for
the children; they got unruly; and yesterday he actually had to give
Gustav a thrashing.

For that, too, Falk was made responsible apparently. And looking at my
Hermann's heavy, puffy, good-natured face, I knew he would not exert
himself till greatly exasperated, and, therefore, would thrash very
hard, and being fat would resent the necessity. How Falk had managed
to turn the girl's head was more difficult to understand. I supposed
Hermann would know. And then hadn't there been Miss Vanlo? It could not
be his silvery tongue, or the subtle seduction of his manner; he had no
more of what is called "manner" than an animal--which, however, on the
other hand, is never, and can never be called vulgar. Therefore it must
have been his bodily appearance, exhibiting a virility of nature
as exaggerated as his beard, and resembling a sort of constant
ruthlessness. It was seen in the very manner he lolled in the chair. He
meant no offence, but his intercourse was characterised by that sort of
frank disregard of susceptibilities a man of seven foot six, living in a
world of dwarfs, would naturally assume, without in the least wishing to
be unkind. But amongst men of his own stature, or nearly, this frank
use of his advantages, in such matters as the awful towage bills for
instance, caused much impotent gnashing of teeth. When attentively
considered it seemed appalling at times. He was a strange beast. But
maybe women liked it. Seen in that light he was well worth taming, and
I suppose every woman at the bottom of her heart considers herself as a
tamer of strange beasts. But Hermann arose with precipitation to carry
the news to his wife. I had barely the time, as he made for the cabin
door, to grab him by the seat of his inexpressibles. I begged him to
wait till Falk in person had spoken with him. There remained some small
matter to talk over, as I understood.

He sat down again at once, full of suspicion.

"What matter?" he said surlily. "I have had enough of his nonsense.
There's no matter at all, as he knows very well; the girl has nothing in
the world. She came to us in one thin dress when my brother died, and I
have a growing family."

"It can't be anything of that kind," I opined. "He's desperately
enamoured of your niece. I don't know why he did not say so before. Upon
my word, I believe it is because he was afraid to lose, perhaps, the
felicity of sitting near her on your quarter deck."

I intimated my conviction tha