Stories by Foreign Authors: Polish, Greek, Belgian, Hungarian Part 11

"Riekje," said Dolf, licking his lips in a greedy fashion, "a kiss like that is better than ryspap."

"Nelle, let us do the same thing," said Tobias. "I delight to see them so happy."

"Willingly," said Nelle. "Were we not the same in our own kissing days?"

"Ah! Nelle, they are always kissing days when there are two, and when there is some little spot on earth where they can make a peaceful home."

Tobias kissed his wife's cheeks; then, in her turn, Nelle gave him two big kisses which resounded like the snapping of dry firewood.

"Riekje," Dolf whispered, "I shall always love you."

"Dolf," replied Riekje, "I shall love you till death."

"I am two years older than you are, Riekje. When you were ten I was twelve, and I think I loved you then, but not so much as now."

"No, dear, you have only known me since last May. All the rest is not true. Tell me, Dolf, that all the rest is not true. I must hear it, that I may love you without any feeling of shame." As Riekje leaned against her husband's breast, she threw herself back a little, and it was evident that she would soon be a mother.

"Come, children," cried maman Nelle, "it's time now to make the batter."

She reached down an iron pan, lined with shining white enamel, poured in the flour, the eggs, and the milk. After turning up her sleeves over her brown arms, she whipped all vigorously together. When she had beaten the batter well, she placed the pan on a chair near the fire and covered it with a cloth that it might rise. Tobias took down the frying-pan, greased it with a little lard, and put it on the stove for a moment to warm, so that the batter might brown all over equally.

Riekje and Dolf, sitting side by side on the same bench, took some apples from a basket, cored, and afterwards sliced them. Then Nelle went slyly to fetch a second saucepan from the cupboard and placed it on the fire; she poured in some warm water, adding flour, thyme, and laurel leaves. Dolf noticed that the saucepan contained something else, but Nelle covered it up so quickly that he could not tell whether it were meat or cabbage. He was puzzled and tried to guess.

Gradually the contents began to boil, and a thin, brown smoke escaped from the lid which bubbled up and down. Dolf stretched his nose towards the stove and opened his nostrils wide enough for a nut to rest in each, but still he could not define the smell.

When maman Nelle went to lift the lid to see if the contents were cooking properly, he stood on tip-toe behind her back, making himself, for the fun of the thing, first quite short, and then quite tall.

Riekje laughed quietly as she looked out of the corner of her eye.

Suddenly Dolf gave a cry to surprise his mother, but Nelle had seen him come up, and just at the moment when he thought to look into the pot she put down the lid and nodded to him:

"Who's caught now, Dolf?" But he cried out, laughing; "I saw that time, mother. It's Slipper's old cat that you have put into the stew-pan, with some candle-grease."

"Yes," replied Nelle, "and next time I shall fry mice. Go and set the table, and leave me alone you bad fellow."

Dolf went quietly into the closet, leading from the cabin. Choosing a very white and well-starched shirt he put it on over his clothes and came back flapping the tails.

When Nelle saw him she put her hands to her hips and laughed till the tears streamed down her face; Riekje clapped her hands and laughed too.

Tobias remained serious, and, while Dolf walked up and down the room, asking Nelle if she would not have him for a cook, he took the plates out of the cupboard and began to rub them on a corner of the shirt.

Then the good Nelle fell into a chair and slapped her knee with her hand as she rocked herself backwards and forwards. At last the table was spread; the plates shone round and bright as the moon in water, while the pewter forks beside them were bright as silver.

Nelle opened the saucepan for the last time, tasted the gravy, and raising the big tin spoon, in command, cried:

"Come to table. Now you can enjoy yourselves."

They moved the big chest up to the table, for there were two chairs only, and Dolf sat on it near Riekje. Tobias took a chair, placed another beside him for Nelle, stretched out his legs and crossed his hands over his stomach. Then a cloud of smoke rose up to the wooden roof and the saucepan appeared on the table, making a sound like the melting of snow in the sun.

"It's Slipper's cat, I knew it was," cried Dolf, when Nelle had taken off the lid.

Each held out his plate and Nelle, looking into the pot, produced some brown meat, cut into pieces, which she poured on to the plates with plenty of gravy. Dolf looked carefully at the pieces which Nelle gave him, smelt them, and after a moment's pause, brought his fist down on the table and cried:

"G.o.d forgive me, Riekje, it's scheisels."

It was indeed ox tripe prepared in the Flemish manner, with liver, heart and lungs. Dolf put his fork into the biggest pieces first, and as he swallowed them, rubbed his hands over his stomach to show his approval.

"Nelle is a capital cook," said Tobias. "I know King Leopold eats scheisels cooked in wine, but Nelle makes them just as good with water."

"This is indeed a fine Saint Nicholas we are keeping," said Dolf to his wife, smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "We shall always remember eating tripe on St. Nicholas day this year."

Nelle now got up and pushed the frying-pan on the fire. She took care first to rake out the ashes and to put some f.a.gots of wood on the flames. When the stove began to roar again Nelle became serious and uncovered her batter.

It had risen to the top of the pan, and was rich, thick, and fragrant, with here and there little bubbles on its surface. Nelle plunged a big spoon into the beautiful, deep ma.s.s, and when she drew it out long threads hung from it on all sides. The frying-pan hissed and bubbled as the batter was poured on to the brown b.u.t.ter around the slices of apple which Nelle had carefully laid in first. When the pancake began to brown at the edges it was tossed into the air by a clever twist of the arm. Dolf and Tobias clapped their hands and Riekje admired Nelle's dexterity.

"A plate, quick!" The first koekebakke was spread out, golden and juicy, the color of a fried sole. Who would have this first one? It should be for Tobias; Tobias pa.s.sed it on to Riekje, and the young girl cut it in pieces and shared it with Dolf.

Tobias watched them both eat it with pleasure, then said to Nelle: "Ah!

my wife, I see that the koekebakken are as good as when you made them for me the first time."

In grat.i.tude for these kindly words a big juicy pancake, round as a quoit, fell on to his plate. "The sun shines on my plate just as I see it shine on the water from the bridge," he cried out.

More batter was quickly poured into the frying-pan, the b.u.t.ter bubbled, the fire roared, and round pancakes fell on the table as tench.

"Now it's my turn, mother," cried Dolf, when the bowl was almost empty.

Nelle sat down near Tobias and ate the two pancakes which she had kept for herself, because they were not quite so perfect as the others. Dolf poured the batter into the frying-pan, but not in a ring, as Nelle did, for his idea was to make a mannikin such as are to be seen in the bakers' shop windows on the eve of St. Nicholas. The body and head were soon visible; then came the arms and legs. Dolf, leaning over his work, carefully guided the spoon, for fear of pouring the mixture too quickly or too slowly. Suddenly he uttered a proud cry and slid the absurd figure on to Riekje's plate, but no sooner did it touch the earthenware than it broke in two, and ran into an indistinguishable ma.s.s. He tried again and again, until the mannikin could stand on its legs. Then he gave him a slice of apple for a head, to make him look more natural.

"My lad," Tobias said to his son, "in the corner among the shavings you will find an old bottle of schiedam which I brought from Holland, along with three others; they have been drunk, there is only this one left.

Bring it here."

Dolf obeyed, and Nelle took out some small gla.s.ses. Tobias uncorked the bottle, and filled two of them, one for himself and one for Dolf.

Anyone could see that it was good old schiedam, for Tobias and his son nodded their heads and smacked their lips with pleasure.

"Ah! my daughter," said Nelle, "it will be a happy day for us all in two years' time, when a little sabot stands in the hearth filled with carrots and turnips."

"Yes, Riekje, it will be a happy day for us all," said Dolf, closing his big hands over hers.

Riekje raised her eyes, in which stood a tear, and said softly:

"Dolf, it's a good heart you have."

He sat down beside her and threw his arm round her waist:

"I am neither good nor bad, my Riekje, but I love you with all my heart."

Riekje kissed him.

"Dolf dear, when I think of the past I hardly know how I can still care for life."

"The past is past, my beloved Riekje," replied Dolf.