Verlaan made a motion as if to remove the intruder; but the girl stopped him with a look. Then she laid her free hand on Walter's head, saying simply:
"Another descendant of Kopperlith!" growled the republican. The young people have strange ideas about how to spend the night."
When Walter came to his senses, he was in the street again. The carriage had driven away--whether with her, or without her; whether with the two men, or without them--that he did not know. It made no difference to him: she had called him "brother," seriously, solemnly. She had spoken clearly and distinctly.
"O God! I thank thee. Thou art kind and compassionate. I didn't know that Femke could speak like that. She must have felt it down in her heart."
To-morrow, he thought, he would become immensely wealthy--in "business"--and, of course, he was going to be a king again, and still more: For Femke he would be more than a brother! Juffrouw Laps had awakened in him--well, something, he did not know himself what it was. His heart rejoiced; he walked upon stilts, as tired as he was, and wondered that his head did not bump against the clouds.
For anyone in Walter's present mood, there are only two things in the world; self, and--nothingness!
Walter looked about him. "Butter Market," he read on a sign. He noticed that in the street socks could be bought, wagons hired, etc., etc.
But what did it all mean? Nothing. He had kissed Femke's hand!
It is too bad that the world did not sink out of existence on that summer night.
If Walter had noticed such an occurrence, he might have asked if Femke was hurt; otherwise the phenomenon would not have disturbed him.
The reader will understand, of course, that on this eventful night the world did not go down.
Walter forgave the sun for rising. He even excused the Butter Market for being such a hot place; but it was difficult for him to convince himself that it was not all a dream.
A new feeling took possession of him. His ambitious plans of a material nature receded into the background of consciousness. His one desire now was to love Femke--and win her love. Those continents that were expecting salvation from him might wait.
He thought of Femke and her soft hand. Never had her hand felt like that. Formerly it had seemed harder and rougher; but, of course, he had just been mistaken about it. He imagined, too, that hitherto he had not marked her voice well, nor her carriage. Surely, he had never seen the true Femke till to-night--better, this morning.