the firm determination to put an
end to his unworthy existence.

Fortunately, just after breakfast he was put to work on a job that
is calculated to reconcile one with life.

He had been tried and convicted, the verdict being unanimous. The
penalty was that he should wash his jacket till it was clean. He
entered upon the task with such enthusiasm that in an hour he was
running to his mother crying triumphantly:

"Look, mother! You can't see a trace of it now!"

This little conquest dispelled all the clouds that had darkened
his life.

There are plenty of people who would gladly fall into a barrel of
lemonade if they only understood the salutary effects of cleaning
a coat.

The poor unfortunate who has never washed his own clothes does not
know what life is.

I will ask her pardon, thought Walter; and he pictured it all
to himself, wondering whether it would do for him to fall at her
feet at Holsma's, in the presence of the one who had delivered the
message. Finally, however, he quieted himself with the thought that
Femke would probably not be at the doctor's very long. He hoped to be
able then to settle the matter quietly, when only the two concerned
were present. This was not courageous, to be sure; but his punishment
was already on the way.

CHAPTER XXVI

The events of an eventful Friday were at an end, as it seemed; and
Walter prepared to climb into the narrow bedstead, which he shared with
his brother Laurens. He was now in a tranquil frame of mind. He didn't
even have any desire to romp with Laurens, who, without laying claim to
geometrical knowledge, usually managed to find the diagonal of the bed.

It was Walter's intention to think over recent events again. He wished
to busy himself with others; he was tired of himself--at least he
thought so for a moment.

There was a prince, who distributed money among the people. Oh,
if I were only a prince!

That wasn't a bad thought. Under the same circumstances, most people
would have thought: Oh, if I could only have got some of the money!

The countess-palatine from--where from? Well it makes no
difference. She was in the museum and the papers said she was gracious,
very gracious.

I would do it too, thought Walter, if I were a countess-palatine. What
sort of a profession is that?

The king had given audiences--and a dinner--and had said--well, the
usual things. But for Walter it was new and interesting. The welfare of
the city seemed to lie