each time: + +"Mother! Mother!! Mother!!!" + +That was better. Mother turned on her side, lifted her head and rubbed +her eyes with her hands. + +"Mother, it's nearly five; we shall be late!" + +Mother, drunk with sleep, kept on looking at the window and yawning: + +"Yes, child, I'll come at once." + +She got up and came out in her short blue petticoat stretched round her +fat hips, with an open slit behind, and her loose jacket and wooden shoes +on. She lit the stove. Horieneke read her morning prayers. Mother's heavy +shoes clattered over the floor outside and in again; she put on and took +off the iron pots with the goats' food, drew fresh water and made the +coffee. + +Mam'selle Julie was coming along the rough road. + +"You're in good time!" cried mother from the doorway. + +"Good-morning, Frazie. Up already, Horieneke? It'll be a fine day +to-day." + +She took off her hooded cloak, put on a clean apron and turned up her +sleeves. Horieneke was washed all over again while mother poured out the +coffee. Then they sat down. Horieneke kept her lips tight-closed so as +not to forget that she must remain fasting. She slowly pulled on her new +stockings and stretched out her hand to the bench on which the white +slippers lay. She took off her sleeping-jacket and her little skirt and +stood waiting in her shift. When the tongs were well warmed, Mam'selle +Julie seized the little paper twists in the hot iron and opened them out. +From each fold a curled tress came rolling down; and at last, combed out +and bound up with blue-silk ribbon, it all stood about her head in a +light mist of pale-gold silk, like a wreath of light around her bright, +fresh face. Her dirty shift was dragged off downwards and mother fetched +the new scapular and laid it over the child's bare shoulders. The +first-communion chemise was of fine white linen and trimmed with crochet +lace. Julie took out the folds and drew it over Horieneke's head. Then +came white petticoats, bodices and skirts. The child stood passively, in +the middle of the floor, with her arms wide apart to give free room to +Julie, who crept round on her knees, sticking in a pin here, smoothing a +crease there. Mother fetched the things as they were wanted. There was a +constant discussing, approving, asking if it wouldn't meet or if it hung +too wide, all in a whisper, so as not to wake the boys. + +There came a scrabbling overhead and down the stairs; and, before any one +suspected it, Bertje stood dancing round Horieneke in his shirt. + +"Jesu-Maria! Oo, you rascal!" + +And the corset which mother held in her hand was sent flying up the +stairs after the boy, who in three jumps was gone and up above. The +others lay laughing in bed when Bertje told them that he had seen +Horieneke all in white, with a bunch of red-gold curls round her head, +and that mother had thrown something at him. + +The corset was laced up and Mam'selle Julie told the child to hold her +breath to let them get her body tighter. Now for the white frock: the +skirt was slipped down over her head until it stood out in light, stiff +pleats; the white bodice encased her body firmly and stuck out above the +shoulders, its puffed sleeves trimmed with little white-satin bows and +ribbons at every seam and fold. Over it hung the veil, which shrouded her +as in a white cloud. The wreath was put on, looked at from a distance and +put on again until it was right at last, with the glittering beads in +front, shining among the auburn curls, and the long streamer of threaded +lilies of the valley behind, nestling in the tresses on her back. The +white gloves, her prayer-book and candle-cloth, a few pennies in her bead +purse; and 'twas done. + +The child was constantly twisted and turned and examined from every side. +She did not know herself in all her splendour: the Horieneke of +yesterday, in her blue bird's-eye bib and black frock was a poor thing +compared with the present Horieneke, something far removed from this +white apparition, something quite forgotten. She stood stiff as a post in +the middle of the kitchen, without daring to look round or stir; she felt +so light and airy in those rustling folds and pleats and all that muslin +that she seemed not to touch the ground. She did not know what to do with +her arms, how to tread with her feet; and her thoughts were straying: the +part she had to play was all gone out of her head; she would be as fine +as this all day long, but oh, so uncomfortable! + +Mother put on stockings and shoes, donned her cap, turned her apron, +threw her cloak over her shoulders; she called her husband; then: + +"There, boys, we're off; don't forget your drop of holy water, all of +you!" + +The door fell back into the latch with a bang; and the three of them were +on the road. A gust of wind laden with white blossoms out of the orchard +greeted them. Horieneke held the tips of her veil closed against the wind +and stepped out like a little maid in a procession. The two women came +behind and had no eyes for anything but Horieneke: the fall of those +white folds, the whirling of the veil and the dancing of the lilies of +the valley in the auburn locks. They said nothing. + +The sky still hung grey with its yawning cleft widening in the east; and +out of it there beamed a sober, uncertain light, which fell upon +everything with a dead gleam: it was like noonday in winter. Over the +fields and in the trees drifted thin wisps of mist, like floating blue +veils blown on by the wind. Below in the meadow the cock had started +crowing amid his flock of peacefully pecking pullets. It was very fresh, +rather cold indeed, out on the high road. + +All the little paths led to the church; and in every direction, along the +flat fields, came people in their very best, with little white maids. The +wind played in their white veils and set them waving and flapping like +wet flags. + +"The children'll have good weather," said Mam'selle Julie; and, a little +later, to Horieneke, "What are you going to ask of Our Lord now, dear?" + +"Oh, so much, so much, Mam'selle Julie! I myself hardly know.... For +father and mother and all the family and that I may always be a good girl +and stay at home with them and not fall among wicked people and that we +may all live a long time and go to Heaven...." + +"And that the harvest may succeed and we be able to pay the rent ... and +for the farmer ... and that father may keep in health and be fit to +work," mother ordered. + +They reached the village. Mother remained waiting among the folk in the +street; Horieneke, with the other youngsters, went through the +school-gates where their wax tapers stood burning above the bunches of +gold flowers and leaves shining in the warm light. The children looked at +one another's clothes, whispered in one another's ears what theirs had +cost and wrangled as to which looked the prettiest. The boys vied with +one another in showing their bright pennies and their steel watch-chains. + +The procession filed out: first the acolytes, in scarlet, with gleaming +crucifix, brass candle-sticks and censer, followed by boys and girls +symbolically dressed, a lilting dance of flags and banners in brilliant +colours. Next came the priest, in a gorgeous vestment stiff with silk and +silver thread and gold tracery; and, in two rows, on either side of the +street, preceded by four little angels with gold wings, the +first-communicants, really such on this occasion, in their proper +clothes, with the great wax tapers in their white-gloved hands and a glow +in their faces and laughter in their eyes. All the people crowded after +them, through the street to the church. The bells rang out, the priest +sang with the sacristan and the whole procession triumphantly entered the +wide church-doors. There was a mighty stamping and pushing to get near +and to see the children sitting in straight rows on the front benches of +the nave. The girls settled in their clothes and the boys looked down at +their stiff, wide cloth breeches and their new shoes, or shoved their +fingers up their noses or into their tight collar-bands. The organ droned +out a mighty prelude; the priest, all in gold, stood at the altar; the +ceremony began; the people were silent and prayed over their +prayer-books. + +The sun appeared! And green and red and yellow shafts of light slanted +through the stained-glass panes and mingled with the blue +incense-wreaths. They made the corners of the brasswork shine and brought +smiles to the faces of the saints in their niches. A splash of gold fell +on the curly heads of the children, dark and fair; and tiny rays flashed +upon the gilt edges of their prayer-books. The congregation prayed +diligently and the full voices sang the joyful _Gloria in excelsis_ with +the organ. + +After the Gospel, the priest hung up his chasuble on the stand and +mounted the pulpit. After a noisy shifting of chairs and dragging of feet +and coughing, the people sat still, with their faces turned to the +priest. He began by reading out the notices in a snuffling tone: the +intentions of the masses for the ensuing week; the names of those about +to be married or lately deceased. Then he waited, cast his eyes over that +level multitude of raised heads, pulled up his white sleeves and turned +his face towards the children. His drawling voice wished them +_proficiat_. + +It was the first time in their lives that the youngsters saw that face +turned expressly towards them from a pulpit and also the first time that +they listened to the sermon with attention. They kept their eyes fixed on +the priest so as not to lose a word. The great day had arrived; a few +moments more and they would be completing the solemn task, they, small +children, the task that was denied to the pure angels in heaven. + +"And that work must be the foundation on which all your future life is +based. Your souls are now so clean, so pure, they are shining like clear +water and are quite spotless. For years we have taught and instructed and +prepared you in order to teach your virgin hearts, this day, now, in this +beautiful chapel, to receive that strengthening food, that miracle of +God's love. Remember it always: this is the happiest day of your lives! +You are still innocent and about to receive the Bread that raises the +dead, cleanses sinners and purifies the fallen. You are still in your +first youth, without experience of life, and are already allowed to +approach the Holy Table and share the strengthening food that supports +men and women in the trials of life. This also is the propitious moment, +the mighty hour in which Our Lord can refuse you nothing that you ask +Him. So make use of it, ask Him much, ask Him everything: for your +parents and your masters, who have done so much for you, for your +pastors, your village and especially for yourselves, that He may keep you +from sin and continue to dwell in your hearts and allow you to grow up +into stout champions of the faith and of your religion. It is the +happiest day of your lives. You are here now, to-day, with your bright, +clear eyes, young and beautiful as angels; we have watched over you, +sheltered you against all that could have harmed or offended your +innocence, far from the corrupt world of whose existence you have not +even known. But to-morrow you will enter the wide world, with only your +weak flesh to fight against life's dangers: depravity, falsehood, lies +and sin. Now life will begin for you, now for the first time will you be +called upon to fight, to show courage and to stand firm. How many of +those who once sat where you are now sitting and who were pure and +innocent as yourselves have now, alas, become lost sinners, Judases who +have rejected their God, devils as roaring lions going about seeking whom +they may devour! Be strong, listen to your good parents: it is to them +alone that you will have to listen henceforth...." + +He turned round to the other side and, continuing with the same rise and +fall in his voice, the same gestures of his thin right arm, with the +flowing white sleeve, and the same movement of his sharp profile high up +above the congregation, he began once more: + +"To you, fathers and mothers, I also wish a cordial _proficiat_; for you +also this is a glad and memorable day. How long is it not since you were +kneeling there! And yet that day always lingers in your memory. Since +that time you have been plunged into the world, have had to struggle and +have perhaps fallen and more than once have known your courage fail you. +Now your children are sitting there! For years you have left them to our +care and to-day we give them back to you, instructed, enriched and +supplied with all that they can need to pass onward. You receive them +this day from our hands pure and innocent as on the day of their baptism. +It is for you henceforth to preserve and to maintain that virtue and +purity in them; it is for you to bring up these children so that later +they may be exemplary Christians. See to it that your own conduct edifies +them: it is according to you and all your actions that they will order +their lives and take example. Admonish them in good season and chastise +them when necessary: 'He that spareth the rod hateth his son,' says the +Holy Ghost. And keep your eyes open, for God will ask an account of your +stewardship and will reward or punish you according as you have brought +them up well or ill. A good son, a virtuous daughter are the joy and the +comfort of their parents." + +The congregation were greatly impressed. The mothers wept: the priest was +such a good, worthy old man, whom they had known all their lives; and +they liked hearing him say all those beautiful things: that reference to +their own childhood and to their youngsters, whom they now saw sitting +there so good and saintlike, waiting to receive Our Lord, brought the +tears to their eyes; and it did them good to feel their hearts throb, to +feel that lump in their throats; and they let the tears flow: after all, +it was from gladness. + +The organ played softly and the changing tones mingled with the blue +wreaths that ascended from the sanctuary in a fragrant cloud, lingering +over the congregation. The celebrant offered the bread and wine to Our +Father in Heaven. And all this took time; the children were tired by +their tense concentration; their prayers had all been said two and three +times over; and they were now vacantly waiting and longing, looking at +their clothes, at the stained-glass windows in the choir or St. Anne in +her crimson cloak, or counting the stars that were painted high up on the +stone ceiling. + +The altar-bell tinkled twice and thrice in succession; the _Sanctus_ was +sung; and after that the organ was silenced. A hush fell over the +congregation and all heads dropped, as though mown down, in deep +reverence: not one dared look up. The priest genuflected, the bell +sounded repeatedly and, amid that great hush, thrice three notes of the +great church-bell droned through the church and rang out over the distant +fields. Outside, it was all blue and sunshine and silence; everything was +bowed in anxious expectation; it was as though there were nothing erect +and alive in the world except that little church and that bell. In the +farthest houses in the village the mothers were now kneeling and beating +their breasts, with their thoughts on Our Lord. The God of Heaven and +Earth had descended and was filling all things with His awful presence. +Carefully, slowly, almost timidly came the _Adoro te_; and the people +little by little raised their heads and sighed, as though relieved and +still quite awed by what had happened or was going to happen. + +And now the ceremony began. After the _Agnus Dei_ and the three tinkles +of the bell at the _Domine, non sum dignus_, the four little angels came +with hands folded and heads bowed, with their gold-paper wings carefully +furled behind them, and walked reverently to the front of the church. +Horieneke stood up, took her great sheet of paper and, in her clear +voice, read out her piece so that all the congregation could hear, though +she stopped to find her words at times and faltered here and there +because her heart was beating so violently and she had such a catch in +her throat: + +"Then Thou wilt come to us, Almighty God! To us poor little sheep who, +hardly knowing what we did, have so often offended Thee. We are not +worthy to receive Thee, unless Thou say but the word that our souls may +be healed. And, as Thou hast ordained, we will, in fear and confidence, +approach Thee as poor little children approaching their kind Father. We +have nothing wherewith to repay the great love which Thou bearest us; we +are needy in all things; and all things must come from Thee. We are still +very young and have already gone astray, but we repent and are heartily +sorry to have caused Thee any grief. And, now that Thou art so +unspeakably good to us, we wish to be wholly loyal to Thee and to belong +to Thee with heart and soul; dispose of us henceforth as Thy servants and +we shall be filled with joy. Come then, O Jesus; our hearts pant with +longing, our souls are now prepared; we have begged Mary, our dear +Mother, our guardian angels and our blessed patron saints to make us +worthy habitations for Thy majesty." + +The silence was so great that one could hear a leaf fall. The +congregation wriggled where they knelt to see and held their breaths, +full of expectation. The nun struck her key on the back of her chair. Two +little angels went, step by step, to the communion-bench and the first +row of boys and girls followed. The little ones now looked very serious. +They held their heads bowed and their hands clasped; and their faces +shone with heavenly light and silent inner happiness. Horieneke was now +like a white flower; her transparent little waxen face, her delicately +chiselled nose and closed pink lips looked so angelic under her sunny +curls and the white of her veil. The children approached the choir +silently and slowly: 'twas as though they were floating. At the second +tap of the key, they knelt; one more ... and their hands were under the +lace communion-cloth. From the organ-loft the _Magnificat_ resounded. The +priest took the ciborium, gave the benediction and with stately tread +descended the altar-steps. In his slender fingers he held the Sacred +Host, that small white disk which stood out sharply above the silver +vessel against the rich violet of his chasuble. The children's heads by +turn dropped backwards and fell upon their breasts, in ecstacy. The bells +rang out; the choristers shouted their hymn of praise; the priest +murmured: + +"_Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christ ..._" + +The key tapped; and the angels kept leading new rows to the Holy Table +and bringing the others away again. And the great work went on in solemn +silence amid all that jubilant music. The congregation were lifted up, +their hearts throbbed and their tears welled with happiness and +contentment. + +The last row had come back; and they were all now kneeling in adoration +when the head boy read out: + +"What shall we return Thee, O Lord, for what Thou hast done for us! But +now we were mute, prostrate in adoration, amazed and awed by Thy mighty +presence in our hearts, bowed down in the dust of our humility; now at +last we dare raise our heads and thank Thee. We beseech Thee that Thou +wilt continue to dwell in our hearts, to reign there and to pour forth +Thy mercies there abundantly. We are frail creatures; and, were it not +that Thou, in Thy compassion, dost uphold us, we should continually and +at every moment fall and succumb in the rude gusts of life. We put our +trust in Thee and we know that Thou wilt succour us and that we shall +enter the life everlasting. Amen." + +It was over; and the congregation looked round impatiently to see how +they could get out of church quickest. Their tears were dried and their +thoughts were once more fixed on clothes, home, coffee and cakebread. +After the last sign of the cross, the men crowded outside; the mothers +sought their youngsters, kept them out of the crush for fear of accidents +and marched triumphantly through the two rows of sightseers that stood on +either side of the church-door. Now was the moment for showing-off, for +congratulation and admiration on every side, till the children did not +know which way to turn or what to say; and they were very hungry. All now +went with their friends to the tavern for a drop of Hollands; and from +there mother went home with two or three wives of the neighbourhood. + +Horieneke walked behind. She was all by herself and wrapped in +contemplation: that great miracle was now over, all of a sudden, and she +could hardly believe it. Instead of enjoying all the happiness for which +she had waited so long, her heart was full of distress and she felt +inclined to cry. She had been so uneasy in church, so shy and frightened: +there was the reading of that paper before all those people; and directly +after, amid all the confusion, Our Lord had come. Hastily and very +distractedly she had said her prayers, had spoken, asked and prayed and +then waited for the miracle, waiting for Our Lord, Who now, living in +her, would speak. And nothing had happened, nothing: she had done her +very best to listen amidst the bustle outside and around her ... and yet +nothing, nothing! Meanwhile she had raised her head to breathe ... and +the people were leaving and she had to go with them: it was finished! It +had all been so matter-of-fact, just like the communion-practice of +yesterday, when she had merely swallowed a morsel of bread. Her heart +beat in perplexity and she feared that she had made an unworthy +communion. + +The wind blew under her veil, which flew up in the air behind her. She +was so pure, so unspotted in all that white; and, cudgel her brains as +she would, she could not remember any fault or sin which she had omitted +to confess. Though Our Lord had not spoken to her, He had been there all +the same and she had not heard Him because of all that was happening +around her. She ought to have been alone there, in a silent church. Even +here, outside, by the trees, would have been better. + +The wives were asked in to coffee and they stood and waited for Horieneke +at the garden-gate. Indoors everything was anyhow: Fonske was going about +in his shirt, Bertje had one leg in his breeches and Dolfke sat on the +floor, playing with Trientje. Father had made coffee and stood with the +bottles and glasses ready, looking dumbfounded at his child, now that he +saw her for the first time in her white clothes. The boys crowded round +shyly; they no longer knew their sister in this great lady; they kept +hold of one another shyly, with their fingers in their mouths; they were +unable to speak a word. Mother threw off her cloak and began cutting +currant-bread and butter. Horieneke was made to take off her veil and +gloves and a towel was fastened under her chin. The wives and youngsters +sat down. First a drop to each; all drank to the health of the little +first-communicant; they touched glasses. Father poured out and Horieneke +had to drink too: she put the stuff to her lips, pulled a wry face and +pushed the glass away. The boys dipped and soaked the bread in their +coffee; and the wives started talking about their young days and about +clothes and the old ways and the fine weather and the fruit-crop. Mother +did nothing but cut fresh slices of bread-and-butter, which were snatched +away and gobbled up on every side. + +"Eat away!" said father. + +The hostess of "The Four Winds" had been unable to take her eyes off +Horieneke all through mass. + +"Damned pretty, like a little angel!" said Stiene Sagaer. + +"And a curly head of hair like a ball of gold! It made one's mouth water! +And that wreath!" squealed the farmer's wife from the Rent Farm. + +"Mam'selle Julie had a hand in it." + +"And such pretty manners! Well, dear, Our Lord will be mighty pleased +with you." + +"And how nicely she read that piece!" said Stiene. "My blood crept when I +heard it. Look here, Wanne Vandoorn was sitting beside me; and, you can +take my word, the good soul couldn't control herself and we both cried +till we sobbed." + +"I felt it too," said mother. "Such things are cruel hearing. And the +priest...." + +"Ah, he knows how to talk, that holy man! He's a pure soul." + +"You'll regret it all your days, Ivo, that you weren't there to see it." + +Father nodded and took another slice of bread-and-butter. + +"It'll take me all the week to tell about it at home," said the farmer's +wife. + +The boys sat making fun among themselves of Stiene Sagaer's crooked nose +and the squeaky voice of the farmer's wife. When the wives had done +eating, they stood up and went. + +When they had gone some little way, they turned round again and cried +against the wind: + +"It's going to be fine to-day, Ivo!" + +"And warm!" piped the farmer's wife. "Beautiful weather!" + +They went down the sand-path, each wending her own way home. + +The boys were now dressed and father, stripped to the waist, went out to +wash his face under the trees at the pump. His freshly-ironed white shirt +was brought out and his shiny boots and his blue smock-frock and +black-silk cap. After much fuss and turning and seeking, he got ready and +the boys too. Mother was busy with the baby in the cradle; Horieneke was +showing her new holy pictures to Trientje; and Bertje and the other boys +had gone out to play in the road. The bells rang again, this time for +high mass. Many small things had still to be rummaged out, clothes to be +pinned and buttoned; and the boys, with their Sunday penny in their +pocket, marched up the wide road to high mass. + +The wind had dropped and the sun blazed in the clear blue of the sky, +which hung full of unravelled white cloud-threads, showing gold at the +edges. A gay light lay over all the young green; the huge fields were +full of waving corn, which swayed and bowed and straightened again, +shining in streaks as under clear, transparent water. The trees stood +turned to the sun, as though painted, so bright that from a distance one +saw all the leaves, finely drawn, gleaming against the shadows that lay +below. Here they stood in close hedges on either side of the road, trunk +after trunk, making a dark wall with a dense roof of leafage, which +presently opened out in a rift at the turn of the road, where four +tree-trunks stood out against the sky; and then the trees turned away to +the left and were drawn up in two new rows, which stretched out beside +the road right across the plain. Here and there a few other trees stood +lonely in the fields, gathered in small clumps, with the light playing +between them; and far away at the edge of the bright expanse, in a wealth +of mingled green, amid the tufted foliage with its changing hues and +shadows, the little pointed church showed above the uneven, red-tiled +roofs. It was all like a restful dream, made up of Sunday peace. Above +and around, all the air was sounding with the gay tripping music of the +three bells as they rang together: a laughing song in the glad sunshine, +summoning from afar the people who came from every side, clad in their +best. The boys, in their new red-brown, fustian breeches, standing stiff +with the tailor's crease in them, and their thick, wide jackets and shiny +hats, held father's hand or skipped round Horieneke, whom they could not +admire enough. In the village square they hid themselves and went to the +booth to see how they could best spend their pennies. + +The people stayed in the street, looking about, and did not go into the +church until the little bell tolled out its tinkling summons and the last +little maid had been looked at and had disappeared. Then the men knocked +out their pipes against the tips of their shoes and sauntered in through +the wide church-door. + +The incense still hung about the aisles and the sun sifted its golden +dust through the stained-glass windows right across the church. The +congregation stood crowded and crammed together behind their chairs, +looking at the gilt of the flowers and at the great mountain of votive +candles that were burning before the altar. The organ had all its pipes +wide open; and music streamed forth in great gusts that resounded in the +street outside. The priest sang and rough men's voices chanted the +responses with the full power of their throats. And the high mass +proceeded slowly with its pomp of movement and song. The congregation +prayed from their books or, overcome by the heat, sat yawning or gazing +at the incense-wreaths or started nodding on their chairs. The saints +stood stock-still, smiling from their pedestals and proud in their high +day finery. When the singing ceased, one heard through the dreamy murmur +of the organ the spluttering of the burning candles and the clatter on +the brass dish of the sacristan making the collection. The priest once +more mounted the pulpit and, with the same gestures and action, delivered +the same admonitions as earlier in the morning. Again the people sat +listening and weeping; others slept. More organ-music and singing and +praying and the mass came to an end and the priest turned to the +congregation and gave the blessing. They streamed out of church in a +thick crowd and stood in the road again to see the youngsters pass. Then +all of them made their several ways to the taverns. The +first-communicants had to call on aunts and cousins and friends; and the +poorer children went to show their clothes and asked for pennies. + +Horieneke and father and the brothers went straight home to await the +visitors. Before they reached the door, they smelt the butter burning in +the pan, the roast and the vegetables. The stove roared softly; and on +the flat pipe stood earthen and iron pots and pans simmering and fretting +and sending up clouds of steam to the rafters. Amidst it all, mother +hurried to and fro in her heavy wooden shoes. Her body still waggled in +her wide jacket and blue petticoat. Her face shone with grease and +perspiration. She puffed and sighed in the intolerable heat. The blue +chequered cloth lay spread on the table; and all around were the plates +with the freshly tinned spoons and forks and little beer-glasses.[8] +Outside, the boys sat in the top of the walnut-tree, waiting and peering +for any one coming. Father had taken off his blue smock and turned up his +shirt-sleeves and now went to see to his birds. That was his great hobby +and his work on Sunday every week. All the walls were hung with cages: in +that big one were two canaries, pairing; in the next, a hen-canary +sitting on her eggs; and in a little wire castle lived a linnet and a +cock-canary and three speckled youngsters. The finches were in a long row +of darkened cages and moulting-boxes. When he put out his hands, the +whole pack started singing and whistling; they sprang and fluttered +against the bars and pecked at his fingers. He took the cages down one by +one, put them on the table and whistled and talked to his birds, cleaned +the trays and filled the troughs with fresh water and seed. The +canary-bird got a lump of white sugar and the linnet half an egg, because +of her young ones. Then he stood and watched them washing their beaks and +wings and splashing in the water, pecking at their troughs now full of +seed and at their sugar and cheerfully hopping on and off their perches. +Then, when they were all hung up again in their places on the wall, they +all started whistling together till the kitchen rang with it. The baby +screamed in its cradle. Trientje cried and mother stamped across the +floor in her heavy wooden shoes. + +[8] The West-Flemings brew a beer so extremely strong that it is + served in quite small glasses, not more than half the size of an + ordinary tumbler. + +"Hi, mates, I see something!" Fonske called from the walnut-tree. + +The boys stretched their necks and so did father: it was jogging along in +the distance, coming nearer and nearer. + +"Uncle Petrus and Aunt Stanse in the dog-cart!" + +They slithered out of the tree like cats and ran down the road as fast as +they could. The others now plainly heard the wheels rattling and saw the +great dogs tugging and leaping along as if possessed. High up in the car +sat uncle, with his tall hat on his round head, bolt upright in his +glossy black-broadcloth coat; and beside him broad-bodied Aunt Stanse, +with coloured ribbons fluttering round her cap and a glitter of beads +upon her breast. In between them sat Cousin Isidoor, half-hidden, waving +his handkerchief. They came nearer still, jolting up and down through the +streaks of shade and sunlight between the trees. Uncle Petrus flourished +his hand, pushed his hat back and urged the dogs on; aunt sat with her +face aflame and the drops of sweat on her chubby cheeks, laughing, with +her hands on her hips, because of the shaking of her fat stomach. The +dogs barked and leapt right and left at the boys. Petrus jumped nimbly +out of the cart, ran along the shafts and led the team with a stylish +turn out of the road, through the gate, into the little garden, where it +pulled up in front of the door. The dogs stood still, panting and lolling +out their tongues. Mother was there too and cried, "Welcome," and took +Doorke under the armpits and lifted him out of the cart. Aunt began by +handing out baskets, parcels and bundles. Then, sticking out her fat +legs, in their white stockings, she climbed out of the cart and looked +round at the youngsters, who already stood hankering to know what was in +the basket. + +"Well, bless me, Frazie, I needn't ask you how it goes with the chickens! +There's a whole band of them and all sound and well: just look at them! +Oh, you fatty!" And she pinched Bertje's red cheeks. "And you too, +Frazie." + +"Look at the state I'm in!" said mother, sticking her hands under the +apron stretched tight across her fat stomach and looking down at her bare +legs. "Such a heap to do, no time to dress yet." + +"You're all right as you are, Frazie; you've no need to hide your legs +nor t'other either: you've a handsome allowance of both," said Uncle +Petrus, chaffingly. "I'd like a drop of water for the dogs, though." + +Father sent the bucket toppling down the well and turned the handle till +it rose filled. The dogs stuck their heads into the bucket and lapped and +gulped greedily. Cousin stood staring bashfully amid all those +peasant-lads and all that jollity, while Bertje, Fonske and the others +too did not come near, but stood looking at the little gentleman with his +fine clothes and his thin, peaky face; they trotted and turned, whispered +to one another, went outside and came back again, laughed and said +nothing. + +"But the first-communicant! Where's Horieneke?" asked Stanse, suddenly. + +From the little green arbour, in between the trees, a golden curly-head +came peeping, followed by a little white body and little Trientje too, +holding a great bunch of yellow daffodils in her hand. Stanse stuck out +her arms in the air: + +"Oh, you little butterfly! Come along here, you're as lovely as an +angel!" + +And she lifted Horieneke from among the flowers, right up to her beaded +breast, and pressed her thick lips to the child's forehead with a +resounding smack. + +"Godmother, godmother," whimpered Trientje. + +"Yes, you too, my duck!" + +And the child forthwith received two fat kisses on its little cheeks. + +The dogs were now unharnessed and father and Petrus had gone for a stroll +in the orchard. The boys stood crowding against the table, looking at +aunt undoing her parcels. In one were sweet biscuits, in another +brandy-balls, peppermints, pear-drops and toffy. All this was carefully +divided into little stacks and each child was given his share, with the +strict injunction not to eat any before noon. Fonske hid his in the +drawer, next to the canary-seed, Dolfke his in the cupboard and Bertje +shoved his portion into his pockets. It was not long before three or four +of them were fighting like thieves and robbers, while Stanse and Frazie +went to look at the baby, which lay sleeping quietly in the cradle. + +First one more drop of cherry-gin apiece and then to dinner. The soup +stood ready ladled out, steaming in the plates. Horieneke sat demurely in +the middle, next to Doorke, with uncle and aunt on either side and, lower +down, father and all the children: mother had to keep moving to and fro, +waiting on them, snatching a mouthful now and again betweenwhiles. When +every one was served and Trientje had stammered out her Our Father aloud, +father once more stood up, as the master of the house, and said: + +"You are all of you welcome and I wish you a good appetite." + +The spoons began to clatter and the tongues to wag: uncle praised the +delicious leek-soup, so did aunt; and then came endless questions from +every side about the news of the district and all that had happened +during the last ten or twelve years, ever since Frazie had married and +left her home. + +The children sat staring with wide-open eyes, now at their plates, now at +aunt with her fat cheeks and her diamond cross that hung glittering at +the end of a gold chain on her enormous breast; they counted the rings +that were spitted on her fingers right up to the knuckles; they gazed at +her earrings.... As the soup went down, the faces began to shine and +mother pulled at her jacket and complained of the dreadful heat. Father +pushed up the window and opened the back-door. The wind and the scented +air, with pollen from the cherry-trees, now blew across the table and +played refreshingly in their necks and ears. Mother kept on running about +and serving: it was hot carrots now and boiled beef. Father took the +flowered milk-jug and filled the little tumblers with beer. Slices of +meat and fat were cut off with the big carving-knife and distributed; +each received his plateful of glistening carrots; and the forks went +bravely to work. After that, the great iron pot was set on the table, +with the rabbits, which, roasted brown, lay outstretched in the +appetizing, simmering gravy that smelt so good; and beside it a dish of +steaming potatoes. The little tumblers were emptied and filled again; in +between the loud talking you could hear the crunching of the teeth and +the cracking of the bones; the children sat smeared to their eyes and +picked the food in their plates with their hands. Uncle's eyes began to +twinkle and he started making jokes, so much so that aunt had every +moment to stop eating for laughing; then her broad head would fall +backwards and her cheeks, which bloomed like ripe peaches, creased up and +displayed two rows of gleaming ivory teeth. It all turned to a noisy +giggling; and the general merriment could be heard far away in the other +houses. + +Uncle Petrus enjoyed teasing his sister and made her cry out each time he +declared that, for all her waiting at table and running about, she had +eaten more than he and Brother Ivo put together and that it was no wonder +she had grown such a body and bred such fine youngsters. The mighty din +woke the baby and started it crying loudly in its cradle. Fonske took it +out and put it in mother's lap. It was as fresh and pink as a rose-bud; +it kicked its little legs about and shoved its fists into its eyes. + +"Yes, darling, you're hungry too, I expect." + +And she unbuttoned her jacket and from behind her shift produced her +great right breast. The baby stuck its hands into that wealth of +whiteness, seized the proffered nipple in its mouth and started greedily +sucking. After the first eager gulps it gradually quieted, closed its +eyes and lay softly drinking, rocked on mother's heaving lap. Isidoorke +kept looking at this as at something very strange that alarmed him. +Horieneke, noticing it, held up a rabbit-leg to him and told him of those +pretty white rabbits which she had seen slaughtered yesterday. The other +youngsters had now eaten their fill and began to feel terribly bored at +table. Bertje gave Fonske a kick on the shin and they went outside +together, whispering like boys with some roguery in view. Wartje, Dolfke +and the others followed them outside. When it was all well planned, they +beckoned behind the door to Doorke; and, when the little man came out at +last: + +"Is it true, Doorke? Do you dare go among the dogs?" + +And they led him on gently by his velvet jacket, behind the house to the +bake-house, where the dogs lay blinking in the shade, with their heads +stretched on their paws. + +Doorke nodded; and, to show how well-behaved they were, he went close up +to them and stroked their backs. + +"And is it also true," asked Bertje, with mischievous innocence, "that +you know how to harness them?" + +Doorke looked surprised and again nodded yes. + +"Let's see if you dare!" + +"Hoo, hoo, Baron!" said Doorke. + +And he took the dog by the collar, put the girths on him and fastened the +traces while Fonske held up the cart. + +"And that other one too?" + +Doorke did the same with the other dog and with the third; and they were +now all three harnessed. Bertje took the cart by the shafts and drew it +very softly, without a sound, under the windows and through the little +gate into the road. The other boys bit their fingers, held their breaths +and followed on tip-toe. Then they all crept into the cart; and, when +they were comfortably seated, Bertje took the reins and: + +"Gee up!" + +Wartje struck the dogs with the handle of the whip and they leapt forward +lustily and the cart rolled along through the clouds of dust rising from +the sandy road. + +Horieneke had come up too and watched this silent sport; and she now +stood alone with Doorke, looking along the trees, where the cart was +disappearing towards the edge of the wood. When there was nothing more to +see, they both went indoors. + +Uncle and aunt and father were now talking quietly and earnestly, over +three cups of coffee. Mother still sat with the baby on her lap, where it +had fallen asleep while sucking. Aunt was constantly wiping the +glistening perspiration from her forehead; and she unbuttoned her silk +dress because she had eaten too much and her heart was beginning to +swell. + +"Shouldn't we be better out of doors?" she asked. + +Mother tucked in her breast, buttoned her jacket and laid the child +carefully in the cradle, near Trientje, who sat sleeping in her little +baby-chair. They left everything as it was: table and plates and pots and +glasses. Father and uncle filled their pipes and went outside under the +elder-tree, in the shade. The wives tucked their clothes between their +legs and lay down in the grass. Aunt had carefully rolled up her silk +skirt and was in her white petticoat. + +They now went on talking: an incessant tattle about getting children and +bringing them up, about housekeeping and about land and sand and parish +news, until, overcome by the heat and the weight of their bodies, they +let their heads fall and closed their eyes and seemed to sleep. Uncle and +father stood looking at them a little longer and then, in their white +shirt-sleeves, with their thumbs in their tight trouser-bands, went up +the narrow little path, in the blazing sun, to look at the wheat and the +flax, which were already high. + +Horieneke and Doorke were now left looking at each other. Horieneke began +to tire of this; and she took the boy by the hand and led him into the +house and up to her room. There she showed him her holy pictures on the +wall and her little statues; they sat down side by side on the bed; and +Horieneke told him the whole of her life and the doings of the last few +days, all that she had longed for and to-day's happiness. The boy +listened to her gladly; he looked at her with his big, brown eyes and sat +still closer to her on the bed. He had now to see her pretty clothes; and +they went together to the best bedroom where the veil lay and the wreath +and her prayer-book and earrings. She must next really show him what she +had looked like that morning in church; and he helped her put on the +veil, placed the wreath on her curls and then took a few steps backwards +to see. He thought her very pretty; and they smiled happily. Then +everything was taken off again; and they went hand in hand, like a +brother and sister who had not seen each other for some time, to walk in +the little flower-garden. Here they looked at every leaf and named every +flower that was about to open. When everything had been thoroughly +inspected, they sat and chatted in the box arbour, very seriously, like +grown-up people. Then they also became tired and Horieneke put her arm +over Doorke's shoulder, allowed her golden curls to play in his eyes and +in this way they walked out, down the road, towards the wood. Here they +were all alone with the birds twittering in the trees and the crickets +chirping in the grass beside the ditch. + +Everywhere, as far as they could see, was corn and green fields and +sunshine and stillness. They strolled down the long, cheerful road. +Doorke held his arm round Horieneke's tight-laced little waist and +listened to all the new things which his cousin described so prettily; +and she too felt a great delight in having this boy, with his brown eyes +and his lean shoulder-blades, beside her, listening to her and looking at +her and understanding her ever so much better than her rough little +brothers did. She would have liked to walk on all her life like this, in +that golden sunshine, telling him how she had read that beautiful prayer +in church this morning ... and about the priest's sermon ... and those +pretty angels with their gold wings, who had walked up and down so calmly +and placidly; about her dread during the communion-mass and her fear and +sorrow because Our Lord had not spoken in her little heart. And so, +talking and listening, they came to the wood. It looked so pleasant under +those pollard alders in the shade and farther on in the dark, among the +spruces, where the light filtered through in meagre rays, after that long +walk in the blinding sun. + +"Let's go in!" said Doorke and was on the point of going down the little +path that ran beside the ditch, in among the trees. + +"We mustn't!" said Horieneke; and she clutched him by the arm. + +Her face grew very serious and she wrinkled her forehead: + +"Look there!" + +And she pointed through a gap between the trees down to the valley where, +above the tall trunks, they could see the whole expanse of a big +homestead, with the long thatched roofs of stable and barn and the tiles +and slates of the house and turrets. She put her mouth to his ear and +whispered: + +"That's where the rent-farmer lives ... and he's a bad, bad man. He does +wicked things to the little girls who go into the wood; and mother says +that then they fall ill and die and then they go to Hell!" + +Doorke did not understand very well, but he saw from Horieneke's +wide-open eyes that it was serious. They sat down together on the edge of +the ditch, with their legs in the grass, played with the daisies and +listened to the thrushes gurgling deep down in the wood. They sat there +for a long time. The sun sank to the top of the oak; the sky was flecked +with white clouds which shot through the heavens in long diverging +shafts, like a huge peacock's tail upon an orange field. + +The children mused: + +"I should like to fall down dead, here and now," said Horieneke. + +Doorke looked up in surprise: + +"Why, Horieneke?" + +"Then I should be in Heaven at once." + +They again sat thinking a little: + +"Playing with the angels!... Have you ever seen angels, Doorke?" + +"Yes, in the procession, Horieneke." + +"Ah, but I mean live ones! I saw some last night, live ones; and they +were in white, Doorke, with long trains and golden hair and diamond +crowns, and they were singing in a beautiful garden!..." + +With raised eyebrows and earnest gestures of her little forefinger, she +told him all her dream of the angels and the swings and the singing and +the music ... and of father with his sickle. + +Doorke hung upon her words. + +The thrush started anew and they sat listening. + +"What will you do when you grow up, Doorke?" + +And she put her arm round the boy's neck again and looked fondly into his +eyes: + +"Will you get married, Doorke?" + +Doorke shook his head. + +"Not even to me?" + +And she looked at him with such a roguish smile that the boy felt +ashamed. Then, to comfort him, she said: + +"Nor I either, Doorke. Do you know what I'm going to do?" + +"No, Horieneke." + +"Listen, Doorke, I'll tell you all about it, but promise on your soul not +to tell anybody: Bertje, Fonske and all the rest mustn't know." + +Doorke nodded. + +"Father wanted me to go into service down there, with all those wicked +people. Then I cried for days and days and prayed to Our Lord; and mother +told father that I was dying; and then she said that I might ... Try and +guess, Doorke!" + +Doorke made no attempt to guess. Then she drew him closer to her and +whispered: + +"Mother said I might stay at home and help her ... and afterwards, when I +am grown up ... I shall become a nun, Doorke, in a convent; but first +mother must get another baby, a new Horieneke.... And you?" + +The boy didn't know. + +"And you, Doorke, must learn to be a priest; then you and I will both go +to Heaven." + +Behind them, on the road, came a noise and a rush and an outcry so great +that the children started up in fright. Look! It was Bertje and all the +little brothers in the dog-cart, which was coming back home through the +sand. When they saw cousin and Horieneke, they raised a mighty shout of +joy and stopped. Bertje stood erect and issued his commands: all the boys +must get out; he would remain sitting on the front seat, with Horieneke +and Doorke side by side behind him, between two leafy branches, like a +bride and bridegroom! Fonske cut two branches from an alder-tree and +fastened them to either side of the cart. Then they set out, amid the +shouting and cheering of the boys running in front and behind: + +"Ready?" + +"Ye-e-es!" + +The dogs gave an angry jerk forward and the cart went terribly fast and +Doorke clutched Horieneke with one hand and with the other warded off the +hanging willow-twigs that lashed their faces. + +The sun had gone down and a red light was glowing in the west, high up in +the tender blue. The air had turned cooler and a cold, clammy damp was +falling over the fields, which now lay steaming deadly still in the +rising mist that already shrouded the trees in blue and darkened the +distances. + +At the turn of the road, the children stepped out of the cart and put it +away carefully behind the bake-house, tied up the panting dogs and +sauntered into the house. + +"Father, we've been out with cousin," said Bertje. + +They had to take their coffee and their cakebread-and-butter in a hurry: +it was time to put the dogs in, said uncle. + +Doorke said they were put in. + +Frazie helped her sister on with her things: + +"You'll find the looking-glass hanging in the window, Stanse. I must go +and put on another skirt too and come a bit of the way with you." + +The boys were to stay at home; they got the rest of the sweets and were +ordered to bed at once. Horieneke was told to take off her best clothes; +it was evening and the goats had still to be fed. She went to her little +room reluctantly and could have cried because it was all over now and +because it was so melancholy in the dark. She felt ashamed when she came +down again and glanced askance at Doorke, who would think her so plain in +her week-day clothes. The boy looked at her and said nothing; then he +jumped into the cart and drove off slowly. Mother with Stanse and father +with uncle came walking behind. + +It was still light; the evening was falling slowly, slowly, as though the +daylight would never end. In the west the sky was hung with white and +gold tapestry against an orange background. On the other side, the moon, +very wan still, floated in the pale-blue all around it. Beside the bluey +trees long purple stripes of shadow now lay, with fallen clusters of +branches, on the plain. You could hardly tell if day or night were at +hand. + +Uncle and aunt were extremely pleased with their visit; uncle looked +contentedly into the distance and boasted that he had never seen such an +evening nor such fine weather so early in the year, while Frazie at each +step flung her arms into the air and stopped to say things to Stanse, +whose good-natured laugh rang out over the plain and along the road. In +front of them, Doorke, like a little black shadow, danced up and down in +his cart to the jolting of the wheels as he jogged quietly along. The +crickets chirped in the ditch; and from high up in the trees came the +dying twitter of birds about to go to sleep. + +Father wanted to drink a parting glass of beer in the Swan; Doorke could +drive along slowly. + +"Just five minutes then," said Petrus. + +There were many people in the inn and much loud merriment. The new +arrivals were soon sitting among the others, staying on and listening to +all the jolly songs; and, when this had gone on for some time, they +forgot the hour and the parting. Aunt Stanse held her stomach with +laughing; she was not behindhand when the glasses had to be emptied or +when her turn came to sing a song. Amid the turmoil, the rent-farmer came +up to Frazie, took her impudently by the arm, laughingly wished her +_proficiat_ with her pretty daughter and, after slyly looking about him +for confirmation, said, half in earnest: + +"We're planting potatoes to-morrow at the Rent Farm, we shall want lots +of hands; missie may as well come too." + +And with that he went back to his game of cards. + +This time, the leave-taking was genuine. Petrus got up; and it was +good-bye till next year, when Doorke would make his first communion. + +The cart was waiting outside the door; they stepped in, uncle took the +reins. + +"A safe ride home!" + +"Thanks for the pleasant visit! And to our next merry meeting!" + +"God speed!... Good-night!" + +"Gee up!" + +The dogs sprang forward, the cart rumbled along and soon the whole thing +had become a shapeless black patch among the black trees. In the still +night they could just hear the wheels rattling over the cobbles; and then +Ivo and Frazie went home again. + +A breeze came playing through the garden, sighing now and again with a +sound as soft as silk; the moon shone upon the dark trees and its light +played like golden snow-flakes dancing and fluttering down upon the +gleaming crests of the green bushes and the milk-white plain. The air was +heavy and stifling, full of warm damp; and strong-scented gusts of fresh, +rain-laden perfumes blew across the road. + +They stepped hurriedly on the legs of their long shadows and did not +speak. There came a new rustling in the trees and a few big, cool drops +of rain pattered on the sand, one here, one there and gradually quicker. + +Ivo and Frazie hastened their pace; but, when the great drops began to +fall on them thick as hail and around them in the sand, till the rain +streaked through the air and rattled tremendously over their heads, +mother held her body with both hands to prevent its shaking, Ivo tied his +red handkerchief over his silk cap and they started running. + +"It was main hot for the time of year." + +"And the flowers smelt too strong and the thrush sang so loud." + +It went on raining: a wholesome, cleansing downpour, a slow descent in +slanting lines that glittered in the moonlight, bringing health to the +earth. The air was fragrant with the wet grass and the white flowers: it +was like a rich garden. At home, everything was put away, the table +cleared and wiped; the lamp was alight and all the doors open. The boys +were in bed. Horieneke had read evening prayers to them and then hurried +to her little room, to be alone; and there she had lain thinking of all +that had happened during that long day: her jaws ached from the constant +smiling; and she felt dead-tired and sad. + +Father took off his wet blouse and mother stirred up the fire: they would +have one more cup of coffee, with a drop of something, and then go to +bed. Ivo lit his pipe and stretched out his legs to dry beside the stove. + +They drank their coffee and listened to the steady breathing of the boys +and the dripping of the gutters on the cobbles outside. Father made a +remark or two about uncle and aunt and about their village, but got only +half-answers from his wife. Then, all of a sudden, he asked: + +"What did the farmer come and say to you?" + +Frazie sighed: + +"They're planting potatoes to-morrow and we were to go and work; and +Horieneke was to come too." + +"Ay." + +"But she'll stay here!" + +"What do you mean, stay here?" + +"Yes, she's got her work to do at home." + +"All right; but if she has to go?" + +"Don't care." + +And mother stood with her arms akimbo, looking at her husband, waiting +for his answer. + +"And if he turns us out and leaves us without work!" + +"And suppose our child comes home with a present ... from that beast of a +farmer!" + +Ivo knocked out his pipe: + +"Pooh, that could happen to her anywhere; and, after all, she won't be +tied to her mother's apron-strings all her life long!... When you live in +a man's house and eat his bread, you've got to work for it and do his +will: the master is the master. Come, let's go to bed; we've a lot to do +tomorrow." + +Suppressed sobs came from the little bedroom. Mother looked in. Horieneke +lay with her hands before her eyes, crying convulsively. + +"Well, what's the matter?" + +The child pressed her head to the wall and wept harder than ever. + +"Come along, wife, damn it! It's time that all this foolery was over, or +she'll lose her senses altogether." + +Mother grew impatient, bit her teeth: + +"Oh, you blessed cry-baby!" + +And angrily she thumped the child on the hip with her clenched fist and +left her lying there. + +"A nice thing, getting children: one'd rather bring up puppies any day!" + +She turned out the light and it was now dark and still; outside, the thin +rain dripped and the white blossoms blew from the trees and the whole air +smelt wonderfully good. In the distance, the nightingale hidden in the +wood jugged and gurgled without stopping; and it was like the pealing of +a church-organ all night long. + + + +The weather had broken up and the day dawned with a melancholy drizzle +and a cold wind. The sky remained grey, discharging misty raindrops which +soaked into everything and hung trembling like strung pearls on the +leaves of the beech-hedge and on the grass and on the cornstalks in the +fields. It was suddenly winter again. On the hilly field the people stood +black, wrapped up, with their caps drawn over their ears and their red +handkerchiefs round their necks. The hoes went up in the air one after +the other and struck the moist earth, which opened into straight furrows +from one end to the other of the field. Here wives walked barefoot, bent, +with baskets on their arm from which they kept taking potatoes and laying +them, at a foot's distance, in the open trench. In a corner of the field +stood the farmer, his big body leaning on a stick; and his dark eyes +watched his labourers. + +There, in the midst of them, was Horieneke, bent also like the others, in +her coarse workaday clothes, with a basket of seed-potatoes on her arm; +and her red-gold curls now hung, like long corkscrews, wet against her +face; and every now and then she would draw herself up, tossing her head +back to keep them out of her eyes. + + + + +VI. IN THE SQUALL + +At noon, under the blazing sun, all three started for the wood, after +blackberries. + +Trientje was in her cotton pinafore, with a straw hat on her head and a +wicker basket on her arm. Lowietje stood in his worn breeches and his +torn shirt; in his pocket he had a new climbing-cord. Each dragged +Poentje by one hand, Poentje who still went about in his little shirt +and, with his wide-straddling little bare legs, trotted on between +brother and sister. + +They went along narrow, winding foot-paths, between the cornfields, high +as a man, through the flax-meadows and the yellow blinking +mustard-flower. The sun bit into Lowietje's bare head and sent the sweat +trickling down his cheeks. + +They went always on, with their eyes fixed upon that thick crowd of blue +trees full of blithe green and of dark depths behind the farthermost +trunks. + +Poentje became tired and let himself be dragged along by his hands. When +he began to cry, they sat down in the ditch beside the corn to rest. +Trientje opened her basket and they ate up all their bread-and-butter. +Near them, in the grass, ants crept in and out of a little hole. Lowietje +poked with a stick and the whole nest came crawling out. The children sat +looking to see all those beasties swarm about and run away with their +eggs. + +All three stood up and went past the old mill, then through the meadow +and so, at last, they came to the wood and into the cool shade. On the +banks of the deep, hollowed path, it all stood thick as hail and black +with the brambleberries. Lowietje picked, never stopped picking, and put +them one by one in his mouth; and his nose and cheeks were smeared with +red, like blood. Trientje steadily picked her whole basket full and +Poentje sat playing on the way-side grass with a bunch of cornflowers. + +In the wood, everything was still: the trees stood firmly in the blaze of +the sun and the young leaves hung gleaming, without stirring. A bird sat +very deep down whistling and its song rang out as in a great church. +Turtle-doves cooed far away. Round the children's ears hummed big fat +bees, buzzing from flower to flower. When the bank was stripped, they +went deeper into the wood, Lowietje going ahead to show the way. They +crept through the trees where it twilighted and where the sun played so +prettily with little golden arrows in the leafage; from there they came +into the high pine-wood. Look, look! There were other boys ... and they +knew where birds lived! + +"Listen, Trientje," said Lowietje. "You stay here with Poentje: I'll come +back at once and bring your pinafore full of birds' eggs ... and young +ones." + +He fetched out his climbing-cord and, in a flash, all the boys were gone, +behind the trees. Trientje heard them shout and yell and, a little later, +she saw her little brother sitting high up on the slippery trunk of a +beech. She put her hands to her mouth and screamed: + +"Lo--wie!..." + +It echoed three or four times over the low shoots and against the tall +trees, but Lowietje did not hear. + +A man now came striding down the path; he carried a gun on his shoulder. +The boys had only just seen him and, on every side, they came scrambling +out of the tree-tops, slid down the trunks and darted into the underwood. +Breathless, bewildered and scared to death, Lowietje came to his sister +and, with his two hands, held the rents of his trousers together: + +"There were eight eggs there, Trientje, but the keeper came and, in the +sliding, my trousers...." + +And he let a strip fall. They were torn from end to end, from top to +bottom, in each leg. + +"Mother will be angry," said Trientje, very earnestly. + +She took some pins from her frock and fastened the tears, so that the +skin did not show. + +Suddenly fell a rumbling thunder-clap that droned through all the wood +and died away in a long chain of rough sounds. The children looked at one +another and then at the trees and the sky. All stood black now, the sun +was gone and a warm wind came working through the boughs, by gusts. It +grew dark as night and at times most terribly silent. + +And now--they all crossed themselves--a ball of fire flew through the sky +and it cracked and broke and it tore all that was in the wood. The wind +came up, the branches rocked and writhed and the leaves fluttered and +tugged and heavy drops beat into the sand. + +"Quick, quick!" said Trientje. "It's going to lighten!" + +Lowietje said nothing and Poentje cried. Each took the child by one hand +and they ran as fast as they could to get from under the trees. + +"Ooh! Ooh!" + +They dashed their hands before their eyes and stood still: a golden snake +twisted round a tree and all the wood was bright with fire and there came +a droning and a rumbling and a banging as of stones together and a +hundred thousand branches burst asunder. Shivering, not daring to look +up, they crossed themselves again and all three crept under the branches, +deep down in a ditch. Trientje tied her pinafore over the little one's +face and they sat there huddled together, shuddering and peeping through +their fingers and saying loud Our Fathers. + +"You must not look, Lowietje: the lightning would strike you blind." + +The trees wrung their heavy boughs and everything squeaked and rustled +terribly. The water rained and poured from the leafy vault on Trientje's +straw hat, on Lowietje's bare head and right through his little torn +shirt. And clap and clap of thunder fell; the sky opened and belched fire +like a hot oven. The children sat nestling into each other's +arms--Poentje down under the other two--and only when it had kept still +for long did they all, trembling and terrified, dare to put out their +heads. + +"I wish we were home now!" sighed Lowietje. + +Once more the sky was all on fire and rumbling and breaking and crackling +till the earth quaked and shook. + +"O God, O God, help us get out of the wood and home to mother!" whined +Trientje. + +When they opened their eyes again, they saw below them, in the bottom, a +huge beech with a bough struck off and the white splinters bare, with +leaves awkwardly twisted right round: it stood there like a fellow with +one arm off. + +The rain now fell steadily in straight stripes; the noise grew fainter +and the sky broke open. + +Soaked through with the wet, the children came creeping out of the ditch +and now, holding their breaths, stood looking at that tree which was so +awesomely cleft and at that crippled bough which hung swinging over +space. The thunder still rumbled, but it was very far away, like heavy +waggons rattling over hard stones. Lowietje caught his little brother up +on his back and they made straight for the opening of the drove, where +they saw a clear sky. They must get out of the wood, away from those +trees where such fearful things happened and where it cracked so and +where it was so dark. + +Outside, the heaven hung full of gold-edged clouds and the sun drove its +bright darts through the sky. The rain fell in lovely gleaming drops and +all looked so new, so fresh and so strangely glad as after a fit of +weeping, when the glistening tears hang in laughing eyes. 'Twas all so +peaceful here and 'twas far behind them that the trees were twisted and +bent. Here and there flew birds; and the cuckoo sat calling in a +cornfield. Lowietje's shirt was glued to his skin; his trousers hung +heavily from his limbs and his hair fell in dripping tresses, sticking +along his cheeks. The white spots on Trientje's pinafore were run through +with the black; and wet cornstalks whipped her little thin skirt. Poentje +splashed with his naked little feet in the puddles and asked for mother. + +"We're almost home, child," said Trientje, to soothe him. + +They went through the wet grass and fragrant cornfields along the +slippery footpaths to a big road. + +Look, there, behind the turning, came mother: she had a sack-cloth over +her head and two umbrellas under her arm; she looked angry and ugly. + +"We shall get a beating," sighed Lowietje. + + + + +VII. A PIPE OR NO PIPE + +He dropped his wheel-barrow, strode from between the shafts and went and +looked into the great window of the tobacco-shop. His eyes were all full, +as far as they could carry: an abundance and a splendour to dream about. +He came a step nearer and rested his two elbows on the stone window-sill, +to see more comfortably. + +Two stacks of motley cigar-boxes stood on either side and ran together at +the top into a rounded arch, from which hung long, long pipes, +cinnamon-wood pipes, as thick as your arm, with green strings to them and +huge, big bowls, artfully carved into the heads of the King, of hideous +niggers, or of pretty girls with beads for eyes. + +On thick, transparent glass slips lay whole files of meerschaum pipes, +furnished with clear curved-amber mouthpieces: fishes' heads, +lobster-claws holding an eggshell, horses' heads, cows' hoofs; rich +cigar-holders of meerschaum, all over silver stars and gold bands. Heaps +and heaps and lots and lots of every kind, as far as he could see; and +all this was multiplied in two enormous mirrors, in which, yonder, far +back among all this smoking-gear, he saw his own face staring at him out +of his great, astonished eyes. + +He sighed. It was all so beautiful, so rich! And now if mother had only +got work! + +He went over it once more. Down below, in little plush-lined trays, lay +the small pipes, the boys' stuff. They lay scattered higgledy-piggledy, +whole handfuls of them, crooked and straight, brown and black. His eyes +thieved round voluptuously in those trays and they read with eager +curiosity the neatly-written figures which informed the world how much +each pipe cost. + +Here, they were crooked, comical little things of black cocus-wood; +there, they were motley, speckled round bowls, like birds' eggs, with +white stems; but they cost too much. And yet they were so charitably +beautiful! Now his eyes remained hankering after a splendid varnished +bowl. It was almost tucked out of sight, but it glittered so temptingly +and had a lovely brown ring at the edge, shading downwards to a pale +gold-yellow: there was a little cup for the oil to sweat into and a fat +cinnamon stem, with a horn mouthpiece. He examined it on every side and +would have liked to turn it over with his eyes. Inside the bowl stood, in +black figures: + +"1 _fr_. 50." + +"Mother!..." + +That was the one he wanted, that was his. She had promised him a pipe if +she got work to-day. If only she had brought work with her! + +After one last look and one more ... he went on. + +He caught up his barrow and pushed it, over the wide road, straight to +the station. + +There he had to wait. + +He loitered round the dreary, deserted yard. The noon sun bit the naked +stones; and everything, hiding and shrinking from that glowing sun-fire, +seemed dead. The drivers sat slumbering on the boxes of their cabs; the +horses stood on three legs, their heads down, crookedwise between the +shafts, and now and then they gave a short stamp, to keep off the flies, +which were terribly active. A group of loafers lay sleeping on their +stomachs in the shade. A slow-moving vehicle drove past and disappeared +round the corner. A dog came stepping up lazily and went and lay under +the sunflowers near the signal-box, blinking his eyes. + +There was nothing more that moved. + +At last the train came gliding in very gently, without noise, and it sent +a gulp or two of white smoke into the quivering blue sky. + +Now the boy stood stretching his neck through the railings, on the +look-out for his mother, whom he already saw in his thoughts, coming +bent, with a heavily-laden bag of weaving-stuff; and the pipe was in his +pocket ... or else nothing, nothing at all! + +'Twas a fat gentleman that got out first; then a tall, thin one; then a +woman; then another woman; always others; and now, now it was mother. She +stuck out her thin leg, groping from the high foot-board to find the +ground, and ... she had an empty blue-and-white canvas bag on her +shoulder. His lower lip dropped sadly and he turned slowly to his barrow: + +"No work yet. God better it!" + +The mother threw her bag on the wheel-barrow and they went on, without +speaking. + +Straight opposite the tobacco-shop, the boy gave a sidelong glance at the +great window, with all those rich things displayed behind it, and he +whistled a little tune. + +They had still far, very far to go, before they two were at home, in +their village. And the sun was burning. + + + + +VIII. ON SUNDAYS + +In his Sunday best! A red-and-yellow flowered scarf was tied round his +sun-burnt neck and the two ends blew over his shoulders; a small +brown-felt hat with a curly brim was drawn down upon his head and, from +under it, came here and there a wisp of flaxen hair. He wore a small, +open jacket, with a short waistcoat, from under which a clean blue shirt +bulged out; and his long, much too long trousers fell in wide folds over +his big cossack shoes.[9] Under his arm he carried a bundle knotted into +a red handkerchief, while with the other hand he twirled a switch. + +[9] Hob-nailed shoes fastened with straps. + +He was a growing youngster, a well-set-up cowherd, with a brown, freckled +face, small, pale-grey eyes, under milk-white eyebrows, and bony knees +and elbows: a sturdy fellow in the making. + +'Twas heavenly, grand Sunday weather: it shone with light and life and it +was all green, pale, splendid green, against a clear blue sky in the +middle of the afternoon. + +He stepped on bravely, along the wide drove of elms, twisting his switch, +and looked into the free sky with his young, grey-blue eyes. He +thought ... of what? Of nothing! Truly, of nothing: what does a cowherd +think of? Wait a bit, though; he was thinking: 'twas Sunday! It was +Sunday once more, the glad Sunday! And there were so few Sundays in those +long, long weeks. And he was going home for a few hours: yes, home; and +from there to Stafke's and to Stafke's pigeons. + +He was hard-worked at the farm: twenty-nine cow-beasts, which were always +hungry and always wanted fattening; furthermore, a whole herd of calves +and hogs: 'twas a drudging without end or bottom, from early morning to +late at night, until his limbs hung lame. + +The farmer was good but strict and could not abide sluggards; he looked +for work, hard work; and this the lad was glad to give, but only while +looking forward to the everlasting Sunday, in which lay all his happiness +and cheer. + +He quickened his steps; and the elms pushed by, one by one, and at last, +ahead, very far down that dark hedge of stems and leafage, came a tiny +opening where the trees seemed to touch one another. + +Look! There, beside the little village church, stood Farmer Willems' +homestead, with its little slate turret and the great poplars and, beside +it, close together and quite hidden in the green, two little cottages. +'Twas there that he was brought up and had grown up; there, in one of +those cottages. In the other lived Stafke's father and mother. The +children had led the half-wild life of the country there: two little boys +together. They had clambered up those mighty trees, weltered in the sand +of the drove and coursed like foals in the meadow. The farm was a free +domain to them; they were at home in it; they went daily to the little +door of the wash-house to fetch their slice of rye-bread-and-butter and, +in the morning, an apple or a pear. They had lain and rolled in the +hay-loft, like fish in the water; but all that had passed so quickly, so +very quickly. The parish-priest came; and, for six months, six long +months, they had had to go to school and church. Then, on a certain +Monday morning, father said: + +"Lad, you're coming along to the farm to-day, to bind corn." + +Play was over, the free play of the country! They were pressed into +labour, were saddled with the labourer's heavy burden. Since then, it had +been an endless roving after work, from one farm to another, with his +bundle under his arm. + +Stafke had remained serving at Willems', with father, and he, on Sunday +afternoons, had not so far to go, under the burning sun, in order to get +home. + +The way was long for an unthinking lad; and they seemed endless, those +never-changing rows of tree-trunks, those uncounted yellow, blinking +cornfields ... and never a creature on the road. It was something very +much out of the way when a pigeon flew through the azure sky; the lad +stood still and, turning round, followed the great ring which it made +until it dropped far away, yonder among the houses of the village. Then +he went on, pondering, as he went, that there was nothing, absolutely +nothing lovelier than a milk-white pigeon in a pale-blue sky; and he +whispered: + +"Perhaps it's Stafke's pigeon." + +On reaching home, he laid down his bundle; his baby sister came running +up to him, with her little arms wide open, and held him by his legs; and +he lifted her twice, three times above his head. He handed mother his +earnings; and then, out of the door, to Stafke's! + +"Roz'lie, is he in?" + +"Oh, yes, he's up in the loft, with the pigeons." + +He climbed up the ladder, in three steps and as carefully as he could, to +the dovecote. Behind a swarm of half-stretched and loose-hanging clouts +and canvas things, a lad sat on an overturned tub, his fair-haired curly +head in his hands, his elbows on his knees, peering through a sort of +lattice-work. Jaak sat down at the other side, on a bundle of maize, in +just the same attitude, and looked too.... + +There were white, snow-white, mottled, blue, slate-blue, russet, +speckled, grey, black-flecked, striped and spotted pigeons, doves, +pouters--some cocks, the rest hens--a motley crowd all mixed up together. +There were some that sat murmuring one to the other, softly--oh, so +softly--and nodding their heads for sheer kindliness. Others cooed +loudly, angrily or indifferently and tripped round one another. Others +sat huddled, meditating, lonely and forlorn, blinking their bright little +glittering eyes. + +Through the holes, from the resting-board, new ones came walking in with +shy feet and sought a little place for themselves; others passed out +through the narrow opening and, flapping their wings, rose into the sky. +'Twas a humming and muttering without end, a murmuring and whispering +loud and soft and a restless stir and movement: a little world full of +neatly-dressed damsels, who were all so lightly, so prettily decked out +and who knew how to manage their trains and their fine clothes so +demurely and so comically. They carefully combed and cleaned their black +velvet ruffs, smoothed their sharp-striped feathers one by one, fondled +and rubbed their downy breasts till they shone like new-blown roses.... + +And Jaak and Stafke sat watching this, sat watching this, like two steel +statues, sweating in that warm loft. They did not stir nor speak a single +word. + +And that lasted and went on.... + +It grew dusk. From every side the pigeons came flying in, whole troops of +them, and sought their well-known roosts. They stood two and two, closely +crowded together on the perches or huddled in the holes. They drew their +heads into their feathered throats and slept. The rumour diminished to +just a soft mumbling; and then nothing more. The pigeon that sat over +there, squatting low on her eggs, faded from sight in her dark corner; +and the whole upper row vanished in the dusk of the rafters. + +The boys still sat on. + +The dovecote became a pale-grey twilight thing, with drab and black +patches here and there. The soft humming passed into a faint buzz that +died away quite; and all was silence. + +They both together stood up straight, gave a long-drawn sigh and went +below. + +"It's getting dark," said Jaak, wiping the sweat from his face. "The cows +will be waiting." + +"Yes," said Stafke. "It gets evening all at once. Well, Jaak, till +Sunday." + +And Jaak went away, through the now moonlit drove, with a new bundle +under his arm and thinking of the farm, of his twenty-nine cow-beasts and +of Sunday and of Stafke's pigeons.... + + + + _Il y a des malheurs qui arrivent + d'un pas si lent et si sr qu'ils + paraissent faire partie de la vie + journalire._ + +MONTALEMBERT. + + + + +IX. AN ACCIDENT + +He had been half awake several times already, but each time he had +slipped back into an uneasy doze, a restless, wearisome sojourn in a +strange, drowsy world, in which he struggled with stupid, silly +dream-spectres, all jumbled together in a huddled mass of incoherent, +impossible thoughts and actions; a blank world in which all his workaday +doings were forgotten; an after-life of tiring sleep following on the +carouse of yesterday. He lay half-suffocated in the stifling heat of that +tiled garret, lay tossing on a straw mattress. And suddenly, with a jolt +that jerked him sleeping like a beast of burden. And now why couldn't he +take life as it came, like his mates, who just went through it anyhow, +without any calculating, callously and cheerfully, something like a +machine which, when the sun comes out and it is daylight, begins to move +arms and legs, to twist and turn the whole day long and, when it is +evening again and dark, falls down and remains lying dead, for a few +hours, with all the other things? + +He drew himself up, thrust his thin legs into his trousers, his arms into +a dirty jacket and let his weary limbs carry him below. His mother had +buttoned up the linen satchel with his two slices of bread-and-butter and +had ladled out his porridge. He went out followed by a "God guard you, +lad!" and the little woman looked after her boy till he had vanished out +of the alley. She was so fond of him, he knew it; yes, he knew all about +that tender love, which he so often rejected in a moment of churlish +impatience; but still he was sorry afterwards, even though he never +showed it. That prim, old-fashioned little woman, with her cramped ways, +was his mother; his father had been a drunkard and had been killed at his +work: that was his parentage; it was their fault that he led this +poverty-stricken existence. + +He walked on, without looking up at all the swarming life around him, +went step by step over the slippery cobbles, straight to his work. His +work: why must he work, always that everlasting toiling, while others +lived and enjoyed their lives without doing anything? He too had once +thought--but it was only a dream--of becoming something; he had felt +something stirring just there, inside him, and that seed would have +sprouted and blossomed if they had only tended it; but they had +ruthlessly repelled him, had refused to take him up with them on the +heights; and he had remained in the mud, alone, all alone. + +There it rose before him: a mighty edifice in building, with behind it a +radiant summer sun that blazed forth high above the framework of the roof +in the morning sky and made that giant structure stand black in its own +shadow. + +That was his work. All that mass of bricks he had seen grow into the +mighty whole; and there it stood now, a huge block, with heavy, massive +outlines, contained--held upright, it seemed--by a jumble of dirty-white +stakes and posts, crossed and criss-crossed with planks. Out of a dirty +hodge-podge of crazy houses, walls black with smoke, little inner rooms +which for the first time saw the white light of day, with ragged strips +of wall-paper and whitewash among rotten beams and rafters straight and +askew, all of which his stubborn labour had made to fall and disappear, +and out of those deep-dug foundations, out of that drudging in the dirty +ground, those stout walls had grown stone by stone, had risen high into +the sky--oh, the hard work of it!--and, tapering by degrees, had shot up +to form that mighty building. Wall by wall, wrought at and toiled at, +held together by pillars running beside narrow pointed windows to those +peaked gable-steps, running into a forest of masts, of slanting beams +that had to bear the roof, the whole of that sprawling monster had +gradually acquired a sense and a meaning and become the splendid +masterpiece that now stood there, solidly fixed against the blue sky like +a magic crystallized phrase. + +That beginning all over again, day after day, at the same work; all that +busy stir of men and stones, now high in the air, now deep below; that +incessant climbing up and down those swaying ladders: all this had made +such a deep impression on him, had implanted itself into him so firmly +that at the first sight of it he felt smitten with impotence, with a +mechanical discouragement that gripped his whole being and made him work +throughout the day as though urged by an all-ruling deity set there in +the symbolic shape of that giant colossus at which he toiled. It seemed +to him that he was an indispensable little part of that great building, a +small moving thing with but a tiny atom of intelligence--sometimes--and +fatally dragged along in that whirling circle, under the behest of the +masters, who knew their way through every stroke and line of the great +plan, who had all that great work in their heads and on paper and who +possessed the power to bring all that complicated machine into operation. +And he just went to work like a dog, set going by the mournful knocking +of the stone-chopper, the shrill screech of the toothless iron marble-saw +and all the banging and knocking and hewing up yonder at the top of +things. He took his wooden hod, filled it with bricks and slowly climbed +the ladder. He was once more the dismal noodle of last week, the +hypnotized bag-o'-nerves that let himself be swept along in the whirlwind +of habit and vexation, dazed by that awful hugeness which he was helping +to complete and driven on by the ever-pursuing pair of eyes of his strict +foreman. And his head ached so; and he felt so sick; and his legs bent +under the load. + +On he had to go and on. His head no longer took part in the work; his +legs kept on going up and down the rungs with those bricks, those +everlasting bricks: he did not know how many, just hauled them up, +without stopping. + +It seemed to him sometimes that the whole mass of walls and scaffolding, +labourers and foremen made but a single being: a sort of fearsome deity, +something like an unwieldy monster with inhuman, cruel feelings, +something which had to be fed with all that workmen's sweat; and all this +feverish activity seemed to him the whirling along of a crowd of +unfortunates who had stepped into the fatal circle marked out for them, +never to leave it again. Everything seemed so unsteady to-day: those +walls on which he had to walk tottered; and he took such a pleasure in +looking, in looking for a long time down below, yonder where the men and +women were like ants and the great blocks of freestone became little +bricks. It gave him such a delicious wriggling in the bowels, a tickling +in his blood; and he felt his hair tingling on his head. Was not this the +way to obtain release from that hard labour, to get out of that +brain-racking circle? + +Then he held on to a post until he recovered his senses; and he went down +again for more bricks. It came from all that beer. + +Yesterday had been a holiday. The wooden framework of the roof was +finished; and they had nailed the May-bough to the top, the joyous emblem +of difficulties vanquished. It showed up grandly there, with its bright +green leaves so high in the air. The masters had granted the men a day +off and given them plenty of beer. All that warm day they had made merry, +drinking and singing and loafing about the streets like happy savages. He +too had revelled with the rest, had been overcome by the drink and joined +in everything, from the horseplay in the open air to the bestial +amusements in those dark holes where the populace seeks its pleasure, +that stimulant for the work of the morrow. Then that brutal drunkenness +had come, with the loss of all his senses, till he found himself, +dog-tired, sick and feverish, up in his garret under the tiles. + +To-day the work was twice as irksome. That rising warmth which, in the +morning, while it is still cool, forebodes the stifling, paralysing heat +of the scorching noon-day, tortured his throat and his bowels; he +couldn't go on. + +"Slacker!" was the first word flung at his head. He stood on the high +gable-steps and set down his load of bricks. That "Slacker!" played about +in his head like the smarting pain of a lash. He stood looking aimlessly +into space, indifferent to all that moved and lived around him. A shudder +ran through his body. The wall tottered ... and he was so high up, all +alone, seen by nobody: such a small creature in that blue sky, in that +endless space. In a clear vision he saw his own figure in all its lean +wretchedness, cut out like a paper silhouette, standing out sharply +against the sky, such a miserable little object: two thin legs, like +laths, a little stomach, two little sticks of arms and that small, +everyday, vulgar head. Was that he, that tiny atom of this mighty, +colossal building, that ant on the back of this behemoth ... which had +only to move to shake him off, ever so low down! + +Ah, here's that delicious wriggling in the bowels again! He has looked +down. Once more. That's capital: something like a feeling of wanting to +jump down, such an airy, irresponsible joy, like flying in a dense, blue +sky, falling very gently and slowly--oh, what fun!--and then being rid of +all one's troubles!... And yet there was a certain fear about it. He +mustn't look any more. Or just this once ... that was grand! Once more +that awful depth, with all those tiny figures, yawned below him; and it +was the little wall that kept him up there so high, only that little +wall.... One movement, the least little yielding, the least bending over: +oh, what bliss ... and how frightful!... He became drunk with delight, +filled with the pleasure of it; he gasped, his eyes became unseeing; it +was like being wafted along, a gentle flight through the air and ... he +fell. + +Bumping against a scaffold, clutching with hands and feet; a breaking +plank, a ghastly yell ... and then a body with arms and legs outspread in +space, a thunderbolt ... a thud as of a bag of earth ... and there he +lay, stretched at full length, like a man asleep. That scream of +distress, that terrible shriek, that farewell cry of one who is going +away for good had sent something like an electric shock through all +around; work ceased and they scrambled down and stood in a great circle +around that body ... looking. And a great silence followed, that silence +which is so heavy and oppressive after the sudden stop of so much +activity. People came rushing up, pushing to get closer ... and to see. +They tore the poor devil's clothes open to find out where he was hurt, +others ran for help, while fresh swarms of folk came crowding up and the +silence died in an uproar of questions and tramping and the wailing of +women. He lay there, with his peaceful face turned to one side, lay on +his back, seemingly uninjured; a few drops of blood trickled from his +mouth. His eyes were closed like those of a man asleep. + +"Such a height to fall!... So young, only a boy!" + +Others stood chattering loudly, indifferently, as though about an +everyday occurrence, or looked up at the wall and showed one another from +where he had tumbled down. + +There was a sudden movement in the crowd; people jostled one another. + +"His mother's coming!" somebody whispered. + +They pressed closer and closer to watch the effect upon her, the women +with an anguished consciousness of what she must be suffering, that +mother-pain which they understood so well. The men pushed to see what +happened, because everybody was looking. All eyes were fixed on the +little woman who came running along, with those elderly little hurried +steps, those two anxious eyes which showed all the dread of the tragedy +they suspected. The people made way respectfully, as before one who is +privileged to approach and look upon what is hers. Those who could not +move back she dragged away mercilessly, gripping them with her hooked +fingers, which she thrust out at every side in order to see closer. It +was her ... her ... her son lying there, her own son; and she must get to +him. + +She saw him. He lay there and he was dead, the son, the child whom she +had seen leaving that morning alive and well. She stood aghast, out of +breath after the great effort of hurrying, her throat pinched with +distress and sorrow and shock, her soul filled with all the pent-up +tempest that was seeking an outlet. Her flat chest heaved and all her +thin, frail little body quivered; her legs shook beneath her. Slowly and +painfully the sobs came welling up. + +The people waited in silence, more or less disappointed, saddened by all +that silent grief. Her eyes, the eyes of a mother, stared at the dead +body; and he did not look at her and he slept on and ... and he was +asleep for ever, gone for ever: he would never see her again! This last +cut into her soul; a shrill scream came from her throat, she flung her +lean brown hands together high above her head, wrung the crooked, gnarled +fingers convulsively and then, with her fists clenched in her lap, sank +impotently to her knees, with her head against his. + +"Oh, it's such a pity, oh, it's such a pity!" she moaned; and the words +contained all the awful depth of her woe, all the concentrated sorrow. +"Oh, it's such a pity, such a pity!" she kept on repeating, finding no +other words to express her grief and lending them power by force of +repetition. + +He remained lying there ... and she remained kneeling; and all that crowd +of people stood silently looking on, startled and impressed by that +sacred, solemn mourning. And the impressive hush, the silence of all +those people, the desperate helplessness of those folk, she alone +suffering and crying and unable to help her child and the people +unwilling to help him: that impotence pierced her soul; and the patient +suffering changed into a frenzied madness, a raging fury. With a terrible +scream, like that of a goaded beast, a hoarse yell that came grating out +of her parched throat, she thrust her arms, stiff with pain, like two +steel rods, under the arms of that limp corpse and, with a superhuman +effort, with Herculean strength exalted by suffering, she lifted the +corpse, pressed it to her body, raised it with her outstretched arms and +dragged it, with its legs trailing behind it, hurrying along at a mad +pace, with the one idea of getting home with her child, her only child, +away, far away from that callous crowd which desecrated her sorrow: there +she would weep, sob out all her grief and find words, sweet words which +must throb through her child and wake him and bring him back to life! + +All that packed crowd had first followed her with their eyes, struck +by the sudden outburst of that mad rage; and then they had gone +after her, inquisitively. And it did not last long before the +police-constables--those phlegmatic posts with which any outbreak of +undue human emotion must always in the end collide--stopped them; they +pulled those bony arms from round the corpse and took the little mother, +now hanging slack and limp, one on either side by the arm and led her +away. The body was carried to the mortuary. + +With a resounding oath the foreman drove his folk back to work and set +all that rolling activity going once more. + +The passers-by hastened away; and the saw screeched, the chisel tapped, +the hammer banged, the bricks were hauled up on high and the gorgeous +building, the pride of a metropolis, stood resplendent in the glaring +white mid-day sun, as if nothing had happened. + + + + +X. WHITE LIFE + +Her life flowed on as a little brook flows under grass on a Sunday noon +in summer, flowed on in calm seclusion, far from the bustle of the crowd, +secretly, steadily, uninterrupted save by ever-recurring little +incidents, peacefully approaching old age. She sat in her little white +room, behind the muslin curtains, making lace. Her cottage stood a little +way back from the street, shining behind a neatly-raked flower-garden. + +The door was always shut and the curtains carefully drawn. Inside, +everything was very clean: smooth, bare walls and the ceiling washed with +milk-white chalk through which shone a soft touch of blue; and this +bright cleanliness contrasted soberly with the things that hung on the +wall. The chairs and furniture stood placed with care, as though nailed +to the floor; over the mantel hung the copper Christ, a thin, elongated +figure of Our Lord, with its sharp projections which shone when the sun +touched them: a little figure which, so long dead, hung there so firmly +nailed and looked so calmly from out of the small dark shadow-lines of +its face. + +The stove stood freshly blackened, with the waved white sand on its +polished pipe.[10] Over the door of the bedroom steps hung the glass case +with the waxen image of Our Lady, a girlish figure clad in broad white +folds, with bright-red, cherry cheeks, smiling sweetly upon a doll which +she carried in her arms. On the other wall was a glaring framed print, in +which a Child Jesus romped with curly-headed angels in a motley green +wood, with behind it a sunny perspective gleaming with paradisian +delights. + +[10] The Flemish stove is connected with the chimney by a flat pipe, + on which the plates and other utensils are heated. On Sundays, the + stove, the pipe and all are blacked and polished with black-lead and + turpentine; and it is an old custom of neat house-wives to powder the + stove-pipe with white sand from the dunes. The sand is allowed to run + through a little opening in the hand in a series of fine wavy lines, + forming a delicate pattern on the black pipe. + +From the ceiling, in a white cage, hung the canary, which hopped from one +perch to the other, all day long, without ever singing. On the +window-seat, behind the little curtains, blossomed tall geraniums and +phlox, which, through the mesh of the muslin curtains, sent a blissful +fragrance through the room. + +Life went its monotonous gait, measured by the slow tick of the hanging +clock, that big, stupid, laughing face which so pitilessly turned its two +unequal fingers round and round. Outside, close by, went the steel blows +of the smith's hammer or the biting file that grated against her wall. + +The sun that laughed so pleasantly through the windows and came and put +all those things in a white gleaming light beamed right through into her +little white soul: it was yet like that of a child, had remained +innocent, never been soiled or troubled; and, now that the bad storm-time +was over, it lay still in the passionless restfulness of waning life, +quite taken up with all manner of harmless occupations, devotions and +acquired ways of an old, god-fearing woman-person. Her face, which was +wreathed in a round white goffered cap, had the smooth, yellow, waxen +pallor of the statue of Our Lady, in church, and her features the severe, +sober kindliness of nuns'. She was dressed in modest, stiffly-falling +folds of unrumpled lilac silk, like the queens in old prints. + +She spent those long, quiet days at her lace-pillow. That was her only +amusement, her treasure: this half-rounded arch of smooth, blue paper on +the wooden pillow-stool, occupied by a swarm of copper pins, with +coloured-glass heads, and of finely-turned wooden bobbins, with slender +necks and notched bodies, hanging side by side from fine white threads or +heaped up behind a steel bodkin. All this array of pins, holes, drawers +and trays had for her its own form and meaning, a small world in which +she knew her way so well. Her deft white fingers knew how to throw, +change, catch and pick up those bobbins so nimbly, so swiftly; she stuck +her pins, which were to give the thread its lie and form, so accurately +and surely; and, under her hand, the lace grew slowly and imperceptibly +into a light thread network, grew with the leaves and flowers of her +geraniums and phlox and the silent course of time. + +'Twas quite a feast when, in the evening, she wound off the ravelled end +and carefully examined the white web. She closely followed all the knots, +curves and twists of those transparent little veins; and 'twas with +regret that she rolled up the lace again and put it away in the drawer. + +When all her peaceful thoughts had been fully pondered, when all that +life of every day, all that even round of happenings, like little white +flakes floating in the sunny sky, had drifted by through the +thought-chambers of her soul and when the light began to fail out of +doors and in, she took her rosary and prayed, for hours on end, slowly +telling the smooth beads between her fingers until, when it grew quite +dark, she started awake and became aware that for some time she had been +telling the strokes of the smith's hammer on the other side of the wall. +Then she laid herself between the white sheets and tried to sleep. + +Two days ago the grid of her stove broke and today she had taken it to be +mended; she had been to the smith's and now she could not get out of her +mind what she had seen there: a black cave, like an oven, down three +steps; a dark hole hung and filled on every side with black iron tools; +and, amid all this jumble, an anvil and, in the red glow from the dancing +light of the smithy fire, a small, stunted, black little fellow, hidden +out of knowledge in that gloom; a bent, thin little man wound in a +leathern apron and with a black face, from which a pair of good-humoured +eyes peered out at her, through the shining glasses of his copper-rimmed +spectacles, like two little lights in the dark. She had gone down those +three steps, looking round shyly, afraid of getting dirty; had explained +her business to that impish little chap; and had then hastily fled from +that hell. Now it seemed to her that those two eyes had looked at her so +kindly; and she wondered how any one could live in such a hole and be a +Christian creature ... and yet that smith looked as if he had a good +heart. + +Next day, she was thinking again of the little man and his dark, haunted +hole; and she sniffed the scent of her geraniums with a new pleasure and +looked with more gladness at her trim little dwelling and her +lace-pillow. She now enjoyed, realized, with all the sensual luxury of +her soul, that peaceful life of hers, something like that of the yellow, +waxen Virgin high up there on the wall, under her glass shade. And yet +she was sorry for her good neighbour: it must be so dreary alone, amid +all that dirt.... She worked at her lace, prayed and tried to think of +nothing more. + +He brought the new grid home himself. At first, she was shy with the man: +she got up, went to the stove, turned back again and only now and then +dared look at the smith from under her eyes. He was wrapped up in his +work, stood bending over the stove, trying to fix the grid. Seen like +that in the light, the little chap looked quite different to her eyes: he +was no longer young, his breath came quickly; but in all that he did +there was something so friendly, so kindly, something almost +well-mannered, that went oddly with his dirty clothes and his black face. +The little smith was known in the village as a lively person, who led a +lonely life, but who was able also to divert a company: he knew his +customers and knew how to manage them all. Here he took good care not to +dirty the floor: he spat his tobacco-juice into the coal-box and touched +nothing with his hands. When at last the grid was fixed, he stayed +talking a little: he spoke of her nice little life among all those white +things; paid her a compliment on her pretty flowers and shining copper; +and then came close to look at her lace-pillow. Lastly, seeing that she +was not at her ease, that she answered his remarks so shortly and +hesitatingly, he gave a push to his cap, refused to say what she owed him +and was gone with a skip and a jump. + +One Sunday, after vespers, he came again, bowed politely, fetched a bit +of paper out of his waistcoat-pocket and sat down on a chair by the +stove. This visit annoyed her: with the quickness with which small-minded +people weigh and think over a matter, her eyes went to the window to see +if anybody had observed him come in and was likely to set evil tongues +a-clacking. It was almost bound to be so; and, to keep her honour safe, +she opened her door, mumbling something about "warm weather" and "the +tobacco-smoke which made her cough." + +She went to her room, fetched some money and paid the bill. The smith sat +where he was, knocked out his little stone pipe and put it in his inside +pocket; he did not look at his money and, in his hoarse little voice, +began to talk of quite common things: of wind and weather and the current +news of the village; always chatting in the same tone, a jumble of long, +breathless statements. From this he went on to his dreary, lonely life, +the monotonous quiet of it and the danger of thieves, sickness and sudden +death. She said not a word, but, against the bright window-curtains, the +sharp, heavy profile of her face, together with the flutes of her white +cap, went up and down in a continual nodding assent to everything he +said. At the end, she took pleasure in hearing him talk, nor now looked +upon that clean-washed face of his as at all so ugly. It even did her +good to see some one sitting there who came to enliven the monotony of +that long Sunday evening. By her leave, he had lighted a fresh pipe; and +she now sat sniffing up that unaccustomed smell, which rose in little +puffs from behind the stove and floated round the room, filling it with +long rows of blue curls. 'Twas as if she were overcome by that quite new +smell of tobacco and she felt inclined to sleep; she stood up, to get rid +of that slackness, shut the front-door and, without thinking what she was +doing, asked if he would have some coffee. He nodded, gladly. + +She put the kettle on and got the coffee-pot ready, fetched out her best +cups and spoons and the white sugar. When the steam came rushing from the +spout, she poured water on the coffee and they sat down, one on each side +of the table, to sip the savoury drink in tiny draughts. 'Twas long since +she had felt so comfortable and for the first time she thought with +dislike of her lonely life. 'Twas late when he went home; she came with +him to the door ... and saw black figures that strolled past in the +street and perhaps had seen him leave. She had bad dreams all night: the +people pointed their fingers at her and slanderous tongues spread ugly +things about her. The whole of the next day her thoughts were in the +smithy; she swept the pavement more carefully and farther than usual, +went now and then and looked out of window; and her little curtains were +left open with a split in the middle. Yesterday, she had forgotten to +give the canary fresh water to drink. The people looked at her in the +street; two or three god-fearing gossips had let her walk home alone. +This gave her great pain; 'twas as though a heavy load were weighing day +and night on her breast; and yet she was not sorry for what had happened. +All these trifles could not make her forget her content. She said her +prayers and performed her little duties with as much care as before and +lived on, alone. + +On Sunday, she went to church very early and prayed long: it did her so +much good, that delightful whispering with God, that sweet kind Lord Who +listened to her so patiently and always sent her away with fresh courage, +strengthened to walk on bravely along life's irksome way. Sometimes she +was frightened at her behaviour! She was gnawed by a reproachful thought: +that she had left the straight path, that she no longer lived for God +alone, that she was forgetting her dear saints and busy with sinful +thoughts. And yet, when she carefully considered everything, nothing had +happened that seemed to her blameworthy; all that change in her life had +come as of itself and in spite of herself; and really, after all, there +was no harm in it. She prayed for that good man, who certainly needed her +spiritual aid: he went so seldom to church and lived in such a dreary +black hole. Her prayers and interest would for sure bring him to a better +frame of mind. And yet she must watch, keep strong, avoid the dangers: +her honour was a tender thing; and people were wicked. She stayed longer +than usual in the confessional and offered special prayers to every saint +in the church. + +When she was back at home, she began her little Sunday duties: the +lace-pillow was put away that day and she did nothing but arrange things, +put things in their places, gather a fresh nosegay for the porcelain vase +before Our Lady's statue and see to her cooking. She picked the withered +leaves from the geraniums, bound the branches of the phlox to the trellis +and gave them fresh water from a little flowered can. She was specially +fond of her little pot of musk: it stood on the window-seat, opposite her +chair, carefully set in a rush cage stuck into the earth and fastened at +the top with a thread. Sometimes she took it on her lap, bent her face +over it and sniffed the pleasant smell in long draughts, until she was +almost drunk with it. + +In the afternoon, she sat down at the window and read her Thomas +Kempis. Then all was quite still: no hammering behind the wall, no boys +in the street, only the soft tapping of the canary in his food-trough and +the tick of the pendulum; everything was quiet as though in an enchanted +sleep. The sun glowed through the geranium-leaves and cast on the +red-tiled floor a broad, round shadow which took the whole afternoon to +creep from the legs of the stove to the front-door. + +The flies buzzed round on the rafters of the ceiling or ran along the +cracks of the white-scoured table. Her thoughts wandered wearily and +lazily through the wise maxims of her book and she sometimes sat peering +at the funny shape of a coloured initial which, after long looking, +became such a silly figure, one that no longer looked in the least like a +letter, but was rather something in the form of a vice.... The lines of +print ran into one another, the maxims said all sorts of foolish things, +her eyes closed, her head nodded and she sank, with all those peaceful +things, into perfect rest. + +After dinner, the smith had had a sleep; then he washed his face, put on +his best clothes and went past her window to vespers. In the evening, she +saw him again when he went to the customers for a pot of beer: this time +he gave her a friendly nod. + +For her, Sunday passed like all the other days; she prayed longer and +closed her shutter earlier for fear of the drunkards. After saying a long +row of graces which she knew by heart, she went to her bedroom. In the +stuffy air of that closed upper chamber, she lay thinking. She was not +sleepy and it was nice, in the evening stillness, covered in her white +sheets, to lie with her eyes looking through the split in the white +curtains at the moon which hung shining outside. + +Now she gave free scope to her thoughts, until all of that had again been +pondered round and pondered out. Then it became so funny to her: 'twas as +if she were long dead now and floating in a pale and scented air in the +company of sweet saints and angels. But it was oh, so hazy and +indistinct! It always escaped her when she wanted to enjoy it more +closely and to give the thing a name. + +It was night when the smith came home, a little tipsy, deceived by his +great thirst and the double effect of the beer in that warm weather. He +was very cheery, without really knowing why; something like a soft +buzzing fire ran through all his body and made him tingle with happiness. +They had chaffed him that evening about the old maid next door and he now +felt inclined just to tell her about it. + +Wasn't it a shame for two people to lie here so quietly and drearily, +parted by a bit of a wall, when they could have been amusing each +other?... His white neighbour was sure to be asleep by now ... and, if he +only dared ... and, quicker indeed than he intended, he gave three little +taps on the wall and lay listening, all agog.... Three like little taps +answered! This was so unexpected that at first he sat wondering whether +he could believe his ears; then he began to swim and sprawl in his bed, +bit his teeth so as not to shout out his overflowing delight and started +banging on the wall, this time with his fists. It was too late to-night: +to-morrow, he would go to her and ask her ... and then they would +both ... and he would no longer be alone, always alone, and would have +some one to care for him, to look after him.... In all this happiness he +drowsed off gently, rocked in another world, like a little wax doll in a +pale-blue paper box. + +She had started out of her sleep at those three taps and had answered, +not knowing why; then she had got frightened at that wild man behind her +wall, had jumped out of bed and struck a light and sat waiting until the +noise stopped; then she commended her soul into the Lord's hands and fell +softly asleep. + +The first time that he went to see her, he found the door shut. Once, +when he met her in the street, she kept her eyes carefully cast down and +passed him without a sign of greeting. Her curtains remained drawn and +she never came to the door now. He went home and sat musing on his anvil. +All his plan was blown to bits; he found himself sadly duped and turned +red with anger when folk spoke of his dear neighbour. He hammered and +filed from morning till night; and she must now be making her lace. + +Time pushed past, divided into even days, along a smooth road that led +down the mountain-slope of summer. The leaves fell from the geraniums and +the phlox. The neatly-cut-out paper fly-catcher was put away and the lamp +hung up in its place. With the sad, short days came the grey, misty sky, +the dismal, dripping rain and the white snow. The village lay dead for +half the day, dark, with here and there a little ray of light gleaming +through the shutters. + +And it became gradually drearier for her: that calm rest, in which she +had once found such a pure delight, was now a heavy weariness. She longed +for change, for something different which she could not justly define, or +else to live again as before, alone and with nothing but herself. She had +struggled and fought to rid herself of that obsession, but it followed +her everywhere: she saw him go by, even when her eyes were fixed on the +lace-pillow, the stove, or the chair on which he had sat; and there was +that constant hammering and scratching behind her wall: everywhere she +saw those two kind eyes behind the copper rims of his spectacles; and she +sometimes caught herself contentedly tracing the good-natured features of +his little black face. She had prayed more than ever and evoked quite new +saints; and now she let herself drift along at God's pleasure, no longer +even thinking of her weakness. Perhaps she was the instrument of a +Blessed Providence, destined blindly to do good. + +The little curtains had long been pushed apart again; and, each time that +she heard approaching footsteps, her heart went beating and her eyes +looked eagerly to see if by chance ... it was not he. + +Sometimes, an anxious fluttering drove her to the front-door, where she +stood looking round for a while and then, ashamed of herself, went +indoors again. Quite against her habit, she now made use of her glass: in +the middle of her work, she went to see if the two glossy black tresses +lay neatly on her forehead and if the ribbons of her cap were properly +tied and fastened. She put on her clothes more carefully and folded and +refolded her kerchief till it enclosed her body in a pretty shape. From +before the moment of starting for church, her heart began to beat; she +shut her garden-gate more noisily and stepped loudly along the pavement +until she came to the smith's first window, firmly resolved this time at +least to look up and say good-morning; but she always met some one who +noticed her; and she was in church by the time that, with a sigh, she had +put off her intention until next day. + +At night, in bed, she lay thinking over all these little events; and it +was a glad day or a sad day for her according as she had more or less +often caught sight of the little smith. + +One evening, after benediction, she saw him come walking under the trees +of the churchyard. Not a soul saw them. Now she really must have courage; +but again the blood came to her throat and she felt that once again it +would lead to nothing. He had just looked round before she came up to him +and then he sat down on the stone step before the Calvary, as though he +wanted to chat with her there at his ease: + +"Good-evening, Sofie," he said, with a smile. "Have you been to say your +prayers. Don't you ever say a little one for me? I want it so badly: my +soul's as black as my apron and I can't even read a prayer-book...." + +He made all this speech in a soft, fondling little tone and then sat +smirking to see what she would say. There was nothing that she longed for +more than to save his soul: + +"Can you say the Rosary?" she asked. + +"Yes, but I haven't one." + +"Would you like me to give you one?" + +"Oh, rather ... if you'll be so good!" + +She bent close to him and whispered in his ear: + +"Come and fetch it, to-morrow evening, when it's dark." + +They walked together through the peaceful twilit churchyard and, with a +cordial "Good-evening," went home well pleased with themselves. + +For her it was an endless day; all the time she stood considering what +she should say to him. He was coming and would sit smoking there again +behind the stove. Already she heard his pleasant, whispering talk and saw +his kind, upturned glance. She moved about restlessly to set everything +in order. The shutters were closed quite early and the lamp burning. Now +she went and had one more look outside and it was pitch-dark, with never +a moon. On the stroke of eight, the door opened: he was there, with his +Sunday jacket on, his red scarf and his leather shoes. She was most +friendly, but did not at first know how to begin the conversation. + +He lit his pipe and snuffled some news of the village and of people who +were married, sick or dead. She made coffee, turned up the lamp and +opened her bedroom door to give an outlet to the tobacco-smoke. Straight +opposite him, deep in the half-darkness, he saw all that show of white: +against the wall stood the bed, under a white canopy of curtains hanging +in folds, set off with a white ball-fringe; also a praying-desk with +velvet cushions, above which was an image of the Sacred Heart, with gold +flowers, and, hanging from a brass chain, a perpetual light glimmering in +a little red glass; and, all around, on the white walls, little statues +and pictures, like a devout little tabernacle ashine with cleanliness. +They drank their fragrant cup of coffee and nibbled lumps of white sugar. + +"And my rosary?" he asked. + +She fetched it out of the drawer of her lace pillow and came and sat +close to him to teach him how to say it: + +"Here, at the little cross, the I Believe in God the Father; then, at +each big bead, an Our Father; and, at the little ones, a Hail Mary." + +He sat with his legs drawn under his chair, with one hand at his chin, +listening good-humouredly and, with a smile, repeating all she taught +him. Her eyes shone with happiness. Now the talk went easily on church +matters and all the things of her pious little life; she showed him the +pictures in her prayer-book, explained all the attributes of the saints +and told long stories of their lives and martyrdoms. + +He, also, told her of his youth, when he made his first communion and was +the best little man in the whole village. It was striking ten when he +went home; and he had promised to come and listen to her again. + +Every evening, when it grew dark, he sat peeping to see if there was no +one in the street and then cautiously crept in through her gate. He +brought her old books from his loft; and, while he smoked his pipe, she +lit the candle before the statue of Our Lady and started talking, very +gently, so as not to be heard outside. She read whole chapters out of +Thomas Kempis and _The Pious Pilgrim_, _The Dove amongst the Rocks_, +_The Spiritual Bridegroom_, or _The Sacred Meditations_. They sat there +for hours at a time gazing at each other and smiling. When it grew late, +she went and looked outside and, when the moment was favourable, she +carefully let him out. She thanked Our Lord for making her so happy and +often prayed that it might last and she win the smith's soul for Heaven +and that their doing might all the same be kept hidden from wicked +people. + +St. Eloi's Day is the holiday of smiths and husbandmen. In the morning, +the farmers all went together to mass and thence, after a glass, to +settle their yearly reckoning at the smith's. At noon there was a big +dinner at the inn. They ate much and drank more; and, from afternoon till +late in the evening, the smiths' men and the peasants loafed along the +streets and sang ribald songs. The steadiest of them walked about +talking, from one tavern to the other. They were nearly all drunk. She +sat peeping at it from behind her curtain and was vexed at all this +wantonness and rather glad that she had not yet seen "him" anywhere. She +said her evening prayers and was just going to bed when she heard the +door open and the smith stepped in. + +He carried his pipe upside down in his mouth, his eyes looked wild and +his speech was incoherent. She had never seen him like that; and she was +frightened at his strange gestures. She wanted him to sit down, but he +came up to her with his arms open, as if to catch hold of her. She +stepped back in affright, pushed him away from her. His breath stank of +drink and his thin legs tottered under him. She began to beseech him, +that it was late and that he should go home and that people would +know.... But his eyes looked at her roguishly and, with bent head and +outstretched arms, he kept on trying to come closer. Filled with dread, +she wavered away behind the tables and chairs, whimpering: + +"If you please, if you please, Sander, go home; you frighten me!" + +Suddenly, he nipped out the flame of the lamp with his fingers. It was +quite dark. + +"Sander! Sander! What do you want? Heavens! He's drunk! And I'm here all +alone! Lord God, St. Catherine, help!" + +He still spoke not a word, but uttered ugly growls; and she heard his +hands rub and grope along the wall, against herself. She pulled open the +door of her bedroom and fled up the stairs and fell in a heap in the +corner beside her bed. There she sat waiting, out of breath.... Yes, his +heavy shoes had found the steps; and, still growling, he entered the +room. He felt the bed, lay down flat on his stomach and reached out with +his arms; then he found her sitting sighing. She felt those two weedy +arms grasp her and was caught in them as in an iron band. She moaned and +screamed for help. His dirty, slimy mouth pressed her lips ... and then +she felt herself sink away, out of the world. The people who heard the +cries came to see what was the matter. They hauled the drunkard outside +and laid her on the bed. When they saw that she was better, they went +away again. + +She lay stretched out slackly in the dark. First, still quite overcome, +as though drunk with sleep, she slowly, through that dim whirl of stormy +thoughts, came to understand what had happened: all her misfortune, which +yawned before her like a deep, black well. She was ashamed, disgusted +with herself and felt a great aversion, a loathing for all the world: +people were a pack of lustful pigs.... And he too: that was over now, +suddenly over, for good and all.... And he ... no, he had deceived her, +grievously defiled her. And now to have to go on living like that! It was +done past recall: she was punished for her trustfulness ... and those +same kind eyes and that friendly face; only yesterday, they had said +their evening prayers together and so devoutly! Oh, 'twas such a pity! +And what would people say?... And the priest?... And Our Lord and all His +dear saints?... She fell into ever-deepening despair and saw never a way +out. Very far away shone her pure little life of former days, her white +and peaceful little soul floating in that unruffled blue sanctity, in +that fragrant twilight of evening after evening ... and all this he had +now crushed in one second and stamped to pieces. And he was dead to her, +he with whom she had dreamed so sweetly and lived in glad expectation. In +her wretchedness, she was left stark alone, abandoned like a poor babe in +the snow. She plunged her face into the white sheets and cried. She would +have liked to pine away there, in that kindly darkness, and never, never +to see daylight again. + + + + +XI. THE END + +Zeen pulled up his bent back, wiped the sweat from his forehead with his +bare arm and drew a short breath. + +Zalia, with her head close to the ground, went on binding her sheaves. + +The sun was blazing. + +After a while, Zeen took up his sickle again and went on cutting down the +corn. With short, even strokes, with a swing of his arm, the sickle rose +and, with a "d-zin-n-n" fell at the foot of the cornstalks and brought +them down in great armfuls. Then they were hooked away and dragged back +in little even heaps, ready to be bound up. + +It did not last long: he stopped again, looked round over all that power +of corn which still had to be cut and beyond, over that swarming plain, +which lay scorching, so hugely far, under that merciless sun. He saw +Zalia look askant because he did not go on working and, to account for +his resting, drew his whetstone from his trouser-pocket and began slowly +to sharpen the sickle. + +"Zalia, it's so hot." + +"Yes, it's that," said Zalia. + +He worked on again, but slowly, very slackly. + +The sweat ran in great drops down his body; and sometimes he felt as if +he would tumble head foremost into the corn. Zalia heard his breath come +short and fast; she looked at him and asked what was the matter. His arms +dropped feebly to his sides; and the hook and sickle fell from his hands. + +"Zalia, I don't know ... but something's catching my breath like; and my +eyes are dim...." + +"It's the heat, Zeen, it'll wear off. Take a pull." + +She fetched the bottle of gin from the grass edge of the field, poured a +sip down his throat and stood looking to see how it worked: + +"Well?" + +Zeen did not answer, but stood there shivering and staring, with his eyes +fixed on a bluebonnet in the cut corn. + +"Come, come, Zeen, get it done! Have just another try: it'll get cooler +directly and we'll be finished before dark." + +"Oh, Zalia, it's so awfully hot here and it'll be long before it's +evening!" + +"But, Zeen, what do you feel?" + +Zeen made no movement. + +"Are you ill?" + +"Yes, I am, Zalia. No, not ill, but I feel so queer and I think I ought +to go home." + +Zalia did not know what to do: she was frightened and did not understand +his funny talk. + +"If you're ill ... if you can't go on, you'd better get home quick: +you're standing there like a booby." + +Zeen left his sickle on the ground and went straight off the field. She +saw him go slowly, the poor old soul, lurching like a drunken man, and +disappear behind the trees. Then she took her straw-band and bundled up +all the little heaps of corn, one after the other, and bound them into +sheaves. She next took the sickle and the hook and just went cutting away +like a man: stubbornly, steadily, with a frenzied determination to get it +done. The more the corn fell, the quicker she made the sickle whizz. + +The sweat ran down her face; now and then, she jogged back the straw hat +from over her eyes to see how much was left standing and then went on +cutting, on and on. She panted in the doing of it.... She was there +alone, on that outstretched field, in that heat which weighed upon her +like a heavy load; it was stifling. She heard no sound besides the swish +of her steel and the rustling of the falling corn. + +When at last she could go on no longer, she took a sip at the bottle and +got new strength. + +The sun was low in the sky when she stood there alone on the smooth +field, with all the corn lying flat at her feet. Then she started +binding. + +The air grew cooler. When the last sheaf was fastened in its straw-band +and they now stood set up in heavy stooks, like black giants in straight +rows, it began to grow dark. She wiped the sweat from her face, slipped +on her blue striped jacket, put the bottle in her hat, took the sickle +and hook on her shoulder and, before going, stood for a while looking at +her work. She could now see so very far across that close-shorn plain; +she stood there so alone, so tall in that stubble-field, everything lay +so flat and, far away over there, the trees stood black and that mill and +the fellow walking there: all as though drawn with ink on the sky. It +seemed to her as if the summer was now past and that heavy sultriness was +a last cramped sigh before the coming of the short days and the cold. + +She went home. Zeen was ill and it was so strange to be going back +without him. It was all so dreary, so dim and deadly, so awful. Along the +edge of the deep sunken path the grasshoppers chirped here and there, all +around her: an endless chirping on every side, all over the grass and the +field; and it went like a gentle woof of voices softly singing. This +singing at last began to chatter in her ears and it became a whining +rustle, a deafening tumult and a painful laughter. From behind the +pollard her cat jumped on to the path: it had come to the field to meet +her and, purring cosily, was now arching its back and loitering between +Zalia's legs until she stroked it; then it ran home before her with great +bounds. The goat, hearing steps approach, put its head over the +stable-door and began to bleat. + +The house-door was open; as she went in, Zalia saw not a thing before her +eyes, but she heard something creaking on the floor. It was Zeen, trying +to scramble to his feet when he heard her come in. + +"Zeen!" she cried. + +"Yes," moaned Zeen. + +"How are you? No better yet? Where are you?... Why are you lying flat on +the floor like this?" + +"Zalia, I'm so ill ... my stomach and...." + +"You've never been ill yet, Zeen! It won't be anything this time." + +"I'm ill now, Zalia." + +"Wait, I'll get a light. Why aren't you in bed?" + +"In bed, in bed ... then it'll be for good, Zalia; I'm afraid of my bed." + +She felt along the ceiling for the lamp, then in the corner of the hearth +for the tinder-box; she struck fire and lit up. + +Zeen looked pale, yellow, deathlike. Zalia was startled by it, but, to +comfort him: + +"It'll be nothing, Zeen," she said. "I'll give you a little Haarlem oil." + +She pulled him on to a chair, fetched the little bottle, put a few drops +into a bowl of milk and poured it down his throat. + +"Is it doing you good?" + +And Zeen, to say something, said: + +"Yes, it is, Zalia, but I'd like to go to sleep, I'm feeling cold now and +I've got needles sticking into my side ... here, see?" + +And he pressed both his hands on the place. + +"Yes, you're better in bed; it'll be gone in the morning and we'll fetch +in the corn." + +"Is it cut?" + +"All done and stooked; if it keeps fine to-morrow, we'll get it all into +the barn." + +Zalia lifted him under his armpits and they crawled on like that into the +other room, where the loom stood with the bed behind it. She helped him +take off his jacket and trousers and put him to bed, tucked him nicely +under the blanket and put his night-cap on his head. + +Then she went and lit the fire in the hearth, hung up the pot with the +goat's food, washed the potatoes and sat down to peel them for supper. + +She had not peeled three, when she heard Zeen bringing up. + +"That's the oil, it'll do him good," she thought and, fetching a can of +water from outside, gave him a bowl to drink. + +Then she went back to her peeling. A bit later, she sat thinking of other +remedies--limeflowers, sunflower-seeds, pearl barley, flowers of +sulphur--when suddenly she saw Mite Kornelje go by. She ran out and +called: + +"Mite!" + +"What is it, Zalia?" + +"Mite, Zeen is ill." + +"What, ill? All at once?" + +"Yes, all of a sudden, cutting the corn in the field." + +"Is he bad?" + +"I don't know, I've given him some Haarlem oil, he's been sick; he's +complaining of pains in his side and in his stomach; he's very pale: you +wouldn't know him." + +They went indoors. Zalia took the lamp and both passed in, between the +loom and the wall by Zeen's bed. + +He lay staring at the ceiling and catching his breath. Mite stood looking +at him. + +"You must give him some English salt,[11] Zalia." + +[11] Epsom salts. + +"Why, Mite, I never thought of that; yes, he must have some English +salt." + +And she climbed on to a chair and took from the plank above the bed a +dusty calabash full of little paper bags and packets. + +She opened them one by one and found canary-seed, blacklead, +washing-blue, powdered cloves, cinnamon, sugar-candy, burnt-ash ... but +no English salt. + +"I'll run home and fetch some, Zalia." + +"Yes, Mite, do." + +And Mite went off. + +"Well, Zeen, no better yet?" + +Zeen did not answer. She took a pail of water and a cloth, cleaned away +the mess from beside the bed and then went back to peel her potatoes. + +Mite came back with the English salt. Treze Wizeur and Stanse Zegers, who +had heard the news, also came to see how Zeen was getting on. Mite +stirred a handful of the salt in a bowl of water and they all four went +to the sick man's bed. Zeen swallowed the draught without blinking. Mite +knew of other remedies, Stanse knew of some too and Treze of many more: +they asked Zeen questions and babbled to him, made him put out his tongue +and felt his pulse, cried out at his gasping for breath and his pale +colour and his dilated pupils and his burning fever. Zeen did not stir +and lay looking at the ceiling. When he was tired of the noise, he said: + +"Leave me alone." + +And he turned his face to the wall. + +Then they all went back to the kitchen. The goat's food was done. Zalia +hung the kettle with water on the hook and made coffee; and the four +women sat round the table telling one another stories of illness. In the +other room there was no sound. + +A bit later, Mite's little girl came to see where mother was all this +time. She was given a lump of sugar and sat down by her mother. + +"Zalia, have you only one lamp?" asked Treze. + +"That's all, Treze, but I have the candle." + +"What candle?" + +"The blessed candle." + +"We've not come to that yet: it's only that Zeen has to lie in the dark +like this and we have to go to and fro with the lamp to look at him." + +"Zeen would rather lie in the dark." + +"I'll tell you what: Fietje shall run home and fetch something, won't +you, Fietje? And say that mother is going to stay here because Zeen is +dying." + +Fietje went off. The coffee was ready and when they had gulped down their +first bowl, they went to have another look in the room where the sick man +lay. + +Zeen was worse. + +"We must sit up with him," said Stanse. + +"For sure," said Treze. "I'll go and tell my man: I'll be back at once." + +"Tell Free as you're passing that I'm staying here too," said Stanse. + +"We must eat, for all that," said Zalia; and she hung the potatoes over +the fire. + +Then she went to milk the goat and take it its food. It was bright as day +outside and quiet, so very quiet, with still some of the heat of the sun +lingering in the air, which weighed sultrily. She crept into the dark +goat-house, put down the pot with the food and started milking. + +"Betje, Betje, Zeen is so ill; Zeen may be dying, Betje!" + +She always clacked to her goat like that. Two streams of milk came +clattering in turns into the little pail. + +People came: Treze and Mite's little girl, with a lantern, and Barbara +Dekkers, who had also come to have a look. + +"I'm here," said Zalia, "I've done, I'm coming at once." + +They stood talking a bit outside in the moonlight and then went in. + +"Perhaps my man'll come on," said Treze. "A man is better than three +women in illness; and Virginie's coming too: I've been to tell her." + +"Well, well," said Barbara, "who'd ever have thought it of Zeen!" + +"Yes, friends, and never been ill in his life; and he turned seventy." + +Stanse mashed the potatoes; Zalia poured a drain of milk over them and +hung them over the fire again. + +"Have you all had your suppers?" she asked. + +"Yes," said Treze and Barbara and Mite. + +"I haven't," said Stanse. + +Zalia turned the steaming potato-mash into an earthen porringer and she +and Stanse sat down to it. The others drank a fresh bowl of coffee. + +They were silent. + +The door opened and from behind the screen came a great big fellow with a +black beard: + +"What's up here? A whole gathering of people: is it harvest-treat to-day, +Zalia? Why, here's Barbara and Mite and...." + +"Warten, Zeen is ill." + +"Zeen?... Ill?" + +"Yes, ill, man, and we're sitting up." + +Warten opened wide eyes, flung the box which he carried over his shoulder +by a leather strap to the ground and sat down on it: + +"Ha! So Zeen's ill... he's not one of the youngest either." + +"Seventy-five." + +They were silent. The womenfolk drank their coffee. Warten fished out a +pipe and tobacco from under his blue smock and sat looking at the rings +of smoke that wound up to the ceiling. + +"Well, perhaps I've come at the right time, if that's so." + +"You can help sit up." + +"Have you had your supper, Warten?" + +"Yes, Zalia, at the farm." + +"And how's trade?" asked Stanse. + +"Quietly, old girl." + +They heard a moaning in the other room. Barbara lit the lantern and all +went to look. Warten stayed behind, smoking. + +Zeen lay there, on a poverty-stricken little bed, low down near the +ground, behind the loom, huddled deep on his bolster under a dirty +blanket: a thin little black chap, leaning against a pillow in the +dancing twilight of the lantern. His eyes were closed and his bony face +half-hidden in the blue night-cap. His breath rustled; and each puff from +his hoarse throat, blowing out the thin flesh of his cheeks, escaped +through a little opening on one side of his sunken lips, which each time +opened and shut. + +"Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!" cried Barbara. + +"That's bad, that's bad," said Stanse and shook her head. + +"His eyes are shut and yet he's not asleep!" + +"Zeen! Zeen!" cried Mite and she pushed him back by his forehead to make +him look up. "Zeen! Zeen! It's I: don't you know Mite?" + +"Oof!" sighed Zeen; and his head dropped down again without his eyes +opening. + +"He's got the fever," said Barbara. "Just feel how his forehead's burning +and he's as hot as fire." + +"Haven't you poulticed him?" asked Stanse. "He wants poultices on his +feet: mustard." + +"We haven't any mustard and it's far to the village." + +"Then he must have a bran bath, Zalia. Stanse, put on the kettle." + +"Have you any bran, Zalia?" + +"No, not ready; but there's maize." + +"And a sieve?" + +"Yes, there's a sieve." + +"Hi, Warten, come and sift!" + +Warten came in: + +"Zeen, how are you, my boy? Oh, how thin he is! And his breath ... it's +spluttering, that's bad. He'll go off quickly, Barbara, it seems to me." + +"Not to-night," said Treze. + +"Warten, go to the loft, take the lamp and sift out a handful of maize; +Zeen must have a bran bath at once." + +Warten went up the stair. After a while, they heard above their heads the +regular, jogging drag of the sieve over the boarded ceiling and the fine +meal-dust snowed down through the cracks, whirling round the lamp, and +fell on Zeen's bed and on the women standing round. + +Zeen nodded his head. They held a bowl of milk to his mouth; two little +white streaks ran down from the corners of his mouth into his +shirt-collar. + +The sieve went on dragging. The women looked at Zeen, then at one another +and then at the lantern. In the kitchen, the kettle sang drearily.... + +Warten came down from the loft with half a pailful of bran. Barbara +poured the steaming water on it and flung in a handful of salt. + +They took the clothes off the bed and pulled his feet into the +bran-water. Zeen groaned; he opened his eyes wide and looked round wildly +at all those people. + +He hung there for a very long time, with his lean black legs out of the +bed and the bony knees and shrunk thighs in the insipid, sickly-smelling +steam of the bran-water. Then they lifted him out and stuck his wet feet +under the bedclothes again. Zeen did not stir, but just lay with the +rattle in his throat. + +"What a sad sick man," said Stanse, softly. + +Mite wanted to give him some food, eggs: it might be faintness. + +Treze wanted to bring him round with gin: her husband had once.... + +"Is there any, for the night?..." asked Stanse. + +"There's a whole bottle over there, in the cupboard." + +Zeen opened his eyes--two green, glazed eyes, which no longer saw +things--and wriggled his arms from under the clothes: + +"Why don't you make the goat stop bleating?" he stammered. + +They looked at one another. + +"Zalia, why won't you speak to me?... And what are all these people doing +here?... I don't want any one to help me die!... I and Zalia.... I and +Zalia.... Look, how beautiful! Zalia, the procession's going up the wall +there.... Why don't you look?... It's so beautiful!... And I, I'm the +only ugly one in it...." + +"He's wandering," whispered Treze. + +"And what's that chap doing here, Zalia?" + +"It's I, Zeen, I: Warten the spectacle-man." + +His eyes fell to again and his cheeks again blew the breath through the +little slit of his mouth. It rattled; and the fever rose. + +"It'll be to-night," said Treze. + +"Where can Virginie be? She'll come too late." + +"Virginie is better than three doctors or a priest either," thought Mite. + +"Zalia, I think I'd get out the candle." + +Zalia went to the chest and got out the candle. + +"Mother, I'm frightened," whined Fietje. + +"You mustn't be frightened of dead people, child; you must get used to +it." + +"Have you any holy water, Zalia?" + +"Oh, yes, Barbara: it's in the little pot over the bed!" + +"And blessed palm?" + +"Behind the crucifix." + +There was a creaking in the kitchen and Virginie appeared past the loom: +a little old woman huddled in her hooded cloak; in one hand she carried a +little lantern and in the other a big prayer-book. She came quietly up to +the bed, looked at Zeen for some time, felt his pulse and then, looking +up, said, very quietly: + +"Zeen's going.... Has the priest been?" + +"The priest?... It's so far and so late and the poor soul's so old...." + +"What have you given him?" + +"Haarlem oil, English salt...." + +"And we put his feet in bran water." + +Virginie stood thinking. + +"Have you any linseed-meal?" she asked. + +"No." + +"Then ... but it's too late now, any way...." + +And she looked into the sick man's eyes again. + +"He's very far gone," thought Mite. + +"Got worse quickly," said Barbara. + +Zalia said nothing; she stood at the foot of the bed, looking at her +husband and then at the women who were saying what they thought of him. + +"Get the blessed candle; we must pray, good people," said Virginie; and +she put on her spectacles and went and stood with her book under the +light. + +The women knelt on low chairs or on the floor. Warten stood with his +elbows leaning on the rail of the bed, at Zeen's head. Treze took the +blessed candle out of its paper covering and lit it at the lamp. + +Zeen's chest rose and fell and his throat rattled painfully; his eyes +stood gazing dimly at the rafters of the ceiling; his thin lips were pale +and his face turned blue with the pain; he no longer looked like a living +thing. + +Virginie read very slowly, with a dismal, drawling voice, through her +nose, while Treze held Zeen's weak fingers closed round the candle. It +was still as death. + +"May the Light of the World, Christ Jesus, Who is symbolized by this +candle, brightly light thy eyes that thou mayest not depart this life in +death everlasting. Our Father...." + +They softly muttered this Our Father and it remained solemnly still, with +only Warten's rough grunting and Zeen's painful breathing and the goat +which kept ramming its head against the wall. And then, slower by +degrees: + +"Depart, O Christian soul, from this sorrowful world; go to meet thy dear +Bridegroom, Christ Jesus, and carry a lighted candle in thy hands: He +Who...." + +Then Barbara, interrupting her, whispered: + +"Look, Virginie, he's getting worse; the rattle's getting fainter: turn +over, you'll be too late." + +Treze was tired of holding Zeen's hand round the candle: she spilt a few +drops of wax on the rail of the bed and stuck the candle on it. + +Zeen jerked himself up, put his hands under the clothes and fumbled with +them; then he lay still. + +"He's packing up," whispered Barbara. + +"He's going," one of the others thought. + +Virginie dipped the palm-branch into the holy water and sprinkled the bed +and the bystanders; then she read on: + +"Go forth, O Christian soul, out of this world, in the name of God the +Father Almighty, Who created thee, in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son +of the living God, Who suffered for thee; in the name of the Holy Ghost, +Who sanctified thee." + +"Hurry, hurry, Virginie: he's almost stopped breathing!" + +The cat jumped between Zalia and Treze on to the bed and went making +dough with its front paws on the clothes; it looked surprised at all +those people and purred softly. Warten drove it away with his cap. + +"Receive, O Lord, Thy servant Zeen into the place of salvation which he +hopes to obtain through Thy mercy." + +"Amen," they all answered. + +"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of Thy servant from all danger of hell and +from all pain and tribulation." + +"Amen." + +"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of Thy servant Zeen, as Thou deliveredst Enoch +and Elias from the common death of the world." + +"Amen." + +"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of Thy servant Zeen, as Thou deliveredst...." + +"I'm on fire! I'm on fire!" howled Warten. "My smock! My smock!" + +And he jumped over all the chairs and rushed outside, with the others +after him. + +"Caught fire at the candle!" he cried, quite out of breath. + +They put out the flames, pulled the smock over his head and poured water +on his back, where his underclothes were smouldering. + +"My smock, my smock!" he went on moaning. "Brand-new! Cost me forty-six +stuivers!" + +And he stood with his smock in his hands, looking at the huge holes and +rents. + +They made a great noise, all together, and their sharp voices rang far +and wide into the still night. + +Virginie alone had remained by the bedside. She picked up the candle, lit +it again, put it back on the rail of the bed and then went on reading the +prayers. When she saw that Zeen lay very calmly and no longer breathed, +she sprinkled him with holy water for the last time and then went +outside: + +"People ... he's with the Lord." + +It was as if their fright had made them forget what was happening +indoors: they rushed in, eager to know ... and Zeen was dead. + +"Stone-dead," said Barbara. + +"Hopped the twig!" said Warten. + +"Quick! Hurry! The tobacco-seed will be tainted!" screamed Mite; and she +snatched down two or three linen bags which hung from the rafters and +carried them outside. + +First they moaned; then they tried to comfort one another, especially +Zalia, who had dropped into a chair and turned very pale. + +Then they set to work: Treze filled the little glasses; Barbara hung the +water over the fire; and Warten, in his shirt-sleeves, stropped his razor +to shave Zeen's beard. + +"And the children! The children who are not here!" moaned Zalia. "He +ought to have seen the children!" + +"First say the prayers," ordered Virginie. + +All knelt down and, while Warten shaved the dead man, it went: + +"Come to his assistance, all ye saints of God; meet him, all ye angels of +God: receiving his soul, offering it in the sight of the Most High.... + +"To Thee, O Lord, we commend the soul of Thy servant, that being dead to +this world, he may live to Thee; and whatever sins he has committed in +this life, through human frailty, do Thou, in Thy most merciful goodness, +forgive...." + +"Amen," they answered. + +Virginie shut her book, once more sprinkled holy water on the corpse and +went home, praying as she went. + +Zalia made the sign of the Cross and closed her husband's eyes; then she +laid a white towel on a little table by the bed and put the candle on it +and the crucifix and the holy water. + +Warten and Barbara took Zeen out of the bed and put him on a chair, +washed him all over with luke-warm water, put a clean shirt on him and +his Sunday clothes over him; then they laid him on the bed again. + +"He'll soon begin to must," said Barbara. + +"The weather's warm." + +"He's very bent: how'll they get him into the coffin?" + +"Crack his back." + +Treze looked round for a prayer-book to lay under Zeen's chin and a +crucifix and rosary for his hands. + +Mite took a red handkerchief and bound it round his head to keep his +mouth closed. Fietje was still kneeling and saying Our Fathers. + +"It's done now," said Barbara, with a deep sigh. "We'll have just one +more glass and then go to bed." + +"Oh, dear people, stay a little longer!" whined Zalia. "Don't leave me +here alone." + +"It's only," said Mite, "that it'll be light early to-morrow and we've +had no sleep yet." + +"Come, come," said Barbara, to comfort her, "you mustn't take on now. +Zeen has lived his span and has died happily in his bed." + +"Question is, shall we do as well?" said Mite. + +"And Siska and Romenie and Kordula and the boys, who are not here! They +ought to have seen their father die!... The poor children, they'll cry +so!" + +"They'll know it in good time," said Warten. + +"And where are they living now?" asked Mite. + +"In France, the two oldest ... and there's Miel, the soldier ... it's in +their letters, behind the glass." + +"Give 'em to me," said Treze. "I'll make my boy write to-morrow, before +he goes to school." + +They were going off. + +"And I, who, with this all, don't know where I'm to sleep," said Warten. +"My old roost, over the goat-house: you'll be wanting that to-night, +Zalia?" + +Zalia wavered. + +"Zalia could come with me," said Barbara. + +"And leave the house alone? And who's to go to the priest to-morrow? And +to the carpenter? And my harvest, my harvest! Yes, yes, Warten, do you +get into the goat-house and help me a bit to-morrow. I shall sleep: why +not?" + +"_Alla_[12], come, Fietje; mother's going home." + +[12] A corruption of the French _allez!_ + +They went; and Zalia came a bit of the way with them. Their wooden shoes +clattered softly in the powdery sand of the white road; when they had +gone very far, their voices still rang loud and their figures looked like +wandering pollards. + +In the east, a thin golden-red streak hung between two dark clouds. It +was very cool. + +"Fine weather to-morrow," said Warten; and he trudged off to his +goat-house. "Good-night, Zalia." + +"Good-night, Warten." + +"Sleep well." + +"Sleep well too and say another Our Father for Zeen." + +"Certainly." + +She went in and bolted the door. Inside it all smelt of candle and the +musty odour of the corpse. She put out the fire in the hearth, dipped her +fingers once more in the holy water and made a cross over Zeen. While her +lips muttered the evening prayers, she took off her kerchief, her jacket +and her cap and let fall her skirt. Then she straddled across Zeen and +lay right against the wall. She twisted her feet in her shift and crept +carefully under the bed-clothes. She shuddered. Her thoughts turned like +the wind: her daughters were in service in France and were now sleeping +quietly and knew of nothing; her eldest, who was married, and her husband +and the children came only once a year to see their father; and even +then.... And now they would find him dead. + +Her harvest ... and she was alone now, to get it in. Warten would go to +the priest early in the morning and to the carpenter: the priest ought to +have been here, 'twas a comfort after all; but Zeen had always been good +and ... now to go dying all at once like this, without the sacraments.... + +Why couldn't she sleep now? She was so tired, so worn out with that +reaping; and it was so warm here, so stifling and it smelt queer: what a +being could come to, when he was dead! + +Had she slept at all? She had been lying there so long ... and there was +that smell! She wished she had sent Warten away and gone herself to lie +in the goat-house; here, beside that corpse ... but, after all, it was +Zeen.... + +The flame of the candle flickered and everything flickered with it--the +loom, the black rafters and the crucifix--in dark shadow-stripes upon the +wall. 'Twas that kept her awake. She sat up and blew from where she was, +but the flame danced more than ever and kept on burning. Then she +carefully stepped across Zeen and nipped out the candle with her fingers. +It was dark now.... She strode back into bed, stepping on Zeen's leg; and +the corpse shook and the stomach rumbled. She held herself tucked against +the wall, twisted and turned, pinched her eyes to, but did not sleep. The +smell got into her nose and throat and it became very irksome, +unbearable. And she got out of bed again, to open the window. A fresh +breeze blew into the room; far away beyond, the sky began to brighten; +and behind the cornfield she heard the singing beat of a sickle and the +whistling of a sad, drawling street-ditty: + +"They're at work already." + +Now she lay listening to the whizzing beat and the rustle of the falling +corn and that drawling, never-changing tune.... + +The funeral would be the day after to-morrow: already she saw all the +troop passing along the road and then in the church and then ... all +alone, home again. Zeen was dead now and she remained ... and all those +children, her children, who still had so long to live, would also grow +old, in their turn, and die ... ever on ... and all that misery and +slaving and then to go ... and Zeen, her Zeen, the Zeen of yesterday, who +was still alive then and not ill. Her Zeen; and she saw him as a young +man over forty years ago: a handsome chap he was. She had lived so long +with Zeen and had known him so well, better than her own self; and that +he should now be lying there beside her ... cold ... and never again ... +that he should now be dead. + +Then she broke down and wept. + + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Path of Life, by Stijn Streuvels + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PATH OF LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 8437-8.txt or 8437-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/4/3/8437/ + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Thomas Berger, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/8437-8.zip b/8437-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ed05cef --- /dev/null +++ b/8437-8.zip diff --git a/8437-h.zip b/8437-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..94e560f --- /dev/null +++ b/8437-h.zip diff --git a/8437-h/8437-h.htm b/8437-h/8437-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4259558 --- /dev/null +++ b/8437-h/8437-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6277 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + The Path of Life, by Stijn Streuvels + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Path of Life, by Stijn Streuvels + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Path of Life + +Author: Stijn Streuvels + +Translator: Alexander Teixeira De Mattos + + +Release Date: July, 2005 [EBook #8437] +This file was first posted on July 10, 2003 +Last Updated: November 19, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PATH OF LIFE *** + + + + +Text file produced by Eric Eldred, Thomas Berger, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE PATH OF LIFE + </h1> + <h2> + By Stijn Streuvels + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated from the West-Flemish by <br /> <br /> Alexander Teixeira De + Mattos + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> TRANSLATOR’s NOTE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> I. THE WHITE SAND-PATH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> II. IN EARLY WINTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> III. CHRISTMAS NIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> IV. LOAFING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> V. SPRING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VI. IN THE SQUALL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VII. A PIPE OR NO PIPE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> VIII. ON SUNDAYS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> IX. AN ACCIDENT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> X. WHITE LIFE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XI. THE END </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_FOOT"> FOOTNOTES: </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TRANSLATOR’s NOTE + </h2> + <p> + In introducing this new writer to the English-speaking public, I may be + permitted to give a few particulars of himself and his life. Stijn + Streuvels is accepted not only in Belgium, but also in Holland as the most + distinguished Low-Dutch author of our time: his vogue, in fact, is even + greater in the North Netherlands than in the southern kingdom. And I will + go further and say that I know no greater living writer of imaginative + prose in any land or any language. His medium is the West-Flemish dialect, + which is spoken by perhaps a million people inhabiting the stretch of + country that forms the province of West Flanders and is comprised within + the irregular triangle outlined by the North Sea on the west, the French + frontier of Flanders on the south and a line drawn at one-third of the + distance between Bruges and Ghent on the east. In addition to Bruges and + Ostend, this province of West Flanders includes such towns as Poperinghe, + Ypres and Courtrai; and so subtly subdivided is the West-Flemish dialect + that there are words which a man of Bruges will use to a man of Poperinghe + and not be understood. + </p> + <p> + It is one of the most interesting dialects known to me, containing numbers + of mighty mediaeval words which survive in daily use; and it is one of the + richest: rich especially—and this is not usual in dialects—in + words expressive of human characteristics and of physical sensations. + </p> + <p> + Thus there is a word to describe a man who is not so much a poor wretch, + <i>un misérable</i>, as what Tom Hood loved to call “a hapless wight:” one + who is poor and wretched and outcast and out of work, not through any + fault of his own, through idleness or fecklessness, but through sheer + ill-luck. There is a word to describe what we feel when we hear the + tearing of silk or the ripping of calico, a word expressing that sense of + angry irritation which gives a man a gnawing in the muscles of the arms, a + word that tells what we really feel in our hair when we pretend that it + “stands on end.” It is a sturdy, manly dialect, moreover, spoken by a + fine, upstanding race of “chaps,” “fellows,” “mates,” “wives,” and + “women-persons,” for your Fleming rarely talks of “men” or “women.” It is + also a very beautiful dialect, having many words that possess a charm all + their own. Thus <i>monkelen</i>, the West-Flemish for the verb “to smile,” + is prettier and has an archer sound than its Dutch equivalent, <i>glimlachen</i>. + And it is a dialect of sufficient importance to boast a special dictionary + (<i>Westvlaamsch Idiotikon</i>, by the Rev. L. L. De Bo: Bruges, 1873) of + 1,488 small-quarto pages, set in double column. + </p> + <p> + In translating Streuvels’ sketches, I have given a close rendering: to use + a homely phrase, their flavour is very near the knuckle; and I have been + anxious to lose no more of it than must inevitably be lost through the + mere act of translation. I hope that I may be forgiven for one or two + phrases, which, though not existing, so far as I am aware, in any country + or district where the English tongue is spoken, are not entirely foreign + to the genius of that tongue. Here and there, but only where necessary, I + have added an explanatory foot-note. + </p> + <p> + For those interested in such matters, I may say that Stijn Streuvels’ real + name is Frank Lateur. He is a nephew of Guido Gezelle, the poet-priest, + whose statue graces the public square at Courtrai, unless indeed by this + time those shining apostles of civilization, the Germans, have destroyed + it. Until ten years ago, when he began to come into his own, he lived at + Avelghem, in the south-east corner of West Flanders, hard by Courtrai and + the River Lys, and there baked bread for the peasant-fellows and + peasant-wives. For you must know that this foremost writer of the + Netherlands was once a baker and stood daily at sunrise, bare-chested, + before his glowing oven, drawing bread for the folk of his village. The + stories and sketches in the present volume all belong to that period. + </p> + <p> + Of their number, <i>Christmas Night</i>, <i>A Pipe or no Pipe</i>, <i>On + Sundays</i> and <i>The End</i> have appeared in the <i>Fortnightly Review</i>, + which was the first to give Stijn Streuvels the hospitality of its pages; + <i>In Early Winter</i> and <i>White Life</i> in the <i>English Review</i>; + <i>The White Sand-path</i> in the <i>Illustrated London News</i>; <i>An + Accident in Everyman</i>; and <i>Loafing</i> in the <i>Lady’s Realm</i>. + The remainder are now printed in English for the first time. + </p> + <h3> + ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS. + </h3> + <p> + Chelsea, <i>April</i>, 1915. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. THE WHITE SAND-PATH + </h2> + <p> + I was a devil of a scapegrace in my time. No tree was too high for me, no + water too deep; and, when there was mischief going, I was the ring-leader + of the band. Father racked his head for days together to find a punishment + that I should remember; but it was all no good: he wore out three or four + birch-rods on my back; his hands pained him merely from hitting my hard + head; and bread and water was a welcome change to me from the everyday + monotony of potatoes and bread-and-butter. After a sound drubbing followed + by half a day’s fasting, I felt more like laughing than like crying; and, + in half a while, all was forgotten and my wickedness began afresh and + worse than ever. + </p> + <p> + One summer’s evening, I came home in fine fettle. I and ten of my + school-fellows had played truant: we had gone to pick apples in the + priest’s orchard; and we had pulled the burgomaster’s calf into the brook + to teach it to swim, but the banks were too high and the beast was + drowned. Father, who had heard of these happenings, laid hold of me in a + rage and gave me a furious trouncing with a poker, after which, instead of + turning me into the road, as his custom was, he caught me up fair and + square, carried me to the loft, flung me down on the floor and bolted the + trap-door behind him. + </p> + <p> + In the loft! Heavenly goodness, in the loft! + </p> + <p> + Of an evening I never dared think of the place; and in bright sunshine I + went there but seldom and then always in fear. + </p> + <p> + I lay as dead, pinched my eyes to and pondered on my wretched plight. + ‘Twas silent all around; I heard nothing, nothing. That lasted pretty + long, till I began to feel that the boards were so hard and that my body, + which had been thrashed black and blue, was hurting me. My back was stiff + and my arms and legs grew cold. And yet I nor wished nor meant to stir: + that was settled in my head. In the end, it became unbearable: I drew in + my right leg, shifted my arm and carefully opened my eyes. ‘Twas so + ghastly, oh, so frightfully dark and warm: I could see the warm darkness; + so funny, that steep, slanting tiled roof, crossed by black rafters, beams + and laths, and all that space beyond, which disappeared in the dark + ridgework: ‘twas like a deserted, haunted booth at a fair, during the + night. Over my head, like threatening blunderbusses, old trousers and + jackets hung swinging, with empty arms and legs: they looked just like + fellows that had been hanged! And it grew darker, steadily darker. + </p> + <p> + My eyes stood fixed and I heard my breath come and go. I pondered how + ‘twould end here. That lasting silence affrighted me; the anxious waiting + for that coming night: to have to spend a long, long night here alone! My + hair itched and pricked on my head. And the rats! I gave a great loud + scream. It rang in anguish through the sloping vault of the loft. I + listened as it died away ... and nothing followed. I screamed again and + again and went on, till my throat was torn. + </p> + <p> + The gruesome thought of those rats and of that long night drove me mad + with fear. I rolled about on the floor, I struck out with my arms and + legs, like one possessed, in violent, childish fury. Then, worn out, I let + my arms and legs rest; at last, tired, swallowed up in my helplessness, + left without will or feeling, I waited for what was to come. I had + terribly wicked thoughts: of escaping from the house, of setting fire to + the house, of <i>murder</i>! I was an outcast, I was being tortured. I + should have liked to show them what I could do, who I was; to see them + hunting for me and crying; and then to run away, always farther away, and + never come back again. + </p> + <p> + Downstairs, the plates and forks were clattering for supper. I was not + hungry; I did not wish nor mean to eat. I heard soft, quiet voices + talking: that made me desperate; they were not speaking of me! They had no + thought nor care for the miscreant; they would liefst have him dead, out + of the way. And I was in the loft! + </p> + <p> + Later, very much later, I heard my little brother’s voice saying evening + prayers—I would not pray—and then I heard nothing more, + nothing; and I lay there, upstairs, lonely and forlorn.... + </p> + <p> + I walked all alone in the forest, through the brushwood. ‘Twas half-dark + below; but, above the bushes, the sun was playing as through a green + curtain. I went on and on. The bushes here grew thick now and the tiny + path was lost. After long creeping and stumbling, I leapt across a ditch + and entered the wide drove. It did not seem strange to me that ‘twas even + darker here and that the light, instead of from above, came streaming low + down from between the trunks of the trees. The vault was closed leaf-tight + and the trunks hung down from out of it like pillars. ‘Twas silent all + around. I went, as I thought that I must see the sun, round behind the + trunks, half anxious at last to get out of that magic forest; but new + trees kept coming up, as though out of the ground, and hid the sun. I + would have liked to run, but felt I know not what in my legs that made me + drag myself on. + </p> + <p> + Far beyond, on the road-side grass, sat two boys. It was ... but no, they + were sitting there too glumly! I went up to them and, after all, knew them + for Sarelke and Lowietje, the village-constable’s children. They sat with + their legs in the ditch, their elbows on their knees, earnestly chatting. + I sat down beside them, but they did not even look up, did not notice me. + Those two boys, my schoolmates, the worst two scamps in the village, sat + there like two worn-out old fogies: they did not know me. This ought to + have surprised me, and yet I thought that it must be right and that it had + always been so. They chatted most calmly of the price of marbles, of the + way to tell the best hoops, of buying a new box of tin soldiers; and they + mumbled their words as slowly as the priest in his pulpit. I became + uncomfortable, felt ill at ease in that stifling air, under that half-dusk + of the twilight, where everything was happening so earnestly, so very + slowly and so heavily. I, who was all for sport and child’s-play, now + found my own chums so altered; and they no longer knew me. I would have + liked to shout, to grip them hard by the shoulder and call out that it was + I: I, I, I! But I durst not, or could not. + </p> + <p> + “There—comes—the—keeper,” droned Sarelke. + </p> + <p> + Lowietje looked down the drove with his great glassy eyes. The two boys + stood up and, without speaking, shuffled away. I saw them get smaller and + smaller, till they became two black, hovering little specks that vanished + round the bend. + </p> + <p> + I was alone again! Alone, with all those trees, in that frightful silence + all around me. And the keeper, where was he? He would come, I knew it; and + I felt afraid of the awful fellow. I must get away from this, I must hide + myself. I lay down, very slowly, deep in the ditch. I now felt that I had + been long, long dead and that I was lying here alone, waiting for I forget + what. That keeper: was there such a person? He now seemed to me an awesome + clod of earth, which came rolling down, slowly but steadily, and which + would fall heavily upon me. Then he turned into a lovely white ashplant, + which stood there waving its boughs in a stately manner. I would let him + go past and then would go away. People were waiting for me, I had to be + somewhere: I tried mightily to remember where, but could not. + </p> + <p> + The keeper did not come. + </p> + <p> + The ditch was cold, the bottom was of smooth, worn stone and very hard. I + lay there with gleaming eyes: above my head stood the giant oaks, + silently, and their knotted branches ran up and were lost in the dark sky. + </p> + <p> + The keeper came, I heard his coming; and the wind blew fearfully through + the trees. I shivered.... + </p> + <p> + I woke with fright and I was still lying in my loft. The hard bottom of + the ditch was the boarded floor and the tree-trunks were the legs of + father’s trousers and the branches ran up and were lost in the darksome + roofwork. Two sharp rays of light beamed through the shut dormer-window. + It must be day then! And this awful night was past! All my dismay was gone + and a bold feeling came over me, something like the feeling of gladness + that follows on a solved problem. I would make Lowietje and Sarelke and + all the boys at school hark to my tale, that I would! I had slept a whole + night alone in the loft! And the rats! And the ghosts! Ooh! And not a whit + afraid! + </p> + <p> + I got up, but that was such a slow business. I still felt that dream and + that slackness in my limbs. I was so stiff; that heavy gloom, that slow + passing of time still lingered—just as in my dream—in my slow + breathing. I still saw that forest and, shut up as I was, with not a + single touchstone for my thoughts, I began to doubt if my dream was done + and I had to feel the trouser-legs to make sure that they were not really + trees. + </p> + <p> + Time stood still and there was no getting out of my mind the strange + things seen in that dream-forest, with those earnest, sluggish, elderly + children and that queer keeper. ‘Twas as though some one were holding my + arms and legs tight to make them move heavily, deadly heavily; and I felt + myself, within my head, grown quite thirty years older, become suddenly an + old man. I walked about the loft; I wanted to make myself heard, but my + footsteps gave no sound. + </p> + <p> + I grew awfully hungry. Near the ladder-door, I found my prison fare. I + nibbled greedily at my crust of bread and took a good drink of water. + </p> + <p> + I now felt better, but this doing nothing wearied me; I became sad and + felt sorry to be sitting alone. If things had gone their usual gait, I + should now be with my mates at school or playing somewhere under the open + sky; and that open sky now first revealed all its delightfulness. The + usual gait, when all was said, was by far the best.... All alone like + this, up here.... Should I go down and beg father’s pardon? Then ‘twould + all be over and done with.... + </p> + <p> + “No!” said something inside me, “I stay here!” + </p> + <p> + And I stayed. + </p> + <p> + I shoved a box under the dormer-window, I pushed open the wooden shutter + ... and there! Before me lay the wide stretch in the blazing sunlight! My + eyes were quite blind with it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Twas good up here and funny to see everything from so high up, so + endlessly far! And the people were no bigger than tiny tadpoles! + </p> + <p> + Just under my dormer-window came a path, a white sand-path winding from + behind the house and then running forwards to the horizon in a line + straight as an arrow. It looked like a naked strip of ground, powdered + white and showing up sharply, like a flat snake, in the middle of the + green fields which, broken into their many-coloured squares, lay blinking + in the sun. + </p> + <p> + This path was deserted, lonely, as though nor man nor beast had ever + trodden it. It lay very near the house and I did not know it from up here; + it looked now like a long strip of drab linen, which lay bleaching in a + boundless meadow. And that again suited my loneliness so well! At last, I + looked and saw nothing more. And that path!... + </p> + <p> + Slowly, overcome by that silent, restful idleness, I fell a-dreaming; and + that path, that long, white path seemed to me to have become a part of my + own being, something like a life that began over there, far away yonder in + the clear blue, to end in the unknown, here, behind the gable-end, cut off + at that fatal bend. + </p> + <p> + After long looking, I saw something, very far off; it came so slowly, so + softly, like a thing that grows, and those two little black patches grew + into two romping schoolboys, who, rolling and leaping along, came running + down the white sand-path and, at last, disappeared in the bend behind the + gable-end. + </p> + <p> + Then, for another long while, nothing more, nothing but sand, green and + sunshine. + </p> + <p> + Later, ‘twas three labourers, who came stepping up briskly, with their + gear over their shoulders. Half-way up the path, they jumped across the + ditch and went to work in the field. They toiled on, without looking up or + round, toiled on till I got tired of watching and tired of those three + stooping men and of seeing that gleaming steel flicker in the sun and go + in and out of the earth. + </p> + <p> + When now ‘twas mid-day and fiercely hot in my loft, my three labourers sat + down behind a tree and ate their noonday meal. + </p> + <p> + I went to the loft-door and devoured my second crust of bread and took a + fresh gulp of water. + </p> + <p> + Very calmly, without thinking, lame with the heat and with that old-man’s + feeling still inside me, I went and sat at the window. + </p> + <p> + The three men worked on, always, without stopping. + </p> + <p> + And that went on, went on, until the evening! When ‘twas nearly dark, they + gathered up their tools, jumped over the ditch, walked down the path the + way they had come and disappeared behind the gable-end. + </p> + <p> + Now it became deadly. + </p> + <p> + In the distance appeared a great black patch, which came slowly nearer and + nearer. The patch turned into a lazy, slow-stepping ox, with a jolting, + creaking waggon, in which sat a little old man who gazed stupidly in front + of him into the dark distance. The cart dragged along wearily, creeping + through the sand, and first the ox, then the little fellow, then the + waggon disappeared behind the gable-end. + </p> + <p> + Now I felt something like fear and I shivered: the evening was coming so + slowly, so sadly; and I dared not think of the night that was to follow. + ‘Twas the first time in my life that I fell earnestly a-thinking. So that + path there became a life, a long-drawn-out, earnest life.... That was + quite plain in my head; and those boys had rolled and tumbled along that + path; next, those big men had burdensomely, most burdensomely turned over + their bit of earth; and the ox and the little old fellow had joggled along + it so piteously.... That life was so earnest and I had seen it all from so + far, from the outside of it: I did nothing, I took no part in it and yet I + lived ... and must also one day go along that path! + </p> + <p> + And how? + </p> + <p> + Getting up in the morning, eating, playing, going to school, misbehaving, + playing, eating, sleeping.... + </p> + <p> + The mist rose out of the fields and I saw nothing more. + </p> + <p> + I jumped off my box, begged father’s pardon and crept into bed. + </p> + <p> + Never again was I shut up in the loft. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. IN EARLY WINTER + </h2> + <p> + First the leaves had become pale, deathly pale; later they turned + yellow-brown; and then they went fluttering and flickering, so wearily, so + slackly, like the wings of dying birds; and, one after the other, they + began to fall, dancing gently downwards, in eddies. They whirled in the + air, were carried on by the wind and at last fell dead and settled + somewhere in the mud. + </p> + <p> + Not a living thing was to be seen and the cottages that sat huddled close + to the ground remained fast shut; the smoke from the chimneys alone still + gave a sign of life. + </p> + <p> + The green drove now stood bare and bleak: two rows of straight trunks + which grew less and faded away in the blue mist. + </p> + <p> + Yonder comes something creeping up: a shapeless thing, like two little + black stripes, with something else; and it approaches.... + </p> + <p> + At last and at length, out of those little stripes, appear a man and a + wife; and, out of the other thing, a barrel-organ on a cart, with a dog + between the wheels. + </p> + <p> + It all looked the worse for wear. The little fellow went bent between the + shafts and tugged; the little old woman’s lean arms pushed against the + organ-case; and the wheeled thing jolted on like that over the cart-ruts, + along the drove and through the wide gate of an honest homestead. + </p> + <p> + A flight of black crows sailed across the sky. The wind soughed through + the naked tree-tops; the mist rose and the world thinned away in a bluey + haze; this all vanished and slowly it became dark black night. + </p> + <p> + Man, woman and dog, they crept, all three, high into the loft and deep + into the hay; and they dozed away, like all else outside them and around. + Warm they lay there! And dream they did, of the cold, of the dark and of + the sad moaning wind! + </p> + <p> + At early morning, before it was bright day, they were on the tramp, over + the fallow fields, and drowned in a huge sea of thick blue mist. They + pulled for all they could: the little fellow in the shafts, the little old + woman behind the cart and the dog, with his head to the ground, for the + road’s sake. + </p> + <p> + A red glow broke in the east and a new day brightened. ‘Twas all white, + snow-white, as if the blue mist had bleached, melted and stuck fast on the + black fields, on the half-withered autumn fruits and on the dark fretwork + of the trees. Great drops dripped from the boughs. + </p> + <p> + From under the peak of his cap, the fellow peered into the distance with + his one eye, and he saw a church and houses. They went that way. + </p> + <p> + ‘Twas low-roofed cottages they saw, all covered with hoar-frost; here and + there stood one alone and then a whole little row, crowded close together: + a street. + </p> + <p> + They were in the village. + </p> + <p> + It was lone and still, like a cloister, with here a little woman who, + tucked into her hooded cloak, crept along the houses to the church; there + a smith who hammered ... and the little church-bell, which tinkled over + the house-tops. + </p> + <p> + They stopped. The dog sat down to look. The little fellow threw off his + shoulder-strap, pulled his cap down lower and felt under the red-brown + organ-cloth for the handle. He gave a look at the houses that stood before + him, pinched his sunken mouth, wiped the seam of his sleeve over his face + and started grinding. Half-numbed sounds came trickling into the chill + street from under the organ-cloth: a sad—once, perhaps, + dance-provoking—tune, which now, false, dragging and twisted out of + shape, was like a muddled crawling of sounds all jumbled up together; some + came too soon, the others too late, as in a weariful dream; and, in + between, a sighing and creaking which came from very deep down, at each + third or fourth turn, and was deadened again at once in those + ever-recurring rough organ-sounds or dragged on and deafened in a mad + dance. ‘Twas like a poor little huddled soul uttering its plaint amid the + hullabaloo of rude men shouting aloud in the street. + </p> + <p> + The dog also had begun to howl when the tune started. + </p> + <p> + The little wife had settled her kerchief above her sharp-featured + old-wife’s face; and, with one hand in her apron-pocket and the other + holding a little tin can, she now went from door to door: + </p> + <p> + “For the poor blind man.... God reward you.” + </p> + <p> + And this through the whole street and farther, to the farmhouses, from the + one to the other, all day long, till evening fell again and that same + thick mist came to wrap everything in its grey, dark breath. + </p> + <p> + And again they wandered, through a drove, to a homestead and into the hay. + </p> + <p> + “The dog has pupped,” said the little old woman; and she shook her man. + </p> + <p> + “Pupped?...” + </p> + <p> + And he turned in the nest which he had made for himself, pushed his head + deeper in the hay and drowsed on. He dreamt of dogs and of pups and of + organs and of ear-splitting yelps and howls. + </p> + <p> + The dog lay in a fine, round little nest of his own, rolled into a ball + and moaning. And he<a href="#linknote-1" name="linknoteref-1" + id="linknoteref-1"><small>1</small></a> looked so sadly and kindly into + the little old woman’s eyes; and he licked, never stopped licking his + puppies. They were like three red-brown moles, each with a fat head; they + wriggled their thick little bodies together and sought about and squeaked. + </p> + <p> + The West-Fleming talks of dogs of either sex invariably as “he.” + </p> + <p> + When the tramps had swallowed their slice of rye-bread and their dish of + porridge, they went on, elsewhither. The little fellow tugged, the little + old woman pushed and the dogs hung swinging between the wheels, in a + fig-basket. So they went begging, from hamlet to hamlet, the wide world + through: an old man and woman, with their organ; and a dog with his three + young pups. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Much later.... + </p> + <p> + The thick mist had changed into bright, glittering dewdrops and the sun + shone high in the heaven. Now four dogs lay harnessed to the cart, four + red-brown dogs. And, when the handle turned and the organ played, all + those four dogs lifted their noses on high and howled uglily. + </p> + <p> + Inside, deep-hidden under the organ-cloth, sat the little soul, the + mysterious, shabby little organ-soul, grown quite hoarse now and almost + dumb. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. CHRISTMAS NIGHT + </h2> + <p> + Over there, high up among the pines, stood the house where he lived alone + with the trees and the birds; and there, every morning, he saw the sun + rise and, in the evening, sink away again. And for how many years! + </p> + <p> + In summer, the white clouds floated high over his head; the blackbirds + sang in the wood around his door; and before him, in a blue vista, lay the + whole world. + </p> + <p> + When his harvest was gathered and the days drew in, when the sky closed + up, when the dry pines shook and rocked in the sad wind and the crows + dropped like black flakes and came cawing over the fields, he closed his + windows and sat down in the dark to brood. + </p> + <p> + He must go down yonder now, to the village below. + </p> + <p> + He fetched his Christmas star from the loft, restuck the gold flowers and + paper strips and fastened them in the cleft of the long wand. Then he put + on his greatcoat, drew the hood over his head and went. + </p> + <p> + From behind the black clouds came a light, a dull copper glow, without + rays, high up where the stars were; it set golden edges to the hem of the + clouds; the heaven remained black. There appeared a little streak of + glowing copper, which grew and grew, became a sickle, a half-disk and at + last a great, round, giant gold moon, which rose and rose. It went up like + a huge round orange behind the heaven and, more and more swiftly, shot up + into the sky, growing smaller and smaller, till it became just a common + moon, the laughing moon among the stars. + </p> + <p> + He alone had seen it. + </p> + <p> + Now he took his star on his shoulder, pulled his hood deep over his head + and wandered down the little path, all over the snow, to where the lights + were burning. It was lonely, lifeless, that white plain under that + burnished sky; and he was all alone, the black fellow on the snow. And he + saw the world so big, so monotonously bleak; a flat, white wilderness, + with here and there a straight, thin poplar and a row of black, lean, + knotty willows. + </p> + <p> + He went down towards the lights. + </p> + <p> + The village lay still. The street was black with people. Great crowds of + womenfolk, tucked and muffled in black hooded cloaks, tramped as in a + dream along the houses, over the squeaking snow. They shuffled from door + to door, stuck out their bony hands and asked plaintively for their + God’s-penny. They disappeared at the end of the street and went trudging + into the endless moonlight. + </p> + <p> + Children went with lights and stars and stood gathered in groups, their + black faces glowing in the shine of their lanterns; they made a huge din + with their tooting-horns<a href="#linknote-2" name="linknoteref-2" + id="linknoteref-2"><small>2</small></a> and rumble-pot<a href="#linknote-3" + name="linknoteref-3" id="linknoteref-3"><small>3</small></a> and sang of + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Babe born in the straw +</pre> + <p> + and + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The shepherds they come here. + They’re bringing wood and fire + And this and that and t’other: + Now bring us a pot of beer. +</pre> + <p> + Mad Wanne went alone; she kept on lurching across the street with her long + legs, which stuck out far from under her skirt, and held her arms wide + open under her hooded cloak, like a demon bat. She snuffled something + about: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Twas hailing, ‘twas snowing and ‘twas bad weather + And over the roofs the wind it flew. + Saint Joseph said to Mary Maid: + “Mary, what shall we do?” + </pre> + <p> + Top<a href="#linknote-4" name="linknoteref-4" id="linknoteref-4"><small>4</small></a> + Dras, Wulf and Grendel, three fellows, tall as trees, were also loafing + round. They were the three Kings: Top had turned his big jacket and + blackened his face; Grendel wore a white sheet over his back and blew the + horn; and Wulf had a mitre on and carried a great star with a lantern on a + stick. So they dragged along the street, singing at every door: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Three Kings with a star + Came travelling from afar, + Over mountains, hills and dale, + To go and look + In every nook, + To go and look for the Lord of All. +</pre> + <p> + Their rough voices droned and three great shadows walked far ahead of them + on the white street-snow. All those people came and went and twisted and + turned and came and went again. Each sang his own little song and fretted + his whining prayer. Above all this rose the dull toot of the baker’s horn, + as he kept on shouting: + </p> + <p> + “Hot bread! Hot bread!” + </p> + <p> + High hung the moon and blinked the stars; and fine white shafts fell + through the air, upon everything around, like silver pollen. + </p> + <p> + “Maarten of the mountain!” whispered the children behind the window. + “Maarten the Freezyman!”<a href="#linknote-5" name="linknoteref-5" + id="linknoteref-5"><small>5</small></a> + </p> + <p> + And they crept back into the kitchen, beside the fire. + </p> + <p> + And the black man stood outside the door, tugging at the string of his + twirling star, and sang through his nose: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Come, star, come, star, you must not so still stand! + You must go with me to Bethlehem Land, + To Bethlehem, that comely city, + Where Mary sits with her Babe on her knee.... +</pre> + <p> + Along the country-roads, the farmhouses stood snowed in, with black + window-shutters, which showed dark against the walls and shut in the + light, and stumpy chimneys, with thick smoke curling from them. Indoors, + there was no seeing clearly: the lamp hung from the ceiling in a ring of + steam and smoke and everything lay black and tumbled. In the hearth, the + yule-log lay blazing. The farmer’s wife baked waffles and threw them in + batches on the straw-covered floor. + </p> + <p> + In one corner, under the light and wound from head to foot in + tobacco-smoke, were the farm-hands, playing cards. They sat wrapped up in + their game, bending over their little table, very quiet. Now and then came + a half-oath and the thud of a fist on the table and then again peaceful + shuffling and stacking and playing of their cards. + </p> + <p> + The Freezyman sat in the midst of the children, who listened open-mouthed + to his tale of <i>The Mighty Hunter</i>. + </p> + <p> + His star stood in the corner. + </p> + <p> + Later, the big table was drawn out and supper served. All gathered round + and sat down and ate. First came potatoes and pork, red kale and pigs’ + chaps, then stewed apples and sausages ... and waffles, waffles, waffles. + They drank beer out of little glass mugs. The table was cleared, coffee + poured out, spirits fetched from the cupboard and gin burnt with sugar. + Then the chairs were pushed close, right round the hearth, and Maarten + stood up, took his star, smoothed his long beard and, keeping time by + tugging the string of his star, droned out: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + On Christmas night + Is Jesus born + To fight our fight + Against the night + Of Satan and his devil-spawn. + And a manger is His cot + And all humble is His lot; + <i>So, mortal, make you humble, too, + To serve Him Who thus served you</i>. + + Three wise men and each a king + Come to make Him offering; + Gold, frankincense and myrrh they bring. + Angels sweet + Kiss His feet, + As they sing: + “Hail, Lord and King!” + Telling all mankind the story + Of His wonder and His glory; + <i>So, mortal, make you humble, too, + To serve Him Who thus served you</i>. +</pre> + <p> + All else was still. The men sat drinking their hot gin, the children + listened with their heads on one side and the farmer’s wife, with her + hands folded over her great lap, sat crying. + </p> + <p> + The door opened and the Kings stood in the middle of the floor. They were + white with snow and their faces blue with cold; the ice hung from + Grendel’s moustache. They looked hard under their hats at the table, the + hearth and the little glasses and at Maarten, who was still standing up. + Wulf made his star turn, Top banged his rumble-pot to time and they sang: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Three Kings came out of the East; + ‘Twas to comfort Mary.... +</pre> + <p> + When the song was ended, each got two little glasses; then they could go. + </p> + <p> + Grendel cursed aloud. + </p> + <p> + “That damned hill-devil swallows it all up,” muttered Wulf. + </p> + <p> + And they went off through the snow. + </p> + <p> + The others sang and played and played cards for ever so long and ‘twas + late when Maarten took his star and, with a “Good-night till next year,” + pulled the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + It was still light outside, but the sky hung full of snow; above, a grey + fleece and, lower, a swirl of great white flakes, which fell down slowly + swarming one on top of the other. + </p> + <p> + He plunged deep into it.... It was still so far to go; and his house and + his pines, he had left them all so far behind. + </p> + <p> + He was so old, so lone; it was so cold; and all the roads were white ... + all sky and snow. In the hollow lay the village: a little group of + sleeping houses round the white church-steeple; and behind it lay his + mountain, but it was like a cloud, a shapeless monster, very far away. + </p> + <p> + Above his head, stars, stars in long rows. He stood still and looked up + and found one which he saw every evening, a pale, dead star, like an old + acquaintance, which would lead him—for the last time, perhaps—back + to his mountain, back home. + </p> + <p> + And he trudged on. + </p> + <p> + There was a light in the three narrow pointed windows of the chapel and + the bell tinkled within. He went to rest a bit against the wall. What a + noise and what a bustle all the evening ... and the gin! And those rough + chaps had looked at him so brutally. In there, it was still; those windows + gleamed so brightly; and, after the sound of the bell, there came so + softly a woman’s voice: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Venite adoremus</i>....” + </p> + <p> + Then all was silence, the lights went out. And he fared on. + </p> + <p> + The village lay behind him and the road began to climb. There, on the + right, stood “The Jolly Hangman.” Now he knows his way and ‘tis no longer + far from home. From out of the ditch comes something creeping, a black + shape that runs across the plain, chattering like a magpie: Mad Wanne, + with her thin legs and her cloak wide open. She ran as fast as she could + run and vanished behind the inn. + </p> + <p> + He had started; he became so frightened, so uneasy, that he hastened his + steps and longed to be at home. + </p> + <p> + There was still a light in “The Jolly Hangman” and a noise of drunken men. + He passed, but then turned back again ... to sing his last song, according + to old custom. They opened the door and asked him in. He saw Grendel + sitting there and tried to get away. Then the three of them rushed out and + called after him. When they saw that he went on, they broke into a run: + </p> + <p> + “Stop, you brute!... Here, you with your star!... Oh, you damned singer of + songs!” they howled and ran and caught him and threw him down. + </p> + <p> + Grendel dug his knee into his chest and held his arms stretched wide + against the ground. Wulf and Dras gripped whole handfuls of snow and + crammed it into his mouth and went on until all his face was thickly + covered and he lay powerless. Then they planted his star beside him in the + snow and began to turn and sing to the echo: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>A, a, a</i>—glory be to Him on high to-day! + <i>E, e, e</i>—upon earth peace there shall be! + <i>I, i, i</i>—come and see with your own eye! + <i>O, o, o</i>—His little bed of straw below! +</pre> + <p> + Like a flash, Mad Wanne shot past, yelling and shrieking. Wulf flung his + stick against her legs. She waved her arms under her cloak and vanished in + the dark. + </p> + <p> + The three men sat down by the ditch and laughed full-throated. Then they + started for the village. Long it rang: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Three Kings came out of the East; + ‘Twas to comfort Mary ... +</pre> + <p> + Great white flakes fell from the starry sky, wriggled and swarmed, one on + top of the other. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. LOAFING + </h2> + <p> + He went, ever on the move, with the slow, shuffling step of wandering + beggars who are nowhere at home. + </p> + <p> + They had discharged him, some time ago, and now he was walking alone like + a wild man. For whole days he had dragged himself through the moorland, + from farm to farm, looking for his bread like the dogs. Now he came to a + wide lane of lime-trees and before him lay the town, asleep. He went into + it. The streets lay dead, the doors were shut, the windows closed: all the + people were resting; and he loafed. It was dreary, to walk alone like + that, all over the country-side, and with such a body: a giant with huge + legs and arms, which were doomed to do nothing, and that belly, that + craving belly, which he carried about with him wherever he went. + </p> + <p> + And nobody wanted him: ‘twas as though they were afraid of his strong + limbs and his stubborn head—because his glowing eyes could not + entreat meekly enough—and his blackguardly togs.... + </p> + <p> + Morning came; the working-folk were early astir. Lean men and pale women, + carrying their kettles and food-satchels in their hands, beat the slippery + pavements with their wooden shoes. Doors and windows flew open; life + began; every one walked with a busy air, knew where he was going; and they + vanished here and there, through a big gate or behind a narrow door that + shut with a bang. Carts with green stuff, waggons with sand and coal drove + this way and that. Fellows with milk and bread went round; and it grew to + a din of calls and cries, each shouting his loudest. + </p> + <p> + And he loafed. Nobody looked at him, noticed him or wanted him. In the + middle of the forenoon, a young lady had stared at him for a long time and + said to her mother: + </p> + <p> + “What a huge fellow!” + </p> + <p> + He had heard her and it did him good. He looked round, but mother and + daughter were gone, behind a corner, and stood gazing into a shop full of + bows and ribbons. + </p> + <p> + It began to whirl terribly in his belly; and his stomach hurt him so; and + his legs were tired. + </p> + <p> + The streets and houses and all those strange people annoyed him. He wanted + to get away, far away, and to see men like himself: workers without work, + who were hungry! + </p> + <p> + He looked for the narrow alleys and the poor quarter. + </p> + <p> + Out of a side-street a draycart came jogging along. Half a score of + labourers lay tugging in the shoulder-strap or leant with all the force of + their bodies against the cart, which rolled on toilsomely. ‘Twas a load of + flax, packed tightly in great square bales standing one against the other, + the whole cart full. The dray caught its right wheel in the grating of an + open gutter and remained stock-still, leaning aslant, as though planted + there. The workmen racked and wrung to get the wheel out, but it was no + good. Then they stood there, staring at one another, at their wits’ end + and throwing glances into the eyes of that big fellow who had come to look + on. Without saying or speaking, he caught a spoke in either hand, pressed + with his mighty shoulder against the inside of the wheel, bent and wrung + and in a turn brought the cart on the level. Then he went behind among the + other workmen to go and help them shove. They looked at him queerly, as if + to say that they no longer needed his help and had rather done without + him. The cart rolled on, another street or two, and then through the open + gate of the warehouse. The labourers looked into one another’s eyes + uneasily, moved about, pulled the bales off the cart and dragged them a + little farther along the wall. Then they tailed off, one by one, through a + small inner door; and he stood there alone, like a fool. A bit later, he + heard them laugh and whisper under their breaths. When he was tired of + waiting, he went up the street again. + </p> + <p> + Nobody, nobody, nobody wanted him! + </p> + <p> + He ground his teeth and clenched his fists. In the street through which he + had to go, on the spaces outside the hotels sat ladies and gentlemen + toying with strange foods and sipping their wine out of long goblets. They + chattered gaily and tasted and pecked with dainty lips and turned-up + noses. The waiters ran here, there, like slaves. Those coaxing smells + stung like adders and roused evil thoughts in his brain. His stomach + fretted awfully and his empty head turned. + </p> + <p> + He hurried away. + </p> + <p> + In a street with windowless house-fronts, a street without people in it, + he felt better. He let his body lean against the iron post of a gas-lamp, + stuck his hands in his trouser-pockets and stood there looking at the + paving-stones. Now he was damned if he would take another step, he would + rather croak here like a beast; then they would have to take him up and + know that he existed. + </p> + <p> + The boys coming from school mocked him; they danced in a ring, with him, + the big fellow, in the middle. They hung paper flags on his back and sang: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hat, hat, + Ugly old hat! + It serves as a slop-pail and as a hat! +</pre> + <p> + He did not stir. + </p> + <p> + Yon came a milk-maid driving up in a cart drawn by dogs. He got a gnawing + in his arms, a spout of blood shot to his head and he suddenly felt as if + something was going to happen. Just as she drove past, he put his great + hand on the edge of the little cart, with one pull took a copper can from + its straw, put it to his mouth and drank; then he sent the can clattering + through the window of the first-best house, till the panes rattled again. + Looking round—as if bewildered and set going, roused by what he had + done—he caught sight of the frightened little dairy-maid. A mocking + grin played on his cruel face; he flung his rough arm round her little + body and lifted the girl out of the cart right up to his face in a fierce + hug. + </p> + <p> + The boys had fled shrieking. He felt two pairs of hands pulling at his + sleeves from below. He loosed the girl and saw two policemen who held him + fast and ordered him to go with them. They held him by the arm on either + side and stepped hurriedly to keep pace with his great strides. They + looked in dismay at that huge fellow, with his wicked eyes, and then at + each other, as if to ask what they should do. + </p> + <p> + They came to a narrow little street, with nobody in it, and stopped at a + public-house: + </p> + <p> + “Could you do with a dram, mate?” they asked him. + </p> + <p> + He looked bewildered, astounded. They all three went inside; and each of + them drank a big glass of gin. + </p> + <p> + The policemen whispered something together; the elder wiped the drink from + his moustache and then said, very severely: + </p> + <p> + “And now, clear out; hurry up! And mind your manners, will you, next + time!” + </p> + <p> + He was outside once more, loafing on, along the houses. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. SPRING + </h2> + <p> + Mother stood like a clucking hen among her red-cheeked youngsters. She was + holding a loaf against her fat stomach and, with a curved pruning-knife, + was cutting off good thick slices which the youngsters snatched away one + by one and stuffed into their pockets. Horieneke fetched her basket of + knitting and her school-books. She first pulled Fonske’s stocking up once + more, buttoned Sarelke’s breeches and wiped Lowietje’s nose; and, with an + admonishing “Straight to school, do you hear, boys?” from mother, the + whole band rushed out of the door, through the little flower-garden and up + the broad unmetalled road, straight towards the great golden sun which was + rising yonder, far behind the pollard alders, in a mighty fire of rays. It + was cool outside; the sky was bright blue streaked with glowing shafts + aslant the hazy-white clouds deep, deep in the heavens. Over the level + fields, ever so far, lay a stain of pale green and brown; and the slender + stalks of the wheat stood like needles, quivering in their glittering + moisture. The trees were still nearly bare; and their trunks and tops + stood tall and black against the clear sky; but, when you saw them + together, in rows or little clusters, there was a soft yellow-green colour + over them, spotted with gleaming buds ready to burst. A soft wind, just + warm enough to thaw the frost, worked its way into and through everything + and made it all shake and swarm till it was twisted full of restless, + growing life. That wind curled through the youngsters’ tangled hair and + coloured their round cheeks cherry-red. They ran and romped through the + dry sand, stamping till it flew above their heads. They were mad with + enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + Trientje stood in the doorway, in her little shirt, with her stomach + sticking out, watching her brothers as they disappeared; and, when she saw + them no longer, she thrust her fists into her sockets, opened her mouth + wide and started a-crying, until mother’s hands lifted her up by the arms + and mother’s thick lips gave her a hearty kiss. + </p> + <p> + Horieneke came walking step by step under the lime-trees, along the narrow + grass-path beside the sand, keeping her eyes fixed on the play of her + knitting-needles. When she reached the bridge that crossed the brook, she + looked round after her brothers. They had run down the slope and were now + trotting wildly one after the other through the rich brown grass, pulling + up all the white and yellow flowers, one by one, till their arms were + crammed with them. Horieneke took out her catechism, laid it open on the + low rail and sat there cheerfully waiting. Sarelke had crept through the + water-flags until he was close to the brook and, through the clear, + gleaming blue water, watched a little fish frisking about. In a moment, + his wooden shoes and his stockings were off and one leg was in the water, + trying it: it was cold; and he felt a shiver right down his back. Ripples + played on the smooth blue and widened out to the bank. The little fish was + gone, but so was the cold; and he saw more fish, farther away: quick now, + the other leg in the water! He pulled his breeches up high and there he + stood, with the water well above his knees, peering out for fish. The + water was clear as glass; and he saw swarms of them playing, darting + swiftly up and down, to and fro like arrows: they shot past in shoals that + held together like long snakes, in among the moss and the reeds and + between the stones, winding through slits and crannies. He shouted aloud + for joy. Bertje and Wartje and the others all had their stockings off and + stood in the water bending down to look, making funnels of their hands in + the water, where it rustled in little streams between two grass-sods + through which the fish had to pass. Whenever they felt one wriggling in + their hands they yelled and screamed and sprang out of the brook to put it + into their wooden shoes, which stood on the bank, scooped full of water. + There they loitered examining those beasties from close by: those fish + were theirs now; and they would let them swim about in the big tub at home + and give them a bit of their bread and butter every day, so that they + might grow into great big pike. And now back to the runnel for more. + </p> + <p> + “Boys, I’ll tell mother!” cried Horieneke. + </p> + <p> + But they did not hear and just kept on as before. Fonske had not been able + to catch one yet and his fat legs were turning blue with the cold. In + front of him stood Bertje, stooping and peering into the water, with his + hands ready to grasp; and Fonske saw such a lovely little runnel from his + neck to halfway down his back, all bare skin. He carefully scooped his + hands full of water and let it trickle gently inside Bertje’s shirt. The + boy growled; and Fonske, screaming with laughter, skipped out of the + brook. Now came a romping and stamping in the water, a dashing and + splashing with their hands till it turned to a rain of gleaming drops that + fell on their heads and wetted their clothes through and through. And a + bawling! And a plashing with their bare legs till the spray spouted high + over the bank. + </p> + <p> + “The constable!” cried Horieneke. + </p> + <p> + The sport was over. Like lightning they all sprang out of the brook, + caught up their wooden shoes with the little fish in them and ran as hard + as they could through the grass to the bridge. There only did they venture + to look round. Hurriedly they turned down their breeches, dried their + shiny cheeks and dripping hair with one another’s handkerchiefs and then + marched all together through the sun and wind to school. + </p> + <p> + In the village square they wandered about among the other boys, silently + showed their catch, hid their shoes in the hawthorn-hedge behind the + churchyard and stayed playing until schoolmaster’s bell rang. + </p> + <p> + Boys and girls, each on their own side, disappeared through the gate; and + the street was now silent as the grave. After a while, there came through + the open window of the school first a sort of buzzing and humming and then + a repetition in chorus, a rhythmical spelling aloud: b-u-t, but; t-e-r, + ter: butter; B-a, Ba; b-e-l, bel: Babel; ever on and more and more + noisily. In between it all, the sparrows chattered and chirped and + fluttered safely in the powdery sand of the playground. + </p> + <p> + The sun was now high in the sky and the light glittered on the young + leaves, full of the glad life of youth and gleaming with gold. + </p> + <p> + Horieneke, with a few more children, was in another school. They sat, the + boys on one side and the girls on the other, on long benches and were + wrapped up in studying their communion-book and listening to an old nun, + who explained it to them in drawling, snuffling tones. After that, they + had to say their lesson, one by one; and this all went so quietly, so + modestly, so easily, ‘twas as if they had the open book before them. + Half-way through the morning, they went two and two through the village to + the church, where the priest was waiting to hear their catechism. This + also went quietly; and the questions and answers sounded hollow in that + empty church. + </p> + <p> + Horieneke sat at the head of the girls; she had caught up almost half of + them because she always knew her lessons so well and listened so + attentively. She was allowed to lead the prayers and was the first + examined; then she sat looking at the priest and listening to what came + from his lips. He always gave her a kind smile and held her up to the + others as an example of good conduct. After the catechism, they had leave + to go and play in the convent-garden. In the afternoon, there were new + lessons to be learnt and new explanations; and then quietly home. + </p> + <p> + So they lived quite secluded, alone, in their own little world of modesty + and piety, preparing for the great day. The other youngsters, who went + their several ways, felt a certain awe for these school-fellows who once + used to romp and fight with them and who were now so good, so earnest, so + neat in their clothes and so polite. The “first-communicants:” the word + had something sacred about it which they respected; and the little ones + counted on their fingers how many years they would have to wait before + they too were learning their catechism and having leave to play in the + convent-garden. + </p> + <p> + To her brothers Horieneke had now become a sacred thing, like a guardian + angel who watched over them everywhere; and they dared do no mischief when + she was by. She no longer played with them after school; she was now their + “big sister,” to whom they softly whispered the favours which they wished + to get out of mother. + </p> + <p> + When Trientje saw her sister coming home in the distance, she put out her + little arms and then would not let her go. For mother, Horieneke had to + wash the dishes, darn the stockings and, when the baby cried, sit for + hours rocking it in the cradle or dandling it on her lap, like a little + young mother. + </p> + <p> + Holding Trientje by the hand and carrying the other on her arm, she would + walk along the paths of the garden and then put them both down on the + bench in the box arbour, while she tended the plants and shrubs that were + beginning to shoot. + </p> + <p> + In the evening, when the bell rang for benediction, she called all her + little brothers and they went off to church together. From every side came + wives in hooded cloaks and lads in wooden shoes that stamped on the great + floor till it echoed in the silent nave. + </p> + <p> + The choir was a semicircular, homely little chapel, with narrow pointed + windows, black at this hour, like deep holes, with leads outlining saints + in shapeless dark patches of colour. The altar was a mass of burning + candles; and a flickering gleam fell on the brass candlesticks, the little + gold leaves and the artificial flowers and on the corners of the silver + monstrance, which stood glittering high up in a little white satin house. + All of this was clouded in a blue smoke which rose from the holes of the + censer continuously swung to and fro by the arm of a roguish serving-boy. + Far at the back, in the dark, in the black stripes of shadow cast by the + pillars or under the cold bright patch of a lamp or a stand of votive + candles was an old wife, huddled under her hood, with bent back, praying, + and here and there a troop of boys who by turns dropped their wooden shoes + or fought with one another’s rosaries. + </p> + <p> + Near the communion-bench knelt Horieneke, her eyes wide open, full of + brightness and gladness and ecstacy, face to face with Our Lord. The + incense smelt so good and the whole little church was filled with the + trailing chords of the organ and with soft, plaintive Latin chant. Her + lips muttered automatically and the beads glided through her fingers: + numbered Hail Marys like so many roses that were to adorn her heart + against the coming of the great God. Her thoughts wafted her up to Heaven + in that wide temple full of glittering lights where, against the high + walls full of pedestals and niches, the saints, all stiff with gold and + jewels, stood smiling under their haloes and the nimble angels flew all + around on their white-plaster wings. She had something to ask of every one + of them and they received her prayer in turns. When the priest stood up in + his gleaming silver cope, climbed the three steps and took the Blessed + Sacrament in his white hands to give the benediction; when the bell + tinkled and the censer flew on high and the organ opened all its throats + and the glittering monstrance slowly made a cross in the air and above the + heads of the worshippers, she fell forward over her praying-stool and lay + like that, swooning in mute adoration, until all was silent again, the + candles out and she sitting alone there in the dark with a few black + shapes of cloaked women who wandered discreetly from one station of the + Cross to the next. Outside she heard her brothers playing in the + church-square. There she joined the little girls of her school; and, arm + in arm, they walked along past the dark houses and the silent trees, each + whispering her own tale: about her new dress, her veil, her white shoes, + her long taper with golden bows; about flowers and beads and prayers.... + </p> + <p> + After supper, Horieneke had to rock the baby to sleep, while mother moved + about, and then to say the evening prayers out loud, after which they all + of them went to bed. On reaching her little bedroom, she visited all the + prints and images hanging on the walls. She then undressed and listened + whether any one was still awake or up. Next she carefully crept down the + three stairs<a href="#linknote-6" name="linknoteref-6" id="linknoteref-6"><small>6</small></a> + in her little shift and clambered up the ladder to the loft, where all her + little brothers lay playing in a great box-bed. They knew that she would + come and had kept a place for her in the middle. She sank deep in the + straw and, when they all lay still, she went on with the tale which she + had broken off yesterday half-way. It was all made up of long, long + stories out of <i>The Golden Legend</i> and wonderful adventures of far + beyond the sea in unknown lands. She told it all so prettily, so + leisurely; and the children listened like eager little birds. High up in + the dusk of the rafters they saw all those things happening before their + eyes in the black depths and saw the mad fairy-dance there, until they + dreamed off for good and all and Horieneke was left the only one awake, + still telling her story. Then she crept carefully back to her room and + into bed, where she lay counting: how many more days, how many times + sleeping and getting up and how many more lessons to learn ... and then + the great day! The great day! Slowly she made all the days, with their + special happenings, appear before her eyes; and she enjoyed beforehand all + those beautiful things which had kept her so long a-longing. When, in her + thoughts, it came to Saturday evening and at last, slowly—like a box + with something wonderful inside which you daren’t open—to that + Sunday morning, then her heart began to flutter, a thrill ran through her + body and, so that she shouldn’t weep for gladness, she bit her lips, + squeezed her hands between her knees and rubbed them until the ecstasy was + passed and she again lay smiling in supreme content and shivering with + delight. + </p> + <p> + Time dragged on; cold weather came and rain and it seemed as if it never + would be summer. And that constant repetition of getting up and going to + bed and learning her lessons and counting the hours and the minutes became + so dreary and seemed to go round and round in an endless circle. + </p> + <p> + To-day at last was the long-awaited holiday when Horieneke might go into + town with mother to buy clothes. Her heart throbbed; and she walked beside + mother, with eyes wide-open, looking round at every window, up one street + and down another, crying aloud each time for joy when she saw pretty + things displayed. They bought white slippers with little bows, a splendid + wreath of white lilies of the valley, a great veil of woven lace, a + white-ivory prayer-book, a mother-of-pearl rosary with a little glass + peep-hole in the silver crucifix, showing all manner of pretty things. + Horieneke sighed with happiness. Mother haggled and bargained, said within + herself that it was “foolishness to waste all that money,” but bought and + went on buying; and, every time something new went into the big basket, it + was: + </p> + <p> + “Don’t tell father what it cost, Rieneke!” + </p> + <p> + All those pretty things were locked away in the bedroom at home and hung + up in the oak press, while father was still at work. + </p> + <p> + On another evening, when mother and Horieneke were alone at home, the + seamstress brought the new clothes: a whole load of white muslin in stiff + white folds full of satin bows and ribbons and white lace. They had to be + tried on; and Horieneke stood there, for the first time in her life, all + in white, like an angel. But the happiness lasted only for a spell: there + came a noise and every one in the room fled and the clothes were hastily + taken off and put away. + </p> + <p> + Every day, when the boys were at school and father in the fields, + neighbours came to look at the clothes. Piece after piece was carefully + taken out of the press and spread out for show on the great bed. The wives + felt and tested the material, examined the tucks and seams and the knots + and the lining, the bows and ribbons and clapped their hands together in + admiration. It became known all over the village that Horieneke would be + the finest of all in the church. + </p> + <p> + The counted days crept slowly by, the sun climbed higher every day and the + mornings and evenings lengthened. Things out of doors changed and grew as + you looked: the young green stood twinkling on every hand; the fields lay + like coloured carpets, sharply outlined; and the trees grew long, pale + branches with leaves which stood out like stately plumes against the sky, + so full of youth and freshness and free from dust as yet and tender. In + course of time, white buds came peeping, gleaming amid the delicate young + leaves, till all looked like a spotted altar-cloth: a promising splendour + of white blossoms. Here and there in the garden an early flower came + creeping out. Yonder, in the dark-blue wood, patches of brown and of pale + colour stood out clearly, with a whole variety of vivid hues. And it had + all come so unexpectedly, all of a sudden, as though, by some magic of the + night, it was all set forth to adorn and grace a great festival. + </p> + <p> + In the fields, the folk were hard at work. The land was turned up and torn + and broken by the gleaming plough and lay steaming in purple clods in the + sun’s life-giving rays. Everything swarmed with life and movement. The + houses were done up and coated with fresh whitewash, the shutters painted + green, till it all shouted from afar in a glad mosaic, with the blue of + the sky and the young leafage of the trees, under the brown, moss-grown + roofs. + </p> + <p> + And the days crept on, each counted and marked off: so many white stripes + on the rafters and black stripes on the almanack; they fell away one by + one and the Saturday came, the long-expected eve of the great Sunday. + Quite early, before sunrise, the linen hung outside, the white smocks and + shirts waving, like fluttering pennons, from the clothes-lines in the + white orchard. Horieneke also was up betimes and helping mother in her + work. From top to bottom everything had to be altered and done over again + and cleansed. It was only with difficulty that she got to school. The last + time! To-day, the great examination of conscience, the general confession + and the communion-practice; and, to-night, everything to be laid out ready + for to-morrow morning: all this kept running anyhow through her head and + among the lines of her lesson-book. + </p> + <p> + Half-way through the morning they went to church. The children there all + looked so glad, so happy and so clean and neat in their second-best + clothes and so nicely washed. They now made their confessions for the last + time; and it all went so pleasantly: they had done no wrong for such a + long while and all their sins had already been forgiven two or three times + over, yesterday and the day before. They sat in two long rows waiting + their turns and thinking over, right away back to their far-off babyhood, + whether nothing had been forgotten or omitted: their little hearts must be + quite stainless now and pure. When they were tired of examining their + consciences, they fell to praying, with their eyes fixed upon the saint + who stood before them on his pedestal, or else watched the other + youngsters going in and out by turns. + </p> + <p> + The little church looked its best, neat as a new pin: the floor was + freshly scrubbed and the chairs placed side by side in straight rows; the + brasswork shone like gold; and a new communion-cloth hung, like a + snow-white barrier, in front of the sanctuary. The velvet banners were + stripped of their linen covers; and the blue vases, with bright flowers + and silver bunches of grapes, were put out on the altar, as on feast-days. + And all of this was for to-morrow! And for them! + </p> + <p> + All the time it was deathly still, with not a sound but that of the + youngsters going in and out of the creaking confessional. Now and then the + church-door flapped open and banged to, when one of the children had + finished and went away. Their little souls were white as new-fallen snow + and bedight with indulgences and prayers. On their faces lay the fresh + innocence of babes brought to baptism or of laughing angels’ heads and in + their wide eyes everything was reflected festively and at its best; they + felt so light and lived on little but longing and a holy fear of their own + worthiness: that great, incredible thing of the morrow was suddenly going + to change them from children into grown-up people! + </p> + <p> + They just gave themselves time to have their dinners in a hurry; and then + back to school, where they were to learn how to receive communion. A few + benches placed next to one another represented the communion-rails; and + there they practised the whole afternoon: with studied piety, their hands + folded and their heads bowed, they learnt how to genuflect, how to rise, + how to approach in ranks and return at a sign from the old nun, who tapped + with a key on the arm of her chair each time that a new row of youngsters + had to start, kneel or go back. In a short time this went as exactly, as + evenly as could be, just like soldiers drilling. Finally, they had to + recite once more their acts of faith, adoration and thanksgiving; and + Horieneke and the first of the little boys had to write out on large + sheets of paper the preparation and thanks which they had learnt by heart, + to be read to-morrow in church. After that, they were drawn up in line and + silently and mysteriously led into the convent. + </p> + <p> + The children held their breath and walked carefully down long passages, + between high, white walls, past closed doors with inscriptions in Gothic + letters and a smell of clean linen and apples: ever on and on, through + more passages, till they reached a large hall full of chairs where Mother + Prioress—a fat and stately nun, with her great big head covered by + her cap and her hands in her sleeves—sat upon a throne. They had to + file past her, one by one, with a low bow, and then sit down. + </p> + <p> + Mother Prioress settled herself in her seat, coughed and, in a rich, + throaty voice, began by telling the youngsters how they were to address + Our Lord; told stories of children who had become saints; and she ended by + slowly and cautiously producing a little glass case in which a thorn out + of Our Lord’s crown lay exposed on a red-velvet cushion. And then they + were sent home. + </p> + <p> + On the way, Horieneke came upon her brothers playing in the sand. They had + scooped it up in their wooden shoes and poured it into a heap in the + middle of the road and then wetted it; and now they were boring all sorts + of holes in it and tunnels and passages and making it into a rats’-castle. + She let them be, gathered up her little skirts, so as not to dirty them, + and passed by on one side. + </p> + <p> + Mother was up to her elbows in the golden dough of the cakebread, stirring + and beating and patting the jumble of eggs and flour and milk. Horieneke + took the crying baby out of the cradle, shaking and tossing it in the air, + and went into the garden just outside the door. The golden afternoon sun + lay all around and everything was radiant with translucid green. The + little path lay neatly raked and the yellow daffodils stood, like brass + trumpets, closely ranked on their stalks; under the shrubs bright violets + peeped out with raised eyebrows, like the grinning faces of little old + wives. The whole garden was filled with a scent of fresh jasmine and a + cool fragrance of cherry-blossom and peach. + </p> + <p> + It was all so still and peaceful that Horieneke, who had begun to sing, + stopped in the middle and stood listening to the chaffinches and siskins + chattering pell-mell. + </p> + <p> + From there she went to her little bedroom, laid the child on her bed and + drew the curtains before the window which let in the sun in a thousand + slender beams of dusty light. The pictures and images gleamed on the wall + and the saints seemed to smile with happiness in that cool air, fragrant + of gillyflowers and white jasmine. She took out her new prayer-book, + flicked the silver clasp open and shut and played with the little shaft of + light which the gilt edge sent running all round the white walls. Then she + stood musing for a long time, gazing out through the little curtains at + those white trees in blossom, around and above which the golden pollen + danced, and at all that huge green field and the everlasting sun and all + the blue on the horizon. And, feeling tired, she laid her head on the bed + beside the baby and lingered there, dreaming of all the delight and beauty + of the morrow. + </p> + <p> + Mother called her and Horieneke came down. Mam’selle Julie was there, who + had promised to come and curl the child’s hair. Mam’selle put on a great + apron and began to undress Horieneke; then a great tub of rain-water was + carried in and the girl was scrubbed and washed with scented soap till the + whole tub was full of suds. Her head was washed as well and her hair + plaited into little braids, which were rolled up one by one and wound in + curl-papers and fastened to her head, under a net. Her cheeks and neck + shone like transparent china with the rosy blood coursing underneath. When + she was done, Mam’selle Julie went off to the other communicants. + </p> + <p> + The boys were lying on their backs, under the walnut-tree, talking, when + Horieneke came past. They looked at the funny twists on her head and went + on talking: Wartje longed most of all to put on his new breeches; Fonske + was glad that Uncle Petrus was coming to-morrow and Aunt Stanske and + Cousin Isidoor; Bertje because of the dog-cart<a href="#linknote-7" + name="linknoteref-7" id="linknoteref-7"><small>7</small></a> and the dogs + and the chance of a ride; Wartje because of all that aunt would bring with + her in her great wicker basket; and Dolfke longed for father to come home + from work, so that he might help to clean the rabbits. + </p> + <p> + The sun played with the gold in the leaves of the walnut-tree; and the + radiant tree-top was all aswarm and astir and little golden shafts were + shooting in all directions. The first butterfly of the year rocked like a + white flower through the air. + </p> + <p> + “I smell something!” said Dolfke. + </p> + <p> + They all sniffed and: + </p> + <p> + “Mates! They’re taking the cake-bread out of the oven!” + </p> + <p> + They rushed indoors one on top of the other. On the table lay four + golden-yellow brown-crusted loaves, as big as cart-wheels, steaming till + the whole house smelt of them. + </p> + <p> + “First let it cool! Then you can eat it,” said mother and gave each of + them a flat scone. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother.” + </p> + <p> + And they trotted round the kitchen holding their treasures high above + their heads and screaming with delight. + </p> + <p> + Behind the elder-hedge they heard father’s voice humming: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When the sorrel shows, + ‘Tis then the month of May, O!... +</pre> + <p> + They ran to him, took the tools out of his hands and: + </p> + <p> + “Father, the rabbits! The rabbits now, father?” + </p> + <p> + “Will it be fine weather to-morrow?” asked Horieneke. + </p> + <p> + “For sure, child: just see how clear the sun is setting.” + </p> + <p> + He pointed to the west; and the boys stood on tip-toe to see the sinking, + dull-glowing disk hang glittering in its gulf of orange cloud-reefs, + pierced through and through with bright rays that melted away high in the + pale blue and grey, while that disk hung there so calmly, as though frozen + into the sky for ever. + </p> + <p> + Father had one or two things to do and then the boys might come along to + the rabbits. + </p> + <p> + “The two white ones, eh, father?” + </p> + <p> + Father nodded yes; and Sarelke and Dolfke skipped along the boards to the + hutch and came back each carrying a long white rabbit by the ears. + </p> + <p> + Dolfke held his close to the ground, hidden behind a tree, so that it + shouldn’t see the other’s blood and foresee its own death. While father + was sharpening his knife, Fonske took a cord and tied the hind-legs of + Sarelke’s rabbit and hung it, head down, on a nail under the eaves. Father + struck it behind the ears so that it was dazed and, rolling its eyes, + remained hanging stock-still. Before it had time to scream, the knife was + in its neck and the throat was cut open. A little stream of dark blood + trickled to the ground and clotted; and some of it hung like an icicle + from the beard, which dripped incessantly with red drops. + </p> + <p> + Fonske carefully put his finger to the rabbit’s nose and licked off a drop + of blood. + </p> + <p> + “It’s going home,” said Sarelke. + </p> + <p> + “Is it dead, father?” sighed Wartje. + </p> + <p> + “Stone-dead, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + He ripped one buttock with his knife and pulled off the skin; then the + other, so that the blue flesh was laid bare and the little purple veins. + One more tug and the creature hung disfigured beyond all knowledge, in its + bare buttocks and its fat, bulging paunch, with its head all over blood + and its eyes sticking out. The belly and breast were cut open from end to + end and the guts removed; the gall-bladder was flung into the cess-pool; + two bits of stick, to keep the hind-legs and the skin of the stomach + apart, and the thing was done. The other was treated likewise; and the two + rabbits hung skinned and cleaned, stiffening high up on the gable-end. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile mother had got supper ready: a heap of steaming potatoes soaking + in melted butter and, after that, bread-and-butter and a pan of porridge. + Horieneke, by way of a treat, got a couple of eggs and a slice of the new + cakebread; and she sat enjoying this at the small table. After supper, the + boys had to be washed and cleaned. They started undressing here and + undressing there; serge breeches and jackets flew over the floor; and one + after the other they were taken in hand by mother, beside a kettle of + water, where they were rubbed and rinsed with foaming soap-suds. Then each + was given a clean shirt; and away to bed with them! They jumped and, with + their shirt-tails waving behind them, skipped about and smacked one + another until father came along and stopped their game. Mother had still + her floor to scrub; and Horieneke read out evening prayers while the boys + knelt beside their bed. + </p> + <p> + Now all grew still. Father smoked a pipe and took a stroll in the + moonlight through the orchard, where he had always something to look after + or to do. Indoors the broom went steadily over the floor; whole kettlefuls + of water were poured out and swept away and rubbed dry. Then the stove was + lit; and, while mother blacked the shoes, father made the coffee. They + mumbled a bit together—about to-morrow’s doings, about the children, + the work, the hard times and their troublesome landlord, the farmer of the + woodside—when there came a noise from the little bedroom and the + door creaked softly. Horieneke suddenly appeared in the middle of the + floor in her little nightgown; and, before father and mother had got over + their surprise, the child was on her knees, asking: + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, father and mother, for all the wrong that I have done you in + my life; and I promise you now to be always good and obedient....” + </p> + <p> + Mother was furious at first; and then, at the sight of the kneeling figure + and the sound of the tearful little voice, her anger fell and she felt + like crying. Father hated all that sentimental rubbish: + </p> + <p> + “Come, you baggage, quick to bed!... Forgive you? What for?... Nonsense, + nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + The child kept on weeping: + </p> + <p> + “Father, please, it’s my first communion to-morrow and we must first + receive forgiveness: Sister at school said so....” + </p> + <p> + “The sisters at school are mad! And they’ll make you mad too! To bed with + you now, d’you hear?” + </p> + <p> + Mother could stand it no longer; she sobbed aloud, took Horieneke under + the arms and lifted her to her breast. She felt a lump in her throat and + could hardly get out her words: + </p> + <p> + “It’s all forgiven, my darling. God bless you and keep you! And now go + quick to bed; you have to be up early to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Horieneke put her arm over mother’s shoulders and whispered softly in her + ear: + </p> + <p> + “I have something else to ask you, mother. All the children’s parents are + going to communion to-morrow: shall you too, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Make your heart easy, dear; it’ll be all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, will you call me in good time to-morrow morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + The house grew quiet as the grave; and soon a manifold snoring and + grunting sounded all through the bedroom and the loft. Outside it was + twilight and the blossoms shone pale white in the orchard. The crickets + chirped far and near.... + </p> + <p> + This was the last evening and morning: when it was once more so late and + dark, everything would be over and done! All those days, all that long + array of light and darkness, of learning and repeating lessons—a + good time nevertheless—was past and gone; and, now that the great + thing, always so remote, so inaccessible, was close at hand, she was + almost sorry that the longing and the aching were to cease and she almost + felt afraid. Should she dare to sleep to-night? No. ‘Twas so good to lie + awake thinking; and she had still so much praying to do: her heart was + still far from ready and prepared. + </p> + <p> + “O God, I am a poor little child and Thou art willing to come to me.... + Dear Virgin Mary, make my soul as pure as snow, so that it may become a + worthy dwelling-place for thy Divine Son.” + </p> + <p> + The white dress now lay spread out upon the best bed in the big bedroom + and her wreath too, with all the rest. She already saw herself clad in all + that white wealth like a little queen, standing laughing through her + golden curls! She felt the little knots of paper on her head; to-morrow + they would be released and would open into a cloud of ringlets; and the + people, who would all look at her; and aunt.... Now just to recite her + words once more for to-morrow in church.... And that pretty picture which + the priest would give her.... Was she sure that nothing was forgotten? + Just let her think again: and her candle-cloth? Yes, that was there + too.... What could the time be? The clock was ticking like a heavy chap’s + footstep downstairs in the kitchen. It was deathly quiet everywhere. Now + she would lie and wait until the clock struck, so that she might know how + long it would be before it grew light. Her eyes were so tired and all + sorts of things were walking higgledy-piggledy up the white wall.... + </p> + <p> + Then, in the solemn stillness, the nightingale began to sing. Three clear + notes rang out from the echoing coppice; it was like the voice of the + organ in a great church. It sounded over the fields, to die away in a low, + hushed fluting. Now, louder and staccato, like a spiral stair of metallic + sound, the notes rang out, high and low alternately, in quickening time, a + running, rustling and rioting, with long-drawn pipings, wonderfully sweet, + that rose in a storm of bell-like tinklings, limpid as water, with a + strength, a violence, a precision exceeding the music of a hundred + thousand tipsy carrillons pealing through the silent night. And now again + the notes were softly weaving their fabric of sound: bewitchingly quiet, + intimately sweet, musingly careful, like the music of tiny glass bells; + and once more they were louder and again they fainted away, borne on the + still wind like the murmur of angels praying. + </p> + <p> + The blue velvety canopy was stretched on high, studded with twinkling + stars; and all about the country-side the trees stood white. On the + winding paths, among the pinks, anemones, guelder-roses and + jasmine-bushes, walked stately white figures in trailing garments, with + wreaths of white roses and yellow flowers gleaming on their golden + tresses, which they shook out over their white shoulders. All the world + was one pure vista full of blue, curling mist and fresh, untasted + fragrance. A soft melody of dreamy song was wafted through the air. And + Horieneke saw herself also playing in that great garden, an angel among + angels. Ropes hung stretched from tree to tree; and they swung upon them + and rocked with streaming hair and fluttering garments, floating high + above the tree-tops, light as the wind, in a shower of white blossoms. + They sang all together, with those who lay on the beds of white lilies and + violets: a song of unheard sweetness. Not one spoke of leaving off or + going home; they only wished to stay like that, without rain or darkness; + there was a continual happy frolic, a glad gaiety, in those spacious halls + where, in spite of the singing and the music, all things were yet so + deliciously, languidly still, still as the moonlight. + </p> + <p> + Yonder, by the dark wood, the steady swish of a sickle was heard; and this + made a fearsome noise in the tenuous night. A gigantic man stood there; + his head looked over the trees and his wide-stretched arms swung the + sickle and a pick-hook; and, stroke by stroke, the foliage and the flowers + fell beneath his hands as he passed. The singing gradually ceased, the + swings fell slack and the frolic changed into an anxious waiting, as + before thunder. One and all stood in terror and dismay staring at that + giant approaching. The blue of the sky darkened and the angels vanished, + like lamps that were blown out. The flowers were faded and the whole plain + lay mown flat, like a stricken wilderness; and that fellow with his + sickle, who now drew himself up to contemplate his finished work, was ... + her father! + </p> + <p> + She started awake and trembled with fright. It had been so beautiful that + she sighed at the thought of it; and outside was the twilight of advancing + dawn. It was daylight! Sunday! She jumped out of bed in a flash and pulled + open the window. The trees were there still and the flowers too and all + the white of last night, but so pale, dim and colourless beside the + glittering brightness of a moment ago ... and never an angel! She gave a + sigh. The sky was hung with a thick grey shroud; and in the east a long + thin cleft had been torn in the grey; and behind that, deep down, was a + dull-golden glow, gleaming like a great brazen serpent. A keen wind shook + the cherry-blossom and blew a cold, fragrant air into the window. All the + green distance lay dead as yet, half-hidden, asleep in the morning mist; + and neither man nor beast was visible, nor even a wreath of smoke from a + chimney. + </p> + <p> + What was the time? She threw a wrap over her shoulders, which were getting + chilled, and went carefully down the bedroom steps. It was still dark in + the kitchen. She groped, found and lit a sulphur match and lifted the + flame to the clock. Four! She was so much used to seeing the hands in that + position in the afternoon and they now looked so silly that she stood for + a long time thinking, foolishly, what she ought to do: call mother or + creep back into bed and sleep. She felt so uncomfortably cold and it was + still so dark: she went up again and stood looking out. + </p> + <p> + The birds twittered in the trees and the wide cleft in the east yawned + wider and wider. Was it going to be a fine day after all? Everything for + which she had waited so long was there now and so strange, so totally + different from what she had imagined: instead of that leaping gladness + there was something like fear and nervous trembling; she could have wept; + and, merely for the sake of doing something, she went down on her knees + beside the bed and said the prayers which she had learnt by heart: + </p> + <p> + “Lord God, I give Thee my heart. Deign to make Thyself a worthy dwelling + in it and to abide there all the days of my life....” + </p> + <p> + The clock struck; it was half-past four and no one yet astir. + </p> + <p> + Now she went downstairs again. In the room lay her white dress, her + wreath, her prayer-book: it was all ready; if only somebody would wake! + Dared she call? They lay sleeping side by side: father was snoring, with + his mouth open, and mother’s fat stomach and breasts rose and fell + steadily. + </p> + <p> + “Mother!” + </p> + <p> + Nobody heard. + </p> + <p> + “Mother!!” + </p> + <p> + And then she pulled at the coverlet and cried repeatedly, a little louder + each time: + </p> + <p> + “Mother! Mother!! Mother!!!” + </p> + <p> + That was better. Mother turned on her side, lifted her head and rubbed her + eyes with her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Mother, it’s nearly five; we shall be late!” + </p> + <p> + Mother, drunk with sleep, kept on looking at the window and yawning: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, child, I’ll come at once.” + </p> + <p> + She got up and came out in her short blue petticoat stretched round her + fat hips, with an open slit behind, and her loose jacket and wooden shoes + on. She lit the stove. Horieneke read her morning prayers. Mother’s heavy + shoes clattered over the floor outside and in again; she put on and took + off the iron pots with the goats’ food, drew fresh water and made the + coffee. + </p> + <p> + Mam’selle Julie was coming along the rough road. + </p> + <p> + “You’re in good time!” cried mother from the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Frazie. Up already, Horieneke? It’ll be a fine day to-day.” + </p> + <p> + She took off her hooded cloak, put on a clean apron and turned up her + sleeves. Horieneke was washed all over again while mother poured out the + coffee. Then they sat down. Horieneke kept her lips tight-closed so as not + to forget that she must remain fasting. She slowly pulled on her new + stockings and stretched out her hand to the bench on which the white + slippers lay. She took off her sleeping-jacket and her little skirt and + stood waiting in her shift. When the tongs were well warmed, Mam’selle + Julie seized the little paper twists in the hot iron and opened them out. + From each fold a curled tress came rolling down; and at last, combed out + and bound up with blue-silk ribbon, it all stood about her head in a light + mist of pale-gold silk, like a wreath of light around her bright, fresh + face. Her dirty shift was dragged off downwards and mother fetched the new + scapular and laid it over the child’s bare shoulders. The first-communion + chemise was of fine white linen and trimmed with crochet lace. Julie took + out the folds and drew it over Horieneke’s head. Then came white + petticoats, bodices and skirts. The child stood passively, in the middle + of the floor, with her arms wide apart to give free room to Julie, who + crept round on her knees, sticking in a pin here, smoothing a crease + there. Mother fetched the things as they were wanted. There was a constant + discussing, approving, asking if it wouldn’t meet or if it hung too wide, + all in a whisper, so as not to wake the boys. + </p> + <p> + There came a scrabbling overhead and down the stairs; and, before any one + suspected it, Bertje stood dancing round Horieneke in his shirt. + </p> + <p> + “Jesu-Maria! Oo, you rascal!” + </p> + <p> + And the corset which mother held in her hand was sent flying up the stairs + after the boy, who in three jumps was gone and up above. The others lay + laughing in bed when Bertje told them that he had seen Horieneke all in + white, with a bunch of red-gold curls round her head, and that mother had + thrown something at him. + </p> + <p> + The corset was laced up and Mam’selle Julie told the child to hold her + breath to let them get her body tighter. Now for the white frock: the + skirt was slipped down over her head until it stood out in light, stiff + pleats; the white bodice encased her body firmly and stuck out above the + shoulders, its puffed sleeves trimmed with little white-satin bows and + ribbons at every seam and fold. Over it hung the veil, which shrouded her + as in a white cloud. The wreath was put on, looked at from a distance and + put on again until it was right at last, with the glittering beads in + front, shining among the auburn curls, and the long streamer of threaded + lilies of the valley behind, nestling in the tresses on her back. The + white gloves, her prayer-book and candle-cloth, a few pennies in her bead + purse; and ‘twas done. + </p> + <p> + The child was constantly twisted and turned and examined from every side. + She did not know herself in all her splendour: the Horieneke of yesterday, + in her blue bird’s-eye bib and black frock was a poor thing compared with + the present Horieneke, something far removed from this white apparition, + something quite forgotten. She stood stiff as a post in the middle of the + kitchen, without daring to look round or stir; she felt so light and airy + in those rustling folds and pleats and all that muslin that she seemed not + to touch the ground. She did not know what to do with her arms, how to + tread with her feet; and her thoughts were straying: the part she had to + play was all gone out of her head; she would be as fine as this all day + long, but oh, so uncomfortable! + </p> + <p> + Mother put on stockings and shoes, donned her cap, turned her apron, threw + her cloak over her shoulders; she called her husband; then: + </p> + <p> + “There, boys, we’re off; don’t forget your drop of holy water, all of + you!” + </p> + <p> + The door fell back into the latch with a bang; and the three of them were + on the road. A gust of wind laden with white blossoms out of the orchard + greeted them. Horieneke held the tips of her veil closed against the wind + and stepped out like a little maid in a procession. The two women came + behind and had no eyes for anything but Horieneke: the fall of those white + folds, the whirling of the veil and the dancing of the lilies of the + valley in the auburn locks. They said nothing. + </p> + <p> + The sky still hung grey with its yawning cleft widening in the east; and + out of it there beamed a sober, uncertain light, which fell upon + everything with a dead gleam: it was like noonday in winter. Over the + fields and in the trees drifted thin wisps of mist, like floating blue + veils blown on by the wind. Below in the meadow the cock had started + crowing amid his flock of peacefully pecking pullets. It was very fresh, + rather cold indeed, out on the high road. + </p> + <p> + All the little paths led to the church; and in every direction, along the + flat fields, came people in their very best, with little white maids. The + wind played in their white veils and set them waving and flapping like wet + flags. + </p> + <p> + “The children’ll have good weather,” said Mam’selle Julie; and, a little + later, to Horieneke, “What are you going to ask of Our Lord now, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, so much, so much, Mam’selle Julie! I myself hardly know.... For + father and mother and all the family and that I may always be a good girl + and stay at home with them and not fall among wicked people and that we + may all live a long time and go to Heaven....” + </p> + <p> + “And that the harvest may succeed and we be able to pay the rent ... and + for the farmer ... and that father may keep in health and be fit to work,” + mother ordered. + </p> + <p> + They reached the village. Mother remained waiting among the folk in the + street; Horieneke, with the other youngsters, went through the + school-gates where their wax tapers stood burning above the bunches of + gold flowers and leaves shining in the warm light. The children looked at + one another’s clothes, whispered in one another’s ears what theirs had + cost and wrangled as to which looked the prettiest. The boys vied with one + another in showing their bright pennies and their steel watch-chains. + </p> + <p> + The procession filed out: first the acolytes, in scarlet, with gleaming + crucifix, brass candle-sticks and censer, followed by boys and girls + symbolically dressed, a lilting dance of flags and banners in brilliant + colours. Next came the priest, in a gorgeous vestment stiff with silk and + silver thread and gold tracery; and, in two rows, on either side of the + street, preceded by four little angels with gold wings, the + first-communicants, really such on this occasion, in their proper clothes, + with the great wax tapers in their white-gloved hands and a glow in their + faces and laughter in their eyes. All the people crowded after them, + through the street to the church. The bells rang out, the priest sang with + the sacristan and the whole procession triumphantly entered the wide + church-doors. There was a mighty stamping and pushing to get near and to + see the children sitting in straight rows on the front benches of the + nave. The girls settled in their clothes and the boys looked down at their + stiff, wide cloth breeches and their new shoes, or shoved their fingers up + their noses or into their tight collar-bands. The organ droned out a + mighty prelude; the priest, all in gold, stood at the altar; the ceremony + began; the people were silent and prayed over their prayer-books. + </p> + <p> + The sun appeared! And green and red and yellow shafts of light slanted + through the stained-glass panes and mingled with the blue incense-wreaths. + They made the corners of the brasswork shine and brought smiles to the + faces of the saints in their niches. A splash of gold fell on the curly + heads of the children, dark and fair; and tiny rays flashed upon the gilt + edges of their prayer-books. The congregation prayed diligently and the + full voices sang the joyful <i>Gloria in excelsis</i> with the organ. + </p> + <p> + After the Gospel, the priest hung up his chasuble on the stand and mounted + the pulpit. After a noisy shifting of chairs and dragging of feet and + coughing, the people sat still, with their faces turned to the priest. He + began by reading out the notices in a snuffling tone: the intentions of + the masses for the ensuing week; the names of those about to be married or + lately deceased. Then he waited, cast his eyes over that level multitude + of raised heads, pulled up his white sleeves and turned his face towards + the children. His drawling voice wished them <i>proficiat</i>. + </p> + <p> + It was the first time in their lives that the youngsters saw that face + turned expressly towards them from a pulpit and also the first time that + they listened to the sermon with attention. They kept their eyes fixed on + the priest so as not to lose a word. The great day had arrived; a few + moments more and they would be completing the solemn task, they, small + children, the task that was denied to the pure angels in heaven. + </p> + <p> + “And that work must be the foundation on which all your future life is + based. Your souls are now so clean, so pure, they are shining like clear + water and are quite spotless. For years we have taught and instructed and + prepared you in order to teach your virgin hearts, this day, now, in this + beautiful chapel, to receive that strengthening food, that miracle of + God’s love. Remember it always: this is the happiest day of your lives! + You are still innocent and about to receive the Bread that raises the + dead, cleanses sinners and purifies the fallen. You are still in your + first youth, without experience of life, and are already allowed to + approach the Holy Table and share the strengthening food that supports men + and women in the trials of life. This also is the propitious moment, the + mighty hour in which Our Lord can refuse you nothing that you ask Him. So + make use of it, ask Him much, ask Him everything: for your parents and + your masters, who have done so much for you, for your pastors, your + village and especially for yourselves, that He may keep you from sin and + continue to dwell in your hearts and allow you to grow up into stout + champions of the faith and of your religion. It is the happiest day of + your lives. You are here now, to-day, with your bright, clear eyes, young + and beautiful as angels; we have watched over you, sheltered you against + all that could have harmed or offended your innocence, far from the + corrupt world of whose existence you have not even known. But to-morrow + you will enter the wide world, with only your weak flesh to fight against + life’s dangers: depravity, falsehood, lies and sin. Now life will begin + for you, now for the first time will you be called upon to fight, to show + courage and to stand firm. How many of those who once sat where you are + now sitting and who were pure and innocent as yourselves have now, alas, + become lost sinners, Judases who have rejected their God, devils as + roaring lions going about seeking whom they may devour! Be strong, listen + to your good parents: it is to them alone that you will have to listen + henceforth....” + </p> + <p> + He turned round to the other side and, continuing with the same rise and + fall in his voice, the same gestures of his thin right arm, with the + flowing white sleeve, and the same movement of his sharp profile high up + above the congregation, he began once more: + </p> + <p> + “To you, fathers and mothers, I also wish a cordial <i>proficiat</i>; for + you also this is a glad and memorable day. How long is it not since you + were kneeling there! And yet that day always lingers in your memory. Since + that time you have been plunged into the world, have had to struggle and + have perhaps fallen and more than once have known your courage fail you. + Now your children are sitting there! For years you have left them to our + care and to-day we give them back to you, instructed, enriched and + supplied with all that they can need to pass onward. You receive them this + day from our hands pure and innocent as on the day of their baptism. It is + for you henceforth to preserve and to maintain that virtue and purity in + them; it is for you to bring up these children so that later they may be + exemplary Christians. See to it that your own conduct edifies them: it is + according to you and all your actions that they will order their lives and + take example. Admonish them in good season and chastise them when + necessary: ‘He that spareth the rod hateth his son,’ says the Holy Ghost. + And keep your eyes open, for God will ask an account of your stewardship + and will reward or punish you according as you have brought them up well + or ill. A good son, a virtuous daughter are the joy and the comfort of + their parents.” + </p> + <p> + The congregation were greatly impressed. The mothers wept: the priest was + such a good, worthy old man, whom they had known all their lives; and they + liked hearing him say all those beautiful things: that reference to their + own childhood and to their youngsters, whom they now saw sitting there so + good and saintlike, waiting to receive Our Lord, brought the tears to + their eyes; and it did them good to feel their hearts throb, to feel that + lump in their throats; and they let the tears flow: after all, it was from + gladness. + </p> + <p> + The organ played softly and the changing tones mingled with the blue + wreaths that ascended from the sanctuary in a fragrant cloud, lingering + over the congregation. The celebrant offered the bread and wine to Our + Father in Heaven. And all this took time; the children were tired by their + tense concentration; their prayers had all been said two and three times + over; and they were now vacantly waiting and longing, looking at their + clothes, at the stained-glass windows in the choir or St. Anne in her + crimson cloak, or counting the stars that were painted high up on the + stone ceiling. + </p> + <p> + The altar-bell tinkled twice and thrice in succession; the <i>Sanctus</i> + was sung; and after that the organ was silenced. A hush fell over the + congregation and all heads dropped, as though mown down, in deep + reverence: not one dared look up. The priest genuflected, the bell sounded + repeatedly and, amid that great hush, thrice three notes of the great + church-bell droned through the church and rang out over the distant + fields. Outside, it was all blue and sunshine and silence; everything was + bowed in anxious expectation; it was as though there were nothing erect + and alive in the world except that little church and that bell. In the + farthest houses in the village the mothers were now kneeling and beating + their breasts, with their thoughts on Our Lord. The God of Heaven and + Earth had descended and was filling all things with His awful presence. + Carefully, slowly, almost timidly came the <i>Adoro te</i>; and the people + little by little raised their heads and sighed, as though relieved and + still quite awed by what had happened or was going to happen. + </p> + <p> + And now the ceremony began. After the <i>Agnus Dei</i> and the three + tinkles of the bell at the <i>Domine, non sum dignus</i>, the four little + angels came with hands folded and heads bowed, with their gold-paper wings + carefully furled behind them, and walked reverently to the front of the + church. Horieneke stood up, took her great sheet of paper and, in her + clear voice, read out her piece so that all the congregation could hear, + though she stopped to find her words at times and faltered here and there + because her heart was beating so violently and she had such a catch in her + throat: + </p> + <p> + “Then Thou wilt come to us, Almighty God! To us poor little sheep who, + hardly knowing what we did, have so often offended Thee. We are not worthy + to receive Thee, unless Thou say but the word that our souls may be + healed. And, as Thou hast ordained, we will, in fear and confidence, + approach Thee as poor little children approaching their kind Father. We + have nothing wherewith to repay the great love which Thou bearest us; we + are needy in all things; and all things must come from Thee. We are still + very young and have already gone astray, but we repent and are heartily + sorry to have caused Thee any grief. And, now that Thou art so unspeakably + good to us, we wish to be wholly loyal to Thee and to belong to Thee with + heart and soul; dispose of us henceforth as Thy servants and we shall be + filled with joy. Come then, O Jesus; our hearts pant with longing, our + souls are now prepared; we have begged Mary, our dear Mother, our guardian + angels and our blessed patron saints to make us worthy habitations for Thy + majesty.” + </p> + <p> + The silence was so great that one could hear a leaf fall. The congregation + wriggled where they knelt to see and held their breaths, full of + expectation. The nun struck her key on the back of her chair. Two little + angels went, step by step, to the communion-bench and the first row of + boys and girls followed. The little ones now looked very serious. They + held their heads bowed and their hands clasped; and their faces shone with + heavenly light and silent inner happiness. Horieneke was now like a white + flower; her transparent little waxen face, her delicately chiselled nose + and closed pink lips looked so angelic under her sunny curls and the white + of her veil. The children approached the choir silently and slowly: ‘twas + as though they were floating. At the second tap of the key, they knelt; + one more ... and their hands were under the lace communion-cloth. From the + organ-loft the <i>Magnificat</i> resounded. The priest took the ciborium, + gave the benediction and with stately tread descended the altar-steps. In + his slender fingers he held the Sacred Host, that small white disk which + stood out sharply above the silver vessel against the rich violet of his + chasuble. The children’s heads by turn dropped backwards and fell upon + their breasts, in ecstacy. The bells rang out; the choristers shouted + their hymn of praise; the priest murmured: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christ ...</i>” + </p> + <p> + The key tapped; and the angels kept leading new rows to the Holy Table and + bringing the others away again. And the great work went on in solemn + silence amid all that jubilant music. The congregation were lifted up, + their hearts throbbed and their tears welled with happiness and + contentment. + </p> + <p> + The last row had come back; and they were all now kneeling in adoration + when the head boy read out: + </p> + <p> + “What shall we return Thee, O Lord, for what Thou hast done for us! But + now we were mute, prostrate in adoration, amazed and awed by Thy mighty + presence in our hearts, bowed down in the dust of our humility; now at + last we dare raise our heads and thank Thee. We beseech Thee that Thou + wilt continue to dwell in our hearts, to reign there and to pour forth Thy + mercies there abundantly. We are frail creatures; and, were it not that + Thou, in Thy compassion, dost uphold us, we should continually and at + every moment fall and succumb in the rude gusts of life. We put our trust + in Thee and we know that Thou wilt succour us and that we shall enter the + life everlasting. Amen.” + </p> + <p> + It was over; and the congregation looked round impatiently to see how they + could get out of church quickest. Their tears were dried and their + thoughts were once more fixed on clothes, home, coffee and cakebread. + After the last sign of the cross, the men crowded outside; the mothers + sought their youngsters, kept them out of the crush for fear of accidents + and marched triumphantly through the two rows of sightseers that stood on + either side of the church-door. Now was the moment for showing-off, for + congratulation and admiration on every side, till the children did not + know which way to turn or what to say; and they were very hungry. All now + went with their friends to the tavern for a drop of Hollands; and from + there mother went home with two or three wives of the neighbourhood. + </p> + <p> + Horieneke walked behind. She was all by herself and wrapped in + contemplation: that great miracle was now over, all of a sudden, and she + could hardly believe it. Instead of enjoying all the happiness for which + she had waited so long, her heart was full of distress and she felt + inclined to cry. She had been so uneasy in church, so shy and frightened: + there was the reading of that paper before all those people; and directly + after, amid all the confusion, Our Lord had come. Hastily and very + distractedly she had said her prayers, had spoken, asked and prayed and + then waited for the miracle, waiting for Our Lord, Who now, living in her, + would speak. And nothing had happened, nothing: she had done her very best + to listen amidst the bustle outside and around her ... and yet nothing, + nothing! Meanwhile she had raised her head to breathe ... and the people + were leaving and she had to go with them: it was finished! It had all been + so matter-of-fact, just like the communion-practice of yesterday, when she + had merely swallowed a morsel of bread. Her heart beat in perplexity and + she feared that she had made an unworthy communion. + </p> + <p> + The wind blew under her veil, which flew up in the air behind her. She was + so pure, so unspotted in all that white; and, cudgel her brains as she + would, she could not remember any fault or sin which she had omitted to + confess. Though Our Lord had not spoken to her, He had been there all the + same and she had not heard Him because of all that was happening around + her. She ought to have been alone there, in a silent church. Even here, + outside, by the trees, would have been better. + </p> + <p> + The wives were asked in to coffee and they stood and waited for Horieneke + at the garden-gate. Indoors everything was anyhow: Fonske was going about + in his shirt, Bertje had one leg in his breeches and Dolfke sat on the + floor, playing with Trientje. Father had made coffee and stood with the + bottles and glasses ready, looking dumbfounded at his child, now that he + saw her for the first time in her white clothes. The boys crowded round + shyly; they no longer knew their sister in this great lady; they kept hold + of one another shyly, with their fingers in their mouths; they were unable + to speak a word. Mother threw off her cloak and began cutting + currant-bread and butter. Horieneke was made to take off her veil and + gloves and a towel was fastened under her chin. The wives and youngsters + sat down. First a drop to each; all drank to the health of the little + first-communicant; they touched glasses. Father poured out and Horieneke + had to drink too: she put the stuff to her lips, pulled a wry face and + pushed the glass away. The boys dipped and soaked the bread in their + coffee; and the wives started talking about their young days and about + clothes and the old ways and the fine weather and the fruit-crop. Mother + did nothing but cut fresh slices of bread-and-butter, which were snatched + away and gobbled up on every side. + </p> + <p> + “Eat away!” said father. + </p> + <p> + The hostess of “The Four Winds” had been unable to take her eyes off + Horieneke all through mass. + </p> + <p> + “Damned pretty, like a little angel!” said Stiene Sagaer. + </p> + <p> + “And a curly head of hair like a ball of gold! It made one’s mouth water! + And that wreath!” squealed the farmer’s wife from the Rent Farm. + </p> + <p> + “Mam’selle Julie had a hand in it.” + </p> + <p> + “And such pretty manners! Well, dear, Our Lord will be mighty pleased with + you.” + </p> + <p> + “And how nicely she read that piece!” said Stiene. “My blood crept when I + heard it. Look here, Wanne Vandoorn was sitting beside me; and, you can + take my word, the good soul couldn’t control herself and we both cried + till we sobbed.” + </p> + <p> + “I felt it too,” said mother. “Such things are cruel hearing. And the + priest....” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, he knows how to talk, that holy man! He’s a pure soul.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll regret it all your days, Ivo, that you weren’t there to see it.” + </p> + <p> + Father nodded and took another slice of bread-and-butter. + </p> + <p> + “It’ll take me all the week to tell about it at home,” said the farmer’s + wife. + </p> + <p> + The boys sat making fun among themselves of Stiene Sagaer’s crooked nose + and the squeaky voice of the farmer’s wife. When the wives had done + eating, they stood up and went. + </p> + <p> + When they had gone some little way, they turned round again and cried + against the wind: + </p> + <p> + “It’s going to be fine to-day, Ivo!” + </p> + <p> + “And warm!” piped the farmer’s wife. “Beautiful weather!” + </p> + <p> + They went down the sand-path, each wending her own way home. + </p> + <p> + The boys were now dressed and father, stripped to the waist, went out to + wash his face under the trees at the pump. His freshly-ironed white shirt + was brought out and his shiny boots and his blue smock-frock and + black-silk cap. After much fuss and turning and seeking, he got ready and + the boys too. Mother was busy with the baby in the cradle; Horieneke was + showing her new holy pictures to Trientje; and Bertje and the other boys + had gone out to play in the road. The bells rang again, this time for high + mass. Many small things had still to be rummaged out, clothes to be pinned + and buttoned; and the boys, with their Sunday penny in their pocket, + marched up the wide road to high mass. + </p> + <p> + The wind had dropped and the sun blazed in the clear blue of the sky, + which hung full of unravelled white cloud-threads, showing gold at the + edges. A gay light lay over all the young green; the huge fields were full + of waving corn, which swayed and bowed and straightened again, shining in + streaks as under clear, transparent water. The trees stood turned to the + sun, as though painted, so bright that from a distance one saw all the + leaves, finely drawn, gleaming against the shadows that lay below. Here + they stood in close hedges on either side of the road, trunk after trunk, + making a dark wall with a dense roof of leafage, which presently opened + out in a rift at the turn of the road, where four tree-trunks stood out + against the sky; and then the trees turned away to the left and were drawn + up in two new rows, which stretched out beside the road right across the + plain. Here and there a few other trees stood lonely in the fields, + gathered in small clumps, with the light playing between them; and far + away at the edge of the bright expanse, in a wealth of mingled green, amid + the tufted foliage with its changing hues and shadows, the little pointed + church showed above the uneven, red-tiled roofs. It was all like a restful + dream, made up of Sunday peace. Above and around, all the air was sounding + with the gay tripping music of the three bells as they rang together: a + laughing song in the glad sunshine, summoning from afar the people who + came from every side, clad in their best. The boys, in their new + red-brown, fustian breeches, standing stiff with the tailor’s crease in + them, and their thick, wide jackets and shiny hats, held father’s hand or + skipped round Horieneke, whom they could not admire enough. In the village + square they hid themselves and went to the booth to see how they could + best spend their pennies. + </p> + <p> + The people stayed in the street, looking about, and did not go into the + church until the little bell tolled out its tinkling summons and the last + little maid had been looked at and had disappeared. Then the men knocked + out their pipes against the tips of their shoes and sauntered in through + the wide church-door. + </p> + <p> + The incense still hung about the aisles and the sun sifted its golden dust + through the stained-glass windows right across the church. The + congregation stood crowded and crammed together behind their chairs, + looking at the gilt of the flowers and at the great mountain of votive + candles that were burning before the altar. The organ had all its pipes + wide open; and music streamed forth in great gusts that resounded in the + street outside. The priest sang and rough men’s voices chanted the + responses with the full power of their throats. And the high mass + proceeded slowly with its pomp of movement and song. The congregation + prayed from their books or, overcome by the heat, sat yawning or gazing at + the incense-wreaths or started nodding on their chairs. The saints stood + stock-still, smiling from their pedestals and proud in their high day + finery. When the singing ceased, one heard through the dreamy murmur of + the organ the spluttering of the burning candles and the clatter on the + brass dish of the sacristan making the collection. The priest once more + mounted the pulpit and, with the same gestures and action, delivered the + same admonitions as earlier in the morning. Again the people sat listening + and weeping; others slept. More organ-music and singing and praying and + the mass came to an end and the priest turned to the congregation and gave + the blessing. They streamed out of church in a thick crowd and stood in + the road again to see the youngsters pass. Then all of them made their + several ways to the taverns. The first-communicants had to call on aunts + and cousins and friends; and the poorer children went to show their + clothes and asked for pennies. + </p> + <p> + Horieneke and father and the brothers went straight home to await the + visitors. Before they reached the door, they smelt the butter burning in + the pan, the roast and the vegetables. The stove roared softly; and on the + flat pipe stood earthen and iron pots and pans simmering and fretting and + sending up clouds of steam to the rafters. Amidst it all, mother hurried + to and fro in her heavy wooden shoes. Her body still waggled in her wide + jacket and blue petticoat. Her face shone with grease and perspiration. + She puffed and sighed in the intolerable heat. The blue chequered cloth + lay spread on the table; and all around were the plates with the freshly + tinned spoons and forks and little beer-glasses.<a href="#linknote-8" + name="linknoteref-8" id="linknoteref-8"><small>8</small></a> Outside, the + boys sat in the top of the walnut-tree, waiting and peering for any one + coming. Father had taken off his blue smock and turned up his + shirt-sleeves and now went to see to his birds. That was his great hobby + and his work on Sunday every week. All the walls were hung with cages: in + that big one were two canaries, pairing; in the next, a hen-canary sitting + on her eggs; and in a little wire castle lived a linnet and a cock-canary + and three speckled youngsters. The finches were in a long row of darkened + cages and moulting-boxes. When he put out his hands, the whole pack + started singing and whistling; they sprang and fluttered against the bars + and pecked at his fingers. He took the cages down one by one, put them on + the table and whistled and talked to his birds, cleaned the trays and + filled the troughs with fresh water and seed. The canary-bird got a lump + of white sugar and the linnet half an egg, because of her young ones. Then + he stood and watched them washing their beaks and wings and splashing in + the water, pecking at their troughs now full of seed and at their sugar + and cheerfully hopping on and off their perches. Then, when they were all + hung up again in their places on the wall, they all started whistling + together till the kitchen rang with it. The baby screamed in its cradle. + Trientje cried and mother stamped across the floor in her heavy wooden + shoes. + </p> + <p> + “Hi, mates, I see something!” Fonske called from the walnut-tree. + </p> + <p> + The boys stretched their necks and so did father: it was jogging along in + the distance, coming nearer and nearer. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Petrus and Aunt Stanse in the dog-cart!” + </p> + <p> + They slithered out of the tree like cats and ran down the road as fast as + they could. The others now plainly heard the wheels rattling and saw the + great dogs tugging and leaping along as if possessed. High up in the car + sat uncle, with his tall hat on his round head, bolt upright in his glossy + black-broadcloth coat; and beside him broad-bodied Aunt Stanse, with + coloured ribbons fluttering round her cap and a glitter of beads upon her + breast. In between them sat Cousin Isidoor, half-hidden, waving his + handkerchief. They came nearer still, jolting up and down through the + streaks of shade and sunlight between the trees. Uncle Petrus flourished + his hand, pushed his hat back and urged the dogs on; aunt sat with her + face aflame and the drops of sweat on her chubby cheeks, laughing, with + her hands on her hips, because of the shaking of her fat stomach. The dogs + barked and leapt right and left at the boys. Petrus jumped nimbly out of + the cart, ran along the shafts and led the team with a stylish turn out of + the road, through the gate, into the little garden, where it pulled up in + front of the door. The dogs stood still, panting and lolling out their + tongues. Mother was there too and cried, “Welcome,” and took Doorke under + the armpits and lifted him out of the cart. Aunt began by handing out + baskets, parcels and bundles. Then, sticking out her fat legs, in their + white stockings, she climbed out of the cart and looked round at the + youngsters, who already stood hankering to know what was in the basket. + </p> + <p> + “Well, bless me, Frazie, I needn’t ask you how it goes with the chickens! + There’s a whole band of them and all sound and well: just look at them! + Oh, you fatty!” And she pinched Bertje’s red cheeks. “And you too, + Frazie.” + </p> + <p> + “Look at the state I’m in!” said mother, sticking her hands under the + apron stretched tight across her fat stomach and looking down at her bare + legs. “Such a heap to do, no time to dress yet.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re all right as you are, Frazie; you’ve no need to hide your legs nor + t’other either: you’ve a handsome allowance of both,” said Uncle Petrus, + chaffingly. “I’d like a drop of water for the dogs, though.” + </p> + <p> + Father sent the bucket toppling down the well and turned the handle till + it rose filled. The dogs stuck their heads into the bucket and lapped and + gulped greedily. Cousin stood staring bashfully amid all those + peasant-lads and all that jollity, while Bertje, Fonske and the others too + did not come near, but stood looking at the little gentleman with his fine + clothes and his thin, peaky face; they trotted and turned, whispered to + one another, went outside and came back again, laughed and said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “But the first-communicant! Where’s Horieneke?” asked Stanse, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + From the little green arbour, in between the trees, a golden curly-head + came peeping, followed by a little white body and little Trientje too, + holding a great bunch of yellow daffodils in her hand. Stanse stuck out + her arms in the air: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you little butterfly! Come along here, you’re as lovely as an angel!” + </p> + <p> + And she lifted Horieneke from among the flowers, right up to her beaded + breast, and pressed her thick lips to the child’s forehead with a + resounding smack. + </p> + <p> + “Godmother, godmother,” whimpered Trientje. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you too, my duck!” + </p> + <p> + And the child forthwith received two fat kisses on its little cheeks. + </p> + <p> + The dogs were now unharnessed and father and Petrus had gone for a stroll + in the orchard. The boys stood crowding against the table, looking at aunt + undoing her parcels. In one were sweet biscuits, in another brandy-balls, + peppermints, pear-drops and toffy. All this was carefully divided into + little stacks and each child was given his share, with the strict + injunction not to eat any before noon. Fonske hid his in the drawer, next + to the canary-seed, Dolfke his in the cupboard and Bertje shoved his + portion into his pockets. It was not long before three or four of them + were fighting like thieves and robbers, while Stanse and Frazie went to + look at the baby, which lay sleeping quietly in the cradle. + </p> + <p> + First one more drop of cherry-gin apiece and then to dinner. The soup + stood ready ladled out, steaming in the plates. Horieneke sat demurely in + the middle, next to Doorke, with uncle and aunt on either side and, lower + down, father and all the children: mother had to keep moving to and fro, + waiting on them, snatching a mouthful now and again betweenwhiles. When + every one was served and Trientje had stammered out her Our Father aloud, + father once more stood up, as the master of the house, and said: + </p> + <p> + “You are all of you welcome and I wish you a good appetite.” + </p> + <p> + The spoons began to clatter and the tongues to wag: uncle praised the + delicious leek-soup, so did aunt; and then came endless questions from + every side about the news of the district and all that had happened during + the last ten or twelve years, ever since Frazie had married and left her + home. + </p> + <p> + The children sat staring with wide-open eyes, now at their plates, now at + aunt with her fat cheeks and her diamond cross that hung glittering at the + end of a gold chain on her enormous breast; they counted the rings that + were spitted on her fingers right up to the knuckles; they gazed at her + earrings.... As the soup went down, the faces began to shine and mother + pulled at her jacket and complained of the dreadful heat. Father pushed up + the window and opened the back-door. The wind and the scented air, with + pollen from the cherry-trees, now blew across the table and played + refreshingly in their necks and ears. Mother kept on running about and + serving: it was hot carrots now and boiled beef. Father took the flowered + milk-jug and filled the little tumblers with beer. Slices of meat and fat + were cut off with the big carving-knife and distributed; each received his + plateful of glistening carrots; and the forks went bravely to work. After + that, the great iron pot was set on the table, with the rabbits, which, + roasted brown, lay outstretched in the appetizing, simmering gravy that + smelt so good; and beside it a dish of steaming potatoes. The little + tumblers were emptied and filled again; in between the loud talking you + could hear the crunching of the teeth and the cracking of the bones; the + children sat smeared to their eyes and picked the food in their plates + with their hands. Uncle’s eyes began to twinkle and he started making + jokes, so much so that aunt had every moment to stop eating for laughing; + then her broad head would fall backwards and her cheeks, which bloomed + like ripe peaches, creased up and displayed two rows of gleaming ivory + teeth. It all turned to a noisy giggling; and the general merriment could + be heard far away in the other houses. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Petrus enjoyed teasing his sister and made her cry out each time he + declared that, for all her waiting at table and running about, she had + eaten more than he and Brother Ivo put together and that it was no wonder + she had grown such a body and bred such fine youngsters. The mighty din + woke the baby and started it crying loudly in its cradle. Fonske took it + out and put it in mother’s lap. It was as fresh and pink as a rose-bud; it + kicked its little legs about and shoved its fists into its eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, darling, you’re hungry too, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + And she unbuttoned her jacket and from behind her shift produced her great + right breast. The baby stuck its hands into that wealth of whiteness, + seized the proffered nipple in its mouth and started greedily sucking. + After the first eager gulps it gradually quieted, closed its eyes and lay + softly drinking, rocked on mother’s heaving lap. Isidoorke kept looking at + this as at something very strange that alarmed him. Horieneke, noticing + it, held up a rabbit-leg to him and told him of those pretty white rabbits + which she had seen slaughtered yesterday. The other youngsters had now + eaten their fill and began to feel terribly bored at table. Bertje gave + Fonske a kick on the shin and they went outside together, whispering like + boys with some roguery in view. Wartje, Dolfke and the others followed + them outside. When it was all well planned, they beckoned behind the door + to Doorke; and, when the little man came out at last: + </p> + <p> + “Is it true, Doorke? Do you dare go among the dogs?” + </p> + <p> + And they led him on gently by his velvet jacket, behind the house to the + bake-house, where the dogs lay blinking in the shade, with their heads + stretched on their paws. + </p> + <p> + Doorke nodded; and, to show how well-behaved they were, he went close up + to them and stroked their backs. + </p> + <p> + “And is it also true,” asked Bertje, with mischievous innocence, “that you + know how to harness them?” + </p> + <p> + Doorke looked surprised and again nodded yes. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s see if you dare!” + </p> + <p> + “Hoo, hoo, Baron!” said Doorke. + </p> + <p> + And he took the dog by the collar, put the girths on him and fastened the + traces while Fonske held up the cart. + </p> + <p> + “And that other one too?” + </p> + <p> + Doorke did the same with the other dog and with the third; and they were + now all three harnessed. Bertje took the cart by the shafts and drew it + very softly, without a sound, under the windows and through the little + gate into the road. The other boys bit their fingers, held their breaths + and followed on tip-toe. Then they all crept into the cart; and, when they + were comfortably seated, Bertje took the reins and: + </p> + <p> + “Gee up!” + </p> + <p> + Wartje struck the dogs with the handle of the whip and they leapt forward + lustily and the cart rolled along through the clouds of dust rising from + the sandy road. + </p> + <p> + Horieneke had come up too and watched this silent sport; and she now stood + alone with Doorke, looking along the trees, where the cart was + disappearing towards the edge of the wood. When there was nothing more to + see, they both went indoors. + </p> + <p> + Uncle and aunt and father were now talking quietly and earnestly, over + three cups of coffee. Mother still sat with the baby on her lap, where it + had fallen asleep while sucking. Aunt was constantly wiping the glistening + perspiration from her forehead; and she unbuttoned her silk dress because + she had eaten too much and her heart was beginning to swell. + </p> + <p> + “Shouldn’t we be better out of doors?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Mother tucked in her breast, buttoned her jacket and laid the child + carefully in the cradle, near Trientje, who sat sleeping in her little + baby-chair. They left everything as it was: table and plates and pots and + glasses. Father and uncle filled their pipes and went outside under the + elder-tree, in the shade. The wives tucked their clothes between their + legs and lay down in the grass. Aunt had carefully rolled up her silk + skirt and was in her white petticoat. + </p> + <p> + They now went on talking: an incessant tattle about getting children and + bringing them up, about housekeeping and about land and sand and parish + news, until, overcome by the heat and the weight of their bodies, they let + their heads fall and closed their eyes and seemed to sleep. Uncle and + father stood looking at them a little longer and then, in their white + shirt-sleeves, with their thumbs in their tight trouser-bands, went up the + narrow little path, in the blazing sun, to look at the wheat and the flax, + which were already high. + </p> + <p> + Horieneke and Doorke were now left looking at each other. Horieneke began + to tire of this; and she took the boy by the hand and led him into the + house and up to her room. There she showed him her holy pictures on the + wall and her little statues; they sat down side by side on the bed; and + Horieneke told him the whole of her life and the doings of the last few + days, all that she had longed for and to-day’s happiness. The boy listened + to her gladly; he looked at her with his big, brown eyes and sat still + closer to her on the bed. He had now to see her pretty clothes; and they + went together to the best bedroom where the veil lay and the wreath and + her prayer-book and earrings. She must next really show him what she had + looked like that morning in church; and he helped her put on the veil, + placed the wreath on her curls and then took a few steps backwards to see. + He thought her very pretty; and they smiled happily. Then everything was + taken off again; and they went hand in hand, like a brother and sister who + had not seen each other for some time, to walk in the little + flower-garden. Here they looked at every leaf and named every flower that + was about to open. When everything had been thoroughly inspected, they sat + and chatted in the box arbour, very seriously, like grown-up people. Then + they also became tired and Horieneke put her arm over Doorke’s shoulder, + allowed her golden curls to play in his eyes and in this way they walked + out, down the road, towards the wood. Here they were all alone with the + birds twittering in the trees and the crickets chirping in the grass + beside the ditch. + </p> + <p> + Everywhere, as far as they could see, was corn and green fields and + sunshine and stillness. They strolled down the long, cheerful road. Doorke + held his arm round Horieneke’s tight-laced little waist and listened to + all the new things which his cousin described so prettily; and she too + felt a great delight in having this boy, with his brown eyes and his lean + shoulder-blades, beside her, listening to her and looking at her and + understanding her ever so much better than her rough little brothers did. + She would have liked to walk on all her life like this, in that golden + sunshine, telling him how she had read that beautiful prayer in church + this morning ... and about the priest’s sermon ... and those pretty angels + with their gold wings, who had walked up and down so calmly and placidly; + about her dread during the communion-mass and her fear and sorrow because + Our Lord had not spoken in her little heart. And so, talking and + listening, they came to the wood. It looked so pleasant under those + pollard alders in the shade and farther on in the dark, among the spruces, + where the light filtered through in meagre rays, after that long walk in + the blinding sun. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s go in!” said Doorke and was on the point of going down the little + path that ran beside the ditch, in among the trees. + </p> + <p> + “We mustn’t!” said Horieneke; and she clutched him by the arm. + </p> + <p> + Her face grew very serious and she wrinkled her forehead: + </p> + <p> + “Look there!” + </p> + <p> + And she pointed through a gap between the trees down to the valley where, + above the tall trunks, they could see the whole expanse of a big + homestead, with the long thatched roofs of stable and barn and the tiles + and slates of the house and turrets. She put her mouth to his ear and + whispered: + </p> + <p> + “That’s where the rent-farmer lives ... and he’s a bad, bad man. He does + wicked things to the little girls who go into the wood; and mother says + that then they fall ill and die and then they go to Hell!” + </p> + <p> + Doorke did not understand very well, but he saw from Horieneke’s wide-open + eyes that it was serious. They sat down together on the edge of the ditch, + with their legs in the grass, played with the daisies and listened to the + thrushes gurgling deep down in the wood. They sat there for a long time. + The sun sank to the top of the oak; the sky was flecked with white clouds + which shot through the heavens in long diverging shafts, like a huge + peacock’s tail upon an orange field. + </p> + <p> + The children mused: + </p> + <p> + “I should like to fall down dead, here and now,” said Horieneke. + </p> + <p> + Doorke looked up in surprise: + </p> + <p> + “Why, Horieneke?” + </p> + <p> + “Then I should be in Heaven at once.” + </p> + <p> + They again sat thinking a little: + </p> + <p> + “Playing with the angels!... Have you ever seen angels, Doorke?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in the procession, Horieneke.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but I mean live ones! I saw some last night, live ones; and they were + in white, Doorke, with long trains and golden hair and diamond crowns, and + they were singing in a beautiful garden!...” + </p> + <p> + With raised eyebrows and earnest gestures of her little forefinger, she + told him all her dream of the angels and the swings and the singing and + the music ... and of father with his sickle. + </p> + <p> + Doorke hung upon her words. + </p> + <p> + The thrush started anew and they sat listening. + </p> + <p> + “What will you do when you grow up, Doorke?” + </p> + <p> + And she put her arm round the boy’s neck again and looked fondly into his + eyes: + </p> + <p> + “Will you get married, Doorke?” + </p> + <p> + Doorke shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Not even to me?” + </p> + <p> + And she looked at him with such a roguish smile that the boy felt ashamed. + Then, to comfort him, she said: + </p> + <p> + “Nor I either, Doorke. Do you know what I’m going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Horieneke.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Doorke, I’ll tell you all about it, but promise on your soul not + to tell anybody: Bertje, Fonske and all the rest mustn’t know.” + </p> + <p> + Doorke nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Father wanted me to go into service down there, with all those wicked + people. Then I cried for days and days and prayed to Our Lord; and mother + told father that I was dying; and then she said that I might ... Try and + guess, Doorke!” + </p> + <p> + Doorke made no attempt to guess. Then she drew him closer to her and + whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Mother said I might stay at home and help her ... and afterwards, when I + am grown up ... I shall become a nun, Doorke, in a convent; but first + mother must get another baby, a new Horieneke.... And you?” + </p> + <p> + The boy didn’t know. + </p> + <p> + “And you, Doorke, must learn to be a priest; then you and I will both go + to Heaven.” + </p> + <p> + Behind them, on the road, came a noise and a rush and an outcry so great + that the children started up in fright. Look! It was Bertje and all the + little brothers in the dog-cart, which was coming back home through the + sand. When they saw cousin and Horieneke, they raised a mighty shout of + joy and stopped. Bertje stood erect and issued his commands: all the boys + must get out; he would remain sitting on the front seat, with Horieneke + and Doorke side by side behind him, between two leafy branches, like a + bride and bridegroom! Fonske cut two branches from an alder-tree and + fastened them to either side of the cart. Then they set out, amid the + shouting and cheering of the boys running in front and behind: + </p> + <p> + “Ready?” + </p> + <p> + “Ye-e-es!” + </p> + <p> + The dogs gave an angry jerk forward and the cart went terribly fast and + Doorke clutched Horieneke with one hand and with the other warded off the + hanging willow-twigs that lashed their faces. + </p> + <p> + The sun had gone down and a red light was glowing in the west, high up in + the tender blue. The air had turned cooler and a cold, clammy damp was + falling over the fields, which now lay steaming deadly still in the rising + mist that already shrouded the trees in blue and darkened the distances. + </p> + <p> + At the turn of the road, the children stepped out of the cart and put it + away carefully behind the bake-house, tied up the panting dogs and + sauntered into the house. + </p> + <p> + “Father, we’ve been out with cousin,” said Bertje. + </p> + <p> + They had to take their coffee and their cakebread-and-butter in a hurry: + it was time to put the dogs in, said uncle. + </p> + <p> + Doorke said they were put in. + </p> + <p> + Frazie helped her sister on with her things: + </p> + <p> + “You’ll find the looking-glass hanging in the window, Stanse. I must go + and put on another skirt too and come a bit of the way with you.” + </p> + <p> + The boys were to stay at home; they got the rest of the sweets and were + ordered to bed at once. Horieneke was told to take off her best clothes; + it was evening and the goats had still to be fed. She went to her little + room reluctantly and could have cried because it was all over now and + because it was so melancholy in the dark. She felt ashamed when she came + down again and glanced askance at Doorke, who would think her so plain in + her week-day clothes. The boy looked at her and said nothing; then he + jumped into the cart and drove off slowly. Mother with Stanse and father + with uncle came walking behind. + </p> + <p> + It was still light; the evening was falling slowly, slowly, as though the + daylight would never end. In the west the sky was hung with white and gold + tapestry against an orange background. On the other side, the moon, very + wan still, floated in the pale-blue all around it. Beside the bluey trees + long purple stripes of shadow now lay, with fallen clusters of branches, + on the plain. You could hardly tell if day or night were at hand. + </p> + <p> + Uncle and aunt were extremely pleased with their visit; uncle looked + contentedly into the distance and boasted that he had never seen such an + evening nor such fine weather so early in the year, while Frazie at each + step flung her arms into the air and stopped to say things to Stanse, + whose good-natured laugh rang out over the plain and along the road. In + front of them, Doorke, like a little black shadow, danced up and down in + his cart to the jolting of the wheels as he jogged quietly along. The + crickets chirped in the ditch; and from high up in the trees came the + dying twitter of birds about to go to sleep. + </p> + <p> + Father wanted to drink a parting glass of beer in the Swan; Doorke could + drive along slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Just five minutes then,” said Petrus. + </p> + <p> + There were many people in the inn and much loud merriment. The new + arrivals were soon sitting among the others, staying on and listening to + all the jolly songs; and, when this had gone on for some time, they forgot + the hour and the parting. Aunt Stanse held her stomach with laughing; she + was not behindhand when the glasses had to be emptied or when her turn + came to sing a song. Amid the turmoil, the rent-farmer came up to Frazie, + took her impudently by the arm, laughingly wished her <i>proficiat</i> + with her pretty daughter and, after slyly looking about him for + confirmation, said, half in earnest: + </p> + <p> + “We’re planting potatoes to-morrow at the Rent Farm, we shall want lots of + hands; missie may as well come too.” + </p> + <p> + And with that he went back to his game of cards. + </p> + <p> + This time, the leave-taking was genuine. Petrus got up; and it was + good-bye till next year, when Doorke would make his first communion. + </p> + <p> + The cart was waiting outside the door; they stepped in, uncle took the + reins. + </p> + <p> + “A safe ride home!” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks for the pleasant visit! And to our next merry meeting!” + </p> + <p> + “God speed!... Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + “Gee up!” + </p> + <p> + The dogs sprang forward, the cart rumbled along and soon the whole thing + had become a shapeless black patch among the black trees. In the still + night they could just hear the wheels rattling over the cobbles; and then + Ivo and Frazie went home again. + </p> + <p> + A breeze came playing through the garden, sighing now and again with a + sound as soft as silk; the moon shone upon the dark trees and its light + played like golden snow-flakes dancing and fluttering down upon the + gleaming crests of the green bushes and the milk-white plain. The air was + heavy and stifling, full of warm damp; and strong-scented gusts of fresh, + rain-laden perfumes blew across the road. + </p> + <p> + They stepped hurriedly on the legs of their long shadows and did not + speak. There came a new rustling in the trees and a few big, cool drops of + rain pattered on the sand, one here, one there and gradually quicker. + </p> + <p> + Ivo and Frazie hastened their pace; but, when the great drops began to + fall on them thick as hail and around them in the sand, till the rain + streaked through the air and rattled tremendously over their heads, mother + held her body with both hands to prevent its shaking, Ivo tied his red + handkerchief over his silk cap and they started running. + </p> + <p> + “It was main hot for the time of year.” + </p> + <p> + “And the flowers smelt too strong and the thrush sang so loud.” + </p> + <p> + It went on raining: a wholesome, cleansing downpour, a slow descent in + slanting lines that glittered in the moonlight, bringing health to the + earth. The air was fragrant with the wet grass and the white flowers: it + was like a rich garden. At home, everything was put away, the table + cleared and wiped; the lamp was alight and all the doors open. The boys + were in bed. Horieneke had read evening prayers to them and then hurried + to her little room, to be alone; and there she had lain thinking of all + that had happened during that long day: her jaws ached from the constant + smiling; and she felt dead-tired and sad. + </p> + <p> + Father took off his wet blouse and mother stirred up the fire: they would + have one more cup of coffee, with a drop of something, and then go to bed. + Ivo lit his pipe and stretched out his legs to dry beside the stove. + </p> + <p> + They drank their coffee and listened to the steady breathing of the boys + and the dripping of the gutters on the cobbles outside. Father made a + remark or two about uncle and aunt and about their village, but got only + half-answers from his wife. Then, all of a sudden, he asked: + </p> + <p> + “What did the farmer come and say to you?” + </p> + <p> + Frazie sighed: + </p> + <p> + “They’re planting potatoes to-morrow and we were to go and work; and + Horieneke was to come too.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay.” + </p> + <p> + “But she’ll stay here!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, stay here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she’s got her work to do at home.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; but if she has to go?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t care.” + </p> + <p> + And mother stood with her arms akimbo, looking at her husband, waiting for + his answer. + </p> + <p> + “And if he turns us out and leaves us without work!” + </p> + <p> + “And suppose our child comes home with a present ... from that beast of a + farmer!” + </p> + <p> + Ivo knocked out his pipe: + </p> + <p> + “Pooh, that could happen to her anywhere; and, after all, she won’t be + tied to her mother’s apron-strings all her life long!... When you live in + a man’s house and eat his bread, you’ve got to work for it and do his + will: the master is the master. Come, let’s go to bed; we’ve a lot to do + tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + Suppressed sobs came from the little bedroom. Mother looked in. Horieneke + lay with her hands before her eyes, crying convulsively. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what’s the matter?” + </p> + <p> + The child pressed her head to the wall and wept harder than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, wife, damn it! It’s time that all this foolery was over, or + she’ll lose her senses altogether.” + </p> + <p> + Mother grew impatient, bit her teeth: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you blessed cry-baby!” + </p> + <p> + And angrily she thumped the child on the hip with her clenched fist and + left her lying there. + </p> + <p> + “A nice thing, getting children: one’d rather bring up puppies any day!” + </p> + <p> + She turned out the light and it was now dark and still; outside, the thin + rain dripped and the white blossoms blew from the trees and the whole air + smelt wonderfully good. In the distance, the nightingale hidden in the + wood jugged and gurgled without stopping; and it was like the pealing of a + church-organ all night long. + </p> + <p> + The weather had broken up and the day dawned with a melancholy drizzle and + a cold wind. The sky remained grey, discharging misty raindrops which + soaked into everything and hung trembling like strung pearls on the leaves + of the beech-hedge and on the grass and on the cornstalks in the fields. + It was suddenly winter again. On the hilly field the people stood black, + wrapped up, with their caps drawn over their ears and their red + handkerchiefs round their necks. The hoes went up in the air one after the + other and struck the moist earth, which opened into straight furrows from + one end to the other of the field. Here wives walked barefoot, bent, with + baskets on their arm from which they kept taking potatoes and laying them, + at a foot’s distance, in the open trench. In a corner of the field stood + the farmer, his big body leaning on a stick; and his dark eyes watched his + labourers. + </p> + <p> + There, in the midst of them, was Horieneke, bent also like the others, in + her coarse workaday clothes, with a basket of seed-potatoes on her arm; + and her red-gold curls now hung, like long corkscrews, wet against her + face; and every now and then she would draw herself up, tossing her head + back to keep them out of her eyes. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. IN THE SQUALL + </h2> + <p> + At noon, under the blazing sun, all three started for the wood, after + blackberries. + </p> + <p> + Trientje was in her cotton pinafore, with a straw hat on her head and a + wicker basket on her arm. Lowietje stood in his worn breeches and his torn + shirt; in his pocket he had a new climbing-cord. Each dragged Poentje by + one hand, Poentje who still went about in his little shirt and, with his + wide-straddling little bare legs, trotted on between brother and sister. + </p> + <p> + They went along narrow, winding foot-paths, between the cornfields, high + as a man, through the flax-meadows and the yellow blinking mustard-flower. + The sun bit into Lowietje’s bare head and sent the sweat trickling down + his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + They went always on, with their eyes fixed upon that thick crowd of blue + trees full of blithe green and of dark depths behind the farthermost + trunks. + </p> + <p> + Poentje became tired and let himself be dragged along by his hands. When + he began to cry, they sat down in the ditch beside the corn to rest. + Trientje opened her basket and they ate up all their bread-and-butter. + Near them, in the grass, ants crept in and out of a little hole. Lowietje + poked with a stick and the whole nest came crawling out. The children sat + looking to see all those beasties swarm about and run away with their + eggs. + </p> + <p> + All three stood up and went past the old mill, then through the meadow and + so, at last, they came to the wood and into the cool shade. On the banks + of the deep, hollowed path, it all stood thick as hail and black with the + brambleberries. Lowietje picked, never stopped picking, and put them one + by one in his mouth; and his nose and cheeks were smeared with red, like + blood. Trientje steadily picked her whole basket full and Poentje sat + playing on the way-side grass with a bunch of cornflowers. + </p> + <p> + In the wood, everything was still: the trees stood firmly in the blaze of + the sun and the young leaves hung gleaming, without stirring. A bird sat + very deep down whistling and its song rang out as in a great church. + Turtle-doves cooed far away. Round the children’s ears hummed big fat + bees, buzzing from flower to flower. When the bank was stripped, they went + deeper into the wood, Lowietje going ahead to show the way. They crept + through the trees where it twilighted and where the sun played so prettily + with little golden arrows in the leafage; from there they came into the + high pine-wood. Look, look! There were other boys ... and they knew where + birds lived! + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Trientje,” said Lowietje. “You stay here with Poentje: I’ll come + back at once and bring your pinafore full of birds’ eggs ... and young + ones.” + </p> + <p> + He fetched out his climbing-cord and, in a flash, all the boys were gone, + behind the trees. Trientje heard them shout and yell and, a little later, + she saw her little brother sitting high up on the slippery trunk of a + beech. She put her hands to her mouth and screamed: + </p> + <p> + “Lo—wie!...” + </p> + <p> + It echoed three or four times over the low shoots and against the tall + trees, but Lowietje did not hear. + </p> + <p> + A man now came striding down the path; he carried a gun on his shoulder. + The boys had only just seen him and, on every side, they came scrambling + out of the tree-tops, slid down the trunks and darted into the underwood. + Breathless, bewildered and scared to death, Lowietje came to his sister + and, with his two hands, held the rents of his trousers together: + </p> + <p> + “There were eight eggs there, Trientje, but the keeper came and, in the + sliding, my trousers....” + </p> + <p> + And he let a strip fall. They were torn from end to end, from top to + bottom, in each leg. + </p> + <p> + “Mother will be angry,” said Trientje, very earnestly. + </p> + <p> + She took some pins from her frock and fastened the tears, so that the skin + did not show. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly fell a rumbling thunder-clap that droned through all the wood and + died away in a long chain of rough sounds. The children looked at one + another and then at the trees and the sky. All stood black now, the sun + was gone and a warm wind came working through the boughs, by gusts. It + grew dark as night and at times most terribly silent. + </p> + <p> + And now—they all crossed themselves—a ball of fire flew + through the sky and it cracked and broke and it tore all that was in the + wood. The wind came up, the branches rocked and writhed and the leaves + fluttered and tugged and heavy drops beat into the sand. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, quick!” said Trientje. “It’s going to lighten!” + </p> + <p> + Lowietje said nothing and Poentje cried. Each took the child by one hand + and they ran as fast as they could to get from under the trees. + </p> + <p> + “Ooh! Ooh!” + </p> + <p> + They dashed their hands before their eyes and stood still: a golden snake + twisted round a tree and all the wood was bright with fire and there came + a droning and a rumbling and a banging as of stones together and a hundred + thousand branches burst asunder. Shivering, not daring to look up, they + crossed themselves again and all three crept under the branches, deep down + in a ditch. Trientje tied her pinafore over the little one’s face and they + sat there huddled together, shuddering and peeping through their fingers + and saying loud Our Fathers. + </p> + <p> + “You must not look, Lowietje: the lightning would strike you blind.” + </p> + <p> + The trees wrung their heavy boughs and everything squeaked and rustled + terribly. The water rained and poured from the leafy vault on Trientje’s + straw hat, on Lowietje’s bare head and right through his little torn + shirt. And clap and clap of thunder fell; the sky opened and belched fire + like a hot oven. The children sat nestling into each other’s arms—Poentje + down under the other two—and only when it had kept still for long + did they all, trembling and terrified, dare to put out their heads. + </p> + <p> + “I wish we were home now!” sighed Lowietje. + </p> + <p> + Once more the sky was all on fire and rumbling and breaking and crackling + till the earth quaked and shook. + </p> + <p> + “O God, O God, help us get out of the wood and home to mother!” whined + Trientje. + </p> + <p> + When they opened their eyes again, they saw below them, in the bottom, a + huge beech with a bough struck off and the white splinters bare, with + leaves awkwardly twisted right round: it stood there like a fellow with + one arm off. + </p> + <p> + The rain now fell steadily in straight stripes; the noise grew fainter and + the sky broke open. + </p> + <p> + Soaked through with the wet, the children came creeping out of the ditch + and now, holding their breaths, stood looking at that tree which was so + awesomely cleft and at that crippled bough which hung swinging over space. + The thunder still rumbled, but it was very far away, like heavy waggons + rattling over hard stones. Lowietje caught his little brother up on his + back and they made straight for the opening of the drove, where they saw a + clear sky. They must get out of the wood, away from those trees where such + fearful things happened and where it cracked so and where it was so dark. + </p> + <p> + Outside, the heaven hung full of gold-edged clouds and the sun drove its + bright darts through the sky. The rain fell in lovely gleaming drops and + all looked so new, so fresh and so strangely glad as after a fit of + weeping, when the glistening tears hang in laughing eyes. ‘Twas all so + peaceful here and ‘twas far behind them that the trees were twisted and + bent. Here and there flew birds; and the cuckoo sat calling in a + cornfield. Lowietje’s shirt was glued to his skin; his trousers hung + heavily from his limbs and his hair fell in dripping tresses, sticking + along his cheeks. The white spots on Trientje’s pinafore were run through + with the black; and wet cornstalks whipped her little thin skirt. Poentje + splashed with his naked little feet in the puddles and asked for mother. + </p> + <p> + “We’re almost home, child,” said Trientje, to soothe him. + </p> + <p> + They went through the wet grass and fragrant cornfields along the slippery + footpaths to a big road. + </p> + <p> + Look, there, behind the turning, came mother: she had a sack-cloth over + her head and two umbrellas under her arm; she looked angry and ugly. + </p> + <p> + “We shall get a beating,” sighed Lowietje. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. A PIPE OR NO PIPE + </h2> + <p> + He dropped his wheel-barrow, strode from between the shafts and went and + looked into the great window of the tobacco-shop. His eyes were all full, + as far as they could carry: an abundance and a splendour to dream about. + He came a step nearer and rested his two elbows on the stone window-sill, + to see more comfortably. + </p> + <p> + Two stacks of motley cigar-boxes stood on either side and ran together at + the top into a rounded arch, from which hung long, long pipes, + cinnamon-wood pipes, as thick as your arm, with green strings to them and + huge, big bowls, artfully carved into the heads of the King, of hideous + niggers, or of pretty girls with beads for eyes. + </p> + <p> + On thick, transparent glass slips lay whole files of meerschaum pipes, + furnished with clear curved-amber mouthpieces: fishes’ heads, + lobster-claws holding an eggshell, horses’ heads, cows’ hoofs; rich + cigar-holders of meerschaum, all over silver stars and gold bands. Heaps + and heaps and lots and lots of every kind, as far as he could see; and all + this was multiplied in two enormous mirrors, in which, yonder, far back + among all this smoking-gear, he saw his own face staring at him out of his + great, astonished eyes. + </p> + <p> + He sighed. It was all so beautiful, so rich! And now if mother had only + got work! + </p> + <p> + He went over it once more. Down below, in little plush-lined trays, lay + the small pipes, the boys’ stuff. They lay scattered higgledy-piggledy, + whole handfuls of them, crooked and straight, brown and black. His eyes + thieved round voluptuously in those trays and they read with eager + curiosity the neatly-written figures which informed the world how much + each pipe cost. + </p> + <p> + Here, they were crooked, comical little things of black cocus-wood; there, + they were motley, speckled round bowls, like birds’ eggs, with white + stems; but they cost too much. And yet they were so charitably beautiful! + Now his eyes remained hankering after a splendid varnished bowl. It was + almost tucked out of sight, but it glittered so temptingly and had a + lovely brown ring at the edge, shading downwards to a pale gold-yellow: + there was a little cup for the oil to sweat into and a fat cinnamon stem, + with a horn mouthpiece. He examined it on every side and would have liked + to turn it over with his eyes. Inside the bowl stood, in black figures: + </p> + <p> + “1 <i>fr</i>. 50.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother!...” + </p> + <p> + That was the one he wanted, that was his. She had promised him a pipe if + she got work to-day. If only she had brought work with her! + </p> + <p> + After one last look and one more ... he went on. + </p> + <p> + He caught up his barrow and pushed it, over the wide road, straight to the + station. + </p> + <p> + There he had to wait. + </p> + <p> + He loitered round the dreary, deserted yard. The noon sun bit the naked + stones; and everything, hiding and shrinking from that glowing sun-fire, + seemed dead. The drivers sat slumbering on the boxes of their cabs; the + horses stood on three legs, their heads down, crookedwise between the + shafts, and now and then they gave a short stamp, to keep off the flies, + which were terribly active. A group of loafers lay sleeping on their + stomachs in the shade. A slow-moving vehicle drove past and disappeared + round the corner. A dog came stepping up lazily and went and lay under the + sunflowers near the signal-box, blinking his eyes. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing more that moved. + </p> + <p> + At last the train came gliding in very gently, without noise, and it sent + a gulp or two of white smoke into the quivering blue sky. + </p> + <p> + Now the boy stood stretching his neck through the railings, on the + look-out for his mother, whom he already saw in his thoughts, coming bent, + with a heavily-laden bag of weaving-stuff; and the pipe was in his pocket + ... or else nothing, nothing at all! + </p> + <p> + ‘Twas a fat gentleman that got out first; then a tall, thin one; then a + woman; then another woman; always others; and now, now it was mother. She + stuck out her thin leg, groping from the high foot-board to find the + ground, and ... she had an empty blue-and-white canvas bag on her + shoulder. His lower lip dropped sadly and he turned slowly to his barrow: + </p> + <p> + “No work yet. God better it!” + </p> + <p> + The mother threw her bag on the wheel-barrow and they went on, without + speaking. + </p> + <p> + Straight opposite the tobacco-shop, the boy gave a sidelong glance at the + great window, with all those rich things displayed behind it, and he + whistled a little tune. + </p> + <p> + They had still far, very far to go, before they two were at home, in their + village. And the sun was burning. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. ON SUNDAYS + </h2> + <p> + In his Sunday best! A red-and-yellow flowered scarf was tied round his + sun-burnt neck and the two ends blew over his shoulders; a small + brown-felt hat with a curly brim was drawn down upon his head and, from + under it, came here and there a wisp of flaxen hair. He wore a small, open + jacket, with a short waistcoat, from under which a clean blue shirt bulged + out; and his long, much too long trousers fell in wide folds over his big + cossack shoes.<a href="#linknote-9" name="linknoteref-9" id="linknoteref-9"><small>9</small></a> + Under his arm he carried a bundle knotted into a red handkerchief, while + with the other hand he twirled a switch. + </p> + <p> + He was a growing youngster, a well-set-up cowherd, with a brown, freckled + face, small, pale-grey eyes, under milk-white eyebrows, and bony knees and + elbows: a sturdy fellow in the making. + </p> + <p> + ‘Twas heavenly, grand Sunday weather: it shone with light and life and it + was all green, pale, splendid green, against a clear blue sky in the + middle of the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + He stepped on bravely, along the wide drove of elms, twisting his switch, + and looked into the free sky with his young, grey-blue eyes. He thought + ... of what? Of nothing! Truly, of nothing: what does a cowherd think of? + Wait a bit, though; he was thinking: ‘twas Sunday! It was Sunday once + more, the glad Sunday! And there were so few Sundays in those long, long + weeks. And he was going home for a few hours: yes, home; and from there to + Stafke’s and to Stafke’s pigeons. + </p> + <p> + He was hard-worked at the farm: twenty-nine cow-beasts, which were always + hungry and always wanted fattening; furthermore, a whole herd of calves + and hogs: ‘twas a drudging without end or bottom, from early morning to + late at night, until his limbs hung lame. + </p> + <p> + The farmer was good but strict and could not abide sluggards; he looked + for work, hard work; and this the lad was glad to give, but only while + looking forward to the everlasting Sunday, in which lay all his happiness + and cheer. + </p> + <p> + He quickened his steps; and the elms pushed by, one by one, and at last, + ahead, very far down that dark hedge of stems and leafage, came a tiny + opening where the trees seemed to touch one another. + </p> + <p> + Look! There, beside the little village church, stood Farmer Willems’ + homestead, with its little slate turret and the great poplars and, beside + it, close together and quite hidden in the green, two little cottages. + ‘Twas there that he was brought up and had grown up; there, in one of + those cottages. In the other lived Stafke’s father and mother. The + children had led the half-wild life of the country there: two little boys + together. They had clambered up those mighty trees, weltered in the sand + of the drove and coursed like foals in the meadow. The farm was a free + domain to them; they were at home in it; they went daily to the little + door of the wash-house to fetch their slice of rye-bread-and-butter and, + in the morning, an apple or a pear. They had lain and rolled in the + hay-loft, like fish in the water; but all that had passed so quickly, so + very quickly. The parish-priest came; and, for six months, six long + months, they had had to go to school and church. Then, on a certain Monday + morning, father said: + </p> + <p> + “Lad, you’re coming along to the farm to-day, to bind corn.” + </p> + <p> + Play was over, the free play of the country! They were pressed into + labour, were saddled with the labourer’s heavy burden. Since then, it had + been an endless roving after work, from one farm to another, with his + bundle under his arm. + </p> + <p> + Stafke had remained serving at Willems’, with father, and he, on Sunday + afternoons, had not so far to go, under the burning sun, in order to get + home. + </p> + <p> + The way was long for an unthinking lad; and they seemed endless, those + never-changing rows of tree-trunks, those uncounted yellow, blinking + cornfields ... and never a creature on the road. It was something very + much out of the way when a pigeon flew through the azure sky; the lad + stood still and, turning round, followed the great ring which it made + until it dropped far away, yonder among the houses of the village. Then he + went on, pondering, as he went, that there was nothing, absolutely nothing + lovelier than a milk-white pigeon in a pale-blue sky; and he whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it’s Stafke’s pigeon.” + </p> + <p> + On reaching home, he laid down his bundle; his baby sister came running up + to him, with her little arms wide open, and held him by his legs; and he + lifted her twice, three times above his head. He handed mother his + earnings; and then, out of the door, to Stafke’s! + </p> + <p> + “Roz’lie, is he in?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, he’s up in the loft, with the pigeons.” + </p> + <p> + He climbed up the ladder, in three steps and as carefully as he could, to + the dovecote. Behind a swarm of half-stretched and loose-hanging clouts + and canvas things, a lad sat on an overturned tub, his fair-haired curly + head in his hands, his elbows on his knees, peering through a sort of + lattice-work. Jaak sat down at the other side, on a bundle of maize, in + just the same attitude, and looked too.... + </p> + <p> + There were white, snow-white, mottled, blue, slate-blue, russet, speckled, + grey, black-flecked, striped and spotted pigeons, doves, pouters—some + cocks, the rest hens—a motley crowd all mixed up together. There + were some that sat murmuring one to the other, softly—oh, so softly—and + nodding their heads for sheer kindliness. Others cooed loudly, angrily or + indifferently and tripped round one another. Others sat huddled, + meditating, lonely and forlorn, blinking their bright little glittering + eyes. + </p> + <p> + Through the holes, from the resting-board, new ones came walking in with + shy feet and sought a little place for themselves; others passed out + through the narrow opening and, flapping their wings, rose into the sky. + ‘Twas a humming and muttering without end, a murmuring and whispering loud + and soft and a restless stir and movement: a little world full of + neatly-dressed damsels, who were all so lightly, so prettily decked out + and who knew how to manage their trains and their fine clothes so demurely + and so comically. They carefully combed and cleaned their black velvet + ruffs, smoothed their sharp-striped feathers one by one, fondled and + rubbed their downy breasts till they shone like new-blown roses.... + </p> + <p> + And Jaak and Stafke sat watching this, sat watching this, like two steel + statues, sweating in that warm loft. They did not stir nor speak a single + word. + </p> + <p> + And that lasted and went on.... + </p> + <p> + It grew dusk. From every side the pigeons came flying in, whole troops of + them, and sought their well-known roosts. They stood two and two, closely + crowded together on the perches or huddled in the holes. They drew their + heads into their feathered throats and slept. The rumour diminished to + just a soft mumbling; and then nothing more. The pigeon that sat over + there, squatting low on her eggs, faded from sight in her dark corner; and + the whole upper row vanished in the dusk of the rafters. + </p> + <p> + The boys still sat on. + </p> + <p> + The dovecote became a pale-grey twilight thing, with drab and black + patches here and there. The soft humming passed into a faint buzz that + died away quite; and all was silence. + </p> + <p> + They both together stood up straight, gave a long-drawn sigh and went + below. + </p> + <p> + “It’s getting dark,” said Jaak, wiping the sweat from his face. “The cows + will be waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Stafke. “It gets evening all at once. Well, Jaak, till + Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + And Jaak went away, through the now moonlit drove, with a new bundle under + his arm and thinking of the farm, of his twenty-nine cow-beasts and of + Sunday and of Stafke’s pigeons.... + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Il y a des malheurs qui arrivent + d’un pas si lent et si sûr qu’ils + paraissent faire partie de la vie + journalière.</i> +</pre> + <h3> + MONTALEMBERT. + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. AN ACCIDENT + </h2> + <p> + He had been half awake several times already, but each time he had slipped + back into an uneasy doze, a restless, wearisome sojourn in a strange, + drowsy world, in which he struggled with stupid, silly dream-spectres, all + jumbled together in a huddled mass of incoherent, impossible thoughts and + actions; a blank world in which all his workaday doings were forgotten; an + after-life of tiring sleep following on the carouse of yesterday. He lay + half-suffocated in the stifling heat of that tiled garret, lay tossing on + a straw mattress. And suddenly, with a jolt that jerked him sleeping like + a beast of burden. And now why couldn’t he take life as it came, like his + mates, who just went through it anyhow, without any calculating, callously + and cheerfully, something like a machine which, when the sun comes out and + it is daylight, begins to move arms and legs, to twist and turn the whole + day long and, when it is evening again and dark, falls down and remains + lying dead, for a few hours, with all the other things? + </p> + <p> + He drew himself up, thrust his thin legs into his trousers, his arms into + a dirty jacket and let his weary limbs carry him below. His mother had + buttoned up the linen satchel with his two slices of bread-and-butter and + had ladled out his porridge. He went out followed by a “God guard you, + lad!” and the little woman looked after her boy till he had vanished out + of the alley. She was so fond of him, he knew it; yes, he knew all about + that tender love, which he so often rejected in a moment of churlish + impatience; but still he was sorry afterwards, even though he never showed + it. That prim, old-fashioned little woman, with her cramped ways, was his + mother; his father had been a drunkard and had been killed at his work: + that was his parentage; it was their fault that he led this + poverty-stricken existence. + </p> + <p> + He walked on, without looking up at all the swarming life around him, went + step by step over the slippery cobbles, straight to his work. His work: + why must he work, always that everlasting toiling, while others lived and + enjoyed their lives without doing anything? He too had once thought—but + it was only a dream—of becoming something; he had felt something + stirring just there, inside him, and that seed would have sprouted and + blossomed if they had only tended it; but they had ruthlessly repelled + him, had refused to take him up with them on the heights; and he had + remained in the mud, alone, all alone. + </p> + <p> + There it rose before him: a mighty edifice in building, with behind it a + radiant summer sun that blazed forth high above the framework of the roof + in the morning sky and made that giant structure stand black in its own + shadow. + </p> + <p> + That was his work. All that mass of bricks he had seen grow into the + mighty whole; and there it stood now, a huge block, with heavy, massive + outlines, contained—held upright, it seemed—by a jumble of + dirty-white stakes and posts, crossed and criss-crossed with planks. Out + of a dirty hodge-podge of crazy houses, walls black with smoke, little + inner rooms which for the first time saw the white light of day, with + ragged strips of wall-paper and whitewash among rotten beams and rafters + straight and askew, all of which his stubborn labour had made to fall and + disappear, and out of those deep-dug foundations, out of that drudging in + the dirty ground, those stout walls had grown stone by stone, had risen + high into the sky—oh, the hard work of it!—and, tapering by + degrees, had shot up to form that mighty building. Wall by wall, wrought + at and toiled at, held together by pillars running beside narrow pointed + windows to those peaked gable-steps, running into a forest of masts, of + slanting beams that had to bear the roof, the whole of that sprawling + monster had gradually acquired a sense and a meaning and become the + splendid masterpiece that now stood there, solidly fixed against the blue + sky like a magic crystallized phrase. + </p> + <p> + That beginning all over again, day after day, at the same work; all that + busy stir of men and stones, now high in the air, now deep below; that + incessant climbing up and down those swaying ladders: all this had made + such a deep impression on him, had implanted itself into him so firmly + that at the first sight of it he felt smitten with impotence, with a + mechanical discouragement that gripped his whole being and made him work + throughout the day as though urged by an all-ruling deity set there in the + symbolic shape of that giant colossus at which he toiled. It seemed to him + that he was an indispensable little part of that great building, a small + moving thing with but a tiny atom of intelligence—sometimes—and + fatally dragged along in that whirling circle, under the behest of the + masters, who knew their way through every stroke and line of the great + plan, who had all that great work in their heads and on paper and who + possessed the power to bring all that complicated machine into operation. + And he just went to work like a dog, set going by the mournful knocking of + the stone-chopper, the shrill screech of the toothless iron marble-saw and + all the banging and knocking and hewing up yonder at the top of things. He + took his wooden hod, filled it with bricks and slowly climbed the ladder. + He was once more the dismal noodle of last week, the hypnotized + bag-o’-nerves that let himself be swept along in the whirlwind of habit + and vexation, dazed by that awful hugeness which he was helping to + complete and driven on by the ever-pursuing pair of eyes of his strict + foreman. And his head ached so; and he felt so sick; and his legs bent + under the load. + </p> + <p> + On he had to go and on. His head no longer took part in the work; his legs + kept on going up and down the rungs with those bricks, those everlasting + bricks: he did not know how many, just hauled them up, without stopping. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to him sometimes that the whole mass of walls and scaffolding, + labourers and foremen made but a single being: a sort of fearsome deity, + something like an unwieldy monster with inhuman, cruel feelings, something + which had to be fed with all that workmen’s sweat; and all this feverish + activity seemed to him the whirling along of a crowd of unfortunates who + had stepped into the fatal circle marked out for them, never to leave it + again. Everything seemed so unsteady to-day: those walls on which he had + to walk tottered; and he took such a pleasure in looking, in looking for a + long time down below, yonder where the men and women were like ants and + the great blocks of freestone became little bricks. It gave him such a + delicious wriggling in the bowels, a tickling in his blood; and he felt + his hair tingling on his head. Was not this the way to obtain release from + that hard labour, to get out of that brain-racking circle? + </p> + <p> + Then he held on to a post until he recovered his senses; and he went down + again for more bricks. It came from all that beer. + </p> + <p> + Yesterday had been a holiday. The wooden framework of the roof was + finished; and they had nailed the May-bough to the top, the joyous emblem + of difficulties vanquished. It showed up grandly there, with its bright + green leaves so high in the air. The masters had granted the men a day off + and given them plenty of beer. All that warm day they had made merry, + drinking and singing and loafing about the streets like happy savages. He + too had revelled with the rest, had been overcome by the drink and joined + in everything, from the horseplay in the open air to the bestial + amusements in those dark holes where the populace seeks its pleasure, that + stimulant for the work of the morrow. Then that brutal drunkenness had + come, with the loss of all his senses, till he found himself, dog-tired, + sick and feverish, up in his garret under the tiles. + </p> + <p> + To-day the work was twice as irksome. That rising warmth which, in the + morning, while it is still cool, forebodes the stifling, paralysing heat + of the scorching noon-day, tortured his throat and his bowels; he couldn’t + go on. + </p> + <p> + “Slacker!” was the first word flung at his head. He stood on the high + gable-steps and set down his load of bricks. That “Slacker!” played about + in his head like the smarting pain of a lash. He stood looking aimlessly + into space, indifferent to all that moved and lived around him. A shudder + ran through his body. The wall tottered ... and he was so high up, all + alone, seen by nobody: such a small creature in that blue sky, in that + endless space. In a clear vision he saw his own figure in all its lean + wretchedness, cut out like a paper silhouette, standing out sharply + against the sky, such a miserable little object: two thin legs, like + laths, a little stomach, two little sticks of arms and that small, + everyday, vulgar head. Was that he, that tiny atom of this mighty, + colossal building, that ant on the back of this behemoth ... which had + only to move to shake him off, ever so low down! + </p> + <p> + Ah, here’s that delicious wriggling in the bowels again! He has looked + down. Once more. That’s capital: something like a feeling of wanting to + jump down, such an airy, irresponsible joy, like flying in a dense, blue + sky, falling very gently and slowly—oh, what fun!—and then + being rid of all one’s troubles!... And yet there was a certain fear about + it. He mustn’t look any more. Or just this once ... that was grand! Once + more that awful depth, with all those tiny figures, yawned below him; and + it was the little wall that kept him up there so high, only that little + wall.... One movement, the least little yielding, the least bending over: + oh, what bliss ... and how frightful!... He became drunk with delight, + filled with the pleasure of it; he gasped, his eyes became unseeing; it + was like being wafted along, a gentle flight through the air and ... he + fell. + </p> + <p> + Bumping against a scaffold, clutching with hands and feet; a breaking + plank, a ghastly yell ... and then a body with arms and legs outspread in + space, a thunderbolt ... a thud as of a bag of earth ... and there he lay, + stretched at full length, like a man asleep. That scream of distress, that + terrible shriek, that farewell cry of one who is going away for good had + sent something like an electric shock through all around; work ceased and + they scrambled down and stood in a great circle around that body ... + looking. And a great silence followed, that silence which is so heavy and + oppressive after the sudden stop of so much activity. People came rushing + up, pushing to get closer ... and to see. They tore the poor devil’s + clothes open to find out where he was hurt, others ran for help, while + fresh swarms of folk came crowding up and the silence died in an uproar of + questions and tramping and the wailing of women. He lay there, with his + peaceful face turned to one side, lay on his back, seemingly uninjured; a + few drops of blood trickled from his mouth. His eyes were closed like + those of a man asleep. + </p> + <p> + “Such a height to fall!... So young, only a boy!” + </p> + <p> + Others stood chattering loudly, indifferently, as though about an everyday + occurrence, or looked up at the wall and showed one another from where he + had tumbled down. + </p> + <p> + There was a sudden movement in the crowd; people jostled one another. + </p> + <p> + “His mother’s coming!” somebody whispered. + </p> + <p> + They pressed closer and closer to watch the effect upon her, the women + with an anguished consciousness of what she must be suffering, that + mother-pain which they understood so well. The men pushed to see what + happened, because everybody was looking. All eyes were fixed on the little + woman who came running along, with those elderly little hurried steps, + those two anxious eyes which showed all the dread of the tragedy they + suspected. The people made way respectfully, as before one who is + privileged to approach and look upon what is hers. Those who could not + move back she dragged away mercilessly, gripping them with her hooked + fingers, which she thrust out at every side in order to see closer. It was + her ... her ... her son lying there, her own son; and she must get to him. + </p> + <p> + She saw him. He lay there and he was dead, the son, the child whom she had + seen leaving that morning alive and well. She stood aghast, out of breath + after the great effort of hurrying, her throat pinched with distress and + sorrow and shock, her soul filled with all the pent-up tempest that was + seeking an outlet. Her flat chest heaved and all her thin, frail little + body quivered; her legs shook beneath her. Slowly and painfully the sobs + came welling up. + </p> + <p> + The people waited in silence, more or less disappointed, saddened by all + that silent grief. Her eyes, the eyes of a mother, stared at the dead + body; and he did not look at her and he slept on and ... and he was asleep + for ever, gone for ever: he would never see her again! This last cut into + her soul; a shrill scream came from her throat, she flung her lean brown + hands together high above her head, wrung the crooked, gnarled fingers + convulsively and then, with her fists clenched in her lap, sank impotently + to her knees, with her head against his. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s such a pity, oh, it’s such a pity!” she moaned; and the words + contained all the awful depth of her woe, all the concentrated sorrow. + “Oh, it’s such a pity, such a pity!” she kept on repeating, finding no + other words to express her grief and lending them power by force of + repetition. + </p> + <p> + He remained lying there ... and she remained kneeling; and all that crowd + of people stood silently looking on, startled and impressed by that + sacred, solemn mourning. And the impressive hush, the silence of all those + people, the desperate helplessness of those folk, she alone suffering and + crying and unable to help her child and the people unwilling to help him: + that impotence pierced her soul; and the patient suffering changed into a + frenzied madness, a raging fury. With a terrible scream, like that of a + goaded beast, a hoarse yell that came grating out of her parched throat, + she thrust her arms, stiff with pain, like two steel rods, under the arms + of that limp corpse and, with a superhuman effort, with Herculean strength + exalted by suffering, she lifted the corpse, pressed it to her body, + raised it with her outstretched arms and dragged it, with its legs + trailing behind it, hurrying along at a mad pace, with the one idea of + getting home with her child, her only child, away, far away from that + callous crowd which desecrated her sorrow: there she would weep, sob out + all her grief and find words, sweet words which must throb through her + child and wake him and bring him back to life! + </p> + <p> + All that packed crowd had first followed her with their eyes, struck by + the sudden outburst of that mad rage; and then they had gone after her, + inquisitively. And it did not last long before the police-constables—those + phlegmatic posts with which any outbreak of undue human emotion must + always in the end collide—stopped them; they pulled those bony arms + from round the corpse and took the little mother, now hanging slack and + limp, one on either side by the arm and led her away. The body was carried + to the mortuary. + </p> + <p> + With a resounding oath the foreman drove his folk back to work and set all + that rolling activity going once more. + </p> + <p> + The passers-by hastened away; and the saw screeched, the chisel tapped, + the hammer banged, the bricks were hauled up on high and the gorgeous + building, the pride of a metropolis, stood resplendent in the glaring + white mid-day sun, as if nothing had happened. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. WHITE LIFE + </h2> + <p> + Her life flowed on as a little brook flows under grass on a Sunday noon in + summer, flowed on in calm seclusion, far from the bustle of the crowd, + secretly, steadily, uninterrupted save by ever-recurring little incidents, + peacefully approaching old age. She sat in her little white room, behind + the muslin curtains, making lace. Her cottage stood a little way back from + the street, shining behind a neatly-raked flower-garden. + </p> + <p> + The door was always shut and the curtains carefully drawn. Inside, + everything was very clean: smooth, bare walls and the ceiling washed with + milk-white chalk through which shone a soft touch of blue; and this bright + cleanliness contrasted soberly with the things that hung on the wall. The + chairs and furniture stood placed with care, as though nailed to the + floor; over the mantel hung the copper Christ, a thin, elongated figure of + Our Lord, with its sharp projections which shone when the sun touched + them: a little figure which, so long dead, hung there so firmly nailed and + looked so calmly from out of the small dark shadow-lines of its face. + </p> + <p> + The stove stood freshly blackened, with the waved white sand on its + polished pipe.<a href="#linknote-10" name="linknoteref-10" + id="linknoteref-10"><small>10</small></a> Over the door of the bedroom + steps hung the glass case with the waxen image of Our Lady, a girlish + figure clad in broad white folds, with bright-red, cherry cheeks, smiling + sweetly upon a doll which she carried in her arms. On the other wall was a + glaring framed print, in which a Child Jesus romped with curly-headed + angels in a motley green wood, with behind it a sunny perspective gleaming + with paradisian delights. + </p> + <p> + From the ceiling, in a white cage, hung the canary, which hopped from one + perch to the other, all day long, without ever singing. On the + window-seat, behind the little curtains, blossomed tall geraniums and + phlox, which, through the mesh of the muslin curtains, sent a blissful + fragrance through the room. + </p> + <p> + Life went its monotonous gait, measured by the slow tick of the hanging + clock, that big, stupid, laughing face which so pitilessly turned its two + unequal fingers round and round. Outside, close by, went the steel blows + of the smith’s hammer or the biting file that grated against her wall. + </p> + <p> + The sun that laughed so pleasantly through the windows and came and put + all those things in a white gleaming light beamed right through into her + little white soul: it was yet like that of a child, had remained innocent, + never been soiled or troubled; and, now that the bad storm-time was over, + it lay still in the passionless restfulness of waning life, quite taken up + with all manner of harmless occupations, devotions and acquired ways of an + old, god-fearing woman-person. Her face, which was wreathed in a round + white goffered cap, had the smooth, yellow, waxen pallor of the statue of + Our Lady, in church, and her features the severe, sober kindliness of + nuns’. She was dressed in modest, stiffly-falling folds of unrumpled lilac + silk, like the queens in old prints. + </p> + <p> + She spent those long, quiet days at her lace-pillow. That was her only + amusement, her treasure: this half-rounded arch of smooth, blue paper on + the wooden pillow-stool, occupied by a swarm of copper pins, with + coloured-glass heads, and of finely-turned wooden bobbins, with slender + necks and notched bodies, hanging side by side from fine white threads or + heaped up behind a steel bodkin. All this array of pins, holes, drawers + and trays had for her its own form and meaning, a small world in which she + knew her way so well. Her deft white fingers knew how to throw, change, + catch and pick up those bobbins so nimbly, so swiftly; she stuck her pins, + which were to give the thread its lie and form, so accurately and surely; + and, under her hand, the lace grew slowly and imperceptibly into a light + thread network, grew with the leaves and flowers of her geraniums and + phlox and the silent course of time. + </p> + <p> + ‘Twas quite a feast when, in the evening, she wound off the ravelled end + and carefully examined the white web. She closely followed all the knots, + curves and twists of those transparent little veins; and ‘twas with regret + that she rolled up the lace again and put it away in the drawer. + </p> + <p> + When all her peaceful thoughts had been fully pondered, when all that life + of every day, all that even round of happenings, like little white flakes + floating in the sunny sky, had drifted by through the thought-chambers of + her soul and when the light began to fail out of doors and in, she took + her rosary and prayed, for hours on end, slowly telling the smooth beads + between her fingers until, when it grew quite dark, she started awake and + became aware that for some time she had been telling the strokes of the + smith’s hammer on the other side of the wall. Then she laid herself + between the white sheets and tried to sleep. + </p> + <p> + Two days ago the grid of her stove broke and today she had taken it to be + mended; she had been to the smith’s and now she could not get out of her + mind what she had seen there: a black cave, like an oven, down three + steps; a dark hole hung and filled on every side with black iron tools; + and, amid all this jumble, an anvil and, in the red glow from the dancing + light of the smithy fire, a small, stunted, black little fellow, hidden + out of knowledge in that gloom; a bent, thin little man wound in a + leathern apron and with a black face, from which a pair of good-humoured + eyes peered out at her, through the shining glasses of his copper-rimmed + spectacles, like two little lights in the dark. She had gone down those + three steps, looking round shyly, afraid of getting dirty; had explained + her business to that impish little chap; and had then hastily fled from + that hell. Now it seemed to her that those two eyes had looked at her so + kindly; and she wondered how any one could live in such a hole and be a + Christian creature ... and yet that smith looked as if he had a good + heart. + </p> + <p> + Next day, she was thinking again of the little man and his dark, haunted + hole; and she sniffed the scent of her geraniums with a new pleasure and + looked with more gladness at her trim little dwelling and her lace-pillow. + She now enjoyed, realized, with all the sensual luxury of her soul, that + peaceful life of hers, something like that of the yellow, waxen Virgin + high up there on the wall, under her glass shade. And yet she was sorry + for her good neighbour: it must be so dreary alone, amid all that dirt.... + She worked at her lace, prayed and tried to think of nothing more. + </p> + <p> + He brought the new grid home himself. At first, she was shy with the man: + she got up, went to the stove, turned back again and only now and then + dared look at the smith from under her eyes. He was wrapped up in his + work, stood bending over the stove, trying to fix the grid. Seen like that + in the light, the little chap looked quite different to her eyes: he was + no longer young, his breath came quickly; but in all that he did there was + something so friendly, so kindly, something almost well-mannered, that + went oddly with his dirty clothes and his black face. The little smith was + known in the village as a lively person, who led a lonely life, but who + was able also to divert a company: he knew his customers and knew how to + manage them all. Here he took good care not to dirty the floor: he spat + his tobacco-juice into the coal-box and touched nothing with his hands. + When at last the grid was fixed, he stayed talking a little: he spoke of + her nice little life among all those white things; paid her a compliment + on her pretty flowers and shining copper; and then came close to look at + her lace-pillow. Lastly, seeing that she was not at her ease, that she + answered his remarks so shortly and hesitatingly, he gave a push to his + cap, refused to say what she owed him and was gone with a skip and a jump. + </p> + <p> + One Sunday, after vespers, he came again, bowed politely, fetched a bit of + paper out of his waistcoat-pocket and sat down on a chair by the stove. + This visit annoyed her: with the quickness with which small-minded people + weigh and think over a matter, her eyes went to the window to see if + anybody had observed him come in and was likely to set evil tongues + a-clacking. It was almost bound to be so; and, to keep her honour safe, + she opened her door, mumbling something about “warm weather” and “the + tobacco-smoke which made her cough.” + </p> + <p> + She went to her room, fetched some money and paid the bill. The smith sat + where he was, knocked out his little stone pipe and put it in his inside + pocket; he did not look at his money and, in his hoarse little voice, + began to talk of quite common things: of wind and weather and the current + news of the village; always chatting in the same tone, a jumble of long, + breathless statements. From this he went on to his dreary, lonely life, + the monotonous quiet of it and the danger of thieves, sickness and sudden + death. She said not a word, but, against the bright window-curtains, the + sharp, heavy profile of her face, together with the flutes of her white + cap, went up and down in a continual nodding assent to everything he said. + At the end, she took pleasure in hearing him talk, nor now looked upon + that clean-washed face of his as at all so ugly. It even did her good to + see some one sitting there who came to enliven the monotony of that long + Sunday evening. By her leave, he had lighted a fresh pipe; and she now sat + sniffing up that unaccustomed smell, which rose in little puffs from + behind the stove and floated round the room, filling it with long rows of + blue curls. ‘Twas as if she were overcome by that quite new smell of + tobacco and she felt inclined to sleep; she stood up, to get rid of that + slackness, shut the front-door and, without thinking what she was doing, + asked if he would have some coffee. He nodded, gladly. + </p> + <p> + She put the kettle on and got the coffee-pot ready, fetched out her best + cups and spoons and the white sugar. When the steam came rushing from the + spout, she poured water on the coffee and they sat down, one on each side + of the table, to sip the savoury drink in tiny draughts. ‘Twas long since + she had felt so comfortable and for the first time she thought with + dislike of her lonely life. ‘Twas late when he went home; she came with + him to the door ... and saw black figures that strolled past in the street + and perhaps had seen him leave. She had bad dreams all night: the people + pointed their fingers at her and slanderous tongues spread ugly things + about her. The whole of the next day her thoughts were in the smithy; she + swept the pavement more carefully and farther than usual, went now and + then and looked out of window; and her little curtains were left open with + a split in the middle. Yesterday, she had forgotten to give the canary + fresh water to drink. The people looked at her in the street; two or three + god-fearing gossips had let her walk home alone. This gave her great pain; + ‘twas as though a heavy load were weighing day and night on her breast; + and yet she was not sorry for what had happened. All these trifles could + not make her forget her content. She said her prayers and performed her + little duties with as much care as before and lived on, alone. + </p> + <p> + On Sunday, she went to church very early and prayed long: it did her so + much good, that delightful whispering with God, that sweet kind Lord Who + listened to her so patiently and always sent her away with fresh courage, + strengthened to walk on bravely along life’s irksome way. Sometimes she + was frightened at her behaviour! She was gnawed by a reproachful thought: + that she had left the straight path, that she no longer lived for God + alone, that she was forgetting her dear saints and busy with sinful + thoughts. And yet, when she carefully considered everything, nothing had + happened that seemed to her blameworthy; all that change in her life had + come as of itself and in spite of herself; and really, after all, there + was no harm in it. She prayed for that good man, who certainly needed her + spiritual aid: he went so seldom to church and lived in such a dreary + black hole. Her prayers and interest would for sure bring him to a better + frame of mind. And yet she must watch, keep strong, avoid the dangers: her + honour was a tender thing; and people were wicked. She stayed longer than + usual in the confessional and offered special prayers to every saint in + the church. + </p> + <p> + When she was back at home, she began her little Sunday duties: the + lace-pillow was put away that day and she did nothing but arrange things, + put things in their places, gather a fresh nosegay for the porcelain vase + before Our Lady’s statue and see to her cooking. She picked the withered + leaves from the geraniums, bound the branches of the phlox to the trellis + and gave them fresh water from a little flowered can. She was specially + fond of her little pot of musk: it stood on the window-seat, opposite her + chair, carefully set in a rush cage stuck into the earth and fastened at + the top with a thread. Sometimes she took it on her lap, bent her face + over it and sniffed the pleasant smell in long draughts, until she was + almost drunk with it. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon, she sat down at the window and read her Thomas à Kempis. + Then all was quite still: no hammering behind the wall, no boys in the + street, only the soft tapping of the canary in his food-trough and the + tick of the pendulum; everything was quiet as though in an enchanted + sleep. The sun glowed through the geranium-leaves and cast on the + red-tiled floor a broad, round shadow which took the whole afternoon to + creep from the legs of the stove to the front-door. + </p> + <p> + The flies buzzed round on the rafters of the ceiling or ran along the + cracks of the white-scoured table. Her thoughts wandered wearily and + lazily through the wise maxims of her book and she sometimes sat peering + at the funny shape of a coloured initial which, after long looking, became + such a silly figure, one that no longer looked in the least like a letter, + but was rather something in the form of a vice.... The lines of print ran + into one another, the maxims said all sorts of foolish things, her eyes + closed, her head nodded and she sank, with all those peaceful things, into + perfect rest. + </p> + <p> + After dinner, the smith had had a sleep; then he washed his face, put on + his best clothes and went past her window to vespers. In the evening, she + saw him again when he went to the customers for a pot of beer: this time + he gave her a friendly nod. + </p> + <p> + For her, Sunday passed like all the other days; she prayed longer and + closed her shutter earlier for fear of the drunkards. After saying a long + row of graces which she knew by heart, she went to her bedroom. In the + stuffy air of that closed upper chamber, she lay thinking. She was not + sleepy and it was nice, in the evening stillness, covered in her white + sheets, to lie with her eyes looking through the split in the white + curtains at the moon which hung shining outside. + </p> + <p> + Now she gave free scope to her thoughts, until all of that had again been + pondered round and pondered out. Then it became so funny to her: ‘twas as + if she were long dead now and floating in a pale and scented air in the + company of sweet saints and angels. But it was oh, so hazy and indistinct! + It always escaped her when she wanted to enjoy it more closely and to give + the thing a name. + </p> + <p> + It was night when the smith came home, a little tipsy, deceived by his + great thirst and the double effect of the beer in that warm weather. He + was very cheery, without really knowing why; something like a soft buzzing + fire ran through all his body and made him tingle with happiness. They had + chaffed him that evening about the old maid next door and he now felt + inclined just to tell her about it. + </p> + <p> + Wasn’t it a shame for two people to lie here so quietly and drearily, + parted by a bit of a wall, when they could have been amusing each + other?... His white neighbour was sure to be asleep by now ... and, if he + only dared ... and, quicker indeed than he intended, he gave three little + taps on the wall and lay listening, all agog.... Three like little taps + answered! This was so unexpected that at first he sat wondering whether he + could believe his ears; then he began to swim and sprawl in his bed, bit + his teeth so as not to shout out his overflowing delight and started + banging on the wall, this time with his fists. It was too late to-night: + to-morrow, he would go to her and ask her ... and then they would both ... + and he would no longer be alone, always alone, and would have some one to + care for him, to look after him.... In all this happiness he drowsed off + gently, rocked in another world, like a little wax doll in a pale-blue + paper box. + </p> + <p> + She had started out of her sleep at those three taps and had answered, not + knowing why; then she had got frightened at that wild man behind her wall, + had jumped out of bed and struck a light and sat waiting until the noise + stopped; then she commended her soul into the Lord’s hands and fell softly + asleep. + </p> + <p> + The first time that he went to see her, he found the door shut. Once, when + he met her in the street, she kept her eyes carefully cast down and passed + him without a sign of greeting. Her curtains remained drawn and she never + came to the door now. He went home and sat musing on his anvil. All his + plan was blown to bits; he found himself sadly duped and turned red with + anger when folk spoke of his dear neighbour. He hammered and filed from + morning till night; and she must now be making her lace. + </p> + <p> + Time pushed past, divided into even days, along a smooth road that led + down the mountain-slope of summer. The leaves fell from the geraniums and + the phlox. The neatly-cut-out paper fly-catcher was put away and the lamp + hung up in its place. With the sad, short days came the grey, misty sky, + the dismal, dripping rain and the white snow. The village lay dead for + half the day, dark, with here and there a little ray of light gleaming + through the shutters. + </p> + <p> + And it became gradually drearier for her: that calm rest, in which she had + once found such a pure delight, was now a heavy weariness. She longed for + change, for something different which she could not justly define, or else + to live again as before, alone and with nothing but herself. She had + struggled and fought to rid herself of that obsession, but it followed her + everywhere: she saw him go by, even when her eyes were fixed on the + lace-pillow, the stove, or the chair on which he had sat; and there was + that constant hammering and scratching behind her wall: everywhere she saw + those two kind eyes behind the copper rims of his spectacles; and she + sometimes caught herself contentedly tracing the good-natured features of + his little black face. She had prayed more than ever and evoked quite new + saints; and now she let herself drift along at God’s pleasure, no longer + even thinking of her weakness. Perhaps she was the instrument of a Blessed + Providence, destined blindly to do good. + </p> + <p> + The little curtains had long been pushed apart again; and, each time that + she heard approaching footsteps, her heart went beating and her eyes + looked eagerly to see if by chance ... it was not he. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, an anxious fluttering drove her to the front-door, where she + stood looking round for a while and then, ashamed of herself, went indoors + again. Quite against her habit, she now made use of her glass: in the + middle of her work, she went to see if the two glossy black tresses lay + neatly on her forehead and if the ribbons of her cap were properly tied + and fastened. She put on her clothes more carefully and folded and + refolded her kerchief till it enclosed her body in a pretty shape. From + before the moment of starting for church, her heart began to beat; she + shut her garden-gate more noisily and stepped loudly along the pavement + until she came to the smith’s first window, firmly resolved this time at + least to look up and say good-morning; but she always met some one who + noticed her; and she was in church by the time that, with a sigh, she had + put off her intention until next day. + </p> + <p> + At night, in bed, she lay thinking over all these little events; and it + was a glad day or a sad day for her according as she had more or less + often caught sight of the little smith. + </p> + <p> + One evening, after benediction, she saw him come walking under the trees + of the churchyard. Not a soul saw them. Now she really must have courage; + but again the blood came to her throat and she felt that once again it + would lead to nothing. He had just looked round before she came up to him + and then he sat down on the stone step before the Calvary, as though he + wanted to chat with her there at his ease: + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, Sofie,” he said, with a smile. “Have you been to say your + prayers. Don’t you ever say a little one for me? I want it so badly: my + soul’s as black as my apron and I can’t even read a prayer-book....” + </p> + <p> + He made all this speech in a soft, fondling little tone and then sat + smirking to see what she would say. There was nothing that she longed for + more than to save his soul: + </p> + <p> + “Can you say the Rosary?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I haven’t one.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you like me to give you one?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, rather ... if you’ll be so good!” + </p> + <p> + She bent close to him and whispered in his ear: + </p> + <p> + “Come and fetch it, to-morrow evening, when it’s dark.” + </p> + <p> + They walked together through the peaceful twilit churchyard and, with a + cordial “Good-evening,” went home well pleased with themselves. + </p> + <p> + For her it was an endless day; all the time she stood considering what she + should say to him. He was coming and would sit smoking there again behind + the stove. Already she heard his pleasant, whispering talk and saw his + kind, upturned glance. She moved about restlessly to set everything in + order. The shutters were closed quite early and the lamp burning. Now she + went and had one more look outside and it was pitch-dark, with never a + moon. On the stroke of eight, the door opened: he was there, with his + Sunday jacket on, his red scarf and his leather shoes. She was most + friendly, but did not at first know how to begin the conversation. + </p> + <p> + He lit his pipe and snuffled some news of the village and of people who + were married, sick or dead. She made coffee, turned up the lamp and opened + her bedroom door to give an outlet to the tobacco-smoke. Straight opposite + him, deep in the half-darkness, he saw all that show of white: against the + wall stood the bed, under a white canopy of curtains hanging in folds, set + off with a white ball-fringe; also a praying-desk with velvet cushions, + above which was an image of the Sacred Heart, with gold flowers, and, + hanging from a brass chain, a perpetual light glimmering in a little red + glass; and, all around, on the white walls, little statues and pictures, + like a devout little tabernacle ashine with cleanliness. They drank their + fragrant cup of coffee and nibbled lumps of white sugar. + </p> + <p> + “And my rosary?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She fetched it out of the drawer of her lace pillow and came and sat close + to him to teach him how to say it: + </p> + <p> + “Here, at the little cross, the I Believe in God the Father; then, at each + big bead, an Our Father; and, at the little ones, a Hail Mary.” + </p> + <p> + He sat with his legs drawn under his chair, with one hand at his chin, + listening good-humouredly and, with a smile, repeating all she taught him. + Her eyes shone with happiness. Now the talk went easily on church matters + and all the things of her pious little life; she showed him the pictures + in her prayer-book, explained all the attributes of the saints and told + long stories of their lives and martyrdoms. + </p> + <p> + He, also, told her of his youth, when he made his first communion and was + the best little man in the whole village. It was striking ten when he went + home; and he had promised to come and listen to her again. + </p> + <p> + Every evening, when it grew dark, he sat peeping to see if there was no + one in the street and then cautiously crept in through her gate. He + brought her old books from his loft; and, while he smoked his pipe, she + lit the candle before the statue of Our Lady and started talking, very + gently, so as not to be heard outside. She read whole chapters out of + Thomas à Kempis and <i>The Pious Pilgrim</i>, <i>The Dove amongst the + Rocks</i>, <i>The Spiritual Bridegroom</i>, or <i>The Sacred Meditations</i>. + They sat there for hours at a time gazing at each other and smiling. When + it grew late, she went and looked outside and, when the moment was + favourable, she carefully let him out. She thanked Our Lord for making her + so happy and often prayed that it might last and she win the smith’s soul + for Heaven and that their doing might all the same be kept hidden from + wicked people. + </p> + <p> + St. Eloi’s Day is the holiday of smiths and husbandmen. In the morning, + the farmers all went together to mass and thence, after a glass, to settle + their yearly reckoning at the smith’s. At noon there was a big dinner at + the inn. They ate much and drank more; and, from afternoon till late in + the evening, the smiths’ men and the peasants loafed along the streets and + sang ribald songs. The steadiest of them walked about talking, from one + tavern to the other. They were nearly all drunk. She sat peeping at it + from behind her curtain and was vexed at all this wantonness and rather + glad that she had not yet seen “him” anywhere. She said her evening + prayers and was just going to bed when she heard the door open and the + smith stepped in. + </p> + <p> + He carried his pipe upside down in his mouth, his eyes looked wild and his + speech was incoherent. She had never seen him like that; and she was + frightened at his strange gestures. She wanted him to sit down, but he + came up to her with his arms open, as if to catch hold of her. She stepped + back in affright, pushed him away from her. His breath stank of drink and + his thin legs tottered under him. She began to beseech him, that it was + late and that he should go home and that people would know.... But his + eyes looked at her roguishly and, with bent head and outstretched arms, he + kept on trying to come closer. Filled with dread, she wavered away behind + the tables and chairs, whimpering: + </p> + <p> + “If you please, if you please, Sander, go home; you frighten me!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, he nipped out the flame of the lamp with his fingers. It was + quite dark. + </p> + <p> + “Sander! Sander! What do you want? Heavens! He’s drunk! And I’m here all + alone! Lord God, St. Catherine, help!” + </p> + <p> + He still spoke not a word, but uttered ugly growls; and she heard his + hands rub and grope along the wall, against herself. She pulled open the + door of her bedroom and fled up the stairs and fell in a heap in the + corner beside her bed. There she sat waiting, out of breath.... Yes, his + heavy shoes had found the steps; and, still growling, he entered the room. + He felt the bed, lay down flat on his stomach and reached out with his + arms; then he found her sitting sighing. She felt those two weedy arms + grasp her and was caught in them as in an iron band. She moaned and + screamed for help. His dirty, slimy mouth pressed her lips ... and then + she felt herself sink away, out of the world. The people who heard the + cries came to see what was the matter. They hauled the drunkard outside + and laid her on the bed. When they saw that she was better, they went away + again. + </p> + <p> + She lay stretched out slackly in the dark. First, still quite overcome, as + though drunk with sleep, she slowly, through that dim whirl of stormy + thoughts, came to understand what had happened: all her misfortune, which + yawned before her like a deep, black well. She was ashamed, disgusted with + herself and felt a great aversion, a loathing for all the world: people + were a pack of lustful pigs.... And he too: that was over now, suddenly + over, for good and all.... And he ... no, he had deceived her, grievously + defiled her. And now to have to go on living like that! It was done past + recall: she was punished for her trustfulness ... and those same kind eyes + and that friendly face; only yesterday, they had said their evening + prayers together and so devoutly! Oh, ‘twas such a pity! And what would + people say?... And the priest?... And Our Lord and all His dear saints?... + She fell into ever-deepening despair and saw never a way out. Very far + away shone her pure little life of former days, her white and peaceful + little soul floating in that unruffled blue sanctity, in that fragrant + twilight of evening after evening ... and all this he had now crushed in + one second and stamped to pieces. And he was dead to her, he with whom she + had dreamed so sweetly and lived in glad expectation. In her wretchedness, + she was left stark alone, abandoned like a poor babe in the snow. She + plunged her face into the white sheets and cried. She would have liked to + pine away there, in that kindly darkness, and never, never to see daylight + again. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. THE END + </h2> + <p> + Zeen pulled up his bent back, wiped the sweat from his forehead with his + bare arm and drew a short breath. + </p> + <p> + Zalia, with her head close to the ground, went on binding her sheaves. + </p> + <p> + The sun was blazing. + </p> + <p> + After a while, Zeen took up his sickle again and went on cutting down the + corn. With short, even strokes, with a swing of his arm, the sickle rose + and, with a “d-zin-n-n” fell at the foot of the cornstalks and brought + them down in great armfuls. Then they were hooked away and dragged back in + little even heaps, ready to be bound up. + </p> + <p> + It did not last long: he stopped again, looked round over all that power + of corn which still had to be cut and beyond, over that swarming plain, + which lay scorching, so hugely far, under that merciless sun. He saw Zalia + look askant because he did not go on working and, to account for his + resting, drew his whetstone from his trouser-pocket and began slowly to + sharpen the sickle. + </p> + <p> + “Zalia, it’s so hot.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it’s that,” said Zalia. + </p> + <p> + He worked on again, but slowly, very slackly. + </p> + <p> + The sweat ran in great drops down his body; and sometimes he felt as if he + would tumble head foremost into the corn. Zalia heard his breath come + short and fast; she looked at him and asked what was the matter. His arms + dropped feebly to his sides; and the hook and sickle fell from his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Zalia, I don’t know ... but something’s catching my breath like; and my + eyes are dim....” + </p> + <p> + “It’s the heat, Zeen, it’ll wear off. Take a pull.” + </p> + <p> + She fetched the bottle of gin from the grass edge of the field, poured a + sip down his throat and stood looking to see how it worked: + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + Zeen did not answer, but stood there shivering and staring, with his eyes + fixed on a bluebonnet in the cut corn. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, Zeen, get it done! Have just another try: it’ll get cooler + directly and we’ll be finished before dark.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Zalia, it’s so awfully hot here and it’ll be long before it’s + evening!” + </p> + <p> + “But, Zeen, what do you feel?” + </p> + <p> + Zeen made no movement. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ill?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am, Zalia. No, not ill, but I feel so queer and I think I ought to + go home.” + </p> + <p> + Zalia did not know what to do: she was frightened and did not understand + his funny talk. + </p> + <p> + “If you’re ill ... if you can’t go on, you’d better get home quick: you’re + standing there like a booby.” + </p> + <p> + Zeen left his sickle on the ground and went straight off the field. She + saw him go slowly, the poor old soul, lurching like a drunken man, and + disappear behind the trees. Then she took her straw-band and bundled up + all the little heaps of corn, one after the other, and bound them into + sheaves. She next took the sickle and the hook and just went cutting away + like a man: stubbornly, steadily, with a frenzied determination to get it + done. The more the corn fell, the quicker she made the sickle whizz. + </p> + <p> + The sweat ran down her face; now and then, she jogged back the straw hat + from over her eyes to see how much was left standing and then went on + cutting, on and on. She panted in the doing of it.... She was there alone, + on that outstretched field, in that heat which weighed upon her like a + heavy load; it was stifling. She heard no sound besides the swish of her + steel and the rustling of the falling corn. + </p> + <p> + When at last she could go on no longer, she took a sip at the bottle and + got new strength. + </p> + <p> + The sun was low in the sky when she stood there alone on the smooth field, + with all the corn lying flat at her feet. Then she started binding. + </p> + <p> + The air grew cooler. When the last sheaf was fastened in its straw-band + and they now stood set up in heavy stooks, like black giants in straight + rows, it began to grow dark. She wiped the sweat from her face, slipped on + her blue striped jacket, put the bottle in her hat, took the sickle and + hook on her shoulder and, before going, stood for a while looking at her + work. She could now see so very far across that close-shorn plain; she + stood there so alone, so tall in that stubble-field, everything lay so + flat and, far away over there, the trees stood black and that mill and the + fellow walking there: all as though drawn with ink on the sky. It seemed + to her as if the summer was now past and that heavy sultriness was a last + cramped sigh before the coming of the short days and the cold. + </p> + <p> + She went home. Zeen was ill and it was so strange to be going back without + him. It was all so dreary, so dim and deadly, so awful. Along the edge of + the deep sunken path the grasshoppers chirped here and there, all around + her: an endless chirping on every side, all over the grass and the field; + and it went like a gentle woof of voices softly singing. This singing at + last began to chatter in her ears and it became a whining rustle, a + deafening tumult and a painful laughter. From behind the pollard her cat + jumped on to the path: it had come to the field to meet her and, purring + cosily, was now arching its back and loitering between Zalia’s legs until + she stroked it; then it ran home before her with great bounds. The goat, + hearing steps approach, put its head over the stable-door and began to + bleat. + </p> + <p> + The house-door was open; as she went in, Zalia saw not a thing before her + eyes, but she heard something creaking on the floor. It was Zeen, trying + to scramble to his feet when he heard her come in. + </p> + <p> + “Zeen!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” moaned Zeen. + </p> + <p> + “How are you? No better yet? Where are you?... Why are you lying flat on + the floor like this?” + </p> + <p> + “Zalia, I’m so ill ... my stomach and....” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve never been ill yet, Zeen! It won’t be anything this time.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m ill now, Zalia.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait, I’ll get a light. Why aren’t you in bed?” + </p> + <p> + “In bed, in bed ... then it’ll be for good, Zalia; I’m afraid of my bed.” + </p> + <p> + She felt along the ceiling for the lamp, then in the corner of the hearth + for the tinder-box; she struck fire and lit up. + </p> + <p> + Zeen looked pale, yellow, deathlike. Zalia was startled by it, but, to + comfort him: + </p> + <p> + “It’ll be nothing, Zeen,” she said. “I’ll give you a little Haarlem oil.” + </p> + <p> + She pulled him on to a chair, fetched the little bottle, put a few drops + into a bowl of milk and poured it down his throat. + </p> + <p> + “Is it doing you good?” + </p> + <p> + And Zeen, to say something, said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is, Zalia, but I’d like to go to sleep, I’m feeling cold now and + I’ve got needles sticking into my side ... here, see?” + </p> + <p> + And he pressed both his hands on the place. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you’re better in bed; it’ll be gone in the morning and we’ll fetch + in the corn.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it cut?” + </p> + <p> + “All done and stooked; if it keeps fine to-morrow, we’ll get it all into + the barn.” + </p> + <p> + Zalia lifted him under his armpits and they crawled on like that into the + other room, where the loom stood with the bed behind it. She helped him + take off his jacket and trousers and put him to bed, tucked him nicely + under the blanket and put his night-cap on his head. + </p> + <p> + Then she went and lit the fire in the hearth, hung up the pot with the + goat’s food, washed the potatoes and sat down to peel them for supper. + </p> + <p> + She had not peeled three, when she heard Zeen bringing up. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the oil, it’ll do him good,” she thought and, fetching a can of + water from outside, gave him a bowl to drink. + </p> + <p> + Then she went back to her peeling. A bit later, she sat thinking of other + remedies—limeflowers, sunflower-seeds, pearl barley, flowers of + sulphur—when suddenly she saw Mite Kornelje go by. She ran out and + called: + </p> + <p> + “Mite!” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Zalia?” + </p> + <p> + “Mite, Zeen is ill.” + </p> + <p> + “What, ill? All at once?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, all of a sudden, cutting the corn in the field.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he bad?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, I’ve given him some Haarlem oil, he’s been sick; he’s + complaining of pains in his side and in his stomach; he’s very pale: you + wouldn’t know him.” + </p> + <p> + They went indoors. Zalia took the lamp and both passed in, between the + loom and the wall by Zeen’s bed. + </p> + <p> + He lay staring at the ceiling and catching his breath. Mite stood looking + at him. + </p> + <p> + “You must give him some English salt,<a href="#linknote-11" + name="linknoteref-11" id="linknoteref-11"><small>11</small></a> Zalia.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mite, I never thought of that; yes, he must have some English salt.” + </p> + <p> + And she climbed on to a chair and took from the plank above the bed a + dusty calabash full of little paper bags and packets. + </p> + <p> + She opened them one by one and found canary-seed, blacklead, washing-blue, + powdered cloves, cinnamon, sugar-candy, burnt-ash ... but no English salt. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll run home and fetch some, Zalia.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mite, do.” + </p> + <p> + And Mite went off. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Zeen, no better yet?” + </p> + <p> + Zeen did not answer. She took a pail of water and a cloth, cleaned away + the mess from beside the bed and then went back to peel her potatoes. + </p> + <p> + Mite came back with the English salt. Treze Wizeur and Stanse Zegers, who + had heard the news, also came to see how Zeen was getting on. Mite stirred + a handful of the salt in a bowl of water and they all four went to the + sick man’s bed. Zeen swallowed the draught without blinking. Mite knew of + other remedies, Stanse knew of some too and Treze of many more: they asked + Zeen questions and babbled to him, made him put out his tongue and felt + his pulse, cried out at his gasping for breath and his pale colour and his + dilated pupils and his burning fever. Zeen did not stir and lay looking at + the ceiling. When he was tired of the noise, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Leave me alone.” + </p> + <p> + And he turned his face to the wall. + </p> + <p> + Then they all went back to the kitchen. The goat’s food was done. Zalia + hung the kettle with water on the hook and made coffee; and the four women + sat round the table telling one another stories of illness. In the other + room there was no sound. + </p> + <p> + A bit later, Mite’s little girl came to see where mother was all this + time. She was given a lump of sugar and sat down by her mother. + </p> + <p> + “Zalia, have you only one lamp?” asked Treze. + </p> + <p> + “That’s all, Treze, but I have the candle.” + </p> + <p> + “What candle?” + </p> + <p> + “The blessed candle.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ve not come to that yet: it’s only that Zeen has to lie in the dark + like this and we have to go to and fro with the lamp to look at him.” + </p> + <p> + “Zeen would rather lie in the dark.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you what: Fietje shall run home and fetch something, won’t you, + Fietje? And say that mother is going to stay here because Zeen is dying.” + </p> + <p> + Fietje went off. The coffee was ready and when they had gulped down their + first bowl, they went to have another look in the room where the sick man + lay. + </p> + <p> + Zeen was worse. + </p> + <p> + “We must sit up with him,” said Stanse. + </p> + <p> + “For sure,” said Treze. “I’ll go and tell my man: I’ll be back at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell Free as you’re passing that I’m staying here too,” said Stanse. + </p> + <p> + “We must eat, for all that,” said Zalia; and she hung the potatoes over + the fire. + </p> + <p> + Then she went to milk the goat and take it its food. It was bright as day + outside and quiet, so very quiet, with still some of the heat of the sun + lingering in the air, which weighed sultrily. She crept into the dark + goat-house, put down the pot with the food and started milking. + </p> + <p> + “Betje, Betje, Zeen is so ill; Zeen may be dying, Betje!” + </p> + <p> + She always clacked to her goat like that. Two streams of milk came + clattering in turns into the little pail. + </p> + <p> + People came: Treze and Mite’s little girl, with a lantern, and Barbara + Dekkers, who had also come to have a look. + </p> + <p> + “I’m here,” said Zalia, “I’ve done, I’m coming at once.” + </p> + <p> + They stood talking a bit outside in the moonlight and then went in. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps my man’ll come on,” said Treze. “A man is better than three women + in illness; and Virginie’s coming too: I’ve been to tell her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said Barbara, “who’d ever have thought it of Zeen!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, friends, and never been ill in his life; and he turned seventy.” + </p> + <p> + Stanse mashed the potatoes; Zalia poured a drain of milk over them and + hung them over the fire again. + </p> + <p> + “Have you all had your suppers?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Treze and Barbara and Mite. + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t,” said Stanse. + </p> + <p> + Zalia turned the steaming potato-mash into an earthen porringer and she + and Stanse sat down to it. The others drank a fresh bowl of coffee. + </p> + <p> + They were silent. + </p> + <p> + The door opened and from behind the screen came a great big fellow with a + black beard: + </p> + <p> + “What’s up here? A whole gathering of people: is it harvest-treat to-day, + Zalia? Why, here’s Barbara and Mite and....” + </p> + <p> + “Warten, Zeen is ill.” + </p> + <p> + “Zeen?... Ill?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ill, man, and we’re sitting up.” + </p> + <p> + Warten opened wide eyes, flung the box which he carried over his shoulder + by a leather strap to the ground and sat down on it: + </p> + <p> + “Ha! So Zeen’s ill... he’s not one of the youngest either.” + </p> + <p> + “Seventy-five.” + </p> + <p> + They were silent. The womenfolk drank their coffee. Warten fished out a + pipe and tobacco from under his blue smock and sat looking at the rings of + smoke that wound up to the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps I’ve come at the right time, if that’s so.” + </p> + <p> + “You can help sit up.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you had your supper, Warten?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Zalia, at the farm.” + </p> + <p> + “And how’s trade?” asked Stanse. + </p> + <p> + “Quietly, old girl.” + </p> + <p> + They heard a moaning in the other room. Barbara lit the lantern and all + went to look. Warten stayed behind, smoking. + </p> + <p> + Zeen lay there, on a poverty-stricken little bed, low down near the + ground, behind the loom, huddled deep on his bolster under a dirty + blanket: a thin little black chap, leaning against a pillow in the dancing + twilight of the lantern. His eyes were closed and his bony face + half-hidden in the blue night-cap. His breath rustled; and each puff from + his hoarse throat, blowing out the thin flesh of his cheeks, escaped + through a little opening on one side of his sunken lips, which each time + opened and shut. + </p> + <p> + “Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!” cried Barbara. + </p> + <p> + “That’s bad, that’s bad,” said Stanse and shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “His eyes are shut and yet he’s not asleep!” + </p> + <p> + “Zeen! Zeen!” cried Mite and she pushed him back by his forehead to make + him look up. “Zeen! Zeen! It’s I: don’t you know Mite?” + </p> + <p> + “Oof!” sighed Zeen; and his head dropped down again without his eyes + opening. + </p> + <p> + “He’s got the fever,” said Barbara. “Just feel how his forehead’s burning + and he’s as hot as fire.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t you poulticed him?” asked Stanse. “He wants poultices on his + feet: mustard.” + </p> + <p> + “We haven’t any mustard and it’s far to the village.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he must have a bran bath, Zalia. Stanse, put on the kettle.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any bran, Zalia?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not ready; but there’s maize.” + </p> + <p> + “And a sieve?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there’s a sieve.” + </p> + <p> + “Hi, Warten, come and sift!” + </p> + <p> + Warten came in: + </p> + <p> + “Zeen, how are you, my boy? Oh, how thin he is! And his breath ... it’s + spluttering, that’s bad. He’ll go off quickly, Barbara, it seems to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to-night,” said Treze. + </p> + <p> + “Warten, go to the loft, take the lamp and sift out a handful of maize; + Zeen must have a bran bath at once.” + </p> + <p> + Warten went up the stair. After a while, they heard above their heads the + regular, jogging drag of the sieve over the boarded ceiling and the fine + meal-dust snowed down through the cracks, whirling round the lamp, and + fell on Zeen’s bed and on the women standing round. + </p> + <p> + Zeen nodded his head. They held a bowl of milk to his mouth; two little + white streaks ran down from the corners of his mouth into his + shirt-collar. + </p> + <p> + The sieve went on dragging. The women looked at Zeen, then at one another + and then at the lantern. In the kitchen, the kettle sang drearily.... + </p> + <p> + Warten came down from the loft with half a pailful of bran. Barbara poured + the steaming water on it and flung in a handful of salt. + </p> + <p> + They took the clothes off the bed and pulled his feet into the bran-water. + Zeen groaned; he opened his eyes wide and looked round wildly at all those + people. + </p> + <p> + He hung there for a very long time, with his lean black legs out of the + bed and the bony knees and shrunk thighs in the insipid, sickly-smelling + steam of the bran-water. Then they lifted him out and stuck his wet feet + under the bedclothes again. Zeen did not stir, but just lay with the + rattle in his throat. + </p> + <p> + “What a sad sick man,” said Stanse, softly. + </p> + <p> + Mite wanted to give him some food, eggs: it might be faintness. + </p> + <p> + Treze wanted to bring him round with gin: her husband had once.... + </p> + <p> + “Is there any, for the night?...” asked Stanse. + </p> + <p> + “There’s a whole bottle over there, in the cupboard.” + </p> + <p> + Zeen opened his eyes—two green, glazed eyes, which no longer saw + things—and wriggled his arms from under the clothes: + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you make the goat stop bleating?” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + They looked at one another. + </p> + <p> + “Zalia, why won’t you speak to me?... And what are all these people doing + here?... I don’t want any one to help me die!... I and Zalia.... I and + Zalia.... Look, how beautiful! Zalia, the procession’s going up the wall + there.... Why don’t you look?... It’s so beautiful!... And I, I’m the only + ugly one in it....” + </p> + <p> + “He’s wandering,” whispered Treze. + </p> + <p> + “And what’s that chap doing here, Zalia?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s I, Zeen, I: Warten the spectacle-man.” + </p> + <p> + His eyes fell to again and his cheeks again blew the breath through the + little slit of his mouth. It rattled; and the fever rose. + </p> + <p> + “It’ll be to-night,” said Treze. + </p> + <p> + “Where can Virginie be? She’ll come too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Virginie is better than three doctors or a priest either,” thought Mite. + </p> + <p> + “Zalia, I think I’d get out the candle.” + </p> + <p> + Zalia went to the chest and got out the candle. + </p> + <p> + “Mother, I’m frightened,” whined Fietje. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn’t be frightened of dead people, child; you must get used to + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any holy water, Zalia?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, Barbara: it’s in the little pot over the bed!” + </p> + <p> + “And blessed palm?” + </p> + <p> + “Behind the crucifix.” + </p> + <p> + There was a creaking in the kitchen and Virginie appeared past the loom: a + little old woman huddled in her hooded cloak; in one hand she carried a + little lantern and in the other a big prayer-book. She came quietly up to + the bed, looked at Zeen for some time, felt his pulse and then, looking + up, said, very quietly: + </p> + <p> + “Zeen’s going.... Has the priest been?” + </p> + <p> + “The priest?... It’s so far and so late and the poor soul’s so old....” + </p> + <p> + “What have you given him?” + </p> + <p> + “Haarlem oil, English salt....” + </p> + <p> + “And we put his feet in bran water.” + </p> + <p> + Virginie stood thinking. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any linseed-meal?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then ... but it’s too late now, any way....” + </p> + <p> + And she looked into the sick man’s eyes again. + </p> + <p> + “He’s very far gone,” thought Mite. + </p> + <p> + “Got worse quickly,” said Barbara. + </p> + <p> + Zalia said nothing; she stood at the foot of the bed, looking at her + husband and then at the women who were saying what they thought of him. + </p> + <p> + “Get the blessed candle; we must pray, good people,” said Virginie; and + she put on her spectacles and went and stood with her book under the + light. + </p> + <p> + The women knelt on low chairs or on the floor. Warten stood with his + elbows leaning on the rail of the bed, at Zeen’s head. Treze took the + blessed candle out of its paper covering and lit it at the lamp. + </p> + <p> + Zeen’s chest rose and fell and his throat rattled painfully; his eyes + stood gazing dimly at the rafters of the ceiling; his thin lips were pale + and his face turned blue with the pain; he no longer looked like a living + thing. + </p> + <p> + Virginie read very slowly, with a dismal, drawling voice, through her + nose, while Treze held Zeen’s weak fingers closed round the candle. It was + still as death. + </p> + <p> + “May the Light of the World, Christ Jesus, Who is symbolized by this + candle, brightly light thy eyes that thou mayest not depart this life in + death everlasting. Our Father....” + </p> + <p> + They softly muttered this Our Father and it remained solemnly still, with + only Warten’s rough grunting and Zeen’s painful breathing and the goat + which kept ramming its head against the wall. And then, slower by degrees: + </p> + <p> + “Depart, O Christian soul, from this sorrowful world; go to meet thy dear + Bridegroom, Christ Jesus, and carry a lighted candle in thy hands: He + Who....” + </p> + <p> + Then Barbara, interrupting her, whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Look, Virginie, he’s getting worse; the rattle’s getting fainter: turn + over, you’ll be too late.” + </p> + <p> + Treze was tired of holding Zeen’s hand round the candle: she spilt a few + drops of wax on the rail of the bed and stuck the candle on it. + </p> + <p> + Zeen jerked himself up, put his hands under the clothes and fumbled with + them; then he lay still. + </p> + <p> + “He’s packing up,” whispered Barbara. + </p> + <p> + “He’s going,” one of the others thought. + </p> + <p> + Virginie dipped the palm-branch into the holy water and sprinkled the bed + and the bystanders; then she read on: + </p> + <p> + “Go forth, O Christian soul, out of this world, in the name of God the + Father Almighty, Who created thee, in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son of + the living God, Who suffered for thee; in the name of the Holy Ghost, Who + sanctified thee.” + </p> + <p> + “Hurry, hurry, Virginie: he’s almost stopped breathing!” + </p> + <p> + The cat jumped between Zalia and Treze on to the bed and went making dough + with its front paws on the clothes; it looked surprised at all those + people and purred softly. Warten drove it away with his cap. + </p> + <p> + “Receive, O Lord, Thy servant Zeen into the place of salvation which he + hopes to obtain through Thy mercy.” + </p> + <p> + “Amen,” they all answered. + </p> + <p> + “Deliver, O Lord, the soul of Thy servant from all danger of hell and from + all pain and tribulation.” + </p> + <p> + “Amen.” + </p> + <p> + “Deliver, O Lord, the soul of Thy servant Zeen, as Thou deliveredst Enoch + and Elias from the common death of the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Amen.” + </p> + <p> + “Deliver, O Lord, the soul of Thy servant Zeen, as Thou deliveredst....” + </p> + <p> + “I’m on fire! I’m on fire!” howled Warten. “My smock! My smock!” + </p> + <p> + And he jumped over all the chairs and rushed outside, with the others + after him. + </p> + <p> + “Caught fire at the candle!” he cried, quite out of breath. + </p> + <p> + They put out the flames, pulled the smock over his head and poured water + on his back, where his underclothes were smouldering. + </p> + <p> + “My smock, my smock!” he went on moaning. “Brand-new! Cost me forty-six + stuivers!” + </p> + <p> + And he stood with his smock in his hands, looking at the huge holes and + rents. + </p> + <p> + They made a great noise, all together, and their sharp voices rang far and + wide into the still night. + </p> + <p> + Virginie alone had remained by the bedside. She picked up the candle, lit + it again, put it back on the rail of the bed and then went on reading the + prayers. When she saw that Zeen lay very calmly and no longer breathed, + she sprinkled him with holy water for the last time and then went outside: + </p> + <p> + “People ... he’s with the Lord.” + </p> + <p> + It was as if their fright had made them forget what was happening indoors: + they rushed in, eager to know ... and Zeen was dead. + </p> + <p> + “Stone-dead,” said Barbara. + </p> + <p> + “Hopped the twig!” said Warten. + </p> + <p> + “Quick! Hurry! The tobacco-seed will be tainted!” screamed Mite; and she + snatched down two or three linen bags which hung from the rafters and + carried them outside. + </p> + <p> + First they moaned; then they tried to comfort one another, especially + Zalia, who had dropped into a chair and turned very pale. + </p> + <p> + Then they set to work: Treze filled the little glasses; Barbara hung the + water over the fire; and Warten, in his shirt-sleeves, stropped his razor + to shave Zeen’s beard. + </p> + <p> + “And the children! The children who are not here!” moaned Zalia. “He ought + to have seen the children!” + </p> + <p> + “First say the prayers,” ordered Virginie. + </p> + <p> + All knelt down and, while Warten shaved the dead man, it went: + </p> + <p> + “Come to his assistance, all ye saints of God; meet him, all ye angels of + God: receiving his soul, offering it in the sight of the Most High.... + </p> + <p> + “To Thee, O Lord, we commend the soul of Thy servant, that being dead to + this world, he may live to Thee; and whatever sins he has committed in + this life, through human frailty, do Thou, in Thy most merciful goodness, + forgive....” + </p> + <p> + “Amen,” they answered. + </p> + <p> + Virginie shut her book, once more sprinkled holy water on the corpse and + went home, praying as she went. + </p> + <p> + Zalia made the sign of the Cross and closed her husband’s eyes; then she + laid a white towel on a little table by the bed and put the candle on it + and the crucifix and the holy water. + </p> + <p> + Warten and Barbara took Zeen out of the bed and put him on a chair, washed + him all over with luke-warm water, put a clean shirt on him and his Sunday + clothes over him; then they laid him on the bed again. + </p> + <p> + “He’ll soon begin to must,” said Barbara. + </p> + <p> + “The weather’s warm.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s very bent: how’ll they get him into the coffin?” + </p> + <p> + “Crack his back.” + </p> + <p> + Treze looked round for a prayer-book to lay under Zeen’s chin and a + crucifix and rosary for his hands. + </p> + <p> + Mite took a red handkerchief and bound it round his head to keep his mouth + closed. Fietje was still kneeling and saying Our Fathers. + </p> + <p> + “It’s done now,” said Barbara, with a deep sigh. “We’ll have just one more + glass and then go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear people, stay a little longer!” whined Zalia. “Don’t leave me + here alone.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s only,” said Mite, “that it’ll be light early to-morrow and we’ve had + no sleep yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” said Barbara, to comfort her, “you mustn’t take on now. Zeen + has lived his span and has died happily in his bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Question is, shall we do as well?” said Mite. + </p> + <p> + “And Siska and Romenie and Kordula and the boys, who are not here! They + ought to have seen their father die!... The poor children, they’ll cry + so!” + </p> + <p> + “They’ll know it in good time,” said Warten. + </p> + <p> + “And where are they living now?” asked Mite. + </p> + <p> + “In France, the two oldest ... and there’s Miel, the soldier ... it’s in + their letters, behind the glass.” + </p> + <p> + “Give ‘em to me,” said Treze. “I’ll make my boy write to-morrow, before he + goes to school.” + </p> + <p> + They were going off. + </p> + <p> + “And I, who, with this all, don’t know where I’m to sleep,” said Warten. + “My old roost, over the goat-house: you’ll be wanting that to-night, + Zalia?” + </p> + <p> + Zalia wavered. + </p> + <p> + “Zalia could come with me,” said Barbara. + </p> + <p> + “And leave the house alone? And who’s to go to the priest to-morrow? And + to the carpenter? And my harvest, my harvest! Yes, yes, Warten, do you get + into the goat-house and help me a bit to-morrow. I shall sleep: why not?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Alla</i><a href="#linknote-12" name="linknoteref-12" + id="linknoteref-12"><small>12</small></a>, come, Fietje; mother’s going + home.” + </p> + <p> + They went; and Zalia came a bit of the way with them. Their wooden shoes + clattered softly in the powdery sand of the white road; when they had gone + very far, their voices still rang loud and their figures looked like + wandering pollards. + </p> + <p> + In the east, a thin golden-red streak hung between two dark clouds. It was + very cool. + </p> + <p> + “Fine weather to-morrow,” said Warten; and he trudged off to his + goat-house. “Good-night, Zalia.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Warten.” + </p> + <p> + “Sleep well.” + </p> + <p> + “Sleep well too and say another Our Father for Zeen.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + She went in and bolted the door. Inside it all smelt of candle and the + musty odour of the corpse. She put out the fire in the hearth, dipped her + fingers once more in the holy water and made a cross over Zeen. While her + lips muttered the evening prayers, she took off her kerchief, her jacket + and her cap and let fall her skirt. Then she straddled across Zeen and lay + right against the wall. She twisted her feet in her shift and crept + carefully under the bed-clothes. She shuddered. Her thoughts turned like + the wind: her daughters were in service in France and were now sleeping + quietly and knew of nothing; her eldest, who was married, and her husband + and the children came only once a year to see their father; and even + then.... And now they would find him dead. + </p> + <p> + Her harvest ... and she was alone now, to get it in. Warten would go to + the priest early in the morning and to the carpenter: the priest ought to + have been here, ‘twas a comfort after all; but Zeen had always been good + and ... now to go dying all at once like this, without the sacraments.... + </p> + <p> + Why couldn’t she sleep now? She was so tired, so worn out with that + reaping; and it was so warm here, so stifling and it smelt queer: what a + being could come to, when he was dead! + </p> + <p> + Had she slept at all? She had been lying there so long ... and there was + that smell! She wished she had sent Warten away and gone herself to lie in + the goat-house; here, beside that corpse ... but, after all, it was + Zeen.... + </p> + <p> + The flame of the candle flickered and everything flickered with it—the + loom, the black rafters and the crucifix—in dark shadow-stripes upon + the wall. ‘Twas that kept her awake. She sat up and blew from where she + was, but the flame danced more than ever and kept on burning. Then she + carefully stepped across Zeen and nipped out the candle with her fingers. + It was dark now.... She strode back into bed, stepping on Zeen’s leg; and + the corpse shook and the stomach rumbled. She held herself tucked against + the wall, twisted and turned, pinched her eyes to, but did not sleep. The + smell got into her nose and throat and it became very irksome, unbearable. + And she got out of bed again, to open the window. A fresh breeze blew into + the room; far away beyond, the sky began to brighten; and behind the + cornfield she heard the singing beat of a sickle and the whistling of a + sad, drawling street-ditty: + </p> + <p> + “They’re at work already.” + </p> + <p> + Now she lay listening to the whizzing beat and the rustle of the falling + corn and that drawling, never-changing tune.... + </p> + <p> + The funeral would be the day after to-morrow: already she saw all the + troop passing along the road and then in the church and then ... all + alone, home again. Zeen was dead now and she remained ... and all those + children, her children, who still had so long to live, would also grow + old, in their turn, and die ... ever on ... and all that misery and + slaving and then to go ... and Zeen, her Zeen, the Zeen of yesterday, who + was still alive then and not ill. Her Zeen; and she saw him as a young man + over forty years ago: a handsome chap he was. She had lived so long with + Zeen and had known him so well, better than her own self; and that he + should now be lying there beside her ... cold ... and never again ... that + he should now be dead. + </p> + <p> + Then she broke down and wept. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_FOOT" id="link2H_FOOT"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FOOTNOTES: + </h2> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-1" id="linknote-1"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 1 (<a href="#linknoteref-1">return</a>)<br /> [ The West-Fleming talks of + dogs of either sex invariably as “he.”] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-2" id="linknote-2"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 2 (<a href="#linknoteref-2">return</a>)<br /> [ A cow’s horn fitted with a + mouthpiece.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-3" id="linknote-3"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 3 (<a href="#linknoteref-3">return</a>)<br /> [ An iron pot with a bladder + stretched across the top, beaten with sticks, like a drum.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-4" id="linknote-4"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 4 (<a href="#linknoteref-4">return</a>)<br /> [ Beggar.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-5" id="linknote-5"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 5 (<a href="#linknoteref-5">return</a>)<br /> [ A legendary figure of a + snow-covered bogie, who comes down to the villages at Christmas-time and + runs away with the children.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-6" id="linknote-6"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 6 (<a href="#linknoteref-6">return</a>)<br /> [ The bedroom behind the + kitchen or living-room, in the Flemish cottages, is over the cellar; but + this cellar is not entirely underground and is lighted by a very low + window at the back. Consequently, the floor of the bedroom is a little + higher than that of the living-room and is approached by a flight of two + or three steps.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-7" id="linknote-7"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 7 (<a href="#linknoteref-7">return</a>)<br /> [ The Flemish low-wheeled + cart drawn by dogs.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-8" id="linknote-8"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 8 (<a href="#linknoteref-8">return</a>)<br /> [ The West-Flemings brew a + beer so extremely strong that it is served in quite small glasses, not + more than half the size of an ordinary tumbler.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-9" id="linknote-9"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 9 (<a href="#linknoteref-9">return</a>)<br /> [ Hob-nailed shoes fastened + with straps.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-10" id="linknote-10"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 10 (<a href="#linknoteref-10">return</a>)<br /> [ The Flemish stove is + connected with the chimney by a flat pipe, on which the plates and other + utensils are heated. On Sundays, the stove, the pipe and all are blacked + and polished with black-lead and turpentine; and it is an old custom of + neat house-wives to powder the stove-pipe with white sand from the dunes. + The sand is allowed to run through a little opening in the hand in a + series of fine wavy lines, forming a delicate pattern on the black pipe.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-11" id="linknote-11"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 11 (<a href="#linknoteref-11">return</a>)<br /> [ Epsom salts.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-12" id="linknote-12"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 12 (<a href="#linknoteref-12">return</a>)<br /> [ A corruption of the + French <i>allez!</i> + </p> + <h3> + THE END. + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Path of Life, by Stijn Streuvels + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PATH OF LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 8437-h.htm or 8437-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/4/3/8437/ + + +Text file produced by Eric Eldred, Thomas Berger, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Path of Life + +Author: Stijn Streuvels + +Translator: Alexander Teixeira De Mattos + + +Release Date: July, 2005 [EBook #8437] +This file was first posted on July 10, 2003 +Last Updated: May 9, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PATH OF LIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Thomas Berger, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + +THE PATH OF LIFE + +By Stijn Streuvels + + +Translated from the West-Flemish by + +Alexander Teixeira De Mattos + + + + +TRANSLATOR's NOTE + +In introducing this new writer to the English-speaking public, I may be +permitted to give a few particulars of himself and his life. Stijn +Streuvels is accepted not only in Belgium, but also in Holland as the +most distinguished Low-Dutch author of our time: his vogue, in fact, is +even greater in the North Netherlands than in the southern kingdom. And I +will go further and say that I know no greater living writer of +imaginative prose in any land or any language. His medium is the +West-Flemish dialect, which is spoken by perhaps a million people +inhabiting the stretch of country that forms the province of West +Flanders and is comprised within the irregular triangle outlined by the +North Sea on the west, the French frontier of Flanders on the south and a +line drawn at one-third of the distance between Bruges and Ghent on the +east. In addition to Bruges and Ostend, this province of West Flanders +includes such towns as Poperinghe, Ypres and Courtrai; and so subtly +subdivided is the West-Flemish dialect that there are words which a man +of Bruges will use to a man of Poperinghe and not be understood. + +It is one of the most interesting dialects known to me, containing +numbers of mighty mediaeval words which survive in daily use; and it is +one of the richest: rich especially--and this is not usual in +dialects--in words expressive of human characteristics and of physical +sensations. + +Thus there is a word to describe a man who is not so much a poor wretch, +_un miserable_, as what Tom Hood loved to call "a hapless wight:" one who +is poor and wretched and outcast and out of work, not through any fault +of his own, through idleness or fecklessness, but through sheer ill-luck. +There is a word to describe what we feel when we hear the tearing of silk +or the ripping of calico, a word expressing that sense of angry +irritation which gives a man a gnawing in the muscles of the arms, a word +that tells what we really feel in our hair when we pretend that it +"stands on end." It is a sturdy, manly dialect, moreover, spoken by a +fine, upstanding race of "chaps," "fellows," "mates," "wives," and +"women-persons," for your Fleming rarely talks of "men" or "women." It is +also a very beautiful dialect, having many words that possess a charm all +their own. Thus _monkelen_, the West-Flemish for the verb "to smile," is +prettier and has an archer sound than its Dutch equivalent, _glimlachen_. +And it is a dialect of sufficient importance to boast a special +dictionary (_Westvlaamsch Idiotikon_, by the Rev. L. L. De Bo: Bruges, +1873) of 1,488 small-quarto pages, set in double column. + +In translating Streuvels' sketches, I have given a close rendering: to +use a homely phrase, their flavour is very near the knuckle; and I have +been anxious to lose no more of it than must inevitably be lost through +the mere act of translation. I hope that I may be forgiven for one or two +phrases, which, though not existing, so far as I am aware, in any country +or district where the English tongue is spoken, are not entirely foreign +to the genius of that tongue. Here and there, but only where necessary, I +have added an explanatory foot-note. + +For those interested in such matters, I may say that Stijn Streuvels' +real name is Frank Lateur. He is a nephew of Guido Gezelle, the +poet-priest, whose statue graces the public square at Courtrai, unless +indeed by this time those shining apostles of civilization, the Germans, +have destroyed it. Until ten years ago, when he began to come into his +own, he lived at Avelghem, in the south-east corner of West Flanders, +hard by Courtrai and the River Lys, and there baked bread for the +peasant-fellows and peasant-wives. For you must know that this foremost +writer of the Netherlands was once a baker and stood daily at sunrise, +bare-chested, before his glowing oven, drawing bread for the folk of his +village. The stories and sketches in the present volume all belong to +that period. + +Of their number, _Christmas Night_, _A Pipe or no Pipe_, _On Sundays_ and +_The End_ have appeared in the _Fortnightly Review_, which was the first +to give Stijn Streuvels the hospitality of its pages; _In Early Winter_ +and _White Life_ in the _English Review_; _The White Sand-path_ in the +_Illustrated London News_; _An Accident in Everyman_; and _Loafing_ in +the _Lady's Realm_. The remainder are now printed in English for the +first time. + +ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS. + +Chelsea, _April_, 1915. + + + +CONTENTS + + +TRANSLATOR'S NOTE + + I. THE WHITE SAND-PATH + + II. IN EARLY WINTER. + + III. CHRISTMAS NIGHT. + + IV. LOAFING + + V. SPRING + + VI. IN THE SQUALL + + VII. A PIPE OR NO PIPE + +VIII. ON SUNDAYS + + IX. AN ACCIDENT + + X. WHITE LIFE + + XI. THE END. + + + +THE WHITE SAND-PATH + + + + +I. THE WHITE SAND-PATH + +I was a devil of a scapegrace in my time. No tree was too high for me, no +water too deep; and, when there was mischief going, I was the ring-leader +of the band. Father racked his head for days together to find a +punishment that I should remember; but it was all no good: he wore out +three or four birch-rods on my back; his hands pained him merely from +hitting my hard head; and bread and water was a welcome change to me from +the everyday monotony of potatoes and bread-and-butter. After a sound +drubbing followed by half a day's fasting, I felt more like laughing than +like crying; and, in half a while, all was forgotten and my wickedness +began afresh and worse than ever. + +One summer's evening, I came home in fine fettle. I and ten of my +school-fellows had played truant: we had gone to pick apples in the +priest's orchard; and we had pulled the burgomaster's calf into the brook +to teach it to swim, but the banks were too high and the beast was +drowned. Father, who had heard of these happenings, laid hold of me in a +rage and gave me a furious trouncing with a poker, after which, instead +of turning me into the road, as his custom was, he caught me up fair and +square, carried me to the loft, flung me down on the floor and bolted the +trap-door behind him. + +In the loft! Heavenly goodness, in the loft! + +Of an evening I never dared think of the place; and in bright sunshine I +went there but seldom and then always in fear. + +I lay as dead, pinched my eyes to and pondered on my wretched plight. +'Twas silent all around; I heard nothing, nothing. That lasted pretty +long, till I began to feel that the boards were so hard and that my body, +which had been thrashed black and blue, was hurting me. My back was stiff +and my arms and legs grew cold. And yet I nor wished nor meant to stir: +that was settled in my head. In the end, it became unbearable: I drew in +my right leg, shifted my arm and carefully opened my eyes. 'Twas so +ghastly, oh, so frightfully dark and warm: I could see the warm darkness; +so funny, that steep, slanting tiled roof, crossed by black rafters, +beams and laths, and all that space beyond, which disappeared in the dark +ridgework: 'twas like a deserted, haunted booth at a fair, during the +night. Over my head, like threatening blunderbusses, old trousers and +jackets hung swinging, with empty arms and legs: they looked just like +fellows that had been hanged! And it grew darker, steadily darker. + +My eyes stood fixed and I heard my breath come and go. I pondered how +'twould end here. That lasting silence affrighted me; the anxious waiting +for that coming night: to have to spend a long, long night here alone! My +hair itched and pricked on my head. And the rats! I gave a great loud +scream. It rang in anguish through the sloping vault of the loft. I +listened as it died away ... and nothing followed. I screamed again and +again and went on, till my throat was torn. + +The gruesome thought of those rats and of that long night drove me mad +with fear. I rolled about on the floor, I struck out with my arms and +legs, like one possessed, in violent, childish fury. Then, worn out, I +let my arms and legs rest; at last, tired, swallowed up in my +helplessness, left without will or feeling, I waited for what was to +come. I had terribly wicked thoughts: of escaping from the house, of +setting fire to the house, of _murder_! I was an outcast, I was being +tortured. I should have liked to show them what I could do, who I was; to +see them hunting for me and crying; and then to run away, always farther +away, and never come back again. + +Downstairs, the plates and forks were clattering for supper. I was not +hungry; I did not wish nor mean to eat. I heard soft, quiet voices +talking: that made me desperate; they were not speaking of me! They had +no thought nor care for the miscreant; they would liefst have him dead, +out of the way. And I was in the loft! + +Later, very much later, I heard my little brother's voice saying evening +prayers--I would not pray--and then I heard nothing more, nothing; and I +lay there, upstairs, lonely and forlorn.... + +I walked all alone in the forest, through the brushwood. 'Twas half-dark +below; but, above the bushes, the sun was playing as through a green +curtain. I went on and on. The bushes here grew thick now and the tiny +path was lost. After long creeping and stumbling, I leapt across a ditch +and entered the wide drove. It did not seem strange to me that 'twas even +darker here and that the light, instead of from above, came streaming low +down from between the trunks of the trees. The vault was closed +leaf-tight and the trunks hung down from out of it like pillars. 'Twas +silent all around. I went, as I thought that I must see the sun, round +behind the trunks, half anxious at last to get out of that magic forest; +but new trees kept coming up, as though out of the ground, and hid the +sun. I would have liked to run, but felt I know not what in my legs that +made me drag myself on. + +Far beyond, on the road-side grass, sat two boys. It was ... but no, they +were sitting there too glumly! I went up to them and, after all, knew +them for Sarelke and Lowietje, the village-constable's children. They sat +with their legs in the ditch, their elbows on their knees, earnestly +chatting. I sat down beside them, but they did not even look up, did not +notice me. Those two boys, my schoolmates, the worst two scamps in the +village, sat there like two worn-out old fogies: they did not know me. +This ought to have surprised me, and yet I thought that it must be right +and that it had always been so. They chatted most calmly of the price of +marbles, of the way to tell the best hoops, of buying a new box of tin +soldiers; and they mumbled their words as slowly as the priest in his +pulpit. I became uncomfortable, felt ill at ease in that stifling air, +under that half-dusk of the twilight, where everything was happening so +earnestly, so very slowly and so heavily. I, who was all for sport and +child's-play, now found my own chums so altered; and they no longer knew +me. I would have liked to shout, to grip them hard by the shoulder and +call out that it was I: I, I, I! But I durst not, or could not. + +"There--comes--the--keeper," droned Sarelke. + +Lowietje looked down the drove with his great glassy eyes. The two boys +stood up and, without speaking, shuffled away. I saw them get smaller and +smaller, till they became two black, hovering little specks that vanished +round the bend. + +I was alone again! Alone, with all those trees, in that frightful silence +all around me. And the keeper, where was he? He would come, I knew it; +and I felt afraid of the awful fellow. I must get away from this, I must +hide myself. I lay down, very slowly, deep in the ditch. I now felt that +I had been long, long dead and that I was lying here alone, waiting for I +forget what. That keeper: was there such a person? He now seemed to me an +awesome clod of earth, which came rolling down, slowly but steadily, and +which would fall heavily upon me. Then he turned into a lovely white +ashplant, which stood there waving its boughs in a stately manner. I +would let him go past and then would go away. People were waiting for me, +I had to be somewhere: I tried mightily to remember where, but could not. + +The keeper did not come. + +The ditch was cold, the bottom was of smooth, worn stone and very hard. I +lay there with gleaming eyes: above my head stood the giant oaks, +silently, and their knotted branches ran up and were lost in the dark +sky. + +The keeper came, I heard his coming; and the wind blew fearfully through +the trees. I shivered.... + +I woke with fright and I was still lying in my loft. The hard bottom of +the ditch was the boarded floor and the tree-trunks were the legs of +father's trousers and the branches ran up and were lost in the darksome +roofwork. Two sharp rays of light beamed through the shut dormer-window. +It must be day then! And this awful night was past! All my dismay was +gone and a bold feeling came over me, something like the feeling of +gladness that follows on a solved problem. I would make Lowietje and +Sarelke and all the boys at school hark to my tale, that I would! I had +slept a whole night alone in the loft! And the rats! And the ghosts! Ooh! +And not a whit afraid! + +I got up, but that was such a slow business. I still felt that dream and +that slackness in my limbs. I was so stiff; that heavy gloom, that slow +passing of time still lingered--just as in my dream--in my slow +breathing. I still saw that forest and, shut up as I was, with not a +single touchstone for my thoughts, I began to doubt if my dream was done +and I had to feel the trouser-legs to make sure that they were not really +trees. + +Time stood still and there was no getting out of my mind the strange +things seen in that dream-forest, with those earnest, sluggish, elderly +children and that queer keeper. 'Twas as though some one were holding my +arms and legs tight to make them move heavily, deadly heavily; and I felt +myself, within my head, grown quite thirty years older, become suddenly +an old man. I walked about the loft; I wanted to make myself heard, but +my footsteps gave no sound. + +I grew awfully hungry. Near the ladder-door, I found my prison fare. I +nibbled greedily at my crust of bread and took a good drink of water. + +I now felt better, but this doing nothing wearied me; I became sad and +felt sorry to be sitting alone. If things had gone their usual gait, I +should now be with my mates at school or playing somewhere under the open +sky; and that open sky now first revealed all its delightfulness. The +usual gait, when all was said, was by far the best.... All alone like +this, up here.... Should I go down and beg father's pardon? Then 'twould +all be over and done with.... + +"No!" said something inside me, "I stay here!" + +And I stayed. + +I shoved a box under the dormer-window, I pushed open the wooden +shutter ... and there! Before me lay the wide stretch in the blazing +sunlight! My eyes were quite blind with it. + +'Twas good up here and funny to see everything from so high up, so +endlessly far! And the people were no bigger than tiny tadpoles! + +Just under my dormer-window came a path, a white sand-path winding from +behind the house and then running forwards to the horizon in a line +straight as an arrow. It looked like a naked strip of ground, powdered +white and showing up sharply, like a flat snake, in the middle of the +green fields which, broken into their many-coloured squares, lay blinking +in the sun. + +This path was deserted, lonely, as though nor man nor beast had ever +trodden it. It lay very near the house and I did not know it from up +here; it looked now like a long strip of drab linen, which lay bleaching +in a boundless meadow. And that again suited my loneliness so well! At +last, I looked and saw nothing more. And that path!... + +Slowly, overcome by that silent, restful idleness, I fell a-dreaming; and +that path, that long, white path seemed to me to have become a part of my +own being, something like a life that began over there, far away yonder +in the clear blue, to end in the unknown, here, behind the gable-end, cut +off at that fatal bend. + +After long looking, I saw something, very far off; it came so slowly, so +softly, like a thing that grows, and those two little black patches grew +into two romping schoolboys, who, rolling and leaping along, came running +down the white sand-path and, at last, disappeared in the bend behind the +gable-end. + +Then, for another long while, nothing more, nothing but sand, green and +sunshine. + +Later, 'twas three labourers, who came stepping up briskly, with their +gear over their shoulders. Half-way up the path, they jumped across the +ditch and went to work in the field. They toiled on, without looking up +or round, toiled on till I got tired of watching and tired of those three +stooping men and of seeing that gleaming steel flicker in the sun and go +in and out of the earth. + +When now 'twas mid-day and fiercely hot in my loft, my three labourers +sat down behind a tree and ate their noonday meal. + +I went to the loft-door and devoured my second crust of bread and took a +fresh gulp of water. + +Very calmly, without thinking, lame with the heat and with that old-man's +feeling still inside me, I went and sat at the window. + +The three men worked on, always, without stopping. + +And that went on, went on, until the evening! When 'twas nearly dark, +they gathered up their tools, jumped over the ditch, walked down the path +the way they had come and disappeared behind the gable-end. + +Now it became deadly. + +In the distance appeared a great black patch, which came slowly nearer +and nearer. The patch turned into a lazy, slow-stepping ox, with a +jolting, creaking waggon, in which sat a little old man who gazed +stupidly in front of him into the dark distance. The cart dragged along +wearily, creeping through the sand, and first the ox, then the little +fellow, then the waggon disappeared behind the gable-end. + +Now I felt something like fear and I shivered: the evening was coming so +slowly, so sadly; and I dared not think of the night that was to follow. +'Twas the first time in my life that I fell earnestly a-thinking. So that +path there became a life, a long-drawn-out, earnest life.... That was +quite plain in my head; and those boys had rolled and tumbled along that +path; next, those big men had burdensomely, most burdensomely turned over +their bit of earth; and the ox and the little old fellow had joggled +along it so piteously.... That life was so earnest and I had seen it all +from so far, from the outside of it: I did nothing, I took no part in it +and yet I lived ... and must also one day go along that path! + +And how? + +Getting up in the morning, eating, playing, going to school, misbehaving, +playing, eating, sleeping.... + +The mist rose out of the fields and I saw nothing more. + +I jumped off my box, begged father's pardon and crept into bed. + +Never again was I shut up in the loft. + + + + +II. IN EARLY WINTER + +First the leaves had become pale, deathly pale; later they turned +yellow-brown; and then they went fluttering and flickering, so wearily, +so slackly, like the wings of dying birds; and, one after the other, they +began to fall, dancing gently downwards, in eddies. They whirled in the +air, were carried on by the wind and at last fell dead and settled +somewhere in the mud. + +Not a living thing was to be seen and the cottages that sat huddled close +to the ground remained fast shut; the smoke from the chimneys alone still +gave a sign of life. + +The green drove now stood bare and bleak: two rows of straight trunks +which grew less and faded away in the blue mist. + +Yonder comes something creeping up: a shapeless thing, like two little +black stripes, with something else; and it approaches.... + +At last and at length, out of those little stripes, appear a man and a +wife; and, out of the other thing, a barrel-organ on a cart, with a dog +between the wheels. + +It all looked the worse for wear. The little fellow went bent between the +shafts and tugged; the little old woman's lean arms pushed against the +organ-case; and the wheeled thing jolted on like that over the cart-ruts, +along the drove and through the wide gate of an honest homestead. + +A flight of black crows sailed across the sky. The wind soughed through +the naked tree-tops; the mist rose and the world thinned away in a bluey +haze; this all vanished and slowly it became dark black night. + +Man, woman and dog, they crept, all three, high into the loft and deep +into the hay; and they dozed away, like all else outside them and around. +Warm they lay there! And dream they did, of the cold, of the dark and of +the sad moaning wind! + +At early morning, before it was bright day, they were on the tramp, over +the fallow fields, and drowned in a huge sea of thick blue mist. They +pulled for all they could: the little fellow in the shafts, the little +old woman behind the cart and the dog, with his head to the ground, for +the road's sake. + +A red glow broke in the east and a new day brightened. 'Twas all white, +snow-white, as if the blue mist had bleached, melted and stuck fast on +the black fields, on the half-withered autumn fruits and on the dark +fretwork of the trees. Great drops dripped from the boughs. + +From under the peak of his cap, the fellow peered into the distance with +his one eye, and he saw a church and houses. They went that way. + +'Twas low-roofed cottages they saw, all covered with hoar-frost; here and +there stood one alone and then a whole little row, crowded close +together: a street. + +They were in the village. + +It was lone and still, like a cloister, with here a little woman who, +tucked into her hooded cloak, crept along the houses to the church; there +a smith who hammered ... and the little church-bell, which tinkled over +the house-tops. + +They stopped. The dog sat down to look. The little fellow threw off his +shoulder-strap, pulled his cap down lower and felt under the red-brown +organ-cloth for the handle. He gave a look at the houses that stood +before him, pinched his sunken mouth, wiped the seam of his sleeve over +his face and started grinding. Half-numbed sounds came trickling into the +chill street from under the organ-cloth: a sad--once, perhaps, +dance-provoking--tune, which now, false, dragging and twisted out of +shape, was like a muddled crawling of sounds all jumbled up together; +some came too soon, the others too late, as in a weariful dream; and, in +between, a sighing and creaking which came from very deep down, at each +third or fourth turn, and was deadened again at once in those +ever-recurring rough organ-sounds or dragged on and deafened in a mad +dance. 'Twas like a poor little huddled soul uttering its plaint amid the +hullabaloo of rude men shouting aloud in the street. + +The dog also had begun to howl when the tune started. + +The little wife had settled her kerchief above her sharp-featured +old-wife's face; and, with one hand in her apron-pocket and the other +holding a little tin can, she now went from door to door: + +"For the poor blind man.... God reward you." + +And this through the whole street and farther, to the farmhouses, from +the one to the other, all day long, till evening fell again and that same +thick mist came to wrap everything in its grey, dark breath. + +And again they wandered, through a drove, to a homestead and into the +hay. + +"The dog has pupped," said the little old woman; and she shook her man. + +"Pupped?..." + +And he turned in the nest which he had made for himself, pushed his head +deeper in the hay and drowsed on. He dreamt of dogs and of pups and of +organs and of ear-splitting yelps and howls. + +The dog lay in a fine, round little nest of his own, rolled into a ball +and moaning. And he[1] looked so sadly and kindly into the little old +woman's eyes; and he licked, never stopped licking his puppies. They were +like three red-brown moles, each with a fat head; they wriggled their +thick little bodies together and sought about and squeaked. + +[1] The West-Fleming talks of dogs of either sex invariably as "he." + +When the tramps had swallowed their slice of rye-bread and their dish of +porridge, they went on, elsewhither. The little fellow tugged, the little +old woman pushed and the dogs hung swinging between the wheels, in a +fig-basket. So they went begging, from hamlet to hamlet, the wide world +through: an old man and woman, with their organ; and a dog with his three +young pups. + + +***** + + +Much later.... + +The thick mist had changed into bright, glittering dewdrops and the sun +shone high in the heaven. Now four dogs lay harnessed to the cart, four +red-brown dogs. And, when the handle turned and the organ played, all +those four dogs lifted their noses on high and howled uglily. + +Inside, deep-hidden under the organ-cloth, sat the little soul, the +mysterious, shabby little organ-soul, grown quite hoarse now and almost +dumb. + + + + +III. CHRISTMAS NIGHT + +Over there, high up among the pines, stood the house where he lived alone +with the trees and the birds; and there, every morning, he saw the sun +rise and, in the evening, sink away again. And for how many years! + +In summer, the white clouds floated high over his head; the blackbirds +sang in the wood around his door; and before him, in a blue vista, lay +the whole world. + +When his harvest was gathered and the days drew in, when the sky closed +up, when the dry pines shook and rocked in the sad wind and the crows +dropped like black flakes and came cawing over the fields, he closed his +windows and sat down in the dark to brood. + +He must go down yonder now, to the village below. + +He fetched his Christmas star from the loft, restuck the gold flowers and +paper strips and fastened them in the cleft of the long wand. Then he put +on his greatcoat, drew the hood over his head and went. + +From behind the black clouds came a light, a dull copper glow, without +rays, high up where the stars were; it set golden edges to the hem of the +clouds; the heaven remained black. There appeared a little streak of +glowing copper, which grew and grew, became a sickle, a half-disk and at +last a great, round, giant gold moon, which rose and rose. It went up +like a huge round orange behind the heaven and, more and more swiftly, +shot up into the sky, growing smaller and smaller, till it became just a +common moon, the laughing moon among the stars. + +He alone had seen it. + +Now he took his star on his shoulder, pulled his hood deep over his head +and wandered down the little path, all over the snow, to where the lights +were burning. It was lonely, lifeless, that white plain under that +burnished sky; and he was all alone, the black fellow on the snow. And he +saw the world so big, so monotonously bleak; a flat, white wilderness, +with here and there a straight, thin poplar and a row of black, lean, +knotty willows. + +He went down towards the lights. + +The village lay still. The street was black with people. Great crowds of +womenfolk, tucked and muffled in black hooded cloaks, tramped as in a +dream along the houses, over the squeaking snow. They shuffled from door +to door, stuck out their bony hands and asked plaintively for their +God's-penny. They disappeared at the end of the street and went trudging +into the endless moonlight. + +Children went with lights and stars and stood gathered in groups, their +black faces glowing in the shine of their lanterns; they made a huge din +with their tooting-horns[2] and rumble-pot[3] and sang of + + The Babe born in the straw + +and + + The shepherds they come here. + They're bringing wood and fire + And this and that and t'other: + Now bring us a pot of beer. + +[2] A cow's horn fitted with a mouthpiece. + +[3] An iron pot with a bladder stretched across the top, beaten with + sticks, like a drum. + +Mad Wanne went alone; she kept on lurching across the street with her +long legs, which stuck out far from under her skirt, and held her arms +wide open under her hooded cloak, like a demon bat. She snuffled +something about: + + 'Twas hailing, 'twas snowing and 'twas bad weather + And over the roofs the wind it flew. + Saint Joseph said to Mary Maid: + "Mary, what shall we do?" + +Top[4] Dras, Wulf and Grendel, three fellows, tall as trees, were also +loafing round. They were the three Kings: Top had turned his big jacket +and blackened his face; Grendel wore a white sheet over his back and blew +the horn; and Wulf had a mitre on and carried a great star with a lantern +on a stick. So they dragged along the street, singing at every door: + + Three Kings with a star + Came travelling from afar, + Over mountains, hills and dale, + To go and look + In every nook, + To go and look for the Lord of All. + +[4] Beggar. + +Their rough voices droned and three great shadows walked far ahead of +them on the white street-snow. All those people came and went and twisted +and turned and came and went again. Each sang his own little song and +fretted his whining prayer. Above all this rose the dull toot of the +baker's horn, as he kept on shouting: + +"Hot bread! Hot bread!" + +High hung the moon and blinked the stars; and fine white shafts fell +through the air, upon everything around, like silver pollen. + +"Maarten of the mountain!" whispered the children behind the window. +"Maarten the Freezyman!"[5] + +[5] A legendary figure of a snow-covered bogie, who comes down to the + villages at Christmas-time and runs away with the children. + +And they crept back into the kitchen, beside the fire. + +And the black man stood outside the door, tugging at the string of his +twirling star, and sang through his nose: + + Come, star, come, star, you must not so still stand! + You must go with me to Bethlehem Land, + To Bethlehem, that comely city, + Where Mary sits with her Babe on her knee.... + +Along the country-roads, the farmhouses stood snowed in, with black +window-shutters, which showed dark against the walls and shut in the +light, and stumpy chimneys, with thick smoke curling from them. Indoors, +there was no seeing clearly: the lamp hung from the ceiling in a ring of +steam and smoke and everything lay black and tumbled. In the hearth, the +yule-log lay blazing. The farmer's wife baked waffles and threw them in +batches on the straw-covered floor. + +In one corner, under the light and wound from head to foot in +tobacco-smoke, were the farm-hands, playing cards. They sat wrapped up in +their game, bending over their little table, very quiet. Now and then +came a half-oath and the thud of a fist on the table and then again +peaceful shuffling and stacking and playing of their cards. + +The Freezyman sat in the midst of the children, who listened open-mouthed +to his tale of _The Mighty Hunter_. + +His star stood in the corner. + +Later, the big table was drawn out and supper served. All gathered round +and sat down and ate. First came potatoes and pork, red kale and pigs' +chaps, then stewed apples and sausages ... and waffles, waffles, waffles. +They drank beer out of little glass mugs. The table was cleared, coffee +poured out, spirits fetched from the cupboard and gin burnt with sugar. +Then the chairs were pushed close, right round the hearth, and Maarten +stood up, took his star, smoothed his long beard and, keeping time by +tugging the string of his star, droned out: + + On Christmas night + Is Jesus born + To fight our fight + Against the night + Of Satan and his devil-spawn. + And a manger is His cot + And all humble is His lot; + _So, mortal, make you humble, too, + To serve Him Who thus served you_. + + Three wise men and each a king + Come to make Him offering; + Gold, frankincense and myrrh they bring. + Angels sweet + Kiss His feet, + As they sing: + "Hail, Lord and King!" + Telling all mankind the story + Of His wonder and His glory; + _So, mortal, make you humble, too, + To serve Him Who thus served you_. + +All else was still. The men sat drinking their hot gin, the children +listened with their heads on one side and the farmer's wife, with her +hands folded over her great lap, sat crying. + +The door opened and the Kings stood in the middle of the floor. They were +white with snow and their faces blue with cold; the ice hung from +Grendel's moustache. They looked hard under their hats at the table, the +hearth and the little glasses and at Maarten, who was still standing up. +Wulf made his star turn, Top banged his rumble-pot to time and they sang: + + Three Kings came out of the East; + 'Twas to comfort Mary.... + +When the song was ended, each got two little glasses; then they could go. + +Grendel cursed aloud. + +"That damned hill-devil swallows it all up," muttered Wulf. + +And they went off through the snow. + +The others sang and played and played cards for ever so long and 'twas +late when Maarten took his star and, with a "Good-night till next year," +pulled the door behind him. + +It was still light outside, but the sky hung full of snow; above, a grey +fleece and, lower, a swirl of great white flakes, which fell down slowly +swarming one on top of the other. + +He plunged deep into it.... It was still so far to go; and his house and +his pines, he had left them all so far behind. + +He was so old, so lone; it was so cold; and all the roads were white ... +all sky and snow. In the hollow lay the village: a little group of +sleeping houses round the white church-steeple; and behind it lay his +mountain, but it was like a cloud, a shapeless monster, very far away. + +Above his head, stars, stars in long rows. He stood still and looked up +and found one which he saw every evening, a pale, dead star, like an old +acquaintance, which would lead him--for the last time, perhaps--back to +his mountain, back home. + +And he trudged on. + +There was a light in the three narrow pointed windows of the chapel and +the bell tinkled within. He went to rest a bit against the wall. What a +noise and what a bustle all the evening ... and the gin! And those rough +chaps had looked at him so brutally. In there, it was still; those +windows gleamed so brightly; and, after the sound of the bell, there came +so softly a woman's voice: + +"_Venite adoremus_...." + +Then all was silence, the lights went out. And he fared on. + +The village lay behind him and the road began to climb. There, on the +right, stood "The Jolly Hangman." Now he knows his way and 'tis no longer +far from home. From out of the ditch comes something creeping, a black +shape that runs across the plain, chattering like a magpie: Mad Wanne, +with her thin legs and her cloak wide open. She ran as fast as she could +run and vanished behind the inn. + +He had started; he became so frightened, so uneasy, that he hastened his +steps and longed to be at home. + +There was still a light in "The Jolly Hangman" and a noise of drunken +men. He passed, but then turned back again ... to sing his last song, +according to old custom. They opened the door and asked him in. He saw +Grendel sitting there and tried to get away. Then the three of them +rushed out and called after him. When they saw that he went on, they +broke into a run: + +"Stop, you brute!... Here, you with your star!... Oh, you damned singer +of songs!" they howled and ran and caught him and threw him down. + +Grendel dug his knee into his chest and held his arms stretched wide +against the ground. Wulf and Dras gripped whole handfuls of snow and +crammed it into his mouth and went on until all his face was thickly +covered and he lay powerless. Then they planted his star beside him in +the snow and began to turn and sing to the echo: + + _A, a, a_--glory be to Him on high to-day! + _E, e, e_--upon earth peace there shall be! + _I, i, i_--come and see with your own eye! + _O, o, o_--His little bed of straw below! + +Like a flash, Mad Wanne shot past, yelling and shrieking. Wulf flung his +stick against her legs. She waved her arms under her cloak and vanished +in the dark. + +The three men sat down by the ditch and laughed full-throated. Then they +started for the village. Long it rang: + + Three Kings came out of the East; + 'Twas to comfort Mary ... + +Great white flakes fell from the starry sky, wriggled and swarmed, one on +top of the other. + + + + +IV. LOAFING + +He went, ever on the move, with the slow, shuffling step of wandering +beggars who are nowhere at home. + +They had discharged him, some time ago, and now he was walking alone like +a wild man. For whole days he had dragged himself through the moorland, +from farm to farm, looking for his bread like the dogs. Now he came to a +wide lane of lime-trees and before him lay the town, asleep. He went into +it. The streets lay dead, the doors were shut, the windows closed: all +the people were resting; and he loafed. It was dreary, to walk alone like +that, all over the country-side, and with such a body: a giant with huge +legs and arms, which were doomed to do nothing, and that belly, that +craving belly, which he carried about with him wherever he went. + +And nobody wanted him: 'twas as though they were afraid of his strong +limbs and his stubborn head--because his glowing eyes could not entreat +meekly enough--and his blackguardly togs.... + +Morning came; the working-folk were early astir. Lean men and pale women, +carrying their kettles and food-satchels in their hands, beat the +slippery pavements with their wooden shoes. Doors and windows flew open; +life began; every one walked with a busy air, knew where he was going; +and they vanished here and there, through a big gate or behind a narrow +door that shut with a bang. Carts with green stuff, waggons with sand and +coal drove this way and that. Fellows with milk and bread went round; and +it grew to a din of calls and cries, each shouting his loudest. + +And he loafed. Nobody looked at him, noticed him or wanted him. In the +middle of the forenoon, a young lady had stared at him for a long time +and said to her mother: + +"What a huge fellow!" + +He had heard her and it did him good. He looked round, but mother and +daughter were gone, behind a corner, and stood gazing into a shop full of +bows and ribbons. + +It began to whirl terribly in his belly; and his stomach hurt him so; and +his legs were tired. + +The streets and houses and all those strange people annoyed him. He +wanted to get away, far away, and to see men like himself: workers +without work, who were hungry! + +He looked for the narrow alleys and the poor quarter. + +Out of a side-street a draycart came jogging along. Half a score of +labourers lay tugging in the shoulder-strap or leant with all the force +of their bodies against the cart, which rolled on toilsomely. 'Twas a +load of flax, packed tightly in great square bales standing one against +the other, the whole cart full. The dray caught its right wheel in the +grating of an open gutter and remained stock-still, leaning aslant, as +though planted there. The workmen racked and wrung to get the wheel out, +but it was no good. Then they stood there, staring at one another, at +their wits' end and throwing glances into the eyes of that big fellow who +had come to look on. Without saying or speaking, he caught a spoke in +either hand, pressed with his mighty shoulder against the inside of the +wheel, bent and wrung and in a turn brought the cart on the level. Then +he went behind among the other workmen to go and help them shove. They +looked at him queerly, as if to say that they no longer needed his help +and had rather done without him. The cart rolled on, another street or +two, and then through the open gate of the warehouse. The labourers +looked into one another's eyes uneasily, moved about, pulled the bales +off the cart and dragged them a little farther along the wall. Then they +tailed off, one by one, through a small inner door; and he stood there +alone, like a fool. A bit later, he heard them laugh and whisper under +their breaths. When he was tired of waiting, he went up the street again. + +Nobody, nobody, nobody wanted him! + +He ground his teeth and clenched his fists. In the street through which +he had to go, on the spaces outside the hotels sat ladies and gentlemen +toying with strange foods and sipping their wine out of long goblets. +They chattered gaily and tasted and pecked with dainty lips and turned-up +noses. The waiters ran here, there, like slaves. Those coaxing smells +stung like adders and roused evil thoughts in his brain. His stomach +fretted awfully and his empty head turned. + +He hurried away. + +In a street with windowless house-fronts, a street without people in it, +he felt better. He let his body lean against the iron post of a gas-lamp, +stuck his hands in his trouser-pockets and stood there looking at the +paving-stones. Now he was damned if he would take another step, he would +rather croak here like a beast; then they would have to take him up and +know that he existed. + +The boys coming from school mocked him; they danced in a ring, with him, +the big fellow, in the middle. They hung paper flags on his back and +sang: + + Hat, hat, + Ugly old hat! + It serves as a slop-pail and as a hat! + +He did not stir. + +Yon came a milk-maid driving up in a cart drawn by dogs. He got a gnawing +in his arms, a spout of blood shot to his head and he suddenly felt as if +something was going to happen. Just as she drove past, he put his great +hand on the edge of the little cart, with one pull took a copper can from +its straw, put it to his mouth and drank; then he sent the can clattering +through the window of the first-best house, till the panes rattled again. +Looking round--as if bewildered and set going, roused by what he had +done--he caught sight of the frightened little dairy-maid. A mocking grin +played on his cruel face; he flung his rough arm round her little body +and lifted the girl out of the cart right up to his face in a fierce hug. + +The boys had fled shrieking. He felt two pairs of hands pulling at his +sleeves from below. He loosed the girl and saw two policemen who held him +fast and ordered him to go with them. They held him by the arm on either +side and stepped hurriedly to keep pace with his great strides. They +looked in dismay at that huge fellow, with his wicked eyes, and then at +each other, as if to ask what they should do. + +They came to a narrow little street, with nobody in it, and stopped at a +public-house: + +"Could you do with a dram, mate?" they asked him. + +He looked bewildered, astounded. They all three went inside; and each of +them drank a big glass of gin. + +The policemen whispered something together; the elder wiped the drink +from his moustache and then said, very severely: + +"And now, clear out; hurry up! And mind your manners, will you, next +time!" + +He was outside once more, loafing on, along the houses. + + + + +V. SPRING + +Mother stood like a clucking hen among her red-cheeked youngsters. She +was holding a loaf against her fat stomach and, with a curved +pruning-knife, was cutting off good thick slices which the youngsters +snatched away one by one and stuffed into their pockets. Horieneke +fetched her basket of knitting and her school-books. She first pulled +Fonske's stocking up once more, buttoned Sarelke's breeches and wiped +Lowietje's nose; and, with an admonishing "Straight to school, do you +hear, boys?" from mother, the whole band rushed out of the door, through +the little flower-garden and up the broad unmetalled road, straight +towards the great golden sun which was rising yonder, far behind the +pollard alders, in a mighty fire of rays. It was cool outside; the sky +was bright blue streaked with glowing shafts aslant the hazy-white clouds +deep, deep in the heavens. Over the level fields, ever so far, lay a +stain of pale green and brown; and the slender stalks of the wheat stood +like needles, quivering in their glittering moisture. The trees were +still nearly bare; and their trunks and tops stood tall and black against +the clear sky; but, when you saw them together, in rows or little +clusters, there was a soft yellow-green colour over them, spotted with +gleaming buds ready to burst. A soft wind, just warm enough to thaw the +frost, worked its way into and through everything and made it all shake +and swarm till it was twisted full of restless, growing life. That wind +curled through the youngsters' tangled hair and coloured their round +cheeks cherry-red. They ran and romped through the dry sand, stamping +till it flew above their heads. They were mad with enjoyment. + +Trientje stood in the doorway, in her little shirt, with her stomach +sticking out, watching her brothers as they disappeared; and, when she +saw them no longer, she thrust her fists into her sockets, opened her +mouth wide and started a-crying, until mother's hands lifted her up by +the arms and mother's thick lips gave her a hearty kiss. + +Horieneke came walking step by step under the lime-trees, along the +narrow grass-path beside the sand, keeping her eyes fixed on the play of +her knitting-needles. When she reached the bridge that crossed the brook, +she looked round after her brothers. They had run down the slope and were +now trotting wildly one after the other through the rich brown grass, +pulling up all the white and yellow flowers, one by one, till their arms +were crammed with them. Horieneke took out her catechism, laid it open on +the low rail and sat there cheerfully waiting. Sarelke had crept through +the water-flags until he was close to the brook and, through the clear, +gleaming blue water, watched a little fish frisking about. In a moment, +his wooden shoes and his stockings were off and one leg was in the water, +trying it: it was cold; and he felt a shiver right down his back. Ripples +played on the smooth blue and widened out to the bank. The little fish +was gone, but so was the cold; and he saw more fish, farther away: quick +now, the other leg in the water! He pulled his breeches up high and there +he stood, with the water well above his knees, peering out for fish. The +water was clear as glass; and he saw swarms of them playing, darting +swiftly up and down, to and fro like arrows: they shot past in shoals +that held together like long snakes, in among the moss and the reeds and +between the stones, winding through slits and crannies. He shouted aloud +for joy. Bertje and Wartje and the others all had their stockings off and +stood in the water bending down to look, making funnels of their hands in +the water, where it rustled in little streams between two grass-sods +through which the fish had to pass. Whenever they felt one wriggling in +their hands they yelled and screamed and sprang out of the brook to put +it into their wooden shoes, which stood on the bank, scooped full of +water. There they loitered examining those beasties from close by: those +fish were theirs now; and they would let them swim about in the big tub +at home and give them a bit of their bread and butter every day, so that +they might grow into great big pike. And now back to the runnel for more. + +"Boys, I'll tell mother!" cried Horieneke. + +But they did not hear and just kept on as before. Fonske had not been +able to catch one yet and his fat legs were turning blue with the cold. +In front of him stood Bertje, stooping and peering into the water, with +his hands ready to grasp; and Fonske saw such a lovely little runnel from +his neck to halfway down his back, all bare skin. He carefully scooped +his hands full of water and let it trickle gently inside Bertje's shirt. +The boy growled; and Fonske, screaming with laughter, skipped out of the +brook. Now came a romping and stamping in the water, a dashing and +splashing with their hands till it turned to a rain of gleaming drops +that fell on their heads and wetted their clothes through and through. +And a bawling! And a plashing with their bare legs till the spray spouted +high over the bank. + +"The constable!" cried Horieneke. + +The sport was over. Like lightning they all sprang out of the brook, +caught up their wooden shoes with the little fish in them and ran as hard +as they could through the grass to the bridge. There only did they +venture to look round. Hurriedly they turned down their breeches, dried +their shiny cheeks and dripping hair with one another's handkerchiefs and +then marched all together through the sun and wind to school. + +In the village square they wandered about among the other boys, silently +showed their catch, hid their shoes in the hawthorn-hedge behind the +churchyard and stayed playing until schoolmaster's bell rang. + +Boys and girls, each on their own side, disappeared through the gate; and +the street was now silent as the grave. After a while, there came through +the open window of the school first a sort of buzzing and humming and +then a repetition in chorus, a rhythmical spelling aloud: b-u-t, but; +t-e-r, ter: butter; B-a, Ba; b-e-l, bel: Babel; ever on and more and more +noisily. In between it all, the sparrows chattered and chirped and +fluttered safely in the powdery sand of the playground. + +The sun was now high in the sky and the light glittered on the young +leaves, full of the glad life of youth and gleaming with gold. + +Horieneke, with a few more children, was in another school. They sat, the +boys on one side and the girls on the other, on long benches and were +wrapped up in studying their communion-book and listening to an old nun, +who explained it to them in drawling, snuffling tones. After that, they +had to say their lesson, one by one; and this all went so quietly, so +modestly, so easily, 'twas as if they had the open book before them. +Half-way through the morning, they went two and two through the village +to the church, where the priest was waiting to hear their catechism. This +also went quietly; and the questions and answers sounded hollow in that +empty church. + +Horieneke sat at the head of the girls; she had caught up almost half of +them because she always knew her lessons so well and listened so +attentively. She was allowed to lead the prayers and was the first +examined; then she sat looking at the priest and listening to what came +from his lips. He always gave her a kind smile and held her up to the +others as an example of good conduct. After the catechism, they had leave +to go and play in the convent-garden. In the afternoon, there were new +lessons to be learnt and new explanations; and then quietly home. + +So they lived quite secluded, alone, in their own little world of modesty +and piety, preparing for the great day. The other youngsters, who went +their several ways, felt a certain awe for these school-fellows who once +used to romp and fight with them and who were now so good, so earnest, so +neat in their clothes and so polite. The "first-communicants:" the word +had something sacred about it which they respected; and the little ones +counted on their fingers how many years they would have to wait before +they too were learning their catechism and having leave to play in the +convent-garden. + +To her brothers Horieneke had now become a sacred thing, like a guardian +angel who watched over them everywhere; and they dared do no mischief +when she was by. She no longer played with them after school; she was now +their "big sister," to whom they softly whispered the favours which they +wished to get out of mother. + +When Trientje saw her sister coming home in the distance, she put out her +little arms and then would not let her go. For mother, Horieneke had to +wash the dishes, darn the stockings and, when the baby cried, sit for +hours rocking it in the cradle or dandling it on her lap, like a little +young mother. + +Holding Trientje by the hand and carrying the other on her arm, she would +walk along the paths of the garden and then put them both down on the +bench in the box arbour, while she tended the plants and shrubs that were +beginning to shoot. + +In the evening, when the bell rang for benediction, she called all her +little brothers and they went off to church together. From every side +came wives in hooded cloaks and lads in wooden shoes that stamped on the +great floor till it echoed in the silent nave. + +The choir was a semicircular, homely little chapel, with narrow pointed +windows, black at this hour, like deep holes, with leads outlining saints +in shapeless dark patches of colour. The altar was a mass of burning +candles; and a flickering gleam fell on the brass candlesticks, the +little gold leaves and the artificial flowers and on the corners of the +silver monstrance, which stood glittering high up in a little white satin +house. All of this was clouded in a blue smoke which rose from the holes +of the censer continuously swung to and fro by the arm of a roguish +serving-boy. Far at the back, in the dark, in the black stripes of shadow +cast by the pillars or under the cold bright patch of a lamp or a stand +of votive candles was an old wife, huddled under her hood, with bent +back, praying, and here and there a troop of boys who by turns dropped +their wooden shoes or fought with one another's rosaries. + +Near the communion-bench knelt Horieneke, her eyes wide open, full of +brightness and gladness and ecstacy, face to face with Our Lord. The +incense smelt so good and the whole little church was filled with the +trailing chords of the organ and with soft, plaintive Latin chant. Her +lips muttered automatically and the beads glided through her fingers: +numbered Hail Marys like so many roses that were to adorn her heart +against the coming of the great God. Her thoughts wafted her up to Heaven +in that wide temple full of glittering lights where, against the high +walls full of pedestals and niches, the saints, all stiff with gold and +jewels, stood smiling under their haloes and the nimble angels flew all +around on their white-plaster wings. She had something to ask of every +one of them and they received her prayer in turns. When the priest stood +up in his gleaming silver cope, climbed the three steps and took the +Blessed Sacrament in his white hands to give the benediction; when the +bell tinkled and the censer flew on high and the organ opened all its +throats and the glittering monstrance slowly made a cross in the air and +above the heads of the worshippers, she fell forward over her +praying-stool and lay like that, swooning in mute adoration, until all +was silent again, the candles out and she sitting alone there in the dark +with a few black shapes of cloaked women who wandered discreetly from one +station of the Cross to the next. Outside she heard her brothers playing +in the church-square. There she joined the little girls of her school; +and, arm in arm, they walked along past the dark houses and the silent +trees, each whispering her own tale: about her new dress, her veil, her +white shoes, her long taper with golden bows; about flowers and beads and +prayers.... + +After supper, Horieneke had to rock the baby to sleep, while mother moved +about, and then to say the evening prayers out loud, after which they all +of them went to bed. On reaching her little bedroom, she visited all the +prints and images hanging on the walls. She then undressed and listened +whether any one was still awake or up. Next she carefully crept down the +three stairs[6] in her little shift and clambered up the ladder to the +loft, where all her little brothers lay playing in a great box-bed. They +knew that she would come and had kept a place for her in the middle. She +sank deep in the straw and, when they all lay still, she went on with the +tale which she had broken off yesterday half-way. It was all made up of +long, long stories out of _The Golden Legend_ and wonderful adventures of +far beyond the sea in unknown lands. She told it all so prettily, so +leisurely; and the children listened like eager little birds. High up in +the dusk of the rafters they saw all those things happening before their +eyes in the black depths and saw the mad fairy-dance there, until they +dreamed off for good and all and Horieneke was left the only one awake, +still telling her story. Then she crept carefully back to her room and +into bed, where she lay counting: how many more days, how many times +sleeping and getting up and how many more lessons to learn ... and then +the great day! The great day! Slowly she made all the days, with their +special happenings, appear before her eyes; and she enjoyed beforehand +all those beautiful things which had kept her so long a-longing. When, in +her thoughts, it came to Saturday evening and at last, slowly--like a box +with something wonderful inside which you daren't open--to that Sunday +morning, then her heart began to flutter, a thrill ran through her body +and, so that she shouldn't weep for gladness, she bit her lips, squeezed +her hands between her knees and rubbed them until the ecstasy was passed +and she again lay smiling in supreme content and shivering with delight. + +[6] The bedroom behind the kitchen or living-room, in the Flemish + cottages, is over the cellar; but this cellar is not entirely + underground and is lighted by a very low window at the back. + Consequently, the floor of the bedroom is a little higher than that + of the living-room and is approached by a flight of two or three + steps. + +Time dragged on; cold weather came and rain and it seemed as if it never +would be summer. And that constant repetition of getting up and going to +bed and learning her lessons and counting the hours and the minutes +became so dreary and seemed to go round and round in an endless circle. + +To-day at last was the long-awaited holiday when Horieneke might go into +town with mother to buy clothes. Her heart throbbed; and she walked +beside mother, with eyes wide-open, looking round at every window, up one +street and down another, crying aloud each time for joy when she saw +pretty things displayed. They bought white slippers with little bows, a +splendid wreath of white lilies of the valley, a great veil of woven +lace, a white-ivory prayer-book, a mother-of-pearl rosary with a little +glass peep-hole in the silver crucifix, showing all manner of pretty +things. Horieneke sighed with happiness. Mother haggled and bargained, +said within herself that it was "foolishness to waste all that money," +but bought and went on buying; and, every time something new went into +the big basket, it was: + +"Don't tell father what it cost, Rieneke!" + +All those pretty things were locked away in the bedroom at home and hung +up in the oak press, while father was still at work. + +On another evening, when mother and Horieneke were alone at home, the +seamstress brought the new clothes: a whole load of white muslin in stiff +white folds full of satin bows and ribbons and white lace. They had to be +tried on; and Horieneke stood there, for the first time in her life, all +in white, like an angel. But the happiness lasted only for a spell: there +came a noise and every one in the room fled and the clothes were hastily +taken off and put away. + +Every day, when the boys were at school and father in the fields, +neighbours came to look at the clothes. Piece after piece was carefully +taken out of the press and spread out for show on the great bed. The +wives felt and tested the material, examined the tucks and seams and the +knots and the lining, the bows and ribbons and clapped their hands +together in admiration. It became known all over the village that +Horieneke would be the finest of all in the church. + +The counted days crept slowly by, the sun climbed higher every day and +the mornings and evenings lengthened. Things out of doors changed and +grew as you looked: the young green stood twinkling on every hand; the +fields lay like coloured carpets, sharply outlined; and the trees grew +long, pale branches with leaves which stood out like stately plumes +against the sky, so full of youth and freshness and free from dust as yet +and tender. In course of time, white buds came peeping, gleaming amid the +delicate young leaves, till all looked like a spotted altar-cloth: a +promising splendour of white blossoms. Here and there in the garden an +early flower came creeping out. Yonder, in the dark-blue wood, patches of +brown and of pale colour stood out clearly, with a whole variety of vivid +hues. And it had all come so unexpectedly, all of a sudden, as though, by +some magic of the night, it was all set forth to adorn and grace a great +festival. + +In the fields, the folk were hard at work. The land was turned up and +torn and broken by the gleaming plough and lay steaming in purple clods +in the sun's life-giving rays. Everything swarmed with life and movement. +The houses were done up and coated with fresh whitewash, the shutters +painted green, till it all shouted from afar in a glad mosaic, with the +blue of the sky and the young leafage of the trees, under the brown, +moss-grown roofs. + +And the days crept on, each counted and marked off: so many white stripes +on the rafters and black stripes on the almanack; they fell away one by +one and the Saturday came, the long-expected eve of the great Sunday. +Quite early, before sunrise, the linen hung outside, the white smocks and +shirts waving, like fluttering pennons, from the clothes-lines in the +white orchard. Horieneke also was up betimes and helping mother in her +work. From top to bottom everything had to be altered and done over again +and cleansed. It was only with difficulty that she got to school. The +last time! To-day, the great examination of conscience, the general +confession and the communion-practice; and, to-night, everything to be +laid out ready for to-morrow morning: all this kept running anyhow +through her head and among the lines of her lesson-book. + +Half-way through the morning they went to church. The children there all +looked so glad, so happy and so clean and neat in their second-best +clothes and so nicely washed. They now made their confessions for the +last time; and it all went so pleasantly: they had done no wrong for such +a long while and all their sins had already been forgiven two or three +times over, yesterday and the day before. They sat in two long rows +waiting their turns and thinking over, right away back to their far-off +babyhood, whether nothing had been forgotten or omitted: their little +hearts must be quite stainless now and pure. When they were tired of +examining their consciences, they fell to praying, with their eyes fixed +upon the saint who stood before them on his pedestal, or else watched the +other youngsters going in and out by turns. + +The little church looked its best, neat as a new pin: the floor was +freshly scrubbed and the chairs placed side by side in straight rows; the +brasswork shone like gold; and a new communion-cloth hung, like a +snow-white barrier, in front of the sanctuary. The velvet banners were +stripped of their linen covers; and the blue vases, with bright flowers +and silver bunches of grapes, were put out on the altar, as on +feast-days. And all of this was for to-morrow! And for them! + +All the time it was deathly still, with not a sound but that of the +youngsters going in and out of the creaking confessional. Now and then +the church-door flapped open and banged to, when one of the children had +finished and went away. Their little souls were white as new-fallen snow +and bedight with indulgences and prayers. On their faces lay the fresh +innocence of babes brought to baptism or of laughing angels' heads and in +their wide eyes everything was reflected festively and at its best; they +felt so light and lived on little but longing and a holy fear of their +own worthiness: that great, incredible thing of the morrow was suddenly +going to change them from children into grown-up people! + +They just gave themselves time to have their dinners in a hurry; and then +back to school, where they were to learn how to receive communion. A few +benches placed next to one another represented the communion-rails; and +there they practised the whole afternoon: with studied piety, their hands +folded and their heads bowed, they learnt how to genuflect, how to rise, +how to approach in ranks and return at a sign from the old nun, who +tapped with a key on the arm of her chair each time that a new row of +youngsters had to start, kneel or go back. In a short time this went as +exactly, as evenly as could be, just like soldiers drilling. Finally, +they had to recite once more their acts of faith, adoration and +thanksgiving; and Horieneke and the first of the little boys had to write +out on large sheets of paper the preparation and thanks which they had +learnt by heart, to be read to-morrow in church. After that, they were +drawn up in line and silently and mysteriously led into the convent. + +The children held their breath and walked carefully down long passages, +between high, white walls, past closed doors with inscriptions in Gothic +letters and a smell of clean linen and apples: ever on and on, through +more passages, till they reached a large hall full of chairs where Mother +Prioress--a fat and stately nun, with her great big head covered by her +cap and her hands in her sleeves--sat upon a throne. They had to file +past her, one by one, with a low bow, and then sit down. + +Mother Prioress settled herself in her seat, coughed and, in a rich, +throaty voice, began by telling the youngsters how they were to address +Our Lord; told stories of children who had become saints; and she ended +by slowly and cautiously producing a little glass case in which a thorn +out of Our Lord's crown lay exposed on a red-velvet cushion. And then +they were sent home. + +On the way, Horieneke came upon her brothers playing in the sand. They +had scooped it up in their wooden shoes and poured it into a heap in the +middle of the road and then wetted it; and now they were boring all sorts +of holes in it and tunnels and passages and making it into a +rats'-castle. She let them be, gathered up her little skirts, so as not +to dirty them, and passed by on one side. + +Mother was up to her elbows in the golden dough of the cakebread, +stirring and beating and patting the jumble of eggs and flour and milk. +Horieneke took the crying baby out of the cradle, shaking and tossing it +in the air, and went into the garden just outside the door. The golden +afternoon sun lay all around and everything was radiant with translucid +green. The little path lay neatly raked and the yellow daffodils stood, +like brass trumpets, closely ranked on their stalks; under the shrubs +bright violets peeped out with raised eyebrows, like the grinning faces +of little old wives. The whole garden was filled with a scent of fresh +jasmine and a cool fragrance of cherry-blossom and peach. + +It was all so still and peaceful that Horieneke, who had begun to sing, +stopped in the middle and stood listening to the chaffinches and siskins +chattering pell-mell. + +From there she went to her little bedroom, laid the child on her bed and +drew the curtains before the window which let in the sun in a thousand +slender beams of dusty light. The pictures and images gleamed on the wall +and the saints seemed to smile with happiness in that cool air, fragrant +of gillyflowers and white jasmine. She took out her new prayer-book, +flicked the silver clasp open and shut and played with the little shaft +of light which the gilt edge sent running all round the white walls. Then +she stood musing for a long time, gazing out through the little curtains +at those white trees in blossom, around and above which the golden pollen +danced, and at all that huge green field and the everlasting sun and all +the blue on the horizon. And, feeling tired, she laid her head on the bed +beside the baby and lingered there, dreaming of all the delight and +beauty of the morrow. + +Mother called her and Horieneke came down. Mam'selle Julie was there, who +had promised to come and curl the child's hair. Mam'selle put on a great +apron and began to undress Horieneke; then a great tub of rain-water was +carried in and the girl was scrubbed and washed with scented soap till +the whole tub was full of suds. Her head was washed as well and her hair +plaited into little braids, which were rolled up one by one and wound in +curl-papers and fastened to her head, under a net. Her cheeks and neck +shone like transparent china with the rosy blood coursing underneath. +When she was done, Mam'selle Julie went off to the other communicants. + +The boys were lying on their backs, under the walnut-tree, talking, when +Horieneke came past. They looked at the funny twists on her head and went +on talking: Wartje longed most of all to put on his new breeches; Fonske +was glad that Uncle Petrus was coming to-morrow and Aunt Stanske and +Cousin Isidoor; Bertje because of the dog-cart[7] and the dogs and the +chance of a ride; Wartje because of all that aunt would bring with her in +her great wicker basket; and Dolfke longed for father to come home from +work, so that he might help to clean the rabbits. + +[7] The Flemish low-wheeled cart drawn by dogs. + +The sun played with the gold in the leaves of the walnut-tree; and the +radiant tree-top was all aswarm and astir and little golden shafts were +shooting in all directions. The first butterfly of the year rocked like a +white flower through the air. + +"I smell something!" said Dolfke. + +They all sniffed and: + +"Mates! They're taking the cake-bread out of the oven!" + +They rushed indoors one on top of the other. On the table lay four +golden-yellow brown-crusted loaves, as big as cart-wheels, steaming till +the whole house smelt of them. + +"First let it cool! Then you can eat it," said mother and gave each of +them a flat scone. + +"Yes, mother." + +And they trotted round the kitchen holding their treasures high above +their heads and screaming with delight. + +Behind the elder-hedge they heard father's voice humming: + + When the sorrel shows, + 'Tis then the month of May, O!... + +They ran to him, took the tools out of his hands and: + +"Father, the rabbits! The rabbits now, father?" + +"Will it be fine weather to-morrow?" asked Horieneke. + +"For sure, child: just see how clear the sun is setting." + +He pointed to the west; and the boys stood on tip-toe to see the sinking, +dull-glowing disk hang glittering in its gulf of orange cloud-reefs, +pierced through and through with bright rays that melted away high in the +pale blue and grey, while that disk hung there so calmly, as though +frozen into the sky for ever. + +Father had one or two things to do and then the boys might come along to +the rabbits. + +"The two white ones, eh, father?" + +Father nodded yes; and Sarelke and Dolfke skipped along the boards to the +hutch and came back each carrying a long white rabbit by the ears. + +Dolfke held his close to the ground, hidden behind a tree, so that it +shouldn't see the other's blood and foresee its own death. While father +was sharpening his knife, Fonske took a cord and tied the hind-legs of +Sarelke's rabbit and hung it, head down, on a nail under the eaves. +Father struck it behind the ears so that it was dazed and, rolling its +eyes, remained hanging stock-still. Before it had time to scream, the +knife was in its neck and the throat was cut open. A little stream of +dark blood trickled to the ground and clotted; and some of it hung like +an icicle from the beard, which dripped incessantly with red drops. + +Fonske carefully put his finger to the rabbit's nose and licked off a +drop of blood. + +"It's going home," said Sarelke. + +"Is it dead, father?" sighed Wartje. + +"Stone-dead, my boy." + +He ripped one buttock with his knife and pulled off the skin; then the +other, so that the blue flesh was laid bare and the little purple veins. +One more tug and the creature hung disfigured beyond all knowledge, in +its bare buttocks and its fat, bulging paunch, with its head all over +blood and its eyes sticking out. The belly and breast were cut open from +end to end and the guts removed; the gall-bladder was flung into the +cess-pool; two bits of stick, to keep the hind-legs and the skin of the +stomach apart, and the thing was done. The other was treated likewise; +and the two rabbits hung skinned and cleaned, stiffening high up on the +gable-end. + +Meanwhile mother had got supper ready: a heap of steaming potatoes +soaking in melted butter and, after that, bread-and-butter and a pan of +porridge. Horieneke, by way of a treat, got a couple of eggs and a slice +of the new cakebread; and she sat enjoying this at the small table. After +supper, the boys had to be washed and cleaned. They started undressing +here and undressing there; serge breeches and jackets flew over the +floor; and one after the other they were taken in hand by mother, beside +a kettle of water, where they were rubbed and rinsed with foaming +soap-suds. Then each was given a clean shirt; and away to bed with them! +They jumped and, with their shirt-tails waving behind them, skipped about +and smacked one another until father came along and stopped their game. +Mother had still her floor to scrub; and Horieneke read out evening +prayers while the boys knelt beside their bed. + +Now all grew still. Father smoked a pipe and took a stroll in the +moonlight through the orchard, where he had always something to look +after or to do. Indoors the broom went steadily over the floor; whole +kettlefuls of water were poured out and swept away and rubbed dry. Then +the stove was lit; and, while mother blacked the shoes, father made the +coffee. They mumbled a bit together--about to-morrow's doings, about the +children, the work, the hard times and their troublesome landlord, the +farmer of the woodside--when there came a noise from the little bedroom +and the door creaked softly. Horieneke suddenly appeared in the middle of +the floor in her little nightgown; and, before father and mother had got +over their surprise, the child was on her knees, asking: + +"Forgive me, father and mother, for all the wrong that I have done you in +my life; and I promise you now to be always good and obedient...." + +Mother was furious at first; and then, at the sight of the kneeling +figure and the sound of the tearful little voice, her anger fell and she +felt like crying. Father hated all that sentimental rubbish: + +"Come, you baggage, quick to bed!... Forgive you? What for?... Nonsense, +nonsense!" + +The child kept on weeping: + +"Father, please, it's my first communion to-morrow and we must first +receive forgiveness: Sister at school said so...." + +"The sisters at school are mad! And they'll make you mad too! To bed with +you now, d'you hear?" + +Mother could stand it no longer; she sobbed aloud, took Horieneke under +the arms and lifted her to her breast. She felt a lump in her throat and +could hardly get out her words: + +"It's all forgiven, my darling. God bless you and keep you! And now go +quick to bed; you have to be up early to-morrow." + +Horieneke put her arm over mother's shoulders and whispered softly in her +ear: + +"I have something else to ask you, mother. All the children's parents are +going to communion to-morrow: shall you too, mother?" + +"Make your heart easy, dear; it'll be all right." + +"Mother, will you call me in good time to-morrow morning?" + +"Yes, yes; go to bed." + +The house grew quiet as the grave; and soon a manifold snoring and +grunting sounded all through the bedroom and the loft. Outside it was +twilight and the blossoms shone pale white in the orchard. The crickets +chirped far and near.... + +This was the last evening and morning: when it was once more so late and +dark, everything would be over and done! All those days, all that long +array of light and darkness, of learning and repeating lessons--a good +time nevertheless--was past and gone; and, now that the great thing, +always so remote, so inaccessible, was close at hand, she was almost +sorry that the longing and the aching were to cease and she almost felt +afraid. Should she dare to sleep to-night? No. 'Twas so good to lie awake +thinking; and she had still so much praying to do: her heart was still +far from ready and prepared. + +"O God, I am a poor little child and Thou art willing to come to me.... +Dear Virgin Mary, make my soul as pure as snow, so that it may become a +worthy dwelling-place for thy Divine Son." + +The white dress now lay spread out upon the best bed in the big bedroom +and her wreath too, with all the rest. She already saw herself clad in +all that white wealth like a little queen, standing laughing through her +golden curls! She felt the little knots of paper on her head; to-morrow +they would be released and would open into a cloud of ringlets; and the +people, who would all look at her; and aunt.... Now just to recite her +words once more for to-morrow in church.... And that pretty picture which +the priest would give her.... Was she sure that nothing was forgotten? +Just let her think again: and her candle-cloth? Yes, that was there +too.... What could the time be? The clock was ticking like a heavy chap's +footstep downstairs in the kitchen. It was deathly quiet everywhere. Now +she would lie and wait until the clock struck, so that she might know how +long it would be before it grew light. Her eyes were so tired and all +sorts of things were walking higgledy-piggledy up the white wall.... + +Then, in the solemn stillness, the nightingale began to sing. Three clear +notes rang out from the echoing coppice; it was like the voice of the +organ in a great church. It sounded over the fields, to die away in a +low, hushed fluting. Now, louder and staccato, like a spiral stair of +metallic sound, the notes rang out, high and low alternately, in +quickening time, a running, rustling and rioting, with long-drawn +pipings, wonderfully sweet, that rose in a storm of bell-like tinklings, +limpid as water, with a strength, a violence, a precision exceeding the +music of a hundred thousand tipsy carrillons pealing through the silent +night. And now again the notes were softly weaving their fabric of sound: +bewitchingly quiet, intimately sweet, musingly careful, like the music of +tiny glass bells; and once more they were louder and again they fainted +away, borne on the still wind like the murmur of angels praying. + +The blue velvety canopy was stretched on high, studded with twinkling +stars; and all about the country-side the trees stood white. On the +winding paths, among the pinks, anemones, guelder-roses and +jasmine-bushes, walked stately white figures in trailing garments, with +wreaths of white roses and yellow flowers gleaming on their golden +tresses, which they shook out over their white shoulders. All the world +was one pure vista full of blue, curling mist and fresh, untasted +fragrance. A soft melody of dreamy song was wafted through the air. And +Horieneke saw herself also playing in that great garden, an angel among +angels. Ropes hung stretched from tree to tree; and they swung upon them +and rocked with streaming hair and fluttering garments, floating high +above the tree-tops, light as the wind, in a shower of white blossoms. +They sang all together, with those who lay on the beds of white lilies +and violets: a song of unheard sweetness. Not one spoke of leaving off or +going home; they only wished to stay like that, without rain or darkness; +there was a continual happy frolic, a glad gaiety, in those spacious +halls where, in spite of the singing and the music, all things were yet +so deliciously, languidly still, still as the moonlight. + +Yonder, by the dark wood, the steady swish of a sickle was heard; and +this made a fearsome noise in the tenuous night. A gigantic man stood +there; his head looked over the trees and his wide-stretched arms swung +the sickle and a pick-hook; and, stroke by stroke, the foliage and the +flowers fell beneath his hands as he passed. The singing gradually +ceased, the swings fell slack and the frolic changed into an anxious +waiting, as before thunder. One and all stood in terror and dismay +staring at that giant approaching. The blue of the sky darkened and the +angels vanished, like lamps that were blown out. The flowers were faded +and the whole plain lay mown flat, like a stricken wilderness; and that +fellow with his sickle, who now drew himself up to contemplate his +finished work, was ... her father! + +She started awake and trembled with fright. It had been so beautiful that +she sighed at the thought of it; and outside was the twilight of +advancing dawn. It was daylight! Sunday! She jumped out of bed in a flash +and pulled open the window. The trees were there still and the flowers +too and all the white of last night, but so pale, dim and colourless +beside the glittering brightness of a moment ago ... and never an angel! +She gave a sigh. The sky was hung with a thick grey shroud; and in the +east a long thin cleft had been torn in the grey; and behind that, deep +down, was a dull-golden glow, gleaming like a great brazen serpent. A +keen wind shook the cherry-blossom and blew a cold, fragrant air into the +window. All the green distance lay dead as yet, half-hidden, asleep in +the morning mist; and neither man nor beast was visible, nor even a +wreath of smoke from a chimney. + +What was the time? She threw a wrap over her shoulders, which were +getting chilled, and went carefully down the bedroom steps. It was still +dark in the kitchen. She groped, found and lit a sulphur match and lifted +the flame to the clock. Four! She was so much used to seeing the hands in +that position in the afternoon and they now looked so silly that she +stood for a long time thinking, foolishly, what she ought to do: call +mother or creep back into bed and sleep. She felt so uncomfortably cold +and it was still so dark: she went up again and stood looking out. + +The birds twittered in the trees and the wide cleft in the east yawned +wider and wider. Was it going to be a fine day after all? Everything for +which she had waited so long was there now and so strange, so totally +different from what she had imagined: instead of that leaping gladness +there was something like fear and nervous trembling; she could have wept; +and, merely for the sake of doing something, she went down on her knees +beside the bed and said the prayers which she had learnt by heart: + +"Lord God, I give Thee my heart. Deign to make Thyself a worthy dwelling +in it and to abide there all the days of my life...." + +The clock struck; it was half-past four and no one yet astir. + +Now she went downstairs again. In the room lay her white dress, her +wreath, her prayer-book: it was all ready; if only somebody would wake! +Dared she call? They lay sleeping side by side: father was snoring, with +his mouth open, and mother's fat stomach and breasts rose and fell +steadily. + +"Mother!" + +Nobody heard. + +"Mother!!" + +And then she pulled at the coverlet and cried repeatedly, a little louder +each time: + +"Mother! Mother!! Mother!!!" + +That was better. Mother turned on her side, lifted her head and rubbed +her eyes with her hands. + +"Mother, it's nearly five; we shall be late!" + +Mother, drunk with sleep, kept on looking at the window and yawning: + +"Yes, child, I'll come at once." + +She got up and came out in her short blue petticoat stretched round her +fat hips, with an open slit behind, and her loose jacket and wooden shoes +on. She lit the stove. Horieneke read her morning prayers. Mother's heavy +shoes clattered over the floor outside and in again; she put on and took +off the iron pots with the goats' food, drew fresh water and made the +coffee. + +Mam'selle Julie was coming along the rough road. + +"You're in good time!" cried mother from the doorway. + +"Good-morning, Frazie. Up already, Horieneke? It'll be a fine day +to-day." + +She took off her hooded cloak, put on a clean apron and turned up her +sleeves. Horieneke was washed all over again while mother poured out the +coffee. Then they sat down. Horieneke kept her lips tight-closed so as +not to forget that she must remain fasting. She slowly pulled on her new +stockings and stretched out her hand to the bench on which the white +slippers lay. She took off her sleeping-jacket and her little skirt and +stood waiting in her shift. When the tongs were well warmed, Mam'selle +Julie seized the little paper twists in the hot iron and opened them out. +From each fold a curled tress came rolling down; and at last, combed out +and bound up with blue-silk ribbon, it all stood about her head in a +light mist of pale-gold silk, like a wreath of light around her bright, +fresh face. Her dirty shift was dragged off downwards and mother fetched +the new scapular and laid it over the child's bare shoulders. The +first-communion chemise was of fine white linen and trimmed with crochet +lace. Julie took out the folds and drew it over Horieneke's head. Then +came white petticoats, bodices and skirts. The child stood passively, in +the middle of the floor, with her arms wide apart to give free room to +Julie, who crept round on her knees, sticking in a pin here, smoothing a +crease there. Mother fetched the things as they were wanted. There was a +constant discussing, approving, asking if it wouldn't meet or if it hung +too wide, all in a whisper, so as not to wake the boys. + +There came a scrabbling overhead and down the stairs; and, before any one +suspected it, Bertje stood dancing round Horieneke in his shirt. + +"Jesu-Maria! Oo, you rascal!" + +And the corset which mother held in her hand was sent flying up the +stairs after the boy, who in three jumps was gone and up above. The +others lay laughing in bed when Bertje told them that he had seen +Horieneke all in white, with a bunch of red-gold curls round her head, +and that mother had thrown something at him. + +The corset was laced up and Mam'selle Julie told the child to hold her +breath to let them get her body tighter. Now for the white frock: the +skirt was slipped down over her head until it stood out in light, stiff +pleats; the white bodice encased her body firmly and stuck out above the +shoulders, its puffed sleeves trimmed with little white-satin bows and +ribbons at every seam and fold. Over it hung the veil, which shrouded her +as in a white cloud. The wreath was put on, looked at from a distance and +put on again until it was right at last, with the glittering beads in +front, shining among the auburn curls, and the long streamer of threaded +lilies of the valley behind, nestling in the tresses on her back. The +white gloves, her prayer-book and candle-cloth, a few pennies in her bead +purse; and 'twas done. + +The child was constantly twisted and turned and examined from every side. +She did not know herself in all her splendour: the Horieneke of +yesterday, in her blue bird's-eye bib and black frock was a poor thing +compared with the present Horieneke, something far removed from this +white apparition, something quite forgotten. She stood stiff as a post in +the middle of the kitchen, without daring to look round or stir; she felt +so light and airy in those rustling folds and pleats and all that muslin +that she seemed not to touch the ground. She did not know what to do with +her arms, how to tread with her feet; and her thoughts were straying: the +part she had to play was all gone out of her head; she would be as fine +as this all day long, but oh, so uncomfortable! + +Mother put on stockings and shoes, donned her cap, turned her apron, +threw her cloak over her shoulders; she called her husband; then: + +"There, boys, we're off; don't forget your drop of holy water, all of +you!" + +The door fell back into the latch with a bang; and the three of them were +on the road. A gust of wind laden with white blossoms out of the orchard +greeted them. Horieneke held the tips of her veil closed against the wind +and stepped out like a little maid in a procession. The two women came +behind and had no eyes for anything but Horieneke: the fall of those +white folds, the whirling of the veil and the dancing of the lilies of +the valley in the auburn locks. They said nothing. + +The sky still hung grey with its yawning cleft widening in the east; and +out of it there beamed a sober, uncertain light, which fell upon +everything with a dead gleam: it was like noonday in winter. Over the +fields and in the trees drifted thin wisps of mist, like floating blue +veils blown on by the wind. Below in the meadow the cock had started +crowing amid his flock of peacefully pecking pullets. It was very fresh, +rather cold indeed, out on the high road. + +All the little paths led to the church; and in every direction, along the +flat fields, came people in their very best, with little white maids. The +wind played in their white veils and set them waving and flapping like +wet flags. + +"The children'll have good weather," said Mam'selle Julie; and, a little +later, to Horieneke, "What are you going to ask of Our Lord now, dear?" + +"Oh, so much, so much, Mam'selle Julie! I myself hardly know.... For +father and mother and all the family and that I may always be a good girl +and stay at home with them and not fall among wicked people and that we +may all live a long time and go to Heaven...." + +"And that the harvest may succeed and we be able to pay the rent ... and +for the farmer ... and that father may keep in health and be fit to +work," mother ordered. + +They reached the village. Mother remained waiting among the folk in the +street; Horieneke, with the other youngsters, went through the +school-gates where their wax tapers stood burning above the bunches of +gold flowers and leaves shining in the warm light. The children looked at +one another's clothes, whispered in one another's ears what theirs had +cost and wrangled as to which looked the prettiest. The boys vied with +one another in showing their bright pennies and their steel watch-chains. + +The procession filed out: first the acolytes, in scarlet, with gleaming +crucifix, brass candle-sticks and censer, followed by boys and girls +symbolically dressed, a lilting dance of flags and banners in brilliant +colours. Next came the priest, in a gorgeous vestment stiff with silk and +silver thread and gold tracery; and, in two rows, on either side of the +street, preceded by four little angels with gold wings, the +first-communicants, really such on this occasion, in their proper +clothes, with the great wax tapers in their white-gloved hands and a glow +in their faces and laughter in their eyes. All the people crowded after +them, through the street to the church. The bells rang out, the priest +sang with the sacristan and the whole procession triumphantly entered the +wide church-doors. There was a mighty stamping and pushing to get near +and to see the children sitting in straight rows on the front benches of +the nave. The girls settled in their clothes and the boys looked down at +their stiff, wide cloth breeches and their new shoes, or shoved their +fingers up their noses or into their tight collar-bands. The organ droned +out a mighty prelude; the priest, all in gold, stood at the altar; the +ceremony began; the people were silent and prayed over their +prayer-books. + +The sun appeared! And green and red and yellow shafts of light slanted +through the stained-glass panes and mingled with the blue +incense-wreaths. They made the corners of the brasswork shine and brought +smiles to the faces of the saints in their niches. A splash of gold fell +on the curly heads of the children, dark and fair; and tiny rays flashed +upon the gilt edges of their prayer-books. The congregation prayed +diligently and the full voices sang the joyful _Gloria in excelsis_ with +the organ. + +After the Gospel, the priest hung up his chasuble on the stand and +mounted the pulpit. After a noisy shifting of chairs and dragging of feet +and coughing, the people sat still, with their faces turned to the +priest. He began by reading out the notices in a snuffling tone: the +intentions of the masses for the ensuing week; the names of those about +to be married or lately deceased. Then he waited, cast his eyes over that +level multitude of raised heads, pulled up his white sleeves and turned +his face towards the children. His drawling voice wished them +_proficiat_. + +It was the first time in their lives that the youngsters saw that face +turned expressly towards them from a pulpit and also the first time that +they listened to the sermon with attention. They kept their eyes fixed on +the priest so as not to lose a word. The great day had arrived; a few +moments more and they would be completing the solemn task, they, small +children, the task that was denied to the pure angels in heaven. + +"And that work must be the foundation on which all your future life is +based. Your souls are now so clean, so pure, they are shining like clear +water and are quite spotless. For years we have taught and instructed and +prepared you in order to teach your virgin hearts, this day, now, in this +beautiful chapel, to receive that strengthening food, that miracle of +God's love. Remember it always: this is the happiest day of your lives! +You are still innocent and about to receive the Bread that raises the +dead, cleanses sinners and purifies the fallen. You are still in your +first youth, without experience of life, and are already allowed to +approach the Holy Table and share the strengthening food that supports +men and women in the trials of life. This also is the propitious moment, +the mighty hour in which Our Lord can refuse you nothing that you ask +Him. So make use of it, ask Him much, ask Him everything: for your +parents and your masters, who have done so much for you, for your +pastors, your village and especially for yourselves, that He may keep you +from sin and continue to dwell in your hearts and allow you to grow up +into stout champions of the faith and of your religion. It is the +happiest day of your lives. You are here now, to-day, with your bright, +clear eyes, young and beautiful as angels; we have watched over you, +sheltered you against all that could have harmed or offended your +innocence, far from the corrupt world of whose existence you have not +even known. But to-morrow you will enter the wide world, with only your +weak flesh to fight against life's dangers: depravity, falsehood, lies +and sin. Now life will begin for you, now for the first time will you be +called upon to fight, to show courage and to stand firm. How many of +those who once sat where you are now sitting and who were pure and +innocent as yourselves have now, alas, become lost sinners, Judases who +have rejected their God, devils as roaring lions going about seeking whom +they may devour! Be strong, listen to your good parents: it is to them +alone that you will have to listen henceforth...." + +He turned round to the other side and, continuing with the same rise and +fall in his voice, the same gestures of his thin right arm, with the +flowing white sleeve, and the same movement of his sharp profile high up +above the congregation, he began once more: + +"To you, fathers and mothers, I also wish a cordial _proficiat_; for you +also this is a glad and memorable day. How long is it not since you were +kneeling there! And yet that day always lingers in your memory. Since +that time you have been plunged into the world, have had to struggle and +have perhaps fallen and more than once have known your courage fail you. +Now your children are sitting there! For years you have left them to our +care and to-day we give them back to you, instructed, enriched and +supplied with all that they can need to pass onward. You receive them +this day from our hands pure and innocent as on the day of their baptism. +It is for you henceforth to preserve and to maintain that virtue and +purity in them; it is for you to bring up these children so that later +they may be exemplary Christians. See to it that your own conduct edifies +them: it is according to you and all your actions that they will order +their lives and take example. Admonish them in good season and chastise +them when necessary: 'He that spareth the rod hateth his son,' says the +Holy Ghost. And keep your eyes open, for God will ask an account of your +stewardship and will reward or punish you according as you have brought +them up well or ill. A good son, a virtuous daughter are the joy and the +comfort of their parents." + +The congregation were greatly impressed. The mothers wept: the priest was +such a good, worthy old man, whom they had known all their lives; and +they liked hearing him say all those beautiful things: that reference to +their own childhood and to their youngsters, whom they now saw sitting +there so good and saintlike, waiting to receive Our Lord, brought the +tears to their eyes; and it did them good to feel their hearts throb, to +feel that lump in their throats; and they let the tears flow: after all, +it was from gladness. + +The organ played softly and the changing tones mingled with the blue +wreaths that ascended from the sanctuary in a fragrant cloud, lingering +over the congregation. The celebrant offered the bread and wine to Our +Father in Heaven. And all this took time; the children were tired by +their tense concentration; their prayers had all been said two and three +times over; and they were now vacantly waiting and longing, looking at +their clothes, at the stained-glass windows in the choir or St. Anne in +her crimson cloak, or counting the stars that were painted high up on the +stone ceiling. + +The altar-bell tinkled twice and thrice in succession; the _Sanctus_ was +sung; and after that the organ was silenced. A hush fell over the +congregation and all heads dropped, as though mown down, in deep +reverence: not one dared look up. The priest genuflected, the bell +sounded repeatedly and, amid that great hush, thrice three notes of the +great church-bell droned through the church and rang out over the distant +fields. Outside, it was all blue and sunshine and silence; everything was +bowed in anxious expectation; it was as though there were nothing erect +and alive in the world except that little church and that bell. In the +farthest houses in the village the mothers were now kneeling and beating +their breasts, with their thoughts on Our Lord. The God of Heaven and +Earth had descended and was filling all things with His awful presence. +Carefully, slowly, almost timidly came the _Adoro te_; and the people +little by little raised their heads and sighed, as though relieved and +still quite awed by what had happened or was going to happen. + +And now the ceremony began. After the _Agnus Dei_ and the three tinkles +of the bell at the _Domine, non sum dignus_, the four little angels came +with hands folded and heads bowed, with their gold-paper wings carefully +furled behind them, and walked reverently to the front of the church. +Horieneke stood up, took her great sheet of paper and, in her clear +voice, read out her piece so that all the congregation could hear, though +she stopped to find her words at times and faltered here and there +because her heart was beating so violently and she had such a catch in +her throat: + +"Then Thou wilt come to us, Almighty God! To us poor little sheep who, +hardly knowing what we did, have so often offended Thee. We are not +worthy to receive Thee, unless Thou say but the word that our souls may +be healed. And, as Thou hast ordained, we will, in fear and confidence, +approach Thee as poor little children approaching their kind Father. We +have nothing wherewith to repay the great love which Thou bearest us; we +are needy in all things; and all things must come from Thee. We are still +very young and have already gone astray, but we repent and are heartily +sorry to have caused Thee any grief. And, now that Thou art so +unspeakably good to us, we wish to be wholly loyal to Thee and to belong +to Thee with heart and soul; dispose of us henceforth as Thy servants and +we shall be filled with joy. Come then, O Jesus; our hearts pant with +longing, our souls are now prepared; we have begged Mary, our dear +Mother, our guardian angels and our blessed patron saints to make us +worthy habitations for Thy majesty." + +The silence was so great that one could hear a leaf fall. The +congregation wriggled where they knelt to see and held their breaths, +full of expectation. The nun struck her key on the back of her chair. Two +little angels went, step by step, to the communion-bench and the first +row of boys and girls followed. The little ones now looked very serious. +They held their heads bowed and their hands clasped; and their faces +shone with heavenly light and silent inner happiness. Horieneke was now +like a white flower; her transparent little waxen face, her delicately +chiselled nose and closed pink lips looked so angelic under her sunny +curls and the white of her veil. The children approached the choir +silently and slowly: 'twas as though they were floating. At the second +tap of the key, they knelt; one more ... and their hands were under the +lace communion-cloth. From the organ-loft the _Magnificat_ resounded. The +priest took the ciborium, gave the benediction and with stately tread +descended the altar-steps. In his slender fingers he held the Sacred +Host, that small white disk which stood out sharply above the silver +vessel against the rich violet of his chasuble. The children's heads by +turn dropped backwards and fell upon their breasts, in ecstacy. The bells +rang out; the choristers shouted their hymn of praise; the priest +murmured: + +"_Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christ ..._" + +The key tapped; and the angels kept leading new rows to the Holy Table +and bringing the others away again. And the great work went on in solemn +silence amid all that jubilant music. The congregation were lifted up, +their hearts throbbed and their tears welled with happiness and +contentment. + +The last row had come back; and they were all now kneeling in adoration +when the head boy read out: + +"What shall we return Thee, O Lord, for what Thou hast done for us! But +now we were mute, prostrate in adoration, amazed and awed by Thy mighty +presence in our hearts, bowed down in the dust of our humility; now at +last we dare raise our heads and thank Thee. We beseech Thee that Thou +wilt continue to dwell in our hearts, to reign there and to pour forth +Thy mercies there abundantly. We are frail creatures; and, were it not +that Thou, in Thy compassion, dost uphold us, we should continually and +at every moment fall and succumb in the rude gusts of life. We put our +trust in Thee and we know that Thou wilt succour us and that we shall +enter the life everlasting. Amen." + +It was over; and the congregation looked round impatiently to see how +they could get out of church quickest. Their tears were dried and their +thoughts were once more fixed on clothes, home, coffee and cakebread. +After the last sign of the cross, the men crowded outside; the mothers +sought their youngsters, kept them out of the crush for fear of accidents +and marched triumphantly through the two rows of sightseers that stood on +either side of the church-door. Now was the moment for showing-off, for +congratulation and admiration on every side, till the children did not +know which way to turn or what to say; and they were very hungry. All now +went with their friends to the tavern for a drop of Hollands; and from +there mother went home with two or three wives of the neighbourhood. + +Horieneke walked behind. She was all by herself and wrapped in +contemplation: that great miracle was now over, all of a sudden, and she +could hardly believe it. Instead of enjoying all the happiness for which +she had waited so long, her heart was full of distress and she felt +inclined to cry. She had been so uneasy in church, so shy and frightened: +there was the reading of that paper before all those people; and directly +after, amid all the confusion, Our Lord had come. Hastily and very +distractedly she had said her prayers, had spoken, asked and prayed and +then waited for the miracle, waiting for Our Lord, Who now, living in +her, would speak. And nothing had happened, nothing: she had done her +very best to listen amidst the bustle outside and around her ... and yet +nothing, nothing! Meanwhile she had raised her head to breathe ... and +the people were leaving and she had to go with them: it was finished! It +had all been so matter-of-fact, just like the communion-practice of +yesterday, when she had merely swallowed a morsel of bread. Her heart +beat in perplexity and she feared that she had made an unworthy +communion. + +The wind blew under her veil, which flew up in the air behind her. She +was so pure, so unspotted in all that white; and, cudgel her brains as +she would, she could not remember any fault or sin which she had omitted +to confess. Though Our Lord had not spoken to her, He had been there all +the same and she had not heard Him because of all that was happening +around her. She ought to have been alone there, in a silent church. Even +here, outside, by the trees, would have been better. + +The wives were asked in to coffee and they stood and waited for Horieneke +at the garden-gate. Indoors everything was anyhow: Fonske was going about +in his shirt, Bertje had one leg in his breeches and Dolfke sat on the +floor, playing with Trientje. Father had made coffee and stood with the +bottles and glasses ready, looking dumbfounded at his child, now that he +saw her for the first time in her white clothes. The boys crowded round +shyly; they no longer knew their sister in this great lady; they kept +hold of one another shyly, with their fingers in their mouths; they were +unable to speak a word. Mother threw off her cloak and began cutting +currant-bread and butter. Horieneke was made to take off her veil and +gloves and a towel was fastened under her chin. The wives and youngsters +sat down. First a drop to each; all drank to the health of the little +first-communicant; they touched glasses. Father poured out and Horieneke +had to drink too: she put the stuff to her lips, pulled a wry face and +pushed the glass away. The boys dipped and soaked the bread in their +coffee; and the wives started talking about their young days and about +clothes and the old ways and the fine weather and the fruit-crop. Mother +did nothing but cut fresh slices of bread-and-butter, which were snatched +away and gobbled up on every side. + +"Eat away!" said father. + +The hostess of "The Four Winds" had been unable to take her eyes off +Horieneke all through mass. + +"Damned pretty, like a little angel!" said Stiene Sagaer. + +"And a curly head of hair like a ball of gold! It made one's mouth water! +And that wreath!" squealed the farmer's wife from the Rent Farm. + +"Mam'selle Julie had a hand in it." + +"And such pretty manners! Well, dear, Our Lord will be mighty pleased +with you." + +"And how nicely she read that piece!" said Stiene. "My blood crept when I +heard it. Look here, Wanne Vandoorn was sitting beside me; and, you can +take my word, the good soul couldn't control herself and we both cried +till we sobbed." + +"I felt it too," said mother. "Such things are cruel hearing. And the +priest...." + +"Ah, he knows how to talk, that holy man! He's a pure soul." + +"You'll regret it all your days, Ivo, that you weren't there to see it." + +Father nodded and took another slice of bread-and-butter. + +"It'll take me all the week to tell about it at home," said the farmer's +wife. + +The boys sat making fun among themselves of Stiene Sagaer's crooked nose +and the squeaky voice of the farmer's wife. When the wives had done +eating, they stood up and went. + +When they had gone some little way, they turned round again and cried +against the wind: + +"It's going to be fine to-day, Ivo!" + +"And warm!" piped the farmer's wife. "Beautiful weather!" + +They went down the sand-path, each wending her own way home. + +The boys were now dressed and father, stripped to the waist, went out to +wash his face under the trees at the pump. His freshly-ironed white shirt +was brought out and his shiny boots and his blue smock-frock and +black-silk cap. After much fuss and turning and seeking, he got ready and +the boys too. Mother was busy with the baby in the cradle; Horieneke was +showing her new holy pictures to Trientje; and Bertje and the other boys +had gone out to play in the road. The bells rang again, this time for +high mass. Many small things had still to be rummaged out, clothes to be +pinned and buttoned; and the boys, with their Sunday penny in their +pocket, marched up the wide road to high mass. + +The wind had dropped and the sun blazed in the clear blue of the sky, +which hung full of unravelled white cloud-threads, showing gold at the +edges. A gay light lay over all the young green; the huge fields were +full of waving corn, which swayed and bowed and straightened again, +shining in streaks as under clear, transparent water. The trees stood +turned to the sun, as though painted, so bright that from a distance one +saw all the leaves, finely drawn, gleaming against the shadows that lay +below. Here they stood in close hedges on either side of the road, trunk +after trunk, making a dark wall with a dense roof of leafage, which +presently opened out in a rift at the turn of the road, where four +tree-trunks stood out against the sky; and then the trees turned away to +the left and were drawn up in two new rows, which stretched out beside +the road right across the plain. Here and there a few other trees stood +lonely in the fields, gathered in small clumps, with the light playing +between them; and far away at the edge of the bright expanse, in a wealth +of mingled green, amid the tufted foliage with its changing hues and +shadows, the little pointed church showed above the uneven, red-tiled +roofs. It was all like a restful dream, made up of Sunday peace. Above +and around, all the air was sounding with the gay tripping music of the +three bells as they rang together: a laughing song in the glad sunshine, +summoning from afar the people who came from every side, clad in their +best. The boys, in their new red-brown, fustian breeches, standing stiff +with the tailor's crease in them, and their thick, wide jackets and shiny +hats, held father's hand or skipped round Horieneke, whom they could not +admire enough. In the village square they hid themselves and went to the +booth to see how they could best spend their pennies. + +The people stayed in the street, looking about, and did not go into the +church until the little bell tolled out its tinkling summons and the last +little maid had been looked at and had disappeared. Then the men knocked +out their pipes against the tips of their shoes and sauntered in through +the wide church-door. + +The incense still hung about the aisles and the sun sifted its golden +dust through the stained-glass windows right across the church. The +congregation stood crowded and crammed together behind their chairs, +looking at the gilt of the flowers and at the great mountain of votive +candles that were burning before the altar. The organ had all its pipes +wide open; and music streamed forth in great gusts that resounded in the +street outside. The priest sang and rough men's voices chanted the +responses with the full power of their throats. And the high mass +proceeded slowly with its pomp of movement and song. The congregation +prayed from their books or, overcome by the heat, sat yawning or gazing +at the incense-wreaths or started nodding on their chairs. The saints +stood stock-still, smiling from their pedestals and proud in their high +day finery. When the singing ceased, one heard through the dreamy murmur +of the organ the spluttering of the burning candles and the clatter on +the brass dish of the sacristan making the collection. The priest once +more mounted the pulpit and, with the same gestures and action, delivered +the same admonitions as earlier in the morning. Again the people sat +listening and weeping; others slept. More organ-music and singing and +praying and the mass came to an end and the priest turned to the +congregation and gave the blessing. They streamed out of church in a +thick crowd and stood in the road again to see the youngsters pass. Then +all of them made their several ways to the taverns. The +first-communicants had to call on aunts and cousins and friends; and the +poorer children went to show their clothes and asked for pennies. + +Horieneke and father and the brothers went straight home to await the +visitors. Before they reached the door, they smelt the butter burning in +the pan, the roast and the vegetables. The stove roared softly; and on +the flat pipe stood earthen and iron pots and pans simmering and fretting +and sending up clouds of steam to the rafters. Amidst it all, mother +hurried to and fro in her heavy wooden shoes. Her body still waggled in +her wide jacket and blue petticoat. Her face shone with grease and +perspiration. She puffed and sighed in the intolerable heat. The blue +chequered cloth lay spread on the table; and all around were the plates +with the freshly tinned spoons and forks and little beer-glasses.[8] +Outside, the boys sat in the top of the walnut-tree, waiting and peering +for any one coming. Father had taken off his blue smock and turned up his +shirt-sleeves and now went to see to his birds. That was his great hobby +and his work on Sunday every week. All the walls were hung with cages: in +that big one were two canaries, pairing; in the next, a hen-canary +sitting on her eggs; and in a little wire castle lived a linnet and a +cock-canary and three speckled youngsters. The finches were in a long row +of darkened cages and moulting-boxes. When he put out his hands, the +whole pack started singing and whistling; they sprang and fluttered +against the bars and pecked at his fingers. He took the cages down one by +one, put them on the table and whistled and talked to his birds, cleaned +the trays and filled the troughs with fresh water and seed. The +canary-bird got a lump of white sugar and the linnet half an egg, because +of her young ones. Then he stood and watched them washing their beaks and +wings and splashing in the water, pecking at their troughs now full of +seed and at their sugar and cheerfully hopping on and off their perches. +Then, when they were all hung up again in their places on the wall, they +all started whistling together till the kitchen rang with it. The baby +screamed in its cradle. Trientje cried and mother stamped across the +floor in her heavy wooden shoes. + +[8] The West-Flemings brew a beer so extremely strong that it is + served in quite small glasses, not more than half the size of an + ordinary tumbler. + +"Hi, mates, I see something!" Fonske called from the walnut-tree. + +The boys stretched their necks and so did father: it was jogging along in +the distance, coming nearer and nearer. + +"Uncle Petrus and Aunt Stanse in the dog-cart!" + +They slithered out of the tree like cats and ran down the road as fast as +they could. The others now plainly heard the wheels rattling and saw the +great dogs tugging and leaping along as if possessed. High up in the car +sat uncle, with his tall hat on his round head, bolt upright in his +glossy black-broadcloth coat; and beside him broad-bodied Aunt Stanse, +with coloured ribbons fluttering round her cap and a glitter of beads +upon her breast. In between them sat Cousin Isidoor, half-hidden, waving +his handkerchief. They came nearer still, jolting up and down through the +streaks of shade and sunlight between the trees. Uncle Petrus flourished +his hand, pushed his hat back and urged the dogs on; aunt sat with her +face aflame and the drops of sweat on her chubby cheeks, laughing, with +her hands on her hips, because of the shaking of her fat stomach. The +dogs barked and leapt right and left at the boys. Petrus jumped nimbly +out of the cart, ran along the shafts and led the team with a stylish +turn out of the road, through the gate, into the little garden, where it +pulled up in front of the door. The dogs stood still, panting and lolling +out their tongues. Mother was there too and cried, "Welcome," and took +Doorke under the armpits and lifted him out of the cart. Aunt began by +handing out baskets, parcels and bundles. Then, sticking out her fat +legs, in their white stockings, she climbed out of the cart and looked +round at the youngsters, who already stood hankering to know what was in +the basket. + +"Well, bless me, Frazie, I needn't ask you how it goes with the chickens! +There's a whole band of them and all sound and well: just look at them! +Oh, you fatty!" And she pinched Bertje's red cheeks. "And you too, +Frazie." + +"Look at the state I'm in!" said mother, sticking her hands under the +apron stretched tight across her fat stomach and looking down at her bare +legs. "Such a heap to do, no time to dress yet." + +"You're all right as you are, Frazie; you've no need to hide your legs +nor t'other either: you've a handsome allowance of both," said Uncle +Petrus, chaffingly. "I'd like a drop of water for the dogs, though." + +Father sent the bucket toppling down the well and turned the handle till +it rose filled. The dogs stuck their heads into the bucket and lapped and +gulped greedily. Cousin stood staring bashfully amid all those +peasant-lads and all that jollity, while Bertje, Fonske and the others +too did not come near, but stood looking at the little gentleman with his +fine clothes and his thin, peaky face; they trotted and turned, whispered +to one another, went outside and came back again, laughed and said +nothing. + +"But the first-communicant! Where's Horieneke?" asked Stanse, suddenly. + +From the little green arbour, in between the trees, a golden curly-head +came peeping, followed by a little white body and little Trientje too, +holding a great bunch of yellow daffodils in her hand. Stanse stuck out +her arms in the air: + +"Oh, you little butterfly! Come along here, you're as lovely as an +angel!" + +And she lifted Horieneke from among the flowers, right up to her beaded +breast, and pressed her thick lips to the child's forehead with a +resounding smack. + +"Godmother, godmother," whimpered Trientje. + +"Yes, you too, my duck!" + +And the child forthwith received two fat kisses on its little cheeks. + +The dogs were now unharnessed and father and Petrus had gone for a stroll +in the orchard. The boys stood crowding against the table, looking at +aunt undoing her parcels. In one were sweet biscuits, in another +brandy-balls, peppermints, pear-drops and toffy. All this was carefully +divided into little stacks and each child was given his share, with the +strict injunction not to eat any before noon. Fonske hid his in the +drawer, next to the canary-seed, Dolfke his in the cupboard and Bertje +shoved his portion into his pockets. It was not long before three or four +of them were fighting like thieves and robbers, while Stanse and Frazie +went to look at the baby, which lay sleeping quietly in the cradle. + +First one more drop of cherry-gin apiece and then to dinner. The soup +stood ready ladled out, steaming in the plates. Horieneke sat demurely in +the middle, next to Doorke, with uncle and aunt on either side and, lower +down, father and all the children: mother had to keep moving to and fro, +waiting on them, snatching a mouthful now and again betweenwhiles. When +every one was served and Trientje had stammered out her Our Father aloud, +father once more stood up, as the master of the house, and said: + +"You are all of you welcome and I wish you a good appetite." + +The spoons began to clatter and the tongues to wag: uncle praised the +delicious leek-soup, so did aunt; and then came endless questions from +every side about the news of the district and all that had happened +during the last ten or twelve years, ever since Frazie had married and +left her home. + +The children sat staring with wide-open eyes, now at their plates, now at +aunt with her fat cheeks and her diamond cross that hung glittering at +the end of a gold chain on her enormous breast; they counted the rings +that were spitted on her fingers right up to the knuckles; they gazed at +her earrings.... As the soup went down, the faces began to shine and +mother pulled at her jacket and complained of the dreadful heat. Father +pushed up the window and opened the back-door. The wind and the scented +air, with pollen from the cherry-trees, now blew across the table and +played refreshingly in their necks and ears. Mother kept on running about +and serving: it was hot carrots now and boiled beef. Father took the +flowered milk-jug and filled the little tumblers with beer. Slices of +meat and fat were cut off with the big carving-knife and distributed; +each received his plateful of glistening carrots; and the forks went +bravely to work. After that, the great iron pot was set on the table, +with the rabbits, which, roasted brown, lay outstretched in the +appetizing, simmering gravy that smelt so good; and beside it a dish of +steaming potatoes. The little tumblers were emptied and filled again; in +between the loud talking you could hear the crunching of the teeth and +the cracking of the bones; the children sat smeared to their eyes and +picked the food in their plates with their hands. Uncle's eyes began to +twinkle and he started making jokes, so much so that aunt had every +moment to stop eating for laughing; then her broad head would fall +backwards and her cheeks, which bloomed like ripe peaches, creased up and +displayed two rows of gleaming ivory teeth. It all turned to a noisy +giggling; and the general merriment could be heard far away in the other +houses. + +Uncle Petrus enjoyed teasing his sister and made her cry out each time he +declared that, for all her waiting at table and running about, she had +eaten more than he and Brother Ivo put together and that it was no wonder +she had grown such a body and bred such fine youngsters. The mighty din +woke the baby and started it crying loudly in its cradle. Fonske took it +out and put it in mother's lap. It was as fresh and pink as a rose-bud; +it kicked its little legs about and shoved its fists into its eyes. + +"Yes, darling, you're hungry too, I expect." + +And she unbuttoned her jacket and from behind her shift produced her +great right breast. The baby stuck its hands into that wealth of +whiteness, seized the proffered nipple in its mouth and started greedily +sucking. After the first eager gulps it gradually quieted, closed its +eyes and lay softly drinking, rocked on mother's heaving lap. Isidoorke +kept looking at this as at something very strange that alarmed him. +Horieneke, noticing it, held up a rabbit-leg to him and told him of those +pretty white rabbits which she had seen slaughtered yesterday. The other +youngsters had now eaten their fill and began to feel terribly bored at +table. Bertje gave Fonske a kick on the shin and they went outside +together, whispering like boys with some roguery in view. Wartje, Dolfke +and the others followed them outside. When it was all well planned, they +beckoned behind the door to Doorke; and, when the little man came out at +last: + +"Is it true, Doorke? Do you dare go among the dogs?" + +And they led him on gently by his velvet jacket, behind the house to the +bake-house, where the dogs lay blinking in the shade, with their heads +stretched on their paws. + +Doorke nodded; and, to show how well-behaved they were, he went close up +to them and stroked their backs. + +"And is it also true," asked Bertje, with mischievous innocence, "that +you know how to harness them?" + +Doorke looked surprised and again nodded yes. + +"Let's see if you dare!" + +"Hoo, hoo, Baron!" said Doorke. + +And he took the dog by the collar, put the girths on him and fastened the +traces while Fonske held up the cart. + +"And that other one too?" + +Doorke did the same with the other dog and with the third; and they were +now all three harnessed. Bertje took the cart by the shafts and drew it +very softly, without a sound, under the windows and through the little +gate into the road. The other boys bit their fingers, held their breaths +and followed on tip-toe. Then they all crept into the cart; and, when +they were comfortably seated, Bertje took the reins and: + +"Gee up!" + +Wartje struck the dogs with the handle of the whip and they leapt forward +lustily and the cart rolled along through the clouds of dust rising from +the sandy road. + +Horieneke had come up too and watched this silent sport; and she now +stood alone with Doorke, looking along the trees, where the cart was +disappearing towards the edge of the wood. When there was nothing more to +see, they both went indoors. + +Uncle and aunt and father were now talking quietly and earnestly, over +three cups of coffee. Mother still sat with the baby on her lap, where it +had fallen asleep while sucking. Aunt was constantly wiping the +glistening perspiration from her forehead; and she unbuttoned her silk +dress because she had eaten too much and her heart was beginning to +swell. + +"Shouldn't we be better out of doors?" she asked. + +Mother tucked in her breast, buttoned her jacket and laid the child +carefully in the cradle, near Trientje, who sat sleeping in her little +baby-chair. They left everything as it was: table and plates and pots and +glasses. Father and uncle filled their pipes and went outside under the +elder-tree, in the shade. The wives tucked their clothes between their +legs and lay down in the grass. Aunt had carefully rolled up her silk +skirt and was in her white petticoat. + +They now went on talking: an incessant tattle about getting children and +bringing them up, about housekeeping and about land and sand and parish +news, until, overcome by the heat and the weight of their bodies, they +let their heads fall and closed their eyes and seemed to sleep. Uncle and +father stood looking at them a little longer and then, in their white +shirt-sleeves, with their thumbs in their tight trouser-bands, went up +the narrow little path, in the blazing sun, to look at the wheat and the +flax, which were already high. + +Horieneke and Doorke were now left looking at each other. Horieneke began +to tire of this; and she took the boy by the hand and led him into the +house and up to her room. There she showed him her holy pictures on the +wall and her little statues; they sat down side by side on the bed; and +Horieneke told him the whole of her life and the doings of the last few +days, all that she had longed for and to-day's happiness. The boy +listened to her gladly; he looked at her with his big, brown eyes and sat +still closer to her on the bed. He had now to see her pretty clothes; and +they went together to the best bedroom where the veil lay and the wreath +and her prayer-book and earrings. She must next really show him what she +had looked like that morning in church; and he helped her put on the +veil, placed the wreath on her curls and then took a few steps backwards +to see. He thought her very pretty; and they smiled happily. Then +everything was taken off again; and they went hand in hand, like a +brother and sister who had not seen each other for some time, to walk in +the little flower-garden. Here they looked at every leaf and named every +flower that was about to open. When everything had been thoroughly +inspected, they sat and chatted in the box arbour, very seriously, like +grown-up people. Then they also became tired and Horieneke put her arm +over Doorke's shoulder, allowed her golden curls to play in his eyes and +in this way they walked out, down the road, towards the wood. Here they +were all alone with the birds twittering in the trees and the crickets +chirping in the grass beside the ditch. + +Everywhere, as far as they could see, was corn and green fields and +sunshine and stillness. They strolled down the long, cheerful road. +Doorke held his arm round Horieneke's tight-laced little waist and +listened to all the new things which his cousin described so prettily; +and she too felt a great delight in having this boy, with his brown eyes +and his lean shoulder-blades, beside her, listening to her and looking at +her and understanding her ever so much better than her rough little +brothers did. She would have liked to walk on all her life like this, in +that golden sunshine, telling him how she had read that beautiful prayer +in church this morning ... and about the priest's sermon ... and those +pretty angels with their gold wings, who had walked up and down so calmly +and placidly; about her dread during the communion-mass and her fear and +sorrow because Our Lord had not spoken in her little heart. And so, +talking and listening, they came to the wood. It looked so pleasant under +those pollard alders in the shade and farther on in the dark, among the +spruces, where the light filtered through in meagre rays, after that long +walk in the blinding sun. + +"Let's go in!" said Doorke and was on the point of going down the little +path that ran beside the ditch, in among the trees. + +"We mustn't!" said Horieneke; and she clutched him by the arm. + +Her face grew very serious and she wrinkled her forehead: + +"Look there!" + +And she pointed through a gap between the trees down to the valley where, +above the tall trunks, they could see the whole expanse of a big +homestead, with the long thatched roofs of stable and barn and the tiles +and slates of the house and turrets. She put her mouth to his ear and +whispered: + +"That's where the rent-farmer lives ... and he's a bad, bad man. He does +wicked things to the little girls who go into the wood; and mother says +that then they fall ill and die and then they go to Hell!" + +Doorke did not understand very well, but he saw from Horieneke's +wide-open eyes that it was serious. They sat down together on the edge of +the ditch, with their legs in the grass, played with the daisies and +listened to the thrushes gurgling deep down in the wood. They sat there +for a long time. The sun sank to the top of the oak; the sky was flecked +with white clouds which shot through the heavens in long diverging +shafts, like a huge peacock's tail upon an orange field. + +The children mused: + +"I should like to fall down dead, here and now," said Horieneke. + +Doorke looked up in surprise: + +"Why, Horieneke?" + +"Then I should be in Heaven at once." + +They again sat thinking a little: + +"Playing with the angels!... Have you ever seen angels, Doorke?" + +"Yes, in the procession, Horieneke." + +"Ah, but I mean live ones! I saw some last night, live ones; and they +were in white, Doorke, with long trains and golden hair and diamond +crowns, and they were singing in a beautiful garden!..." + +With raised eyebrows and earnest gestures of her little forefinger, she +told him all her dream of the angels and the swings and the singing and +the music ... and of father with his sickle. + +Doorke hung upon her words. + +The thrush started anew and they sat listening. + +"What will you do when you grow up, Doorke?" + +And she put her arm round the boy's neck again and looked fondly into his +eyes: + +"Will you get married, Doorke?" + +Doorke shook his head. + +"Not even to me?" + +And she looked at him with such a roguish smile that the boy felt +ashamed. Then, to comfort him, she said: + +"Nor I either, Doorke. Do you know what I'm going to do?" + +"No, Horieneke." + +"Listen, Doorke, I'll tell you all about it, but promise on your soul not +to tell anybody: Bertje, Fonske and all the rest mustn't know." + +Doorke nodded. + +"Father wanted me to go into service down there, with all those wicked +people. Then I cried for days and days and prayed to Our Lord; and mother +told father that I was dying; and then she said that I might ... Try and +guess, Doorke!" + +Doorke made no attempt to guess. Then she drew him closer to her and +whispered: + +"Mother said I might stay at home and help her ... and afterwards, when I +am grown up ... I shall become a nun, Doorke, in a convent; but first +mother must get another baby, a new Horieneke.... And you?" + +The boy didn't know. + +"And you, Doorke, must learn to be a priest; then you and I will both go +to Heaven." + +Behind them, on the road, came a noise and a rush and an outcry so great +that the children started up in fright. Look! It was Bertje and all the +little brothers in the dog-cart, which was coming back home through the +sand. When they saw cousin and Horieneke, they raised a mighty shout of +joy and stopped. Bertje stood erect and issued his commands: all the boys +must get out; he would remain sitting on the front seat, with Horieneke +and Doorke side by side behind him, between two leafy branches, like a +bride and bridegroom! Fonske cut two branches from an alder-tree and +fastened them to either side of the cart. Then they set out, amid the +shouting and cheering of the boys running in front and behind: + +"Ready?" + +"Ye-e-es!" + +The dogs gave an angry jerk forward and the cart went terribly fast and +Doorke clutched Horieneke with one hand and with the other warded off the +hanging willow-twigs that lashed their faces. + +The sun had gone down and a red light was glowing in the west, high up in +the tender blue. The air had turned cooler and a cold, clammy damp was +falling over the fields, which now lay steaming deadly still in the +rising mist that already shrouded the trees in blue and darkened the +distances. + +At the turn of the road, the children stepped out of the cart and put it +away carefully behind the bake-house, tied up the panting dogs and +sauntered into the house. + +"Father, we've been out with cousin," said Bertje. + +They had to take their coffee and their cakebread-and-butter in a hurry: +it was time to put the dogs in, said uncle. + +Doorke said they were put in. + +Frazie helped her sister on with her things: + +"You'll find the looking-glass hanging in the window, Stanse. I must go +and put on another skirt too and come a bit of the way with you." + +The boys were to stay at home; they got the rest of the sweets and were +ordered to bed at once. Horieneke was told to take off her best clothes; +it was evening and the goats had still to be fed. She went to her little +room reluctantly and could have cried because it was all over now and +because it was so melancholy in the dark. She felt ashamed when she came +down again and glanced askance at Doorke, who would think her so plain in +her week-day clothes. The boy looked at her and said nothing; then he +jumped into the cart and drove off slowly. Mother with Stanse and father +with uncle came walking behind. + +It was still light; the evening was falling slowly, slowly, as though the +daylight would never end. In the west the sky was hung with white and +gold tapestry against an orange background. On the other side, the moon, +very wan still, floated in the pale-blue all around it. Beside the bluey +trees long purple stripes of shadow now lay, with fallen clusters of +branches, on the plain. You could hardly tell if day or night were at +hand. + +Uncle and aunt were extremely pleased with their visit; uncle looked +contentedly into the distance and boasted that he had never seen such an +evening nor such fine weather so early in the year, while Frazie at each +step flung her arms into the air and stopped to say things to Stanse, +whose good-natured laugh rang out over the plain and along the road. In +front of them, Doorke, like a little black shadow, danced up and down in +his cart to the jolting of the wheels as he jogged quietly along. The +crickets chirped in the ditch; and from high up in the trees came the +dying twitter of birds about to go to sleep. + +Father wanted to drink a parting glass of beer in the Swan; Doorke could +drive along slowly. + +"Just five minutes then," said Petrus. + +There were many people in the inn and much loud merriment. The new +arrivals were soon sitting among the others, staying on and listening to +all the jolly songs; and, when this had gone on for some time, they +forgot the hour and the parting. Aunt Stanse held her stomach with +laughing; she was not behindhand when the glasses had to be emptied or +when her turn came to sing a song. Amid the turmoil, the rent-farmer came +up to Frazie, took her impudently by the arm, laughingly wished her +_proficiat_ with her pretty daughter and, after slyly looking about him +for confirmation, said, half in earnest: + +"We're planting potatoes to-morrow at the Rent Farm, we shall want lots +of hands; missie may as well come too." + +And with that he went back to his game of cards. + +This time, the leave-taking was genuine. Petrus got up; and it was +good-bye till next year, when Doorke would make his first communion. + +The cart was waiting outside the door; they stepped in, uncle took the +reins. + +"A safe ride home!" + +"Thanks for the pleasant visit! And to our next merry meeting!" + +"God speed!... Good-night!" + +"Gee up!" + +The dogs sprang forward, the cart rumbled along and soon the whole thing +had become a shapeless black patch among the black trees. In the still +night they could just hear the wheels rattling over the cobbles; and then +Ivo and Frazie went home again. + +A breeze came playing through the garden, sighing now and again with a +sound as soft as silk; the moon shone upon the dark trees and its light +played like golden snow-flakes dancing and fluttering down upon the +gleaming crests of the green bushes and the milk-white plain. The air was +heavy and stifling, full of warm damp; and strong-scented gusts of fresh, +rain-laden perfumes blew across the road. + +They stepped hurriedly on the legs of their long shadows and did not +speak. There came a new rustling in the trees and a few big, cool drops +of rain pattered on the sand, one here, one there and gradually quicker. + +Ivo and Frazie hastened their pace; but, when the great drops began to +fall on them thick as hail and around them in the sand, till the rain +streaked through the air and rattled tremendously over their heads, +mother held her body with both hands to prevent its shaking, Ivo tied his +red handkerchief over his silk cap and they started running. + +"It was main hot for the time of year." + +"And the flowers smelt too strong and the thrush sang so loud." + +It went on raining: a wholesome, cleansing downpour, a slow descent in +slanting lines that glittered in the moonlight, bringing health to the +earth. The air was fragrant with the wet grass and the white flowers: it +was like a rich garden. At home, everything was put away, the table +cleared and wiped; the lamp was alight and all the doors open. The boys +were in bed. Horieneke had read evening prayers to them and then hurried +to her little room, to be alone; and there she had lain thinking of all +that had happened during that long day: her jaws ached from the constant +smiling; and she felt dead-tired and sad. + +Father took off his wet blouse and mother stirred up the fire: they would +have one more cup of coffee, with a drop of something, and then go to +bed. Ivo lit his pipe and stretched out his legs to dry beside the stove. + +They drank their coffee and listened to the steady breathing of the boys +and the dripping of the gutters on the cobbles outside. Father made a +remark or two about uncle and aunt and about their village, but got only +half-answers from his wife. Then, all of a sudden, he asked: + +"What did the farmer come and say to you?" + +Frazie sighed: + +"They're planting potatoes to-morrow and we were to go and work; and +Horieneke was to come too." + +"Ay." + +"But she'll stay here!" + +"What do you mean, stay here?" + +"Yes, she's got her work to do at home." + +"All right; but if she has to go?" + +"Don't care." + +And mother stood with her arms akimbo, looking at her husband, waiting +for his answer. + +"And if he turns us out and leaves us without work!" + +"And suppose our child comes home with a present ... from that beast of a +farmer!" + +Ivo knocked out his pipe: + +"Pooh, that could happen to her anywhere; and, after all, she won't be +tied to her mother's apron-strings all her life long!... When you live in +a man's house and eat his bread, you've got to work for it and do his +will: the master is the master. Come, let's go to bed; we've a lot to do +tomorrow." + +Suppressed sobs came from the little bedroom. Mother looked in. Horieneke +lay with her hands before her eyes, crying convulsively. + +"Well, what's the matter?" + +The child pressed her head to the wall and wept harder than ever. + +"Come along, wife, damn it! It's time that all this foolery was over, or +she'll lose her senses altogether." + +Mother grew impatient, bit her teeth: + +"Oh, you blessed cry-baby!" + +And angrily she thumped the child on the hip with her clenched fist and +left her lying there. + +"A nice thing, getting children: one'd rather bring up puppies any day!" + +She turned out the light and it was now dark and still; outside, the thin +rain dripped and the white blossoms blew from the trees and the whole air +smelt wonderfully good. In the distance, the nightingale hidden in the +wood jugged and gurgled without stopping; and it was like the pealing of +a church-organ all night long. + + + +The weather had broken up and the day dawned with a melancholy drizzle +and a cold wind. The sky remained grey, discharging misty raindrops which +soaked into everything and hung trembling like strung pearls on the +leaves of the beech-hedge and on the grass and on the cornstalks in the +fields. It was suddenly winter again. On the hilly field the people stood +black, wrapped up, with their caps drawn over their ears and their red +handkerchiefs round their necks. The hoes went up in the air one after +the other and struck the moist earth, which opened into straight furrows +from one end to the other of the field. Here wives walked barefoot, bent, +with baskets on their arm from which they kept taking potatoes and laying +them, at a foot's distance, in the open trench. In a corner of the field +stood the farmer, his big body leaning on a stick; and his dark eyes +watched his labourers. + +There, in the midst of them, was Horieneke, bent also like the others, in +her coarse workaday clothes, with a basket of seed-potatoes on her arm; +and her red-gold curls now hung, like long corkscrews, wet against her +face; and every now and then she would draw herself up, tossing her head +back to keep them out of her eyes. + + + + +VI. IN THE SQUALL + +At noon, under the blazing sun, all three started for the wood, after +blackberries. + +Trientje was in her cotton pinafore, with a straw hat on her head and a +wicker basket on her arm. Lowietje stood in his worn breeches and his +torn shirt; in his pocket he had a new climbing-cord. Each dragged +Poentje by one hand, Poentje who still went about in his little shirt +and, with his wide-straddling little bare legs, trotted on between +brother and sister. + +They went along narrow, winding foot-paths, between the cornfields, high +as a man, through the flax-meadows and the yellow blinking +mustard-flower. The sun bit into Lowietje's bare head and sent the sweat +trickling down his cheeks. + +They went always on, with their eyes fixed upon that thick crowd of blue +trees full of blithe green and of dark depths behind the farthermost +trunks. + +Poentje became tired and let himself be dragged along by his hands. When +he began to cry, they sat down in the ditch beside the corn to rest. +Trientje opened her basket and they ate up all their bread-and-butter. +Near them, in the grass, ants crept in and out of a little hole. Lowietje +poked with a stick and the whole nest came crawling out. The children sat +looking to see all those beasties swarm about and run away with their +eggs. + +All three stood up and went past the old mill, then through the meadow +and so, at last, they came to the wood and into the cool shade. On the +banks of the deep, hollowed path, it all stood thick as hail and black +with the brambleberries. Lowietje picked, never stopped picking, and put +them one by one in his mouth; and his nose and cheeks were smeared with +red, like blood. Trientje steadily picked her whole basket full and +Poentje sat playing on the way-side grass with a bunch of cornflowers. + +In the wood, everything was still: the trees stood firmly in the blaze of +the sun and the young leaves hung gleaming, without stirring. A bird sat +very deep down whistling and its song rang out as in a great church. +Turtle-doves cooed far away. Round the children's ears hummed big fat +bees, buzzing from flower to flower. When the bank was stripped, they +went deeper into the wood, Lowietje going ahead to show the way. They +crept through the trees where it twilighted and where the sun played so +prettily with little golden arrows in the leafage; from there they came +into the high pine-wood. Look, look! There were other boys ... and they +knew where birds lived! + +"Listen, Trientje," said Lowietje. "You stay here with Poentje: I'll come +back at once and bring your pinafore full of birds' eggs ... and young +ones." + +He fetched out his climbing-cord and, in a flash, all the boys were gone, +behind the trees. Trientje heard them shout and yell and, a little later, +she saw her little brother sitting high up on the slippery trunk of a +beech. She put her hands to her mouth and screamed: + +"Lo--wie!..." + +It echoed three or four times over the low shoots and against the tall +trees, but Lowietje did not hear. + +A man now came striding down the path; he carried a gun on his shoulder. +The boys had only just seen him and, on every side, they came scrambling +out of the tree-tops, slid down the trunks and darted into the underwood. +Breathless, bewildered and scared to death, Lowietje came to his sister +and, with his two hands, held the rents of his trousers together: + +"There were eight eggs there, Trientje, but the keeper came and, in the +sliding, my trousers...." + +And he let a strip fall. They were torn from end to end, from top to +bottom, in each leg. + +"Mother will be angry," said Trientje, very earnestly. + +She took some pins from her frock and fastened the tears, so that the +skin did not show. + +Suddenly fell a rumbling thunder-clap that droned through all the wood +and died away in a long chain of rough sounds. The children looked at one +another and then at the trees and the sky. All stood black now, the sun +was gone and a warm wind came working through the boughs, by gusts. It +grew dark as night and at times most terribly silent. + +And now--they all crossed themselves--a ball of fire flew through the sky +and it cracked and broke and it tore all that was in the wood. The wind +came up, the branches rocked and writhed and the leaves fluttered and +tugged and heavy drops beat into the sand. + +"Quick, quick!" said Trientje. "It's going to lighten!" + +Lowietje said nothing and Poentje cried. Each took the child by one hand +and they ran as fast as they could to get from under the trees. + +"Ooh! Ooh!" + +They dashed their hands before their eyes and stood still: a golden snake +twisted round a tree and all the wood was bright with fire and there came +a droning and a rumbling and a banging as of stones together and a +hundred thousand branches burst asunder. Shivering, not daring to look +up, they crossed themselves again and all three crept under the branches, +deep down in a ditch. Trientje tied her pinafore over the little one's +face and they sat there huddled together, shuddering and peeping through +their fingers and saying loud Our Fathers. + +"You must not look, Lowietje: the lightning would strike you blind." + +The trees wrung their heavy boughs and everything squeaked and rustled +terribly. The water rained and poured from the leafy vault on Trientje's +straw hat, on Lowietje's bare head and right through his little torn +shirt. And clap and clap of thunder fell; the sky opened and belched fire +like a hot oven. The children sat nestling into each other's +arms--Poentje down under the other two--and only when it had kept still +for long did they all, trembling and terrified, dare to put out their +heads. + +"I wish we were home now!" sighed Lowietje. + +Once more the sky was all on fire and rumbling and breaking and crackling +till the earth quaked and shook. + +"O God, O God, help us get out of the wood and home to mother!" whined +Trientje. + +When they opened their eyes again, they saw below them, in the bottom, a +huge beech with a bough struck off and the white splinters bare, with +leaves awkwardly twisted right round: it stood there like a fellow with +one arm off. + +The rain now fell steadily in straight stripes; the noise grew fainter +and the sky broke open. + +Soaked through with the wet, the children came creeping out of the ditch +and now, holding their breaths, stood looking at that tree which was so +awesomely cleft and at that crippled bough which hung swinging over +space. The thunder still rumbled, but it was very far away, like heavy +waggons rattling over hard stones. Lowietje caught his little brother up +on his back and they made straight for the opening of the drove, where +they saw a clear sky. They must get out of the wood, away from those +trees where such fearful things happened and where it cracked so and +where it was so dark. + +Outside, the heaven hung full of gold-edged clouds and the sun drove its +bright darts through the sky. The rain fell in lovely gleaming drops and +all looked so new, so fresh and so strangely glad as after a fit of +weeping, when the glistening tears hang in laughing eyes. 'Twas all so +peaceful here and 'twas far behind them that the trees were twisted and +bent. Here and there flew birds; and the cuckoo sat calling in a +cornfield. Lowietje's shirt was glued to his skin; his trousers hung +heavily from his limbs and his hair fell in dripping tresses, sticking +along his cheeks. The white spots on Trientje's pinafore were run through +with the black; and wet cornstalks whipped her little thin skirt. Poentje +splashed with his naked little feet in the puddles and asked for mother. + +"We're almost home, child," said Trientje, to soothe him. + +They went through the wet grass and fragrant cornfields along the +slippery footpaths to a big road. + +Look, there, behind the turning, came mother: she had a sack-cloth over +her head and two umbrellas under her arm; she looked angry and ugly. + +"We shall get a beating," sighed Lowietje. + + + + +VII. A PIPE OR NO PIPE + +He dropped his wheel-barrow, strode from between the shafts and went and +looked into the great window of the tobacco-shop. His eyes were all full, +as far as they could carry: an abundance and a splendour to dream about. +He came a step nearer and rested his two elbows on the stone window-sill, +to see more comfortably. + +Two stacks of motley cigar-boxes stood on either side and ran together at +the top into a rounded arch, from which hung long, long pipes, +cinnamon-wood pipes, as thick as your arm, with green strings to them and +huge, big bowls, artfully carved into the heads of the King, of hideous +niggers, or of pretty girls with beads for eyes. + +On thick, transparent glass slips lay whole files of meerschaum pipes, +furnished with clear curved-amber mouthpieces: fishes' heads, +lobster-claws holding an eggshell, horses' heads, cows' hoofs; rich +cigar-holders of meerschaum, all over silver stars and gold bands. Heaps +and heaps and lots and lots of every kind, as far as he could see; and +all this was multiplied in two enormous mirrors, in which, yonder, far +back among all this smoking-gear, he saw his own face staring at him out +of his great, astonished eyes. + +He sighed. It was all so beautiful, so rich! And now if mother had only +got work! + +He went over it once more. Down below, in little plush-lined trays, lay +the small pipes, the boys' stuff. They lay scattered higgledy-piggledy, +whole handfuls of them, crooked and straight, brown and black. His eyes +thieved round voluptuously in those trays and they read with eager +curiosity the neatly-written figures which informed the world how much +each pipe cost. + +Here, they were crooked, comical little things of black cocus-wood; +there, they were motley, speckled round bowls, like birds' eggs, with +white stems; but they cost too much. And yet they were so charitably +beautiful! Now his eyes remained hankering after a splendid varnished +bowl. It was almost tucked out of sight, but it glittered so temptingly +and had a lovely brown ring at the edge, shading downwards to a pale +gold-yellow: there was a little cup for the oil to sweat into and a fat +cinnamon stem, with a horn mouthpiece. He examined it on every side and +would have liked to turn it over with his eyes. Inside the bowl stood, in +black figures: + +"1 _fr_. 50." + +"Mother!..." + +That was the one he wanted, that was his. She had promised him a pipe if +she got work to-day. If only she had brought work with her! + +After one last look and one more ... he went on. + +He caught up his barrow and pushed it, over the wide road, straight to +the station. + +There he had to wait. + +He loitered round the dreary, deserted yard. The noon sun bit the naked +stones; and everything, hiding and shrinking from that glowing sun-fire, +seemed dead. The drivers sat slumbering on the boxes of their cabs; the +horses stood on three legs, their heads down, crookedwise between the +shafts, and now and then they gave a short stamp, to keep off the flies, +which were terribly active. A group of loafers lay sleeping on their +stomachs in the shade. A slow-moving vehicle drove past and disappeared +round the corner. A dog came stepping up lazily and went and lay under +the sunflowers near the signal-box, blinking his eyes. + +There was nothing more that moved. + +At last the train came gliding in very gently, without noise, and it sent +a gulp or two of white smoke into the quivering blue sky. + +Now the boy stood stretching his neck through the railings, on the +look-out for his mother, whom he already saw in his thoughts, coming +bent, with a heavily-laden bag of weaving-stuff; and the pipe was in his +pocket ... or else nothing, nothing at all! + +'Twas a fat gentleman that got out first; then a tall, thin one; then a +woman; then another woman; always others; and now, now it was mother. She +stuck out her thin leg, groping from the high foot-board to find the +ground, and ... she had an empty blue-and-white canvas bag on her +shoulder. His lower lip dropped sadly and he turned slowly to his barrow: + +"No work yet. God better it!" + +The mother threw her bag on the wheel-barrow and they went on, without +speaking. + +Straight opposite the tobacco-shop, the boy gave a sidelong glance at the +great window, with all those rich things displayed behind it, and he +whistled a little tune. + +They had still far, very far to go, before they two were at home, in +their village. And the sun was burning. + + + + +VIII. ON SUNDAYS + +In his Sunday best! A red-and-yellow flowered scarf was tied round his +sun-burnt neck and the two ends blew over his shoulders; a small +brown-felt hat with a curly brim was drawn down upon his head and, from +under it, came here and there a wisp of flaxen hair. He wore a small, +open jacket, with a short waistcoat, from under which a clean blue shirt +bulged out; and his long, much too long trousers fell in wide folds over +his big cossack shoes.[9] Under his arm he carried a bundle knotted into +a red handkerchief, while with the other hand he twirled a switch. + +[9] Hob-nailed shoes fastened with straps. + +He was a growing youngster, a well-set-up cowherd, with a brown, freckled +face, small, pale-grey eyes, under milk-white eyebrows, and bony knees +and elbows: a sturdy fellow in the making. + +'Twas heavenly, grand Sunday weather: it shone with light and life and it +was all green, pale, splendid green, against a clear blue sky in the +middle of the afternoon. + +He stepped on bravely, along the wide drove of elms, twisting his switch, +and looked into the free sky with his young, grey-blue eyes. He +thought ... of what? Of nothing! Truly, of nothing: what does a cowherd +think of? Wait a bit, though; he was thinking: 'twas Sunday! It was +Sunday once more, the glad Sunday! And there were so few Sundays in those +long, long weeks. And he was going home for a few hours: yes, home; and +from there to Stafke's and to Stafke's pigeons. + +He was hard-worked at the farm: twenty-nine cow-beasts, which were always +hungry and always wanted fattening; furthermore, a whole herd of calves +and hogs: 'twas a drudging without end or bottom, from early morning to +late at night, until his limbs hung lame. + +The farmer was good but strict and could not abide sluggards; he looked +for work, hard work; and this the lad was glad to give, but only while +looking forward to the everlasting Sunday, in which lay all his happiness +and cheer. + +He quickened his steps; and the elms pushed by, one by one, and at last, +ahead, very far down that dark hedge of stems and leafage, came a tiny +opening where the trees seemed to touch one another. + +Look! There, beside the little village church, stood Farmer Willems' +homestead, with its little slate turret and the great poplars and, beside +it, close together and quite hidden in the green, two little cottages. +'Twas there that he was brought up and had grown up; there, in one of +those cottages. In the other lived Stafke's father and mother. The +children had led the half-wild life of the country there: two little boys +together. They had clambered up those mighty trees, weltered in the sand +of the drove and coursed like foals in the meadow. The farm was a free +domain to them; they were at home in it; they went daily to the little +door of the wash-house to fetch their slice of rye-bread-and-butter and, +in the morning, an apple or a pear. They had lain and rolled in the +hay-loft, like fish in the water; but all that had passed so quickly, so +very quickly. The parish-priest came; and, for six months, six long +months, they had had to go to school and church. Then, on a certain +Monday morning, father said: + +"Lad, you're coming along to the farm to-day, to bind corn." + +Play was over, the free play of the country! They were pressed into +labour, were saddled with the labourer's heavy burden. Since then, it had +been an endless roving after work, from one farm to another, with his +bundle under his arm. + +Stafke had remained serving at Willems', with father, and he, on Sunday +afternoons, had not so far to go, under the burning sun, in order to get +home. + +The way was long for an unthinking lad; and they seemed endless, those +never-changing rows of tree-trunks, those uncounted yellow, blinking +cornfields ... and never a creature on the road. It was something very +much out of the way when a pigeon flew through the azure sky; the lad +stood still and, turning round, followed the great ring which it made +until it dropped far away, yonder among the houses of the village. Then +he went on, pondering, as he went, that there was nothing, absolutely +nothing lovelier than a milk-white pigeon in a pale-blue sky; and he +whispered: + +"Perhaps it's Stafke's pigeon." + +On reaching home, he laid down his bundle; his baby sister came running +up to him, with her little arms wide open, and held him by his legs; and +he lifted her twice, three times above his head. He handed mother his +earnings; and then, out of the door, to Stafke's! + +"Roz'lie, is he in?" + +"Oh, yes, he's up in the loft, with the pigeons." + +He climbed up the ladder, in three steps and as carefully as he could, to +the dovecote. Behind a swarm of half-stretched and loose-hanging clouts +and canvas things, a lad sat on an overturned tub, his fair-haired curly +head in his hands, his elbows on his knees, peering through a sort of +lattice-work. Jaak sat down at the other side, on a bundle of maize, in +just the same attitude, and looked too.... + +There were white, snow-white, mottled, blue, slate-blue, russet, +speckled, grey, black-flecked, striped and spotted pigeons, doves, +pouters--some cocks, the rest hens--a motley crowd all mixed up together. +There were some that sat murmuring one to the other, softly--oh, so +softly--and nodding their heads for sheer kindliness. Others cooed +loudly, angrily or indifferently and tripped round one another. Others +sat huddled, meditating, lonely and forlorn, blinking their bright little +glittering eyes. + +Through the holes, from the resting-board, new ones came walking in with +shy feet and sought a little place for themselves; others passed out +through the narrow opening and, flapping their wings, rose into the sky. +'Twas a humming and muttering without end, a murmuring and whispering +loud and soft and a restless stir and movement: a little world full of +neatly-dressed damsels, who were all so lightly, so prettily decked out +and who knew how to manage their trains and their fine clothes so +demurely and so comically. They carefully combed and cleaned their black +velvet ruffs, smoothed their sharp-striped feathers one by one, fondled +and rubbed their downy breasts till they shone like new-blown roses.... + +And Jaak and Stafke sat watching this, sat watching this, like two steel +statues, sweating in that warm loft. They did not stir nor speak a single +word. + +And that lasted and went on.... + +It grew dusk. From every side the pigeons came flying in, whole troops of +them, and sought their well-known roosts. They stood two and two, closely +crowded together on the perches or huddled in the holes. They drew their +heads into their feathered throats and slept. The rumour diminished to +just a soft mumbling; and then nothing more. The pigeon that sat over +there, squatting low on her eggs, faded from sight in her dark corner; +and the whole upper row vanished in the dusk of the rafters. + +The boys still sat on. + +The dovecote became a pale-grey twilight thing, with drab and black +patches here and there. The soft humming passed into a faint buzz that +died away quite; and all was silence. + +They both together stood up straight, gave a long-drawn sigh and went +below. + +"It's getting dark," said Jaak, wiping the sweat from his face. "The cows +will be waiting." + +"Yes," said Stafke. "It gets evening all at once. Well, Jaak, till +Sunday." + +And Jaak went away, through the now moonlit drove, with a new bundle +under his arm and thinking of the farm, of his twenty-nine cow-beasts and +of Sunday and of Stafke's pigeons.... + + + + _Il y a des malheurs qui arrivent + d'un pas si lent et si sur qu'ils + paraissent faire partie de la vie + journaliere._ + +MONTALEMBERT. + + + + +IX. AN ACCIDENT + +He had been half awake several times already, but each time he had +slipped back into an uneasy doze, a restless, wearisome sojourn in a +strange, drowsy world, in which he struggled with stupid, silly +dream-spectres, all jumbled together in a huddled mass of incoherent, +impossible thoughts and actions; a blank world in which all his workaday +doings were forgotten; an after-life of tiring sleep following on the +carouse of yesterday. He lay half-suffocated in the stifling heat of that +tiled garret, lay tossing on a straw mattress. And suddenly, with a jolt +that jerked him sleeping like a beast of burden. And now why couldn't he +take life as it came, like his mates, who just went through it anyhow, +without any calculating, callously and cheerfully, something like a +machine which, when the sun comes out and it is daylight, begins to move +arms and legs, to twist and turn the whole day long and, when it is +evening again and dark, falls down and remains lying dead, for a few +hours, with all the other things? + +He drew himself up, thrust his thin legs into his trousers, his arms into +a dirty jacket and let his weary limbs carry him below. His mother had +buttoned up the linen satchel with his two slices of bread-and-butter and +had ladled out his porridge. He went out followed by a "God guard you, +lad!" and the little woman looked after her boy till he had vanished out +of the alley. She was so fond of him, he knew it; yes, he knew all about +that tender love, which he so often rejected in a moment of churlish +impatience; but still he was sorry afterwards, even though he never +showed it. That prim, old-fashioned little woman, with her cramped ways, +was his mother; his father had been a drunkard and had been killed at his +work: that was his parentage; it was their fault that he led this +poverty-stricken existence. + +He walked on, without looking up at all the swarming life around him, +went step by step over the slippery cobbles, straight to his work. His +work: why must he work, always that everlasting toiling, while others +lived and enjoyed their lives without doing anything? He too had once +thought--but it was only a dream--of becoming something; he had felt +something stirring just there, inside him, and that seed would have +sprouted and blossomed if they had only tended it; but they had +ruthlessly repelled him, had refused to take him up with them on the +heights; and he had remained in the mud, alone, all alone. + +There it rose before him: a mighty edifice in building, with behind it a +radiant summer sun that blazed forth high above the framework of the roof +in the morning sky and made that giant structure stand black in its own +shadow. + +That was his work. All that mass of bricks he had seen grow into the +mighty whole; and there it stood now, a huge block, with heavy, massive +outlines, contained--held upright, it seemed--by a jumble of dirty-white +stakes and posts, crossed and criss-crossed with planks. Out of a dirty +hodge-podge of crazy houses, walls black with smoke, little inner rooms +which for the first time saw the white light of day, with ragged strips +of wall-paper and whitewash among rotten beams and rafters straight and +askew, all of which his stubborn labour had made to fall and disappear, +and out of those deep-dug foundations, out of that drudging in the dirty +ground, those stout walls had grown stone by stone, had risen high into +the sky--oh, the hard work of it!--and, tapering by degrees, had shot up +to form that mighty building. Wall by wall, wrought at and toiled at, +held together by pillars running beside narrow pointed windows to those +peaked gable-steps, running into a forest of masts, of slanting beams +that had to bear the roof, the whole of that sprawling monster had +gradually acquired a sense and a meaning and become the splendid +masterpiece that now stood there, solidly fixed against the blue sky like +a magic crystallized phrase. + +That beginning all over again, day after day, at the same work; all that +busy stir of men and stones, now high in the air, now deep below; that +incessant climbing up and down those swaying ladders: all this had made +such a deep impression on him, had implanted itself into him so firmly +that at the first sight of it he felt smitten with impotence, with a +mechanical discouragement that gripped his whole being and made him work +throughout the day as though urged by an all-ruling deity set there in +the symbolic shape of that giant colossus at which he toiled. It seemed +to him that he was an indispensable little part of that great building, a +small moving thing with but a tiny atom of intelligence--sometimes--and +fatally dragged along in that whirling circle, under the behest of the +masters, who knew their way through every stroke and line of the great +plan, who had all that great work in their heads and on paper and who +possessed the power to bring all that complicated machine into operation. +And he just went to work like a dog, set going by the mournful knocking +of the stone-chopper, the shrill screech of the toothless iron marble-saw +and all the banging and knocking and hewing up yonder at the top of +things. He took his wooden hod, filled it with bricks and slowly climbed +the ladder. He was once more the dismal noodle of last week, the +hypnotized bag-o'-nerves that let himself be swept along in the whirlwind +of habit and vexation, dazed by that awful hugeness which he was helping +to complete and driven on by the ever-pursuing pair of eyes of his strict +foreman. And his head ached so; and he felt so sick; and his legs bent +under the load. + +On he had to go and on. His head no longer took part in the work; his +legs kept on going up and down the rungs with those bricks, those +everlasting bricks: he did not know how many, just hauled them up, +without stopping. + +It seemed to him sometimes that the whole mass of walls and scaffolding, +labourers and foremen made but a single being: a sort of fearsome deity, +something like an unwieldy monster with inhuman, cruel feelings, +something which had to be fed with all that workmen's sweat; and all this +feverish activity seemed to him the whirling along of a crowd of +unfortunates who had stepped into the fatal circle marked out for them, +never to leave it again. Everything seemed so unsteady to-day: those +walls on which he had to walk tottered; and he took such a pleasure in +looking, in looking for a long time down below, yonder where the men and +women were like ants and the great blocks of freestone became little +bricks. It gave him such a delicious wriggling in the bowels, a tickling +in his blood; and he felt his hair tingling on his head. Was not this the +way to obtain release from that hard labour, to get out of that +brain-racking circle? + +Then he held on to a post until he recovered his senses; and he went down +again for more bricks. It came from all that beer. + +Yesterday had been a holiday. The wooden framework of the roof was +finished; and they had nailed the May-bough to the top, the joyous emblem +of difficulties vanquished. It showed up grandly there, with its bright +green leaves so high in the air. The masters had granted the men a day +off and given them plenty of beer. All that warm day they had made merry, +drinking and singing and loafing about the streets like happy savages. He +too had revelled with the rest, had been overcome by the drink and joined +in everything, from the horseplay in the open air to the bestial +amusements in those dark holes where the populace seeks its pleasure, +that stimulant for the work of the morrow. Then that brutal drunkenness +had come, with the loss of all his senses, till he found himself, +dog-tired, sick and feverish, up in his garret under the tiles. + +To-day the work was twice as irksome. That rising warmth which, in the +morning, while it is still cool, forebodes the stifling, paralysing heat +of the scorching noon-day, tortured his throat and his bowels; he +couldn't go on. + +"Slacker!" was the first word flung at his head. He stood on the high +gable-steps and set down his load of bricks. That "Slacker!" played about +in his head like the smarting pain of a lash. He stood looking aimlessly +into space, indifferent to all that moved and lived around him. A shudder +ran through his body. The wall tottered ... and he was so high up, all +alone, seen by nobody: such a small creature in that blue sky, in that +endless space. In a clear vision he saw his own figure in all its lean +wretchedness, cut out like a paper silhouette, standing out sharply +against the sky, such a miserable little object: two thin legs, like +laths, a little stomach, two little sticks of arms and that small, +everyday, vulgar head. Was that he, that tiny atom of this mighty, +colossal building, that ant on the back of this behemoth ... which had +only to move to shake him off, ever so low down! + +Ah, here's that delicious wriggling in the bowels again! He has looked +down. Once more. That's capital: something like a feeling of wanting to +jump down, such an airy, irresponsible joy, like flying in a dense, blue +sky, falling very gently and slowly--oh, what fun!--and then being rid of +all one's troubles!... And yet there was a certain fear about it. He +mustn't look any more. Or just this once ... that was grand! Once more +that awful depth, with all those tiny figures, yawned below him; and it +was the little wall that kept him up there so high, only that little +wall.... One movement, the least little yielding, the least bending over: +oh, what bliss ... and how frightful!... He became drunk with delight, +filled with the pleasure of it; he gasped, his eyes became unseeing; it +was like being wafted along, a gentle flight through the air and ... he +fell. + +Bumping against a scaffold, clutching with hands and feet; a breaking +plank, a ghastly yell ... and then a body with arms and legs outspread in +space, a thunderbolt ... a thud as of a bag of earth ... and there he +lay, stretched at full length, like a man asleep. That scream of +distress, that terrible shriek, that farewell cry of one who is going +away for good had sent something like an electric shock through all +around; work ceased and they scrambled down and stood in a great circle +around that body ... looking. And a great silence followed, that silence +which is so heavy and oppressive after the sudden stop of so much +activity. People came rushing up, pushing to get closer ... and to see. +They tore the poor devil's clothes open to find out where he was hurt, +others ran for help, while fresh swarms of folk came crowding up and the +silence died in an uproar of questions and tramping and the wailing of +women. He lay there, with his peaceful face turned to one side, lay on +his back, seemingly uninjured; a few drops of blood trickled from his +mouth. His eyes were closed like those of a man asleep. + +"Such a height to fall!... So young, only a boy!" + +Others stood chattering loudly, indifferently, as though about an +everyday occurrence, or looked up at the wall and showed one another from +where he had tumbled down. + +There was a sudden movement in the crowd; people jostled one another. + +"His mother's coming!" somebody whispered. + +They pressed closer and closer to watch the effect upon her, the women +with an anguished consciousness of what she must be suffering, that +mother-pain which they understood so well. The men pushed to see what +happened, because everybody was looking. All eyes were fixed on the +little woman who came running along, with those elderly little hurried +steps, those two anxious eyes which showed all the dread of the tragedy +they suspected. The people made way respectfully, as before one who is +privileged to approach and look upon what is hers. Those who could not +move back she dragged away mercilessly, gripping them with her hooked +fingers, which she thrust out at every side in order to see closer. It +was her ... her ... her son lying there, her own son; and she must get to +him. + +She saw him. He lay there and he was dead, the son, the child whom she +had seen leaving that morning alive and well. She stood aghast, out of +breath after the great effort of hurrying, her throat pinched with +distress and sorrow and shock, her soul filled with all the pent-up +tempest that was seeking an outlet. Her flat chest heaved and all her +thin, frail little body quivered; her legs shook beneath her. Slowly and +painfully the sobs came welling up. + +The people waited in silence, more or less disappointed, saddened by all +that silent grief. Her eyes, the eyes of a mother, stared at the dead +body; and he did not look at her and he slept on and ... and he was +asleep for ever, gone for ever: he would never see her again! This last +cut into her soul; a shrill scream came from her throat, she flung her +lean brown hands together high above her head, wrung the crooked, gnarled +fingers convulsively and then, with her fists clenched in her lap, sank +impotently to her knees, with her head against his. + +"Oh, it's such a pity, oh, it's such a pity!" she moaned; and the words +contained all the awful depth of her woe, all the concentrated sorrow. +"Oh, it's such a pity, such a pity!" she kept on repeating, finding no +other words to express her grief and lending them power by force of +repetition. + +He remained lying there ... and she remained kneeling; and all that crowd +of people stood silently looking on, startled and impressed by that +sacred, solemn mourning. And the impressive hush, the silence of all +those people, the desperate helplessness of those folk, she alone +suffering and crying and unable to help her child and the people +unwilling to help him: that impotence pierced her soul; and the patient +suffering changed into a frenzied madness, a raging fury. With a terrible +scream, like that of a goaded beast, a hoarse yell that came grating out +of her parched throat, she thrust her arms, stiff with pain, like two +steel rods, under the arms of that limp corpse and, with a superhuman +effort, with Herculean strength exalted by suffering, she lifted the +corpse, pressed it to her body, raised it with her outstretched arms and +dragged it, with its legs trailing behind it, hurrying along at a mad +pace, with the one idea of getting home with her child, her only child, +away, far away from that callous crowd which desecrated her sorrow: there +she would weep, sob out all her grief and find words, sweet words which +must throb through her child and wake him and bring him back to life! + +All that packed crowd had first followed her with their eyes, struck +by the sudden outburst of that mad rage; and then they had gone +after her, inquisitively. And it did not last long before the +police-constables--those phlegmatic posts with which any outbreak of +undue human emotion must always in the end collide--stopped them; they +pulled those bony arms from round the corpse and took the little mother, +now hanging slack and limp, one on either side by the arm and led her +away. The body was carried to the mortuary. + +With a resounding oath the foreman drove his folk back to work and set +all that rolling activity going once more. + +The passers-by hastened away; and the saw screeched, the chisel tapped, +the hammer banged, the bricks were hauled up on high and the gorgeous +building, the pride of a metropolis, stood resplendent in the glaring +white mid-day sun, as if nothing had happened. + + + + +X. WHITE LIFE + +Her life flowed on as a little brook flows under grass on a Sunday noon +in summer, flowed on in calm seclusion, far from the bustle of the crowd, +secretly, steadily, uninterrupted save by ever-recurring little +incidents, peacefully approaching old age. She sat in her little white +room, behind the muslin curtains, making lace. Her cottage stood a little +way back from the street, shining behind a neatly-raked flower-garden. + +The door was always shut and the curtains carefully drawn. Inside, +everything was very clean: smooth, bare walls and the ceiling washed with +milk-white chalk through which shone a soft touch of blue; and this +bright cleanliness contrasted soberly with the things that hung on the +wall. The chairs and furniture stood placed with care, as though nailed +to the floor; over the mantel hung the copper Christ, a thin, elongated +figure of Our Lord, with its sharp projections which shone when the sun +touched them: a little figure which, so long dead, hung there so firmly +nailed and looked so calmly from out of the small dark shadow-lines of +its face. + +The stove stood freshly blackened, with the waved white sand on its +polished pipe.[10] Over the door of the bedroom steps hung the glass case +with the waxen image of Our Lady, a girlish figure clad in broad white +folds, with bright-red, cherry cheeks, smiling sweetly upon a doll which +she carried in her arms. On the other wall was a glaring framed print, in +which a Child Jesus romped with curly-headed angels in a motley green +wood, with behind it a sunny perspective gleaming with paradisian +delights. + +[10] The Flemish stove is connected with the chimney by a flat pipe, + on which the plates and other utensils are heated. On Sundays, the + stove, the pipe and all are blacked and polished with black-lead and + turpentine; and it is an old custom of neat house-wives to powder the + stove-pipe with white sand from the dunes. The sand is allowed to run + through a little opening in the hand in a series of fine wavy lines, + forming a delicate pattern on the black pipe. + +From the ceiling, in a white cage, hung the canary, which hopped from one +perch to the other, all day long, without ever singing. On the +window-seat, behind the little curtains, blossomed tall geraniums and +phlox, which, through the mesh of the muslin curtains, sent a blissful +fragrance through the room. + +Life went its monotonous gait, measured by the slow tick of the hanging +clock, that big, stupid, laughing face which so pitilessly turned its two +unequal fingers round and round. Outside, close by, went the steel blows +of the smith's hammer or the biting file that grated against her wall. + +The sun that laughed so pleasantly through the windows and came and put +all those things in a white gleaming light beamed right through into her +little white soul: it was yet like that of a child, had remained +innocent, never been soiled or troubled; and, now that the bad storm-time +was over, it lay still in the passionless restfulness of waning life, +quite taken up with all manner of harmless occupations, devotions and +acquired ways of an old, god-fearing woman-person. Her face, which was +wreathed in a round white goffered cap, had the smooth, yellow, waxen +pallor of the statue of Our Lady, in church, and her features the severe, +sober kindliness of nuns'. She was dressed in modest, stiffly-falling +folds of unrumpled lilac silk, like the queens in old prints. + +She spent those long, quiet days at her lace-pillow. That was her only +amusement, her treasure: this half-rounded arch of smooth, blue paper on +the wooden pillow-stool, occupied by a swarm of copper pins, with +coloured-glass heads, and of finely-turned wooden bobbins, with slender +necks and notched bodies, hanging side by side from fine white threads or +heaped up behind a steel bodkin. All this array of pins, holes, drawers +and trays had for her its own form and meaning, a small world in which +she knew her way so well. Her deft white fingers knew how to throw, +change, catch and pick up those bobbins so nimbly, so swiftly; she stuck +her pins, which were to give the thread its lie and form, so accurately +and surely; and, under her hand, the lace grew slowly and imperceptibly +into a light thread network, grew with the leaves and flowers of her +geraniums and phlox and the silent course of time. + +'Twas quite a feast when, in the evening, she wound off the ravelled end +and carefully examined the white web. She closely followed all the knots, +curves and twists of those transparent little veins; and 'twas with +regret that she rolled up the lace again and put it away in the drawer. + +When all her peaceful thoughts had been fully pondered, when all that +life of every day, all that even round of happenings, like little white +flakes floating in the sunny sky, had drifted by through the +thought-chambers of her soul and when the light began to fail out of +doors and in, she took her rosary and prayed, for hours on end, slowly +telling the smooth beads between her fingers until, when it grew quite +dark, she started awake and became aware that for some time she had been +telling the strokes of the smith's hammer on the other side of the wall. +Then she laid herself between the white sheets and tried to sleep. + +Two days ago the grid of her stove broke and today she had taken it to be +mended; she had been to the smith's and now she could not get out of her +mind what she had seen there: a black cave, like an oven, down three +steps; a dark hole hung and filled on every side with black iron tools; +and, amid all this jumble, an anvil and, in the red glow from the dancing +light of the smithy fire, a small, stunted, black little fellow, hidden +out of knowledge in that gloom; a bent, thin little man wound in a +leathern apron and with a black face, from which a pair of good-humoured +eyes peered out at her, through the shining glasses of his copper-rimmed +spectacles, like two little lights in the dark. She had gone down those +three steps, looking round shyly, afraid of getting dirty; had explained +her business to that impish little chap; and had then hastily fled from +that hell. Now it seemed to her that those two eyes had looked at her so +kindly; and she wondered how any one could live in such a hole and be a +Christian creature ... and yet that smith looked as if he had a good +heart. + +Next day, she was thinking again of the little man and his dark, haunted +hole; and she sniffed the scent of her geraniums with a new pleasure and +looked with more gladness at her trim little dwelling and her +lace-pillow. She now enjoyed, realized, with all the sensual luxury of +her soul, that peaceful life of hers, something like that of the yellow, +waxen Virgin high up there on the wall, under her glass shade. And yet +she was sorry for her good neighbour: it must be so dreary alone, amid +all that dirt.... She worked at her lace, prayed and tried to think of +nothing more. + +He brought the new grid home himself. At first, she was shy with the man: +she got up, went to the stove, turned back again and only now and then +dared look at the smith from under her eyes. He was wrapped up in his +work, stood bending over the stove, trying to fix the grid. Seen like +that in the light, the little chap looked quite different to her eyes: he +was no longer young, his breath came quickly; but in all that he did +there was something so friendly, so kindly, something almost +well-mannered, that went oddly with his dirty clothes and his black face. +The little smith was known in the village as a lively person, who led a +lonely life, but who was able also to divert a company: he knew his +customers and knew how to manage them all. Here he took good care not to +dirty the floor: he spat his tobacco-juice into the coal-box and touched +nothing with his hands. When at last the grid was fixed, he stayed +talking a little: he spoke of her nice little life among all those white +things; paid her a compliment on her pretty flowers and shining copper; +and then came close to look at her lace-pillow. Lastly, seeing that she +was not at her ease, that she answered his remarks so shortly and +hesitatingly, he gave a push to his cap, refused to say what she owed him +and was gone with a skip and a jump. + +One Sunday, after vespers, he came again, bowed politely, fetched a bit +of paper out of his waistcoat-pocket and sat down on a chair by the +stove. This visit annoyed her: with the quickness with which small-minded +people weigh and think over a matter, her eyes went to the window to see +if anybody had observed him come in and was likely to set evil tongues +a-clacking. It was almost bound to be so; and, to keep her honour safe, +she opened her door, mumbling something about "warm weather" and "the +tobacco-smoke which made her cough." + +She went to her room, fetched some money and paid the bill. The smith sat +where he was, knocked out his little stone pipe and put it in his inside +pocket; he did not look at his money and, in his hoarse little voice, +began to talk of quite common things: of wind and weather and the current +news of the village; always chatting in the same tone, a jumble of long, +breathless statements. From this he went on to his dreary, lonely life, +the monotonous quiet of it and the danger of thieves, sickness and sudden +death. She said not a word, but, against the bright window-curtains, the +sharp, heavy profile of her face, together with the flutes of her white +cap, went up and down in a continual nodding assent to everything he +said. At the end, she took pleasure in hearing him talk, nor now looked +upon that clean-washed face of his as at all so ugly. It even did her +good to see some one sitting there who came to enliven the monotony of +that long Sunday evening. By her leave, he had lighted a fresh pipe; and +she now sat sniffing up that unaccustomed smell, which rose in little +puffs from behind the stove and floated round the room, filling it with +long rows of blue curls. 'Twas as if she were overcome by that quite new +smell of tobacco and she felt inclined to sleep; she stood up, to get rid +of that slackness, shut the front-door and, without thinking what she was +doing, asked if he would have some coffee. He nodded, gladly. + +She put the kettle on and got the coffee-pot ready, fetched out her best +cups and spoons and the white sugar. When the steam came rushing from the +spout, she poured water on the coffee and they sat down, one on each side +of the table, to sip the savoury drink in tiny draughts. 'Twas long since +she had felt so comfortable and for the first time she thought with +dislike of her lonely life. 'Twas late when he went home; she came with +him to the door ... and saw black figures that strolled past in the +street and perhaps had seen him leave. She had bad dreams all night: the +people pointed their fingers at her and slanderous tongues spread ugly +things about her. The whole of the next day her thoughts were in the +smithy; she swept the pavement more carefully and farther than usual, +went now and then and looked out of window; and her little curtains were +left open with a split in the middle. Yesterday, she had forgotten to +give the canary fresh water to drink. The people looked at her in the +street; two or three god-fearing gossips had let her walk home alone. +This gave her great pain; 'twas as though a heavy load were weighing day +and night on her breast; and yet she was not sorry for what had happened. +All these trifles could not make her forget her content. She said her +prayers and performed her little duties with as much care as before and +lived on, alone. + +On Sunday, she went to church very early and prayed long: it did her so +much good, that delightful whispering with God, that sweet kind Lord Who +listened to her so patiently and always sent her away with fresh courage, +strengthened to walk on bravely along life's irksome way. Sometimes she +was frightened at her behaviour! She was gnawed by a reproachful thought: +that she had left the straight path, that she no longer lived for God +alone, that she was forgetting her dear saints and busy with sinful +thoughts. And yet, when she carefully considered everything, nothing had +happened that seemed to her blameworthy; all that change in her life had +come as of itself and in spite of herself; and really, after all, there +was no harm in it. She prayed for that good man, who certainly needed her +spiritual aid: he went so seldom to church and lived in such a dreary +black hole. Her prayers and interest would for sure bring him to a better +frame of mind. And yet she must watch, keep strong, avoid the dangers: +her honour was a tender thing; and people were wicked. She stayed longer +than usual in the confessional and offered special prayers to every saint +in the church. + +When she was back at home, she began her little Sunday duties: the +lace-pillow was put away that day and she did nothing but arrange things, +put things in their places, gather a fresh nosegay for the porcelain vase +before Our Lady's statue and see to her cooking. She picked the withered +leaves from the geraniums, bound the branches of the phlox to the trellis +and gave them fresh water from a little flowered can. She was specially +fond of her little pot of musk: it stood on the window-seat, opposite her +chair, carefully set in a rush cage stuck into the earth and fastened at +the top with a thread. Sometimes she took it on her lap, bent her face +over it and sniffed the pleasant smell in long draughts, until she was +almost drunk with it. + +In the afternoon, she sat down at the window and read her Thomas a +Kempis. Then all was quite still: no hammering behind the wall, no boys +in the street, only the soft tapping of the canary in his food-trough and +the tick of the pendulum; everything was quiet as though in an enchanted +sleep. The sun glowed through the geranium-leaves and cast on the +red-tiled floor a broad, round shadow which took the whole afternoon to +creep from the legs of the stove to the front-door. + +The flies buzzed round on the rafters of the ceiling or ran along the +cracks of the white-scoured table. Her thoughts wandered wearily and +lazily through the wise maxims of her book and she sometimes sat peering +at the funny shape of a coloured initial which, after long looking, +became such a silly figure, one that no longer looked in the least like a +letter, but was rather something in the form of a vice.... The lines of +print ran into one another, the maxims said all sorts of foolish things, +her eyes closed, her head nodded and she sank, with all those peaceful +things, into perfect rest. + +After dinner, the smith had had a sleep; then he washed his face, put on +his best clothes and went past her window to vespers. In the evening, she +saw him again when he went to the customers for a pot of beer: this time +he gave her a friendly nod. + +For her, Sunday passed like all the other days; she prayed longer and +closed her shutter earlier for fear of the drunkards. After saying a long +row of graces which she knew by heart, she went to her bedroom. In the +stuffy air of that closed upper chamber, she lay thinking. She was not +sleepy and it was nice, in the evening stillness, covered in her white +sheets, to lie with her eyes looking through the split in the white +curtains at the moon which hung shining outside. + +Now she gave free scope to her thoughts, until all of that had again been +pondered round and pondered out. Then it became so funny to her: 'twas as +if she were long dead now and floating in a pale and scented air in the +company of sweet saints and angels. But it was oh, so hazy and +indistinct! It always escaped her when she wanted to enjoy it more +closely and to give the thing a name. + +It was night when the smith came home, a little tipsy, deceived by his +great thirst and the double effect of the beer in that warm weather. He +was very cheery, without really knowing why; something like a soft +buzzing fire ran through all his body and made him tingle with happiness. +They had chaffed him that evening about the old maid next door and he now +felt inclined just to tell her about it. + +Wasn't it a shame for two people to lie here so quietly and drearily, +parted by a bit of a wall, when they could have been amusing each +other?... His white neighbour was sure to be asleep by now ... and, if he +only dared ... and, quicker indeed than he intended, he gave three little +taps on the wall and lay listening, all agog.... Three like little taps +answered! This was so unexpected that at first he sat wondering whether +he could believe his ears; then he began to swim and sprawl in his bed, +bit his teeth so as not to shout out his overflowing delight and started +banging on the wall, this time with his fists. It was too late to-night: +to-morrow, he would go to her and ask her ... and then they would +both ... and he would no longer be alone, always alone, and would have +some one to care for him, to look after him.... In all this happiness he +drowsed off gently, rocked in another world, like a little wax doll in a +pale-blue paper box. + +She had started out of her sleep at those three taps and had answered, +not knowing why; then she had got frightened at that wild man behind her +wall, had jumped out of bed and struck a light and sat waiting until the +noise stopped; then she commended her soul into the Lord's hands and fell +softly asleep. + +The first time that he went to see her, he found the door shut. Once, +when he met her in the street, she kept her eyes carefully cast down and +passed him without a sign of greeting. Her curtains remained drawn and +she never came to the door now. He went home and sat musing on his anvil. +All his plan was blown to bits; he found himself sadly duped and turned +red with anger when folk spoke of his dear neighbour. He hammered and +filed from morning till night; and she must now be making her lace. + +Time pushed past, divided into even days, along a smooth road that led +down the mountain-slope of summer. The leaves fell from the geraniums and +the phlox. The neatly-cut-out paper fly-catcher was put away and the lamp +hung up in its place. With the sad, short days came the grey, misty sky, +the dismal, dripping rain and the white snow. The village lay dead for +half the day, dark, with here and there a little ray of light gleaming +through the shutters. + +And it became gradually drearier for her: that calm rest, in which she +had once found such a pure delight, was now a heavy weariness. She longed +for change, for something different which she could not justly define, or +else to live again as before, alone and with nothing but herself. She had +struggled and fought to rid herself of that obsession, but it followed +her everywhere: she saw him go by, even when her eyes were fixed on the +lace-pillow, the stove, or the chair on which he had sat; and there was +that constant hammering and scratching behind her wall: everywhere she +saw those two kind eyes behind the copper rims of his spectacles; and she +sometimes caught herself contentedly tracing the good-natured features of +his little black face. She had prayed more than ever and evoked quite new +saints; and now she let herself drift along at God's pleasure, no longer +even thinking of her weakness. Perhaps she was the instrument of a +Blessed Providence, destined blindly to do good. + +The little curtains had long been pushed apart again; and, each time that +she heard approaching footsteps, her heart went beating and her eyes +looked eagerly to see if by chance ... it was not he. + +Sometimes, an anxious fluttering drove her to the front-door, where she +stood looking round for a while and then, ashamed of herself, went +indoors again. Quite against her habit, she now made use of her glass: in +the middle of her work, she went to see if the two glossy black tresses +lay neatly on her forehead and if the ribbons of her cap were properly +tied and fastened. She put on her clothes more carefully and folded and +refolded her kerchief till it enclosed her body in a pretty shape. From +before the moment of starting for church, her heart began to beat; she +shut her garden-gate more noisily and stepped loudly along the pavement +until she came to the smith's first window, firmly resolved this time at +least to look up and say good-morning; but she always met some one who +noticed her; and she was in church by the time that, with a sigh, she had +put off her intention until next day. + +At night, in bed, she lay thinking over all these little events; and it +was a glad day or a sad day for her according as she had more or less +often caught sight of the little smith. + +One evening, after benediction, she saw him come walking under the trees +of the churchyard. Not a soul saw them. Now she really must have courage; +but again the blood came to her throat and she felt that once again it +would lead to nothing. He had just looked round before she came up to him +and then he sat down on the stone step before the Calvary, as though he +wanted to chat with her there at his ease: + +"Good-evening, Sofie," he said, with a smile. "Have you been to say your +prayers. Don't you ever say a little one for me? I want it so badly: my +soul's as black as my apron and I can't even read a prayer-book...." + +He made all this speech in a soft, fondling little tone and then sat +smirking to see what she would say. There was nothing that she longed for +more than to save his soul: + +"Can you say the Rosary?" she asked. + +"Yes, but I haven't one." + +"Would you like me to give you one?" + +"Oh, rather ... if you'll be so good!" + +She bent close to him and whispered in his ear: + +"Come and fetch it, to-morrow evening, when it's dark." + +They walked together through the peaceful twilit churchyard and, with a +cordial "Good-evening," went home well pleased with themselves. + +For her it was an endless day; all the time she stood considering what +she should say to him. He was coming and would sit smoking there again +behind the stove. Already she heard his pleasant, whispering talk and saw +his kind, upturned glance. She moved about restlessly to set everything +in order. The shutters were closed quite early and the lamp burning. Now +she went and had one more look outside and it was pitch-dark, with never +a moon. On the stroke of eight, the door opened: he was there, with his +Sunday jacket on, his red scarf and his leather shoes. She was most +friendly, but did not at first know how to begin the conversation. + +He lit his pipe and snuffled some news of the village and of people who +were married, sick or dead. She made coffee, turned up the lamp and +opened her bedroom door to give an outlet to the tobacco-smoke. Straight +opposite him, deep in the half-darkness, he saw all that show of white: +against the wall stood the bed, under a white canopy of curtains hanging +in folds, set off with a white ball-fringe; also a praying-desk with +velvet cushions, above which was an image of the Sacred Heart, with gold +flowers, and, hanging from a brass chain, a perpetual light glimmering in +a little red glass; and, all around, on the white walls, little statues +and pictures, like a devout little tabernacle ashine with cleanliness. +They drank their fragrant cup of coffee and nibbled lumps of white sugar. + +"And my rosary?" he asked. + +She fetched it out of the drawer of her lace pillow and came and sat +close to him to teach him how to say it: + +"Here, at the little cross, the I Believe in God the Father; then, at +each big bead, an Our Father; and, at the little ones, a Hail Mary." + +He sat with his legs drawn under his chair, with one hand at his chin, +listening good-humouredly and, with a smile, repeating all she taught +him. Her eyes shone with happiness. Now the talk went easily on church +matters and all the things of her pious little life; she showed him the +pictures in her prayer-book, explained all the attributes of the saints +and told long stories of their lives and martyrdoms. + +He, also, told her of his youth, when he made his first communion and was +the best little man in the whole village. It was striking ten when he +went home; and he had promised to come and listen to her again. + +Every evening, when it grew dark, he sat peeping to see if there was no +one in the street and then cautiously crept in through her gate. He +brought her old books from his loft; and, while he smoked his pipe, she +lit the candle before the statue of Our Lady and started talking, very +gently, so as not to be heard outside. She read whole chapters out of +Thomas a Kempis and _The Pious Pilgrim_, _The Dove amongst the Rocks_, +_The Spiritual Bridegroom_, or _The Sacred Meditations_. They sat there +for hours at a time gazing at each other and smiling. When it grew late, +she went and looked outside and, when the moment was favourable, she +carefully let him out. She thanked Our Lord for making her so happy and +often prayed that it might last and she win the smith's soul for Heaven +and that their doing might all the same be kept hidden from wicked +people. + +St. Eloi's Day is the holiday of smiths and husbandmen. In the morning, +the farmers all went together to mass and thence, after a glass, to +settle their yearly reckoning at the smith's. At noon there was a big +dinner at the inn. They ate much and drank more; and, from afternoon till +late in the evening, the smiths' men and the peasants loafed along the +streets and sang ribald songs. The steadiest of them walked about +talking, from one tavern to the other. They were nearly all drunk. She +sat peeping at it from behind her curtain and was vexed at all this +wantonness and rather glad that she had not yet seen "him" anywhere. She +said her evening prayers and was just going to bed when she heard the +door open and the smith stepped in. + +He carried his pipe upside down in his mouth, his eyes looked wild and +his speech was incoherent. She had never seen him like that; and she was +frightened at his strange gestures. She wanted him to sit down, but he +came up to her with his arms open, as if to catch hold of her. She +stepped back in affright, pushed him away from her. His breath stank of +drink and his thin legs tottered under him. She began to beseech him, +that it was late and that he should go home and that people would +know.... But his eyes looked at her roguishly and, with bent head and +outstretched arms, he kept on trying to come closer. Filled with dread, +she wavered away behind the tables and chairs, whimpering: + +"If you please, if you please, Sander, go home; you frighten me!" + +Suddenly, he nipped out the flame of the lamp with his fingers. It was +quite dark. + +"Sander! Sander! What do you want? Heavens! He's drunk! And I'm here all +alone! Lord God, St. Catherine, help!" + +He still spoke not a word, but uttered ugly growls; and she heard his +hands rub and grope along the wall, against herself. She pulled open the +door of her bedroom and fled up the stairs and fell in a heap in the +corner beside her bed. There she sat waiting, out of breath.... Yes, his +heavy shoes had found the steps; and, still growling, he entered the +room. He felt the bed, lay down flat on his stomach and reached out with +his arms; then he found her sitting sighing. She felt those two weedy +arms grasp her and was caught in them as in an iron band. She moaned and +screamed for help. His dirty, slimy mouth pressed her lips ... and then +she felt herself sink away, out of the world. The people who heard the +cries came to see what was the matter. They hauled the drunkard outside +and laid her on the bed. When they saw that she was better, they went +away again. + +She lay stretched out slackly in the dark. First, still quite overcome, +as though drunk with sleep, she slowly, through that dim whirl of stormy +thoughts, came to understand what had happened: all her misfortune, which +yawned before her like a deep, black well. She was ashamed, disgusted +with herself and felt a great aversion, a loathing for all the world: +people were a pack of lustful pigs.... And he too: that was over now, +suddenly over, for good and all.... And he ... no, he had deceived her, +grievously defiled her. And now to have to go on living like that! It was +done past recall: she was punished for her trustfulness ... and those +same kind eyes and that friendly face; only yesterday, they had said +their evening prayers together and so devoutly! Oh, 'twas such a pity! +And what would people say?... And the priest?... And Our Lord and all His +dear saints?... She fell into ever-deepening despair and saw never a way +out. Very far away shone her pure little life of former days, her white +and peaceful little soul floating in that unruffled blue sanctity, in +that fragrant twilight of evening after evening ... and all this he had +now crushed in one second and stamped to pieces. And he was dead to her, +he with whom she had dreamed so sweetly and lived in glad expectation. In +her wretchedness, she was left stark alone, abandoned like a poor babe in +the snow. She plunged her face into the white sheets and cried. She would +have liked to pine away there, in that kindly darkness, and never, never +to see daylight again. + + + + +XI. THE END + +Zeen pulled up his bent back, wiped the sweat from his forehead with his +bare arm and drew a short breath. + +Zalia, with her head close to the ground, went on binding her sheaves. + +The sun was blazing. + +After a while, Zeen took up his sickle again and went on cutting down the +corn. With short, even strokes, with a swing of his arm, the sickle rose +and, with a "d-zin-n-n" fell at the foot of the cornstalks and brought +them down in great armfuls. Then they were hooked away and dragged back +in little even heaps, ready to be bound up. + +It did not last long: he stopped again, looked round over all that power +of corn which still had to be cut and beyond, over that swarming plain, +which lay scorching, so hugely far, under that merciless sun. He saw +Zalia look askant because he did not go on working and, to account for +his resting, drew his whetstone from his trouser-pocket and began slowly +to sharpen the sickle. + +"Zalia, it's so hot." + +"Yes, it's that," said Zalia. + +He worked on again, but slowly, very slackly. + +The sweat ran in great drops down his body; and sometimes he felt as if +he would tumble head foremost into the corn. Zalia heard his breath come +short and fast; she looked at him and asked what was the matter. His arms +dropped feebly to his sides; and the hook and sickle fell from his hands. + +"Zalia, I don't know ... but something's catching my breath like; and my +eyes are dim...." + +"It's the heat, Zeen, it'll wear off. Take a pull." + +She fetched the bottle of gin from the grass edge of the field, poured a +sip down his throat and stood looking to see how it worked: + +"Well?" + +Zeen did not answer, but stood there shivering and staring, with his eyes +fixed on a bluebonnet in the cut corn. + +"Come, come, Zeen, get it done! Have just another try: it'll get cooler +directly and we'll be finished before dark." + +"Oh, Zalia, it's so awfully hot here and it'll be long before it's +evening!" + +"But, Zeen, what do you feel?" + +Zeen made no movement. + +"Are you ill?" + +"Yes, I am, Zalia. No, not ill, but I feel so queer and I think I ought +to go home." + +Zalia did not know what to do: she was frightened and did not understand +his funny talk. + +"If you're ill ... if you can't go on, you'd better get home quick: +you're standing there like a booby." + +Zeen left his sickle on the ground and went straight off the field. She +saw him go slowly, the poor old soul, lurching like a drunken man, and +disappear behind the trees. Then she took her straw-band and bundled up +all the little heaps of corn, one after the other, and bound them into +sheaves. She next took the sickle and the hook and just went cutting away +like a man: stubbornly, steadily, with a frenzied determination to get it +done. The more the corn fell, the quicker she made the sickle whizz. + +The sweat ran down her face; now and then, she jogged back the straw hat +from over her eyes to see how much was left standing and then went on +cutting, on and on. She panted in the doing of it.... She was there +alone, on that outstretched field, in that heat which weighed upon her +like a heavy load; it was stifling. She heard no sound besides the swish +of her steel and the rustling of the falling corn. + +When at last she could go on no longer, she took a sip at the bottle and +got new strength. + +The sun was low in the sky when she stood there alone on the smooth +field, with all the corn lying flat at her feet. Then she started +binding. + +The air grew cooler. When the last sheaf was fastened in its straw-band +and they now stood set up in heavy stooks, like black giants in straight +rows, it began to grow dark. She wiped the sweat from her face, slipped +on her blue striped jacket, put the bottle in her hat, took the sickle +and hook on her shoulder and, before going, stood for a while looking at +her work. She could now see so very far across that close-shorn plain; +she stood there so alone, so tall in that stubble-field, everything lay +so flat and, far away over there, the trees stood black and that mill and +the fellow walking there: all as though drawn with ink on the sky. It +seemed to her as if the summer was now past and that heavy sultriness was +a last cramped sigh before the coming of the short days and the cold. + +She went home. Zeen was ill and it was so strange to be going back +without him. It was all so dreary, so dim and deadly, so awful. Along the +edge of the deep sunken path the grasshoppers chirped here and there, all +around her: an endless chirping on every side, all over the grass and the +field; and it went like a gentle woof of voices softly singing. This +singing at last began to chatter in her ears and it became a whining +rustle, a deafening tumult and a painful laughter. From behind the +pollard her cat jumped on to the path: it had come to the field to meet +her and, purring cosily, was now arching its back and loitering between +Zalia's legs until she stroked it; then it ran home before her with great +bounds. The goat, hearing steps approach, put its head over the +stable-door and began to bleat. + +The house-door was open; as she went in, Zalia saw not a thing before her +eyes, but she heard something creaking on the floor. It was Zeen, trying +to scramble to his feet when he heard her come in. + +"Zeen!" she cried. + +"Yes," moaned Zeen. + +"How are you? No better yet? Where are you?... Why are you lying flat on +the floor like this?" + +"Zalia, I'm so ill ... my stomach and...." + +"You've never been ill yet, Zeen! It won't be anything this time." + +"I'm ill now, Zalia." + +"Wait, I'll get a light. Why aren't you in bed?" + +"In bed, in bed ... then it'll be for good, Zalia; I'm afraid of my bed." + +She felt along the ceiling for the lamp, then in the corner of the hearth +for the tinder-box; she struck fire and lit up. + +Zeen looked pale, yellow, deathlike. Zalia was startled by it, but, to +comfort him: + +"It'll be nothing, Zeen," she said. "I'll give you a little Haarlem oil." + +She pulled him on to a chair, fetched the little bottle, put a few drops +into a bowl of milk and poured it down his throat. + +"Is it doing you good?" + +And Zeen, to say something, said: + +"Yes, it is, Zalia, but I'd like to go to sleep, I'm feeling cold now and +I've got needles sticking into my side ... here, see?" + +And he pressed both his hands on the place. + +"Yes, you're better in bed; it'll be gone in the morning and we'll fetch +in the corn." + +"Is it cut?" + +"All done and stooked; if it keeps fine to-morrow, we'll get it all into +the barn." + +Zalia lifted him under his armpits and they crawled on like that into the +other room, where the loom stood with the bed behind it. She helped him +take off his jacket and trousers and put him to bed, tucked him nicely +under the blanket and put his night-cap on his head. + +Then she went and lit the fire in the hearth, hung up the pot with the +goat's food, washed the potatoes and sat down to peel them for supper. + +She had not peeled three, when she heard Zeen bringing up. + +"That's the oil, it'll do him good," she thought and, fetching a can of +water from outside, gave him a bowl to drink. + +Then she went back to her peeling. A bit later, she sat thinking of other +remedies--limeflowers, sunflower-seeds, pearl barley, flowers of +sulphur--when suddenly she saw Mite Kornelje go by. She ran out and +called: + +"Mite!" + +"What is it, Zalia?" + +"Mite, Zeen is ill." + +"What, ill? All at once?" + +"Yes, all of a sudden, cutting the corn in the field." + +"Is he bad?" + +"I don't know, I've given him some Haarlem oil, he's been sick; he's +complaining of pains in his side and in his stomach; he's very pale: you +wouldn't know him." + +They went indoors. Zalia took the lamp and both passed in, between the +loom and the wall by Zeen's bed. + +He lay staring at the ceiling and catching his breath. Mite stood looking +at him. + +"You must give him some English salt,[11] Zalia." + +[11] Epsom salts. + +"Why, Mite, I never thought of that; yes, he must have some English +salt." + +And she climbed on to a chair and took from the plank above the bed a +dusty calabash full of little paper bags and packets. + +She opened them one by one and found canary-seed, blacklead, +washing-blue, powdered cloves, cinnamon, sugar-candy, burnt-ash ... but +no English salt. + +"I'll run home and fetch some, Zalia." + +"Yes, Mite, do." + +And Mite went off. + +"Well, Zeen, no better yet?" + +Zeen did not answer. She took a pail of water and a cloth, cleaned away +the mess from beside the bed and then went back to peel her potatoes. + +Mite came back with the English salt. Treze Wizeur and Stanse Zegers, who +had heard the news, also came to see how Zeen was getting on. Mite +stirred a handful of the salt in a bowl of water and they all four went +to the sick man's bed. Zeen swallowed the draught without blinking. Mite +knew of other remedies, Stanse knew of some too and Treze of many more: +they asked Zeen questions and babbled to him, made him put out his tongue +and felt his pulse, cried out at his gasping for breath and his pale +colour and his dilated pupils and his burning fever. Zeen did not stir +and lay looking at the ceiling. When he was tired of the noise, he said: + +"Leave me alone." + +And he turned his face to the wall. + +Then they all went back to the kitchen. The goat's food was done. Zalia +hung the kettle with water on the hook and made coffee; and the four +women sat round the table telling one another stories of illness. In the +other room there was no sound. + +A bit later, Mite's little girl came to see where mother was all this +time. She was given a lump of sugar and sat down by her mother. + +"Zalia, have you only one lamp?" asked Treze. + +"That's all, Treze, but I have the candle." + +"What candle?" + +"The blessed candle." + +"We've not come to that yet: it's only that Zeen has to lie in the dark +like this and we have to go to and fro with the lamp to look at him." + +"Zeen would rather lie in the dark." + +"I'll tell you what: Fietje shall run home and fetch something, won't +you, Fietje? And say that mother is going to stay here because Zeen is +dying." + +Fietje went off. The coffee was ready and when they had gulped down their +first bowl, they went to have another look in the room where the sick man +lay. + +Zeen was worse. + +"We must sit up with him," said Stanse. + +"For sure," said Treze. "I'll go and tell my man: I'll be back at once." + +"Tell Free as you're passing that I'm staying here too," said Stanse. + +"We must eat, for all that," said Zalia; and she hung the potatoes over +the fire. + +Then she went to milk the goat and take it its food. It was bright as day +outside and quiet, so very quiet, with still some of the heat of the sun +lingering in the air, which weighed sultrily. She crept into the dark +goat-house, put down the pot with the food and started milking. + +"Betje, Betje, Zeen is so ill; Zeen may be dying, Betje!" + +She always clacked to her goat like that. Two streams of milk came +clattering in turns into the little pail. + +People came: Treze and Mite's little girl, with a lantern, and Barbara +Dekkers, who had also come to have a look. + +"I'm here," said Zalia, "I've done, I'm coming at once." + +They stood talking a bit outside in the moonlight and then went in. + +"Perhaps my man'll come on," said Treze. "A man is better than three +women in illness; and Virginie's coming too: I've been to tell her." + +"Well, well," said Barbara, "who'd ever have thought it of Zeen!" + +"Yes, friends, and never been ill in his life; and he turned seventy." + +Stanse mashed the potatoes; Zalia poured a drain of milk over them and +hung them over the fire again. + +"Have you all had your suppers?" she asked. + +"Yes," said Treze and Barbara and Mite. + +"I haven't," said Stanse. + +Zalia turned the steaming potato-mash into an earthen porringer and she +and Stanse sat down to it. The others drank a fresh bowl of coffee. + +They were silent. + +The door opened and from behind the screen came a great big fellow with a +black beard: + +"What's up here? A whole gathering of people: is it harvest-treat to-day, +Zalia? Why, here's Barbara and Mite and...." + +"Warten, Zeen is ill." + +"Zeen?... Ill?" + +"Yes, ill, man, and we're sitting up." + +Warten opened wide eyes, flung the box which he carried over his shoulder +by a leather strap to the ground and sat down on it: + +"Ha! So Zeen's ill... he's not one of the youngest either." + +"Seventy-five." + +They were silent. The womenfolk drank their coffee. Warten fished out a +pipe and tobacco from under his blue smock and sat looking at the rings +of smoke that wound up to the ceiling. + +"Well, perhaps I've come at the right time, if that's so." + +"You can help sit up." + +"Have you had your supper, Warten?" + +"Yes, Zalia, at the farm." + +"And how's trade?" asked Stanse. + +"Quietly, old girl." + +They heard a moaning in the other room. Barbara lit the lantern and all +went to look. Warten stayed behind, smoking. + +Zeen lay there, on a poverty-stricken little bed, low down near the +ground, behind the loom, huddled deep on his bolster under a dirty +blanket: a thin little black chap, leaning against a pillow in the +dancing twilight of the lantern. His eyes were closed and his bony face +half-hidden in the blue night-cap. His breath rustled; and each puff from +his hoarse throat, blowing out the thin flesh of his cheeks, escaped +through a little opening on one side of his sunken lips, which each time +opened and shut. + +"Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!" cried Barbara. + +"That's bad, that's bad," said Stanse and shook her head. + +"His eyes are shut and yet he's not asleep!" + +"Zeen! Zeen!" cried Mite and she pushed him back by his forehead to make +him look up. "Zeen! Zeen! It's I: don't you know Mite?" + +"Oof!" sighed Zeen; and his head dropped down again without his eyes +opening. + +"He's got the fever," said Barbara. "Just feel how his forehead's burning +and he's as hot as fire." + +"Haven't you poulticed him?" asked Stanse. "He wants poultices on his +feet: mustard." + +"We haven't any mustard and it's far to the village." + +"Then he must have a bran bath, Zalia. Stanse, put on the kettle." + +"Have you any bran, Zalia?" + +"No, not ready; but there's maize." + +"And a sieve?" + +"Yes, there's a sieve." + +"Hi, Warten, come and sift!" + +Warten came in: + +"Zeen, how are you, my boy? Oh, how thin he is! And his breath ... it's +spluttering, that's bad. He'll go off quickly, Barbara, it seems to me." + +"Not to-night," said Treze. + +"Warten, go to the loft, take the lamp and sift out a handful of maize; +Zeen must have a bran bath at once." + +Warten went up the stair. After a while, they heard above their heads the +regular, jogging drag of the sieve over the boarded ceiling and the fine +meal-dust snowed down through the cracks, whirling round the lamp, and +fell on Zeen's bed and on the women standing round. + +Zeen nodded his head. They held a bowl of milk to his mouth; two little +white streaks ran down from the corners of his mouth into his +shirt-collar. + +The sieve went on dragging. The women looked at Zeen, then at one another +and then at the lantern. In the kitchen, the kettle sang drearily.... + +Warten came down from the loft with half a pailful of bran. Barbara +poured the steaming water on it and flung in a handful of salt. + +They took the clothes off the bed and pulled his feet into the +bran-water. Zeen groaned; he opened his eyes wide and looked round wildly +at all those people. + +He hung there for a very long time, with his lean black legs out of the +bed and the bony knees and shrunk thighs in the insipid, sickly-smelling +steam of the bran-water. Then they lifted him out and stuck his wet feet +under the bedclothes again. Zeen did not stir, but just lay with the +rattle in his throat. + +"What a sad sick man," said Stanse, softly. + +Mite wanted to give him some food, eggs: it might be faintness. + +Treze wanted to bring him round with gin: her husband had once.... + +"Is there any, for the night?..." asked Stanse. + +"There's a whole bottle over there, in the cupboard." + +Zeen opened his eyes--two green, glazed eyes, which no longer saw +things--and wriggled his arms from under the clothes: + +"Why don't you make the goat stop bleating?" he stammered. + +They looked at one another. + +"Zalia, why won't you speak to me?... And what are all these people doing +here?... I don't want any one to help me die!... I and Zalia.... I and +Zalia.... Look, how beautiful! Zalia, the procession's going up the wall +there.... Why don't you look?... It's so beautiful!... And I, I'm the +only ugly one in it...." + +"He's wandering," whispered Treze. + +"And what's that chap doing here, Zalia?" + +"It's I, Zeen, I: Warten the spectacle-man." + +His eyes fell to again and his cheeks again blew the breath through the +little slit of his mouth. It rattled; and the fever rose. + +"It'll be to-night," said Treze. + +"Where can Virginie be? She'll come too late." + +"Virginie is better than three doctors or a priest either," thought Mite. + +"Zalia, I think I'd get out the candle." + +Zalia went to the chest and got out the candle. + +"Mother, I'm frightened," whined Fietje. + +"You mustn't be frightened of dead people, child; you must get used to +it." + +"Have you any holy water, Zalia?" + +"Oh, yes, Barbara: it's in the little pot over the bed!" + +"And blessed palm?" + +"Behind the crucifix." + +There was a creaking in the kitchen and Virginie appeared past the loom: +a little old woman huddled in her hooded cloak; in one hand she carried a +little lantern and in the other a big prayer-book. She came quietly up to +the bed, looked at Zeen for some time, felt his pulse and then, looking +up, said, very quietly: + +"Zeen's going.... Has the priest been?" + +"The priest?... It's so far and so late and the poor soul's so old...." + +"What have you given him?" + +"Haarlem oil, English salt...." + +"And we put his feet in bran water." + +Virginie stood thinking. + +"Have you any linseed-meal?" she asked. + +"No." + +"Then ... but it's too late now, any way...." + +And she looked into the sick man's eyes again. + +"He's very far gone," thought Mite. + +"Got worse quickly," said Barbara. + +Zalia said nothing; she stood at the foot of the bed, looking at her +husband and then at the women who were saying what they thought of him. + +"Get the blessed candle; we must pray, good people," said Virginie; and +she put on her spectacles and went and stood with her book under the +light. + +The women knelt on low chairs or on the floor. Warten stood with his +elbows leaning on the rail of the bed, at Zeen's head. Treze took the +blessed candle out of its paper covering and lit it at the lamp. + +Zeen's chest rose and fell and his throat rattled painfully; his eyes +stood gazing dimly at the rafters of the ceiling; his thin lips were pale +and his face turned blue with the pain; he no longer looked like a living +thing. + +Virginie read very slowly, with a dismal, drawling voice, through her +nose, while Treze held Zeen's weak fingers closed round the candle. It +was still as death. + +"May the Light of the World, Christ Jesus, Who is symbolized by this +candle, brightly light thy eyes that thou mayest not depart this life in +death everlasting. Our Father...." + +They softly muttered this Our Father and it remained solemnly still, with +only Warten's rough grunting and Zeen's painful breathing and the goat +which kept ramming its head against the wall. And then, slower by +degrees: + +"Depart, O Christian soul, from this sorrowful world; go to meet thy dear +Bridegroom, Christ Jesus, and carry a lighted candle in thy hands: He +Who...." + +Then Barbara, interrupting her, whispered: + +"Look, Virginie, he's getting worse; the rattle's getting fainter: turn +over, you'll be too late." + +Treze was tired of holding Zeen's hand round the candle: she spilt a few +drops of wax on the rail of the bed and stuck the candle on it. + +Zeen jerked himself up, put his hands under the clothes and fumbled with +them; then he lay still. + +"He's packing up," whispered Barbara. + +"He's going," one of the others thought. + +Virginie dipped the palm-branch into the holy water and sprinkled the bed +and the bystanders; then she read on: + +"Go forth, O Christian soul, out of this world, in the name of God the +Father Almighty, Who created thee, in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son +of the living God, Who suffered for thee; in the name of the Holy Ghost, +Who sanctified thee." + +"Hurry, hurry, Virginie: he's almost stopped breathing!" + +The cat jumped between Zalia and Treze on to the bed and went making +dough with its front paws on the clothes; it looked surprised at all +those people and purred softly. Warten drove it away with his cap. + +"Receive, O Lord, Thy servant Zeen into the place of salvation which he +hopes to obtain through Thy mercy." + +"Amen," they all answered. + +"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of Thy servant from all danger of hell and +from all pain and tribulation." + +"Amen." + +"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of Thy servant Zeen, as Thou deliveredst Enoch +and Elias from the common death of the world." + +"Amen." + +"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of Thy servant Zeen, as Thou deliveredst...." + +"I'm on fire! I'm on fire!" howled Warten. "My smock! My smock!" + +And he jumped over all the chairs and rushed outside, with the others +after him. + +"Caught fire at the candle!" he cried, quite out of breath. + +They put out the flames, pulled the smock over his head and poured water +on his back, where his underclothes were smouldering. + +"My smock, my smock!" he went on moaning. "Brand-new! Cost me forty-six +stuivers!" + +And he stood with his smock in his hands, looking at the huge holes and +rents. + +They made a great noise, all together, and their sharp voices rang far +and wide into the still night. + +Virginie alone had remained by the bedside. She picked up the candle, lit +it again, put it back on the rail of the bed and then went on reading the +prayers. When she saw that Zeen lay very calmly and no longer breathed, +she sprinkled him with holy water for the last time and then went +outside: + +"People ... he's with the Lord." + +It was as if their fright had made them forget what was happening +indoors: they rushed in, eager to know ... and Zeen was dead. + +"Stone-dead," said Barbara. + +"Hopped the twig!" said Warten. + +"Quick! Hurry! The tobacco-seed will be tainted!" screamed Mite; and she +snatched down two or three linen bags which hung from the rafters and +carried them outside. + +First they moaned; then they tried to comfort one another, especially +Zalia, who had dropped into a chair and turned very pale. + +Then they set to work: Treze filled the little glasses; Barbara hung the +water over the fire; and Warten, in his shirt-sleeves, stropped his razor +to shave Zeen's beard. + +"And the children! The children who are not here!" moaned Zalia. "He +ought to have seen the children!" + +"First say the prayers," ordered Virginie. + +All knelt down and, while Warten shaved the dead man, it went: + +"Come to his assistance, all ye saints of God; meet him, all ye angels of +God: receiving his soul, offering it in the sight of the Most High.... + +"To Thee, O Lord, we commend the soul of Thy servant, that being dead to +this world, he may live to Thee; and whatever sins he has committed in +this life, through human frailty, do Thou, in Thy most merciful goodness, +forgive...." + +"Amen," they answered. + +Virginie shut her book, once more sprinkled holy water on the corpse and +went home, praying as she went. + +Zalia made the sign of the Cross and closed her husband's eyes; then she +laid a white towel on a little table by the bed and put the candle on it +and the crucifix and the holy water. + +Warten and Barbara took Zeen out of the bed and put him on a chair, +washed him all over with luke-warm water, put a clean shirt on him and +his Sunday clothes over him; then they laid him on the bed again. + +"He'll soon begin to must," said Barbara. + +"The weather's warm." + +"He's very bent: how'll they get him into the coffin?" + +"Crack his back." + +Treze looked round for a prayer-book to lay under Zeen's chin and a +crucifix and rosary for his hands. + +Mite took a red handkerchief and bound it round his head to keep his +mouth closed. Fietje was still kneeling and saying Our Fathers. + +"It's done now," said Barbara, with a deep sigh. "We'll have just one +more glass and then go to bed." + +"Oh, dear people, stay a little longer!" whined Zalia. "Don't leave me +here alone." + +"It's only," said Mite, "that it'll be light early to-morrow and we've +had no sleep yet." + +"Come, come," said Barbara, to comfort her, "you mustn't take on now. +Zeen has lived his span and has died happily in his bed." + +"Question is, shall we do as well?" said Mite. + +"And Siska and Romenie and Kordula and the boys, who are not here! They +ought to have seen their father die!... The poor children, they'll cry +so!" + +"They'll know it in good time," said Warten. + +"And where are they living now?" asked Mite. + +"In France, the two oldest ... and there's Miel, the soldier ... it's in +their letters, behind the glass." + +"Give 'em to me," said Treze. "I'll make my boy write to-morrow, before +he goes to school." + +They were going off. + +"And I, who, with this all, don't know where I'm to sleep," said Warten. +"My old roost, over the goat-house: you'll be wanting that to-night, +Zalia?" + +Zalia wavered. + +"Zalia could come with me," said Barbara. + +"And leave the house alone? And who's to go to the priest to-morrow? And +to the carpenter? And my harvest, my harvest! Yes, yes, Warten, do you +get into the goat-house and help me a bit to-morrow. I shall sleep: why +not?" + +"_Alla_[12], come, Fietje; mother's going home." + +[12] A corruption of the French _allez!_ + +They went; and Zalia came a bit of the way with them. Their wooden shoes +clattered softly in the powdery sand of the white road; when they had +gone very far, their voices still rang loud and their figures looked like +wandering pollards. + +In the east, a thin golden-red streak hung between two dark clouds. It +was very cool. + +"Fine weather to-morrow," said Warten; and he trudged off to his +goat-house. "Good-night, Zalia." + +"Good-night, Warten." + +"Sleep well." + +"Sleep well too and say another Our Father for Zeen." + +"Certainly." + +She went in and bolted the door. Inside it all smelt of candle and the +musty odour of the corpse. She put out the fire in the hearth, dipped her +fingers once more in the holy water and made a cross over Zeen. While her +lips muttered the evening prayers, she took off her kerchief, her jacket +and her cap and let fall her skirt. Then she straddled across Zeen and +lay right against the wall. She twisted her feet in her shift and crept +carefully under the bed-clothes. She shuddered. Her thoughts turned like +the wind: her daughters were in service in France and were now sleeping +quietly and knew of nothing; her eldest, who was married, and her husband +and the children came only once a year to see their father; and even +then.... And now they would find him dead. + +Her harvest ... and she was alone now, to get it in. Warten would go to +the priest early in the morning and to the carpenter: the priest ought to +have been here, 'twas a comfort after all; but Zeen had always been good +and ... now to go dying all at once like this, without the sacraments.... + +Why couldn't she sleep now? She was so tired, so worn out with that +reaping; and it was so warm here, so stifling and it smelt queer: what a +being could come to, when he was dead! + +Had she slept at all? She had been lying there so long ... and there was +that smell! She wished she had sent Warten away and gone herself to lie +in the goat-house; here, beside that corpse ... but, after all, it was +Zeen.... + +The flame of the candle flickered and everything flickered with it--the +loom, the black rafters and the crucifix--in dark shadow-stripes upon the +wall. 'Twas that kept her awake. She sat up and blew from where she was, +but the flame danced more than ever and kept on burning. Then she +carefully stepped across Zeen and nipped out the candle with her fingers. +It was dark now.... She strode back into bed, stepping on Zeen's leg; and +the corpse shook and the stomach rumbled. She held herself tucked against +the wall, twisted and turned, pinched her eyes to, but did not sleep. The +smell got into her nose and throat and it became very irksome, +unbearable. And she got out of bed again, to open the window. A fresh +breeze blew into the room; far away beyond, the sky began to brighten; +and behind the cornfield she heard the singing beat of a sickle and the +whistling of a sad, drawling street-ditty: + +"They're at work already." + +Now she lay listening to the whizzing beat and the rustle of the falling +corn and that drawling, never-changing tune.... + +The funeral would be the day after to-morrow: already she saw all the +troop passing along the road and then in the church and then ... all +alone, home again. Zeen was dead now and she remained ... and all those +children, her children, who still had so long to live, would also grow +old, in their turn, and die ... ever on ... and all that misery and +slaving and then to go ... and Zeen, her Zeen, the Zeen of yesterday, who +was still alive then and not ill. Her Zeen; and she saw him as a young +man over forty years ago: a handsome chap he was. She had lived so long +with Zeen and had known him so well, better than her own self; and that +he should now be lying there beside her ... cold ... and never again ... +that he should now be dead. + +Then she broke down and wept. + + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Path of Life, by Stijn Streuvels + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PATH OF LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 8437.txt or 8437.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/4/3/8437/ + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Thomas Berger, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Path of Life + +Author: Stijn Streuvels + +Translator: Alexander Teixeira De Mattos + + +Release Date: July, 2005 [EBook #8437] +This file was first posted on July 10, 2003 +Last Updated: November 19, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PATH OF LIFE *** + + + + +Text file produced by Eric Eldred, Thomas Berger, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE PATH OF LIFE + </h1> + <h2> + By Stijn Streuvels + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated from the West-Flemish by <br /> <br /> Alexander Teixeira De + Mattos + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> TRANSLATOR’s NOTE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> I. THE WHITE SAND-PATH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> II. IN EARLY WINTER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> III. CHRISTMAS NIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> IV. LOAFING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> V. SPRING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VI. IN THE SQUALL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VII. A PIPE OR NO PIPE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> VIII. ON SUNDAYS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> IX. AN ACCIDENT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> X. WHITE LIFE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XI. THE END </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_FOOT"> FOOTNOTES: </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TRANSLATOR’s NOTE + </h2> + <p> + In introducing this new writer to the English-speaking public, I may be + permitted to give a few particulars of himself and his life. Stijn + Streuvels is accepted not only in Belgium, but also in Holland as the most + distinguished Low-Dutch author of our time: his vogue, in fact, is even + greater in the North Netherlands than in the southern kingdom. And I will + go further and say that I know no greater living writer of imaginative + prose in any land or any language. His medium is the West-Flemish dialect, + which is spoken by perhaps a million people inhabiting the stretch of + country that forms the province of West Flanders and is comprised within + the irregular triangle outlined by the North Sea on the west, the French + frontier of Flanders on the south and a line drawn at one-third of the + distance between Bruges and Ghent on the east. In addition to Bruges and + Ostend, this province of West Flanders includes such towns as Poperinghe, + Ypres and Courtrai; and so subtly subdivided is the West-Flemish dialect + that there are words which a man of Bruges will use to a man of Poperinghe + and not be understood. + </p> + <p> + It is one of the most interesting dialects known to me, containing numbers + of mighty mediaeval words which survive in daily use; and it is one of the + richest: rich especially—and this is not usual in dialects—in + words expressive of human characteristics and of physical sensations. + </p> + <p> + Thus there is a word to describe a man who is not so much a poor wretch, + <i>un misérable</i>, as what Tom Hood loved to call “a hapless wight:” one + who is poor and wretched and outcast and out of work, not through any + fault of his own, through idleness or fecklessness, but through sheer + ill-luck. There is a word to describe what we feel when we hear the + tearing of silk or the ripping of calico, a word expressing that sense of + angry irritation which gives a man a gnawing in the muscles of the arms, a + word that tells what we really feel in our hair when we pretend that it + “stands on end.” It is a sturdy, manly dialect, moreover, spoken by a + fine, upstanding race of “chaps,” “fellows,” “mates,” “wives,” and + “women-persons,” for your Fleming rarely talks of “men” or “women.” It is + also a very beautiful dialect, having many words that possess a charm all + their own. Thus <i>monkelen</i>, the West-Flemish for the verb “to smile,” + is prettier and has an archer sound than its Dutch equivalent, <i>glimlachen</i>. + And it is a dialect of sufficient importance to boast a special dictionary + (<i>Westvlaamsch Idiotikon</i>, by the Rev. L. L. De Bo: Bruges, 1873) of + 1,488 small-quarto pages, set in double column. + </p> + <p> + In translating Streuvels’ sketches, I have given a close rendering: to use + a homely phrase, their flavour is very near the knuckle; and I have been + anxious to lose no more of it than must inevitably be lost through the + mere act of translation. I hope that I may be forgiven for one or two + phrases, which, though not existing, so far as I am aware, in any country + or district where the English tongue is spoken, are not entirely foreign + to the genius of that tongue. Here and there, but only where necessary, I + have added an explanatory foot-note. + </p> + <p> + For those interested in such matters, I may say that Stijn Streuvels’ real + name is Frank Lateur. He is a nephew of Guido Gezelle, the poet-priest, + whose statue graces the public square at Courtrai, unless indeed by this + time those shining apostles of civilization, the Germans, have destroyed + it. Until ten years ago, when he began to come into his own, he lived at + Avelghem, in the south-east corner of West Flanders, hard by Courtrai and + the River Lys, and there baked bread for the peasant-fellows and + peasant-wives. For you must know that this foremost writer of the + Netherlands was once a baker and stood daily at sunrise, bare-chested, + before his glowing oven, drawing bread for the folk of his village. The + stories and sketches in the present volume all belong to that period. + </p> + <p> + Of their number, <i>Christmas Night</i>, <i>A Pipe or no Pipe</i>, <i>On + Sundays</i> and <i>The End</i> have appeared in the <i>Fortnightly Review</i>, + which was the first to give Stijn Streuvels the hospitality of its pages; + <i>In Early Winter</i> and <i>White Life</i> in the <i>English Review</i>; + <i>The White Sand-path</i> in the <i>Illustrated London News</i>; <i>An + Accident in Everyman</i>; and <i>Loafing</i> in the <i>Lady’s Realm</i>. + The remainder are now printed in English for the first time. + </p> + <h3> + ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS. + </h3> + <p> + Chelsea, <i>April</i>, 1915. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. THE WHITE SAND-PATH + </h2> + <p> + I was a devil of a scapegrace in my time. No tree was too high for me, no + water too deep; and, when there was mischief going, I was the ring-leader + of the band. Father racked his head for days together to find a punishment + that I should remember; but it was all no good: he wore out three or four + birch-rods on my back; his hands pained him merely from hitting my hard + head; and bread and water was a welcome change to me from the everyday + monotony of potatoes and bread-and-butter. After a sound drubbing followed + by half a day’s fasting, I felt more like laughing than like crying; and, + in half a while, all was forgotten and my wickedness began afresh and + worse than ever. + </p> + <p> + One summer’s evening, I came home in fine fettle. I and ten of my + school-fellows had played truant: we had gone to pick apples in the + priest’s orchard; and we had pulled the burgomaster’s calf into the brook + to teach it to swim, but the banks were too high and the beast was + drowned. Father, who had heard of these happenings, laid hold of me in a + rage and gave me a furious trouncing with a poker, after which, instead of + turning me into the road, as his custom was, he caught me up fair and + square, carried me to the loft, flung me down on the floor and bolted the + trap-door behind him. + </p> + <p> + In the loft! Heavenly goodness, in the loft! + </p> + <p> + Of an evening I never dared think of the place; and in bright sunshine I + went there but seldom and then always in fear. + </p> + <p> + I lay as dead, pinched my eyes to and pondered on my wretched plight. + ‘Twas silent all around; I heard nothing, nothing. That lasted pretty + long, till I began to feel that the boards were so hard and that my body, + which had been thrashed black and blue, was hurting me. My back was stiff + and my arms and legs grew cold. And yet I nor wished nor meant to stir: + that was settled in my head. In the end, it became unbearable: I drew in + my right leg, shifted my arm and carefully opened my eyes. ‘Twas so + ghastly, oh, so frightfully dark and warm: I could see the warm darkness; + so funny, that steep, slanting tiled roof, crossed by black rafters, beams + and laths, and all that space beyond, which disappeared in the dark + ridgework: ‘twas like a deserted, haunted booth at a fair, during the + night. Over my head, like threatening blunderbusses, old trousers and + jackets hung swinging, with empty arms and legs: they looked just like + fellows that had been hanged! And it grew darker, steadily darker. + </p> + <p> + My eyes stood fixed and I heard my breath come and go. I pondered how + ‘twould end here. That lasting silence affrighted me; the anxious waiting + for that coming night: to have to spend a long, long night here alone! My + hair itched and pricked on my head. And the rats! I gave a great loud + scream. It rang in anguish through the sloping vault of the loft. I + listened as it died away ... and nothing followed. I screamed again and + again and went on, till my throat was torn. + </p> + <p> + The gruesome thought of those rats and of that long night drove me mad + with fear. I rolled about on the floor, I struck out with my arms and + legs, like one possessed, in violent, childish fury. Then, worn out, I let + my arms and legs rest; at last, tired, swallowed up in my helplessness, + left without will or feeling, I waited for what was to come. I had + terribly wicked thoughts: of escaping from the house, of setting fire to + the house, of <i>murder</i>! I was an outcast, I was being tortured. I + should have liked to show them what I could do, who I was; to see them + hunting for me and crying; and then to run away, always farther away, and + never come back again. + </p> + <p> + Downstairs, the plates and forks were clattering for supper. I was not + hungry; I did not wish nor mean to eat. I heard soft, quiet voices + talking: that made me desperate; they were not speaking of me! They had no + thought nor care for the miscreant; they would liefst have him dead, out + of the way. And I was in the loft! + </p> + <p> + Later, very much later, I heard my little brother’s voice saying evening + prayers—I would not pray—and then I heard nothing more, + nothing; and I lay there, upstairs, lonely and forlorn.... + </p> + <p> + I walked all alone in the forest, through the brushwood. ‘Twas half-dark + below; but, above the bushes, the sun was playing as through a green + curtain. I went on and on. The bushes here grew thick now and the tiny + path was lost. After long creeping and stumbling, I leapt across a ditch + and entered the wide drove. It did not seem strange to me that ‘twas even + darker here and that the light, instead of from above, came streaming low + down from between the trunks of the trees. The vault was closed leaf-tight + and the trunks hung down from out of it like pillars. ‘Twas silent all + around. I went, as I thought that I must see the sun, round behind the + trunks, half anxious at last to get out of that magic forest; but new + trees kept coming up, as though out of the ground, and hid the sun. I + would have liked to run, but felt I know not what in my legs that made me + drag myself on. + </p> + <p> + Far beyond, on the road-side grass, sat two boys. It was ... but no, they + were sitting there too glumly! I went up to them and, after all, knew them + for Sarelke and Lowietje, the village-constable’s children. They sat with + their legs in the ditch, their elbows on their knees, earnestly chatting. + I sat down beside them, but they did not even look up, did not notice me. + Those two boys, my schoolmates, the worst two scamps in the village, sat + there like two worn-out old fogies: they did not know me. This ought to + have surprised me, and yet I thought that it must be right and that it had + always been so. They chatted most calmly of the price of marbles, of the + way to tell the best hoops, of buying a new box of tin soldiers; and they + mumbled their words as slowly as the priest in his pulpit. I became + uncomfortable, felt ill at ease in that stifling air, under that half-dusk + of the twilight, where everything was happening so earnestly, so very + slowly and so heavily. I, who was all for sport and child’s-play, now + found my own chums so altered; and they no longer knew me. I would have + liked to shout, to grip them hard by the shoulder and call out that it was + I: I, I, I! But I durst not, or could not. + </p> + <p> + “There—comes—the—keeper,” droned Sarelke. + </p> + <p> + Lowietje looked down the drove with his great glassy eyes. The two boys + stood up and, without speaking, shuffled away. I saw them get smaller and + smaller, till they became two black, hovering little specks that vanished + round the bend. + </p> + <p> + I was alone again! Alone, with all those trees, in that frightful silence + all around me. And the keeper, where was he? He would come, I knew it; and + I felt afraid of the awful fellow. I must get away from this, I must hide + myself. I lay down, very slowly, deep in the ditch. I now felt that I had + been long, long dead and that I was lying here alone, waiting for I forget + what. That keeper: was there such a person? He now seemed to me an awesome + clod of earth, which came rolling down, slowly but steadily, and which + would fall heavily upon me. Then he turned into a lovely white ashplant, + which stood there waving its boughs in a stately manner. I would let him + go past and then would go away. People were waiting for me, I had to be + somewhere: I tried mightily to remember where, but could not. + </p> + <p> + The keeper did not come. + </p> + <p> + The ditch was cold, the bottom was of smooth, worn stone and very hard. I + lay there with gleaming eyes: above my head stood the giant oaks, + silently, and their knotted branches ran up and were lost in the dark sky. + </p> + <p> + The keeper came, I heard his coming; and the wind blew fearfully through + the trees. I shivered.... + </p> + <p> + I woke with fright and I was still lying in my loft. The hard bottom of + the ditch was the boarded floor and the tree-trunks were the legs of + father’s trousers and the branches ran up and were lost in the darksome + roofwork. Two sharp rays of light beamed through the shut dormer-window. + It must be day then! And this awful night was past! All my dismay was gone + and a bold feeling came over me, something like the feeling of gladness + that follows on a solved problem. I would make Lowietje and Sarelke and + all the boys at school hark to my tale, that I would! I had slept a whole + night alone in the loft! And the rats! And the ghosts! Ooh! And not a whit + afraid! + </p> + <p> + I got up, but that was such a slow business. I still felt that dream and + that slackness in my limbs. I was so stiff; that heavy gloom, that slow + passing of time still lingered—just as in my dream—in my slow + breathing. I still saw that forest and, shut up as I was, with not a + single touchstone for my thoughts, I began to doubt if my dream was done + and I had to feel the trouser-legs to make sure that they were not really + trees. + </p> + <p> + Time stood still and there was no getting out of my mind the strange + things seen in that dream-forest, with those earnest, sluggish, elderly + children and that queer keeper. ‘Twas as though some one were holding my + arms and legs tight to make them move heavily, deadly heavily; and I felt + myself, within my head, grown quite thirty years older, become suddenly an + old man. I walked about the loft; I wanted to make myself heard, but my + footsteps gave no sound. + </p> + <p> + I grew awfully hungry. Near the ladder-door, I found my prison fare. I + nibbled greedily at my crust of bread and took a good drink of water. + </p> + <p> + I now felt better, but this doing nothing wearied me; I became sad and + felt sorry to be sitting alone. If things had gone their usual gait, I + should now be with my mates at school or playing somewhere under the open + sky; and that open sky now first revealed all its delightfulness. The + usual gait, when all was said, was by far the best.... All alone like + this, up here.... Should I go down and beg father’s pardon? Then ‘twould + all be over and done with.... + </p> + <p> + “No!” said something inside me, “I stay here!” + </p> + <p> + And I stayed. + </p> + <p> + I shoved a box under the dormer-window, I pushed open the wooden shutter + ... and there! Before me lay the wide stretch in the blazing sunlight! My + eyes were quite blind with it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Twas good up here and funny to see everything from so high up, so + endlessly far! And the people were no bigger than tiny tadpoles! + </p> + <p> + Just under my dormer-window came a path, a white sand-path winding from + behind the house and then running forwards to the horizon in a line + straight as an arrow. It looked like a naked strip of ground, powdered + white and showing up sharply, like a flat snake, in the middle of the + green fields which, broken into their many-coloured squares, lay blinking + in the sun. + </p> + <p> + This path was deserted, lonely, as though nor man nor beast had ever + trodden it. It lay very near the house and I did not know it from up here; + it looked now like a long strip of drab linen, which lay bleaching in a + boundless meadow. And that again suited my loneliness so well! At last, I + looked and saw nothing more. And that path!... + </p> + <p> + Slowly, overcome by that silent, restful idleness, I fell a-dreaming; and + that path, that long, white path seemed to me to have become a part of my + own being, something like a life that began over there, far away yonder in + the clear blue, to end in the unknown, here, behind the gable-end, cut off + at that fatal bend. + </p> + <p> + After long looking, I saw something, very far off; it came so slowly, so + softly, like a thing that grows, and those two little black patches grew + into two romping schoolboys, who, rolling and leaping along, came running + down the white sand-path and, at last, disappeared in the bend behind the + gable-end. + </p> + <p> + Then, for another long while, nothing more, nothing but sand, green and + sunshine. + </p> + <p> + Later, ‘twas three labourers, who came stepping up briskly, with their + gear over their shoulders. Half-way up the path, they jumped across the + ditch and went to work in the field. They toiled on, without looking up or + round, toiled on till I got tired of watching and tired of those three + stooping men and of seeing that gleaming steel flicker in the sun and go + in and out of the earth. + </p> + <p> + When now ‘twas mid-day and fiercely hot in my loft, my three labourers sat + down behind a tree and ate their noonday meal. + </p> + <p> + I went to the loft-door and devoured my second crust of bread and took a + fresh gulp of water. + </p> + <p> + Very calmly, without thinking, lame with the heat and with that old-man’s + feeling still inside me, I went and sat at the window. + </p> + <p> + The three men worked on, always, without stopping. + </p> + <p> + And that went on, went on, until the evening! When ‘twas nearly dark, they + gathered up their tools, jumped over the ditch, walked down the path the + way they had come and disappeared behind the gable-end. + </p> + <p> + Now it became deadly. + </p> + <p> + In the distance appeared a great black patch, which came slowly nearer and + nearer. The patch turned into a lazy, slow-stepping ox, with a jolting, + creaking waggon, in which sat a little old man who gazed stupidly in front + of him into the dark distance. The cart dragged along wearily, creeping + through the sand, and first the ox, then the little fellow, then the + waggon disappeared behind the gable-end. + </p> + <p> + Now I felt something like fear and I shivered: the evening was coming so + slowly, so sadly; and I dared not think of the night that was to follow. + ‘Twas the first time in my life that I fell earnestly a-thinking. So that + path there became a life, a long-drawn-out, earnest life.... That was + quite plain in my head; and those boys had rolled and tumbled along that + path; next, those big men had burdensomely, most burdensomely turned over + their bit of earth; and the ox and the little old fellow had joggled along + it so piteously.... That life was so earnest and I had seen it all from so + far, from the outside of it: I did nothing, I took no part in it and yet I + lived ... and must also one day go along that path! + </p> + <p> + And how? + </p> + <p> + Getting up in the morning, eating, playing, going to school, misbehaving, + playing, eating, sleeping.... + </p> + <p> + The mist rose out of the fields and I saw nothing more. + </p> + <p> + I jumped off my box, begged father’s pardon and crept into bed. + </p> + <p> + Never again was I shut up in the loft. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. IN EARLY WINTER + </h2> + <p> + First the leaves had become pale, deathly pale; later they turned + yellow-brown; and then they went fluttering and flickering, so wearily, so + slackly, like the wings of dying birds; and, one after the other, they + began to fall, dancing gently downwards, in eddies. They whirled in the + air, were carried on by the wind and at last fell dead and settled + somewhere in the mud. + </p> + <p> + Not a living thing was to be seen and the cottages that sat huddled close + to the ground remained fast shut; the smoke from the chimneys alone still + gave a sign of life. + </p> + <p> + The green drove now stood bare and bleak: two rows of straight trunks + which grew less and faded away in the blue mist. + </p> + <p> + Yonder comes something creeping up: a shapeless thing, like two little + black stripes, with something else; and it approaches.... + </p> + <p> + At last and at length, out of those little stripes, appear a man and a + wife; and, out of the other thing, a barrel-organ on a cart, with a dog + between the wheels. + </p> + <p> + It all looked the worse for wear. The little fellow went bent between the + shafts and tugged; the little old woman’s lean arms pushed against the + organ-case; and the wheeled thing jolted on like that over the cart-ruts, + along the drove and through the wide gate of an honest homestead. + </p> + <p> + A flight of black crows sailed across the sky. The wind soughed through + the naked tree-tops; the mist rose and the world thinned away in a bluey + haze; this all vanished and slowly it became dark black night. + </p> + <p> + Man, woman and dog, they crept, all three, high into the loft and deep + into the hay; and they dozed away, like all else outside them and around. + Warm they lay there! And dream they did, of the cold, of the dark and of + the sad moaning wind! + </p> + <p> + At early morning, before it was bright day, they were on the tramp, over + the fallow fields, and drowned in a huge sea of thick blue mist. They + pulled for all they could: the little fellow in the shafts, the little old + woman behind the cart and the dog, with his head to the ground, for the + road’s sake. + </p> + <p> + A red glow broke in the east and a new day brightened. ‘Twas all white, + snow-white, as if the blue mist had bleached, melted and stuck fast on the + black fields, on the half-withered autumn fruits and on the dark fretwork + of the trees. Great drops dripped from the boughs. + </p> + <p> + From under the peak of his cap, the fellow peered into the distance with + his one eye, and he saw a church and houses. They went that way. + </p> + <p> + ‘Twas low-roofed cottages they saw, all covered with hoar-frost; here and + there stood one alone and then a whole little row, crowded close together: + a street. + </p> + <p> + They were in the village. + </p> + <p> + It was lone and still, like a cloister, with here a little woman who, + tucked into her hooded cloak, crept along the houses to the church; there + a smith who hammered ... and the little church-bell, which tinkled over + the house-tops. + </p> + <p> + They stopped. The dog sat down to look. The little fellow threw off his + shoulder-strap, pulled his cap down lower and felt under the red-brown + organ-cloth for the handle. He gave a look at the houses that stood before + him, pinched his sunken mouth, wiped the seam of his sleeve over his face + and started grinding. Half-numbed sounds came trickling into the chill + street from under the organ-cloth: a sad—once, perhaps, + dance-provoking—tune, which now, false, dragging and twisted out of + shape, was like a muddled crawling of sounds all jumbled up together; some + came too soon, the others too late, as in a weariful dream; and, in + between, a sighing and creaking which came from very deep down, at each + third or fourth turn, and was deadened again at once in those + ever-recurring rough organ-sounds or dragged on and deafened in a mad + dance. ‘Twas like a poor little huddled soul uttering its plaint amid the + hullabaloo of rude men shouting aloud in the street. + </p> + <p> + The dog also had begun to howl when the tune started. + </p> + <p> + The little wife had settled her kerchief above her sharp-featured + old-wife’s face; and, with one hand in her apron-pocket and the other + holding a little tin can, she now went from door to door: + </p> + <p> + “For the poor blind man.... God reward you.” + </p> + <p> + And this through the whole street and farther, to the farmhouses, from the + one to the other, all day long, till evening fell again and that same + thick mist came to wrap everything in its grey, dark breath. + </p> + <p> + And again they wandered, through a drove, to a homestead and into the hay. + </p> + <p> + “The dog has pupped,” said the little old woman; and she shook her man. + </p> + <p> + “Pupped?...” + </p> + <p> + And he turned in the nest which he had made for himself, pushed his head + deeper in the hay and drowsed on. He dreamt of dogs and of pups and of + organs and of ear-splitting yelps and howls. + </p> + <p> + The dog lay in a fine, round little nest of his own, rolled into a ball + and moaning. And he<a href="#linknote-1" name="linknoteref-1" + id="linknoteref-1"><small>1</small></a> looked so sadly and kindly into + the little old woman’s eyes; and he licked, never stopped licking his + puppies. They were like three red-brown moles, each with a fat head; they + wriggled their thick little bodies together and sought about and squeaked. + </p> + <p> + The West-Fleming talks of dogs of either sex invariably as “he.” + </p> + <p> + When the tramps had swallowed their slice of rye-bread and their dish of + porridge, they went on, elsewhither. The little fellow tugged, the little + old woman pushed and the dogs hung swinging between the wheels, in a + fig-basket. So they went begging, from hamlet to hamlet, the wide world + through: an old man and woman, with their organ; and a dog with his three + young pups. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Much later.... + </p> + <p> + The thick mist had changed into bright, glittering dewdrops and the sun + shone high in the heaven. Now four dogs lay harnessed to the cart, four + red-brown dogs. And, when the handle turned and the organ played, all + those four dogs lifted their noses on high and howled uglily. + </p> + <p> + Inside, deep-hidden under the organ-cloth, sat the little soul, the + mysterious, shabby little organ-soul, grown quite hoarse now and almost + dumb. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. CHRISTMAS NIGHT + </h2> + <p> + Over there, high up among the pines, stood the house where he lived alone + with the trees and the birds; and there, every morning, he saw the sun + rise and, in the evening, sink away again. And for how many years! + </p> + <p> + In summer, the white clouds floated high over his head; the blackbirds + sang in the wood around his door; and before him, in a blue vista, lay the + whole world. + </p> + <p> + When his harvest was gathered and the days drew in, when the sky closed + up, when the dry pines shook and rocked in the sad wind and the crows + dropped like black flakes and came cawing over the fields, he closed his + windows and sat down in the dark to brood. + </p> + <p> + He must go down yonder now, to the village below. + </p> + <p> + He fetched his Christmas star from the loft, restuck the gold flowers and + paper strips and fastened them in the cleft of the long wand. Then he put + on his greatcoat, drew the hood over his head and went. + </p> + <p> + From behind the black clouds came a light, a dull copper glow, without + rays, high up where the stars were; it set golden edges to the hem of the + clouds; the heaven remained black. There appeared a little streak of + glowing copper, which grew and grew, became a sickle, a half-disk and at + last a great, round, giant gold moon, which rose and rose. It went up like + a huge round orange behind the heaven and, more and more swiftly, shot up + into the sky, growing smaller and smaller, till it became just a common + moon, the laughing moon among the stars. + </p> + <p> + He alone had seen it. + </p> + <p> + Now he took his star on his shoulder, pulled his hood deep over his head + and wandered down the little path, all over the snow, to where the lights + were burning. It was lonely, lifeless, that white plain under that + burnished sky; and he was all alone, the black fellow on the snow. And he + saw the world so big, so monotonously bleak; a flat, white wilderness, + with here and there a straight, thin poplar and a row of black, lean, + knotty willows. + </p> + <p> + He went down towards the lights. + </p> + <p> + The village lay still. The street was black with people. Great crowds of + womenfolk, tucked and muffled in black hooded cloaks, tramped as in a + dream along the houses, over the squeaking snow. They shuffled from door + to door, stuck out their bony hands and asked plaintively for their + God’s-penny. They disappeared at the end of the street and went trudging + into the endless moonlight. + </p> + <p> + Children went with lights and stars and stood gathered in groups, their + black faces glowing in the shine of their lanterns; they made a huge din + with their tooting-horns<a href="#linknote-2" name="linknoteref-2" + id="linknoteref-2"><small>2</small></a> and rumble-pot<a href="#linknote-3" + name="linknoteref-3" id="linknoteref-3"><small>3</small></a> and sang of + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Babe born in the straw +</pre> + <p> + and + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The shepherds they come here. + They’re bringing wood and fire + And this and that and t’other: + Now bring us a pot of beer. +</pre> + <p> + Mad Wanne went alone; she kept on lurching across the street with her long + legs, which stuck out far from under her skirt, and held her arms wide + open under her hooded cloak, like a demon bat. She snuffled something + about: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Twas hailing, ‘twas snowing and ‘twas bad weather + And over the roofs the wind it flew. + Saint Joseph said to Mary Maid: + “Mary, what shall we do?” + </pre> + <p> + Top<a href="#linknote-4" name="linknoteref-4" id="linknoteref-4"><small>4</small></a> + Dras, Wulf and Grendel, three fellows, tall as trees, were also loafing + round. They were the three Kings: Top had turned his big jacket and + blackened his face; Grendel wore a white sheet over his back and blew the + horn; and Wulf had a mitre on and carried a great star with a lantern on a + stick. So they dragged along the street, singing at every door: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Three Kings with a star + Came travelling from afar, + Over mountains, hills and dale, + To go and look + In every nook, + To go and look for the Lord of All. +</pre> + <p> + Their rough voices droned and three great shadows walked far ahead of them + on the white street-snow. All those people came and went and twisted and + turned and came and went again. Each sang his own little song and fretted + his whining prayer. Above all this rose the dull toot of the baker’s horn, + as he kept on shouting: + </p> + <p> + “Hot bread! Hot bread!” + </p> + <p> + High hung the moon and blinked the stars; and fine white shafts fell + through the air, upon everything around, like silver pollen. + </p> + <p> + “Maarten of the mountain!” whispered the children behind the window. + “Maarten the Freezyman!”<a href="#linknote-5" name="linknoteref-5" + id="linknoteref-5"><small>5</small></a> + </p> + <p> + And they crept back into the kitchen, beside the fire. + </p> + <p> + And the black man stood outside the door, tugging at the string of his + twirling star, and sang through his nose: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Come, star, come, star, you must not so still stand! + You must go with me to Bethlehem Land, + To Bethlehem, that comely city, + Where Mary sits with her Babe on her knee.... +</pre> + <p> + Along the country-roads, the farmhouses stood snowed in, with black + window-shutters, which showed dark against the walls and shut in the + light, and stumpy chimneys, with thick smoke curling from them. Indoors, + there was no seeing clearly: the lamp hung from the ceiling in a ring of + steam and smoke and everything lay black and tumbled. In the hearth, the + yule-log lay blazing. The farmer’s wife baked waffles and threw them in + batches on the straw-covered floor. + </p> + <p> + In one corner, under the light and wound from head to foot in + tobacco-smoke, were the farm-hands, playing cards. They sat wrapped up in + their game, bending over their little table, very quiet. Now and then came + a half-oath and the thud of a fist on the table and then again peaceful + shuffling and stacking and playing of their cards. + </p> + <p> + The Freezyman sat in the midst of the children, who listened open-mouthed + to his tale of <i>The Mighty Hunter</i>. + </p> + <p> + His star stood in the corner. + </p> + <p> + Later, the big table was drawn out and supper served. All gathered round + and sat down and ate. First came potatoes and pork, red kale and pigs’ + chaps, then stewed apples and sausages ... and waffles, waffles, waffles. + They drank beer out of little glass mugs. The table was cleared, coffee + poured out, spirits fetched from the cupboard and gin burnt with sugar. + Then the chairs were pushed close, right round the hearth, and Maarten + stood up, took his star, smoothed his long beard and, keeping time by + tugging the string of his star, droned out: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + On Christmas night + Is Jesus born + To fight our fight + Against the night + Of Satan and his devil-spawn. + And a manger is His cot + And all humble is His lot; + <i>So, mortal, make you humble, too, + To serve Him Who thus served you</i>. + + Three wise men and each a king + Come to make Him offering; + Gold, frankincense and myrrh they bring. + Angels sweet + Kiss His feet, + As they sing: + “Hail, Lord and King!” + Telling all mankind the story + Of His wonder and His glory; + <i>So, mortal, make you humble, too, + To serve Him Who thus served you</i>. +</pre> + <p> + All else was still. The men sat drinking their hot gin, the children + listened with their heads on one side and the farmer’s wife, with her + hands folded over her great lap, sat crying. + </p> + <p> + The door opened and the Kings stood in the middle of the floor. They were + white with snow and their faces blue with cold; the ice hung from + Grendel’s moustache. They looked hard under their hats at the table, the + hearth and the little glasses and at Maarten, who was still standing up. + Wulf made his star turn, Top banged his rumble-pot to time and they sang: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Three Kings came out of the East; + ‘Twas to comfort Mary.... +</pre> + <p> + When the song was ended, each got two little glasses; then they could go. + </p> + <p> + Grendel cursed aloud. + </p> + <p> + “That damned hill-devil swallows it all up,” muttered Wulf. + </p> + <p> + And they went off through the snow. + </p> + <p> + The others sang and played and played cards for ever so long and ‘twas + late when Maarten took his star and, with a “Good-night till next year,” + pulled the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + It was still light outside, but the sky hung full of snow; above, a grey + fleece and, lower, a swirl of great white flakes, which fell down slowly + swarming one on top of the other. + </p> + <p> + He plunged deep into it.... It was still so far to go; and his house and + his pines, he had left them all so far behind. + </p> + <p> + He was so old, so lone; it was so cold; and all the roads were white ... + all sky and snow. In the hollow lay the village: a little group of + sleeping houses round the white church-steeple; and behind it lay his + mountain, but it was like a cloud, a shapeless monster, very far away. + </p> + <p> + Above his head, stars, stars in long rows. He stood still and looked up + and found one which he saw every evening, a pale, dead star, like an old + acquaintance, which would lead him—for the last time, perhaps—back + to his mountain, back home. + </p> + <p> + And he trudged on. + </p> + <p> + There was a light in the three narrow pointed windows of the chapel and + the bell tinkled within. He went to rest a bit against the wall. What a + noise and what a bustle all the evening ... and the gin! And those rough + chaps had looked at him so brutally. In there, it was still; those windows + gleamed so brightly; and, after the sound of the bell, there came so + softly a woman’s voice: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Venite adoremus</i>....” + </p> + <p> + Then all was silence, the lights went out. And he fared on. + </p> + <p> + The village lay behind him and the road began to climb. There, on the + right, stood “The Jolly Hangman.” Now he knows his way and ‘tis no longer + far from home. From out of the ditch comes something creeping, a black + shape that runs across the plain, chattering like a magpie: Mad Wanne, + with her thin legs and her cloak wide open. She ran as fast as she could + run and vanished behind the inn. + </p> + <p> + He had started; he became so frightened, so uneasy, that he hastened his + steps and longed to be at home. + </p> + <p> + There was still a light in “The Jolly Hangman” and a noise of drunken men. + He passed, but then turned back again ... to sing his last song, according + to old custom. They opened the door and asked him in. He saw Grendel + sitting there and tried to get away. Then the three of them rushed out and + called after him. When they saw that he went on, they broke into a run: + </p> + <p> + “Stop, you brute!... Here, you with your star!... Oh, you damned singer of + songs!” they howled and ran and caught him and threw him down. + </p> + <p> + Grendel dug his knee into his chest and held his arms stretched wide + against the ground. Wulf and Dras gripped whole handfuls of snow and + crammed it into his mouth and went on until all his face was thickly + covered and he lay powerless. Then they planted his star beside him in the + snow and began to turn and sing to the echo: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>A, a, a</i>—glory be to Him on high to-day! + <i>E, e, e</i>—upon earth peace there shall be! + <i>I, i, i</i>—come and see with your own eye! + <i>O, o, o</i>—His little bed of straw below! +</pre> + <p> + Like a flash, Mad Wanne shot past, yelling and shrieking. Wulf flung his + stick against her legs. She waved her arms under her cloak and vanished in + the dark. + </p> + <p> + The three men sat down by the ditch and laughed full-throated. Then they + started for the village. Long it rang: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Three Kings came out of the East; + ‘Twas to comfort Mary ... +</pre> + <p> + Great white flakes fell from the starry sky, wriggled and swarmed, one on + top of the other. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. LOAFING + </h2> + <p> + He went, ever on the move, with the slow, shuffling step of wandering + beggars who are nowhere at home. + </p> + <p> + They had discharged him, some time ago, and now he was walking alone like + a wild man. For whole days he had dragged himself through the moorland, + from farm to farm, looking for his bread like the dogs. Now he came to a + wide lane of lime-trees and before him lay the town, asleep. He went into + it. The streets lay dead, the doors were shut, the windows closed: all the + people were resting; and he loafed. It was dreary, to walk alone like + that, all over the country-side, and with such a body: a giant with huge + legs and arms, which were doomed to do nothing, and that belly, that + craving belly, which he carried about with him wherever he went. + </p> + <p> + And nobody wanted him: ‘twas as though they were afraid of his strong + limbs and his stubborn head—because his glowing eyes could not + entreat meekly enough—and his blackguardly togs.... + </p> + <p> + Morning came; the working-folk were early astir. Lean men and pale women, + carrying their kettles and food-satchels in their hands, beat the slippery + pavements with their wooden shoes. Doors and windows flew open; life + began; every one walked with a busy air, knew where he was going; and they + vanished here and there, through a big gate or behind a narrow door that + shut with a bang. Carts with green stuff, waggons with sand and coal drove + this way and that. Fellows with milk and bread went round; and it grew to + a din of calls and cries, each shouting his loudest. + </p> + <p> + And he loafed. Nobody looked at him, noticed him or wanted him. In the + middle of the forenoon, a young lady had stared at him for a long time and + said to her mother: + </p> + <p> + “What a huge fellow!” + </p> + <p> + He had heard her and it did him good. He looked round, but mother and + daughter were gone, behind a corner, and stood gazing into a shop full of + bows and ribbons. + </p> + <p> + It began to whirl terribly in his belly; and his stomach hurt him so; and + his legs were tired. + </p> + <p> + The streets and houses and all those strange people annoyed him. He wanted + to get away, far away, and to see men like himself: workers without work, + who were hungry! + </p> + <p> + He looked for the narrow alleys and the poor quarter. + </p> + <p> + Out of a side-street a draycart came jogging along. Half a score of + labourers lay tugging in the shoulder-strap or leant with all the force of + their bodies against the cart, which rolled on toilsomely. ‘Twas a load of + flax, packed tightly in great square bales standing one against the other, + the whole cart full. The dray caught its right wheel in the grating of an + open gutter and remained stock-still, leaning aslant, as though planted + there. The workmen racked and wrung to get the wheel out, but it was no + good. Then they stood there, staring at one another, at their wits’ end + and throwing glances into the eyes of that big fellow who had come to look + on. Without saying or speaking, he caught a spoke in either hand, pressed + with his mighty shoulder against the inside of the wheel, bent and wrung + and in a turn brought the cart on the level. Then he went behind among the + other workmen to go and help them shove. They looked at him queerly, as if + to say that they no longer needed his help and had rather done without + him. The cart rolled on, another street or two, and then through the open + gate of the warehouse. The labourers looked into one another’s eyes + uneasily, moved about, pulled the bales off the cart and dragged them a + little farther along the wall. Then they tailed off, one by one, through a + small inner door; and he stood there alone, like a fool. A bit later, he + heard them laugh and whisper under their breaths. When he was tired of + waiting, he went up the street again. + </p> + <p> + Nobody, nobody, nobody wanted him! + </p> + <p> + He ground his teeth and clenched his fists. In the street through which he + had to go, on the spaces outside the hotels sat ladies and gentlemen + toying with strange foods and sipping their wine out of long goblets. They + chattered gaily and tasted and pecked with dainty lips and turned-up + noses. The waiters ran here, there, like slaves. Those coaxing smells + stung like adders and roused evil thoughts in his brain. His stomach + fretted awfully and his empty head turned. + </p> + <p> + He hurried away. + </p> + <p> + In a street with windowless house-fronts, a street without people in it, + he felt better. He let his body lean against the iron post of a gas-lamp, + stuck his hands in his trouser-pockets and stood there looking at the + paving-stones. Now he was damned if he would take another step, he would + rather croak here like a beast; then they would have to take him up and + know that he existed. + </p> + <p> + The boys coming from school mocked him; they danced in a ring, with him, + the big fellow, in the middle. They hung paper flags on his back and sang: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hat, hat, + Ugly old hat! + It serves as a slop-pail and as a hat! +</pre> + <p> + He did not stir. + </p> + <p> + Yon came a milk-maid driving up in a cart drawn by dogs. He got a gnawing + in his arms, a spout of blood shot to his head and he suddenly felt as if + something was going to happen. Just as she drove past, he put his great + hand on the edge of the little cart, with one pull took a copper can from + its straw, put it to his mouth and drank; then he sent the can clattering + through the window of the first-best house, till the panes rattled again. + Looking round—as if bewildered and set going, roused by what he had + done—he caught sight of the frightened little dairy-maid. A mocking + grin played on his cruel face; he flung his rough arm round her little + body and lifted the girl out of the cart right up to his face in a fierce + hug. + </p> + <p> + The boys had fled shrieking. He felt two pairs of hands pulling at his + sleeves from below. He loosed the girl and saw two policemen who held him + fast and ordered him to go with them. They held him by the arm on either + side and stepped hurriedly to keep pace with his great strides. They + looked in dismay at that huge fellow, with his wicked eyes, and then at + each other, as if to ask what they should do. + </p> + <p> + They came to a narrow little street, with nobody in it, and stopped at a + public-house: + </p> + <p> + “Could you do with a dram, mate?” they asked him. + </p> + <p> + He looked bewildered, astounded. They all three went inside; and each of + them drank a big glass of gin. + </p> + <p> + The policemen whispered something together; the elder wiped the drink from + his moustache and then said, very severely: + </p> + <p> + “And now, clear out; hurry up! And mind your manners, will you, next + time!” + </p> + <p> + He was outside once more, loafing on, along the houses. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. SPRING + </h2> + <p> + Mother stood like a clucking hen among her red-cheeked youngsters. She was + holding a loaf against her fat stomach and, with a curved pruning-knife, + was cutting off good thick slices which the youngsters snatched away one + by one and stuffed into their pockets. Horieneke fetched her basket of + knitting and her school-books. She first pulled Fonske’s stocking up once + more, buttoned Sarelke’s breeches and wiped Lowietje’s nose; and, with an + admonishing “Straight to school, do you hear, boys?” from mother, the + whole band rushed out of the door, through the little flower-garden and up + the broad unmetalled road, straight towards the great golden sun which was + rising yonder, far behind the pollard alders, in a mighty fire of rays. It + was cool outside; the sky was bright blue streaked with glowing shafts + aslant the hazy-white clouds deep, deep in the heavens. Over the level + fields, ever so far, lay a stain of pale green and brown; and the slender + stalks of the wheat stood like needles, quivering in their glittering + moisture. The trees were still nearly bare; and their trunks and tops + stood tall and black against the clear sky; but, when you saw them + together, in rows or little clusters, there was a soft yellow-green colour + over them, spotted with gleaming buds ready to burst. A soft wind, just + warm enough to thaw the frost, worked its way into and through everything + and made it all shake and swarm till it was twisted full of restless, + growing life. That wind curled through the youngsters’ tangled hair and + coloured their round cheeks cherry-red. They ran and romped through the + dry sand, stamping till it flew above their heads. They were mad with + enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + Trientje stood in the doorway, in her little shirt, with her stomach + sticking out, watching her brothers as they disappeared; and, when she saw + them no longer, she thrust her fists into her sockets, opened her mouth + wide and started a-crying, until mother’s hands lifted her up by the arms + and mother’s thick lips gave her a hearty kiss. + </p> + <p> + Horieneke came walking step by step under the lime-trees, along the narrow + grass-path beside the sand, keeping her eyes fixed on the play of her + knitting-needles. When she reached the bridge that crossed the brook, she + looked round after her brothers. They had run down the slope and were now + trotting wildly one after the other through the rich brown grass, pulling + up all the white and yellow flowers, one by one, till their arms were + crammed with them. Horieneke took out her catechism, laid it open on the + low rail and sat there cheerfully waiting. Sarelke had crept through the + water-flags until he was close to the brook and, through the clear, + gleaming blue water, watched a little fish frisking about. In a moment, + his wooden shoes and his stockings were off and one leg was in the water, + trying it: it was cold; and he felt a shiver right down his back. Ripples + played on the smooth blue and widened out to the bank. The little fish was + gone, but so was the cold; and he saw more fish, farther away: quick now, + the other leg in the water! He pulled his breeches up high and there he + stood, with the water well above his knees, peering out for fish. The + water was clear as glass; and he saw swarms of them playing, darting + swiftly up and down, to and fro like arrows: they shot past in shoals that + held together like long snakes, in among the moss and the reeds and + between the stones, winding through slits and crannies. He shouted aloud + for joy. Bertje and Wartje and the others all had their stockings off and + stood in the water bending down to look, making funnels of their hands in + the water, where it rustled in little streams between two grass-sods + through which the fish had to pass. Whenever they felt one wriggling in + their hands they yelled and screamed and sprang out of the brook to put it + into their wooden shoes, which stood on the bank, scooped full of water. + There they loitered examining those beasties from close by: those fish + were theirs now; and they would let them swim about in the big tub at home + and give them a bit of their bread and butter every day, so that they + might grow into great big pike. And now back to the runnel for more. + </p> + <p> + “Boys, I’ll tell mother!” cried Horieneke. + </p> + <p> + But they did not hear and just kept on as before. Fonske had not been able + to catch one yet and his fat legs were turning blue with the cold. In + front of him stood Bertje, stooping and peering into the water, with his + hands ready to grasp; and Fonske saw such a lovely little runnel from his + neck to halfway down his back, all bare skin. He carefully scooped his + hands full of water and let it trickle gently inside Bertje’s shirt. The + boy growled; and Fonske, screaming with laughter, skipped out of the + brook. Now came a romping and stamping in the water, a dashing and + splashing with their hands till it turned to a rain of gleaming drops that + fell on their heads and wetted their clothes through and through. And a + bawling! And a plashing with their bare legs till the spray spouted high + over the bank. + </p> + <p> + “The constable!” cried Horieneke. + </p> + <p> + The sport was over. Like lightning they all sprang out of the brook, + caught up their wooden shoes with the little fish in them and ran as hard + as they could through the grass to the bridge. There only did they venture + to look round. Hurriedly they turned down their breeches, dried their + shiny cheeks and dripping hair with one another’s handkerchiefs and then + marched all together through the sun and wind to school. + </p> + <p> + In the village square they wandered about among the other boys, silently + showed their catch, hid their shoes in the hawthorn-hedge behind the + churchyard and stayed playing until schoolmaster’s bell rang. + </p> + <p> + Boys and girls, each on their own side, disappeared through the gate; and + the street was now silent as the grave. After a while, there came through + the open window of the school first a sort of buzzing and humming and then + a repetition in chorus, a rhythmical spelling aloud: b-u-t, but; t-e-r, + ter: butter; B-a, Ba; b-e-l, bel: Babel; ever on and more and more + noisily. In between it all, the sparrows chattered and chirped and + fluttered safely in the powdery sand of the playground. + </p> + <p> + The sun was now high in the sky and the light glittered on the young + leaves, full of the glad life of youth and gleaming with gold. + </p> + <p> + Horieneke, with a few more children, was in another school. They sat, the + boys on one side and the girls on the other, on long benches and were + wrapped up in studying their communion-book and listening to an old nun, + who explained it to them in drawling, snuffling tones. After that, they + had to say their lesson, one by one; and this all went so quietly, so + modestly, so easily, ‘twas as if they had the open book before them. + Half-way through the morning, they went two and two through the village to + the church, where the priest was waiting to hear their catechism. This + also went quietly; and the questions and answers sounded hollow in that + empty church. + </p> + <p> + Horieneke sat at the head of the girls; she had caught up almost half of + them because she always knew her lessons so well and listened so + attentively. She was allowed to lead the prayers and was the first + examined; then she sat looking at the priest and listening to what came + from his lips. He always gave her a kind smile and held her up to the + others as an example of good conduct. After the catechism, they had leave + to go and play in the convent-garden. In the afternoon, there were new + lessons to be learnt and new explanations; and then quietly home. + </p> + <p> + So they lived quite secluded, alone, in their own little world of modesty + and piety, preparing for the great day. The other youngsters, who went + their several ways, felt a certain awe for these school-fellows who once + used to romp and fight with them and who were now so good, so earnest, so + neat in their clothes and so polite. The “first-communicants:” the word + had something sacred about it which they respected; and the little ones + counted on their fingers how many years they would have to wait before + they too were learning their catechism and having leave to play in the + convent-garden. + </p> + <p> + To her brothers Horieneke had now become a sacred thing, like a guardian + angel who watched over them everywhere; and they dared do no mischief when + she was by. She no longer played with them after school; she was now their + “big sister,” to whom they softly whispered the favours which they wished + to get out of mother. + </p> + <p> + When Trientje saw her sister coming home in the distance, she put out her + little arms and then would not let her go. For mother, Horieneke had to + wash the dishes, darn the stockings and, when the baby cried, sit for + hours rocking it in the cradle or dandling it on her lap, like a little + young mother. + </p> + <p> + Holding Trientje by the hand and carrying the other on her arm, she would + walk along the paths of the garden and then put them both down on the + bench in the box arbour, while she tended the plants and shrubs that were + beginning to shoot. + </p> + <p> + In the evening, when the bell rang for benediction, she called all her + little brothers and they went off to church together. From every side came + wives in hooded cloaks and lads in wooden shoes that stamped on the great + floor till it echoed in the silent nave. + </p> + <p> + The choir was a semicircular, homely little chapel, with narrow pointed + windows, black at this hour, like deep holes, with leads outlining saints + in shapeless dark patches of colour. The altar was a mass of burning + candles; and a flickering gleam fell on the brass candlesticks, the little + gold leaves and the artificial flowers and on the corners of the silver + monstrance, which stood glittering high up in a little white satin house. + All of this was clouded in a blue smoke which rose from the holes of the + censer continuously swung to and fro by the arm of a roguish serving-boy. + Far at the back, in the dark, in the black stripes of shadow cast by the + pillars or under the cold bright patch of a lamp or a stand of votive + candles was an old wife, huddled under her hood, with bent back, praying, + and here and there a troop of boys who by turns dropped their wooden shoes + or fought with one another’s rosaries. + </p> + <p> + Near the communion-bench knelt Horieneke, her eyes wide open, full of + brightness and gladness and ecstacy, face to face with Our Lord. The + incense smelt so good and the whole little church was filled with the + trailing chords of the organ and with soft, plaintive Latin chant. Her + lips muttered automatically and the beads glided through her fingers: + numbered Hail Marys like so many roses that were to adorn her heart + against the coming of the great God. Her thoughts wafted her up to Heaven + in that wide temple full of glittering lights where, against the high + walls full of pedestals and niches, the saints, all stiff with gold and + jewels, stood smiling under their haloes and the nimble angels flew all + around on their white-plaster wings. She had something to ask of every one + of them and they received her prayer in turns. When the priest stood up in + his gleaming silver cope, climbed the three steps and took the Blessed + Sacrament in his white hands to give the benediction; when the bell + tinkled and the censer flew on high and the organ opened all its throats + and the glittering monstrance slowly made a cross in the air and above the + heads of the worshippers, she fell forward over her praying-stool and lay + like that, swooning in mute adoration, until all was silent again, the + candles out and she sitting alone there in the dark with a few black + shapes of cloaked women who wandered discreetly from one station of the + Cross to the next. Outside she heard her brothers playing in the + church-square. There she joined the little girls of her school; and, arm + in arm, they walked along past the dark houses and the silent trees, each + whispering her own tale: about her new dress, her veil, her white shoes, + her long taper with golden bows; about flowers and beads and prayers.... + </p> + <p> + After supper, Horieneke had to rock the baby to sleep, while mother moved + about, and then to say the evening prayers out loud, after which they all + of them went to bed. On reaching her little bedroom, she visited all the + prints and images hanging on the walls. She then undressed and listened + whether any one was still awake or up. Next she carefully crept down the + three stairs<a href="#linknote-6" name="linknoteref-6" id="linknoteref-6"><small>6</small></a> + in her little shift and clambered up the ladder to the loft, where all her + little brothers lay playing in a great box-bed. They knew that she would + come and had kept a place for her in the middle. She sank deep in the + straw and, when they all lay still, she went on with the tale which she + had broken off yesterday half-way. It was all made up of long, long + stories out of <i>The Golden Legend</i> and wonderful adventures of far + beyond the sea in unknown lands. She told it all so prettily, so + leisurely; and the children listened like eager little birds. High up in + the dusk of the rafters they saw all those things happening before their + eyes in the black depths and saw the mad fairy-dance there, until they + dreamed off for good and all and Horieneke was left the only one awake, + still telling her story. Then she crept carefully back to her room and + into bed, where she lay counting: how many more days, how many times + sleeping and getting up and how many more lessons to learn ... and then + the great day! The great day! Slowly she made all the days, with their + special happenings, appear before her eyes; and she enjoyed beforehand all + those beautiful things which had kept her so long a-longing. When, in her + thoughts, it came to Saturday evening and at last, slowly—like a box + with something wonderful inside which you daren’t open—to that + Sunday morning, then her heart began to flutter, a thrill ran through her + body and, so that she shouldn’t weep for gladness, she bit her lips, + squeezed her hands between her knees and rubbed them until the ecstasy was + passed and she again lay smiling in supreme content and shivering with + delight. + </p> + <p> + Time dragged on; cold weather came and rain and it seemed as if it never + would be summer. And that constant repetition of getting up and going to + bed and learning her lessons and counting the hours and the minutes became + so dreary and seemed to go round and round in an endless circle. + </p> + <p> + To-day at last was the long-awaited holiday when Horieneke might go into + town with mother to buy clothes. Her heart throbbed; and she walked beside + mother, with eyes wide-open, looking round at every window, up one street + and down another, crying aloud each time for joy when she saw pretty + things displayed. They bought white slippers with little bows, a splendid + wreath of white lilies of the valley, a great veil of woven lace, a + white-ivory prayer-book, a mother-of-pearl rosary with a little glass + peep-hole in the silver crucifix, showing all manner of pretty things. + Horieneke sighed with happiness. Mother haggled and bargained, said within + herself that it was “foolishness to waste all that money,” but bought and + went on buying; and, every time something new went into the big basket, it + was: + </p> + <p> + “Don’t tell father what it cost, Rieneke!” + </p> + <p> + All those pretty things were locked away in the bedroom at home and hung + up in the oak press, while father was still at work. + </p> + <p> + On another evening, when mother and Horieneke were alone at home, the + seamstress brought the new clothes: a whole load of white muslin in stiff + white folds full of satin bows and ribbons and white lace. They had to be + tried on; and Horieneke stood there, for the first time in her life, all + in white, like an angel. But the happiness lasted only for a spell: there + came a noise and every one in the room fled and the clothes were hastily + taken off and put away. + </p> + <p> + Every day, when the boys were at school and father in the fields, + neighbours came to look at the clothes. Piece after piece was carefully + taken out of the press and spread out for show on the great bed. The wives + felt and tested the material, examined the tucks and seams and the knots + and the lining, the bows and ribbons and clapped their hands together in + admiration. It became known all over the village that Horieneke would be + the finest of all in the church. + </p> + <p> + The counted days crept slowly by, the sun climbed higher every day and the + mornings and evenings lengthened. Things out of doors changed and grew as + you looked: the young green stood twinkling on every hand; the fields lay + like coloured carpets, sharply outlined; and the trees grew long, pale + branches with leaves which stood out like stately plumes against the sky, + so full of youth and freshness and free from dust as yet and tender. In + course of time, white buds came peeping, gleaming amid the delicate young + leaves, till all looked like a spotted altar-cloth: a promising splendour + of white blossoms. Here and there in the garden an early flower came + creeping out. Yonder, in the dark-blue wood, patches of brown and of pale + colour stood out clearly, with a whole variety of vivid hues. And it had + all come so unexpectedly, all of a sudden, as though, by some magic of the + night, it was all set forth to adorn and grace a great festival. + </p> + <p> + In the fields, the folk were hard at work. The land was turned up and torn + and broken by the gleaming plough and lay steaming in purple clods in the + sun’s life-giving rays. Everything swarmed with life and movement. The + houses were done up and coated with fresh whitewash, the shutters painted + green, till it all shouted from afar in a glad mosaic, with the blue of + the sky and the young leafage of the trees, under the brown, moss-grown + roofs. + </p> + <p> + And the days crept on, each counted and marked off: so many white stripes + on the rafters and black stripes on the almanack; they fell away one by + one and the Saturday came, the long-expected eve of the great Sunday. + Quite early, before sunrise, the linen hung outside, the white smocks and + shirts waving, like fluttering pennons, from the clothes-lines in the + white orchard. Horieneke also was up betimes and helping mother in her + work. From top to bottom everything had to be altered and done over again + and cleansed. It was only with difficulty that she got to school. The last + time! To-day, the great examination of conscience, the general confession + and the communion-practice; and, to-night, everything to be laid out ready + for to-morrow morning: all this kept running anyhow through her head and + among the lines of her lesson-book. + </p> + <p> + Half-way through the morning they went to church. The children there all + looked so glad, so happy and so clean and neat in their second-best + clothes and so nicely washed. They now made their confessions for the last + time; and it all went so pleasantly: they had done no wrong for such a + long while and all their sins had already been forgiven two or three times + over, yesterday and the day before. They sat in two long rows waiting + their turns and thinking over, right away back to their far-off babyhood, + whether nothing had been forgotten or omitted: their little hearts must be + quite stainless now and pure. When they were tired of examining their + consciences, they fell to praying, with their eyes fixed upon the saint + who stood before them on his pedestal, or else watched the other + youngsters going in and out by turns. + </p> + <p> + The little church looked its best, neat as a new pin: the floor was + freshly scrubbed and the chairs placed side by side in straight rows; the + brasswork shone like gold; and a new communion-cloth hung, like a + snow-white barrier, in front of the sanctuary. The velvet banners were + stripped of their linen covers; and the blue vases, with bright flowers + and silver bunches of grapes, were put out on the altar, as on feast-days. + And all of this was for to-morrow! And for them! + </p> + <p> + All the time it was deathly still, with not a sound but that of the + youngsters going in and out of the creaking confessional. Now and then the + church-door flapped open and banged to, when one of the children had + finished and went away. Their little souls were white as new-fallen snow + and bedight with indulgences and prayers. On their faces lay the fresh + innocence of babes brought to baptism or of laughing angels’ heads and in + their wide eyes everything was reflected festively and at its best; they + felt so light and lived on little but longing and a holy fear of their own + worthiness: that great, incredible thing of the morrow was suddenly going + to change them from children into grown-up people! + </p> + <p> + They just gave themselves time to have their dinners in a hurry; and then + back to school, where they were to learn how to receive communion. A few + benches placed next to one another represented the communion-rails; and + there they practised the whole afternoon: with studied piety, their hands + folded and their heads bowed, they learnt how to genuflect, how to rise, + how to approach in ranks and return at a sign from the old nun, who tapped + with a key on the arm of her chair each time that a new row of youngsters + had to start, kneel or go back. In a short time this went as exactly, as + evenly as could be, just like soldiers drilling. Finally, they had to + recite once more their acts of faith, adoration and thanksgiving; and + Horieneke and the first of the little boys had to write out on large + sheets of paper the preparation and thanks which they had learnt by heart, + to be read to-morrow in church. After that, they were drawn up in line and + silently and mysteriously led into the convent. + </p> + <p> + The children held their breath and walked carefully down long passages, + between high, white walls, past closed doors with inscriptions in Gothic + letters and a smell of clean linen and apples: ever on and on, through + more passages, till they reached a large hall full of chairs where Mother + Prioress—a fat and stately nun, with her great big head covered by + her cap and her hands in her sleeves—sat upon a throne. They had to + file past her, one by one, with a low bow, and then sit down. + </p> + <p> + Mother Prioress settled herself in her seat, coughed and, in a rich, + throaty voice, began by telling the youngsters how they were to address + Our Lord; told stories of children who had become saints; and she ended by + slowly and cautiously producing a little glass case in which a thorn out + of Our Lord’s crown lay exposed on a red-velvet cushion. And then they + were sent home. + </p> + <p> + On the way, Horieneke came upon her brothers playing in the sand. They had + scooped it up in their wooden shoes and poured it into a heap in the + middle of the road and then wetted it; and now they were boring all sorts + of holes in it and tunnels and passages and making it into a rats’-castle. + She let them be, gathered up her little skirts, so as not to dirty them, + and passed by on one side. + </p> + <p> + Mother was up to her elbows in the golden dough of the cakebread, stirring + and beating and patting the jumble of eggs and flour and milk. Horieneke + took the crying baby out of the cradle, shaking and tossing it in the air, + and went into the garden just outside the door. The golden afternoon sun + lay all around and everything was radiant with translucid green. The + little path lay neatly raked and the yellow daffodils stood, like brass + trumpets, closely ranked on their stalks; under the shrubs bright violets + peeped out with raised eyebrows, like the grinning faces of little old + wives. The whole garden was filled with a scent of fresh jasmine and a + cool fragrance of cherry-blossom and peach. + </p> + <p> + It was all so still and peaceful that Horieneke, who had begun to sing, + stopped in the middle and stood listening to the chaffinches and siskins + chattering pell-mell. + </p> + <p> + From there she went to her little bedroom, laid the child on her bed and + drew the curtains before the window which let in the sun in a thousand + slender beams of dusty light. The pictures and images gleamed on the wall + and the saints seemed to smile with happiness in that cool air, fragrant + of gillyflowers and white jasmine. She took out her new prayer-book, + flicked the silver clasp open and shut and played with the little shaft of + light which the gilt edge sent running all round the white walls. Then she + stood musing for a long time, gazing out through the little curtains at + those white trees in blossom, around and above which the golden pollen + danced, and at all that huge green field and the everlasting sun and all + the blue on the horizon. And, feeling tired, she laid her head on the bed + beside the baby and lingered there, dreaming of all the delight and beauty + of the morrow. + </p> + <p> + Mother called her and Horieneke came down. Mam’selle Julie was there, who + had promised to come and curl the child’s hair. Mam’selle put on a great + apron and began to undress Horieneke; then a great tub of rain-water was + carried in and the girl was scrubbed and washed with scented soap till the + whole tub was full of suds. Her head was washed as well and her hair + plaited into little braids, which were rolled up one by one and wound in + curl-papers and fastened to her head, under a net. Her cheeks and neck + shone like transparent china with the rosy blood coursing underneath. When + she was done, Mam’selle Julie went off to the other communicants. + </p> + <p> + The boys were lying on their backs, under the walnut-tree, talking, when + Horieneke came past. They looked at the funny twists on her head and went + on talking: Wartje longed most of all to put on his new breeches; Fonske + was glad that Uncle Petrus was coming to-morrow and Aunt Stanske and + Cousin Isidoor; Bertje because of the dog-cart<a href="#linknote-7" + name="linknoteref-7" id="linknoteref-7"><small>7</small></a> and the dogs + and the chance of a ride; Wartje because of all that aunt would bring with + her in her great wicker basket; and Dolfke longed for father to come home + from work, so that he might help to clean the rabbits. + </p> + <p> + The sun played with the gold in the leaves of the walnut-tree; and the + radiant tree-top was all aswarm and astir and little golden shafts were + shooting in all directions. The first butterfly of the year rocked like a + white flower through the air. + </p> + <p> + “I smell something!” said Dolfke. + </p> + <p> + They all sniffed and: + </p> + <p> + “Mates! They’re taking the cake-bread out of the oven!” + </p> + <p> + They rushed indoors one on top of the other. On the table lay four + golden-yellow brown-crusted loaves, as big as cart-wheels, steaming till + the whole house smelt of them. + </p> + <p> + “First let it cool! Then you can eat it,” said mother and gave each of + them a flat scone. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mother.” + </p> + <p> + And they trotted round the kitchen holding their treasures high above + their heads and screaming with delight. + </p> + <p> + Behind the elder-hedge they heard father’s voice humming: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When the sorrel shows, + ‘Tis then the month of May, O!... +</pre> + <p> + They ran to him, took the tools out of his hands and: + </p> + <p> + “Father, the rabbits! The rabbits now, father?” + </p> + <p> + “Will it be fine weather to-morrow?” asked Horieneke. + </p> + <p> + “For sure, child: just see how clear the sun is setting.” + </p> + <p> + He pointed to the west; and the boys stood on tip-toe to see the sinking, + dull-glowing disk hang glittering in its gulf of orange cloud-reefs, + pierced through and through with bright rays that melted away high in the + pale blue and grey, while that disk hung there so calmly, as though frozen + into the sky for ever. + </p> + <p> + Father had one or two things to do and then the boys might come along to + the rabbits. + </p> + <p> + “The two white ones, eh, father?” + </p> + <p> + Father nodded yes; and Sarelke and Dolfke skipped along the boards to the + hutch and came back each carrying a long white rabbit by the ears. + </p> + <p> + Dolfke held his close to the ground, hidden behind a tree, so that it + shouldn’t see the other’s blood and foresee its own death. While father + was sharpening his knife, Fonske took a cord and tied the hind-legs of + Sarelke’s rabbit and hung it, head down, on a nail under the eaves. Father + struck it behind the ears so that it was dazed and, rolling its eyes, + remained hanging stock-still. Before it had time to scream, the knife was + in its neck and the throat was cut open. A little stream of dark blood + trickled to the ground and clotted; and some of it hung like an icicle + from the beard, which dripped incessantly with red drops. + </p> + <p> + Fonske carefully put his finger to the rabbit’s nose and licked off a drop + of blood. + </p> + <p> + “It’s going home,” said Sarelke. + </p> + <p> + “Is it dead, father?” sighed Wartje. + </p> + <p> + “Stone-dead, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + He ripped one buttock with his knife and pulled off the skin; then the + other, so that the blue flesh was laid bare and the little purple veins. + One more tug and the creature hung disfigured beyond all knowledge, in its + bare buttocks and its fat, bulging paunch, with its head all over blood + and its eyes sticking out. The belly and breast were cut open from end to + end and the guts removed; the gall-bladder was flung into the cess-pool; + two bits of stick, to keep the hind-legs and the skin of the stomach + apart, and the thing was done. The other was treated likewise; and the two + rabbits hung skinned and cleaned, stiffening high up on the gable-end. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile mother had got supper ready: a heap of steaming potatoes soaking + in melted butter and, after that, bread-and-butter and a pan of porridge. + Horieneke, by way of a treat, got a couple of eggs and a slice of the new + cakebread; and she sat enjoying this at the small table. After supper, the + boys had to be washed and cleaned. They started undressing here and + undressing there; serge breeches and jackets flew over the floor; and one + after the other they were taken in hand by mother, beside a kettle of + water, where they were rubbed and rinsed with foaming soap-suds. Then each + was given a clean shirt; and away to bed with them! They jumped and, with + their shirt-tails waving behind them, skipped about and smacked one + another until father came along and stopped their game. Mother had still + her floor to scrub; and Horieneke read out evening prayers while the boys + knelt beside their bed. + </p> + <p> + Now all grew still. Father smoked a pipe and took a stroll in the + moonlight through the orchard, where he had always something to look after + or to do. Indoors the broom went steadily over the floor; whole kettlefuls + of water were poured out and swept away and rubbed dry. Then the stove was + lit; and, while mother blacked the shoes, father made the coffee. They + mumbled a bit together—about to-morrow’s doings, about the children, + the work, the hard times and their troublesome landlord, the farmer of the + woodside—when there came a noise from the little bedroom and the + door creaked softly. Horieneke suddenly appeared in the middle of the + floor in her little nightgown; and, before father and mother had got over + their surprise, the child was on her knees, asking: + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, father and mother, for all the wrong that I have done you in + my life; and I promise you now to be always good and obedient....” + </p> + <p> + Mother was furious at first; and then, at the sight of the kneeling figure + and the sound of the tearful little voice, her anger fell and she felt + like crying. Father hated all that sentimental rubbish: + </p> + <p> + “Come, you baggage, quick to bed!... Forgive you? What for?... Nonsense, + nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + The child kept on weeping: + </p> + <p> + “Father, please, it’s my first communion to-morrow and we must first + receive forgiveness: Sister at school said so....” + </p> + <p> + “The sisters at school are mad! And they’ll make you mad too! To bed with + you now, d’you hear?” + </p> + <p> + Mother could stand it no longer; she sobbed aloud, took Horieneke under + the arms and lifted her to her breast. She felt a lump in her throat and + could hardly get out her words: + </p> + <p> + “It’s all forgiven, my darling. God bless you and keep you! And now go + quick to bed; you have to be up early to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Horieneke put her arm over mother’s shoulders and whispered softly in her + ear: + </p> + <p> + “I have something else to ask you, mother. All the children’s parents are + going to communion to-morrow: shall you too, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Make your heart easy, dear; it’ll be all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, will you call me in good time to-morrow morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + The house grew quiet as the grave; and soon a manifold snoring and + grunting sounded all through the bedroom and the loft. Outside it was + twilight and the blossoms shone pale white in the orchard. The crickets + chirped far and near.... + </p> + <p> + This was the last evening and morning: when it was once more so late and + dark, everything would be over and done! All those days, all that long + array of light and darkness, of learning and repeating lessons—a + good time nevertheless—was past and gone; and, now that the great + thing, always so remote, so inaccessible, was close at hand, she was + almost sorry that the longing and the aching were to cease and she almost + felt afraid. Should she dare to sleep to-night? No. ‘Twas so good to lie + awake thinking; and she had still so much praying to do: her heart was + still far from ready and prepared. + </p> + <p> + “O God, I am a poor little child and Thou art willing to come to me.... + Dear Virgin Mary, make my soul as pure as snow, so that it may become a + worthy dwelling-place for thy Divine Son.” + </p> + <p> + The white dress now lay spread out upon the best bed in the big bedroom + and her wreath too, with all the rest. She already saw herself clad in all + that white wealth like a little queen, standing laughing through her + golden curls! She felt the little knots of paper on her head; to-morrow + they would be released and would open into a cloud of ringlets; and the + people, who would all look at her; and aunt.... Now just to recite her + words once more for to-morrow in church.... And that pretty picture which + the priest would give her.... Was she sure that nothing was forgotten? + Just let her think again: and her candle-cloth? Yes, that was there + too.... What could the time be? The clock was ticking like a heavy chap’s + footstep downstairs in the kitchen. It was deathly quiet everywhere. Now + she would lie and wait until the clock struck, so that she might know how + long it would be before it grew light. Her eyes were so tired and all + sorts of things were walking higgledy-piggledy up the white wall.... + </p> + <p> + Then, in the solemn stillness, the nightingale began to sing. Three clear + notes rang out from the echoing coppice; it was like the voice of the + organ in a great church. It sounded over the fields, to die away in a low, + hushed fluting. Now, louder and staccato, like a spiral stair of metallic + sound, the notes rang out, high and low alternately, in quickening time, a + running, rustling and rioting, with long-drawn pipings, wonderfully sweet, + that rose in a storm of bell-like tinklings, limpid as water, with a + strength, a violence, a precision exceeding the music of a hundred + thousand tipsy carrillons pealing through the silent night. And now again + the notes were softly weaving their fabric of sound: bewitchingly quiet, + intimately sweet, musingly careful, like the music of tiny glass bells; + and once more they were louder and again they fainted away, borne on the + still wind like the murmur of angels praying. + </p> + <p> + The blue velvety canopy was stretched on high, studded with twinkling + stars; and all about the country-side the trees stood white. On the + winding paths, among the pinks, anemones, guelder-roses and + jasmine-bushes, walked stately white figures in trailing garments, with + wreaths of white roses and yellow flowers gleaming on their golden + tresses, which they shook out over their white shoulders. All the world + was one pure vista full of blue, curling mist and fresh, untasted + fragrance. A soft melody of dreamy song was wafted through the air. And + Horieneke saw herself also playing in that great garden, an angel among + angels. Ropes hung stretched from tree to tree; and they swung upon them + and rocked with streaming hair and fluttering garments, floating high + above the tree-tops, light as the wind, in a shower of white blossoms. + They sang all together, with those who lay on the beds of white lilies and + violets: a song of unheard sweetness. Not one spoke of leaving off or + going home; they only wished to stay like that, without rain or darkness; + there was a continual happy frolic, a glad gaiety, in those spacious halls + where, in spite of the singing and the music, all things were yet so + deliciously, languidly still, still as the moonlight. + </p> + <p> + Yonder, by the dark wood, the steady swish of a sickle was heard; and this + made a fearsome noise in the tenuous night. A gigantic man stood there; + his head looked over the trees and his wide-stretched arms swung the + sickle and a pick-hook; and, stroke by stroke, the foliage and the flowers + fell beneath his hands as he passed. The singing gradually ceased, the + swings fell slack and the frolic changed into an anxious waiting, as + before thunder. One and all stood in terror and dismay staring at that + giant approaching. The blue of the sky darkened and the angels vanished, + like lamps that were blown out. The flowers were faded and the whole plain + lay mown flat, like a stricken wilderness; and that fellow with his + sickle, who now drew himself up to contemplate his finished work, was ... + her father! + </p> + <p> + She started awake and trembled with fright. It had been so beautiful that + she sighed at the thought of it; and outside was the twilight of advancing + dawn. It was daylight! Sunday! She jumped out of bed in a flash and pulled + open the window. The trees were there still and the flowers too and all + the white of last night, but so pale, dim and colourless beside the + glittering brightness of a moment ago ... and never an angel! She gave a + sigh. The sky was hung with a thick grey shroud; and in the east a long + thin cleft had been torn in the grey; and behind that, deep down, was a + dull-golden glow, gleaming like a great brazen serpent. A keen wind shook + the cherry-blossom and blew a cold, fragrant air into the window. All the + green distance lay dead as yet, half-hidden, asleep in the morning mist; + and neither man nor beast was visible, nor even a wreath of smoke from a + chimney. + </p> + <p> + What was the time? She threw a wrap over her shoulders, which were getting + chilled, and went carefully down the bedroom steps. It was still dark in + the kitchen. She groped, found and lit a sulphur match and lifted the + flame to the clock. Four! She was so much used to seeing the hands in that + position in the afternoon and they now looked so silly that she stood for + a long time thinking, foolishly, what she ought to do: call mother or + creep back into bed and sleep. She felt so uncomfortably cold and it was + still so dark: she went up again and stood looking out. + </p> + <p> + The birds twittered in the trees and the wide cleft in the east yawned + wider and wider. Was it going to be a fine day after all? Everything for + which she had waited so long was there now and so strange, so totally + different from what she had imagined: instead of that leaping gladness + there was something like fear and nervous trembling; she could have wept; + and, merely for the sake of doing something, she went down on her knees + beside the bed and said the prayers which she had learnt by heart: + </p> + <p> + “Lord God, I give Thee my heart. Deign to make Thyself a worthy dwelling + in it and to abide there all the days of my life....” + </p> + <p> + The clock struck; it was half-past four and no one yet astir. + </p> + <p> + Now she went downstairs again. In the room lay her white dress, her + wreath, her prayer-book: it was all ready; if only somebody would wake! + Dared she call? They lay sleeping side by side: father was snoring, with + his mouth open, and mother’s fat stomach and breasts rose and fell + steadily. + </p> + <p> + “Mother!” + </p> + <p> + Nobody heard. + </p> + <p> + “Mother!!” + </p> + <p> + And then she pulled at the coverlet and cried repeatedly, a little louder + each time: + </p> + <p> + “Mother! Mother!! Mother!!!” + </p> + <p> + That was better. Mother turned on her side, lifted her head and rubbed her + eyes with her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Mother, it’s nearly five; we shall be late!” + </p> + <p> + Mother, drunk with sleep, kept on looking at the window and yawning: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, child, I’ll come at once.” + </p> + <p> + She got up and came out in her short blue petticoat stretched round her + fat hips, with an open slit behind, and her loose jacket and wooden shoes + on. She lit the stove. Horieneke read her morning prayers. Mother’s heavy + shoes clattered over the floor outside and in again; she put on and took + off the iron pots with the goats’ food, drew fresh water and made the + coffee. + </p> + <p> + Mam’selle Julie was coming along the rough road. + </p> + <p> + “You’re in good time!” cried mother from the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Frazie. Up already, Horieneke? It’ll be a fine day to-day.” + </p> + <p> + She took off her hooded cloak, put on a clean apron and turned up her + sleeves. Horieneke was washed all over again while mother poured out the + coffee. Then they sat down. Horieneke kept her lips tight-closed so as not + to forget that she must remain fasting. She slowly pulled on her new + stockings and stretched out her hand to the bench on which the white + slippers lay. She took off her sleeping-jacket and her little skirt and + stood waiting in her shift. When the tongs were well warmed, Mam’selle + Julie seized the little paper twists in the hot iron and opened them out. + From each fold a curled tress came rolling down; and at last, combed out + and bound up with blue-silk ribbon, it all stood about her head in a light + mist of pale-gold silk, like a wreath of light around her bright, fresh + face. Her dirty shift was dragged off downwards and mother fetched the new + scapular and laid it over the child’s bare shoulders. The first-communion + chemise was of fine white linen and trimmed with crochet lace. Julie took + out the folds and drew it over Horieneke’s head. Then came white + petticoats, bodices and skirts. The child stood passively, in the middle + of the floor, with her arms wide apart to give free room to Julie, who + crept round on her knees, sticking in a pin here, smoothing a crease + there. Mother fetched the things as they were wanted. There was a constant + discussing, approving, asking if it wouldn’t meet or if it hung too wide, + all in a whisper, so as not to wake the boys. + </p> + <p> + There came a scrabbling overhead and down the stairs; and, before any one + suspected it, Bertje stood dancing round Horieneke in his shirt. + </p> + <p> + “Jesu-Maria! Oo, you rascal!” + </p> + <p> + And the corset which mother held in her hand was sent flying up the stairs + after the boy, who in three jumps was gone and up above. The others lay + laughing in bed when Bertje told them that he had seen Horieneke all in + white, with a bunch of red-gold curls round her head, and that mother had + thrown something at him. + </p> + <p> + The corset was laced up and Mam’selle Julie told the child to hold her + breath to let them get her body tighter. Now for the white frock: the + skirt was slipped down over her head until it stood out in light, stiff + pleats; the white bodice encased her body firmly and stuck out above the + shoulders, its puffed sleeves trimmed with little white-satin bows and + ribbons at every seam and fold. Over it hung the veil, which shrouded her + as in a white cloud. The wreath was put on, looked at from a distance and + put on again until it was right at last, with the glittering beads in + front, shining among the auburn curls, and the long streamer of threaded + lilies of the valley behind, nestling in the tresses on her back. The + white gloves, her prayer-book and candle-cloth, a few pennies in her bead + purse; and ‘twas done. + </p> + <p> + The child was constantly twisted and turned and examined from every side. + She did not know herself in all her splendour: the Horieneke of yesterday, + in her blue bird’s-eye bib and black frock was a poor thing compared with + the present Horieneke, something far removed from this white apparition, + something quite forgotten. She stood stiff as a post in the middle of the + kitchen, without daring to look round or stir; she felt so light and airy + in those rustling folds and pleats and all that muslin that she seemed not + to touch the ground. She did not know what to do with her arms, how to + tread with her feet; and her thoughts were straying: the part she had to + play was all gone out of her head; she would be as fine as this all day + long, but oh, so uncomfortable! + </p> + <p> + Mother put on stockings and shoes, donned her cap, turned her apron, threw + her cloak over her shoulders; she called her husband; then: + </p> + <p> + “There, boys, we’re off; don’t forget your drop of holy water, all of + you!” + </p> + <p> + The door fell back into the latch with a bang; and the three of them were + on the road. A gust of wind laden with white blossoms out of the orchard + greeted them. Horieneke held the tips of her veil closed against the wind + and stepped out like a little maid in a procession. The two women came + behind and had no eyes for anything but Horieneke: the fall of those white + folds, the whirling of the veil and the dancing of the lilies of the + valley in the auburn locks. They said nothing. + </p> + <p> + The sky still hung grey with its yawning cleft widening in the east; and + out of it there beamed a sober, uncertain light, which fell upon + everything with a dead gleam: it was like noonday in winter. Over the + fields and in the trees drifted thin wisps of mist, like floating blue + veils blown on by the wind. Below in the meadow the cock had started + crowing amid his flock of peacefully pecking pullets. It was very fresh, + rather cold indeed, out on the high road. + </p> + <p> + All the little paths led to the church; and in every direction, along the + flat fields, came people in their very best, with little white maids. The + wind played in their white veils and set them waving and flapping like wet + flags. + </p> + <p> + “The children’ll have good weather,” said Mam’selle Julie; and, a little + later, to Horieneke, “What are you going to ask of Our Lord now, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, so much, so much, Mam’selle Julie! I myself hardly know.... For + father and mother and all the family and that I may always be a good girl + and stay at home with them and not fall among wicked people and that we + may all live a long time and go to Heaven....” + </p> + <p> + “And that the harvest may succeed and we be able to pay the rent ... and + for the farmer ... and that father may keep in health and be fit to work,” + mother ordered. + </p> + <p> + They reached the village. Mother remained waiting among the folk in the + street; Horieneke, with the other youngsters, went through the + school-gates where their wax tapers stood burning above the bunches of + gold flowers and leaves shining in the warm light. The children looked at + one another’s clothes, whispered in one another’s ears what theirs had + cost and wrangled as to which looked the prettiest. The boys vied with one + another in showing their bright pennies and their steel watch-chains. + </p> + <p> + The procession filed out: first the acolytes, in scarlet, with gleaming + crucifix, brass candle-sticks and censer, followed by boys and girls + symbolically dressed, a lilting dance of flags and banners in brilliant + colours. Next came the priest, in a gorgeous vestment stiff with silk and + silver thread and gold tracery; and, in two rows, on either side of the + street, preceded by four little angels with gold wings, the + first-communicants, really such on this occasion, in their proper clothes, + with the great wax tapers in their white-gloved hands and a glow in their + faces and laughter in their eyes. All the people crowded after them, + through the street to the church. The bells rang out, the priest sang with + the sacristan and the whole procession triumphantly entered the wide + church-doors. There was a mighty stamping and pushing to get near and to + see the children sitting in straight rows on the front benches of the + nave. The girls settled in their clothes and the boys looked down at their + stiff, wide cloth breeches and their new shoes, or shoved their fingers up + their noses or into their tight collar-bands. The organ droned out a + mighty prelude; the priest, all in gold, stood at the altar; the ceremony + began; the people were silent and prayed over their prayer-books. + </p> + <p> + The sun appeared! And green and red and yellow shafts of light slanted + through the stained-glass panes and mingled with the blue incense-wreaths. + They made the corners of the brasswork shine and brought smiles to the + faces of the saints in their niches. A splash of gold fell on the curly + heads of the children, dark and fair; and tiny rays flashed upon the gilt + edges of their prayer-books. The congregation prayed diligently and the + full voices sang the joyful <i>Gloria in excelsis</i> with the organ. + </p> + <p> + After the Gospel, the priest hung up his chasuble on the stand and mounted + the pulpit. After a noisy shifting of chairs and dragging of feet and + coughing, the people sat still, with their faces turned to the priest. He + began by reading out the notices in a snuffling tone: the intentions of + the masses for the ensuing week; the names of those about to be married or + lately deceased. Then he waited, cast his eyes over that level multitude + of raised heads, pulled up his white sleeves and turned his face towards + the children. His drawling voice wished them <i>proficiat</i>. + </p> + <p> + It was the first time in their lives that the youngsters saw that face + turned expressly towards them from a pulpit and also the first time that + they listened to the sermon with attention. They kept their eyes fixed on + the priest so as not to lose a word. The great day had arrived; a few + moments more and they would be completing the solemn task, they, small + children, the task that was denied to the pure angels in heaven. + </p> + <p> + “And that work must be the foundation on which all your future life is + based. Your souls are now so clean, so pure, they are shining like clear + water and are quite spotless. For years we have taught and instructed and + prepared you in order to teach your virgin hearts, this day, now, in this + beautiful chapel, to receive that strengthening food, that miracle of + God’s love. Remember it always: this is the happiest day of your lives! + You are still innocent and about to receive the Bread that raises the + dead, cleanses sinners and purifies the fallen. You are still in your + first youth, without experience of life, and are already allowed to + approach the Holy Table and share the strengthening food that supports men + and women in the trials of life. This also is the propitious moment, the + mighty hour in which Our Lord can refuse you nothing that you ask Him. So + make use of it, ask Him much, ask Him everything: for your parents and + your masters, who have done so much for you, for your pastors, your + village and especially for yourselves, that He may keep you from sin and + continue to dwell in your hearts and allow you to grow up into stout + champions of the faith and of your religion. It is the happiest day of + your lives. You are here now, to-day, with your bright, clear eyes, young + and beautiful as angels; we have watched over you, sheltered you against + all that could have harmed or offended your innocence, far from the + corrupt world of whose existence you have not even known. But to-morrow + you will enter the wide world, with only your weak flesh to fight against + life’s dangers: depravity, falsehood, lies and sin. Now life will begin + for you, now for the first time will you be called upon to fight, to show + courage and to stand firm. How many of those who once sat where you are + now sitting and who were pure and innocent as yourselves have now, alas, + become lost sinners, Judases who have rejected their God, devils as + roaring lions going about seeking whom they may devour! Be strong, listen + to your good parents: it is to them alone that you will have to listen + henceforth....” + </p> + <p> + He turned round to the other side and, continuing with the same rise and + fall in his voice, the same gestures of his thin right arm, with the + flowing white sleeve, and the same movement of his sharp profile high up + above the congregation, he began once more: + </p> + <p> + “To you, fathers and mothers, I also wish a cordial <i>proficiat</i>; for + you also this is a glad and memorable day. How long is it not since you + were kneeling there! And yet that day always lingers in your memory. Since + that time you have been plunged into the world, have had to struggle and + have perhaps fallen and more than once have known your courage fail you. + Now your children are sitting there! For years you have left them to our + care and to-day we give them back to you, instructed, enriched and + supplied with all that they can need to pass onward. You receive them this + day from our hands pure and innocent as on the day of their baptism. It is + for you henceforth to preserve and to maintain that virtue and purity in + them; it is for you to bring up these children so that later they may be + exemplary Christians. See to it that your own conduct edifies them: it is + according to you and all your actions that they will order their lives and + take example. Admonish them in good season and chastise them when + necessary: ‘He that spareth the rod hateth his son,’ says the Holy Ghost. + And keep your eyes open, for God will ask an account of your stewardship + and will reward or punish you according as you have brought them up well + or ill. A good son, a virtuous daughter are the joy and the comfort of + their parents.” + </p> + <p> + The congregation were greatly impressed. The mothers wept: the priest was + such a good, worthy old man, whom they had known all their lives; and they + liked hearing him say all those beautiful things: that reference to their + own childhood and to their youngsters, whom they now saw sitting there so + good and saintlike, waiting to receive Our Lord, brought the tears to + their eyes; and it did them good to feel their hearts throb, to feel that + lump in their throats; and they let the tears flow: after all, it was from + gladness. + </p> + <p> + The organ played softly and the changing tones mingled with the blue + wreaths that ascended from the sanctuary in a fragrant cloud, lingering + over the congregation. The celebrant offered the bread and wine to Our + Father in Heaven. And all this took time; the children were tired by their + tense concentration; their prayers had all been said two and three times + over; and they were now vacantly waiting and longing, looking at their + clothes, at the stained-glass windows in the choir or St. Anne in her + crimson cloak, or counting the stars that were painted high up on the + stone ceiling. + </p> + <p> + The altar-bell tinkled twice and thrice in succession; the <i>Sanctus</i> + was sung; and after that the organ was silenced. A hush fell over the + congregation and all heads dropped, as though mown down, in deep + reverence: not one dared look up. The priest genuflected, the bell sounded + repeatedly and, amid that great hush, thrice three notes of the great + church-bell droned through the church and rang out over the distant + fields. Outside, it was all blue and sunshine and silence; everything was + bowed in anxious expectation; it was as though there were nothing erect + and alive in the world except that little church and that bell. In the + farthest houses in the village the mothers were now kneeling and beating + their breasts, with their thoughts on Our Lord. The God of Heaven and + Earth had descended and was filling all things with His awful presence. + Carefully, slowly, almost timidly came the <i>Adoro te</i>; and the people + little by little raised their heads and sighed, as though relieved and + still quite awed by what had happened or was going to happen. + </p> + <p> + And now the ceremony began. After the <i>Agnus Dei</i> and the three + tinkles of the bell at the <i>Domine, non sum dignus</i>, the four little + angels came with hands folded and heads bowed, with their gold-paper wings + carefully furled behind them, and walked reverently to the front of the + church. Horieneke stood up, took her great sheet of paper and, in her + clear voice, read out her piece so that all the congregation could hear, + though she stopped to find her words at times and faltered here and there + because her heart was beating so violently and she had such a catch in her + throat: + </p> + <p> + “Then Thou wilt come to us, Almighty God! To us poor little sheep who, + hardly knowing what we did, have so often offended Thee. We are not worthy + to receive Thee, unless Thou say but the word that our souls may be + healed. And, as Thou hast ordained, we will, in fear and confidence, + approach Thee as poor little children approaching their kind Father. We + have nothing wherewith to repay the great love which Thou bearest us; we + are needy in all things; and all things must come from Thee. We are still + very young and have already gone astray, but we repent and are heartily + sorry to have caused Thee any grief. And, now that Thou art so unspeakably + good to us, we wish to be wholly loyal to Thee and to belong to Thee with + heart and soul; dispose of us henceforth as Thy servants and we shall be + filled with joy. Come then, O Jesus; our hearts pant with longing, our + souls are now prepared; we have begged Mary, our dear Mother, our guardian + angels and our blessed patron saints to make us worthy habitations for Thy + majesty.” + </p> + <p> + The silence was so great that one could hear a leaf fall. The congregation + wriggled where they knelt to see and held their breaths, full of + expectation. The nun struck her key on the back of her chair. Two little + angels went, step by step, to the communion-bench and the first row of + boys and girls followed. The little ones now looked very serious. They + held their heads bowed and their hands clasped; and their faces shone with + heavenly light and silent inner happiness. Horieneke was now like a white + flower; her transparent little waxen face, her delicately chiselled nose + and closed pink lips looked so angelic under her sunny curls and the white + of her veil. The children approached the choir silently and slowly: ‘twas + as though they were floating. At the second tap of the key, they knelt; + one more ... and their hands were under the lace communion-cloth. From the + organ-loft the <i>Magnificat</i> resounded. The priest took the ciborium, + gave the benediction and with stately tread descended the altar-steps. In + his slender fingers he held the Sacred Host, that small white disk which + stood out sharply above the silver vessel against the rich violet of his + chasuble. The children’s heads by turn dropped backwards and fell upon + their breasts, in ecstacy. The bells rang out; the choristers shouted + their hymn of praise; the priest murmured: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christ ...</i>” + </p> + <p> + The key tapped; and the angels kept leading new rows to the Holy Table and + bringing the others away again. And the great work went on in solemn + silence amid all that jubilant music. The congregation were lifted up, + their hearts throbbed and their tears welled with happiness and + contentment. + </p> + <p> + The last row had come back; and they were all now kneeling in adoration + when the head boy read out: + </p> + <p> + “What shall we return Thee, O Lord, for what Thou hast done for us! But + now we were mute, prostrate in adoration, amazed and awed by Thy mighty + presence in our hearts, bowed down in the dust of our humility; now at + last we dare raise our heads and thank Thee. We beseech Thee that Thou + wilt continue to dwell in our hearts, to reign there and to pour forth Thy + mercies there abundantly. We are frail creatures; and, were it not that + Thou, in Thy compassion, dost uphold us, we should continually and at + every moment fall and succumb in the rude gusts of life. We put our trust + in Thee and we know that Thou wilt succour us and that we shall enter the + life everlasting. Amen.” + </p> + <p> + It was over; and the congregation looked round impatiently to see how they + could get out of church quickest. Their tears were dried and their + thoughts were once more fixed on clothes, home, coffee and cakebread. + After the last sign of the cross, the men crowded outside; the mothers + sought their youngsters, kept them out of the crush for fear of accidents + and marched triumphantly through the two rows of sightseers that stood on + either side of the church-door. Now was the moment for showing-off, for + congratulation and admiration on every side, till the children did not + know which way to turn or what to say; and they were very hungry. All now + went with their friends to the tavern for a drop of Hollands; and from + there mother went home with two or three wives of the neighbourhood. + </p> + <p> + Horieneke walked behind. She was all by herself and wrapped in + contemplation: that great miracle was now over, all of a sudden, and she + could hardly believe it. Instead of enjoying all the happiness for which + she had waited so long, her heart was full of distress and she felt + inclined to cry. She had been so uneasy in church, so shy and frightened: + there was the reading of that paper before all those people; and directly + after, amid all the confusion, Our Lord had come. Hastily and very + distractedly she had said her prayers, had spoken, asked and prayed and + then waited for the miracle, waiting for Our Lord, Who now, living in her, + would speak. And nothing had happened, nothing: she had done her very best + to listen amidst the bustle outside and around her ... and yet nothing, + nothing! Meanwhile she had raised her head to breathe ... and the people + were leaving and she had to go with them: it was finished! It had all been + so matter-of-fact, just like the communion-practice of yesterday, when she + had merely swallowed a morsel of bread. Her heart beat in perplexity and + she feared that she had made an unworthy communion. + </p> + <p> + The wind blew under her veil, which flew up in the air behind her. She was + so pure, so unspotted in all that white; and, cudgel her brains as she + would, she could not remember any fault or sin which she had omitted to + confess. Though Our Lord had not spoken to her, He had been there all the + same and she had not heard Him because of all that was happening around + her. She ought to have been alone there, in a silent church. Even here, + outside, by the trees, would have been better. + </p> + <p> + The wives were asked in to coffee and they stood and waited for Horieneke + at the garden-gate. Indoors everything was anyhow: Fonske was going about + in his shirt, Bertje had one leg in his breeches and Dolfke sat on the + floor, playing with Trientje. Father had made coffee and stood with the + bottles and glasses ready, looking dumbfounded at his child, now that he + saw her for the first time in her white clothes. The boys crowded round + shyly; they no longer knew their sister in this great lady; they kept hold + of one another shyly, with their fingers in their mouths; they were unable + to speak a word. Mother threw off her cloak and began cutting + currant-bread and butter. Horieneke was made to take off her veil and + gloves and a towel was fastened under her chin. The wives and youngsters + sat down. First a drop to each; all drank to the health of the little + first-communicant; they touched glasses. Father poured out and Horieneke + had to drink too: she put the stuff to her lips, pulled a wry face and + pushed the glass away. The boys dipped and soaked the bread in their + coffee; and the wives started talking about their young days and about + clothes and the old ways and the fine weather and the fruit-crop. Mother + did nothing but cut fresh slices of bread-and-butter, which were snatched + away and gobbled up on every side. + </p> + <p> + “Eat away!” said father. + </p> + <p> + The hostess of “The Four Winds” had been unable to take her eyes off + Horieneke all through mass. + </p> + <p> + “Damned pretty, like a little angel!” said Stiene Sagaer. + </p> + <p> + “And a curly head of hair like a ball of gold! It made one’s mouth water! + And that wreath!” squealed the farmer’s wife from the Rent Farm. + </p> + <p> + “Mam’selle Julie had a hand in it.” + </p> + <p> + “And such pretty manners! Well, dear, Our Lord will be mighty pleased with + you.” + </p> + <p> + “And how nicely she read that piece!” said Stiene. “My blood crept when I + heard it. Look here, Wanne Vandoorn was sitting beside me; and, you can + take my word, the good soul couldn’t control herself and we both cried + till we sobbed.” + </p> + <p> + “I felt it too,” said mother. “Such things are cruel hearing. And the + priest....” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, he knows how to talk, that holy man! He’s a pure soul.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll regret it all your days, Ivo, that you weren’t there to see it.” + </p> + <p> + Father nodded and took another slice of bread-and-butter. + </p> + <p> + “It’ll take me all the week to tell about it at home,” said the farmer’s + wife. + </p> + <p> + The boys sat making fun among themselves of Stiene Sagaer’s crooked nose + and the squeaky voice of the farmer’s wife. When the wives had done + eating, they stood up and went. + </p> + <p> + When they had gone some little way, they turned round again and cried + against the wind: + </p> + <p> + “It’s going to be fine to-day, Ivo!” + </p> + <p> + “And warm!” piped the farmer’s wife. “Beautiful weather!” + </p> + <p> + They went down the sand-path, each wending her own way home. + </p> + <p> + The boys were now dressed and father, stripped to the waist, went out to + wash his face under the trees at the pump. His freshly-ironed white shirt + was brought out and his shiny boots and his blue smock-frock and + black-silk cap. After much fuss and turning and seeking, he got ready and + the boys too. Mother was busy with the baby in the cradle; Horieneke was + showing her new holy pictures to Trientje; and Bertje and the other boys + had gone out to play in the road. The bells rang again, this time for high + mass. Many small things had still to be rummaged out, clothes to be pinned + and buttoned; and the boys, with their Sunday penny in their pocket, + marched up the wide road to high mass. + </p> + <p> + The wind had dropped and the sun blazed in the clear blue of the sky, + which hung full of unravelled white cloud-threads, showing gold at the + edges. A gay light lay over all the young green; the huge fields were full + of waving corn, which swayed and bowed and straightened again, shining in + streaks as under clear, transparent water. The trees stood turned to the + sun, as though painted, so bright that from a distance one saw all the + leaves, finely drawn, gleaming against the shadows that lay below. Here + they stood in close hedges on either side of the road, trunk after trunk, + making a dark wall with a dense roof of leafage, which presently opened + out in a rift at the turn of the road, where four tree-trunks stood out + against the sky; and then the trees turned away to the left and were drawn + up in two new rows, which stretched out beside the road right across the + plain. Here and there a few other trees stood lonely in the fields, + gathered in small clumps, with the light playing between them; and far + away at the edge of the bright expanse, in a wealth of mingled green, amid + the tufted foliage with its changing hues and shadows, the little pointed + church showed above the uneven, red-tiled roofs. It was all like a restful + dream, made up of Sunday peace. Above and around, all the air was sounding + with the gay tripping music of the three bells as they rang together: a + laughing song in the glad sunshine, summoning from afar the people who + came from every side, clad in their best. The boys, in their new + red-brown, fustian breeches, standing stiff with the tailor’s crease in + them, and their thick, wide jackets and shiny hats, held father’s hand or + skipped round Horieneke, whom they could not admire enough. In the village + square they hid themselves and went to the booth to see how they could + best spend their pennies. + </p> + <p> + The people stayed in the street, looking about, and did not go into the + church until the little bell tolled out its tinkling summons and the last + little maid had been looked at and had disappeared. Then the men knocked + out their pipes against the tips of their shoes and sauntered in through + the wide church-door. + </p> + <p> + The incense still hung about the aisles and the sun sifted its golden dust + through the stained-glass windows right across the church. The + congregation stood crowded and crammed together behind their chairs, + looking at the gilt of the flowers and at the great mountain of votive + candles that were burning before the altar. The organ had all its pipes + wide open; and music streamed forth in great gusts that resounded in the + street outside. The priest sang and rough men’s voices chanted the + responses with the full power of their throats. And the high mass + proceeded slowly with its pomp of movement and song. The congregation + prayed from their books or, overcome by the heat, sat yawning or gazing at + the incense-wreaths or started nodding on their chairs. The saints stood + stock-still, smiling from their pedestals and proud in their high day + finery. When the singing ceased, one heard through the dreamy murmur of + the organ the spluttering of the burning candles and the clatter on the + brass dish of the sacristan making the collection. The priest once more + mounted the pulpit and, with the same gestures and action, delivered the + same admonitions as earlier in the morning. Again the people sat listening + and weeping; others slept. More organ-music and singing and praying and + the mass came to an end and the priest turned to the congregation and gave + the blessing. They streamed out of church in a thick crowd and stood in + the road again to see the youngsters pass. Then all of them made their + several ways to the taverns. The first-communicants had to call on aunts + and cousins and friends; and the poorer children went to show their + clothes and asked for pennies. + </p> + <p> + Horieneke and father and the brothers went straight home to await the + visitors. Before they reached the door, they smelt the butter burning in + the pan, the roast and the vegetables. The stove roared softly; and on the + flat pipe stood earthen and iron pots and pans simmering and fretting and + sending up clouds of steam to the rafters. Amidst it all, mother hurried + to and fro in her heavy wooden shoes. Her body still waggled in her wide + jacket and blue petticoat. Her face shone with grease and perspiration. + She puffed and sighed in the intolerable heat. The blue chequered cloth + lay spread on the table; and all around were the plates with the freshly + tinned spoons and forks and little beer-glasses.<a href="#linknote-8" + name="linknoteref-8" id="linknoteref-8"><small>8</small></a> Outside, the + boys sat in the top of the walnut-tree, waiting and peering for any one + coming. Father had taken off his blue smock and turned up his + shirt-sleeves and now went to see to his birds. That was his great hobby + and his work on Sunday every week. All the walls were hung with cages: in + that big one were two canaries, pairing; in the next, a hen-canary sitting + on her eggs; and in a little wire castle lived a linnet and a cock-canary + and three speckled youngsters. The finches were in a long row of darkened + cages and moulting-boxes. When he put out his hands, the whole pack + started singing and whistling; they sprang and fluttered against the bars + and pecked at his fingers. He took the cages down one by one, put them on + the table and whistled and talked to his birds, cleaned the trays and + filled the troughs with fresh water and seed. The canary-bird got a lump + of white sugar and the linnet half an egg, because of her young ones. Then + he stood and watched them washing their beaks and wings and splashing in + the water, pecking at their troughs now full of seed and at their sugar + and cheerfully hopping on and off their perches. Then, when they were all + hung up again in their places on the wall, they all started whistling + together till the kitchen rang with it. The baby screamed in its cradle. + Trientje cried and mother stamped across the floor in her heavy wooden + shoes. + </p> + <p> + “Hi, mates, I see something!” Fonske called from the walnut-tree. + </p> + <p> + The boys stretched their necks and so did father: it was jogging along in + the distance, coming nearer and nearer. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Petrus and Aunt Stanse in the dog-cart!” + </p> + <p> + They slithered out of the tree like cats and ran down the road as fast as + they could. The others now plainly heard the wheels rattling and saw the + great dogs tugging and leaping along as if possessed. High up in the car + sat uncle, with his tall hat on his round head, bolt upright in his glossy + black-broadcloth coat; and beside him broad-bodied Aunt Stanse, with + coloured ribbons fluttering round her cap and a glitter of beads upon her + breast. In between them sat Cousin Isidoor, half-hidden, waving his + handkerchief. They came nearer still, jolting up and down through the + streaks of shade and sunlight between the trees. Uncle Petrus flourished + his hand, pushed his hat back and urged the dogs on; aunt sat with her + face aflame and the drops of sweat on her chubby cheeks, laughing, with + her hands on her hips, because of the shaking of her fat stomach. The dogs + barked and leapt right and left at the boys. Petrus jumped nimbly out of + the cart, ran along the shafts and led the team with a stylish turn out of + the road, through the gate, into the little garden, where it pulled up in + front of the door. The dogs stood still, panting and lolling out their + tongues. Mother was there too and cried, “Welcome,” and took Doorke under + the armpits and lifted him out of the cart. Aunt began by handing out + baskets, parcels and bundles. Then, sticking out her fat legs, in their + white stockings, she climbed out of the cart and looked round at the + youngsters, who already stood hankering to know what was in the basket. + </p> + <p> + “Well, bless me, Frazie, I needn’t ask you how it goes with the chickens! + There’s a whole band of them and all sound and well: just look at them! + Oh, you fatty!” And she pinched Bertje’s red cheeks. “And you too, + Frazie.” + </p> + <p> + “Look at the state I’m in!” said mother, sticking her hands under the + apron stretched tight across her fat stomach and looking down at her bare + legs. “Such a heap to do, no time to dress yet.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re all right as you are, Frazie; you’ve no need to hide your legs nor + t’other either: you’ve a handsome allowance of both,” said Uncle Petrus, + chaffingly. “I’d like a drop of water for the dogs, though.” + </p> + <p> + Father sent the bucket toppling down the well and turned the handle till + it rose filled. The dogs stuck their heads into the bucket and lapped and + gulped greedily. Cousin stood staring bashfully amid all those + peasant-lads and all that jollity, while Bertje, Fonske and the others too + did not come near, but stood looking at the little gentleman with his fine + clothes and his thin, peaky face; they trotted and turned, whispered to + one another, went outside and came back again, laughed and said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “But the first-communicant! Where’s Horieneke?” asked Stanse, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + From the little green arbour, in between the trees, a golden curly-head + came peeping, followed by a little white body and little Trientje too, + holding a great bunch of yellow daffodils in her hand. Stanse stuck out + her arms in the air: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you little butterfly! Come along here, you’re as lovely as an angel!” + </p> + <p> + And she lifted Horieneke from among the flowers, right up to her beaded + breast, and pressed her thick lips to the child’s forehead with a + resounding smack. + </p> + <p> + “Godmother, godmother,” whimpered Trientje. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you too, my duck!” + </p> + <p> + And the child forthwith received two fat kisses on its little cheeks. + </p> + <p> + The dogs were now unharnessed and father and Petrus had gone for a stroll + in the orchard. The boys stood crowding against the table, looking at aunt + undoing her parcels. In one were sweet biscuits, in another brandy-balls, + peppermints, pear-drops and toffy. All this was carefully divided into + little stacks and each child was given his share, with the strict + injunction not to eat any before noon. Fonske hid his in the drawer, next + to the canary-seed, Dolfke his in the cupboard and Bertje shoved his + portion into his pockets. It was not long before three or four of them + were fighting like thieves and robbers, while Stanse and Frazie went to + look at the baby, which lay sleeping quietly in the cradle. + </p> + <p> + First one more drop of cherry-gin apiece and then to dinner. The soup + stood ready ladled out, steaming in the plates. Horieneke sat demurely in + the middle, next to Doorke, with uncle and aunt on either side and, lower + down, father and all the children: mother had to keep moving to and fro, + waiting on them, snatching a mouthful now and again betweenwhiles. When + every one was served and Trientje had stammered out her Our Father aloud, + father once more stood up, as the master of the house, and said: + </p> + <p> + “You are all of you welcome and I wish you a good appetite.” + </p> + <p> + The spoons began to clatter and the tongues to wag: uncle praised the + delicious leek-soup, so did aunt; and then came endless questions from + every side about the news of the district and all that had happened during + the last ten or twelve years, ever since Frazie had married and left her + home. + </p> + <p> + The children sat staring with wide-open eyes, now at their plates, now at + aunt with her fat cheeks and her diamond cross that hung glittering at the + end of a gold chain on her enormous breast; they counted the rings that + were spitted on her fingers right up to the knuckles; they gazed at her + earrings.... As the soup went down, the faces began to shine and mother + pulled at her jacket and complained of the dreadful heat. Father pushed up + the window and opened the back-door. The wind and the scented air, with + pollen from the cherry-trees, now blew across the table and played + refreshingly in their necks and ears. Mother kept on running about and + serving: it was hot carrots now and boiled beef. Father took the flowered + milk-jug and filled the little tumblers with beer. Slices of meat and fat + were cut off with the big carving-knife and distributed; each received his + plateful of glistening carrots; and the forks went bravely to work. After + that, the great iron pot was set on the table, with the rabbits, which, + roasted brown, lay outstretched in the appetizing, simmering gravy that + smelt so good; and beside it a dish of steaming potatoes. The little + tumblers were emptied and filled again; in between the loud talking you + could hear the crunching of the teeth and the cracking of the bones; the + children sat smeared to their eyes and picked the food in their plates + with their hands. Uncle’s eyes began to twinkle and he started making + jokes, so much so that aunt had every moment to stop eating for laughing; + then her broad head would fall backwards and her cheeks, which bloomed + like ripe peaches, creased up and displayed two rows of gleaming ivory + teeth. It all turned to a noisy giggling; and the general merriment could + be heard far away in the other houses. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Petrus enjoyed teasing his sister and made her cry out each time he + declared that, for all her waiting at table and running about, she had + eaten more than he and Brother Ivo put together and that it was no wonder + she had grown such a body and bred such fine youngsters. The mighty din + woke the baby and started it crying loudly in its cradle. Fonske took it + out and put it in mother’s lap. It was as fresh and pink as a rose-bud; it + kicked its little legs about and shoved its fists into its eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, darling, you’re hungry too, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + And she unbuttoned her jacket and from behind her shift produced her great + right breast. The baby stuck its hands into that wealth of whiteness, + seized the proffered nipple in its mouth and started greedily sucking. + After the first eager gulps it gradually quieted, closed its eyes and lay + softly drinking, rocked on mother’s heaving lap. Isidoorke kept looking at + this as at something very strange that alarmed him. Horieneke, noticing + it, held up a rabbit-leg to him and told him of those pretty white rabbits + which she had seen slaughtered yesterday. The other youngsters had now + eaten their fill and began to feel terribly bored at table. Bertje gave + Fonske a kick on the shin and they went outside together, whispering like + boys with some roguery in view. Wartje, Dolfke and the others followed + them outside. When it was all well planned, they beckoned behind the door + to Doorke; and, when the little man came out at last: + </p> + <p> + “Is it true, Doorke? Do you dare go among the dogs?” + </p> + <p> + And they led him on gently by his velvet jacket, behind the house to the + bake-house, where the dogs lay blinking in the shade, with their heads + stretched on their paws. + </p> + <p> + Doorke nodded; and, to show how well-behaved they were, he went close up + to them and stroked their backs. + </p> + <p> + “And is it also true,” asked Bertje, with mischievous innocence, “that you + know how to harness them?” + </p> + <p> + Doorke looked surprised and again nodded yes. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s see if you dare!” + </p> + <p> + “Hoo, hoo, Baron!” said Doorke. + </p> + <p> + And he took the dog by the collar, put the girths on him and fastened the + traces while Fonske held up the cart. + </p> + <p> + “And that other one too?” + </p> + <p> + Doorke did the same with the other dog and with the third; and they were + now all three harnessed. Bertje took the cart by the shafts and drew it + very softly, without a sound, under the windows and through the little + gate into the road. The other boys bit their fingers, held their breaths + and followed on tip-toe. Then they all crept into the cart; and, when they + were comfortably seated, Bertje took the reins and: + </p> + <p> + “Gee up!” + </p> + <p> + Wartje struck the dogs with the handle of the whip and they leapt forward + lustily and the cart rolled along through the clouds of dust rising from + the sandy road. + </p> + <p> + Horieneke had come up too and watched this silent sport; and she now stood + alone with Doorke, looking along the trees, where the cart was + disappearing towards the edge of the wood. When there was nothing more to + see, they both went indoors. + </p> + <p> + Uncle and aunt and father were now talking quietly and earnestly, over + three cups of coffee. Mother still sat with the baby on her lap, where it + had fallen asleep while sucking. Aunt was constantly wiping the glistening + perspiration from her forehead; and she unbuttoned her silk dress because + she had eaten too much and her heart was beginning to swell. + </p> + <p> + “Shouldn’t we be better out of doors?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Mother tucked in her breast, buttoned her jacket and laid the child + carefully in the cradle, near Trientje, who sat sleeping in her little + baby-chair. They left everything as it was: table and plates and pots and + glasses. Father and uncle filled their pipes and went outside under the + elder-tree, in the shade. The wives tucked their clothes between their + legs and lay down in the grass. Aunt had carefully rolled up her silk + skirt and was in her white petticoat. + </p> + <p> + They now went on talking: an incessant tattle about getting children and + bringing them up, about housekeeping and about land and sand and parish + news, until, overcome by the heat and the weight of their bodies, they let + their heads fall and closed their eyes and seemed to sleep. Uncle and + father stood looking at them a little longer and then, in their white + shirt-sleeves, with their thumbs in their tight trouser-bands, went up the + narrow little path, in the blazing sun, to look at the wheat and the flax, + which were already high. + </p> + <p> + Horieneke and Doorke were now left looking at each other. Horieneke began + to tire of this; and she took the boy by the hand and led him into the + house and up to her room. There she showed him her holy pictures on the + wall and her little statues; they sat down side by side on the bed; and + Horieneke told him the whole of her life and the doings of the last few + days, all that she had longed for and to-day’s happiness. The boy listened + to her gladly; he looked at her with his big, brown eyes and sat still + closer to her on the bed. He had now to see her pretty clothes; and they + went together to the best bedroom where the veil lay and the wreath and + her prayer-book and earrings. She must next really show him what she had + looked like that morning in church; and he helped her put on the veil, + placed the wreath on her curls and then took a few steps backwards to see. + He thought her very pretty; and they smiled happily. Then everything was + taken off again; and they went hand in hand, like a brother and sister who + had not seen each other for some time, to walk in the little + flower-garden. Here they looked at every leaf and named every flower that + was about to open. When everything had been thoroughly inspected, they sat + and chatted in the box arbour, very seriously, like grown-up people. Then + they also became tired and Horieneke put her arm over Doorke’s shoulder, + allowed her golden curls to play in his eyes and in this way they walked + out, down the road, towards the wood. Here they were all alone with the + birds twittering in the trees and the crickets chirping in the grass + beside the ditch. + </p> + <p> + Everywhere, as far as they could see, was corn and green fields and + sunshine and stillness. They strolled down the long, cheerful road. Doorke + held his arm round Horieneke’s tight-laced little waist and listened to + all the new things which his cousin described so prettily; and she too + felt a great delight in having this boy, with his brown eyes and his lean + shoulder-blades, beside her, listening to her and looking at her and + understanding her ever so much better than her rough little brothers did. + She would have liked to walk on all her life like this, in that golden + sunshine, telling him how she had read that beautiful prayer in church + this morning ... and about the priest’s sermon ... and those pretty angels + with their gold wings, who had walked up and down so calmly and placidly; + about her dread during the communion-mass and her fear and sorrow because + Our Lord had not spoken in her little heart. And so, talking and + listening, they came to the wood. It looked so pleasant under those + pollard alders in the shade and farther on in the dark, among the spruces, + where the light filtered through in meagre rays, after that long walk in + the blinding sun. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s go in!” said Doorke and was on the point of going down the little + path that ran beside the ditch, in among the trees. + </p> + <p> + “We mustn’t!” said Horieneke; and she clutched him by the arm. + </p> + <p> + Her face grew very serious and she wrinkled her forehead: + </p> + <p> + “Look there!” + </p> + <p> + And she pointed through a gap between the trees down to the valley where, + above the tall trunks, they could see the whole expanse of a big + homestead, with the long thatched roofs of stable and barn and the tiles + and slates of the house and turrets. She put her mouth to his ear and + whispered: + </p> + <p> + “That’s where the rent-farmer lives ... and he’s a bad, bad man. He does + wicked things to the little girls who go into the wood; and mother says + that then they fall ill and die and then they go to Hell!” + </p> + <p> + Doorke did not understand very well, but he saw from Horieneke’s wide-open + eyes that it was serious. They sat down together on the edge of the ditch, + with their legs in the grass, played with the daisies and listened to the + thrushes gurgling deep down in the wood. They sat there for a long time. + The sun sank to the top of the oak; the sky was flecked with white clouds + which shot through the heavens in long diverging shafts, like a huge + peacock’s tail upon an orange field. + </p> + <p> + The children mused: + </p> + <p> + “I should like to fall down dead, here and now,” said Horieneke. + </p> + <p> + Doorke looked up in surprise: + </p> + <p> + “Why, Horieneke?” + </p> + <p> + “Then I should be in Heaven at once.” + </p> + <p> + They again sat thinking a little: + </p> + <p> + “Playing with the angels!... Have you ever seen angels, Doorke?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in the procession, Horieneke.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but I mean live ones! I saw some last night, live ones; and they were + in white, Doorke, with long trains and golden hair and diamond crowns, and + they were singing in a beautiful garden!...” + </p> + <p> + With raised eyebrows and earnest gestures of her little forefinger, she + told him all her dream of the angels and the swings and the singing and + the music ... and of father with his sickle. + </p> + <p> + Doorke hung upon her words. + </p> + <p> + The thrush started anew and they sat listening. + </p> + <p> + “What will you do when you grow up, Doorke?” + </p> + <p> + And she put her arm round the boy’s neck again and looked fondly into his + eyes: + </p> + <p> + “Will you get married, Doorke?” + </p> + <p> + Doorke shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Not even to me?” + </p> + <p> + And she looked at him with such a roguish smile that the boy felt ashamed. + Then, to comfort him, she said: + </p> + <p> + “Nor I either, Doorke. Do you know what I’m going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Horieneke.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Doorke, I’ll tell you all about it, but promise on your soul not + to tell anybody: Bertje, Fonske and all the rest mustn’t know.” + </p> + <p> + Doorke nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Father wanted me to go into service down there, with all those wicked + people. Then I cried for days and days and prayed to Our Lord; and mother + told father that I was dying; and then she said that I might ... Try and + guess, Doorke!” + </p> + <p> + Doorke made no attempt to guess. Then she drew him closer to her and + whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Mother said I might stay at home and help her ... and afterwards, when I + am grown up ... I shall become a nun, Doorke, in a convent; but first + mother must get another baby, a new Horieneke.... And you?” + </p> + <p> + The boy didn’t know. + </p> + <p> + “And you, Doorke, must learn to be a priest; then you and I will both go + to Heaven.” + </p> + <p> + Behind them, on the road, came a noise and a rush and an outcry so great + that the children started up in fright. Look! It was Bertje and all the + little brothers in the dog-cart, which was coming back home through the + sand. When they saw cousin and Horieneke, they raised a mighty shout of + joy and stopped. Bertje stood erect and issued his commands: all the boys + must get out; he would remain sitting on the front seat, with Horieneke + and Doorke side by side behind him, between two leafy branches, like a + bride and bridegroom! Fonske cut two branches from an alder-tree and + fastened them to either side of the cart. Then they set out, amid the + shouting and cheering of the boys running in front and behind: + </p> + <p> + “Ready?” + </p> + <p> + “Ye-e-es!” + </p> + <p> + The dogs gave an angry jerk forward and the cart went terribly fast and + Doorke clutched Horieneke with one hand and with the other warded off the + hanging willow-twigs that lashed their faces. + </p> + <p> + The sun had gone down and a red light was glowing in the west, high up in + the tender blue. The air had turned cooler and a cold, clammy damp was + falling over the fields, which now lay steaming deadly still in the rising + mist that already shrouded the trees in blue and darkened the distances. + </p> + <p> + At the turn of the road, the children stepped out of the cart and put it + away carefully behind the bake-house, tied up the panting dogs and + sauntered into the house. + </p> + <p> + “Father, we’ve been out with cousin,” said Bertje. + </p> + <p> + They had to take their coffee and their cakebread-and-butter in a hurry: + it was time to put the dogs in, said uncle. + </p> + <p> + Doorke said they were put in. + </p> + <p> + Frazie helped her sister on with her things: + </p> + <p> + “You’ll find the looking-glass hanging in the window, Stanse. I must go + and put on another skirt too and come a bit of the way with you.” + </p> + <p> + The boys were to stay at home; they got the rest of the sweets and were + ordered to bed at once. Horieneke was told to take off her best clothes; + it was evening and the goats had still to be fed. She went to her little + room reluctantly and could have cried because it was all over now and + because it was so melancholy in the dark. She felt ashamed when she came + down again and glanced askance at Doorke, who would think her so plain in + her week-day clothes. The boy looked at her and said nothing; then he + jumped into the cart and drove off slowly. Mother with Stanse and father + with uncle came walking behind. + </p> + <p> + It was still light; the evening was falling slowly, slowly, as though the + daylight would never end. In the west the sky was hung with white and gold + tapestry against an orange background. On the other side, the moon, very + wan still, floated in the pale-blue all around it. Beside the bluey trees + long purple stripes of shadow now lay, with fallen clusters of branches, + on the plain. You could hardly tell if day or night were at hand. + </p> + <p> + Uncle and aunt were extremely pleased with their visit; uncle looked + contentedly into the distance and boasted that he had never seen such an + evening nor such fine weather so early in the year, while Frazie at each + step flung her arms into the air and stopped to say things to Stanse, + whose good-natured laugh rang out over the plain and along the road. In + front of them, Doorke, like a little black shadow, danced up and down in + his cart to the jolting of the wheels as he jogged quietly along. The + crickets chirped in the ditch; and from high up in the trees came the + dying twitter of birds about to go to sleep. + </p> + <p> + Father wanted to drink a parting glass of beer in the Swan; Doorke could + drive along slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Just five minutes then,” said Petrus. + </p> + <p> + There were many people in the inn and much loud merriment. The new + arrivals were soon sitting among the others, staying on and listening to + all the jolly songs; and, when this had gone on for some time, they forgot + the hour and the parting. Aunt Stanse held her stomach with laughing; she + was not behindhand when the glasses had to be emptied or when her turn + came to sing a song. Amid the turmoil, the rent-farmer came up to Frazie, + took her impudently by the arm, laughingly wished her <i>proficiat</i> + with her pretty daughter and, after slyly looking about him for + confirmation, said, half in earnest: + </p> + <p> + “We’re planting potatoes to-morrow at the Rent Farm, we shall want lots of + hands; missie may as well come too.” + </p> + <p> + And with that he went back to his game of cards. + </p> + <p> + This time, the leave-taking was genuine. Petrus got up; and it was + good-bye till next year, when Doorke would make his first communion. + </p> + <p> + The cart was waiting outside the door; they stepped in, uncle took the + reins. + </p> + <p> + “A safe ride home!” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks for the pleasant visit! And to our next merry meeting!” + </p> + <p> + “God speed!... Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + “Gee up!” + </p> + <p> + The dogs sprang forward, the cart rumbled along and soon the whole thing + had become a shapeless black patch among the black trees. In the still + night they could just hear the wheels rattling over the cobbles; and then + Ivo and Frazie went home again. + </p> + <p> + A breeze came playing through the garden, sighing now and again with a + sound as soft as silk; the moon shone upon the dark trees and its light + played like golden snow-flakes dancing and fluttering down upon the + gleaming crests of the green bushes and the milk-white plain. The air was + heavy and stifling, full of warm damp; and strong-scented gusts of fresh, + rain-laden perfumes blew across the road. + </p> + <p> + They stepped hurriedly on the legs of their long shadows and did not + speak. There came a new rustling in the trees and a few big, cool drops of + rain pattered on the sand, one here, one there and gradually quicker. + </p> + <p> + Ivo and Frazie hastened their pace; but, when the great drops began to + fall on them thick as hail and around them in the sand, till the rain + streaked through the air and rattled tremendously over their heads, mother + held her body with both hands to prevent its shaking, Ivo tied his red + handkerchief over his silk cap and they started running. + </p> + <p> + “It was main hot for the time of year.” + </p> + <p> + “And the flowers smelt too strong and the thrush sang so loud.” + </p> + <p> + It went on raining: a wholesome, cleansing downpour, a slow descent in + slanting lines that glittered in the moonlight, bringing health to the + earth. The air was fragrant with the wet grass and the white flowers: it + was like a rich garden. At home, everything was put away, the table + cleared and wiped; the lamp was alight and all the doors open. The boys + were in bed. Horieneke had read evening prayers to them and then hurried + to her little room, to be alone; and there she had lain thinking of all + that had happened during that long day: her jaws ached from the constant + smiling; and she felt dead-tired and sad. + </p> + <p> + Father took off his wet blouse and mother stirred up the fire: they would + have one more cup of coffee, with a drop of something, and then go to bed. + Ivo lit his pipe and stretched out his legs to dry beside the stove. + </p> + <p> + They drank their coffee and listened to the steady breathing of the boys + and the dripping of the gutters on the cobbles outside. Father made a + remark or two about uncle and aunt and about their village, but got only + half-answers from his wife. Then, all of a sudden, he asked: + </p> + <p> + “What did the farmer come and say to you?” + </p> + <p> + Frazie sighed: + </p> + <p> + “They’re planting potatoes to-morrow and we were to go and work; and + Horieneke was to come too.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay.” + </p> + <p> + “But she’ll stay here!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, stay here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she’s got her work to do at home.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; but if she has to go?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t care.” + </p> + <p> + And mother stood with her arms akimbo, looking at her husband, waiting for + his answer. + </p> + <p> + “And if he turns us out and leaves us without work!” + </p> + <p> + “And suppose our child comes home with a present ... from that beast of a + farmer!” + </p> + <p> + Ivo knocked out his pipe: + </p> + <p> + “Pooh, that could happen to her anywhere; and, after all, she won’t be + tied to her mother’s apron-strings all her life long!... When you live in + a man’s house and eat his bread, you’ve got to work for it and do his + will: the master is the master. Come, let’s go to bed; we’ve a lot to do + tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + Suppressed sobs came from the little bedroom. Mother looked in. Horieneke + lay with her hands before her eyes, crying convulsively. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what’s the matter?” + </p> + <p> + The child pressed her head to the wall and wept harder than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, wife, damn it! It’s time that all this foolery was over, or + she’ll lose her senses altogether.” + </p> + <p> + Mother grew impatient, bit her teeth: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you blessed cry-baby!” + </p> + <p> + And angrily she thumped the child on the hip with her clenched fist and + left her lying there. + </p> + <p> + “A nice thing, getting children: one’d rather bring up puppies any day!” + </p> + <p> + She turned out the light and it was now dark and still; outside, the thin + rain dripped and the white blossoms blew from the trees and the whole air + smelt wonderfully good. In the distance, the nightingale hidden in the + wood jugged and gurgled without stopping; and it was like the pealing of a + church-organ all night long. + </p> + <p> + The weather had broken up and the day dawned with a melancholy drizzle and + a cold wind. The sky remained grey, discharging misty raindrops which + soaked into everything and hung trembling like strung pearls on the leaves + of the beech-hedge and on the grass and on the cornstalks in the fields. + It was suddenly winter again. On the hilly field the people stood black, + wrapped up, with their caps drawn over their ears and their red + handkerchiefs round their necks. The hoes went up in the air one after the + other and struck the moist earth, which opened into straight furrows from + one end to the other of the field. Here wives walked barefoot, bent, with + baskets on their arm from which they kept taking potatoes and laying them, + at a foot’s distance, in the open trench. In a corner of the field stood + the farmer, his big body leaning on a stick; and his dark eyes watched his + labourers. + </p> + <p> + There, in the midst of them, was Horieneke, bent also like the others, in + her coarse workaday clothes, with a basket of seed-potatoes on her arm; + and her red-gold curls now hung, like long corkscrews, wet against her + face; and every now and then she would draw herself up, tossing her head + back to keep them out of her eyes. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. IN THE SQUALL + </h2> + <p> + At noon, under the blazing sun, all three started for the wood, after + blackberries. + </p> + <p> + Trientje was in her cotton pinafore, with a straw hat on her head and a + wicker basket on her arm. Lowietje stood in his worn breeches and his torn + shirt; in his pocket he had a new climbing-cord. Each dragged Poentje by + one hand, Poentje who still went about in his little shirt and, with his + wide-straddling little bare legs, trotted on between brother and sister. + </p> + <p> + They went along narrow, winding foot-paths, between the cornfields, high + as a man, through the flax-meadows and the yellow blinking mustard-flower. + The sun bit into Lowietje’s bare head and sent the sweat trickling down + his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + They went always on, with their eyes fixed upon that thick crowd of blue + trees full of blithe green and of dark depths behind the farthermost + trunks. + </p> + <p> + Poentje became tired and let himself be dragged along by his hands. When + he began to cry, they sat down in the ditch beside the corn to rest. + Trientje opened her basket and they ate up all their bread-and-butter. + Near them, in the grass, ants crept in and out of a little hole. Lowietje + poked with a stick and the whole nest came crawling out. The children sat + looking to see all those beasties swarm about and run away with their + eggs. + </p> + <p> + All three stood up and went past the old mill, then through the meadow and + so, at last, they came to the wood and into the cool shade. On the banks + of the deep, hollowed path, it all stood thick as hail and black with the + brambleberries. Lowietje picked, never stopped picking, and put them one + by one in his mouth; and his nose and cheeks were smeared with red, like + blood. Trientje steadily picked her whole basket full and Poentje sat + playing on the way-side grass with a bunch of cornflowers. + </p> + <p> + In the wood, everything was still: the trees stood firmly in the blaze of + the sun and the young leaves hung gleaming, without stirring. A bird sat + very deep down whistling and its song rang out as in a great church. + Turtle-doves cooed far away. Round the children’s ears hummed big fat + bees, buzzing from flower to flower. When the bank was stripped, they went + deeper into the wood, Lowietje going ahead to show the way. They crept + through the trees where it twilighted and where the sun played so prettily + with little golden arrows in the leafage; from there they came into the + high pine-wood. Look, look! There were other boys ... and they knew where + birds lived! + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Trientje,” said Lowietje. “You stay here with Poentje: I’ll come + back at once and bring your pinafore full of birds’ eggs ... and young + ones.” + </p> + <p> + He fetched out his climbing-cord and, in a flash, all the boys were gone, + behind the trees. Trientje heard them shout and yell and, a little later, + she saw her little brother sitting high up on the slippery trunk of a + beech. She put her hands to her mouth and screamed: + </p> + <p> + “Lo—wie!...” + </p> + <p> + It echoed three or four times over the low shoots and against the tall + trees, but Lowietje did not hear. + </p> + <p> + A man now came striding down the path; he carried a gun on his shoulder. + The boys had only just seen him and, on every side, they came scrambling + out of the tree-tops, slid down the trunks and darted into the underwood. + Breathless, bewildered and scared to death, Lowietje came to his sister + and, with his two hands, held the rents of his trousers together: + </p> + <p> + “There were eight eggs there, Trientje, but the keeper came and, in the + sliding, my trousers....” + </p> + <p> + And he let a strip fall. They were torn from end to end, from top to + bottom, in each leg. + </p> + <p> + “Mother will be angry,” said Trientje, very earnestly. + </p> + <p> + She took some pins from her frock and fastened the tears, so that the skin + did not show. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly fell a rumbling thunder-clap that droned through all the wood and + died away in a long chain of rough sounds. The children looked at one + another and then at the trees and the sky. All stood black now, the sun + was gone and a warm wind came working through the boughs, by gusts. It + grew dark as night and at times most terribly silent. + </p> + <p> + And now—they all crossed themselves—a ball of fire flew + through the sky and it cracked and broke and it tore all that was in the + wood. The wind came up, the branches rocked and writhed and the leaves + fluttered and tugged and heavy drops beat into the sand. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, quick!” said Trientje. “It’s going to lighten!” + </p> + <p> + Lowietje said nothing and Poentje cried. Each took the child by one hand + and they ran as fast as they could to get from under the trees. + </p> + <p> + “Ooh! Ooh!” + </p> + <p> + They dashed their hands before their eyes and stood still: a golden snake + twisted round a tree and all the wood was bright with fire and there came + a droning and a rumbling and a banging as of stones together and a hundred + thousand branches burst asunder. Shivering, not daring to look up, they + crossed themselves again and all three crept under the branches, deep down + in a ditch. Trientje tied her pinafore over the little one’s face and they + sat there huddled together, shuddering and peeping through their fingers + and saying loud Our Fathers. + </p> + <p> + “You must not look, Lowietje: the lightning would strike you blind.” + </p> + <p> + The trees wrung their heavy boughs and everything squeaked and rustled + terribly. The water rained and poured from the leafy vault on Trientje’s + straw hat, on Lowietje’s bare head and right through his little torn + shirt. And clap and clap of thunder fell; the sky opened and belched fire + like a hot oven. The children sat nestling into each other’s arms—Poentje + down under the other two—and only when it had kept still for long + did they all, trembling and terrified, dare to put out their heads. + </p> + <p> + “I wish we were home now!” sighed Lowietje. + </p> + <p> + Once more the sky was all on fire and rumbling and breaking and crackling + till the earth quaked and shook. + </p> + <p> + “O God, O God, help us get out of the wood and home to mother!” whined + Trientje. + </p> + <p> + When they opened their eyes again, they saw below them, in the bottom, a + huge beech with a bough struck off and the white splinters bare, with + leaves awkwardly twisted right round: it stood there like a fellow with + one arm off. + </p> + <p> + The rain now fell steadily in straight stripes; the noise grew fainter and + the sky broke open. + </p> + <p> + Soaked through with the wet, the children came creeping out of the ditch + and now, holding their breaths, stood looking at that tree which was so + awesomely cleft and at that crippled bough which hung swinging over space. + The thunder still rumbled, but it was very far away, like heavy waggons + rattling over hard stones. Lowietje caught his little brother up on his + back and they made straight for the opening of the drove, where they saw a + clear sky. They must get out of the wood, away from those trees where such + fearful things happened and where it cracked so and where it was so dark. + </p> + <p> + Outside, the heaven hung full of gold-edged clouds and the sun drove its + bright darts through the sky. The rain fell in lovely gleaming drops and + all looked so new, so fresh and so strangely glad as after a fit of + weeping, when the glistening tears hang in laughing eyes. ‘Twas all so + peaceful here and ‘twas far behind them that the trees were twisted and + bent. Here and there flew birds; and the cuckoo sat calling in a + cornfield. Lowietje’s shirt was glued to his skin; his trousers hung + heavily from his limbs and his hair fell in dripping tresses, sticking + along his cheeks. The white spots on Trientje’s pinafore were run through + with the black; and wet cornstalks whipped her little thin skirt. Poentje + splashed with his naked little feet in the puddles and asked for mother. + </p> + <p> + “We’re almost home, child,” said Trientje, to soothe him. + </p> + <p> + They went through the wet grass and fragrant cornfields along the slippery + footpaths to a big road. + </p> + <p> + Look, there, behind the turning, came mother: she had a sack-cloth over + her head and two umbrellas under her arm; she looked angry and ugly. + </p> + <p> + “We shall get a beating,” sighed Lowietje. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. A PIPE OR NO PIPE + </h2> + <p> + He dropped his wheel-barrow, strode from between the shafts and went and + looked into the great window of the tobacco-shop. His eyes were all full, + as far as they could carry: an abundance and a splendour to dream about. + He came a step nearer and rested his two elbows on the stone window-sill, + to see more comfortably. + </p> + <p> + Two stacks of motley cigar-boxes stood on either side and ran together at + the top into a rounded arch, from which hung long, long pipes, + cinnamon-wood pipes, as thick as your arm, with green strings to them and + huge, big bowls, artfully carved into the heads of the King, of hideous + niggers, or of pretty girls with beads for eyes. + </p> + <p> + On thick, transparent glass slips lay whole files of meerschaum pipes, + furnished with clear curved-amber mouthpieces: fishes’ heads, + lobster-claws holding an eggshell, horses’ heads, cows’ hoofs; rich + cigar-holders of meerschaum, all over silver stars and gold bands. Heaps + and heaps and lots and lots of every kind, as far as he could see; and all + this was multiplied in two enormous mirrors, in which, yonder, far back + among all this smoking-gear, he saw his own face staring at him out of his + great, astonished eyes. + </p> + <p> + He sighed. It was all so beautiful, so rich! And now if mother had only + got work! + </p> + <p> + He went over it once more. Down below, in little plush-lined trays, lay + the small pipes, the boys’ stuff. They lay scattered higgledy-piggledy, + whole handfuls of them, crooked and straight, brown and black. His eyes + thieved round voluptuously in those trays and they read with eager + curiosity the neatly-written figures which informed the world how much + each pipe cost. + </p> + <p> + Here, they were crooked, comical little things of black cocus-wood; there, + they were motley, speckled round bowls, like birds’ eggs, with white + stems; but they cost too much. And yet they were so charitably beautiful! + Now his eyes remained hankering after a splendid varnished bowl. It was + almost tucked out of sight, but it glittered so temptingly and had a + lovely brown ring at the edge, shading downwards to a pale gold-yellow: + there was a little cup for the oil to sweat into and a fat cinnamon stem, + with a horn mouthpiece. He examined it on every side and would have liked + to turn it over with his eyes. Inside the bowl stood, in black figures: + </p> + <p> + “1 <i>fr</i>. 50.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother!...” + </p> + <p> + That was the one he wanted, that was his. She had promised him a pipe if + she got work to-day. If only she had brought work with her! + </p> + <p> + After one last look and one more ... he went on. + </p> + <p> + He caught up his barrow and pushed it, over the wide road, straight to the + station. + </p> + <p> + There he had to wait. + </p> + <p> + He loitered round the dreary, deserted yard. The noon sun bit the naked + stones; and everything, hiding and shrinking from that glowing sun-fire, + seemed dead. The drivers sat slumbering on the boxes of their cabs; the + horses stood on three legs, their heads down, crookedwise between the + shafts, and now and then they gave a short stamp, to keep off the flies, + which were terribly active. A group of loafers lay sleeping on their + stomachs in the shade. A slow-moving vehicle drove past and disappeared + round the corner. A dog came stepping up lazily and went and lay under the + sunflowers near the signal-box, blinking his eyes. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing more that moved. + </p> + <p> + At last the train came gliding in very gently, without noise, and it sent + a gulp or two of white smoke into the quivering blue sky. + </p> + <p> + Now the boy stood stretching his neck through the railings, on the + look-out for his mother, whom he already saw in his thoughts, coming bent, + with a heavily-laden bag of weaving-stuff; and the pipe was in his pocket + ... or else nothing, nothing at all! + </p> + <p> + ‘Twas a fat gentleman that got out first; then a tall, thin one; then a + woman; then another woman; always others; and now, now it was mother. She + stuck out her thin leg, groping from the high foot-board to find the + ground, and ... she had an empty blue-and-white canvas bag on her + shoulder. His lower lip dropped sadly and he turned slowly to his barrow: + </p> + <p> + “No work yet. God better it!” + </p> + <p> + The mother threw her bag on the wheel-barrow and they went on, without + speaking. + </p> + <p> + Straight opposite the tobacco-shop, the boy gave a sidelong glance at the + great window, with all those rich things displayed behind it, and he + whistled a little tune. + </p> + <p> + They had still far, very far to go, before they two were at home, in their + village. And the sun was burning. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. ON SUNDAYS + </h2> + <p> + In his Sunday best! A red-and-yellow flowered scarf was tied round his + sun-burnt neck and the two ends blew over his shoulders; a small + brown-felt hat with a curly brim was drawn down upon his head and, from + under it, came here and there a wisp of flaxen hair. He wore a small, open + jacket, with a short waistcoat, from under which a clean blue shirt bulged + out; and his long, much too long trousers fell in wide folds over his big + cossack shoes.<a href="#linknote-9" name="linknoteref-9" id="linknoteref-9"><small>9</small></a> + Under his arm he carried a bundle knotted into a red handkerchief, while + with the other hand he twirled a switch. + </p> + <p> + He was a growing youngster, a well-set-up cowherd, with a brown, freckled + face, small, pale-grey eyes, under milk-white eyebrows, and bony knees and + elbows: a sturdy fellow in the making. + </p> + <p> + ‘Twas heavenly, grand Sunday weather: it shone with light and life and it + was all green, pale, splendid green, against a clear blue sky in the + middle of the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + He stepped on bravely, along the wide drove of elms, twisting his switch, + and looked into the free sky with his young, grey-blue eyes. He thought + ... of what? Of nothing! Truly, of nothing: what does a cowherd think of? + Wait a bit, though; he was thinking: ‘twas Sunday! It was Sunday once + more, the glad Sunday! And there were so few Sundays in those long, long + weeks. And he was going home for a few hours: yes, home; and from there to + Stafke’s and to Stafke’s pigeons. + </p> + <p> + He was hard-worked at the farm: twenty-nine cow-beasts, which were always + hungry and always wanted fattening; furthermore, a whole herd of calves + and hogs: ‘twas a drudging without end or bottom, from early morning to + late at night, until his limbs hung lame. + </p> + <p> + The farmer was good but strict and could not abide sluggards; he looked + for work, hard work; and this the lad was glad to give, but only while + looking forward to the everlasting Sunday, in which lay all his happiness + and cheer. + </p> + <p> + He quickened his steps; and the elms pushed by, one by one, and at last, + ahead, very far down that dark hedge of stems and leafage, came a tiny + opening where the trees seemed to touch one another. + </p> + <p> + Look! There, beside the little village church, stood Farmer Willems’ + homestead, with its little slate turret and the great poplars and, beside + it, close together and quite hidden in the green, two little cottages. + ‘Twas there that he was brought up and had grown up; there, in one of + those cottages. In the other lived Stafke’s father and mother. The + children had led the half-wild life of the country there: two little boys + together. They had clambered up those mighty trees, weltered in the sand + of the drove and coursed like foals in the meadow. The farm was a free + domain to them; they were at home in it; they went daily to the little + door of the wash-house to fetch their slice of rye-bread-and-butter and, + in the morning, an apple or a pear. They had lain and rolled in the + hay-loft, like fish in the water; but all that had passed so quickly, so + very quickly. The parish-priest came; and, for six months, six long + months, they had had to go to school and church. Then, on a certain Monday + morning, father said: + </p> + <p> + “Lad, you’re coming along to the farm to-day, to bind corn.” + </p> + <p> + Play was over, the free play of the country! They were pressed into + labour, were saddled with the labourer’s heavy burden. Since then, it had + been an endless roving after work, from one farm to another, with his + bundle under his arm. + </p> + <p> + Stafke had remained serving at Willems’, with father, and he, on Sunday + afternoons, had not so far to go, under the burning sun, in order to get + home. + </p> + <p> + The way was long for an unthinking lad; and they seemed endless, those + never-changing rows of tree-trunks, those uncounted yellow, blinking + cornfields ... and never a creature on the road. It was something very + much out of the way when a pigeon flew through the azure sky; the lad + stood still and, turning round, followed the great ring which it made + until it dropped far away, yonder among the houses of the village. Then he + went on, pondering, as he went, that there was nothing, absolutely nothing + lovelier than a milk-white pigeon in a pale-blue sky; and he whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it’s Stafke’s pigeon.” + </p> + <p> + On reaching home, he laid down his bundle; his baby sister came running up + to him, with her little arms wide open, and held him by his legs; and he + lifted her twice, three times above his head. He handed mother his + earnings; and then, out of the door, to Stafke’s! + </p> + <p> + “Roz’lie, is he in?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, he’s up in the loft, with the pigeons.” + </p> + <p> + He climbed up the ladder, in three steps and as carefully as he could, to + the dovecote. Behind a swarm of half-stretched and loose-hanging clouts + and canvas things, a lad sat on an overturned tub, his fair-haired curly + head in his hands, his elbows on his knees, peering through a sort of + lattice-work. Jaak sat down at the other side, on a bundle of maize, in + just the same attitude, and looked too.... + </p> + <p> + There were white, snow-white, mottled, blue, slate-blue, russet, speckled, + grey, black-flecked, striped and spotted pigeons, doves, pouters—some + cocks, the rest hens—a motley crowd all mixed up together. There + were some that sat murmuring one to the other, softly—oh, so softly—and + nodding their heads for sheer kindliness. Others cooed loudly, angrily or + indifferently and tripped round one another. Others sat huddled, + meditating, lonely and forlorn, blinking their bright little glittering + eyes. + </p> + <p> + Through the holes, from the resting-board, new ones came walking in with + shy feet and sought a little place for themselves; others passed out + through the narrow opening and, flapping their wings, rose into the sky. + ‘Twas a humming and muttering without end, a murmuring and whispering loud + and soft and a restless stir and movement: a little world full of + neatly-dressed damsels, who were all so lightly, so prettily decked out + and who knew how to manage their trains and their fine clothes so demurely + and so comically. They carefully combed and cleaned their black velvet + ruffs, smoothed their sharp-striped feathers one by one, fondled and + rubbed their downy breasts till they shone like new-blown roses.... + </p> + <p> + And Jaak and Stafke sat watching this, sat watching this, like two steel + statues, sweating in that warm loft. They did not stir nor speak a single + word. + </p> + <p> + And that lasted and went on.... + </p> + <p> + It grew dusk. From every side the pigeons came flying in, whole troops of + them, and sought their well-known roosts. They stood two and two, closely + crowded together on the perches or huddled in the holes. They drew their + heads into their feathered throats and slept. The rumour diminished to + just a soft mumbling; and then nothing more. The pigeon that sat over + there, squatting low on her eggs, faded from sight in her dark corner; and + the whole upper row vanished in the dusk of the rafters. + </p> + <p> + The boys still sat on. + </p> + <p> + The dovecote became a pale-grey twilight thing, with drab and black + patches here and there. The soft humming passed into a faint buzz that + died away quite; and all was silence. + </p> + <p> + They both together stood up straight, gave a long-drawn sigh and went + below. + </p> + <p> + “It’s getting dark,” said Jaak, wiping the sweat from his face. “The cows + will be waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Stafke. “It gets evening all at once. Well, Jaak, till + Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + And Jaak went away, through the now moonlit drove, with a new bundle under + his arm and thinking of the farm, of his twenty-nine cow-beasts and of + Sunday and of Stafke’s pigeons.... + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>Il y a des malheurs qui arrivent + d’un pas si lent et si sûr qu’ils + paraissent faire partie de la vie + journalière.</i> +</pre> + <h3> + MONTALEMBERT. + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. AN ACCIDENT + </h2> + <p> + He had been half awake several times already, but each time he had slipped + back into an uneasy doze, a restless, wearisome sojourn in a strange, + drowsy world, in which he struggled with stupid, silly dream-spectres, all + jumbled together in a huddled mass of incoherent, impossible thoughts and + actions; a blank world in which all his workaday doings were forgotten; an + after-life of tiring sleep following on the carouse of yesterday. He lay + half-suffocated in the stifling heat of that tiled garret, lay tossing on + a straw mattress. And suddenly, with a jolt that jerked him sleeping like + a beast of burden. And now why couldn’t he take life as it came, like his + mates, who just went through it anyhow, without any calculating, callously + and cheerfully, something like a machine which, when the sun comes out and + it is daylight, begins to move arms and legs, to twist and turn the whole + day long and, when it is evening again and dark, falls down and remains + lying dead, for a few hours, with all the other things? + </p> + <p> + He drew himself up, thrust his thin legs into his trousers, his arms into + a dirty jacket and let his weary limbs carry him below. His mother had + buttoned up the linen satchel with his two slices of bread-and-butter and + had ladled out his porridge. He went out followed by a “God guard you, + lad!” and the little woman looked after her boy till he had vanished out + of the alley. She was so fond of him, he knew it; yes, he knew all about + that tender love, which he so often rejected in a moment of churlish + impatience; but still he was sorry afterwards, even though he never showed + it. That prim, old-fashioned little woman, with her cramped ways, was his + mother; his father had been a drunkard and had been killed at his work: + that was his parentage; it was their fault that he led this + poverty-stricken existence. + </p> + <p> + He walked on, without looking up at all the swarming life around him, went + step by step over the slippery cobbles, straight to his work. His work: + why must he work, always that everlasting toiling, while others lived and + enjoyed their lives without doing anything? He too had once thought—but + it was only a dream—of becoming something; he had felt something + stirring just there, inside him, and that seed would have sprouted and + blossomed if they had only tended it; but they had ruthlessly repelled + him, had refused to take him up with them on the heights; and he had + remained in the mud, alone, all alone. + </p> + <p> + There it rose before him: a mighty edifice in building, with behind it a + radiant summer sun that blazed forth high above the framework of the roof + in the morning sky and made that giant structure stand black in its own + shadow. + </p> + <p> + That was his work. All that mass of bricks he had seen grow into the + mighty whole; and there it stood now, a huge block, with heavy, massive + outlines, contained—held upright, it seemed—by a jumble of + dirty-white stakes and posts, crossed and criss-crossed with planks. Out + of a dirty hodge-podge of crazy houses, walls black with smoke, little + inner rooms which for the first time saw the white light of day, with + ragged strips of wall-paper and whitewash among rotten beams and rafters + straight and askew, all of which his stubborn labour had made to fall and + disappear, and out of those deep-dug foundations, out of that drudging in + the dirty ground, those stout walls had grown stone by stone, had risen + high into the sky—oh, the hard work of it!—and, tapering by + degrees, had shot up to form that mighty building. Wall by wall, wrought + at and toiled at, held together by pillars running beside narrow pointed + windows to those peaked gable-steps, running into a forest of masts, of + slanting beams that had to bear the roof, the whole of that sprawling + monster had gradually acquired a sense and a meaning and become the + splendid masterpiece that now stood there, solidly fixed against the blue + sky like a magic crystallized phrase. + </p> + <p> + That beginning all over again, day after day, at the same work; all that + busy stir of men and stones, now high in the air, now deep below; that + incessant climbing up and down those swaying ladders: all this had made + such a deep impression on him, had implanted itself into him so firmly + that at the first sight of it he felt smitten with impotence, with a + mechanical discouragement that gripped his whole being and made him work + throughout the day as though urged by an all-ruling deity set there in the + symbolic shape of that giant colossus at which he toiled. It seemed to him + that he was an indispensable little part of that great building, a small + moving thing with but a tiny atom of intelligence—sometimes—and + fatally dragged along in that whirling circle, under the behest of the + masters, who knew their way through every stroke and line of the great + plan, who had all that great work in their heads and on paper and who + possessed the power to bring all that complicated machine into operation. + And he just went to work like a dog, set going by the mournful knocking of + the stone-chopper, the shrill screech of the toothless iron marble-saw and + all the banging and knocking and hewing up yonder at the top of things. He + took his wooden hod, filled it with bricks and slowly climbed the ladder. + He was once more the dismal noodle of last week, the hypnotized + bag-o’-nerves that let himself be swept along in the whirlwind of habit + and vexation, dazed by that awful hugeness which he was helping to + complete and driven on by the ever-pursuing pair of eyes of his strict + foreman. And his head ached so; and he felt so sick; and his legs bent + under the load. + </p> + <p> + On he had to go and on. His head no longer took part in the work; his legs + kept on going up and down the rungs with those bricks, those everlasting + bricks: he did not know how many, just hauled them up, without stopping. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to him sometimes that the whole mass of walls and scaffolding, + labourers and foremen made but a single being: a sort of fearsome deity, + something like an unwieldy monster with inhuman, cruel feelings, something + which had to be fed with all that workmen’s sweat; and all this feverish + activity seemed to him the whirling along of a crowd of unfortunates who + had stepped into the fatal circle marked out for them, never to leave it + again. Everything seemed so unsteady to-day: those walls on which he had + to walk tottered; and he took such a pleasure in looking, in looking for a + long time down below, yonder where the men and women were like ants and + the great blocks of freestone became little bricks. It gave him such a + delicious wriggling in the bowels, a tickling in his blood; and he felt + his hair tingling on his head. Was not this the way to obtain release from + that hard labour, to get out of that brain-racking circle? + </p> + <p> + Then he held on to a post until he recovered his senses; and he went down + again for more bricks. It came from all that beer. + </p> + <p> + Yesterday had been a holiday. The wooden framework of the roof was + finished; and they had nailed the May-bough to the top, the joyous emblem + of difficulties vanquished. It showed up grandly there, with its bright + green leaves so high in the air. The masters had granted the men a day off + and given them plenty of beer. All that warm day they had made merry, + drinking and singing and loafing about the streets like happy savages. He + too had revelled with the rest, had been overcome by the drink and joined + in everything, from the horseplay in the open air to the bestial + amusements in those dark holes where the populace seeks its pleasure, that + stimulant for the work of the morrow. Then that brutal drunkenness had + come, with the loss of all his senses, till he found himself, dog-tired, + sick and feverish, up in his garret under the tiles. + </p> + <p> + To-day the work was twice as irksome. That rising warmth which, in the + morning, while it is still cool, forebodes the stifling, paralysing heat + of the scorching noon-day, tortured his throat and his bowels; he couldn’t + go on. + </p> + <p> + “Slacker!” was the first word flung at his head. He stood on the high + gable-steps and set down his load of bricks. That “Slacker!” played about + in his head like the smarting pain of a lash. He stood looking aimlessly + into space, indifferent to all that moved and lived around him. A shudder + ran through his body. The wall tottered ... and he was so high up, all + alone, seen by nobody: such a small creature in that blue sky, in that + endless space. In a clear vision he saw his own figure in all its lean + wretchedness, cut out like a paper silhouette, standing out sharply + against the sky, such a miserable little object: two thin legs, like + laths, a little stomach, two little sticks of arms and that small, + everyday, vulgar head. Was that he, that tiny atom of this mighty, + colossal building, that ant on the back of this behemoth ... which had + only to move to shake him off, ever so low down! + </p> + <p> + Ah, here’s that delicious wriggling in the bowels again! He has looked + down. Once more. That’s capital: something like a feeling of wanting to + jump down, such an airy, irresponsible joy, like flying in a dense, blue + sky, falling very gently and slowly—oh, what fun!—and then + being rid of all one’s troubles!... And yet there was a certain fear about + it. He mustn’t look any more. Or just this once ... that was grand! Once + more that awful depth, with all those tiny figures, yawned below him; and + it was the little wall that kept him up there so high, only that little + wall.... One movement, the least little yielding, the least bending over: + oh, what bliss ... and how frightful!... He became drunk with delight, + filled with the pleasure of it; he gasped, his eyes became unseeing; it + was like being wafted along, a gentle flight through the air and ... he + fell. + </p> + <p> + Bumping against a scaffold, clutching with hands and feet; a breaking + plank, a ghastly yell ... and then a body with arms and legs outspread in + space, a thunderbolt ... a thud as of a bag of earth ... and there he lay, + stretched at full length, like a man asleep. That scream of distress, that + terrible shriek, that farewell cry of one who is going away for good had + sent something like an electric shock through all around; work ceased and + they scrambled down and stood in a great circle around that body ... + looking. And a great silence followed, that silence which is so heavy and + oppressive after the sudden stop of so much activity. People came rushing + up, pushing to get closer ... and to see. They tore the poor devil’s + clothes open to find out where he was hurt, others ran for help, while + fresh swarms of folk came crowding up and the silence died in an uproar of + questions and tramping and the wailing of women. He lay there, with his + peaceful face turned to one side, lay on his back, seemingly uninjured; a + few drops of blood trickled from his mouth. His eyes were closed like + those of a man asleep. + </p> + <p> + “Such a height to fall!... So young, only a boy!” + </p> + <p> + Others stood chattering loudly, indifferently, as though about an everyday + occurrence, or looked up at the wall and showed one another from where he + had tumbled down. + </p> + <p> + There was a sudden movement in the crowd; people jostled one another. + </p> + <p> + “His mother’s coming!” somebody whispered. + </p> + <p> + They pressed closer and closer to watch the effect upon her, the women + with an anguished consciousness of what she must be suffering, that + mother-pain which they understood so well. The men pushed to see what + happened, because everybody was looking. All eyes were fixed on the little + woman who came running along, with those elderly little hurried steps, + those two anxious eyes which showed all the dread of the tragedy they + suspected. The people made way respectfully, as before one who is + privileged to approach and look upon what is hers. Those who could not + move back she dragged away mercilessly, gripping them with her hooked + fingers, which she thrust out at every side in order to see closer. It was + her ... her ... her son lying there, her own son; and she must get to him. + </p> + <p> + She saw him. He lay there and he was dead, the son, the child whom she had + seen leaving that morning alive and well. She stood aghast, out of breath + after the great effort of hurrying, her throat pinched with distress and + sorrow and shock, her soul filled with all the pent-up tempest that was + seeking an outlet. Her flat chest heaved and all her thin, frail little + body quivered; her legs shook beneath her. Slowly and painfully the sobs + came welling up. + </p> + <p> + The people waited in silence, more or less disappointed, saddened by all + that silent grief. Her eyes, the eyes of a mother, stared at the dead + body; and he did not look at her and he slept on and ... and he was asleep + for ever, gone for ever: he would never see her again! This last cut into + her soul; a shrill scream came from her throat, she flung her lean brown + hands together high above her head, wrung the crooked, gnarled fingers + convulsively and then, with her fists clenched in her lap, sank impotently + to her knees, with her head against his. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s such a pity, oh, it’s such a pity!” she moaned; and the words + contained all the awful depth of her woe, all the concentrated sorrow. + “Oh, it’s such a pity, such a pity!” she kept on repeating, finding no + other words to express her grief and lending them power by force of + repetition. + </p> + <p> + He remained lying there ... and she remained kneeling; and all that crowd + of people stood silently looking on, startled and impressed by that + sacred, solemn mourning. And the impressive hush, the silence of all those + people, the desperate helplessness of those folk, she alone suffering and + crying and unable to help her child and the people unwilling to help him: + that impotence pierced her soul; and the patient suffering changed into a + frenzied madness, a raging fury. With a terrible scream, like that of a + goaded beast, a hoarse yell that came grating out of her parched throat, + she thrust her arms, stiff with pain, like two steel rods, under the arms + of that limp corpse and, with a superhuman effort, with Herculean strength + exalted by suffering, she lifted the corpse, pressed it to her body, + raised it with her outstretched arms and dragged it, with its legs + trailing behind it, hurrying along at a mad pace, with the one idea of + getting home with her child, her only child, away, far away from that + callous crowd which desecrated her sorrow: there she would weep, sob out + all her grief and find words, sweet words which must throb through her + child and wake him and bring him back to life! + </p> + <p> + All that packed crowd had first followed her with their eyes, struck by + the sudden outburst of that mad rage; and then they had gone after her, + inquisitively. And it did not last long before the police-constables—those + phlegmatic posts with which any outbreak of undue human emotion must + always in the end collide—stopped them; they pulled those bony arms + from round the corpse and took the little mother, now hanging slack and + limp, one on either side by the arm and led her away. The body was carried + to the mortuary. + </p> + <p> + With a resounding oath the foreman drove his folk back to work and set all + that rolling activity going once more. + </p> + <p> + The passers-by hastened away; and the saw screeched, the chisel tapped, + the hammer banged, the bricks were hauled up on high and the gorgeous + building, the pride of a metropolis, stood resplendent in the glaring + white mid-day sun, as if nothing had happened. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. WHITE LIFE + </h2> + <p> + Her life flowed on as a little brook flows under grass on a Sunday noon in + summer, flowed on in calm seclusion, far from the bustle of the crowd, + secretly, steadily, uninterrupted save by ever-recurring little incidents, + peacefully approaching old age. She sat in her little white room, behind + the muslin curtains, making lace. Her cottage stood a little way back from + the street, shining behind a neatly-raked flower-garden. + </p> + <p> + The door was always shut and the curtains carefully drawn. Inside, + everything was very clean: smooth, bare walls and the ceiling washed with + milk-white chalk through which shone a soft touch of blue; and this bright + cleanliness contrasted soberly with the things that hung on the wall. The + chairs and furniture stood placed with care, as though nailed to the + floor; over the mantel hung the copper Christ, a thin, elongated figure of + Our Lord, with its sharp projections which shone when the sun touched + them: a little figure which, so long dead, hung there so firmly nailed and + looked so calmly from out of the small dark shadow-lines of its face. + </p> + <p> + The stove stood freshly blackened, with the waved white sand on its + polished pipe.<a href="#linknote-10" name="linknoteref-10" + id="linknoteref-10"><small>10</small></a> Over the door of the bedroom + steps hung the glass case with the waxen image of Our Lady, a girlish + figure clad in broad white folds, with bright-red, cherry cheeks, smiling + sweetly upon a doll which she carried in her arms. On the other wall was a + glaring framed print, in which a Child Jesus romped with curly-headed + angels in a motley green wood, with behind it a sunny perspective gleaming + with paradisian delights. + </p> + <p> + From the ceiling, in a white cage, hung the canary, which hopped from one + perch to the other, all day long, without ever singing. On the + window-seat, behind the little curtains, blossomed tall geraniums and + phlox, which, through the mesh of the muslin curtains, sent a blissful + fragrance through the room. + </p> + <p> + Life went its monotonous gait, measured by the slow tick of the hanging + clock, that big, stupid, laughing face which so pitilessly turned its two + unequal fingers round and round. Outside, close by, went the steel blows + of the smith’s hammer or the biting file that grated against her wall. + </p> + <p> + The sun that laughed so pleasantly through the windows and came and put + all those things in a white gleaming light beamed right through into her + little white soul: it was yet like that of a child, had remained innocent, + never been soiled or troubled; and, now that the bad storm-time was over, + it lay still in the passionless restfulness of waning life, quite taken up + with all manner of harmless occupations, devotions and acquired ways of an + old, god-fearing woman-person. Her face, which was wreathed in a round + white goffered cap, had the smooth, yellow, waxen pallor of the statue of + Our Lady, in church, and her features the severe, sober kindliness of + nuns’. She was dressed in modest, stiffly-falling folds of unrumpled lilac + silk, like the queens in old prints. + </p> + <p> + She spent those long, quiet days at her lace-pillow. That was her only + amusement, her treasure: this half-rounded arch of smooth, blue paper on + the wooden pillow-stool, occupied by a swarm of copper pins, with + coloured-glass heads, and of finely-turned wooden bobbins, with slender + necks and notched bodies, hanging side by side from fine white threads or + heaped up behind a steel bodkin. All this array of pins, holes, drawers + and trays had for her its own form and meaning, a small world in which she + knew her way so well. Her deft white fingers knew how to throw, change, + catch and pick up those bobbins so nimbly, so swiftly; she stuck her pins, + which were to give the thread its lie and form, so accurately and surely; + and, under her hand, the lace grew slowly and imperceptibly into a light + thread network, grew with the leaves and flowers of her geraniums and + phlox and the silent course of time. + </p> + <p> + ‘Twas quite a feast when, in the evening, she wound off the ravelled end + and carefully examined the white web. She closely followed all the knots, + curves and twists of those transparent little veins; and ‘twas with regret + that she rolled up the lace again and put it away in the drawer. + </p> + <p> + When all her peaceful thoughts had been fully pondered, when all that life + of every day, all that even round of happenings, like little white flakes + floating in the sunny sky, had drifted by through the thought-chambers of + her soul and when the light began to fail out of doors and in, she took + her rosary and prayed, for hours on end, slowly telling the smooth beads + between her fingers until, when it grew quite dark, she started awake and + became aware that for some time she had been telling the strokes of the + smith’s hammer on the other side of the wall. Then she laid herself + between the white sheets and tried to sleep. + </p> + <p> + Two days ago the grid of her stove broke and today she had taken it to be + mended; she had been to the smith’s and now she could not get out of her + mind what she had seen there: a black cave, like an oven, down three + steps; a dark hole hung and filled on every side with black iron tools; + and, amid all this jumble, an anvil and, in the red glow from the dancing + light of the smithy fire, a small, stunted, black little fellow, hidden + out of knowledge in that gloom; a bent, thin little man wound in a + leathern apron and with a black face, from which a pair of good-humoured + eyes peered out at her, through the shining glasses of his copper-rimmed + spectacles, like two little lights in the dark. She had gone down those + three steps, looking round shyly, afraid of getting dirty; had explained + her business to that impish little chap; and had then hastily fled from + that hell. Now it seemed to her that those two eyes had looked at her so + kindly; and she wondered how any one could live in such a hole and be a + Christian creature ... and yet that smith looked as if he had a good + heart. + </p> + <p> + Next day, she was thinking again of the little man and his dark, haunted + hole; and she sniffed the scent of her geraniums with a new pleasure and + looked with more gladness at her trim little dwelling and her lace-pillow. + She now enjoyed, realized, with all the sensual luxury of her soul, that + peaceful life of hers, something like that of the yellow, waxen Virgin + high up there on the wall, under her glass shade. And yet she was sorry + for her good neighbour: it must be so dreary alone, amid all that dirt.... + She worked at her lace, prayed and tried to think of nothing more. + </p> + <p> + He brought the new grid home himself. At first, she was shy with the man: + she got up, went to the stove, turned back again and only now and then + dared look at the smith from under her eyes. He was wrapped up in his + work, stood bending over the stove, trying to fix the grid. Seen like that + in the light, the little chap looked quite different to her eyes: he was + no longer young, his breath came quickly; but in all that he did there was + something so friendly, so kindly, something almost well-mannered, that + went oddly with his dirty clothes and his black face. The little smith was + known in the village as a lively person, who led a lonely life, but who + was able also to divert a company: he knew his customers and knew how to + manage them all. Here he took good care not to dirty the floor: he spat + his tobacco-juice into the coal-box and touched nothing with his hands. + When at last the grid was fixed, he stayed talking a little: he spoke of + her nice little life among all those white things; paid her a compliment + on her pretty flowers and shining copper; and then came close to look at + her lace-pillow. Lastly, seeing that she was not at her ease, that she + answered his remarks so shortly and hesitatingly, he gave a push to his + cap, refused to say what she owed him and was gone with a skip and a jump. + </p> + <p> + One Sunday, after vespers, he came again, bowed politely, fetched a bit of + paper out of his waistcoat-pocket and sat down on a chair by the stove. + This visit annoyed her: with the quickness with which small-minded people + weigh and think over a matter, her eyes went to the window to see if + anybody had observed him come in and was likely to set evil tongues + a-clacking. It was almost bound to be so; and, to keep her honour safe, + she opened her door, mumbling something about “warm weather” and “the + tobacco-smoke which made her cough.” + </p> + <p> + She went to her room, fetched some money and paid the bill. The smith sat + where he was, knocked out his little stone pipe and put it in his inside + pocket; he did not look at his money and, in his hoarse little voice, + began to talk of quite common things: of wind and weather and the current + news of the village; always chatting in the same tone, a jumble of long, + breathless statements. From this he went on to his dreary, lonely life, + the monotonous quiet of it and the danger of thieves, sickness and sudden + death. She said not a word, but, against the bright window-curtains, the + sharp, heavy profile of her face, together with the flutes of her white + cap, went up and down in a continual nodding assent to everything he said. + At the end, she took pleasure in hearing him talk, nor now looked upon + that clean-washed face of his as at all so ugly. It even did her good to + see some one sitting there who came to enliven the monotony of that long + Sunday evening. By her leave, he had lighted a fresh pipe; and she now sat + sniffing up that unaccustomed smell, which rose in little puffs from + behind the stove and floated round the room, filling it with long rows of + blue curls. ‘Twas as if she were overcome by that quite new smell of + tobacco and she felt inclined to sleep; she stood up, to get rid of that + slackness, shut the front-door and, without thinking what she was doing, + asked if he would have some coffee. He nodded, gladly. + </p> + <p> + She put the kettle on and got the coffee-pot ready, fetched out her best + cups and spoons and the white sugar. When the steam came rushing from the + spout, she poured water on the coffee and they sat down, one on each side + of the table, to sip the savoury drink in tiny draughts. ‘Twas long since + she had felt so comfortable and for the first time she thought with + dislike of her lonely life. ‘Twas late when he went home; she came with + him to the door ... and saw black figures that strolled past in the street + and perhaps had seen him leave. She had bad dreams all night: the people + pointed their fingers at her and slanderous tongues spread ugly things + about her. The whole of the next day her thoughts were in the smithy; she + swept the pavement more carefully and farther than usual, went now and + then and looked out of window; and her little curtains were left open with + a split in the middle. Yesterday, she had forgotten to give the canary + fresh water to drink. The people looked at her in the street; two or three + god-fearing gossips had let her walk home alone. This gave her great pain; + ‘twas as though a heavy load were weighing day and night on her breast; + and yet she was not sorry for what had happened. All these trifles could + not make her forget her content. She said her prayers and performed her + little duties with as much care as before and lived on, alone. + </p> + <p> + On Sunday, she went to church very early and prayed long: it did her so + much good, that delightful whispering with God, that sweet kind Lord Who + listened to her so patiently and always sent her away with fresh courage, + strengthened to walk on bravely along life’s irksome way. Sometimes she + was frightened at her behaviour! She was gnawed by a reproachful thought: + that she had left the straight path, that she no longer lived for God + alone, that she was forgetting her dear saints and busy with sinful + thoughts. And yet, when she carefully considered everything, nothing had + happened that seemed to her blameworthy; all that change in her life had + come as of itself and in spite of herself; and really, after all, there + was no harm in it. She prayed for that good man, who certainly needed her + spiritual aid: he went so seldom to church and lived in such a dreary + black hole. Her prayers and interest would for sure bring him to a better + frame of mind. And yet she must watch, keep strong, avoid the dangers: her + honour was a tender thing; and people were wicked. She stayed longer than + usual in the confessional and offered special prayers to every saint in + the church. + </p> + <p> + When she was back at home, she began her little Sunday duties: the + lace-pillow was put away that day and she did nothing but arrange things, + put things in their places, gather a fresh nosegay for the porcelain vase + before Our Lady’s statue and see to her cooking. She picked the withered + leaves from the geraniums, bound the branches of the phlox to the trellis + and gave them fresh water from a little flowered can. She was specially + fond of her little pot of musk: it stood on the window-seat, opposite her + chair, carefully set in a rush cage stuck into the earth and fastened at + the top with a thread. Sometimes she took it on her lap, bent her face + over it and sniffed the pleasant smell in long draughts, until she was + almost drunk with it. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon, she sat down at the window and read her Thomas à Kempis. + Then all was quite still: no hammering behind the wall, no boys in the + street, only the soft tapping of the canary in his food-trough and the + tick of the pendulum; everything was quiet as though in an enchanted + sleep. The sun glowed through the geranium-leaves and cast on the + red-tiled floor a broad, round shadow which took the whole afternoon to + creep from the legs of the stove to the front-door. + </p> + <p> + The flies buzzed round on the rafters of the ceiling or ran along the + cracks of the white-scoured table. Her thoughts wandered wearily and + lazily through the wise maxims of her book and she sometimes sat peering + at the funny shape of a coloured initial which, after long looking, became + such a silly figure, one that no longer looked in the least like a letter, + but was rather something in the form of a vice.... The lines of print ran + into one another, the maxims said all sorts of foolish things, her eyes + closed, her head nodded and she sank, with all those peaceful things, into + perfect rest. + </p> + <p> + After dinner, the smith had had a sleep; then he washed his face, put on + his best clothes and went past her window to vespers. In the evening, she + saw him again when he went to the customers for a pot of beer: this time + he gave her a friendly nod. + </p> + <p> + For her, Sunday passed like all the other days; she prayed longer and + closed her shutter earlier for fear of the drunkards. After saying a long + row of graces which she knew by heart, she went to her bedroom. In the + stuffy air of that closed upper chamber, she lay thinking. She was not + sleepy and it was nice, in the evening stillness, covered in her white + sheets, to lie with her eyes looking through the split in the white + curtains at the moon which hung shining outside. + </p> + <p> + Now she gave free scope to her thoughts, until all of that had again been + pondered round and pondered out. Then it became so funny to her: ‘twas as + if she were long dead now and floating in a pale and scented air in the + company of sweet saints and angels. But it was oh, so hazy and indistinct! + It always escaped her when she wanted to enjoy it more closely and to give + the thing a name. + </p> + <p> + It was night when the smith came home, a little tipsy, deceived by his + great thirst and the double effect of the beer in that warm weather. He + was very cheery, without really knowing why; something like a soft buzzing + fire ran through all his body and made him tingle with happiness. They had + chaffed him that evening about the old maid next door and he now felt + inclined just to tell her about it. + </p> + <p> + Wasn’t it a shame for two people to lie here so quietly and drearily, + parted by a bit of a wall, when they could have been amusing each + other?... His white neighbour was sure to be asleep by now ... and, if he + only dared ... and, quicker indeed than he intended, he gave three little + taps on the wall and lay listening, all agog.... Three like little taps + answered! This was so unexpected that at first he sat wondering whether he + could believe his ears; then he began to swim and sprawl in his bed, bit + his teeth so as not to shout out his overflowing delight and started + banging on the wall, this time with his fists. It was too late to-night: + to-morrow, he would go to her and ask her ... and then they would both ... + and he would no longer be alone, always alone, and would have some one to + care for him, to look after him.... In all this happiness he drowsed off + gently, rocked in another world, like a little wax doll in a pale-blue + paper box. + </p> + <p> + She had started out of her sleep at those three taps and had answered, not + knowing why; then she had got frightened at that wild man behind her wall, + had jumped out of bed and struck a light and sat waiting until the noise + stopped; then she commended her soul into the Lord’s hands and fell softly + asleep. + </p> + <p> + The first time that he went to see her, he found the door shut. Once, when + he met her in the street, she kept her eyes carefully cast down and passed + him without a sign of greeting. Her curtains remained drawn and she never + came to the door now. He went home and sat musing on his anvil. All his + plan was blown to bits; he found himself sadly duped and turned red with + anger when folk spoke of his dear neighbour. He hammered and filed from + morning till night; and she must now be making her lace. + </p> + <p> + Time pushed past, divided into even days, along a smooth road that led + down the mountain-slope of summer. The leaves fell from the geraniums and + the phlox. The neatly-cut-out paper fly-catcher was put away and the lamp + hung up in its place. With the sad, short days came the grey, misty sky, + the dismal, dripping rain and the white snow. The village lay dead for + half the day, dark, with here and there a little ray of light gleaming + through the shutters. + </p> + <p> + And it became gradually drearier for her: that calm rest, in which she had + once found such a pure delight, was now a heavy weariness. She longed for + change, for something different which she could not justly define, or else + to live again as before, alone and with nothing but herself. She had + struggled and fought to rid herself of that obsession, but it followed her + everywhere: she saw him go by, even when her eyes were fixed on the + lace-pillow, the stove, or the chair on which he had sat; and there was + that constant hammering and scratching behind her wall: everywhere she saw + those two kind eyes behind the copper rims of his spectacles; and she + sometimes caught herself contentedly tracing the good-natured features of + his little black face. She had prayed more than ever and evoked quite new + saints; and now she let herself drift along at God’s pleasure, no longer + even thinking of her weakness. Perhaps she was the instrument of a Blessed + Providence, destined blindly to do good. + </p> + <p> + The little curtains had long been pushed apart again; and, each time that + she heard approaching footsteps, her heart went beating and her eyes + looked eagerly to see if by chance ... it was not he. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, an anxious fluttering drove her to the front-door, where she + stood looking round for a while and then, ashamed of herself, went indoors + again. Quite against her habit, she now made use of her glass: in the + middle of her work, she went to see if the two glossy black tresses lay + neatly on her forehead and if the ribbons of her cap were properly tied + and fastened. She put on her clothes more carefully and folded and + refolded her kerchief till it enclosed her body in a pretty shape. From + before the moment of starting for church, her heart began to beat; she + shut her garden-gate more noisily and stepped loudly along the pavement + until she came to the smith’s first window, firmly resolved this time at + least to look up and say good-morning; but she always met some one who + noticed her; and she was in church by the time that, with a sigh, she had + put off her intention until next day. + </p> + <p> + At night, in bed, she lay thinking over all these little events; and it + was a glad day or a sad day for her according as she had more or less + often caught sight of the little smith. + </p> + <p> + One evening, after benediction, she saw him come walking under the trees + of the churchyard. Not a soul saw them. Now she really must have courage; + but again the blood came to her throat and she felt that once again it + would lead to nothing. He had just looked round before she came up to him + and then he sat down on the stone step before the Calvary, as though he + wanted to chat with her there at his ease: + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, Sofie,” he said, with a smile. “Have you been to say your + prayers. Don’t you ever say a little one for me? I want it so badly: my + soul’s as black as my apron and I can’t even read a prayer-book....” + </p> + <p> + He made all this speech in a soft, fondling little tone and then sat + smirking to see what she would say. There was nothing that she longed for + more than to save his soul: + </p> + <p> + “Can you say the Rosary?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I haven’t one.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you like me to give you one?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, rather ... if you’ll be so good!” + </p> + <p> + She bent close to him and whispered in his ear: + </p> + <p> + “Come and fetch it, to-morrow evening, when it’s dark.” + </p> + <p> + They walked together through the peaceful twilit churchyard and, with a + cordial “Good-evening,” went home well pleased with themselves. + </p> + <p> + For her it was an endless day; all the time she stood considering what she + should say to him. He was coming and would sit smoking there again behind + the stove. Already she heard his pleasant, whispering talk and saw his + kind, upturned glance. She moved about restlessly to set everything in + order. The shutters were closed quite early and the lamp burning. Now she + went and had one more look outside and it was pitch-dark, with never a + moon. On the stroke of eight, the door opened: he was there, with his + Sunday jacket on, his red scarf and his leather shoes. She was most + friendly, but did not at first know how to begin the conversation. + </p> + <p> + He lit his pipe and snuffled some news of the village and of people who + were married, sick or dead. She made coffee, turned up the lamp and opened + her bedroom door to give an outlet to the tobacco-smoke. Straight opposite + him, deep in the half-darkness, he saw all that show of white: against the + wall stood the bed, under a white canopy of curtains hanging in folds, set + off with a white ball-fringe; also a praying-desk with velvet cushions, + above which was an image of the Sacred Heart, with gold flowers, and, + hanging from a brass chain, a perpetual light glimmering in a little red + glass; and, all around, on the white walls, little statues and pictures, + like a devout little tabernacle ashine with cleanliness. They drank their + fragrant cup of coffee and nibbled lumps of white sugar. + </p> + <p> + “And my rosary?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She fetched it out of the drawer of her lace pillow and came and sat close + to him to teach him how to say it: + </p> + <p> + “Here, at the little cross, the I Believe in God the Father; then, at each + big bead, an Our Father; and, at the little ones, a Hail Mary.” + </p> + <p> + He sat with his legs drawn under his chair, with one hand at his chin, + listening good-humouredly and, with a smile, repeating all she taught him. + Her eyes shone with happiness. Now the talk went easily on church matters + and all the things of her pious little life; she showed him the pictures + in her prayer-book, explained all the attributes of the saints and told + long stories of their lives and martyrdoms. + </p> + <p> + He, also, told her of his youth, when he made his first communion and was + the best little man in the whole village. It was striking ten when he went + home; and he had promised to come and listen to her again. + </p> + <p> + Every evening, when it grew dark, he sat peeping to see if there was no + one in the street and then cautiously crept in through her gate. He + brought her old books from his loft; and, while he smoked his pipe, she + lit the candle before the statue of Our Lady and started talking, very + gently, so as not to be heard outside. She read whole chapters out of + Thomas à Kempis and <i>The Pious Pilgrim</i>, <i>The Dove amongst the + Rocks</i>, <i>The Spiritual Bridegroom</i>, or <i>The Sacred Meditations</i>. + They sat there for hours at a time gazing at each other and smiling. When + it grew late, she went and looked outside and, when the moment was + favourable, she carefully let him out. She thanked Our Lord for making her + so happy and often prayed that it might last and she win the smith’s soul + for Heaven and that their doing might all the same be kept hidden from + wicked people. + </p> + <p> + St. Eloi’s Day is the holiday of smiths and husbandmen. In the morning, + the farmers all went together to mass and thence, after a glass, to settle + their yearly reckoning at the smith’s. At noon there was a big dinner at + the inn. They ate much and drank more; and, from afternoon till late in + the evening, the smiths’ men and the peasants loafed along the streets and + sang ribald songs. The steadiest of them walked about talking, from one + tavern to the other. They were nearly all drunk. She sat peeping at it + from behind her curtain and was vexed at all this wantonness and rather + glad that she had not yet seen “him” anywhere. She said her evening + prayers and was just going to bed when she heard the door open and the + smith stepped in. + </p> + <p> + He carried his pipe upside down in his mouth, his eyes looked wild and his + speech was incoherent. She had never seen him like that; and she was + frightened at his strange gestures. She wanted him to sit down, but he + came up to her with his arms open, as if to catch hold of her. She stepped + back in affright, pushed him away from her. His breath stank of drink and + his thin legs tottered under him. She began to beseech him, that it was + late and that he should go home and that people would know.... But his + eyes looked at her roguishly and, with bent head and outstretched arms, he + kept on trying to come closer. Filled with dread, she wavered away behind + the tables and chairs, whimpering: + </p> + <p> + “If you please, if you please, Sander, go home; you frighten me!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, he nipped out the flame of the lamp with his fingers. It was + quite dark. + </p> + <p> + “Sander! Sander! What do you want? Heavens! He’s drunk! And I’m here all + alone! Lord God, St. Catherine, help!” + </p> + <p> + He still spoke not a word, but uttered ugly growls; and she heard his + hands rub and grope along the wall, against herself. She pulled open the + door of her bedroom and fled up the stairs and fell in a heap in the + corner beside her bed. There she sat waiting, out of breath.... Yes, his + heavy shoes had found the steps; and, still growling, he entered the room. + He felt the bed, lay down flat on his stomach and reached out with his + arms; then he found her sitting sighing. She felt those two weedy arms + grasp her and was caught in them as in an iron band. She moaned and + screamed for help. His dirty, slimy mouth pressed her lips ... and then + she felt herself sink away, out of the world. The people who heard the + cries came to see what was the matter. They hauled the drunkard outside + and laid her on the bed. When they saw that she was better, they went away + again. + </p> + <p> + She lay stretched out slackly in the dark. First, still quite overcome, as + though drunk with sleep, she slowly, through that dim whirl of stormy + thoughts, came to understand what had happened: all her misfortune, which + yawned before her like a deep, black well. She was ashamed, disgusted with + herself and felt a great aversion, a loathing for all the world: people + were a pack of lustful pigs.... And he too: that was over now, suddenly + over, for good and all.... And he ... no, he had deceived her, grievously + defiled her. And now to have to go on living like that! It was done past + recall: she was punished for her trustfulness ... and those same kind eyes + and that friendly face; only yesterday, they had said their evening + prayers together and so devoutly! Oh, ‘twas such a pity! And what would + people say?... And the priest?... And Our Lord and all His dear saints?... + She fell into ever-deepening despair and saw never a way out. Very far + away shone her pure little life of former days, her white and peaceful + little soul floating in that unruffled blue sanctity, in that fragrant + twilight of evening after evening ... and all this he had now crushed in + one second and stamped to pieces. And he was dead to her, he with whom she + had dreamed so sweetly and lived in glad expectation. In her wretchedness, + she was left stark alone, abandoned like a poor babe in the snow. She + plunged her face into the white sheets and cried. She would have liked to + pine away there, in that kindly darkness, and never, never to see daylight + again. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. THE END + </h2> + <p> + Zeen pulled up his bent back, wiped the sweat from his forehead with his + bare arm and drew a short breath. + </p> + <p> + Zalia, with her head close to the ground, went on binding her sheaves. + </p> + <p> + The sun was blazing. + </p> + <p> + After a while, Zeen took up his sickle again and went on cutting down the + corn. With short, even strokes, with a swing of his arm, the sickle rose + and, with a “d-zin-n-n” fell at the foot of the cornstalks and brought + them down in great armfuls. Then they were hooked away and dragged back in + little even heaps, ready to be bound up. + </p> + <p> + It did not last long: he stopped again, looked round over all that power + of corn which still had to be cut and beyond, over that swarming plain, + which lay scorching, so hugely far, under that merciless sun. He saw Zalia + look askant because he did not go on working and, to account for his + resting, drew his whetstone from his trouser-pocket and began slowly to + sharpen the sickle. + </p> + <p> + “Zalia, it’s so hot.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it’s that,” said Zalia. + </p> + <p> + He worked on again, but slowly, very slackly. + </p> + <p> + The sweat ran in great drops down his body; and sometimes he felt as if he + would tumble head foremost into the corn. Zalia heard his breath come + short and fast; she looked at him and asked what was the matter. His arms + dropped feebly to his sides; and the hook and sickle fell from his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Zalia, I don’t know ... but something’s catching my breath like; and my + eyes are dim....” + </p> + <p> + “It’s the heat, Zeen, it’ll wear off. Take a pull.” + </p> + <p> + She fetched the bottle of gin from the grass edge of the field, poured a + sip down his throat and stood looking to see how it worked: + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + Zeen did not answer, but stood there shivering and staring, with his eyes + fixed on a bluebonnet in the cut corn. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, Zeen, get it done! Have just another try: it’ll get cooler + directly and we’ll be finished before dark.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Zalia, it’s so awfully hot here and it’ll be long before it’s + evening!” + </p> + <p> + “But, Zeen, what do you feel?” + </p> + <p> + Zeen made no movement. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ill?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am, Zalia. No, not ill, but I feel so queer and I think I ought to + go home.” + </p> + <p> + Zalia did not know what to do: she was frightened and did not understand + his funny talk. + </p> + <p> + “If you’re ill ... if you can’t go on, you’d better get home quick: you’re + standing there like a booby.” + </p> + <p> + Zeen left his sickle on the ground and went straight off the field. She + saw him go slowly, the poor old soul, lurching like a drunken man, and + disappear behind the trees. Then she took her straw-band and bundled up + all the little heaps of corn, one after the other, and bound them into + sheaves. She next took the sickle and the hook and just went cutting away + like a man: stubbornly, steadily, with a frenzied determination to get it + done. The more the corn fell, the quicker she made the sickle whizz. + </p> + <p> + The sweat ran down her face; now and then, she jogged back the straw hat + from over her eyes to see how much was left standing and then went on + cutting, on and on. She panted in the doing of it.... She was there alone, + on that outstretched field, in that heat which weighed upon her like a + heavy load; it was stifling. She heard no sound besides the swish of her + steel and the rustling of the falling corn. + </p> + <p> + When at last she could go on no longer, she took a sip at the bottle and + got new strength. + </p> + <p> + The sun was low in the sky when she stood there alone on the smooth field, + with all the corn lying flat at her feet. Then she started binding. + </p> + <p> + The air grew cooler. When the last sheaf was fastened in its straw-band + and they now stood set up in heavy stooks, like black giants in straight + rows, it began to grow dark. She wiped the sweat from her face, slipped on + her blue striped jacket, put the bottle in her hat, took the sickle and + hook on her shoulder and, before going, stood for a while looking at her + work. She could now see so very far across that close-shorn plain; she + stood there so alone, so tall in that stubble-field, everything lay so + flat and, far away over there, the trees stood black and that mill and the + fellow walking there: all as though drawn with ink on the sky. It seemed + to her as if the summer was now past and that heavy sultriness was a last + cramped sigh before the coming of the short days and the cold. + </p> + <p> + She went home. Zeen was ill and it was so strange to be going back without + him. It was all so dreary, so dim and deadly, so awful. Along the edge of + the deep sunken path the grasshoppers chirped here and there, all around + her: an endless chirping on every side, all over the grass and the field; + and it went like a gentle woof of voices softly singing. This singing at + last began to chatter in her ears and it became a whining rustle, a + deafening tumult and a painful laughter. From behind the pollard her cat + jumped on to the path: it had come to the field to meet her and, purring + cosily, was now arching its back and loitering between Zalia’s legs until + she stroked it; then it ran home before her with great bounds. The goat, + hearing steps approach, put its head over the stable-door and began to + bleat. + </p> + <p> + The house-door was open; as she went in, Zalia saw not a thing before her + eyes, but she heard something creaking on the floor. It was Zeen, trying + to scramble to his feet when he heard her come in. + </p> + <p> + “Zeen!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” moaned Zeen. + </p> + <p> + “How are you? No better yet? Where are you?... Why are you lying flat on + the floor like this?” + </p> + <p> + “Zalia, I’m so ill ... my stomach and....” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve never been ill yet, Zeen! It won’t be anything this time.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m ill now, Zalia.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait, I’ll get a light. Why aren’t you in bed?” + </p> + <p> + “In bed, in bed ... then it’ll be for good, Zalia; I’m afraid of my bed.” + </p> + <p> + She felt along the ceiling for the lamp, then in the corner of the hearth + for the tinder-box; she struck fire and lit up. + </p> + <p> + Zeen looked pale, yellow, deathlike. Zalia was startled by it, but, to + comfort him: + </p> + <p> + “It’ll be nothing, Zeen,” she said. “I’ll give you a little Haarlem oil.” + </p> + <p> + She pulled him on to a chair, fetched the little bottle, put a few drops + into a bowl of milk and poured it down his throat. + </p> + <p> + “Is it doing you good?” + </p> + <p> + And Zeen, to say something, said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is, Zalia, but I’d like to go to sleep, I’m feeling cold now and + I’ve got needles sticking into my side ... here, see?” + </p> + <p> + And he pressed both his hands on the place. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you’re better in bed; it’ll be gone in the morning and we’ll fetch + in the corn.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it cut?” + </p> + <p> + “All done and stooked; if it keeps fine to-morrow, we’ll get it all into + the barn.” + </p> + <p> + Zalia lifted him under his armpits and they crawled on like that into the + other room, where the loom stood with the bed behind it. She helped him + take off his jacket and trousers and put him to bed, tucked him nicely + under the blanket and put his night-cap on his head. + </p> + <p> + Then she went and lit the fire in the hearth, hung up the pot with the + goat’s food, washed the potatoes and sat down to peel them for supper. + </p> + <p> + She had not peeled three, when she heard Zeen bringing up. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the oil, it’ll do him good,” she thought and, fetching a can of + water from outside, gave him a bowl to drink. + </p> + <p> + Then she went back to her peeling. A bit later, she sat thinking of other + remedies—limeflowers, sunflower-seeds, pearl barley, flowers of + sulphur—when suddenly she saw Mite Kornelje go by. She ran out and + called: + </p> + <p> + “Mite!” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Zalia?” + </p> + <p> + “Mite, Zeen is ill.” + </p> + <p> + “What, ill? All at once?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, all of a sudden, cutting the corn in the field.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he bad?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, I’ve given him some Haarlem oil, he’s been sick; he’s + complaining of pains in his side and in his stomach; he’s very pale: you + wouldn’t know him.” + </p> + <p> + They went indoors. Zalia took the lamp and both passed in, between the + loom and the wall by Zeen’s bed. + </p> + <p> + He lay staring at the ceiling and catching his breath. Mite stood looking + at him. + </p> + <p> + “You must give him some English salt,<a href="#linknote-11" + name="linknoteref-11" id="linknoteref-11"><small>11</small></a> Zalia.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mite, I never thought of that; yes, he must have some English salt.” + </p> + <p> + And she climbed on to a chair and took from the plank above the bed a + dusty calabash full of little paper bags and packets. + </p> + <p> + She opened them one by one and found canary-seed, blacklead, washing-blue, + powdered cloves, cinnamon, sugar-candy, burnt-ash ... but no English salt. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll run home and fetch some, Zalia.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mite, do.” + </p> + <p> + And Mite went off. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Zeen, no better yet?” + </p> + <p> + Zeen did not answer. She took a pail of water and a cloth, cleaned away + the mess from beside the bed and then went back to peel her potatoes. + </p> + <p> + Mite came back with the English salt. Treze Wizeur and Stanse Zegers, who + had heard the news, also came to see how Zeen was getting on. Mite stirred + a handful of the salt in a bowl of water and they all four went to the + sick man’s bed. Zeen swallowed the draught without blinking. Mite knew of + other remedies, Stanse knew of some too and Treze of many more: they asked + Zeen questions and babbled to him, made him put out his tongue and felt + his pulse, cried out at his gasping for breath and his pale colour and his + dilated pupils and his burning fever. Zeen did not stir and lay looking at + the ceiling. When he was tired of the noise, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Leave me alone.” + </p> + <p> + And he turned his face to the wall. + </p> + <p> + Then they all went back to the kitchen. The goat’s food was done. Zalia + hung the kettle with water on the hook and made coffee; and the four women + sat round the table telling one another stories of illness. In the other + room there was no sound. + </p> + <p> + A bit later, Mite’s little girl came to see where mother was all this + time. She was given a lump of sugar and sat down by her mother. + </p> + <p> + “Zalia, have you only one lamp?” asked Treze. + </p> + <p> + “That’s all, Treze, but I have the candle.” + </p> + <p> + “What candle?” + </p> + <p> + “The blessed candle.” + </p> + <p> + “We’ve not come to that yet: it’s only that Zeen has to lie in the dark + like this and we have to go to and fro with the lamp to look at him.” + </p> + <p> + “Zeen would rather lie in the dark.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you what: Fietje shall run home and fetch something, won’t you, + Fietje? And say that mother is going to stay here because Zeen is dying.” + </p> + <p> + Fietje went off. The coffee was ready and when they had gulped down their + first bowl, they went to have another look in the room where the sick man + lay. + </p> + <p> + Zeen was worse. + </p> + <p> + “We must sit up with him,” said Stanse. + </p> + <p> + “For sure,” said Treze. “I’ll go and tell my man: I’ll be back at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell Free as you’re passing that I’m staying here too,” said Stanse. + </p> + <p> + “We must eat, for all that,” said Zalia; and she hung the potatoes over + the fire. + </p> + <p> + Then she went to milk the goat and take it its food. It was bright as day + outside and quiet, so very quiet, with still some of the heat of the sun + lingering in the air, which weighed sultrily. She crept into the dark + goat-house, put down the pot with the food and started milking. + </p> + <p> + “Betje, Betje, Zeen is so ill; Zeen may be dying, Betje!” + </p> + <p> + She always clacked to her goat like that. Two streams of milk came + clattering in turns into the little pail. + </p> + <p> + People came: Treze and Mite’s little girl, with a lantern, and Barbara + Dekkers, who had also come to have a look. + </p> + <p> + “I’m here,” said Zalia, “I’ve done, I’m coming at once.” + </p> + <p> + They stood talking a bit outside in the moonlight and then went in. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps my man’ll come on,” said Treze. “A man is better than three women + in illness; and Virginie’s coming too: I’ve been to tell her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said Barbara, “who’d ever have thought it of Zeen!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, friends, and never been ill in his life; and he turned seventy.” + </p> + <p> + Stanse mashed the potatoes; Zalia poured a drain of milk over them and + hung them over the fire again. + </p> + <p> + “Have you all had your suppers?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Treze and Barbara and Mite. + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t,” said Stanse. + </p> + <p> + Zalia turned the steaming potato-mash into an earthen porringer and she + and Stanse sat down to it. The others drank a fresh bowl of coffee. + </p> + <p> + They were silent. + </p> + <p> + The door opened and from behind the screen came a great big fellow with a + black beard: + </p> + <p> + “What’s up here? A whole gathering of people: is it harvest-treat to-day, + Zalia? Why, here’s Barbara and Mite and....” + </p> + <p> + “Warten, Zeen is ill.” + </p> + <p> + “Zeen?... Ill?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ill, man, and we’re sitting up.” + </p> + <p> + Warten opened wide eyes, flung the box which he carried over his shoulder + by a leather strap to the ground and sat down on it: + </p> + <p> + “Ha! So Zeen’s ill... he’s not one of the youngest either.” + </p> + <p> + “Seventy-five.” + </p> + <p> + They were silent. The womenfolk drank their coffee. Warten fished out a + pipe and tobacco from under his blue smock and sat looking at the rings of + smoke that wound up to the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps I’ve come at the right time, if that’s so.” + </p> + <p> + “You can help sit up.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you had your supper, Warten?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Zalia, at the farm.” + </p> + <p> + “And how’s trade?” asked Stanse. + </p> + <p> + “Quietly, old girl.” + </p> + <p> + They heard a moaning in the other room. Barbara lit the lantern and all + went to look. Warten stayed behind, smoking. + </p> + <p> + Zeen lay there, on a poverty-stricken little bed, low down near the + ground, behind the loom, huddled deep on his bolster under a dirty + blanket: a thin little black chap, leaning against a pillow in the dancing + twilight of the lantern. His eyes were closed and his bony face + half-hidden in the blue night-cap. His breath rustled; and each puff from + his hoarse throat, blowing out the thin flesh of his cheeks, escaped + through a little opening on one side of his sunken lips, which each time + opened and shut. + </p> + <p> + “Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!” cried Barbara. + </p> + <p> + “That’s bad, that’s bad,” said Stanse and shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “His eyes are shut and yet he’s not asleep!” + </p> + <p> + “Zeen! Zeen!” cried Mite and she pushed him back by his forehead to make + him look up. “Zeen! Zeen! It’s I: don’t you know Mite?” + </p> + <p> + “Oof!” sighed Zeen; and his head dropped down again without his eyes + opening. + </p> + <p> + “He’s got the fever,” said Barbara. “Just feel how his forehead’s burning + and he’s as hot as fire.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t you poulticed him?” asked Stanse. “He wants poultices on his + feet: mustard.” + </p> + <p> + “We haven’t any mustard and it’s far to the village.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he must have a bran bath, Zalia. Stanse, put on the kettle.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any bran, Zalia?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not ready; but there’s maize.” + </p> + <p> + “And a sieve?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there’s a sieve.” + </p> + <p> + “Hi, Warten, come and sift!” + </p> + <p> + Warten came in: + </p> + <p> + “Zeen, how are you, my boy? Oh, how thin he is! And his breath ... it’s + spluttering, that’s bad. He’ll go off quickly, Barbara, it seems to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to-night,” said Treze. + </p> + <p> + “Warten, go to the loft, take the lamp and sift out a handful of maize; + Zeen must have a bran bath at once.” + </p> + <p> + Warten went up the stair. After a while, they heard above their heads the + regular, jogging drag of the sieve over the boarded ceiling and the fine + meal-dust snowed down through the cracks, whirling round the lamp, and + fell on Zeen’s bed and on the women standing round. + </p> + <p> + Zeen nodded his head. They held a bowl of milk to his mouth; two little + white streaks ran down from the corners of his mouth into his + shirt-collar. + </p> + <p> + The sieve went on dragging. The women looked at Zeen, then at one another + and then at the lantern. In the kitchen, the kettle sang drearily.... + </p> + <p> + Warten came down from the loft with half a pailful of bran. Barbara poured + the steaming water on it and flung in a handful of salt. + </p> + <p> + They took the clothes off the bed and pulled his feet into the bran-water. + Zeen groaned; he opened his eyes wide and looked round wildly at all those + people. + </p> + <p> + He hung there for a very long time, with his lean black legs out of the + bed and the bony knees and shrunk thighs in the insipid, sickly-smelling + steam of the bran-water. Then they lifted him out and stuck his wet feet + under the bedclothes again. Zeen did not stir, but just lay with the + rattle in his throat. + </p> + <p> + “What a sad sick man,” said Stanse, softly. + </p> + <p> + Mite wanted to give him some food, eggs: it might be faintness. + </p> + <p> + Treze wanted to bring him round with gin: her husband had once.... + </p> + <p> + “Is there any, for the night?...” asked Stanse. + </p> + <p> + “There’s a whole bottle over there, in the cupboard.” + </p> + <p> + Zeen opened his eyes—two green, glazed eyes, which no longer saw + things—and wriggled his arms from under the clothes: + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you make the goat stop bleating?” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + They looked at one another. + </p> + <p> + “Zalia, why won’t you speak to me?... And what are all these people doing + here?... I don’t want any one to help me die!... I and Zalia.... I and + Zalia.... Look, how beautiful! Zalia, the procession’s going up the wall + there.... Why don’t you look?... It’s so beautiful!... And I, I’m the only + ugly one in it....” + </p> + <p> + “He’s wandering,” whispered Treze. + </p> + <p> + “And what’s that chap doing here, Zalia?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s I, Zeen, I: Warten the spectacle-man.” + </p> + <p> + His eyes fell to again and his cheeks again blew the breath through the + little slit of his mouth. It rattled; and the fever rose. + </p> + <p> + “It’ll be to-night,” said Treze. + </p> + <p> + “Where can Virginie be? She’ll come too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Virginie is better than three doctors or a priest either,” thought Mite. + </p> + <p> + “Zalia, I think I’d get out the candle.” + </p> + <p> + Zalia went to the chest and got out the candle. + </p> + <p> + “Mother, I’m frightened,” whined Fietje. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn’t be frightened of dead people, child; you must get used to + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any holy water, Zalia?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, Barbara: it’s in the little pot over the bed!” + </p> + <p> + “And blessed palm?” + </p> + <p> + “Behind the crucifix.” + </p> + <p> + There was a creaking in the kitchen and Virginie appeared past the loom: a + little old woman huddled in her hooded cloak; in one hand she carried a + little lantern and in the other a big prayer-book. She came quietly up to + the bed, looked at Zeen for some time, felt his pulse and then, looking + up, said, very quietly: + </p> + <p> + “Zeen’s going.... Has the priest been?” + </p> + <p> + “The priest?... It’s so far and so late and the poor soul’s so old....” + </p> + <p> + “What have you given him?” + </p> + <p> + “Haarlem oil, English salt....” + </p> + <p> + “And we put his feet in bran water.” + </p> + <p> + Virginie stood thinking. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any linseed-meal?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then ... but it’s too late now, any way....” + </p> + <p> + And she looked into the sick man’s eyes again. + </p> + <p> + “He’s very far gone,” thought Mite. + </p> + <p> + “Got worse quickly,” said Barbara. + </p> + <p> + Zalia said nothing; she stood at the foot of the bed, looking at her + husband and then at the women who were saying what they thought of him. + </p> + <p> + “Get the blessed candle; we must pray, good people,” said Virginie; and + she put on her spectacles and went and stood with her book under the + light. + </p> + <p> + The women knelt on low chairs or on the floor. Warten stood with his + elbows leaning on the rail of the bed, at Zeen’s head. Treze took the + blessed candle out of its paper covering and lit it at the lamp. + </p> + <p> + Zeen’s chest rose and fell and his throat rattled painfully; his eyes + stood gazing dimly at the rafters of the ceiling; his thin lips were pale + and his face turned blue with the pain; he no longer looked like a living + thing. + </p> + <p> + Virginie read very slowly, with a dismal, drawling voice, through her + nose, while Treze held Zeen’s weak fingers closed round the candle. It was + still as death. + </p> + <p> + “May the Light of the World, Christ Jesus, Who is symbolized by this + candle, brightly light thy eyes that thou mayest not depart this life in + death everlasting. Our Father....” + </p> + <p> + They softly muttered this Our Father and it remained solemnly still, with + only Warten’s rough grunting and Zeen’s painful breathing and the goat + which kept ramming its head against the wall. And then, slower by degrees: + </p> + <p> + “Depart, O Christian soul, from this sorrowful world; go to meet thy dear + Bridegroom, Christ Jesus, and carry a lighted candle in thy hands: He + Who....” + </p> + <p> + Then Barbara, interrupting her, whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Look, Virginie, he’s getting worse; the rattle’s getting fainter: turn + over, you’ll be too late.” + </p> + <p> + Treze was tired of holding Zeen’s hand round the candle: she spilt a few + drops of wax on the rail of the bed and stuck the candle on it. + </p> + <p> + Zeen jerked himself up, put his hands under the clothes and fumbled with + them; then he lay still. + </p> + <p> + “He’s packing up,” whispered Barbara. + </p> + <p> + “He’s going,” one of the others thought. + </p> + <p> + Virginie dipped the palm-branch into the holy water and sprinkled the bed + and the bystanders; then she read on: + </p> + <p> + “Go forth, O Christian soul, out of this world, in the name of God the + Father Almighty, Who created thee, in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son of + the living God, Who suffered for thee; in the name of the Holy Ghost, Who + sanctified thee.” + </p> + <p> + “Hurry, hurry, Virginie: he’s almost stopped breathing!” + </p> + <p> + The cat jumped between Zalia and Treze on to the bed and went making dough + with its front paws on the clothes; it looked surprised at all those + people and purred softly. Warten drove it away with his cap. + </p> + <p> + “Receive, O Lord, Thy servant Zeen into the place of salvation which he + hopes to obtain through Thy mercy.” + </p> + <p> + “Amen,” they all answered. + </p> + <p> + “Deliver, O Lord, the soul of Thy servant from all danger of hell and from + all pain and tribulation.” + </p> + <p> + “Amen.” + </p> + <p> + “Deliver, O Lord, the soul of Thy servant Zeen, as Thou deliveredst Enoch + and Elias from the common death of the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Amen.” + </p> + <p> + “Deliver, O Lord, the soul of Thy servant Zeen, as Thou deliveredst....” + </p> + <p> + “I’m on fire! I’m on fire!” howled Warten. “My smock! My smock!” + </p> + <p> + And he jumped over all the chairs and rushed outside, with the others + after him. + </p> + <p> + “Caught fire at the candle!” he cried, quite out of breath. + </p> + <p> + They put out the flames, pulled the smock over his head and poured water + on his back, where his underclothes were smouldering. + </p> + <p> + “My smock, my smock!” he went on moaning. “Brand-new! Cost me forty-six + stuivers!” + </p> + <p> + And he stood with his smock in his hands, looking at the huge holes and + rents. + </p> + <p> + They made a great noise, all together, and their sharp voices rang far and + wide into the still night. + </p> + <p> + Virginie alone had remained by the bedside. She picked up the candle, lit + it again, put it back on the rail of the bed and then went on reading the + prayers. When she saw that Zeen lay very calmly and no longer breathed, + she sprinkled him with holy water for the last time and then went outside: + </p> + <p> + “People ... he’s with the Lord.” + </p> + <p> + It was as if their fright had made them forget what was happening indoors: + they rushed in, eager to know ... and Zeen was dead. + </p> + <p> + “Stone-dead,” said Barbara. + </p> + <p> + “Hopped the twig!” said Warten. + </p> + <p> + “Quick! Hurry! The tobacco-seed will be tainted!” screamed Mite; and she + snatched down two or three linen bags which hung from the rafters and + carried them outside. + </p> + <p> + First they moaned; then they tried to comfort one another, especially + Zalia, who had dropped into a chair and turned very pale. + </p> + <p> + Then they set to work: Treze filled the little glasses; Barbara hung the + water over the fire; and Warten, in his shirt-sleeves, stropped his razor + to shave Zeen’s beard. + </p> + <p> + “And the children! The children who are not here!” moaned Zalia. “He ought + to have seen the children!” + </p> + <p> + “First say the prayers,” ordered Virginie. + </p> + <p> + All knelt down and, while Warten shaved the dead man, it went: + </p> + <p> + “Come to his assistance, all ye saints of God; meet him, all ye angels of + God: receiving his soul, offering it in the sight of the Most High.... + </p> + <p> + “To Thee, O Lord, we commend the soul of Thy servant, that being dead to + this world, he may live to Thee; and whatever sins he has committed in + this life, through human frailty, do Thou, in Thy most merciful goodness, + forgive....” + </p> + <p> + “Amen,” they answered. + </p> + <p> + Virginie shut her book, once more sprinkled holy water on the corpse and + went home, praying as she went. + </p> + <p> + Zalia made the sign of the Cross and closed her husband’s eyes; then she + laid a white towel on a little table by the bed and put the candle on it + and the crucifix and the holy water. + </p> + <p> + Warten and Barbara took Zeen out of the bed and put him on a chair, washed + him all over with luke-warm water, put a clean shirt on him and his Sunday + clothes over him; then they laid him on the bed again. + </p> + <p> + “He’ll soon begin to must,” said Barbara. + </p> + <p> + “The weather’s warm.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s very bent: how’ll they get him into the coffin?” + </p> + <p> + “Crack his back.” + </p> + <p> + Treze looked round for a prayer-book to lay under Zeen’s chin and a + crucifix and rosary for his hands. + </p> + <p> + Mite took a red handkerchief and bound it round his head to keep his mouth + closed. Fietje was still kneeling and saying Our Fathers. + </p> + <p> + “It’s done now,” said Barbara, with a deep sigh. “We’ll have just one more + glass and then go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear people, stay a little longer!” whined Zalia. “Don’t leave me + here alone.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s only,” said Mite, “that it’ll be light early to-morrow and we’ve had + no sleep yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” said Barbara, to comfort her, “you mustn’t take on now. Zeen + has lived his span and has died happily in his bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Question is, shall we do as well?” said Mite. + </p> + <p> + “And Siska and Romenie and Kordula and the boys, who are not here! They + ought to have seen their father die!... The poor children, they’ll cry + so!” + </p> + <p> + “They’ll know it in good time,” said Warten. + </p> + <p> + “And where are they living now?” asked Mite. + </p> + <p> + “In France, the two oldest ... and there’s Miel, the soldier ... it’s in + their letters, behind the glass.” + </p> + <p> + “Give ‘em to me,” said Treze. “I’ll make my boy write to-morrow, before he + goes to school.” + </p> + <p> + They were going off. + </p> + <p> + “And I, who, with this all, don’t know where I’m to sleep,” said Warten. + “My old roost, over the goat-house: you’ll be wanting that to-night, + Zalia?” + </p> + <p> + Zalia wavered. + </p> + <p> + “Zalia could come with me,” said Barbara. + </p> + <p> + “And leave the house alone? And who’s to go to the priest to-morrow? And + to the carpenter? And my harvest, my harvest! Yes, yes, Warten, do you get + into the goat-house and help me a bit to-morrow. I shall sleep: why not?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Alla</i><a href="#linknote-12" name="linknoteref-12" + id="linknoteref-12"><small>12</small></a>, come, Fietje; mother’s going + home.” + </p> + <p> + They went; and Zalia came a bit of the way with them. Their wooden shoes + clattered softly in the powdery sand of the white road; when they had gone + very far, their voices still rang loud and their figures looked like + wandering pollards. + </p> + <p> + In the east, a thin golden-red streak hung between two dark clouds. It was + very cool. + </p> + <p> + “Fine weather to-morrow,” said Warten; and he trudged off to his + goat-house. “Good-night, Zalia.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Warten.” + </p> + <p> + “Sleep well.” + </p> + <p> + “Sleep well too and say another Our Father for Zeen.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + She went in and bolted the door. Inside it all smelt of candle and the + musty odour of the corpse. She put out the fire in the hearth, dipped her + fingers once more in the holy water and made a cross over Zeen. While her + lips muttered the evening prayers, she took off her kerchief, her jacket + and her cap and let fall her skirt. Then she straddled across Zeen and lay + right against the wall. She twisted her feet in her shift and crept + carefully under the bed-clothes. She shuddered. Her thoughts turned like + the wind: her daughters were in service in France and were now sleeping + quietly and knew of nothing; her eldest, who was married, and her husband + and the children came only once a year to see their father; and even + then.... And now they would find him dead. + </p> + <p> + Her harvest ... and she was alone now, to get it in. Warten would go to + the priest early in the morning and to the carpenter: the priest ought to + have been here, ‘twas a comfort after all; but Zeen had always been good + and ... now to go dying all at once like this, without the sacraments.... + </p> + <p> + Why couldn’t she sleep now? She was so tired, so worn out with that + reaping; and it was so warm here, so stifling and it smelt queer: what a + being could come to, when he was dead! + </p> + <p> + Had she slept at all? She had been lying there so long ... and there was + that smell! She wished she had sent Warten away and gone herself to lie in + the goat-house; here, beside that corpse ... but, after all, it was + Zeen.... + </p> + <p> + The flame of the candle flickered and everything flickered with it—the + loom, the black rafters and the crucifix—in dark shadow-stripes upon + the wall. ‘Twas that kept her awake. She sat up and blew from where she + was, but the flame danced more than ever and kept on burning. Then she + carefully stepped across Zeen and nipped out the candle with her fingers. + It was dark now.... She strode back into bed, stepping on Zeen’s leg; and + the corpse shook and the stomach rumbled. She held herself tucked against + the wall, twisted and turned, pinched her eyes to, but did not sleep. The + smell got into her nose and throat and it became very irksome, unbearable. + And she got out of bed again, to open the window. A fresh breeze blew into + the room; far away beyond, the sky began to brighten; and behind the + cornfield she heard the singing beat of a sickle and the whistling of a + sad, drawling street-ditty: + </p> + <p> + “They’re at work already.” + </p> + <p> + Now she lay listening to the whizzing beat and the rustle of the falling + corn and that drawling, never-changing tune.... + </p> + <p> + The funeral would be the day after to-morrow: already she saw all the + troop passing along the road and then in the church and then ... all + alone, home again. Zeen was dead now and she remained ... and all those + children, her children, who still had so long to live, would also grow + old, in their turn, and die ... ever on ... and all that misery and + slaving and then to go ... and Zeen, her Zeen, the Zeen of yesterday, who + was still alive then and not ill. Her Zeen; and she saw him as a young man + over forty years ago: a handsome chap he was. She had lived so long with + Zeen and had known him so well, better than her own self; and that he + should now be lying there beside her ... cold ... and never again ... that + he should now be dead. + </p> + <p> + Then she broke down and wept. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_FOOT" id="link2H_FOOT"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FOOTNOTES: + </h2> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-1" id="linknote-1"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 1 (<a href="#linknoteref-1">return</a>)<br /> [ The West-Fleming talks of + dogs of either sex invariably as “he.”] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-2" id="linknote-2"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 2 (<a href="#linknoteref-2">return</a>)<br /> [ A cow’s horn fitted with a + mouthpiece.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-3" id="linknote-3"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 3 (<a href="#linknoteref-3">return</a>)<br /> [ An iron pot with a bladder + stretched across the top, beaten with sticks, like a drum.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-4" id="linknote-4"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 4 (<a href="#linknoteref-4">return</a>)<br /> [ Beggar.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-5" id="linknote-5"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 5 (<a href="#linknoteref-5">return</a>)<br /> [ A legendary figure of a + snow-covered bogie, who comes down to the villages at Christmas-time and + runs away with the children.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-6" id="linknote-6"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 6 (<a href="#linknoteref-6">return</a>)<br /> [ The bedroom behind the + kitchen or living-room, in the Flemish cottages, is over the cellar; but + this cellar is not entirely underground and is lighted by a very low + window at the back. Consequently, the floor of the bedroom is a little + higher than that of the living-room and is approached by a flight of two + or three steps.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-7" id="linknote-7"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 7 (<a href="#linknoteref-7">return</a>)<br /> [ The Flemish low-wheeled + cart drawn by dogs.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-8" id="linknote-8"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 8 (<a href="#linknoteref-8">return</a>)<br /> [ The West-Flemings brew a + beer so extremely strong that it is served in quite small glasses, not + more than half the size of an ordinary tumbler.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-9" id="linknote-9"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 9 (<a href="#linknoteref-9">return</a>)<br /> [ Hob-nailed shoes fastened + with straps.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-10" id="linknote-10"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 10 (<a href="#linknoteref-10">return</a>)<br /> [ The Flemish stove is + connected with the chimney by a flat pipe, on which the plates and other + utensils are heated. On Sundays, the stove, the pipe and all are blacked + and polished with black-lead and turpentine; and it is an old custom of + neat house-wives to powder the stove-pipe with white sand from the dunes. + The sand is allowed to run through a little opening in the hand in a + series of fine wavy lines, forming a delicate pattern on the black pipe.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-11" id="linknote-11"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 11 (<a href="#linknoteref-11">return</a>)<br /> [ Epsom salts.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-12" id="linknote-12"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 12 (<a href="#linknoteref-12">return</a>)<br /> [ A corruption of the + French <i>allez!</i> + </p> + <h3> + THE END. + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Path of Life, by Stijn Streuvels + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PATH OF LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 8437-h.htm or 8437-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/4/3/8437/ + + +Text file produced by Eric Eldred, Thomas Berger, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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