e different. No doubt he would have sought a reconciliation
with the butcher's Keesje, forgiving him completely all his liberties
with "Holland nobility" and even presenting him a few slate pencils.

For that is the striking characteristic of spirits such as
Walter's. Whatever they are, they are that with all their might,
always going further in any direction than they would seem to be
warranted in doing by the mere external circumstances.

From such characters we could hope much, if through some chance--i. e.,
a natural cause, which we call chance, because we do not understand
it and are ashamed to admit our ignorance--if through some chance
they were not born among people who do not understand them, and,
therefore, mistreat them.

It is one of our peculiarities that we like to mistreat anyone
whose soul is differently organized from ours. How does the watch
move? asks the child, and cannot rest until he has torn apart the
wheels he could not understand. There the watch lies in pieces, and
the little miscreant excuses himself with the remark that he just
wanted to see how it was made.

CHAPTER XII

Walter sat with his elbows on the table, his chin resting in his
hands. He seemed to be deeply interested in Leentje's sewing, but
we shall see in a moment that his thoughts were elsewhere, and, too,
far away from III. 7, c.

They had forbidden her to speak to the shameless rascal, and only
occasionally, when Juffrouw Pieterse left the room, did she have an
opportunity to whisper to him a few words of comfort. To be sure,
she noticed that Walter was not so sad as we should expect one to be
who was caught in between the thrashing of yesterday and the priest of
to-morrow. This gentleman was to come to-morrow to settle the matter.

"But, Walter, how could you speak of burning cloisters!"

"Ah, I meant--sh!"

"And the Count--what had he done?"

"It was a Margrave--sh!"

"What sort of a count is that? I'll bet he was one out of another
house."

"Yes, it was Amalia's father--but that isn't it. I have something to
tell you, Leentje--sh!"

"Amalia--who is Amalia?"

"That was my bride, but--Leentje, I wanted to tell you something--sh!"

"Your bride! Are you mad, Walter? Your bride?"

"Yes, she was; but now no more. I was going to help her--but a duck
came--but that isn't it, Leentje. Now I see it all--sh. I swam by--sh!"

"Who, what? Swam by?"

"By Amalia. She sat on the rushes--now I understand it all