Walter Pieterse Part 43

"Down with the tyrants! We were born free. True Dutch hearts----"

"Sh! The young lady----"

"What? That girl? What then?"

"Sh! The daughter of--but don't say a word. Damme if it isn't so--the daughter of M'neer--Kopperlith!"

"Kopperlith on Keizersgracht? What are you talking about, man! Kopperlith--on Keizersgracht!"

"Yes, of course. Come, we're going."

"His daughter? His----natural daughter?"

"That's right. You understand it now; but keep quiet about it."

The true Dutch hearts and republicans paid and left the bar.

It was a sudden whim of Klaas Verlaan's to make his ward a child of Keizersgracht; but it brought him in more ducats than he cared to admit afterward.

Kopperlith? Kopperlith? on Keizersgracht? Femke on Keizersgracht! And on the day after to-morrow he was to begin work for this wealthy gentleman.

His head swam. Was he still Walter Pieterse? He doubted it. Before he had quite come to himself, he was forced through the door with other late stragglers. It was time for Mrs. Goremest to close.

The street was comparatively quiet now. Walter remained near the "Herberge," which to him was a sort of temple where his G.o.ddess was being worshiped. Now and then somebody else was pitched out the door, who would have been glad to stay longer. It was not every day that one got an opportunity to see a daughter of M'neer Kopperlith. Some wanted to join the triumvirate of Verlaan, the republican speaker, and Mrs. Goremest; but the three felt themselves strong enough to do the work and share the rewards.

At last the outflow ceased, and Walter was just going to peep through the curtains of the gla.s.s door, when the door opened again and the republican emerged. Walter heard Klaas call to him:

"There on the corner in Paarden Street, you know. If it costs a dollar more, that's all right. Tell the cabby----"

Walter understood. The republican was to get a cab--for Femke?

Walter waited. In the meanwhile, Mrs. Goremest had locked the door and drawn the curtains, so that it was impossible for him to look in now.

In a short time a carriage drove up, and the republican sprang out of it. The door of Mrs. Goremest's establishment opened again, and Klaas Verlaan with the ostensible daughter of Kopperlith appeared.

"Femke, I am here!" Walter cried, hurrying to her. "I am here. Oh, Femke, don't go with the strange men!"

"What in the devil are you doing here again!" snorted Verlaan, seizing Walter by the collar to pull him back into the restaurant. "What do you want? And who are you?"

"Femke, don't go with the strange men. I will take you home, I, Walter."

"The boy is weak in the upper story," affirmed Mrs. Goremest. "He's been bellowing around her the whole evening like a calf, and he hasn't spent a doit."

Walter reached for Femke's hand; and then he noticed how curiously she was rigged out. She was completely covered. Of her head, face, shoulders, figure--nothing was to be seen. Mrs. Goremest had contributed her cloak; but what would one not do for a Kopperlith? Still, she was saving: Only the stump of one tallow candle was burning. It flickered strangely, giving to everything a ghostly appearance.

"Is it you, Erich?" the girl asked.

"Femke, Femke, for G.o.d's sake, don't go with those strange men!"

Tearing himself away from Verlaan, he threw himself at Femke's feet. He pulled aside her cloak and covered her hand with tears and kisses.

"Just like I tell you," declared Mrs. Goremest. "The boy is as crazy as a bedbug."

"Femke, I will never deny you again. Strike me, tread on me, kill me, but--don't go with those strange men."

"Light!" cried the girl peremptorily--a word that even a Dutchman understands.

The republican took the candle from the counter and held it so that the light fell on Walter's face. The boy was still kneeling. Through an opening in her hood the girl looked down on him and was silent. She did not withdraw the hand that Walter held closely pressed to his lips.

Verlaan made a motion as if to remove the intruder; but the girl stopped him with a look. Then she laid her free hand on Walter's head, saying simply:

"My brother!"

"Another descendant of Kopperlith!" growled the republican. The young people have strange ideas about how to spend the night."

When Walter came to his senses, he was in the street again. The carriage had driven away--whether with her, or without her; whether with the two men, or without them--that he did not know. It made no difference to him: she had called him "brother," seriously, solemnly. She had spoken clearly and distinctly.

"O G.o.d! I thank thee. Thou art kind and compa.s.sionate. I didn't know that Femke could speak like that. She must have felt it down in her heart."

To-morrow, he thought, he would become immensely wealthy--in "business"--and, of course, he was going to be a king again, and still more: For Femke he would be more than a brother! Juffrouw Laps had awakened in him--well, something, he did not know himself what it was. His heart rejoiced; he walked upon stilts, as tired as he was, and wondered that his head did not b.u.mp against the clouds.

CHAPTER XXIX

For anyone in Walter's present mood, there are only two things in the world; self, and--nothingness!

Walter looked about him. "b.u.t.ter Market," he read on a sign. He noticed that in the street socks could be bought, wagons hired, etc., etc.

But what did it all mean? Nothing. He had kissed Femke's hand!

It is too bad that the world did not sink out of existence on that summer night.

If Walter had noticed such an occurrence, he might have asked if Femke was hurt; otherwise the phenomenon would not have disturbed him.

The reader will understand, of course, that on this eventful night the world did not go down.

Walter forgave the sun for rising. He even excused the b.u.t.ter Market for being such a hot place; but it was difficult for him to convince himself that it was not all a dream.

A new feeling took possession of him. His ambitious plans of a material nature receded into the background of consciousness. His one desire now was to love Femke--and win her love. Those continents that were expecting salvation from him might wait.

He thought of Femke and her soft hand. Never had her hand felt like that. Formerly it had seemed harder and rougher; but, of course, he had just been mistaken about it. He imagined, too, that hitherto he had not marked her voice well, nor her carriage. Surely, he had never seen the true Femke till to-night--better, this morning.

But--Klaas Verlaan and his rough companions! What did all that gab about M'neer Kopperlith mean? There were other questions too; but--Femke had called him brother; and that was one thing which with him was as firm as the rock of Gibraltar.

Brooding thus, he slipped along through the streets. Weak and tired, he came to the "Dam." Here he saw a long row of carriages. The coachmen sat in their places waiting for the princely guests, who had wanted to see a Holland sunrise. The sun was already in sight; but there were no princes and princesses to see him. A few laborers were looking on indifferently.