The mother continued her tirade, making use of the word "prodigue," prodigal.
"No, mother," said Stoffel, "that isn't it. He's behind in everything. He doesn't know yet how to handle money, that's it!"
"Yes. He doesn't know how to handle money! All the other children at his age--when they have a stiver they either save it or buy themselves something. And he--what does he do? He goes and gives it away! Boy, boy, will you never learn any sense?"
Walter was cut to the quick by the accusation of wastefulness and prodigality. In his eyes a prodigal was somebody, a man! "Prodigue, prodigue," he murmured. He knew the word.
In one of the bedrooms hung a series of crude, highly colored pictures illustrating the story of the prodigal son. The pictures were French; and a study of the titles convinced the family that "prodigue" could mean nothing but prodigal in the worst sense, i. e., "lost." Stoffel had maintained this proposition against one of his colleagues, till that one drew a lexicon on him.
After much argument it was decided to compromise on the "mistake" in the French Bible by allowing "prodigue" to have sometimes the meaning of "extravagant." Those pictures had afforded Walter much food for thought.
First picture: The "lost" or prodigal son tells his father good-bye. The old gentleman wears a purple coat. Very pretty--but the prodigal himself! A mantle floated about his shoulders--it seemed to be windy in the colonnade. It was princely; and his turkish trousers were of pure gold. At his side was a bent sabre, and on his head a turban, with a stone in it--certainly onyx, or sardonox, or a pearl, or a precious stone--or whatever it might be!
The old gentleman seemed to be out of humor; but no wonder--all those loaded camels, and the slaves, and all the accessories for that long, long journey! A negro, as black as pitch, was holding a horse by the rein. Another negro was holding the stirrup, and seemed to say: "Off to the Devil; prodigal, get on!"
What boy wouldn't have been a prodigal son? The bent sabre alone was worth the sin.
Second picture: Hm--hm. Wicked, wicked! Why, certainly; but not for Walter, who in his innocence attached no importance to the extravagant dresses of the "Juffrouwen." It was sufficient that all were eating and drinking bountifully, and that they were in good spirits and enjoying themselves. How prettily one of the girls, in glossy silk, was leaning over the shoulder of the "lost" one! How much nicer to be lost than found!--anyway, that was the impression the feast made on Walter. The true purpose of the picture--to deter people from a life of dissoluteness--escaped Walter entirely. Perhaps he knew what it meant; but in his heart he felt that it meant something else. What attracted him most was not the food and drink, under which the table "groaned," nor the sinful sensuality painted on the faces of the ladies. It was the freedom and unconventionality of the company that charmed him. In order to emphasize the idea of prodigality, the painter had allowed some big dogs to upset an open cask of wine.
