and this often proved highly necessary. Then also danger—a short while before my arrival a plot had been discovered to assassinate my predecessor and raise a rebellion—danger has a distinct attraction, especially when one is only twenty-two. This attraction naturally makes a man unfit at times for office or for the meticulous precision that is necessary for the proper management of money matters. Besides, I had all sorts of follies in my head . . .”
“Traoossa,”[1] Mrs. Havelaar called out to the servant.
“What is not required?”
“I had told them to prepare something else in the kitchen. . . . An omelette or something of the kind.”
“I see! and that’s no longer required when I start telling about my follies? You naughty wretch, Tine. Well, I’m content, but the gentlemen have a vote also. Verbrugge, what’s your choice, your share of the omelette, or the story?”
“That’s a difficult position for a polite man,” said Verbrugge.
“And I also would rather not choose,” added Duclari, “for it’s a question here of deciding between husband and wife, and: entre l’écorce et le bois il ne faut pas mettre le doigt.”
“I’ll help you out, gentlemen, the omelette is . . .”
“Mrs. Havelaar,” said the very courteous Duclari, “the omelette will surely be worth as much as . . .”
“The story! Oh, certainly, if it were worth anything! But there is an obstacle. . . .”
“I bet there is no sugar in the house yet,” exclaimed Verbrugge. “Well, please send to my place for anything you want.”
“There is sugar . . . among Mrs. Slotering’s things. No, that’s not what’s wanting. If the omelette were otherwise all right, that would be no obstacle, but . . .”
“What, then, has it fallen into the fire?”
“I wish it were true. No, it can’t fall into the fire. It is . . .
“For goodness’ sake then, Tine,” exclaimed Havelaar, “what is it?”
- ↑ “It is not required.”
