The Widow Van Duijn, too, was listening in the greatest excitement, till she felt he was going beyond her comprehension altogether; and Anton stood, never taking his burning eyes from the master’s face, waiting for his sentence.
It came at last, after many a long circuit. Considering this, and weighing that, and giving its due prominence to this circumstance, and noticing why, and not forgetting how the two boys in the first-class, who alone had any claim to the prize, had learned what they had learned, and answered as they had answered, he thought he was acting in harmony with the esteemed head of the government, and all the gentlemen and ladies who had honoured the school with their presence, by handing the first prize herewith to the most industrious and highly gifted pupil—William Ochtenraat!
Therewith he handed the boy a handsomely bound book, with a gesture so powerful, so violent a swaying of his whole person, that one was reminded of Samson at the moment when he seized the pillars of the temple.
There was a sudden stillness in the spacious school building. The master looked at the Governor. The latter let his glance rest on William, who, more amazed than delighted, looked first at the glittering volume, and then at the deathly pale boy who sat next him, motionless, with clenched fists and set teeth.
Already Heer Doornik, mopping his face all the time with his handkerchief, was approaching the prize-winner to offer his congratulations,—already there were sounds of sniffling and rustling, caused by ladies and gentlemen rising to congratulate the parents, when Heer Ochtenraat slowly rose in his place, and, with a quiet gesture of his delicate white hand, asked for a hearing.
“William,” said the Governor, in his clear, resonant voice, “William, tell me honestly, have you earned that prize?”
One moment the boy hesitated, with a glance at the book.
“Well, my boy, give the book to the one who has earned it.”
Without stopping to think for one moment, the boy went up to Anton van Duijn, and put the book into his hand.
It needs a good deal to excite an East Indian audience, but when Heer Hendriks, with a pale face, and a suspicious look of moisture about his eyes, made his way forward, wrung Anton’s hand, and cried aloud, “Hurrah! three cheers for the Governor,” the universal enthusiasm found vent in long and loud cheering. Heer Ochtenraat immediately rose to go; he looked at the head-master coldly and sternly, and passed him without a word.