doctor, "my chief called me aside and said he wanted to see me at
his quarters as soon as ever the concert was over."

"Well, what of that?" cried the friends.

"A request of this kind," rejoined the Pole, "is, as you know,
gentlemen, tantamount to a positive order."

"Yes, yes," cried van Rheijn, full of curiosity, "we grant you that;
but what important communication had he to make to you?"

"No doubt some case of pneumato--" began van Beneden.

But Murowski did not give him time to complete his sentence.

"He simply wanted to tell me that I am to be transferred to another
station."

"You are going to leave us?" exclaimed the friends in a breath.

"Yes, gentlemen, so it seems--you see I have been a very long time
settled in this place," grumbled Murowski, "it must be quite five
months and a half."

"Well, and where are they going to send you to?"

"To Gombong, it appears."

"They might very easily have packed you off to a worse place," said
van Rheijn, "to Singkelen, for instance, or to Atjeh."

"Oh, I have no doubt you are quite right there," sighed Murowski, "but
where on earth is Gombong? You must excuse my ignorance, gentlemen,"
continued he, with a smile, "the study of Indian geography is, I fear,
somewhat neglected in Poland."

"Gombong," exclaimed van Rheijn, "is in Bagelen."

"Indeed," replied the Pole, "I am much obliged to you for the
information; but where may Bagelen be?"

"Bagelen," said the embryo-controller, with a certain sense of
superiority, pointing in the required direction, "Bagelen is only
just over there."

"Not over the sea then?" cried Murowski, evidently much relieved.

"No, no, my dear fellow, not a bit of it; a carriage will take you
there very comfortably. But, why don't you ask van Nerekool, he has
but just returned from the very place. He knows all about it. Why! he
lost his heart there!"

"Lost his heart? At Gombong?" asked Murowski, looking from one to
the other with a puzzled air.

"Not exactly at Gombong; but at all events very close by, at Karang
Anjer. Do you know Miss van Gulpendam?"

"Pretty Miss van Gulpendam! Of course I do," exclaimed the doctor.

"Very well then, Miss van Gulpendam has gone to Karang Anjer, and
she has taken our friend's heart along with her."

"That's smart," replied the Pole, quite mistaking the meaning of the
word he employed.

"Oh, you think so?" asked Grashuis, drily.

This conversation, as may well be supposed, was highly distasteful
to van Nerekool. He hastened to put an end to it by saying:

"Gentlemen, I vote we begin to think of our experiment."

"Ah, you are right," exclaimed the doctor, "our experientia by all
means; experientia optima rerum magistra you know. By-the-bye, did
you receive the parcel I sent you?"

"Oh, yes," answered Grenits, "you will find it safe on that little
table yonder."

Thereupon Murowski produced his instruments; a couple of thermometers,
a hygrometer, an aneroid barometer, a stethoscope, and a small
chemical balance.

While he was arranging these, van Rheijn opened the other parcel,
which contained a bedoedan and a small box of tjandoe.

"I say," cried van Beneden, who was the first to open the little box,
"precious nasty stuff this looks!"

Murowski took the box from him, examined the contents, and then
falling at once into a lecturing tone, he began:

"Opium is an amorphous, sticky substance which, being of a gummy
nature, is not fissile but plastic. It is of a dark brown colour,
possesses a faint sweetish smell, and is somewhat oily to the
touch. Its chief constituents are morphine and narcotine, in the
absence of these the drug has no value."

"But," interrupted van Beneden somewhat impatiently, "which of us is
to submit to the experiment?"

"The best plan to settle that question," said van Rheijn, "would be,
I think, to draw lots."

"Very good," put in Murowski, "providing you allow me to stand out,
as I shall have to watch the experiment."

"Now, I think," suggested Grenits, "you had better let me make
the trial."

"Why you, rather than anyone of us?"

"Why, because, being a prisoner," replied Grenits, "I have plenty of
time on my hands to get over the effects of the debauch."

"You are quite right," said van Rheijn, "I never thought of that--I
must be at my office as usual to-morrow morning."

"And I," continued van Beneden, "I have to be in court, on Setrosmito's
business, you know."

"Of course, of course!" cried all in chorus, "not one of us must,
on any account, miss that trial."

"Very good," said Grenits, "we are all agreed then that I am to be
the smoker."

"It is very kind of you, Theodoor, to make the offer."

"All right, I am quite ready to begin."

"Very likely," interrupted Murowski, "but that is more than I am."

"No, and I am not ready yet," said Edward van Rheijn.

Thereupon, assuming the most severe professional gravity, the worthy
Pole commenced carefully to weigh out the stock of opium, which he
found came to 142 grains. This fact he noted down in his pocket-book.

"You had better add," said van Rheijn, "that there are twenty-five
matas."

"Twenty-five what?" asked Murowski, again with a puzzled look.

"Twenty-five matas," repeated van Rheijn.

"Matas!" exclaimed the doctor. "What? eyes?"

The general burst of merriment which followed the question served
only to augment the doctor's surprise.

"Eyes!" laughed van Rheijn, "no, no, nothing of the kind. The
Government table of opium weights runs thus: 1 pikoe = 100 katties,
1 kattie = 16 taëls, 1 taël = 10 tji, and 1 tji = 10 matas, and
therefore--"

"All right, all right!" cried Murowski, as he joined in the laugh,
"now I see it."

"But, gentlemen," he continued, "we must look sharp, the sun has set."

It was nearly a quarter past six and, in the month of August, the
sun in Java sets some time before that hour.

Murowski requested Grenits to have the lamps lighted, and when the
servant had brought in the lights, the Pole continued:

"Now then, Grenits, get your clothes off!"

"What is that for?" asked Theodoor.

"My dear fellow," replied the doctor, "I must have you in pyjamas;
for I shall have narrowly to watch the action of the chest."

Grenits retired to his bedroom, and in a few minutes returned clad
in his ordinary night clothing. The doctor then made him lie down
on the divan, he felt his pulse, examined his tongue, sounded him
with the stethoscope, and carefully took his temperature. During
these preliminaries the countenance of Murowski wore a look of stern
solemnity which, no doubt, ought to have impressed the spectators
with the feelings of respect and awe due to a high priest of science;
but which, unfortunately, only served to excite their merriment. Even
Grenits himself could hardly repress a smile.

"What in the world is the good of all that hocus-pocus?" whispered
August van Beneden to Grashuis.

"Why are you lawyers," rejoined the other, "always fencing with
scraps of Latin? It is the correct thing, I suppose. It is a trick
of the trade."

At length Grenits said: "Well, doctor, is my carcase in pretty
good order?"

"Perfect," replied Murowski, "perfectly normal; I must have a look
at the barometer, and then our experiment may begin at once."

The barometer recorded 745 m.m., and the doctor made a note of the
reading.

"There, now," he said to Grenits, "I am quite ready--no, no, wait a
bit--there is something else. When did you last partake of food?"

"At half-past twelve," replied Grenits, "the usual dinner."

"Thank you," said the doctor, and looking at his watch he continued,
"It is now half-past six--just six hours ago. Did you partake of
anything in the way of spirits?"

"No, nothing of the kind," answered Grenits, "nothing but a little
pale ale."

The doctor then placed his thermometers in position under the
patient's arms.

While all this was doing, van Rheijn was busily employed dividing the
opium into twenty-five equal parts. Then he lit the lamps, and, warming
the bits of opium at the flame of the little lamp to make them soft,
he kneaded into each of them some very finely cut Javanese tobacco,
and then rolled them into small round pills. His friends looked on
with some surprise at the dexterity with which he performed these
manipulations; for he had not told them that, previously, he had asked
Lim Ho to show him how the thing ought to be done. This lesson the
wily Chinaman had been only too willing to give him. "Who knows,"
thought he, with a grin, "perhaps the Europeans may take a fancy
to the delicacy." When Edward had prepared his pills, he produced
the bedoedan. It consisted of a tolerably thick bamboo stem some
nine or ten inches in length, highly polished and of a beautiful
light-brown tint. This stem was open at one end and sealed at the
other. Very near to the closed end and at right angles to the stem,
a small earthenware bowl was inserted into the wood.

"It is a spick-span brand new one, I can assure you," said van Rheijn
to Theodoor, "I bought it myself for this very occasion."

"Thank heaven for that!" cried Grenits. "Just fancy if one of those
old sots had been sucking and slobbering at it! Bah! it makes me sick
to think of it."

"That shows how innocent you are," rejoined van Rheijn, "your
real lover of opium, your 'feinschmecker,' prizes an old pipe very
highly. When the stem is thoroughly saturated and the bowl thickly
encrusted with juice, the smoke must be indeed delicious."

Thus saying, Edward put one of the little pills into the bowl and
handed the pipe, thus loaded, to his friend, while he drew the little
table with the lamp within easy reach of the smoker.

Grenits lay stretched out at full length on the divan, the front of
his kabaai was wide open, so that the action of the chest was plainly
visible, and his head rested on a somewhat hard pillow.

"Now," remarked Grashuis, "there is only one thing lacking, and that
is the greasy filthy pillow we saw in the den at Kaligaweh."

"Much obliged to you, Leendert," laughed Grenits. "I would not for
the world touch the beastly thing--this pillow will do perfectly well."

Thus speaking, he turned his face to the lamp, applied his mouth to
the stem of his bedoedan, and, trying to imitate as closely as he
could the proceedings he had witnessed at Kaligaweh, he was about to
apply the bowl to the flame.

"Hold hard!" cried Murowski, "don't be in a hurry, one moment."

With these words he took Theodoor's pulse and held it for fully a
minute looking the while carefully at his watch. Then he once again
applied the stethoscope, examined the thermometers, replaced them,
and finally, in his notebook he wrote: Pulse 72, respiration 24,
temperature 99 1/2.

"That's it," said he, "now then puff away to your heart's content."

With one steady long pull Grenits sucked the flame of the lamp into
the bowl. As the opium-ball kindled, a faint sweetish odour began
to pervade the apartment, a smell somewhat suggestive of warm blood
and treacle.

"Swallow it, swallow it!" cried van Rheijn.

This, however, was more easily said than done. Grenits made an effort
to swallow the nasty smoke; but then a violent fit of coughing
compelled him to open his mouth and blow out the fumes into the
room, augmenting thereby the nauseous smell which already pervaded
the apartment.

"Poeah! poeah!" cried Grenits, puffing and coughing.

"What do you feel? What do you taste?" asked Murowski.

"I am half choked with coughing," stammered Grenits, "and I have a
nasty sweetish taste in my mouth. I cannot describe it."

This first draw had been a deep one; the madat-ball was entirely
consumed; van Rheijn slipped another opium-ball into the pipe.

"Now, this time," said he, "you must try to swallow the smoke; you
have done so often enough when you have blown the smoke of a cigar
from your nose."

Poor Grenits made another attempt. This time he did actually inhale
the fumes and succeeded in retaining them for some seconds, after
which he allowed them slowly to curl out at his nostrils.

Dr. Murowski made a note in his pocket-book, pulse 70, respiration 25,
temperature normal.

Being asked again what he felt, Grenits answered: "I feel nothing;
but the sweet taste has gone and now it tastes rather bitter."

After the third pipe, Theodoor complained that his head felt heavy
and said he wanted to go to sleep. This drowsiness seemed to increase
with the fourth and fifth pipes; but, as yet, Grenits was well able to
resist it. He returned sensible answers to the questions put to him
by his friends; but remarked that his faculties seemed to be clouded
and that he had to reflect for some considerable time before he could
grasp the meaning of a question, and that he could not readily frame
an answer. He was able, however, to sit upright, and could even walk
up and down the room without support.

Dr. Murowski watched him carefully and after the sixth pipe he found,
that the drowsy feeling was still increasing, that the pulse was at
70 while the respiration had risen to 28.

The eighth pipe produced further drowsiness, but yet Theodoor was
able to tell the time by the clock.

With the ninth pipe, his speech became thick and his utterance
indistinct; and when the doctor pressed him very hard, he said that
his tongue seemed as if it were increasing in volume.

After the tenth pipe, the patient began to complain of a bitter taste
in his mouth, and said he felt giddy. The doctor at once grasped his
hand; but pulse and respiration both remained unaltered.

After the eleventh, Grenits could no longer raise himself unaided
from the divan, and, when he tried to walk had to be supported,
so tottering and uncertain were his steps.

After the twelfth pipe, which he smoked very slowly, a remarkable
change came over the patient. Theodoor was now lying with his eyes
closed; but every now and then he opened them and there was now a
brightness in his look which offered a strange contrast to his former
dull and heavy expression. His sensations, he declared, were highly
pleasurable; but he could give no description of his feelings.

"Charles, Charles," he faintly cried, "give us a little music," and
he turned slightly to van Nerekool. The latter at once sat down at
the piano and began very softly to play Chopin's variations on airs
from Don Giovanni. The ecstatic expression on the smoker's face showed
that he took in every chord and every note.

"Go on playing," he murmured, as soon as Charles left off, "more
music--more smoke--give me the pipe."

This ecstatic state went on increasing with the thirteenth pipe and
with it also the craving for opium grew more intense.

Theodoor now began to laugh; he stretched out and waved his arms--the
most pleasant pictures were evidently floating through his brain. When
Murowski asked him what made him laugh he replied, with a fresh burst
of unnatural merriment: "I don't know, I don't know!"

Presently he requested van Nerekool to play him a certain passage from
Schumann's Manfred. In this state of ecstasy the patient remained while
he smoked his fourteenth and fifteenth pipes. The fixed smile did
not leave his features; but now he ceased to reply to the questions
of his friends. He also grew restless by degrees and no longer lay
still as before.

After the sixteenth pipe Grenits complained of having to leave
off smoking while the pipe was being refilled. He grew fretful
and found fault with van Rheijn for not having supplied another
bedoedan, for then, he said, the experiment might have gone on without
interruption. Dr. Murowski observed that the pulse was at 72 and the
respiration at 28; that the conjunctiva was much bloodshot and the
eyelids heavy and drooping.

After the seventeenth pipe the smoker suddenly started up and attempted
to walk; but, after a few steps, fell down and was unable to rise. His
friends carried him back to the divan. He begged hard to be allowed to
go on smoking and, as the doctor declared there was no danger whatever,
the request was complied with.

The eighteenth pipe brought back the state of ecstasy which, for
awhile, seemed to have left the patient. Every now and then he opened
his eyes wide and seemed to follow some flying image.

With the twentieth pipe these symptoms merely increased, and when
Murowski asked him how he felt he replied:

"Oh! I feel so happy; I never felt anything like it before."

The doctor made the following note: Sclerotica much inflamed, pulse
70, respiration 25, temperature 100·04, satyriasis setting in. Upon
being asked if he wanted anything, he replied:

"I don't want anything--nothing at all--leave me alone. The pipe! give
me the pipe! that Edward, that Edward! does he want the thing to
fail altogether?"

The next instant he exclaimed: "Oh! if this be Mohammed's paradise,
let me go on smoking for ever! The pipe! the pipe!"

"Is it not high time," asked van Nerekool anxiously, "to put a stop to
this? The poor fellow will, I fear, do himself some serious mischief."

"No, no, no," cried the Pole. "Don't be alarmed, I answer for him,
there is not the slightest danger. His pulse is perfectly regular,
the breathing has quickened somewhat; but there is only a rise of
·3 in the temperature. It would be a pity not to go on now, this
experiment is most important to science."

After the twenty-first pipe, Grenits seemed to lose all control over
himself. He lay still, almost motionless; but every word he uttered,
every look and every gesture betrayed what was passing within. This
continued until the twenty-fourth pipe had been smoked. Murowski then
again asked him how he felt, and he answered pretty quietly:

"Oh! I am at peace, at rest. Delightful! delightful!"

But this was far from satisfying our Pole. With his right forefinger
on the patient's pulse and his left hand spread out on his breast,
he kept on asking him again and again, "What kind of feeling is it?"

Theodoor, however, did not reply. By this time he was heaving and
panting with excitement. His arms and hands were stretched out
clutching convulsively at some phantom of his brain. His face wore
a look of unutterable bliss which filled the bystanders at once with
amazement and horror.

"Doctor, doctor!" muttered van Nerekool, "let us put an end to
this. Look at him, look at him. It is disgusting!"

But the Pole would not give in.

"There is no danger, none whatever!" he cried; "we must go on now,
we must go on!"

With the tough tenacity of the man of science bent upon fathoming
some natural phenomenon, he eagerly watched Theodoor's slightest
movement. He was desperately anxious to make the patient speak
out. "Grenits!" he cried, "Grenits, do you hear me; tell me, do you
hear me?"

Then he forced up the eyelids, and with his finger sharply filliped
his nose as he kept on crying, trembling with impatience: "Do you
hear me, Grenits, do you hear?"

Grenits muttered a few incoherent words as he restlessly tossed about
on the divan.

"Do you hear me?" persisted the doctor. "Tell me, can you understand?"

"Oh, yes, yes," at length muttered Grenits, "do leave me alone!"

In his eagerness the doctor bent over his patient, he did not for
an instant take his eyes from his face. Just then the friend was
transformed wholly into the man of science who, entirely mastered
by the passionate desire of unravelling some secret of nature, might
become capable of practising vivisection even upon his fellow-man.

"Oh do tell me," passionately implored the doctor, "do tell me what
you feel!"

"What I feel?" muttered Theodoor vaguely. "Oh it is delightful,
delightful--more delicious than--"

"This is too bad!" shouted van Nerekool, "abominable! I can't stand
this any longer!" and, snatching the pipe out of Grenits' hand, he
stamped on it with his foot. Then he seized the box in which there
remained but a single pill of opium and violently flung it and its
contents out of the window.

"That's right, quite right!" cried Grashuis and van Beneden in
a breath.

"It is a pity, a thousand pities," complained Murowski.

But even he had very soon to change his tone, as the condition
of Grenits now began seriously to alarm even the medical man. The
smoker's pulse had fallen to 62, and his respiration to 24, while
the temperature had risen to 101·40.

Grenits moreover was now growing very restless, and was pouring
forth a torrent of libidinous and incoherent ejaculations. His eyes
were bloodshot, his face much swollen, his skin was hot and dry,
while the hands were damp with clammy sweat. Incessantly he kept
on clamouring for opium. "The pipe, give me the pipe! van Rheijn,
the pipe!" he almost yelled, and this amidst a string of loose and
frantic exclamations.

Murowski, now beginning to fear that the experiment might have been
carried too far, endeavoured to make him drink some of the strong
coffee which had been kept ready for the purpose, by pouring it down
his throat with a spoon. He bathed his head with iced water, and
every now and then, made him sniff strong smelling salts. Thus, with
considerable difficulty, the doctor at length succeeded in somewhat
quieting his patient. The coffee, especially, seemed to have a soothing
effect. At first Grenits violently resisted all attempts to make him
swallow it; but presently, of his own accord he began to ask for it,
and the beverage had the most sobering effect. Gradually the excitement
began to abate, the patient's voice became more natural and subdued,
and his utterances less wild. At length Grenits fell into a deep sleep.

Murowski took out his pocket-book and wrote: Pulse 70, respiration 24,
temperature 100.

"Normal," said he with a sigh of relief, "quite normal! However, I
shall not leave him to-night." The gaoler was very easily persuaded to
allow the doctor to remain with his patient for that night, and Grenits
slept for thirty-three hours. When he at length awoke he found that,
with the exception of a feeling of exhaustion and a pretty severe
headache, he was none the worse of his opium-debauch. Even these
unpleasant sensations, however, left him as soon as he had taken a
bath, and then he became ravenously hungry so that his attendant had
some difficulty in serving him quickly and plentifully enough.

Three days after these events Murowski was on his way to his new
station. It was his intention to expand his notes into a full account
of what he had witnessed, and to send his paper on the effects of
opium smoking to one of the scientific publications in Germany.

The experiment in the prison at Santjoemeh had one good effect, at
least, upon those who were assembled to witness it: it served namely,
to confirm the opinions they already held with regard to the use of
opium. It would not be true to say that van Rheijn had ever stood up
as a defender of the use of the drug; yet he had always striven to
find some argument in palliation of the Government system; but now
even he was completely converted.

With poor Theodoor Grenits the events of that evening were, for a
long time, a very sore point; and he never could bear the slightest
allusion made to his antics while under the spell of the poppy-juice.

"May I be hanged!" he cried, "if ever again I touch a bedoedan,
however seductive and pleasant may be the images it calls up." And
then, turning to his friends, he said, "Gentlemen, I beg you will do
me the great favour of never, in the slightest manner, alluding to
the past; and," continued he enthusiastically, "let us now join hands
and solemnly declare war--war to the knife against the opium trade."

CHAPTER XXXIII.

IN THE PANDOPPO OF THE REGENT.

The day which followed the opium experiment described in the last
chapter, promised to be an interesting one to the inhabitants of
Santjoemeh. On that day, Setrosmito, the father of baboe Dalima,
who had for months been lying in gaol on a charge of having murdered
a Chinese bandoelan in the execution of his duty, and who had been
accused also of opium-smuggling, was to be brought to trial.

The evidence had already been taken, and the witnesses on both sides
had been examined. The prisoner confessed that he had, with his kris,
taken the Chinaman's life; but he stoutly denied that he had been
guilty of smuggling. All Santjoemeh had turned out, that is to say,
the whole European population; for it was known that August van
Beneden would conduct the defence. As our readers know, the young
lawyer had already appeared as counsel for baboe Dalima; but at her
trial he had merely watched the proceedings in behalf of his client,
and had no opportunity of showing his powers as an advocate. Thus the
speech he was expected to deliver in defence of Setrosmito, might be
looked upon as virtually his maiden-speech.

In social circles, however, and on several minor occasions, August van
Beneden had given evidence of much ability and considerable readiness
of speech, and thus the good people of Santjoemeh were looking forward
to the coming trial as to a rare intellectual treat.

But that was by no means all. It was further rumoured that the
unfortunate bandoelan had lost his life in consequence of his
misconduct towards the little daughter of the prisoner. Now, the
public at Santjoemeh knew pretty well what excesses the bandoelans
used frequently to permit themselves to take in these domiciliary
visits for opium; and thus expected that some spicy details would
be forthcoming at the trial. It was, moreover, confidently expected
that in his devotion to Themis, the young lawyer would lay his finger
heavily upon the crying abuses of the infamous opium traffic, that
plague-spot of Javanese society and that disgrace to the European
conquerors of the island.

No wonder, therefore, that long before the time appointed for the
trial, the pandoppo of the Regent's house in which the court was
to sit, was crowded to its utmost capacity. Even ladies appeared
in the audience, and foremost among these was fair Laurentia van
Gulpendam. As a rule, no ladies ever appear at these native trials;
but, on this occasion, the full-flavoured particulars which were sure
to be revealed, might perhaps account for their presence.

At all events, the numerous staff of servants looked on in amazement at
this unusual concourse; for generally the public is, on such occasions,
conspicuous only by its absence. These attendants found it as much as
they could do to provide seats for all the company, and though there
always is an abundant supply of chairs in every Regent's house, yet on
this occasion, a sufficient number of seats could hardly be mustered.

Had it been evening, and had the numerous lamps which swung from the
roof of the pandoppo been alight, one might have imagined oneself
at some festive gathering, or rather, one might have thought, that
an exhibition of juggling or other such-like entertainment was about
to take place; for, at one extremity of the spacious hall, there was
a raised platform three steps above the level of the floor. On this
stage was seen a long table covered with a green baize cloth on which
were displayed a thick book and a number of 'pièces de conviction;'
and at which several chairs were placed in order. A police oppasser,
who, judging from his demeanour, was fully aware of the importance
of his office, was mounting guard at the table, evidently posted
there to keep the profane vulgar at a respectful distance. Had any
unruly spirit attempted to approach, he would no doubt, with a noble
flourish, have dragged the rusty bit of iron which he wore by his
side from its scabbard.

Pending the entrance of the judges, the crowd tried to pass the time
as agreeably as it could. Greetings were exchanged, jokes circulated
freely, the people laughed and chatted, and, in fact, behaved, in that
temple of Justice, precisely as they might have done at a music-hall
during the interval.

"Good morning, Mrs. van Gulpendam, do you intend to be present at
our session?"

The speaker was Mr. Thomasz, deputy clerk of the court. He had
strolled in en amateur to have a look at the proceedings; for the
chief clerk himself was on that day to officiate, and Thomasz meant
to make the best of the opportunity thus offered him of paying his
court to fair Laurentia.

"Good morning," replied the Resident's wife as she held out her
hand. "Yes, I have come to have a look. I never have been present
at one of these trials, and am rather curious to see what they are
like. This case will be an interesting one, I think?"

"I think it will, madam," replied Thomasz; "but for my part, I consider
the examination of the witnesses much more entertaining."

"I daresay," said Laurentia; "but--that horrid murderer--they are
sure to find him guilty, are they not?"

"I am not so sure of that, madam."

"You are not? Why not?"

"No, indeed, I am not. The head djaksa has indeed got up a splendid
case for the prosecution, there is not a loop-hole in it; but ever
since our Residents and Assistant-Residents have ceased to preside,
and the duty has devolved upon professional lawyers, we seem to be be
under the influence of a kind of morbid philanthropy--and, it would
not at all surprise me if the scoundrel got clean off, especially--"

"Ah yes," exclaimed Laurentia, "I know what you would say: especially
since a European has undertaken the defence of that Javanese
scoundrel. It is perfectly unheard-of--monstrous! But, tell me,
who pays that counsel, do you know, Mr. Thomasz?"

"Hush! madam, that's a secret."

"A secret!" cried Laurentia, "you must keep no secrets from the wife
of your Resident. You seem to know all about it. Come tell me what
you know."

"Let us go on the platform then," said Thomasz with a faint smile,
"no one will be able to overhear us up there."

They walked up the steps, went to the table, and made a pretence
of examining the objects displayed upon it. The policeman on guard,
of course, took good care not to interfere with the njonja Resident
and the assistant registrar of the court.

"Now then," said Laurentia in an undertone, "you may speak out. Who
pays that lawyer?"

"A company, madam," was the reply.

"A company! What? of Chinamen?" cried Laurentia impatiently.

"I did not say so, madam," replied the deputy clerk with a smile and
a slight bow.

"What company then?"

"Of Europeans, madam."

"Oh ho! you know them. You need not deny it; I see it in your face."

"Hush, madam," whispered Thomasz, "there are a couple of ladies coming
near," and then aloud he added: "Yes this is the very kris with which
the deed was done--you see the wavy blade is stained with blood--that
black spot--"

Mrs. van Gulpendam seized the weapon.

"Give me their names," she whispered as she stooped forward over the
table to take it up.

"I know but one of them--van Nerekool."

"Van Nerekool--still that van Nerekool," hissed the fair woman between
her clenched teeth. And then, turning to the pandoppo, she said to
one of the ladies who had by this time mounted the platform:

"Look here, Henriette, just look here--this is the kris with which
the murder was committed." The policeman in charge of the table
seemed inclined to step forward to forbid the others to approach;
but a haughty look from Laurentia restrained him.

"Is that really the kris?" asked Henriette.

"Yes," exclaimed Laurentia, "look, you! that's how it was done--slash
across the throat!" She accompanied these words with a sweep of the
formidable weapon which made both the ladies start back in terror.

"A magnificent woman that Laurentia!" said a young man in the body
of the hall. "Just look at her attitude, look at her features, look
at that hand as she grasps the dagger! What a lady Macbeth! what a
perfect instep!"

"Aye, aye," quoth another, "she is posing, she knows--she feels--that
we are admiring her."

"What are you frightened at?" continued Mrs. van Gulpendam, "see here,
that spot is the blood of the victim, is it not, Mr. Thomasz?"

"Disgusting!" cried both ladies in a breath.

"How can you touch it, my dear madam?"

"Touch it? why not?" scornfully replied Laurentia as she flung
back the kris rattling upon the table. "Why not touch it? the thing
doesn't bite."

"Of course not, my dear," said Henriette; "but the mere thought that
it has murdered a man!"

"Pooh! a Chinaman!" cried Laurentia.

"But a Chinaman is a human being," objected her friend.

"I suppose so," was Laurentia's disdainful reply.

"It is well that Lim Yang Bing or Lim Ho are not by to hear you,"
said Thomasz forcing a laugh.

"Oh that is a different matter altogether," said the arrogant woman.

"They are opium-farmers," cried Henriette.

"They are millionaires!" added her friend.

The two ladies uttered these exclamations almost simultaneously, with
an indescribable tone of sarcasm peculiar to their sex. Laurentia
fully understood the taunt and felt it too; but she gave no sign
of displeasure.

"Ah yes," continued Henriette following up her pleasant little
home-thrust. "Now you mention their names, what has become of the
two Chinamen. I don't see them. Yonder is the Chinese captain and Kam
Tjeng Bie the wealthy merchant; but I can't see the two opium-farmers."

"They will take good care," added the other lady, "not to show their
noses here."

"I daresay," carelessly remarked Laurentia, "that they find plenty
to do getting ready for the wedding."

"Is not the murderer," asked Henriette, "the father of baboe Dalima
who accused Lim Ho of--?"

"My dear Henriette," hastily interposed Mrs. van Gulpendam, "that
is the merest tattle--in our gossiping Santjoemeh you ought not to
believe one tenth part of what you hear."

"But," continued she rather hurriedly as if anxious to change the
subject, "but, Mr. Thomasz, what kind of gollokh is that yonder on the
table--that looks as if it were blood-stained too--did the murderer
use that thing also?"

"Oh no, madam," replied the assistant-clerk, "that is nothing but
chicken's blood."

"Chicken's blood?" inquired Henriette with a laugh.

"Yes, dear madam, we call that the gollokh soempah."

"Indeed, and what may that mean?"

"We might translate it by the 'oath-knife,'" replied Thomasz; "it is,
in fact, with that instrument that the Chinese take an oath."

"That's interesting! did you ever see it done, Mr. Thomasz?"

"Oh yes, madam, very frequently."

"Do tell us all about it," cried Henriette, "how is it done?"

"It is as simple a ceremony as possible, ladies. The witness who
is about to be sworn, accompanied by a Chinese interpreter, and one
of the members of the court, walks up to a block of wood. Then the
gollokh is placed into his hand and with it he chops off the head
of a black chicken. Nothing more, and nothing less. It is an utterly
meaningless performance, and, at first sight, it is simply ludicrous."

"But why must the chicken be black, Mr. Thomasz?" asked Henriette.

"That is more than I can tell you, madam," replied he. "You are aware,
I suppose, that white is the mourning colour in China."

"Oh, yes, I know that; but--a black chicken? There must be some hidden
meaning in that," mused Henriette.

"There may be, madam," replied Thomasz; "but I have never been able
to discover any, though I have frequently asked interpreters and
even Chinese chiefs about it. There exists, however," he continued,
"in China another manner of taking an oath, the significance of which
is, perhaps, more obvious. But it is used only on special and very
important occasions."

"Can there be any question of greater moment," asked Henriette,
somewhat sharply, "than that of speaking the truth before a judge?"

"Certainly there may be, madam," was the reply.

"More important do you mean to tell me, than of giving solemn testimony
upon which may depend perhaps the life or death of a human being?"

"Undoubtedly, madam," said Thomasz.

"Well!" cried Henriette, "I should like to know what questions those
may be!"

"To give you only one instance," replied Thomasz, "the great oath,
the solemn oath which the Government requires to be taken when a man
is made a Chinese officer."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Henriette with a laugh, "do you call that so very
serious a matter?"

"And then," continued the assistant clerk, "on certain occasions,
though rarely, the great oath is administered in civil cases, where
the interests involved are very considerable."

"Ah, now I understand you! When it is a question of £ s. d.," laughed
Henriette; "but, pray, tell us something about that great oath."

"With pleasure, madam, only I am afraid I do not know very much
about it. The rites observed on such occasions are borrowed from the
ceremony with which the oath is administered in China to princes and
high state officials on their appointment. I will, in as few words as
possible, try to describe to you what takes place. The witness first
writes down the evidence he intends to give or the promise he intends
to make, on a strip of red paper, and then he confirms the truth
of his words by calling down upon himself the most fearful curses
should his evidence prove untrue, or should he fail to carry out
his engagement. This strip of red paper the witness next carries to
the temple, and solemnly spreads it out upon the table of offerings,
between a number of burning candles, some bottles of wine and some
confectionery, which are destined to be gifts or offerings to the
idol. While this is going on the priests are screeching forth a
form of prayer, at certain passages of which a bell is violently
rung. Thereupon the witness, in a loud voice, reads out what he has
written on the paper, the priests the while burning incense. Finally,
the red paper is held to the flame of one of the candles, and,
having been thrown down on the table, is allowed to burn until it
is reduced to ashes. This concludes the ceremony. I know, ladies,
my description is most imperfect; but I hope that I have succeeded
in giving you some notion of this very curious solemnity."

"Much obliged to you, Mr. Thomasz," said Laurentia, holding out
her hand to him as, with haughty glance, she surveyed the company
assembled in the pandoppo.

"I wonder whom she is looking for?" whispered one of the young men
in the body of the hall.

"Not for me I fear," sighed another, "perhaps--"

"The gentlemen of the court!" bawled a police oppasser, much in the
tone of a French huissier when he shouts, "La cour, messieurs!"

The name of the individual who was supposed to be the object of
Laurentia's solicitude remained unspoken.

Just then, out of one of the side buildings which could be seen
from the pandoppo through the intervals between the blinds, there
appeared two European gentlemen, two Javanese chiefs and two Chinese
officers. These formed a kind of procession and slowly marched towards
the pandoppo. Having entered the hall they ascended the platform,
and took their seats at the table, on the chairs placed ready for them.

At the head of the procession walked Mr. Greveland, the successor
of Mr. Zuidhoorn and president of the court. After him, came Radhen
Mas Toemenggoeng Pringgoe Kesoemo, regent of Santjoemeh; Radhen
Pandjie Merto Winoto the patih, and babah Tang Ing Gwam the Chinese
major--these three were members of the native Council. Then followed
Mas Wirio Kesoemo the head djaksa, and behind him came the clerk of
the court, while Hadjie Moehammad Kassan, the panghoeloe or native
priest, closed the procession.

The president was in his judicial robes of office, while the clerk
of the court appeared in black frock-coat and white trousers. The
Javanese members wore, of course, the national costume, which consisted
of a short jacket with stiff gold-embroidered collar over a similarly
embroidered vest, with the finely stitched sarong wrapped in neat and
narrow plaits round the waist. On their heads they wore the ordinary
scarf; but in addition to this they also wore the kopja, an ugly and
shapeless head-gear, looking like a bit of stove-pipe ornamented with
narrow gold lace.

The Chinese major was in full Mandarin's dress, the most conspicuous
part of his attire being a kind of tabard of light blue cloth,
on which, in front and behind, were richly embroidered in gold a
pair of monstrous dragons. His head was covered with a stiff cap of
light blue cloth. This cap had a somewhat high crown, on the top of
which, surmounting a little tuft or tassel, shone a large blue gem
of extraordinary lustre.

The panghoeloe was clad in a sombre-looking cassock reaching down to
his heels. He was remarkable chiefly by a turban of prodigious size,
which, by its magnitude and colour, proclaimed that the man had visited
the tomb of the prophet and was therefore a Hadjie or pilgrim. In
his hand he held a book which looked much worn and soiled. This was
the sacred book--the Koran.

On the steps leading to the platform were seated several Javanese
youths dressed in the national costume but without the kopja. These
were the mantries, generally young men of good family, and even of
noble birth, who were present to listen to the proceedings, and thus
to qualify themselves for future appointments. They sat on the steps
with their legs crossed before them, and each had on his knees a
writing tablet, on which he was prepared to jot down whatever remarks
he might consider valuable enough to be thus rescued from oblivion.

Mr. Greveland took the chair at the middle of the oblong table. On
his right hand sat the regent and on his left the clerk of the
court. Next to the regent sat the djaksa and on his right again sat
the panghoeloe. The clerk of the court had on his left the patih,
and after him came the Chinese major. All these places were allotted
to their several occupants, in accordance with the rules of the
strictest etiquette, to which Eastern nations always attach the
utmost importance.

Just after the president had taken his seat, August van Beneden
made his appearance in his barrister's gown; and, by the chairman's
direction, sat down at the end of the table by the side of the
Chinese major. At that moment the pandoppo of the regent's house
offered an interesting and most curious spectacle. It was a wide
roomy shed the lofty roof of which was supported by eight pillars,
and completely open on all sides. In order to temper the glare of the
sunlight, and also to exclude the prying looks of the public outside,
the spaces between the pillars were hung with green kreés or mats,
while the members of the court had the further protection of a canvas
screen stretched behind them. Behind the judges some Javanese servants
were squatting. These men bore the pajoengs of the Javanese chiefs,
and though these umbrellas were closed, yet their bearers held them
aloft in such a manner that they could plainly be seen behind the backs
of their masters. As the native court was then sitting; and taken as
typical of the entire judicial system as regards the native inhabitants
of the island of Java, it presented a strange combination of those
three leading principles which the Dutch Government has, sometimes
in greater sometimes in lesser degree, but always very cleverly,
managed to unite. First there was the European law represented by
the person of the President; in the next place the native usage was
respected which demands that both the judges shall be Javanese chiefs
or nobles of the highest rank; and in the third place there was the
Mohammedan law represented by the panghoeloe whose office it was to
enforce due respect for the injunctions of the Koran.

Between the platform and the first row of chairs there was a
considerable open space which, however, was not protected by any
kind of railing. To the right and left of the platform stood a pair
of native police oppassers in their bright yellow uniform and with
side-arms dangling from bright yellow belts. The poor fellows cut a
sorry figure as they stood there, they were quite taken aback at the
sight of so large a crowd.

Fair Laurentia had taken her seat on the middle chair of the first
row. As njonja Resident this place of honour belonged to her, and
by her side she had placed two of her most intimate friends. Close
around these clustered the most fashionable and important inhabitants
of Santjoemeh, or such as considered themselves the most important;
and behind these again came the miscellaneous crowd which filled the
pandoppo from end to end. The conversation, however, now that the
judges had entered, was carried on in whispers or in a low undertone.

Edward van Rheijn, Charles van Nerekool and Leendert Grashuis,
we hardly need say, were present in the third or fourth row of
chairs among a number of their young friends and acquaintances--the
jeunesse dorée of Santjoemeh. Thus they had an excellent view of
the proceedings.

"Look at that Thomasz," said van Rheijn, "what an ass the fellow is
making of himself with Laurentia!"

"Yes, yes," quoth Grashuis, "he is making hay while the sun shines."

"I don't know so much about that," remarked one of the young men
present, "it seems to me that just now he is pretty well at home at
the Residence."

"There are very queer rumours afloat about him," whispered another.

"Rumours!" said van Rheijn testily, "why, in Santjoemeh, the air
is always full of rumours. What would Santjoemeh be without its
chronique scandaleuse?"

"If people will behave themselves in that way!"

"Yes, and if appearances are all against them!"

"Indeed," said van Rheijn tartly, "am I to suppose that, where a
woman's good name is concerned, you would go by appearances?"

"They say that M`Bok Kârijâh has been employed."

"Oh! if that filthy hag has a finger in the pie, then--"

"They say!" exclaimed van Rheijn contemptuously, "they say!--and pray
who are they?"

"Well--everybody--"

"At all events I am not one of them," replied van Rheijn.

"No more am I," added Grashuis.

"Hush," whispered van Rheijn, "I am sure Laurentia can hear all we say;
just look how she pricks her ears."

"How very dignified van Beneden looks in his gown," said Grashuis
anxious to change the subject and slightly raising his voice.

"I don't see it," returned van Rheijn; "he looks for all the world
like an umbrella in its case."

At that moment fair Laurentia turned and cast her eye over the group
of young gentlemen seated behind her. They all greeted and bowed. Van
Rheijn, however, had a gracious smile all to himself--it might have
been perhaps in acknowledgment of his comparison of van Beneden with
the umbrella.

"Oh, you sly fox," whispered one with a nudge, "that is why you took
me up so sharply just now? eh?"

"Do shut up!" said van Rheijn, "I wonder you are not ashamed of
yourself for talking such nonsense!"

"Have you received an invitation yet?" asked Grashuis, wishing to
turn the conversation into another channel.

"What invitation?"

"To Lim Ho's wedding party."

"Yes, I got one the other day," said one.

"And so have I," said another.

"That is a curious custom," remarked van Nerekool, "for the bridegroom
to give the wedding party."

"Yes," added another, "it is so totally different from what one sees
among Western people."

"Different!" exclaimed van Rheijn, "of course it is--it is quite
consistent with everything else in China. With them everything
is upside down. Their mourning colour is white and blue is
half-mourning. Their ladies wear trousers and the men carry fans. Such
things as knives, spoons and forks they leave to us barbarians, while
they manage very cleverly to whisk down their food with a pair of
chop-sticks. They hold that descendants can ennoble their ancestors
so that one may become a count or a baron after one's death. They
pay their doctors so long as they keep well; but the moment they fall
sick they stop payment. What can you expect from such people--? surely
you may let them hold their wedding feast at the bridegroom's house
instead of the bride's!"

A general laugh greeted this whimsical sally which had by no means been
uttered in an undertone. Mrs. van Gulpendam joined in the merriment
and rewarded the speaker with another friendly nod.

"You see! you lucky dog! you are decidedly in her good books."

"Hush, gentlemen! here comes the murderer."

"What? unfettered?"

"Yes, the law demands that an accused man shall appear free and
unfettered before his judges."

"But it does not forbid a couple of constables to stick close to
his elbow."

"Hush!"

Mr. Greveland had repeatedly struck the table with his wooden hammer.

"Usher," he said at length with much dignity, "you must see that
silence is kept in court."

The man thus addressed was a sjenjo or half-caste--he rushed up and
down the pandoppo in frantic endeavours to enforce the order he had
received, "Hush, hush, silence! Silence, ladies and gentlemen!" he
bawled at the top of his voice, thus making more noise than all the
company put together.

Again the hammer came down, and the president himself called:
"Silence."

"Silence!" shouted the usher imploringly, as he stretched out his arms
and looked as if he were going to swim, or was trying to lay a tempest.

At length he succeeded in controlling those unruly tongues. One of
the very last to give way was Laurentia--"who had a right to interfere
with her--the Resident's wife? Those gentlemen on the bench are always
giving themselves such airs!"

Presently, however, even her chatter ceased. Once again the president
brought down his hammer.

"The session is opened," said he; "constables bring the prisoner
forward!"

One of the oppassers hereupon drew Setrosmito to the foot of the
steps and made him squat down in front of the table. The poor fellow
looked a wretched object indeed. The months he had passed in prison
had effectually done their work upon him. He was frightfully lean, and
the warm brown colour of his skin had turned a dusky grey. His long
lank hair, which here and there straggled from under his head-dress,
had turned grey--nay white. As he advanced he looked timidly around
him, he cast one imploring glance at van Beneden, who gave him a
friendly nod and a smile of encouragement, and then, submissively,
he squatted down in the spot to which the policeman pointed.

When first Setrosmito came forward some one uttered a loud
heart-rending shriek of Ah God!--this cry was followed by the usher's
cry for silence.

At the back of the pandoppo several Javanese women were huddled
together. They were the friends of Setrosmito's wife, who had
accompanied her into the court. She it was who had uttered the wail
which made all the spectators turn their heads. She had not been able
to restrain her feelings at the sight of the wretched object in which
she could hardly recognise her husband. Van Nerekool at once hurried
up to the poor creature, he got one of the regent's servants to give
her a kind of stool, and then he tried to quiet her.

"You must keep quiet, M`Bok Dalima," said he, "or else you won't be
allowed to remain here."

The poor sobbing woman buried her face in both her hands.

On all sides were heard murmurs of "The murderer's wife! Poor woman!"

"Silence!" roared the usher.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

SETROSMITO'S TRIAL.

As soon as the commotion produced by that lamentable cry had subsided,
Mr. Greveland began to question the prisoner.

"What is your name?" he asked.

The djaksa interpreted the question to the accused man in Javanese.

The prisoner with his head bent forward and his eyes steadfastly
fixed on the floor replied:

"Setrosmito, kandjeng toean."

"Where were you born?"

"At Kaligaweh, kandjeng toean."

"How old are you?"

"I don't know, kandjeng toean."

The djaksa turned to the clerk of the court and said, "Put him down
about forty years of age."

There was, in reality, but little need for all this interrogatory;
for the particulars had been already noted down during the course of
the preliminary examinations. The questions were, in fact, put merely
pro forma.

"Where do you live?" continued the president.

"In the prison, kandjeng toean," innocently answered the prisoner.

"Aye! but I mean before you went to prison?"

"In the dessa Kaligaweh, kandjeng toean."

"Setrosmito," continued the president, "do you know why you have been
brought here before us?"

"Yes, kandjeng toean."

"Let us hear it then."

"They tell me I have smuggled opium, and that I have killed a
Chinaman," quietly replied the Javanese, without so much as raising
his eyes from the floor.

A murmur of indignation ran through the pandoppo at the apparent
callousness of the reply.

"Silence!" cried the president.

"Silence in the court!" vociferated the usher.

"Do you plead guilty to these charges?" asked Mr. Greveland.

The djaksa interpreted the question; but the prisoner hesitated--he
seemed not to know what he ought to say. He cast a furtive sidelong
glance at August van Beneden, who reassured him by saying:

"Speak up, Setrosmito, speak up, tell the simple truth."

"No, kandjeng toean," said he, "I am not guilty of smuggling. I never
touch the bedoedan. I have killed a Chinaman because he ill-treated
my child."

The Javanese spoke in a very low tone of voice--he was abashed before
that large audience and before his chiefs. He spoke moreover in
the Javanese tongue, which hardly any one present could understand,
so that his answer produced no impression whatever.

"Now, listen attentively, Setrosmito," said the president. "The charges
against you, your own statements, and the evidence of the witnesses,
will be read out to you."

"Yes, kandjeng toean."

Thereupon the clerk of the court rose, and in the sing-song monotonous
tone of voice peculiar to his class, began to read all the depositions
and the whole body of evidence which the preliminary examinations had
produced. He read very fast, very indistinctly, and in so low a tone
of voice that not a soul in the pandoppo, not even the president
himself, who was seated close beside him, could understand what
he said. The prisoner, of course, could not catch a single word;
for the papers were all drawn up in Malay, a language of which the
simple dessa-labourer knows little or nothing. From time to time
this dreamy flow of words was interrupted by the djaksa, whose duty
it was to translate to the prisoner the more important parts of the
case. But even the interpretation was got through at such a pace that
it was very doubtful whether the prisoner was any the wiser for the
djaksa's translation.

He sat squatting on the floor without changing his attitude, and
kept his eyes rivetted on one spot; his hands, fumbling the while
at the skirts of his jacket, betrayed his extreme agitation. At
every explanation of the djaksa, whether he understood it or not,
he mumbled the invariable Javanese answer:

"Yes, kandjeng toean."

This reading of the evidence was a most dreary and tedious
business. Even the members of the council at the table kept up
a whispered conversation, which the president had repeatedly to
interrupt with an impatient gesture and a stern look of displeasure.

The audience, however, did not confine themselves to mere whispers. No
one spoke out aloud; but gradually there arose a humming and
buzzing--an indescribable rumour, broken now and again by some lady's
giggle--which sadly interfered with the majesty of the law.

In vain did the usher exert the full power of his lungs. His shout of
"silence" produced its effect for the moment; but it was only for
the moment. The instant after the universal buzzing began again as
if a huge swarm of bees had taken possession of the pandoppo.

"What an insufferable bore that clerk is to be sure!" simpered
Mrs. van Gulpendam.

"He leaves the reading to his nose," remarked Mr. Thomasz.

"Mind your chief does not hear you," said one of the ladies.

"Pray don't tell him!" cried Thomasz, "he does not know he talks
through his gable--if he did, he might try and improve."

"Be quiet, Mr. Thomasz," said Laurentia, with a burst of laughter,
"you really must not make us laugh so."

"What? I, madam?" asked the clerk.

"You? Of course. The Resident calls you a dry comical fellow."

"How, madam, do you mean to say the Resident applies such terms to me?"

"Yes, he does--don't you like them?"

"Madam," replied the assistant-clerk, "professionally I cannot say
that I do. Just fancy, ladies," he continued, turning to the others,
"a comical clerk, who ever heard of such a thing?"

He uttered these words with a serio-comic air, so irresistibly droll,
that the ladies fairly shook with suppressed laughter.

"Oh--do hold your tongue, Mr. Thomasz!" Laurentia at length managed
to say, "you see how savagely Mr. Greveland is glaring at you."

"What a time that mumbler takes to be sure!" said a voice almost
aloud in the centre of the pandoppo.

"If one might only light a cigar to while away the time," said another.

"Or get a glass of bitters!"

"I was asking an oppasser just now to fetch me a glass of beer--my
throat is as dry as a lime-kiln," said another voice in an audible
whisper.

"Well--and did you get it?"

"Don't I wish I may get it? 'Not allowed, sir,' was all I could
get out of that canary-bird, who looked as black as a three days'
west monsoon."

"Shall we go to the club, it is close by?" asked another.

"Yes, if I thought that muttering would last much longer."

"Silence! silence!" shouted the usher, "respect for the court!"

That respect for the court was all very well; but the good people of
Santjoemeh had gathered together for the sake of amusement, and they
were being bored almost to death.

At length the clerk had got to the end of his dreary tale--at
length the djaksa had, for the last time, said to the prisoner:
"Do you understand, Setrosmito?" And at length, for the last time,
the latter had replied in his monotonous drone the same words:

"Yes, kandjeng toean."

Then came the usual shuffling of feet and a general murmur of
satisfaction which, however, the usher soon managed to subdue.

As soon as silence had been restored, the head djaksa rose from his
chair and, in his capacity of public prosecutor, he began to open
the case for the Government.

His speech was remarkably well put together, and worked out with much
skill and care; but it could have an interest only for those who knew
nothing of the other side of the case.

It was, in fact, little more than a statement of what had occurred,
strictly on the lines of the report of the bandoelan Singomengolo.

The public prosecutor took the case of opium smuggling as conclusively
proved. He dwelt at great length upon the cunning displayed in
hiding the forbidden wares under the pandan-mat of the couch--the
opium itself and the box which had contained it lay before him on
the table as convincing proofs of the truth of what he advanced.

Then, in very forcible words, he went on to dilate upon the craftiness
of these opium smugglers; and tried to show how, in their endeavours
to cheat the revenue, they gave evidence of much cleverness; but
generally over-reached themselves and proved, by the tricks they
employed, their utter want of honesty and moral sense.

Mas Wirio Kesoemo waxed well-nigh eloquent when he pointed out how
the passion for opium was, hand over hand, gaining ground in Java;
and how this debasing passion was promoted and fostered chiefly by
the abominable smuggling trade. He dwelt, in glowing terms, upon the
absolute necessity of repressing, by every means the law would allow,
that dirty underhand traffic which was the fruitful source of so
much misery.

"Picture to yourselves," he cried, "the amount of injury which this
nefarious trade is inflicting upon the realm beyond the ocean, upon
all India, and especially upon our own beloved island of Java. Think
of the millions which are lost--the millions!--I might say the tens
of millions, and then calculate the amount of good which these tens
of millions might produce if they were allowed to flow quietly and
without check into the national treasury!"

At these words the djaksa, who up to that time had been addressing
the members of the council, turned to the public, knowing well that
this argumentum ad crumenam would tickle the public ear. And he was
not mistaken. The audience consisted for the most part of Dutchmen,
and the tinkle of these tens of millions had a metallic sound which was
strangely fascinating to the hearers. A distinct murmur of approbation
arose, many a head nodded in silent assent and many a voice muttered:

"Hear, hear! If we could but be delivered from that abominable
smuggling!"

These evident tokens of sympathy did not escape the djaksa's watchful
eye, and Mas Wirio Kesoemo did not let so favourable an opportunity
pass without expressing the fervent hope that the judges would not
fail, by their sentence in the present case, to crush the foul reptile
which battened upon the national prosperity. He called upon them,
therefore, to pass upon the prisoner, who not only sat there accused
of the heinous crime of smuggling; but was charged also with the
additional offence of murder, the heaviest sentence which the law
would allow. By doing so, he added, they would earn for themselves
the cordial thanks of the island of Java, and establish a claim upon
the gratitude of the entire Dutch nation.

For a moment it seemed as if the greater part of the company
assembled in the pandoppo, would have given vent to their feelings of
satisfaction by cheering and clapping of hands--one cry of "bravo!" was
distinctly heard; but the usher repressed all such manifestations
with his repeated shout of "Silence--silence in the court!"

The head djaksa now proceeded with the second part of his case against
Setrosmito, that, namely, of having murdered a Chinese bandoelan;
a charge which was inseparably connected with the former one of
opium smuggling.

The entire assembly hung breathless on his lips, as he described
how Setrosmito had resisted the searching of his house; how, when
the fatal box had been discovered, he had hurled an opprobrious name
at Singomengolo and called him a "dirty dog;" how he had, thereupon,
seized his kris and how, when the chief bandoelan fled back in terror,
he had flung himself upon an inoffensive and defenceless Chinaman,
and had drawn the wavy blade of his knife across his throat, while a
stream of blood deluged murderer and victim alike. This description,
graphic almost to brutality in its details, made a powerful impression
upon the audience. One of the ladies present screamed and fainted away,
and had to be carried off insensible. This episode caused considerable
commotion, and Setrosmito cast an anxious glance behind him to see
what was going on.

"Silence! silence!" bawled the usher.

As soon as order had been, in some measure, restored, Mas Wirio Kesoemo
proceeded to dwell on the increasing temerity of the opium smugglers,
who scrupled not to take a human life rather than risk the loss of
their smuggled wares. He insisted upon the necessity of inflicting the
extreme penalty for the protection of the police in the execution of
their arduous duties; and he ended his speech by demanding that the
murderer be condemned to death by hanging, or, if the defence could
establish any extenuating circumstances, that the sentence should be
at least twenty years of penal servitude with hard labour.

A deep silence reigned in the pandoppo as the djaksa resumed his seat,
one might have heard a pin drop, so intensely was that frivolous
crowd impressed by this fearful demand for a human life. A kind of
spell lay upon all, every heart seemed compressed as in a vice. A
general sigh of relief was heard when the president broke the silence:

"Setrosmito," asked Mr. Greveland, "have you heard what the public
prosecutor has said?"

The prisoner looked up with a puzzled expression at the speaker;
but he did not answer a word. The entire case had been conducted in
Malay, of which he did not understand a single word. The expression
of the poor fellow's face showed that plainly enough. The president
repeated his question, which the djaksa, thereupon, interpreted
to Setrosmito. The prisoner cast one look upon August van Beneden,
and upon a nod from the latter, answered:

"Yes, kandjeng toean."

"Have you anything to say in reply?" asked the president.

Another look at his counsel, and then the prisoner answered:

"No, kandjeng toean."

A cry of indignation and horror arose in the pandoppo at the seeming
callousness of the answer.

"Silence, gentlemen! Silence in the court!" shouted the usher.

As soon as he could make himself heard, Mr. Greveland said:

"I call upon the counsel for the defence."

"At length!" muttered Grashuis, with a deep sigh.

"Now we shall hear something very fine!" cried Mrs. van Gulpendam,
with a sneer; but in a voice quite loud enough to reach the young
lawyer's ears.

Van Beneden very calmly rose from his chair, wiped his forehead,
and then, in a clear voice which could distinctly be heard through
the entire pandoppo, he said:

"The trial which is now occupying the attention of this honourable
court is one which is indigenous to the soil of Java. I might
say, indeed, that in no other spot in the world could such a case
arise. There can be nothing simpler, nothing more plain than the
demand of the prosecution! Opium has been smuggled, some one must be
punished for it. A man has lost his life, some one must hang for the
murder. Undoubtedly the law must have its course, and the criminal
ought to be punished. We are living here in the East, in the home of
the law of retaliation--an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth! This,
gentlemen, is a hard law unworthy of our Western civilisation;
but against it we have the right of inquiry, and our milder code
allows every accused man the right of defence. It is of this right
of defence, that, in behalf of the unhappy man sitting there at your
feet and awaiting his fate at your hands, I now intend to avail myself.

"Now, if the facts were really such as the prosecution has represented
them to be--why then there would be nothing for me to do than to
commend the prisoner to the clemency of the court, or rather I should
say, that I would not, in that case, have undertaken at all the defence
of a cause which my conscience could not justify. I take, therefore,
a totally different view of the matter; and am prepared to lay before
you the grounds upon which I have arrived at a wholly different
conclusion. I beg that you will lend me your attentive hearing.

"But, before entering into the details of this case," continued
the young lawyer, in a voice which clearly betrayed emotion, "allow
me to pay my tribute to the zeal, the devotion, and the undoubted
ability of a man concerning whom I must not speak without reticence,
inasmuch as I am bound to him in the straitest bond of friendship.

"Mr. William Verstork was controller of the district of Banjoe Pahit
when the facts occurred which now claim our attention. Independently
altogether of the action of the Government, he undertook the task of
continuing the investigations which he had initiated. The result of his
inquiry he has submitted to the proper authorities. I ask, why were not
these papers laid before us? Allow me, gentlemen, to pass very lightly
over this most important omission. I could not enter into that subject
without stirring up a pool of iniquity which is immediately connected
with the opium question; and I freely confess that I shrink from thus
occupying your valuable time. For the defence of the unhappy man for
whose interests I am responsible, it will suffice if I now tell you
that the documents to which I allude exist beyond the possibility of
doubt or denial; and that I have here, lying on the table before me,
the authentic copies properly attested and legalised by the Governor
of Atjeh and by the Chief Justice at Batavia.

"You all," continued van Beneden with a courteous gesture, addressing
the public as well as the bench, "you all know William Verstork, and
I would not even mention the noble qualities of that zealous public
servant--there would be no need of doing so--were it not that our
president, Mr. Greveland, has but lately arrived at Santjoemeh. The
interests of my client demand that I should clearly point out to him
that the writer of these documents is universally known as an upright
man, who, in his official capacity, has won for himself the esteem
and affection of all, natives as well as Europeans, that have come
into contact with him. That he is a most dutiful son who, for the
sake of his mother and his younger sisters and brothers, has made the
greatest sacrifices; and that, before this large audience I assert,
without the slightest fear of contradiction, that a more single-minded
and honourable man has never trodden the soil of Netherland's India."

A burst of applause, cheering and clapping of hands followed
immediately upon this general appeal. Mrs. van Gulpendam sat gnawing
her lips with suppressed rage, while the noise drove the usher to
the verge of frenzy.

At length, by dint of much hammering, Mr. Greveland obtained silence,
he rose and said:

"Much as I appreciate this tribute of affection, this spontaneous
testimony to the merits of a distinguished public servant; yet I
must warn the public against such demonstrations either of approval
or disapproval. Should they be repeated it will be my duty at once
to clear the court. Mr. van Beneden, I beg you to proceed."

August had made the most of this interruption, he had wiped his
forehead and refreshed himself with a draught of iced water. He
continued:

"After the fatal evening, William Verstork repeatedly visited
Kaligaweh. He thought he thoroughly knew Setrosmito and remembered
the well known lines of Racine:

   'Un jour ne fait point d'un mortel vertueux
      Un perfide assassin, un lâche meurtrier.'

But, for all that he determined to sift the case to the very
bottom. He made minute inquiries on all sides, and, as the result
of his investigation, he found that the man who is now sitting there
before you crushed under the load of so terrible an accusation, has
ever been an irreproachable husband, a tender and devoted father,
an industrious hard-working labourer--that he is, in fact, one of
those quiet and submissive villagers of which our Javanese population
is chiefly composed, and which make it possible for an entire race,
which may well be called the quietest and meekest on earth, to submit
to the cruel fiscal yoke we have imposed upon it. I have here, lying
on this table before me, the sworn testimony of the wedono of the
district of Banjoe Pahit. He states that on a certain occasion, when
a loerah had to be appointed for the dessa Kaligaweh, the man most
eligible for the post was this same Setrosmito, especially because
he was known never to touch opium; but that he could not recommend
him for the appointment, because the man could neither read nor write.

"Now, gentlemen, I ask you, how comes it to pass that a man bearing
so excellent a character should be brought up here before you as
an opium smuggler and a murderer? An opium smuggler! At those words
your very looks betray what is passing in your minds. You know well
enough what is going on in this residence of Santjoemeh. You turn away
in disgust at the mere mention of the word 'opium smuggler!' But,
let me ask you, upon what grounds has the prosecution founded this
most serious charge? Why, upon no grounds whatever! The prosecution
has not even attempted to bring forth any proof of the prisoner's
guilt. Their case rests entirely upon the unsupported word of one
of the opium farmer's bandoelans--upon the bare assertion of a vile
wretch whom public opinion holds up to public execration as capable
of the lowest and most infamous perjury. Yes, gentlemen, I repeat it
most emphatically, this charge rests upon nothing whatever but upon
the bare word of Singomengolo, and upon that little box which lies
there in evidence before you on this table.

"But, you all must remember, it is not so very long ago, that, on this
very same table, we had before us a number of those little boxes,
all of them the property of that same bandoelan; and that, on that
occasion, you had to acquit the daughter of the prisoner who was also
charged with smuggling; who was charged with smuggling, mind, by that
same Singomengolo. And how did he attempt to prove that charge? Why,
by swearing that he had seized upon her person a box precisely similar
to that which you now see before you. Again I ask you, what proofs have
we that this box was discovered under the pandan-mat of the couch in
Setrosmito's dwelling? We have none! You hear me, I repeat that word,
we have absolutely no proof of the truth of that bare assertion. But,
on the contrary, for the defence, I have the clearest possible proofs
that it never was there at all. We rely on proofs which are absolutely
incontrovertible. And here, gentlemen, allow me once again to turn
to the sworn evidence of my friend William Verstork.

"'When one of the Chinese bandoelans, accompanied by a couple of police
oppassers, presented themselves at the door of Setrosmito's house
for the purpose of making a domiciliary visit, no opposition whatever
was offered to their searching the place. The only precaution taken
was that they were themselves submitted to a search before entering
the premises. On that occasion no opium, nor any vestige of opium
was found; not even under that very pandan-mat on the couch. The two
oppassers and the witnesses Sidin and Sariman, who were present at
the visitation, have expressly sworn to that fact. Sariman indeed has
sworn most positively that the pandan-mat was twice lifted up, and that
the Chinaman had most minutely examined the pillow which lay upon it.'

"That I think is plain enough, gentlemen, is it not?

"But now, allow me to continue with Verstork's sworn declaration.

"Very shortly after they had left, Singomengolo himself appeared to
search the house. He refused point-blank to submit to the usual body
search; whereupon Setrosmito protested and said: 'In that case, no
doubt, opium will be discovered in my house. I know all about these
dodges.' I have the proofs of all this here before me signed by the
Kabajan of the dessa.

"And, of course, opium was found, gentlemen. It was discovered in
the very spot where the Chinese bandoelan, who was no fool either,
had looked twice without making any discovery. That again is clear
enough, I think.

"Opium smuggler! The court will understand that I fling the odious
accusation far, far away from me. Not indeed because the charge has
not been legally proved; for I know that in these opium-cases very
curious evidence is often admitted; but because my client is innocent,
absolutely innocent, of any such offence; because he is the victim of
one of those detestable conspiracies which, as every one well knows,
are commonly resorted to when some obnoxious individual has to be
removed or some sordid wretch thirsts for revenge.

"Opium smuggler! Yes, the prosecution has dwelt at considerable
length and with considerable eloquence upon the millions, the tens
of millions, of which this illegal traffic is robbing the public
exchequer.

"As the Public Prosecutor made his fervent appeal, every heart was
thrilling with emotion, though it may not perhaps have been of a
very noble kind. And, gentlemen, he was perfectly right. Millions,
yea tens of millions are lost to the revenue! But they are not lost
in the manner the prosecution has so graphically described; they are
not conveyed away in little boxes which hold but a minute quantity
of the drug. The millions of which we heard so much just now--Ah,
gentlemen! need I tell you who are the men that thus defraud the
revenue? Why your own hearts have already pronounced their names,
they are trembling now on your very lips. Those smugglers are not poor
dessa-folk, they flaunt their ill-gotten wealth boldly in the face of
our good people of Santjoemeh; and can afford to keep Singomengolos
to remove out of their path any unfortunate creature who may stand in
their way. Shall I mention these names which are even now on every
lip? Why should I do so? An Attorney General once ventured to lay
his finger on the plague-spot and to denounce these criminals to
the Governor General. What did he gain by it? That is the question
I would ask you?"

The young barrister here paused for a few moments, to allow these last
words, which he had driven home like a wedge, time to sink into the
hearts of his hearers. In the pandoppo the deepest silence reigned. The
assembled crowd sat breathless listening to every word as it fell from
van Beneden's lips. On all those faces there was but one expression,
and it said plainly enough "Aye truly! that is the state of things
which the accursed opium-monopoly has created in this island." After
a short pause, August continued:

"I now pass on to the second and far more terrible charge which has
been brought against my client. Shall I be able to purge him of that
accusation as I know that I have cleared him of the former? Here there
is no question of denial. The facts are all plain enough and are all
frankly admitted. The fatal deed has been done, the grave has closed
over the ill-starred victim; and the weapon, the kris with which the
fatal wound was inflicted, lies there before you on the table.

"The prosecution has given us a shockingly graphic description of
the terrible occurrence, and has painted, in the most vivid colours,
the manner in which that kris was slashed across the throat of the
unhappy bandoelan. It is not difficult to see why so much stress was
laid upon the bloody scene, and why we had the loathsome details so
forcibly placed before us. But yet, gentlemen, I venture to think,
that the cause of my client has been benefited rather than damaged by
this vivid word-painting. For the more painful the impression produced,
the more forcibly must the question arise: 'How was it possible that
a creature of so quiet and meek a nature could have been goaded to
a deed of such unbridled fury?' Again I appeal to the testimony of
William Verstork, and I think it well to tell you that I also have
personally and independently made a careful investigation into all the
facts of this most painful case; and the results of my personal inquiry
I will proceed to lay before you. Yes, gentlemen, I also shall have to
be graphic and realistic; but remember that I am merely following the
example set me by the prosecution. Yes, gentlemen, I also shall have
to enter into harrowing and revolting details; but I shall do so only
because the cause for which I am pleading compels me to that course."

And now the young lawyer displayed a power of eloquence such as had
never before been heard in Santjoemeh--never perhaps in all Dutch
India. He made use of words not only but also of gestures. He "acted"
as Mrs. van Gulpendam spitefully remarked to one of her friends.

Yes, he did enact before his spell-bound audience that tragic scene,
building up the entire drama, as Cuvier out of a single bone would
construct the entire skeleton of some antediluvian monster. He made
them see how the opium-hunters penetrated that peaceful dwelling. He
made them hear how Singomengolo haughtily refused to submit to any
examination. One could behold as it were the ruthless ransacking of
all the poor furniture, one could hear the children crying and wailing
at the licentious conduct of the ruffians who had respect neither
for age nor sex. The entire audience shuddered at the "Allah Tobat,"
the frenzied cry of the desperate mother, and one could see also how,
at his wife's bitter cry, Setrosmito's eye had, for a single instant,
glanced away from Singomengolo, and how the latter had profited by
that instant of distraction to draw forth the box of opium with a
gesture of insolent triumph. How rage and indignation wrung from the
unhappy father an abusive epithet which was answered immediately
by a blow in the mouth. How, stung to madness at that insult,
Setrosmito grasped his kris; how at that fatal moment the cry of
little Kembang had drawn the attention of the father to his poor
little girl; how he had seen her exposed to the hideous outrages of
the Chinese bandoelan. All these events the eloquence of the advocate
conjured up, as it were, before the eyes of his hearers. At the words,
"Let go!" uttered with incomparable energy, the audience seemed to
see the father flinging himself upon the astonished bandoelan, who,
dazed by the very imminence of peril, had not sufficient presence of
mind to desist from his outrageous conduct, and thereupon resounded
the terrible words, "Die then like a dog!" in a tone which filled
the entire pandoppo with shuddering horror.

Even Setrosmito, who profoundly ignorant of the Dutch language did
not understand a word of his counsel's speech, and had for some time
been sitting vacantly staring before him, even he, at length, grew
attentive, lifted his eyes inquiringly to the young man's face, and
then kept them riveted upon him with concentrated intensity. No! the
rich flow of words had no meaning to him whatever; but the gestures
he could interpret quite plainly. He saw the whole tragedy unfolded
before his eyes--he saw his outraged child--he saw the hand of the
speaker go through the very action which cost a human life. With eyes
glittering with excitement he nodded again and again at his counsel,
while thick heavy tear-drops kept trickling down his cheeks. "Yes,
that is how it happened," he murmured audibly amidst the deep silence
to the Javanese chiefs while he stretched out his arms imploringly
towards them.

"And," continued van Beneden, with still increasing fervour, "if now,
after having thus laid before you the bare facts of the case, if now I
turn to you with the question: 'Is that man guilty of murder--who slew
another--yes; but who slew him in a moment of ungovernable rage, and
in defence of his innocent child?' What must be your answer? Is there
anyone here who would cast a stone at him who drew the weapon--and who
used it--to preserve his own child from the foulest outrage that can
be perpetrated in a father's sight? Aye but, 'this is a question of
opium-police!' If I could, for a moment, harbour the thought that
anyone present under this roof would, for the sake of the opium
question, desire to hear a verdict of guilty returned against this
man--why then, in sheer despair, I should be driven to exclaim: 'Woe
to the nation that contains such a wretch--woe to the man, who, for
so sordid a principle, would tread Eternal Justice under foot--such
a nation must be near its fall!'"

The effect of these words was simply indescribable, a shudder seemed
to run through the assembly.

"And now," continued the young man turning to the prosecution, "go on
your way, pile one judicial error upon another, erect for yourself
a pedestal so lofty that the cry of the unhappy victim of the opium
traffic--that insatiable Minotaur--will not reach your ears! The time
will come, when, from above, retribution will overtake you. The day
will dawn when the Dutch nation will awake out of its lethargy and
sweep you and your opium-god from the face of the earth.

"As for you," continued August van Beneden turning to the members
of the council and speaking in a more subdued voice, but yet with a
persuasive energy which it was impossible to withstand, "as for you,
gentlemen, place yourselves, I pray you, in the position of that
unhappy man whose eyes were just now dropping tears as I sketched,
in a manner which could reach his comprehension, the terrible deed
of which he is accused. Picture to yourselves the hours--the days of
mortal anxiety he has passed through, and is even now passing through
as his fate is hanging on your lips--then you will in some measure,
be able to realise the unutterable joy with which he presently will
hail the verdict which you will deliver--a verdict of 'not guilty'
which will restore to his wife and family a man who can so sturdily
stand up in their defence."

Having thus said, van Beneden resumed his seat, or rather fell back
exhausted in his chair. It was getting late, the sun was high up
in the heavens, and an oppressive heat weighed like lead upon the
assembled crowd. For a few moments, absolute silence ensued, the
silence of emotions too deep for utterance and which was broken only
by a sob here and there. But then, a tempest of cheering arose which
made the very roof tremble, and amidst which the stentorian voice of
the usher was completely drowned.

This applause and general enthusiasm continued for a considerable time,
and was not hushed until the president had repeatedly threatened to
have the court cleared.

The prosecution was crushed, utterly annihilated. Feeling that his
cause was lost, the djaksa attempted to have the trial adjourned;
but Mr. Greveland saw plainly enough how very undesirable such an
adjournment would be; and he wisely refused to grant it.

Thus compelled there and then to get up and reply, Mas Wirio Kesoemo
could not rise to the level of his subject. He mumbled a few words
which did not awaken the slightest attention--he said something
about the necessity of vindicating the action of the police, he
uttered a few incoherent sentences, he stammered, he drawled, he
repeated himself over and over again, and finally sat down without
having produced any impression whatever. As soon as he had ended,
the president called upon the defence to exercise its right of reply.

With a gesture of lofty disdain, van Beneden refused to avail himself
of his privilege:

"No, no, Mr. President," he said, "anything I could now add would but
lessen the impression made by the prosecution. It is to the weakness
of the charge brought against him, rather than to the power of the
defence, that my client must owe his acquittal."

After a moment's pause the president turned to the panghoeloe and
asked him what law the sacred book prescribed.

In a sleepy tone of voice the latter replied, "An eye for an eye,
a tooth for a tooth--the man has taken a life--the man must die."

A shriek resounded in the pandoppo, a Javanese woman had fainted away.

The members of the council thereupon retired to their consulting
room. After a while they returned into court and the clerk proceeded
to read out an elaborate judgment, wherein, after a number of "seeing
thats" and "whereases," the verdict of "Not Guilty" on both counts was
at length pronounced. Then the real storm broke loose. A great number
of the audience rushed up to van Beneden and warmly congratulated him
on the victory he had just gained. The president, far from trying to
repress the general enthusiasm, now cordially joined in it. August
raised Setrosmito from the floor and whispered some words in his ear
which were immediately afterwards affirmed by the Regent himself.

The poor Javanese cast one single look at his young champion, he
pressed his hand to his heart and uttered a few incoherent words. But
that one look was sufficient for van Beneden, it was the overflowing
of a grateful heart. At the very bottom of the pandoppo one solitary
voice cried out:

"Great is the justice of the whites!"

A few moments after, the pandoppo was deserted. Said Grashuis to
his friend as he was walking home with him: "By Jove, old fellow,
you have knocked the wind clean out of me--I am still under the
spell. That is natural enough; but what I want to know is how you
managed to get the native chiefs on your side?"

"Very simply indeed," replied the other, "I called upon them yesterday
and read my speech to them in Malay."

"Come, come, that's cute!" laughed Grashuis. The young lawyer, however,
did not tell his friend that, at the conclusion of that visit, the
old Regent of Santjoemeh had pressed his hand and whispered to him:

"You are a noble fellow!"

CHAPTER XXXV.

A MEETING IN THE KARANG BOLLONG MOUNTAINS.

On the western slope of the Goenoeng Poleng--that mighty mass of
rock which forms the nucleus, as it were, of the Karang Bollong range
running along the South Coast of Java, and not far from the dessa Ajo
there stood a modest little hut. To the traveller approaching from
the North or from the South, it was completely hidden by the walls
of rock which towered around it. Steeply rising ground but scantily
covered with thin grass and prickly shrubs, shut out all view from
the back of the little cabin. From either side also nothing could
be seen but the rocky slopes, with here and there a small patch of
arable ground. But the front of the hut offered a prospect which,
for loveliness and variety, could hardly be equalled, certainly not
surpassed; and which amply made up for the dreariness of the view on
the other sides.

From the small front gallery or verandah the incline ran down pretty
swiftly, and displayed to the eye a panorama which might in truth
be called magnificent. Immediately beneath this verandah lay the
mountain-slope; at first bald and bare, with huge weather-worn boulders
scattered about here and there, and a few stunted shrubs. Between these
a narrow pathway ran winding down. In its tortuous course it seemed to
rival the brook, as, twisting and bubbling and splashing and foaming,
it went merrily and swiftly dancing down its fantastically-cut bed. As
gradually the slope ran down to the valley, the vegetable kingdom
began to assert itself more and more. At first there appeared dwarf
trees with curiously twisted trunks and strangely gnarled branches,
these, in their turn, gave way to the more luxuriant representatives
of the realm of Silvanus, and these again gradually merged into a rich
plantation of fruit-bearing trees, above which the tall cocoa-nut palms
reared their feathered heads waving and nodding to the breeze. Beyond
this, at the foot of the mountain, lay the little dessa Ajo, snugly
embowered in a mass of glossy foliage. Very pleasant to look at from
the eminence were the dwellings of the native villagers with their neat
brown roofs and bright yellow fences peeping here and there through
the rich verdure, reflected in the waters of the Kali Djetis, which
forms the western boundary of the dessa; and which, at that point,
makes a majestic sweep before emptying itself by a wide mouth into
the Indian Ocean.

The view of that ocean still further enhanced the beauty of the grand
panorama which lay stretched out in front of the little hut. On a
fine calm day the deep-blue expanse of water extended far--endlessly
far--away to the horizon, glittering under the rays of the tropical
sun like a metallic mirror; while numerous fishing boats, with their
white but quaintly-shaped sails, hovered about the Moeara Djetis,
and skimmed like birds over the glassy surface. When, however, the
South-East trade was blowing stiffly, and the flood-tide helped to
raise the waves, the aspect of the ocean was entirely changed. Then
not a single boat was to be seen; but heavy breakers came tumbling
in, and, as these reached the mouth of the river, and met the body
of downflowing mountain water, they would tower up and roll along
steadily for awhile as a huge wall of solid blue, then curl over
into mighty crests, and finally break into a foam-sheet of dazzling
whiteness. This magnificent spectacle, a kind of prororoca on a small
scale, could be watched from the verandah in its minutest details.

The hut itself was but a very poor little dwelling; constructed, as
those places generally are, of such primitive materials as bamboo and
atap. It consisted indeed merely of four walls and a roof. It had a
door in front and behind, which gave access to a small verandah, while,
in the side-walls, two square shutters did duty for windows. Whether
or not the space within was divided into separate apartments we cannot
tell. There are secrets into which a novelist must not venture to pry;
and there are feelings which, even he, must know how to respect. It
may be his duty--his painful duty--to introduce his readers to an
opium-den, and reveal to them the horrors it conceals, if, by so doing,
he may reasonably hope to do something to cure a crying evil; but he
ought not, without sufficient reason, to invade the sacred rights of
privacy by throwing open to his readers a cottage wherein--

But, modest as was the little building which stood there lonely
and deserted on that mountain slope, and poor as was its outward
appearance, yet there existed a very marked difference between it
and the other cabins, the dwellings of the dessa people, far down at
the foot of the mountain. The difference consisted herein, that it
was scrupulously neat and clean, and bore no trace whatever of the
slovenliness and general want of cleanliness which is too often the
characteristic of the houses of the ordinary Javanese villager. The
Javanese, indeed, are an Eastern race. As such they have certain
points in common with all the other branches of the great Oriental
family, whether we call them Moors, Hindoos, Arabs, Chinese, Egyptians,
Berbers, aye, or even Greeks, Italians, or Spaniards. The entire house
from top to bottom, from the roof of fresh nipah leaves to the hedge
of yellow bamboo hurdle, looked bright and clean. The small plot of
ground in front was carefully laid out as a trim garden with well
kept paths and pretty bits of green lawn. The flower-beds also, and
the ornamental shrubs, which grew around, spoke of careful tending,
while an impenetrable hedge of the conyza indica enclosed the entire
nook. At the back of the house lay a patch of grass, evidently used
as a drying ground, for several articles of female apparel, such as
slendangs, sarongs, and the like, were hanging on ropes stretched
over bamboo poles, and fluttered in the breeze.

In the front gallery a single flower-pot was conspicuous, a thing very
seldom found in any Javanese house, in which flowered a magnificent
"Devoniensis" in full bloom; and close by stood a native loom, at
which a young girl was seated cross-legged on a low bamboo stool.

Wholly intent upon her work, she is plying the shuttle with nimble
fingers. As novelist, we are, to some extent, a privileged being,
and may venture to draw near though we would not intrude into the
little house. The girl is so deeply absorbed in her task that we have
leisure, unperceived, to examine the further contents of the verandah;
but specially to watch its solitary occupant. That she has for some
considerable time been hard at work, the reel tells us; for it already
contains quite a thick roll of tissue, the result of her day's toil;
so does, likewise, the spinning-wheel, which stands hard by, ready
to supply the shuttle with thread as soon as it may need replenishing.

As regards the girl herself, she is, just now, bending forward over her
work so that we cannot catch even a glimpse of her features. Her dress,
consisting of a simple jacket of light-blue cotton, and the sarong made
of some dark-coloured material, with a gay flowering pattern, proclaim
her to be a Javanese. So also do the hands and such parts of the face
and neck as we are able to see, by their brownish yellow tint. So
again does the hair which is combed away smooth from the forehead
and rolled up at the back of the head in a thick heavy kondeh or plait.

Aye, but--that kondeh, however carefully it may have been plaited and
fastened up, yet it at once awakens our curiosity. Little rebellious
locks have here and there strayed away, and very unlike the stiff
straight hair of full-bred Javanese beauties, they curl and cluster
lovingly around the plait, while the shorter hair under the kondeh
also forms crisp little curls which cast a dark shade over the
light-brown neck.

"Might she be a nonna after all?" we murmur inaudibly.

Our suspicion is strengthened when, by the side of the little stool,
our eye lights upon a pair of tiny slippers. These slippers are not
remarkable in any way, they are of the simplest make and wholly devoid
of ornament; but it strikes us at once that in Java girls or women
hardly ever wear such things, and then--more remarkable still--their
size and shape point to the fact that the owner's feet in no way
correspond to the broad, splay feet of the natives.

As we stand wondering and losing ourselves in surmises, the weaving
girl very slightly changes her position, and one snow-white toe comes
peeping out from under her sarong. The startling difference of colour
betrays the secret at once: She is a nonna!

Wholly unconscious of our proximity the girl looks up and casts a
single glance at the fair view stretched out before her--she utters
a deep sigh and--

"That face," we murmur inwardly, "where have we seen that pretty face?"

We have, however, no time to collect our thoughts, for, the next
moment as the young girl is again bowing her head to resume her work,
a quick light footstep is heard on the path which leads to Ajo. The
girl looks up, evidently scared at the unusual sound, she peers
anxiously forward and then, almost bereft of the power of speech by
the suddenness of the surprise, she gasps forth the cry, "Dalima!"

Yes, it is indeed Dalima who, with nimble step, has crossed the garden
and is now running up to the verandah. The weaving-girl starts up from
her stool, and before her unexpected visitor has time to mount the
three steps, the pair are locked in each other's embrace and forming,
as it were, but one exclamation we hear the words:

"Nana!"

"Dalima!"

Now the mystery is cleared up, now we recognize at once both the one
and the other. That weaving girl is Anna van Gulpendam and the other
is poor Dalima whom we followed in her anxious and painful search as
far as Karang Anjer when we lost sight of her until now.

"Where have you come from?" asked Anna, as again and again she clasped
the Javanese girl to her breast.

"To-day I came from the dessa Ajo," archly replied Dalima.

"What brought you there?"

"Well, I came from the dessa Pringtoetoel, that's where I was
yesterday."

"But," continued Anna, "what business had you there?"

"The day before that," resumed Dalima not heeding the interruption,
"I was at Gombong and the day before that again at Karang Anjer."

"At Karang Anjer?" exclaimed Anna. "What induced you to go there?"

"To look for my Nana," was the reply.

"To look for me? Is that why you have come all the way from
Santjoemeh? Have you undertaken so long a journey to look for me?--and
in your condition too!"

Anna spoke these last words with some hesitation, while the furtive
glance she cast at the poor girl's figure left no doubt as to her
meaning.

"Yes, Nana," replied Dalima very quietly and without the least trace
of confusion. "As soon as ever I left the prison, thanks to the aid of
the young judge," continued she, as she fixed one penetrating look upon
Anna who felt the blood fly up to her cheeks at the words, "I went to
look after my mother. Thanks again to toean Nerekool, I found her and
the children well provided for. My next thought was for my Nana. The
toean had told me that the nonna was no longer staying at Karang
Anjer but had left, and had vanished without leaving a trace behind
her. I thought I could guess why. I knew how lonely, how forsaken,
how utterly miserable my dear Nana must feel. An irresistible longing
came over me--the longing you know of a young woman in my situation--"
she added with a faint sad smile, "to go at once and look for Nana
so that I might be of some service to her. I started and--"

"Does toean van Nerekool know of all this?" asked Anna much alarmed.

"No, Nana, he knows nothing whatever about it."

"You did not tell him what you were going to do?"

"No, Nana, I did not."

"Might you not perhaps have dropped some hint to Mr. van Nerekool,
or may be to your mother? Do, Dalima, try and remember!"

"No, I have not given toean Charles the slightest hint of my
intention. I told my mother that I was going to seek for you."

"Where?" asked Anna.

"Well, Nana, at Karang Anjer."

"But you knew that you would not find me at Karang Anjer?"

"Oh, I knew that; but I wanted to see Mrs. Steenvlak. I thought she
would be sure to tell me where you had gone."

"Did you go to Mrs. Steenvlak?" inquired Anna,

"Yes, Nana."

"And--?"

"I could learn nothing from her. The njonja confessed that she knew
where you were; but she refused to tell me--she said she had promised
not to let anyone know."

Anna drew a deep sigh of relief.

"But how then did you manage to find me, Dalima?" she asked.

"Well, Nana, how shall I tell you that? It is such a long story. I
have been wandering about in all directions, I have made inquiries
everywhere. I asked at the posting-houses, at the loerahs of each dessa
I passed through. I questioned the gardoes and the stall-keepers on
the road. In fact I asked everywhere and everybody. In my wanderings,
at length I happened to come to the dessa Pembanan."

"The dessa Pembanan!" cried Anna in the greatest agitation.

"Yes," resumed Dalima, "that's where I found the first trace. You
took a cup of coffee there at a stall while you had to wait for the
pole of your sedan to be repaired."

Anna glanced down uneasily at her yellow-stained hands.

"Oh! it is no use looking at your hands," continued Dalima with
a smile. "The old stall-keeper has sharp eyes and the stain could
hardly deceive her. She guessed at once that you were either a nonna
or a princess."

"Well, go on!" sighed Anna.

"You asked her how far Pembanan was from the dessas Sikaja and
Pringtoetoel--did you not?"

"Yes, that is so," replied Anna.

"Very well, then, that clue I have followed, up hill and down dale."

"Poor, poor dear girl!" cried Anna, as with tears in her eyes she
again clasped Dalima to her breast. "Poor child! such a journey, and
in your condition, too! Yes, now I see how worn and weary you look!"

"Oh, that's nothing!" cried Dalima cheerfully, "that's nothing,
I am strong enough, Nana, don't trouble yourself about that.

"At Pringtoetoel," she continued, "I got further information. There
they told me that you had gone on to the dessa Ajo. When I got there
I found the very sedan in which you had travelled--it was stowed away
in the loerah's grounds--and they told me that you had a house built
for yourself up here--How very pretty!"

As she said this Dalima looked around; and an involuntary sigh
escaped from her lips, a sigh which contrasted strangely with her
spoken words. The Javanese girl could not help comparing this wretched
little tenement with the stately Residential palace at Santjoemeh.

Hitherto the conversation had been carried on standing, the girls half
leaning upon, half embracing one another. Said Anna, who perfectly
understood the meaning of that sigh and wished to break the train of
Dalima's thoughts:

"Come, let us sit down, you must be dead-tired, poor Dalima."

So saying she resumed her seat on the little bench while Dalima,
as in days gone by, squatted down on the mat at Anna's feet and laid
her head lovingly in her mistress's lap. Then the conversation flowed
on as briskly as before.

"No, Nana," said Dalima, "I am not the least tired. I arrived yesterday
morning, very early, at Ajo and have had plenty of time for rest."

"But now," resumed Anna, "do tell me something about yourself, about
your own affairs, about the trial and all that."

Thereupon followed the story with which our readers are acquainted. We
need hardly add that in the telling of it van Nerekool's name was
by no means forgotten. Dalima's deep gratitude to her benefactor
would not allow her for an instant to neglect his interests. It even
seemed as if that gentleman's name was introduced into her story more
frequently than the narrative strictly required. So much so that Anna
could not help saying:

"Will you assure me, will you swear, that it was not at Mr. van
Nerekool's suggestion that you have undertaken this journey in quest
of me?"

"Yes, Nana, I will swear it," replied Dalima readily and with the
utmost candour.

"And now," continued Anna, "you must make me another promise, and
that is that you will never in any way whatever, let him know that
you have succeeded in finding me."

Dalima made no reply. For a few moments she hesitated.

"Now listen to me, Dalima," resumed Anna very firmly, "if you will
not make me that promise, and promise it most solemnly, then we must
part. You will have to leave me and I shall go elsewhere. Heaven only
knows where I shall go to!"

One instant the Javanese girl looked up at her companion
incredulously--then seeing that Anna was in downright earnest she
exclaimed:

"Not stay with you, Nana! Oh! do not say so. I who have travelled
so far to be with you. You cannot mean it. Not stay with you? But
that can never be. I have left my parents, my friends, my home,
my all--only to be close to you--and now you talk of parting!"

The poor child could get no further; uncontrollable sobs stifled
her voice.

"No, no!" cried Anna, who was in reality no less deeply moved than
her companion; "no, no, very far from it. Above all things I wish
to keep you here with me; but you must promise that you will not let
anyone know where I am hiding--will you promise that?"

Dalima flung herself weeping into her mistress's arms:

"You are so lonely here, so miserably poor!" she sobbed.

"Oh, that is nothing," cried Anna, "never mind that; I have got used
to it."

"He loves you so dearly, so tenderly," pleaded the baboe.

"Not another word on that subject, Dalima," said Anna, very sternly;
"you cannot possibly understand how insurmountable a barrier there
exists between Mr. van Nerekool and myself. There can never be
a question of marriage between us, let me tell you that once and
for all."

The baboe made no immediate reply, but went on sobbing and weeping
as if her heart would break.

"Will you make that promise, Dalima?" insisted Anna.

"I owe him so much," sobbed Dalima, "I am so anxious to make him
happy."

"You would be doing him the greatest wrong, Dalima."

"Wrong?" cried the baboe, "how so? by bringing him to you; oh, Nana!"

"Once again, I say not another word on that subject," cried Anna; and
then, taking her companion's hand she continued: "Now, Dalima, give
me your hand--so, that is right; now you will give me your promise,
will you not?"

"It makes my heart ache to think of it," sobbed Dalima, "but if you
will have it so, I must obey. I give you my promise."

"That's a good girl," said Anna cheerfully, but with a painful
smile. "Now I am glad that you have come, for you will be able to
help me, oh! ever so much. Look what a splendid striped material I
have here on the loom."

"Do you make those things, yourself, Nana?" asked Dalima in pitying
accents, "you, the daughter of a kandjeng toean Resident?"

"Now, Dalima," said Anna sadly, "that is another subject you must never
mention. Not a soul knows me here. They do not so much as suspect
that I am a white woman. They take me for a Solo princess who has
been banished by her father--you told me so yourself--Oh! there are
such funny stories about that, the one funnier than the other. You see
that name of poetri is of the greatest use to me. The good dessa-folk
look upon me as a kind of supernatural being and it protects me from
all danger. Why even the old woman who sells my goods takes me for
a relative of the Queen of the South, and can get much better prices
for me than the things would otherwise fetch."

"Do you sell those 'kains' you make, Nana?" exclaimed Dalima, folding
her hands in sorrowful wonder, "you, the child of a kandjeng toean?"

"But Dalima," replied Anna, with a smile, "that child of a kandjeng
toean, as you call her, must eat like other mortals. Come, I must get
on with my work, we have wasted too much time already in talking. That
kain polèng mas has been ordered and I must get it done as soon
as possible."

So Anna set to work again at the loom. Dalima, for a little while,
sat watching her with tearful eyes; but presently she jumped up, took
the spinning-wheel and placed it close to the loom so that they could
continue their conversation without allowing their hands to be idle,
and then began industriously to spin. So clever did she show herself
at the wheel that Anna gave her an approving nod and said:

"That's right; now I shall have some real help and we shall get on
famously. Nothing kept me back so much as that continual spinning
every time my spool was empty."

"Oh, but," said Dalima, with a smile, and not without a touch of pride,
"I can do a good deal more than spinning. You will see I can take my
turn at the loom as well. I am a particularly good hand at painting
on linen."

"Indeed, I am glad to hear that; then you will be of the greatest use
to me; for I must confess I am as yet rather awkward at it though I
have improved very much since I began. Before we go and get dinner
ready I must show you some of my productions in that line."

Thus chatting, the girls went on working diligently for another
couple of hours until it became time to go to the kitchen. In that
department also, everything was poor enough. It required no very
elaborate cookery-book to prepare their simple meal. Dalima would
not allow her Nana to have any hand whatever in the cooking. She
took the basket of raw rice, ran to the brook which flowed hard by,
thoroughly washed the grains until the water ran off clear through the
basket. Then she put the koekoesan on the fire in a dangdang, wrapped
a little salt fish with herbs and Spanish pepper in pisang leaves to
make pèpèsan ikan, and roasted them slightly over the glowing coal
fire. Next she toasted a few strips of meat and had everything ready
long before the rice was done.

"Now, Nana," she asked as she looked around, "where is our table and
the table-linen? I want to lay the cloth."

"You forget, it seems, Dalima, that I have turned Javanese. If I wish
to remain unknown, I must conform, in every respect, to the manners
and customs of our dessa-people There is my table and these are my
knife and fork."

Thus saying, Anna pointed downwards to the pandan mat which covered
the floor and then held up her taper fingers.

Dalima heaved a deep sigh.

"But, Nana," she asked, "can it be necessary for you to work and to
live thus? Have you then no money at all?"

"Money!" replied Anna, who retained all her pride in the midst of
her adversity, "I have plenty of money, I am very well off, I might
indeed call myself rich for one in my position. But you must not
forget that I am in hiding; and that if I did not work and did not
live exactly like the natives, they would begin to suspect me and
then my hiding-place would very soon be discovered. Moreover, who can
tell what the future may have in store; the day may come when that
money which I now so carefully hoard, though you may perhaps think
me stingy, may be of the greatest use to us?"

"Oh, Nana!" cried the baboe, as she strove to put in a word.

But Anna would have no arguments.

"Come, come," said she, "let us change the subject. While the rice
is boiling, come and see how I have been getting on with my painting."

She took Dalima into the back-gallery where stood several frames on
which were stretched the tissues she had woven and which showed the
process of painting in all its stages. On one of them the piece of
linen was as yet pure white and the flowers which were to be painted
were only lightly traced upon it. Another frame showed the designs
partly covered with wax, so as to protect these parts from the action
of the dye. On a third again the ground colour had been applied and
the wax had been removed from such portions of the design as were
to receive the next coat of paint. Neatly arranged around stood
the small pots of colours, of indigo, of red paint, of brown paint,
of yellow paint, and so forth.

All these things Dalima surveyed with the critical eye of an expert
and she highly approved of the arrangements. She took up a saucer
which held the wax, and having held it to the fire, she proceeded,
by means of a little tube, to pour the melted substance on one of
the drawings and so gave proof of her skill in that kind of work.

"You see, Nana!" she cried, triumphantly, "you see how useful I shall
be to you! I shall also teach you how to use the 'aboe Kesambi' (ashes
of the Scheichera trijaga), I don't see any about here--then you will
see how vastly your flowers will improve in colour and softness."

Thus then had baboe Dalima found a home on the slope of the Goenoeng
Poleng. Thus she was again united to the young mistress to whom
she was attached with a fervour of devotion which is not uncommon
among Javanese servants. Both girls toiled and moiled together. Anna
insisted upon taking her full share in all the drudgery of the little
housekeeping--and whatever objections the baboe might strive to
make, Anna would share and share alike. In Dalima she had acquired
not a servant; but a true and faithful companion and friend, and a
comforter and supporter in the time of her bitter trial. How long
was that peaceful life to last--?

CHAPTER XXXVI.

LIM HO'S WEDDING.

On a fine September morning, of the same year in which the other
events of our story took place, Santjoemeh was once again in a state
of commotion. And no wonder. For that day had been fixed upon for
the marriage of Lim Ho. Of Lim Ho, the son of the opium farmer,
the son of the millionaire Lim Yang Bing, with Ngow Ming Nio,
the prettiest Chinese girl of Santjoemeh, the prettiest perhaps in
all Dutch India. She was the only daughter of old Ngow Ming Than, a
speculator who had dealt in every possible thing out of which money
could be made, and who was honoured, esteemed and sought after for
the sake of the millions he had scraped together. Money everywhere
exercises a certain power of attraction; not otherwise was it at
Santjoemeh, and the union of two such enormous capitals was certain,
therefore, to awaken general interest. Moreover, a Chinese wedding
of this kind was a very rare occurrence, and the reports of the
magnificence which the house of Lim Yang Bing would display on the
occasion, were so extravagant that they bordered on the miraculous,
and opened to the imagination visions like those of the Arabian Nights.

All Santjoemeh--taking these words in the same sense as "tout Paris"
on similar occasions--had been scheming and intriguing to obtain an
invitation; and many a pleasant smile had been lavished on babah Ong
Sing Kok, or on babah Than Soeï, the purveyors of Mesdames Zoetbrouw
and Greenhoed, ladies who, in the ordinary way, did not waste their
blandishments on Chinamen, because it was thought that these gentlemen
had a pretty large acquaintance among the staff of servants on Lim
Yang Bing's establishment, and that through them the much coveted
card of invitation might be procured.

There were some who were wicked enough to whisper, that a certain nonna
had promised one of Lim Ho's cousins to give him a kiss if he would
procure her parents a ticket for admission. The wicked went on to say,
that this Chinaman, a shrewd fellow--like most of his race--had refused
to undertake the negotiation, unless he received payment on account; an
instalment which was not to count on the day of final settlement. That
these negotiations had been very much protracted owing to the many
difficulties which would constantly arise; that, on every such check
in the proceedings, progress had to be reported to the young lady,
and that our artful young Celestial had made every fresh effort on
his part depend upon the payment of another instalment on hers. If
all this were true, then the poor nonna must have paid pretty dearly
for her ticket--in kisses. That, however, is the story of the wicked,
it is not ours. On that September morning then, Santjoemeh was in a
fever of excitement and expectation. If here and there perhaps Lim
Ho's ugly adventure with baboe Dalima had not been forgotten, the
remembrance of that outrage did not damp the general enthusiasm, or
keep any one at home. Those who were troubled with a somewhat tender
conscience, laid the flattering unction to their soul that, as there
had been no prosecution, probably the whole story was false, or that,
at the worst, no great harm had been done. Others there were who
fully believed the truth of the reports which had been spread abroad;
and who actually envied Lim Ho his "bonne fortune." That Dalima was
such a pretty girl! Oh, no! there was no one who would deny himself
the expected pleasure on that account. It was very much the other way.

The evening before the eventful day, Santjoemeh had had something like
a foretaste of the coming joy. For, on that evening, a procession
had started to the Chinese temple. Now, marriage has, in the
celestial empire, no necessary connection whatever with any religious
observances; yet, on the present occasion, it had been thought well to
propitiate the goddess Má Tsów Pô, the guardian and protecting deity
of candidates for matrimony and of newly married people. Accordingly,
on the eve of the wedding, a procession had been formed in front of
the bride's house. First came a numerous band of native musicians who,
on their brass instruments accompanied by a drum of monstrous size,
performed a selection of waltzes, polkas, mazurkas and redowas. In
spite of the horrible dissonance of their execution, these lively
tunes would have set even Johann Strauss a jigging could he but have
heard them. Then followed a corps of Chinese artists whose grating
one-stringed fiddles, clashing cymbals and discordant screeching
wind-instruments, alternated with the former band; and produced a mixed
medley of hideous sounds, which literally set one's teeth on edge,
and put all but the most inveterate sightseers to instant flight. At
the head of the procession and in its rear, marched six torch-bearers,
while eight paper lanterns were born aloft on red poles on either
side. These shed a soft coloured light and, by their fantastic shapes,
imparted a thoroughly Chinese air to the scene. But the nucleus,
and most important part of the pageant, consisted of twelve boys who
walked two and two, and were called 'lo jen see' (barefeet). They
were dressed in short nankin gowns reaching only to the knee, under
which appeared the bare legs and feet, and on their heads they wore
tall conical caps, trimmed with red fringe. Each of these youths held
in his hand the pa-lee, or hollow metal ring containing little bits
of iron, from which hung small copper bells. With these, the bearers
made a gentle rattling sound as they marched along.

When the temple was reached, the boys grouped themselves around the
image of Má Tsów Pô, a deity represented as standing on the clouds
and wearing a crown in token of her dignity of Queen of Heaven. Then,
to a kind of measure, they began to mumble and chaunt their prayers
and incantations, shaking their ring the while incessantly. This went
on for about the space of an hour, and then the procession reformed
and marched homeward with a far greater crowd at its heels than had
accompanied its setting out.

The next day, however, was the great day.

Very early in the morning carriages began to rattle through the
streets of Santjoemeh, to fetch the landowners, officials, and other
distinguished guests, who lived in the country round about. On the
stroke of ten the élite of the Residence had assembled in the vast
inner-gallery of Lim Yang Bing's mansion. The gentlemen were all in
full-dress, in uniform, or in black evening dress; the ladies wore
ball toilettes; and at the entrance a number of Chinese boys were
stationed to hand to each of their fair guests a bouquet of lovely
pink roses. As one by one the principal guests drove up, crackers were
let off, varying in number according to the social position of the
individual who presented himself. If two or more happened to enter
together, bunches of crackers were exploded in exact proportion to
the number of visitors; and sometimes these fireworks exploded with
a din that was almost deafening.

At length Mr. van Gulpendam and his fair spouse made their
appearance. They were received and escorted into the house by
Chinese officers with the most punctilious ceremony. At his entrance,
two copper serpents were exploded, and there were flatterers among
the company who declared to Laurentia and to Lim Yang Bing, that,
compared to the din these terrible serpents made, an eruption of
Krakatoea was but child's play.

The object of this infernal noise was two-fold. It was useful on the
one hand to frighten away the evil spirits who might be lurking about
the premises, and, on the other, it served as an expression of joy
and as an evidence of cordial welcome to the visitors.

As soon as the Resident had arrived, a long line of the intimate
friends and acquaintances of the bridegroom, accompanied by the
inevitable band and by the barefeet who had officiated on the
previous evening, started off to fetch the bride from the house of
her parents. Meanwhile, the major and the captain of the Chinese
did the honours of the feast, while the lieutenants of that nation
acted as masters of the ceremonies. Nothing could be more courteous
than the manner in which these gentlemen acquitted themselves of their
onerous duties. They attended to every want, they offered refreshments;
and soon the popping of champagne corks indoors began to mingle with
the incessant banging of the fireworks without; and generous wine,
iced in huge silver bowls, was foaming and sparkling in the crystal
glasses. For the ladies, there was an ample supply of hippocras,
Golden water, Chartreuse and other liqueurs.

Lim Yang Bing had offered his arm to fair Laurentia, and the pair
walked leisurely up and down that stately saloon, which, under ordinary
circumstances, might be called magnificent, but had now been specially
decorated with the utmost skill and taste. The woodwork, the pillars,
the beams and architraves of the apartment were all curiously carved
and heavily gilt, and represented either hideous dragon-forms, or else
scenes of domestic life in China. The walls were tinted a delicate
rose-colour, and the floor, of pure Carrara marble, was covered with
matting woven of the finest split rottan. At the end of this splendid
saloon stood the altar of Tao Peng Kong gorgeously decorated, while
wide strips of red silk, bearing black Chinese letters, hung on either
side of the sanctuary.

"Tell me, babah," asked the Resident's wife, "what may be the meaning
of that scribble on those red rags?"

"They are proverbs, njonja, taken from Kong Foe Hi," gallantly replied
the Chinaman.

"Yes, but what do they mean?"

"That one, njonja, signifies: 'May the five blessings abide in this
house.'"

"And the others?"

"They are the names of the five blessings."

"Ah indeed!" continued Laurentia, "and what are those blessings?"

"A long life, peace and rest, love of virtue, wealth and a happy end
as the crown of life."

"And what do the letters on those lanterns signify? I say, babah,
they are very fine!" said Laurentia pointing upward at the lanterns,
depending from the ceiling and from the beams.

They were handsome hexagonal contrivances skilfully made, in the
Chinese style, of wrought copper, and having large plates of pure
polished crystal let into the sides.

"Yes, yes, njonja," assented the babah with a complacent smile,
"as you say they are very beautiful objects; but they cost a good
deal of money. Now could you give a guess at the price of one of
those copper lanterns?"

"Not I, babah! how could I? let me see--they may be worth some fifty
guilders."

"Fifty guilders!" exclaimed the Chinaman with something like pity
for her ignorance. "Oh, njonja, how could you have made such a bad
shot. Why! I thought you prized the masterpieces of our Chinese art
somewhat more highly than that!"

"Well!" said the crafty woman, "and what, pray, may be the value of
the things?"

"Every lantern, njonja, you see hanging there, has cost me in Canton,
three hundred and fifty guilders, without reckoning carriage and duty."

"Oh, never mind that!" laughed Laurentia, "I daresay you managed to
smuggle them across."

"No, njonja, by Kong, no! I can show you the receipt from the
custom-house. Will the njonja--"

"No, babah, don't trouble yourself, I take your word for it. But what
may they have cost you altogether?"

"Close upon four hundred guilders a piece, njonja."

"There are about thirty of them I should think," said Laurentia.

"Only five and twenty, njonja."

"Only! Only five and twenty!" said Mrs. van Gulpendam smiling. "It
is pretty well, I should say--ten thousand guilders worth of lanterns!"

Lim Yang Bing's face glowed with satisfaction. Like most parvenus he
took an intense delight in letting every one know what he had paid
for the precious objects he exhibited.

"And look, njonja," he continued, "pray look at those tigers."

With these words the opium-farmer pointed to a pair of red marble
tigers. The figures were life-size and were represented crouching on
two black marble pedestals at the foot of the two pillars one on each
side of the altar.

"Yes, babah, I admire them much--they are very fine indeed! They must
have cost a pretty penny I should think?"

"Each one of those figures represents five thousand guilders, njonja."

"But babah!" cried Laurentia.

"You see, njonja," said the babah sententiously, "when one gives a
wedding party of this kind, one ought to do it well. Have you noticed
that cock over the altar yonder?"

"I see it, babah, I see it, how exquisitely it is carved."

"It is cut out of a single block of peachwood," said the Chinaman,
"that little thing alone has cost me twelve hundred guilders."

"I say, babah! you must be a rich man," remarked Laurentia.

"So, so," replied the Chinaman inordinately proud in his assumed
modesty. "Do you happen to know what the wedding breakfast and this
evening's banquet will cost me?"

"No, I don't--do tell me, babah!"

"Well, I will--they will stand me in very nearly fifteen thousand
guilders."

"Why, babah! you must be a very rich man," said Laurentia in a
wheedling voice.

"Oh, not very," whined the Chinaman. "But you don't know how much I
give my son as my wedding gift."

"You mean to Lim Ho, the bridegroom? No, I cannot guess--do tell
me, babah?"

"Two millions!" he whispered, fairly beside himself with delight.

"Two million guilders!" exclaimed Laurentia, feigning the utmost
surprise. "Why, babah, you must have a mint of money!"

"No, njonja, not overmuch!"

"And all of it out of your opium contract, eh?"

The Chinaman looked at his fair companion, he gave her a very strange
look; that word opium had completely sobered him.

"And you have only had the contract for three years, I think,
babah?" continued Laurentia.

Lim Yang Bing nodded assent. In his heart he was beginning to curse
his boasting and vapouring.

"Have you seen the Resident lately?" asked Laurentia carelessly,
but determined to strike while the iron was hot.

"No, njonja," replied the Chinaman politely, but with none of his
former gush.

"I know he wishes to speak to you about the contract--it runs out I
think with the current year?"

"Yes, njonja."

"And I think the monopoly for the next three years will be granted
some time this month?"

"Yes, njonja."

"Do you intend to bid for it, babah?"

"I think so, njonja."

"Yes, njonja! no, njonja! I think so, njonja!" cried Laurentia
mimicking the poor Chinaman most comically, "But, hush, someone
is listening--What do you say is the meaning of those words on the
lanterns, babah?"

The last question she asked in her ordinary tone of voice, with that
light-hearted giggle which was peculiar to the handsome woman.

"Those letters mean: 'We pray for happiness and prosperity.'"

"Thank you, and on that one yonder?"

"The word on that one signifies: 'Lantern of Heaven?'"

Thus talking they had walked away out of ear-shot.

"Now," resumed Laurentia in a subdued voice, "now we can go on with
our conversation:

"You seem to be very lukewarm about that monopoly business, babah. I
fear you will have a competitor at the auction."

"Who is he?" asked Lim Yang Bing somewhat eagerly.

"I have heard the name of Kwee Sioen Liem mentioned, the Solo man;
you know!"

"Indeed," muttered the Chinaman evidently much put out.

"Yes, they say he is a rich man, he may do you some damage perhaps,
babah," continued Mrs. van Gulpendam fixing her glittering eyes upon
her companion.