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diff --git a/869-h/869-h.htm b/869-h/869-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..72f9def --- /dev/null +++ b/869-h/869-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1247 @@ +<?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> + <title> + The Soul of Nicholas Snyders, Or the Miser Of Zandam, by Jerome K. Jerome + </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 xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's The Soul of Nicholas Snyders, by Jerome K. Jerome + +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 Soul of Nicholas Snyders + Or, The Miser Of Zandam + +Author: Jerome K. Jerome + +Release Date: July 27, 2008 [EBook #869] +Last Updated: October 8, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUL OF NICHOLAS SNYDERS *** + + + + +Produced by Ron Burkey, Amy Thomte, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE SOUL OF NICHOLAS SNYDERS,<br /> OR THE MISER OF ZANDAM + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Jerome K. Jerome + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + Author of “Paul Kelver,” “Three Men in a Boat,” etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + NEW YORK DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 1909 + </p> + <p> + COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY JEROME K. JEROME COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY DODD, MEAD + & COMPANY Published, September, 1908 + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + THE SOUL OF NICHOLAS SNYDERS,<br /> OR THE MISER OF ZANDAM + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Once upon a time in Zandam, which is by the Zuider Zee, there lived a + wicked man named Nicholas Snyders. He was mean and hard and cruel, and + loved but one thing in the world, and that was gold. And even that not for + its own sake. He loved the power gold gave him—the power to + tyrannize and to oppress, the power to cause suffering at his will. They + said he had no soul, but there they were wrong. All men own—or, to + speak more correctly, are owned by—a soul; and the soul of Nicholas + Snyders was an evil soul. He lived in the old windmill which still is + standing on the quay, with only little Christina to wait upon him and keep + house for him. Christina was an orphan whose parents had died in debt. + Nicholas, to Christina’s everlasting gratitude, had cleared their memory—it + cost but a few hundred florins—in consideration that Christina + should work for him without wages. Christina formed his entire household, + and only one willing visitor ever darkened his door, the widow Toelast. + Dame Toelast was rich and almost as great a miser as Nicholas himself. + “Why should not we two marry?” Nicholas had once croaked to the widow + Toelast. “Together we should be masters of all Zandam.” Dame Toelast had + answered with a cackling laugh; but Nicholas was never in haste. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon Nicholas Snyders sat alone at his desk in the centre of the + great semi-circular room that took up half the ground floor of the + windmill, and that served him for an office, and there came a knocking at + the outer door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” cried Nicholas Snyders. He spoke in a tone quite kind for + Nicholas Snyders. He felt so sure it was Jan knocking at the door—Jan + Van der Voort, the young sailor, now master of his own ship, come to + demand of him the hand of little Christina. In anticipation, Nicholas + Snyders tasted the joy of dashing Jan’s hopes to the ground; of hearing + him plead, then rave; of watching the growing pallor that would overspread + Jan’s handsome face as Nicholas would, point by point, explain to him the + consequences of defiance—how, firstly, Jan’s old mother should be + turned out of her home, his old father put into prison for debt; how, + secondly, Jan himself should be pursued without remorse, his ship be + bought over his head before he could complete the purchase. The interview + would afford to Nicholas Snyders sport after his own soul. Since Jan’s + return the day before, he had been looking forward to it. Therefore, + feeling sure it was Jan, he cried “Come in!” quite cheerily. + </p> + <p> + But it was not Jan. It was somebody Nicholas Snyders had never set eyes on + before. And neither, after that one visit, did Nicholas Snyders ever set + eyes upon him again. The light was fading, and Nicholas Snyders was not + the man to light candles before they were needed, so that he was never + able to describe with any precision the stranger’s appearance. Nicholas + thought he seemed an old man, but alert in all his movements; while his + eyes—the one thing about him Nicholas saw with any clearness—were + curiously bright and piercing. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” asked Nicholas Snyders, taking no pains to disguise his + disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “I am a pedlar,” answered the stranger. His voice was clear and not + unmusical, with just the suspicion of roguishness behind. + </p> + <p> + “Not wanting anything,” answered Nicholas Snyders drily. “Shut the door + and be careful of the step.” + </p> + <p> + But instead the stranger took a chair and drew it nearer, and, himself in + shadow, looked straight into Nicholas Snyders’ face and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Are you quite sure, Nicholas Snyders? Are you quite sure there is nothing + you require?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” growled Nicholas Snyders—“except the sight of your back.” + The stranger bent forward, and with his long, lean hand touched Nicholas + Snyders playfully upon the knee. “Wouldn’t you like a soul, Nicholas + Snyders?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Think of it,” continued the strange pedlar, before Nicholas could recover + power of speech. “For forty years you have drunk the joy of being mean and + cruel. Are you not tired of the taste, Nicholas Snyders? Wouldn’t you like + a change? Think of it, Nicholas Snyders—the joy of being loved, of + hearing yourself blessed, instead of cursed! Wouldn’t it be good fun, + Nicholas Snyders—just by way of a change? If you don’t like it, you + can return and be yourself again.” + </p> + <p> + What Nicholas Snyders, recalling all things afterwards, could never + understand was why he sat there, listening in patience to the stranger’s + talk; for, at the time, it seemed to him the jesting of a wandering fool. + But something about the stranger had impressed him. + </p> + <p> + “I have it with me,” continued the odd pedlar; “and as for price—” + The stranger made a gesture indicating dismissal of all sordid details. “I + look for my reward in watching the result of the experiment. I am + something of a philosopher. I take an interest in these matters. See.” The + stranger dived between his legs and produced from his pack a silver flask + of cunning workmanship and laid it on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Its flavour is not unpleasant,” explained the stranger. “A little bitter; + but one does not drink it by the goblet: a wineglassful, such as one would + of old Tokay, while the mind of both is fixed on the same thought: ‘May my + soul pass into him, may his pass into me!’ The operation is quite simple: + the secret lies within the drug.” The stranger patted the quaint flask as + though it had been some little dog. + </p> + <p> + “You will say: ‘Who will exchange souls with Nicholas Snyders?’” The + stranger appeared to have come prepared with an answer to all questions. + “My friend, you are rich; you need not fear. It is the possession men + value the least of all they have. Choose your soul and drive your bargain. + I leave that to you with one word of counsel only: you will find the young + readier than the old—the young, to whom the world promises all + things for gold. Choose you a fine, fair, fresh, young soul, Nicholas + Snyders; and choose it quickly. Your hair is somewhat grey, my friend. + Taste, before you die, the joy of living.” + </p> + <p> + The strange pedlar laughed and, rising, closed his pack. Nicholas Snyders + neither moved nor spoke, until with the soft clanging of the massive door + his senses returned to him. Then, seizing the flask the stranger had left + behind him, he sprang from his chair, meaning to fling it after him into + the street. But the flashing of the firelight on its burnished surface + stayed his hand. + </p> + <p> + “After all, the case is of value,” Nicholas chuckled, and put the flask + aside and, lighting the two tall candles, buried himself again in his + green-bound ledger. Yet still from time to time Nicholas Snyders’ eye + would wander to where the silver flask remained half hidden among dusty + papers. And later there came again a knocking at the door, and this time + it really was young Jan who entered. + </p> + <p> + Jan held out his great hand across the littered desk. + </p> + <p> + “We parted in anger, Nicholas Snyders. It was my fault. You were in the + right. I ask you to forgive me. I was poor. It was selfish of me to wish + the little maid to share with me my poverty. But now I am no longer poor.” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” responded Nicholas in kindly tone. “I have heard of it. So now + you are master and the owner of your ship—your very own.” + </p> + <p> + “My very own after one more voyage,” laughed Jan. “I have Burgomaster + Allart’s promise.” + </p> + <p> + “A promise is not a performance,” hinted Nicholas. “Burgomaster Allart is + not a rich man; a higher bid might tempt him. Another might step in + between you and become the owner.” + </p> + <p> + Jan only laughed. “Why, that would be the work of an enemy, which, God be + praised, I do not think that I possess.” + </p> + <p> + “Lucky lad!” commented Nicholas; “so few of us are without enemies. And + your parents, Jan, will they live with you?” + </p> + <p> + “We wished it,” answered Jan, “both Christina and I. But the mother is + feeble. The old mill has grown into her life.” + </p> + <p> + “I can understand,” agreed Nicholas. “The old vine torn from the old wall + withers. And your father, Jan; people will gossip. The mill is paying?” + </p> + <p> + Jan shook his head. “It never will again; and the debts haunt him. But all + that, as I tell him, is a thing of the past. His creditors have agreed to + look to me and wait.” + </p> + <p> + “All of them?” queried Nicholas. + </p> + <p> + “All of them I could discover,” laughed Jan. + </p> + <p> + Nicholas Snyders pushed back his chair and looked at Jan with a smile upon + his wrinkled face. “And so you and Christina have arranged it all?” + </p> + <p> + “With your consent, sir,” answered Jan. + </p> + <p> + “You will wait for that?” asked Nicholas. + </p> + <p> + “We should like to have it, sir.” Jan smiled, but the tone of his voice + fell agreeably on Nicholas Snyders’ ear. Nicholas Snyders loved best + beating the dog that, growled and showed its teeth. + </p> + <p> + “Better not wait for that,” said Nicholas Snyders. “You might have to wait + long.” + </p> + <p> + Jan rose, an angry flush upon his face. “So nothing changes you, Nicholas + Snyders. Have it your own way, then.” + </p> + <p> + “You will marry her in spite of me?” + </p> + <p> + “In spite of you and of your friends the fiends, and of your master the + Devil!” flung out Jan. For Jan had a soul that was generous and brave and + tender and excessively short-tempered. Even the best of souls have their + failings. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” said old Nicholas. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear it,” answered Jan. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry for your mother,” explained Nicholas. “The poor dame, I fear, + will be homeless in her old age. The mortgage shall be foreclosed, Jan, on + your wedding-day. I am sorry for your father, Jan. His creditors, Jan—you + have overlooked just one. I am sorry for him, Jan. Prison has always been + his dread. I am sorry even for you, my young friend. You will have to + begin life over again. Burgomaster Allart is in the hollow of my hand. I + have but to say the word, your ship is mine. I wish you joy of your bride, + my young friend. You must love her very dearly—you will be paying a + high price for her.” + </p> + <p> + It was Nicholas Snyders’ grin that maddened Jan. He sought for something + that, thrown straight at the wicked mouth, should silence it, and by + chance his hand lighted on the pedlar’s silver flask. In the same instance + Nicholas Snyders’ hand had closed upon it also. The grin had died away. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” commanded Nicholas Snyders. “Let us talk further.” And there + was that in his voice that compelled the younger man’s obedience. + </p> + <p> + “You wonder, Jan, why I seek always anger and hatred. I wonder at times + myself. Why do generous thoughts never come to me, as to other men! + Listen, Jan; I am in a whimsical mood. Such things cannot be, but it is a + whim of mine to think it might have been. Sell me your soul, Jan, sell me + your soul, that I, too, may taste this love and gladness that I hear + about. For a little while, Jan, only for a little while, and I will give + you all you desire.” + </p> + <p> + The old man seized his pen and wrote. + </p> + <p> + “See, Jan, the ship is yours beyond mishap; the mill goes free; your + father may hold up his head again. And all I ask, Jan, is that you drink + to me, willing the while that your soul may go from you and become the + soul of old Nicholas Snyders—for a little while, Jan, only for a + little while.” + </p> + <p> + With feverish hands the old man had drawn the stopper from the pedlar’s + flagon, had poured the wine into twin glasses. Jan’s inclination was to + laugh, but the old man’s eagerness was almost frenzy. Surely he was mad; + but that would not make less binding the paper he had signed. A true man + does not jest with his soul, but the face of Christina was shining down on + Jan from out the gloom. + </p> + <p> + “You will mean it?” whispered Nicholas Snyders. + </p> + <p> + “May my soul pass from me and enter into Nicholas Snyders!” answered Jan, + replacing his empty glass upon the table. And the two stood looking for a + moment into one another’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + And the high candles on the littered desk flickered and went out, as + though a breath had blown them, first one and then the other. + </p> + <p> + “I must be getting home,” came the voice of Jan from the darkness. “Why + did you blow out the candles?” + </p> + <p> + “We can light them again from the fire,” answered Nicholas. He did not add + that he had meant to ask that same question of Jan. He thrust them among + the glowing logs, first one and then the other; and the shadows crept back + into their corners. + </p> + <p> + “You will not stop and see Christina?” asked Nicholas. + </p> + <p> + “Not to-night,” answered Jan. + </p> + <p> + “The paper that I signed,” Nicholas reminded him—“you have it?” + </p> + <p> + “I had forgotten it,” Jan answered. + </p> + <p> + The old man took it from the desk and handed it to him. Jan thrust it into + his pocket and went out. Nicholas bolted the door behind him and returned + to his desk; sat long there, his elbow resting on the open ledger. + </p> + <p> + Nicholas pushed the ledger aside and laughed. “What foolery! As if such + things could be! The fellow must have bewitched me.” + </p> + <p> + Nicholas crossed to the fire and warmed his hands before the blaze. + “Still, I am glad he is going to marry the little lass. A good lad, a good + lad.” + </p> + <p> + Nicholas must have fallen asleep before the fire. When he opened his eyes, + it was to meet the grey dawn. He felt cold, stiff, hungry, and decidedly + cross. Why had not Christina woke him up and given him his supper. Did she + think he had intended to pass the night on a wooden chair? The girl was an + idiot. He would go upstairs and tell her through the door just what he + thought of her. + </p> + <p> + His way upstairs led through the kitchen. To his astonishment, there sat + Christina, asleep before the burnt-out grate. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word,” muttered Nicholas to himself, “people in this house don’t + seem to know what beds are for!” + </p> + <p> + But it was not Christina, so Nicholas told himself. Christina had the look + of a frightened rabbit: it had always irritated him. This girl, even in + her sleep, wore an impertinent expression—a delightfully impertinent + expression. Besides, this girl was pretty—marvellously pretty. + Indeed, so pretty a girl Nicholas had never seen in all his life before. + Why had the girls, when Nicholas was young, been so entirely different! A + sudden bitterness seized Nicholas: it was as though he had just learnt + that long ago, without knowing it, he had been robbed. + </p> + <p> + The child must be cold. Nicholas fetched his fur-lined cloak and wrapped + it about her. + </p> + <p> + There was something else he ought to do. The idea came to him while + drawing the cloak around her shoulders, very gently, not to disturb her—something + he wanted to do, if only he could think what it was. The girl’s lips were + parted. She appeared to be speaking to him, asking him to do this thing—or + telling him not to do it. Nicholas could not be sure which. Half a dozen + times he turned away, and half a dozen times stole back to where she sat + sleeping with that delightfully impertinent expression on her face, her + lips parted. But what she wanted, or what it was he wanted, Nicholas could + not think. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps Christina would know. Perhaps Christina would know who she was and + how she got there. Nicholas climbed the stairs, swearing at them for + creaking. + </p> + <p> + Christina’s door was open. No one was in the room; the bed had not been + slept upon. Nicholas descended the creaking stairs. + </p> + <p> + The girl was still asleep. Could it be Christina herself? Nicholas + examined the delicious features one by one. Never before, so far as he + could recollect, had he seen the girl; yet around her neck—Nicholas + had not noticed it before—lay Christina’s locket, rising and falling + as she breathed. Nicholas knew it well; the one thing belonging to her + mother Christina had insisted on keeping. The one thing about which she + had ever defied him. She would never have parted with that locket. It must + be Christina herself. But what had happened to her? Or to himself. + Remembrance rushed in upon him. The odd pedlar! The scene with Jan! But + surely all that had been a dream? Yet there upon the littered desk still + stood the pedlar’s silver flask, together with the twin stained glasses. + </p> + <p> + Nicholas tried to think, but his brain was in a whirl. A ray of sunshine + streaming through the window fell across the dusty room. Nicholas had + never seen the sun, that he could recollect. Involuntarily he stretched + his hands towards it, felt a pang of grief when it vanished, leaving only + the grey light. He drew the rusty bolts, flung open the great door. A + strange world lay before him, a new world of lights and shadows, that + wooed him with their beauty—a world of low, soft voices that called + to him. There came to him again that bitter sense of having been robbed. + </p> + <p> + “I could have been so happy all these years,” murmured old Nicholas to + himself. “It is just the little town I could have loved—so quaint, + so quiet, so homelike. I might have had friends, old cronies, children of + my own maybe—” + </p> + <p> + A vision of the sleeping Christina flashed before his eyes. She had come + to him a child, feeling only gratitude towards him. Had he had eyes with + which to see her, all things might have been different. + </p> + <p> + Was it too late? He is not so old—not so very old. New life is in + his veins. She still loves Jan, but that was the Jan of yesterday. In the + future, Jan’s every word and deed will be prompted by the evil soul that + was once the soul of Nicholas Snyders—that Nicholas Snyders + remembers well. Can any woman love that, let the case be as handsome as + you will? + </p> + <p> + Ought he, as an honest man, to keep the soul he had won from Jan by what + might be called a trick? Yes, it had been a fair bargain, and Jan had + taken his price. Besides, it was not as if Jan had fashioned his own soul; + these things are chance. Why should one man be given gold, and another be + given parched peas? He has as much right to Jan’s soul as Jan ever had. He + is wiser, he can do more good with it. It was Jan’s soul that loved + Christina; let Jan’s soul win her if it can. And Jan’s soul, listening to + the argument, could not think of a word to offer in opposition. + </p> + <p> + Christina was still asleep when Nicholas re-entered the kitchen. He + lighted the fire and cooked the breakfast and then aroused her gently. + There was no doubt it was Christina. The moment her eyes rested on old + Nicholas, there came back to her the frightened rabbit look that had + always irritated him. It irritated him now, but the irritation was against + himself. + </p> + <p> + “You were sleeping so soundly when I came in last night—” Christina + commenced. + </p> + <p> + “And you were afraid to wake me,” Nicholas interrupted her. “You thought + the old curmudgeon would be cross. Listen, Christina. You paid off + yesterday the last debt your father owed. It was to an old sailor—I + had not been able to find him before. Not a cent more do you owe, and + there remains to you, out of your wages, a hundred florins. It is yours + whenever you like to ask me for it.” + </p> + <p> + Christina could not understand, neither then nor during the days that + followed; nor did Nicholas enlighten her. For the soul of Jan had entered + into a very wise old man, who knew that the best way to live down the past + is to live boldly the present. All that Christina could be sure of was + that the old Nicholas Snyders had mysteriously vanished, that in his place + remained a new Nicholas, who looked at her with kindly eyes—frank + and honest, compelling confidence. Though Nicholas never said so, it came + to Christina that she herself, her sweet example, her ennobling influence + it was that had wrought this wondrous change. And to Christina the + explanation seemed not impossible—seemed even pleasing. + </p> + <p> + The sight of his littered desk was hateful to him. Starting early in the + morning, Nicholas would disappear for the entire day, returning in the + evening tired but cheerful, bringing with him flowers that Christina + laughed at, telling him they were weeds. But what mattered names? To + Nicholas they were beautiful. In Zandam the children ran from him, the + dogs barked after him. So Nicholas, escaping through byways, would wander + far into the country. Children in the villages around came to know a kind + old fellow who loved to linger, his hands resting on his staff, watching + their play, listening to their laughter; whose ample pockets were + storehouses of good things. Their elders, passing by, would whisper to one + another how like he was in features to wicked old Nick, the miser of + Zandam, and would wonder where he came from. Nor was it only the faces of + the children that taught his lips to smile. It troubled him at first to + find the world so full of marvellously pretty girls—of pretty women + also, all more or less lovable. It bewildered him. Until he found that, + notwithstanding, Christina remained always in his thoughts the prettiest, + the most lovable of them all. Then every pretty face rejoiced him: it + reminded him of Christina. + </p> + <p> + On his return the second day, Christina had met him with sadness in her + eyes. Farmer Beerstraater, an old friend of her father’s, had called to + see Nicholas; not finding Nicholas, had talked a little with Christina. A + hardhearted creditor was turning him out of his farm. Christina pretended + not to know that the creditor was Nicholas himself, but marvelled that + such wicked men could be. Nicholas said nothing, but the next day Farmer + Beerstraater had called again, all smiles, blessings, and great wonder. + </p> + <p> + “But what can have come to him?” repeated Farmer Beerstraater over and + over. + </p> + <p> + Christina had smiled and answered that perhaps the good God had touched + his heart; but thought to herself that perhaps it had been the good + influence of another. The tale flew. Christina found herself besieged on + every hand, and, finding her intercessions invariably successful, grew day + by day more pleased with herself, and by consequence more pleased with + Nicholas Snyders. For Nicholas was a cunning old gentleman. Jan’s soul in + him took delight in undoing the evil the soul of Nicholas had wrought. But + the brain of Nicholas Snyders that remained to him whispered: “Let the + little maid think it is all her doing.” + </p> + <p> + The news reached the ears of Dame Toelast. The same evening saw her seated + in the inglenook opposite Nicholas Snyders, who smoked and seemed bored. + </p> + <p> + “You are making a fool of yourself, Nicholas Snyders,” the Dame told him. + “Everybody is laughing at you.” + </p> + <p> + “I had rather they laughed than cursed me,” growled Nicholas. + </p> + <p> + “Have you forgotten all that has passed between us?” demanded the Dame. + </p> + <p> + “Wish I could,” sighed Nicholas. + </p> + <p> + “At your age—” commenced the Dame. + </p> + <p> + “I am feeling younger than I ever felt in all my life,” Nicholas + interrupted her. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t look it,” commented the Dame. + </p> + <p> + “What do looks matter?” snapped Nicholas. “It is the soul of a man that is + the real man.” + </p> + <p> + “They count for something, as the world goes,” explained the Dame. “Why, + if I liked to follow your example and make a fool of myself, there are + young men, fine young men, handsome young men—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t let me stand in your way,” interposed Nicholas quickly. “As you + say, I am old and I have a devil of a temper. There must be many better + men than I am, men more worthy of you.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t say there are not,” returned the Dame: “but nobody more suitable. + Girls for boys, and old women for old men. I haven’t lost my wits, + Nicholas Snyders, if you have. When you are yourself again—” + </p> + <p> + Nicholas Snyders sprang to his feet. “I am myself,” he cried, “and intend + to remain myself! Who dares say I am not myself?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” retorted the Dame with exasperating coolness. “Nicholas Snyders is + not himself when at the bidding of a pretty-faced doll he flings his money + out of the window with both hands. He is a creature bewitched, and I am + sorry for him. She’ll fool you for the sake of her friends till you + haven’t a cent left, and then she’ll laugh at you. When you are yourself, + Nicholas Snyders, you will be crazy with yourself—remember that.” + And Dame Toelast marched out and slammed the door behind her. + </p> + <p> + “Girls for boys, and old women for old men.” The phrase kept ringing in + his ears. Hitherto his new-found happiness had filled his life, leaving no + room for thought. But the old Dame’s words had sown the seed of + reflection. + </p> + <p> + Was Christina fooling him? The thought was impossible. Never once had she + pleaded for herself, never once for Jan. The evil thought was the creature + of Dame Toelast’s evil mind. Christina loved him. Her face brightened at + his coming. The fear of him had gone out of her; a pretty tyranny had + replaced it. But was it the love that he sought? Jan’s soul in old Nick’s + body was young and ardent. It desired Christina not as a daughter, but as + a wife. Could it win her in spite of old Nick’s body? The soul of Jan was + an impatient soul. Better to know than to doubt. + </p> + <p> + “Do not light the candles; let us talk a little by the light of the fire + only,” said Nicholas. And Christina, smiling, drew her chair towards the + blaze. But Nicholas sat in the shadow. + </p> + <p> + “You grow more beautiful every day, Christina,” said Nicholas-“sweeter and + more womanly. He will be a happy man who calls you wife.” + </p> + <p> + The smile passed from Christina’s face. “I shall never marry,” she + answered. “Never is a long word, little one.” + </p> + <p> + “A true woman does not marry the man she does not love.” + </p> + <p> + “But may she not marry the man she does?” smiled Nicholas. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes she may not,” Christina explained. + </p> + <p> + “And when is that?” + </p> + <p> + Christina’s face was turned away. “When he has ceased to love her.” + </p> + <p> + The soul in old Nick’s body leapt with joy. “He is not worthy of you, + Christina. His new fortune has changed him. Is it not so? He thinks only + of money. It is as though the soul of a miser had entered into him. He + would marry even Dame Toelast for the sake of her gold-bags and her broad + lands and her many mills, if only she would have him. Cannot you forget + him?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall never forget him. I shall never love another man. I try to hide + it; and often I am content to find there is so much in the world that I + can do. But my heart is breaking.” She rose and, kneeling beside him, + clasped her hands around him. “I am glad you have let me tell you,” she + said. “But for you I could not have borne it. You are so good to me.” + </p> + <p> + For answer he stroked with his withered hand the golden hair that fell + disordered about his withered knees. She raised her eyes to him; they were + filled with tears, but smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot understand,” she said. “I think sometimes that you and he must + have changed souls. He is hard and mean and cruel, as you used to be.” She + laughed, and the arms around him tightened for a moment. “And now you are + kind and tender and great, as once he was. It is as if the good God had + taken away my lover from me to give to me a father.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, Christina,” he said. “It is the soul that is the man, not + the body. Could you not love me for my new soul?” + </p> + <p> + “But I do love you,” answered Christina, smiling through her tears. + </p> + <p> + “Could you as a husband?” The firelight fell upon her face. Nicholas, + holding it between his withered hands, looked into it long and hard; and + reading what he read there, laid it back against his breast and soothed it + with his withered hand. + </p> + <p> + “I was jesting, little one,” he said. “Girls for boys, and old women for + old men. And so, in spite of all, you still love Jan?” + </p> + <p> + “I love him,” answered Christina. “I cannot help it.” + </p> + <p> + “And if he would, you would marry him, let his soul be what it may?” + </p> + <p> + “I love him,” answered Christina. “I cannot help it.” + </p> + <p> + Old Nicholas sat alone before the dying fire. Is it the soul or the body + that is the real man? The answer was not so simple as he had thought it. + </p> + <p> + “Christina loved Jan”—so Nicholas mumbled to the dying fire—“when + he had the soul of Jan. She loves him still, though he has the soul of + Nicholas Snyders. When I asked her if she could love me, it was terror I + read in her eyes, though Jan’s soul is now in me; she divined it. It must + be the body that is the real Jan, the real Nicholas. If the soul of + Christina entered into the body of Dame Toelast, should I turn from + Christina, from her golden hair, her fathomless eyes, her asking lips, to + desire the shrivelled carcass of Dame Toelast? No; I should still shudder + at the thought of her. Yet when I had the soul of Nicholas Snyders, I did + not loathe her, while Christina was naught to me. It must be with the soul + that we love, else Jan would still love Christina and I should be Miser + Nick. Yet here am I loving Christina, using Nicholas Snyders’ brain and + gold to thwart Nicholas Snyders’ every scheme, doing everything that I + know will make him mad when he comes back into his own body; while Jan + cares no longer for Christina, would marry Dame Toelast for her broad + lands, her many mills. Clearly it is the soul that is the real man. Then + ought I not to be glad, thinking I am going back into my own body, knowing + that I shall wed Christina? But I am not glad; I am very miserable. I + shall not go with Jan’s soul, I feel it; my own soul will come back to me. + I shall be again the hard, cruel, mean old man I was before, only now I + shall be poor and helpless. The folks will laugh at me, and I shall curse + them, powerless to do them evil. Even Dame Toelast will not want me when + she learns all. And yet I must do this thing. So long as Jan’s soul is in + me, I love Christina better than myself. I must do this for her sake. I + love her—I cannot help it.” + </p> + <p> + Old Nicholas rose, took from the place, where a month before he had hidden + it, the silver flask of cunning workmanship. + </p> + <p> + “Just two more glassfuls left,” mused Nicholas, as he gently shook the + flask against his ear. He laid it on the desk before him, then opened once + again the old green ledger, for there still remained work to be done. + </p> + <p> + He woke Christina early. “Take these letters, Christina,” he commanded. + “When you have delivered them all, but not before, go to Jan; tell him I + am waiting here to see him on a matter of business.” He kissed her and + seemed loth to let her go. + </p> + <p> + “I shall only be a little while,” smiled Christina. + </p> + <p> + “All partings take but a little while,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + Old Nicholas had foreseen the trouble he would have. Jan was content, had + no desire to be again a sentimental young fool, eager to saddle himself + with a penniless wife. Jan had other dreams. + </p> + <p> + “Drink, man, drink!” cried Nicholas impatiently, “before I am tempted to + change my mind. Christina, provided you marry her, is the richest bride in + Zandam. There is the deed; read it; and read quickly.” + </p> + <p> + Then Jan consented, and the two men drank. And there passed a breath + between them as before; and Jan with his hands covered his eyes a moment. + </p> + <p> + It was a pity, perhaps, that he did so, for in that moment Nicholas + snatched at the deed that lay beside Jan on the desk. The next instant it + was blazing in the fire. + </p> + <p> + “Not so poor as you thought!” came the croaking voice of Nicholas. “Not so + poor as you thought! I can build again, I can build again!” And the + creature, laughing hideously, danced with its withered arms spread out + before the blaze, lest Jan should seek to rescue Christina’s burning dowry + before it was destroyed. + </p> + <p> + Jan did not tell Christina. In spite of all Jan could say, she would go + back. Nicholas Snyders drove her from the door with curses. She could not + understand. The only thing clear was that Jan had come back to her. + </p> + <p> + “‘Twas a strange madness that seized upon me,” Jan explained. “Let the + good sea breezes bring us health.” + </p> + <p> + So from the deck of Jan’s ship they watched old Zandam till it vanished + into air. + </p> + <p> + Christina cried a little at the thought of never seeing it again; but Jan + comforted her and later new faces hid the old. + </p> + <p> + And old Nicholas married Dame Toelast, but, happily, lived to do evil only + for a few years longer. + </p> + <p> + Long after, Jan told Christina the whole story, but it sounded very + improbable, and Christina—though, of course, she did not say so—did + not quite believe it, but thought Jan was trying to explain away that + strange month of his life during which he had wooed Dame Toelast. Yet it + certainly was strange that Nicholas, for the same short month, had been so + different from his usual self. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” thought Christina, “if I had not told him I loved Jan, he would + not have gone back to his old ways. Poor old gentleman! No doubt it was + despair.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The Soul of Nicholas Snyders, by Jerome K. 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