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Computational Intelligence-based
Optimization Algorithms
Babak Zolghadr-Asli
Designed cover image: Shutterstock
First edition published 2024
by CRC Press
2385 NW Executive Center Drive, Suite 320, Boca Raton FL 33431
and by CRC Press
4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN
CRC Press is an imprint of Taylor & Francis Group, LLC
© 2024 Babak Zolghadr-Asli
Reasonable efforts have been made to publish reliable data and information, but the author and
publisher cannot assume responsibility for the validity of all materials or the consequences of their use.
The authors and publishers have attempted to trace the copyright holders of all material reproduced in
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Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks and are used
only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Zolghadr-Asli, Babak, author.
Title: Computational intelligence-based optimization algorithms :
from theory to practice / Babak Zolghadr-Asli.
Description: First edition. | Boca Raton, FL : CRC Press, 2024. |
Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2023019666 (print) | LCCN 2023019667 (ebook) |
ISBN 9781032544168 (hardback) | ISBN 9781032544151 (paperback) |
ISBN 9781003424765 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Computer algorithms. | Computational intelligence.
Classification: LCC QA76.9.A43 Z65 2024 (print) |
LCC QA76.9.A43 (ebook) | DDC 005.13–dc23/eng/20230623
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023019666
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023019667
ISBN: 978-1-032-54416-8 (hbk)
ISBN: 978-1-032-54415-1 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-003-42476-5 (ebk)
DOI: 10.1201/9781003424765
Typeset in Times
by Newgen Publishing UK
Contents
List of Figures xi
Foreword xv
Preface xvii
3 Genetic Algorithm 49
3.1 Introduction 49
3.2 Algorithmic Structure of the Genetic Algorithm 53
3.2.1 Initiation Stage 53
3.2.2 Reproduction Stage 55
3.2.3 Termination Stage 60
3.3 Parameter Selection and Fine-Tuning of the Genetic Algorithm 61
3.4 Python Codes 62
3.5 Concluding Remarks 65
Index 337
Figures
This is a unique reference book providing in one place: information on the main
meta-heuristic optimization algorithms and an example of their algorithmic
implementation in Python. These algorithms belong to the class of computa-
tional intelligence-based optimization methods that have addressed one of the key
challenges plaguing mathematical optimization for years –that of dealing with dif-
ficult and realistic problems facing any industry with resource restrictions. What do
I mean by difficult and realistic? Instead of simplifying the problem that needs to be
solved due to the limitations of the method, as was the case with many mathemat-
ical optimization algorithms, these meta-heuristics can now tackle large, complex,
and previously often intractable problems.
The book includes 20 meta-heuristic algorithms, from the now-classical gen-
etic algorithm to more “exotic” flower pollination or bat algorithms. Each of the
algorithms is presented as far as possible using the same structure so the reader can
easily see the similarities or differences among them. The Python code provides
an easy-to-access library of these algorithms that can be of use to both novices
and more proficient users and developers interested in implementing and testing
some of the algorithms they may not be fully familiar with. From my own experi-
ence, it is much easier to get into a subject when somebody has already prepared
the grounds. That is the case with this book, if I had it on my desk 30 years ago,
I would’ve been able to try many more different ways of solving problems in engin-
eering. With this book, I may still do it now!
Dragan Savic
Professor of Hydroinformatics
University of Exeter, United Kingdom
and
Distinguished Professor of Hydroinformatics
The National University of Malaysia, Malaysia
Preface
xviii Preface
chapter, which we highly encourage you to do, you can go to a given chapter and
learn all there is to understand and implement an algorithm fully. Each chapter also
contains a brief literature review of the algorithm’s background and showcases
where it has been implemented successfully. As stated earlier, there is a Python
code for all algorithms at the end of each chapter. It is important to note that, while
these are not the most efficient way to code these algorithms, they may very well
be the best way to understand them for beginner to intermediate programmers. As
such, if, as a reader, you have a semi-solid understanding of the Python syntax
and its numeric library NumPy, you could easily understand and implement these
methods on your own.
1 An Introduction to Meta-Heuristic
Optimization
Summary
Before we can embark upon this journey of ours to learn about computational
intelligence-based optimization methods, we must first establish a common lan-
guage to see what an optimization problem actually is. In this chapter, we tend
to take a deep dive into the world of optimization to understand the fundamental
components that are used in the structure of a typical optimization problem. We
would be introduced to the technical terminology used in this field, and more
importantly, we aim to grasp the basic principles of optimization methods. As a
final note, we would learn about the general idea behind meta-heuristic optimiza-
tion algorithms and what this term essentially means. By the end of this chapter, we
will also come to understand why it is essential to have more than one of these opti-
mization algorithms in our repertoire if we tend to use this branch of optimization
method as the primary option to handle real-world complex optimization problems.
1.1 Introduction
What is optimization? That is perhaps the first and arguably the most critical
question we need to get out of the way first. In the context of mathematics, opti-
mization, or what is referred to from time to time as mathematical programming,
is the process of identifying the best option from a set of available alternatives.
The subtle yet crucial fact that should be noted here is that one’s interpretation of
what is “best” may differ from the others (Bozorg-Haddad et al., 2021; Zolghadr-
Asli et al., 2021). That is why explicitly determining an optimization problem’s
objective is essential. So, in a nutshell, in optimization, we are ultimately trying to
search for the optimum solution to find an answer that minimizes or maximizes a
given criterion under specified conditions.
Optimization problems became an integrated part of most, if not all, quantita-
tive disciplines, ranging from engineering to operations research and economics.
In fact, developing novel mathematical programming frameworks has managed to
remain a topical subject in mathematics for centuries. Come to think of it, there is
a valid reason that optimization has incorporated itself into our professional and
personal modern-day life to the extent it has. This is more understandable in the
DOI: 10.1201/9781003424765-1
2 An Introduction to Meta-Heuristic Optimization
context of engineering and management problems, where there are often limited
available resources, and the job at hand is to make the best out of what is at our
disposal. Failing to do so would simply mean that in the said procedure, whatever
that may be, there is going to be some waste of resources. This could, in turn,
imply that we are cutting our margin of profits, wasting limited natural resources,
time, or workforce over something that could have been prevented if the process
were optimized. So, in a way, it could be said that optimization is simply just good
common sense.
There are several formidable approaches to go about mathematical pro-
gramming. The traditional approach to solving optimization problems that are
categorized under the umbrella term of analytical approaches is basically a series
of calculus-based optimization methods. Often these frameworks are referred to
as derivate-based optimization methods, given that they rely heavily on the idea
of differential algebra and gradient-oriented information to solve the problem. As
such, the core idea of these methods is to utilize the information extracted from the
gradient of a differentiable function, often from the first- or second-order deriva-
tive, as a guide to find and locate the optimal solution. The main issue here is that
this could not be a practical method to approach real-world optimization problems,
as these problems are often associated with high dimensionality, multimodality,
epistasis, non-differentiability, and discontinuous search space imposed by
constraints (Yang, 2010; Du & Swamy, 2016; Bozorg-Haddad et al., 2017). As
such, often, these methods are dismissed when it comes to handling intricate real-
world problems as they are not by any means the ultimate practical approach to
tackle such problems.
The alternative approach here would be to use a series of methods that are
categorized under the umbrella term of sampling-based approaches. These, to some
extent, use the simple principle of trial-and-error search to locate what could be
the optimum solution. These methods are either based on unguided or untargeted
search or the searching process that is guided or targeted by some criterion.
Some of the most notable subcategories of unguided search optimization
methods are sampling grid, random sampling, and enumeration-based methods.
The sampling grid is the most primitive approach here, where all possible solutions
would be tested and recorded to identify the best solution (Bozorg-Haddad et al.,
2017). In computer science, such methods are said to be based on brute force com-
putation, given that to find the solution, basically, any possible solution is being
tested here. As you can imagine, this could be quite computationally taxing. While
this seems more manageable when the number of potential solutions is finite, in
most, if not all, practical cases, this can be borderline impossible to implement
such an approach to find the optimum solution. If, for instance, the search space
consists of continuous variables, the only way to implement this method is to
deconstruct the space into a discrete decision space. This procedure, known as
discretization, transforms a continuous space into a discrete one by transposing an
arbitrarily defined mesh grid network over the said space. Obviously, the finer this
grid system, the better the chance of getting closer to the actual optimum solution.
Not only it becomes more computationally taxing to carry this task, but from a
An Introduction to Meta-Heuristic Optimization 3
theoretical point of view, it is also considered impossible to locate the exact optimal
solution for a continuous space with such an approach. However, it is possible to
get a close approximation of the said value through this method.
Another unguided approach is random sampling. The idea here is to simply
take a series of random samples from the search space and evaluate their perform-
ance against the optimization criterion (Bozorg-Haddad et al., 2017). The most
suitable solution found in this process would then be returned as the optimal solu-
tion. Though this process is, for the most part, easy to execute, and the amount
of computational power needed to carry this task can be managed by limiting the
number of samples taken from the search space, as one can imagine, the odds of
locating the actual optimum solution is exceptionally slim. This is, of course, more
pronounced in complex real-world problems where there are often numerous con-
tinuous variables.
The other notable approach in the unguided search category is enumeration-
based methods (Du & Swamy, 2016). These methods are basically a bundle of
computation tasks that would be executed iteratively until a specific termination
criterion is met, at which point the final results would be returned by the method as
the solution to the optimization problem at hand. Like any other unguided method,
here, there is no perception of the search space and the optimization function itself.
As such, the enumeration through the search space would be solely guided by the
sequence of computational tasks embedded within the method. In other words,
such a method could not learn from their encounter with the search space to alter
their searching strategies, which is in and of itself the most notable drawback of all
the unguided searching methods.
Alternatively, there are also targeted searching methods. One of the most notable
features of this branch of optimization is that they can, in a sense, implement what
they have learned about the search space as a guiding mechanism to help navigate
their searching process. As such, they attempt to draw each sample batch from what
they learned in their last attempt. As a result, step by step, they are improving the
possibility that the next set of samples is more likely to be better than the last until,
eventually, they could gradually move toward what could be the optimum solution. It
is important to note that one of the distinctive features of this approach, like any other
sampling method, is that they aim to settle for a close-enough approximation of the
global optima, better known as near-optimal solutions. The idea here is to possibly
sacrifice the accuracy of the emerging solution to an acceptable degree to find a close-
enough solution with considerably less calculation effort. One of the most well-known
sub-class of the guided sampling methods is meta-heuristic optimization algorithms.
However, before diving into what these methods actually are and what they are cap-
able of doing, it is crucial that we improve our understanding of the structure of an
optimization problem and its components from a mathematical point of view.
Optimize f ( X ) (1.1)
X ∈R N
Subject to
gk ( X ) ≤ bk ∀k (1.2)
Lj ≤ xj ≤ U j ∀j (1.3)
in which f() represents the objective function, X is a point in the search space of an
optimization problem with N decision variables, N denotes the number of decision
variables, gk() is the kth constraint of the optimization problem, bk denotes the con-
stant value of the kth constraint, xj represents the value associated to the jth deci-
sion variable, and Uj and Lj represent the upper and lower feasible boundaries of
the jth decision variable, respectively. Note that in an optimization problem with N
decision variables, an N-dimension coordination system could be used to represent
the search space. In this case, any point within the search space, say X, can be
represented mathematically as a 1×N array as follows:
(
X = x1 , x2 , x3 ,…, x j ,…, x N ) (1.4)
variable; that is to say, we want to figure out which type of filter should be installed
to get the best result. The variable may also be binary in nature. This means that
only two possible values can be passed for that variable. For instance, if we want
to figure out whether an industrial site should be constructed in a place where we
tend to maximize the margin of profits. Here the variable could be either going
ahead with the project or shutting the project down. Mathematical programming
terminology refers to all three cases as discrete variables. Alternatively, a deci-
sion variable may also be a float number, which is a number drawn from the real
number set. An example of this would be when you want to determine the max-
imum amount of partially refined industrial site wastewater that can be released
back into the stream without violating the environmental regulatory thresholds set
to protect the natural ecosystem. In mathematical programming terminology, such
a case is an example of a continuous variable. Of course, in real-world optimiza-
tion problems, we may have a combination of discrete and continuous variables.
These are said to be mixed-type optimization problems.
1.2.4 Constraints
Usually, optimization problems are set up in a way that decision variables cannot
assume any given value. In other words, an optimization problem can be limited by
a set of restrictions or constraints that bounds them between often two acceptable
thresholds. Often, this is because resources are limited, and as such, it is impos-
sible to pour unlimited supplies into a process or an operation. For instance, if you
intend to optimize the company’s workflow, there are budget and human resources
limitations that need to be accounted for. In addition to this, there are some legal
or physical restrictions that pose some limitations to the problem. For instance, in
An Introduction to Meta-Heuristic Optimization 7
optimizing the schedule of a power plant, some safety measures restrict how you
can operate the plant, even if there are resources available to pour into the system.
Another example of this would be optimizing the design of an infrastructure, where
tons of regulatory and physical restrictions must be considered in the optimization
process.
From a mathematical standpoint, two types of constraints can be found in an
optimization problem. The first type of restriction is what in mathematical pro-
gramming dialect is referred to as boundary conditions. Here the restrictions are
directly imposed on the decision or state variables themselves. As such, a decision
or state variable should always be within a specified boundary. This could either
mean that the said variable should always assume a value between a lower and
upper boundary or that the boundary is only applied in one direction. A general
representation of such boundary conditions can be seen in Equation (1.3).
The other form of restriction is non-boundary conditions, which pretty much
sums up any other form of restriction that can be imposed on an optimization
problem. From a mathematical standpoint, this means that a function of two or
more decision or state variables is bound to hold a specific condition. This could
mean that the said function should be equal to, greater, or less than a specified
constant. A general representation of such boundary conditions can be seen in
Equation (1.2). Note that while an optimization problem may have no condition, it
may also be restricted by multiple conditions of different sorts.
In mathematical programming lingo, a solution that can hold all the possible
constraints of the optimization problem is referred to as a feasible solution. On
the other hand, if a solution violates even one condition, it is labeled an infeasible
solution. It is important to note that the ultimate goal of optimization is to find a
feasible solution that yields the best objective function value. This simply means
that an infeasible solution can never be the answer to an optimization problem,
even if it yields the best result.
The idea behind optimization is to identify the so-called optimum solution out
of all available solutions. As we have seen earlier, in an optimization problem
with N decision variables, any solution can be mathematically expressed as an N-
dimensional array. By the same token, the combination of all the possible solutions
to an optimization problem can be interpreted mathematically as an N-dimensional
Cartesian coordinate system, where each decision variable denotes an axis to the
said system. This would create a hypothetical N-dimensional space, which in math-
ematical programming dialect is referred to as the search space. The idea is that
any solution is a point within this coordination system, and the main point of opti-
mization is to search through this space to locate the optimum solution.
As the previous section shows, not all solutions can be valid answers to an
optimization problem. In fact, any answer that violates at least one constraint is
considered an infeasible solution and, as such, cannot be passed as a viable result to
the optimization process. With that in mind, the search space could be divided into
8 An Introduction to Meta-Heuristic Optimization
two mutually exclusive sections that are feasible space and infeasible space. The
former constitutes the portion of the search space where all constraints can be held,
while one or more constraints are violated in the latter area. Naturally, the solution
to the optimization problem must be selected from the former space. Note that the
constraints can be assumed as a hyperplane that divides the search space into two
mutually exclusive sections. Based on the condition of the said constraint, either
one of these parts constitutes the feasible space, or the hyperplane itself denotes
this space. If more than one condition is involved, the intersection of all the feasible
portions will denote the feasible search space. In other words, the feasible space
should be able to satisfy all the conditions of the optimization problem at hand.
Note that, in mathematical programming lingo, the portion of the search space in
which all the boundary conditions are met is called the decision space. Figure 1.1
illustrates the search space of a hypothetical constrained two-dimensional optimiza-
tion problem.
1.2.6 Simulator
As we have seen earlier, state variables play a crucial role in the optimization
process. Their role is often more pronounced in intricate real-world optimization
An Introduction to Meta-Heuristic Optimization 9
f (X* ) ≤ f (X ) ∀X (1.5)
10 An Introduction to Meta-Heuristic Optimization
f (X* ) ≥ f (X ) ∀X (1.6)
f ( X ′) ≤ f ( X ) X −ε ≤ X ≤ X +ε (1.7)
It is quiet now on deck. The singing forward has ceased, the watch
is set, and the larboard watch, who are to come on at midnight, are
below—including the tall corporal of marines, whom we heard just
now singing bass. But the little monkey of a boy, who took the tenor
part in “O Julia!” belongs to the starboard watch, and now has
another occupation on hand.
Seated on a tub turned upside down, close to the foremast, he is
reading aloud, by the light of a lantern, out of an “awfully fine” book.
The boy (his name is Jozef) can read “real first-rate”; and from
each of the listeners seated round him he is to receive the sum of two
cents.
The book which he now has before him, and which is covered with
oil-stains, because he has to hold it so close to the lantern,—the book
which is so “awfully fine,” is entitled “Count Matatskai; or, The
Bandit with the Grey Beard: A Story from the Mountains.”
Count Matatskai is a youthful nobleman who has fallen in love
with a mountain maiden, the beautiful but fierce Krimhelia, daughter
of a chamois-hunter. After various meetings on the rocks by
moonlight, with a faithful old servitor incognito in the background,
Krimhelia makes up her mind to accept the Count’s love, and fly with
him to a distant country, where counts and the daughters of
chamois-hunters stand precisely on the same social footing. But now
a difficulty occurs, and it is this: Krimhelia has sworn an oath to
avenge the death of her father, who has been killed in a fight with the
band commanded by the Grey-Bearded Brigand.
This is the point Jozef has reached in the story. Several of his
audience have already dropped asleep; but the reader does not notice
it—he is too much absorbed in his narrative,—and continues, in his
“first-rate” manner, which—heard at a distance—reminds one of
nothing so much as of the soft but continuous murmur of a babbling
brook—commas and other stops being, in this method, so entirely
left in the background, or else occurring in such remarkable places,
that a reporter would have been forced to reproduce his text
somewhat as follows:—
“Krimhelia looked the Count straight in the face.
“Look at me Count said she do you see this glittering dagger as
sure as the moon, hangs yonder in heaven and illuminates my pale
features so surely will I thrust this, dagger into the heart of the
Bandit, with the Grey Beard first and before I throw myself as your
consort into your arms but why so pale Count and why do you
tremble so?”
Now Jozef is interrupted by the master-tailor, a thin, little man, of
whom it is commonly said on board that he knows a thing or two
more than most people.
“Now, I know,” says he, in his piping voice.
“What d’ye know?” asks the boatswain, who has little or no
opinion of the master-tailor.
“As how the gentleman—the Count, I mean—and the other,—the
Bandit with the Grey Beard,—that both of them are one and the same
man.”
“Well, you calico-spoiler—you know that, do you? Well—I know
that too, and all of us know it right enough; but you needn’t take
another man’s share in the reading for all that. Go ahead, boy!”
The master-tailor is looked at with contempt from various
quarters, and Jozef pursues his reading with a chapter describing
how Count Matatskai comes home in a bad temper.
“The Count threw himself down on a couch adorned with costly
velvet, relieve me of my riding-boots—thus he spoke to the grey-
headed old servant Gabario who, brought him a silver goblet with
sparkling wine saying, that this was his favourite wine from the great
vineyard south of the castle but, the Count made a gesture of refusal
with his left hand and said me liketh no wine Gabario avaunt and
saddle—my horse!”
This was the end of the chapter, and Jozef took breath.
“It’s a capital thing,” said the boatswain, “when a man can have the
things for the ordering in that way. What comes next, Jozef?”
The boatswain is beginning to feel sleepy, and would therefore like
Jozef to tell him the end at once; but this Jozef is by no means
inclined to do,—he goes ahead valiantly, and by degrees, though he
does not observe it, his whole audience drops asleep. At last, when he
has reached the closing scene, there is no one to listen to it but the
master-tailor, who can scarcely keep his small grey eyes open.
“Just hear this, now!” says Jozef, who—though he has read the
book through twice before—is as enthusiastic over this passage as the
first time. “Now you must listen! Now the Count is sitting up alone in
the rocks, in a ... cavern, they call it, ... and now he is the Bandit with
the Grey Beard; and the other robbers are sitting in the back of the
cavern round a great big fire, and some of them are lying asleep, and
the others are roasting great pieces of meat at the fire, and they’re
drinking wine with it ... out of gold cups that they’ve stolen.... But the
Bandit with the Grey Beard— ... he’s sitting all by himself, you see,—
and now Krimhelia comes in—you know—the young lady he thinks
so much of.”
And Jozef resumes his reading—how Krimhelia approaches,
cautiously, with the glittering dagger; how the Grey-Bearded Bandit,
looking up, suddenly sees her standing behind him; how Krimhelia
seizes him by the beard and drives the dagger into his heart; and
how, at the same moment, the long grey beard comes off in her hand,
and she looks with horror on the “pallid dying countenance” of Count
Matatskai.
Now follows a dialogue between the dying bandit chief and the
“almost fainting” Krimhelia, who is “filled with consternation”; in the
course of which the tailor finally closes his eyes unobserved.
Now comes the closing scene; the other robbers come out from
behind the fire, Krimhelia takes to flight, and climbs to the top of a
steep dark rock on the edge of a “yawning abyss.”
As Jozef reads, he bends over his book, leans his head on his
hands, and sees the whole thing taking place before his eyes. He sees
Krimhelia standing on the top of the rock. The day is breaking in the
east. The robbers are pursuing her, and begin to climb the rock....
Jozef reads on,—at a passionately accelerated pace, and with the
most singular stops imaginable:—
“There she stood proudly—like a queen with her long, loose hair
and her shining white face standing out sharply against the red
sunrise-tinted sky with horror—she saw in the unfathomable depth
at her feet the bandits approaching. Already the foremost was
stretching out his hand to seize her and she saw, the morning-light
falling on his horrible features when suddenly, her ear was struck by
a sound of men’s voices singing beneath her in the valley she listens,
it is the morning song of her brothers, she lifts her hands skywards
and looks up to the paling moon and the stars ‘Ic-come’! she cries”
(all in one word) “... and with a HOARSE shriek she flings herself down
into the abyss at the same moment the Bandit Chief drew his last
breath and the Count Matatskai was no more THE END.”
“That’s all!” said Jozef. “That’s fine, ain’t it? ... Oh! lor! ... they’re
all asleep.”
Jozef cannot at once get over a slight feeling of indignation against
an audience, capable of dropping-off “in the middle of a bit like
that,”—but as it is not an isolated experience on his part, he soon
makes up his mind to pay no further attention to it. He takes the
lantern away, goes forward, and lies down on the deck with the oil-
stained book under his head—looking up at the moon right above
him, and beginning to see, in the air, all sorts of figures, which
gradually acquire a likeness to Count Matatskai and the “young lady
he thinks so much of.”
A. Werumeus Buning.
NEWSPAPER HUMOUR.
Natural History.
Master—“The development and improvement of race has not only
shown itself among mankind, but may clearly be observed among the
lower animals. Who can give me an example of this?”
FROM SAD
EXPERIENCE.
Janneke Snobs—“I, sir.”
M.—“In what sort of animals?”
J. S.—“Among asses, sir.”
M.—“How so?”
J. S.—“Why, in Balaam’s time, asses were only just beginning to
speak, and yesterday I heard M. Snugger say that there are plenty of
asses sitting in the Chamber of Deputies.”
History.
Master—“In what battle was Gustav Adolf killed?”
Janneke Snobs—“In his last battle, I believe, sir.”
Precautions.
Many centuries ago, the gallows stood on the banks of the Scheldt;
and once, when two thieves were to be hanged, the rope broke, as the
first was being turned off, and let him into the water. He swam
across the river, and escaped.
“Look out!” said the second to the executioner, “see that the rope
does not break with me—for I can’t swim!”
In Court.
Judge—“Is this your signature?”
Witness—“I don’t know.”
Judge—“Look at it carefully.”
Witness—“I can’t say for certain.”
Judge (impatiently)—“Come, make haste, just write your name.”
Witness—“I’m no scholar, sir; I can’t write.”
Economy.
Father—“I should never have thought that studying would have
cost so much money.”
Student-Son—“Yes; and if you only knew how little I have
studied!”
Van Honsbœren, junior, one evening sat gazing at his father, when
the latter had fallen asleep sitting by the stove.
“Father,” cried the little fellow, suddenly, “you look just like a
lion!”
“A lion!” exclaimed Van Honsbœren, waking up, “why, you’ve
never seen any lions.”
“Oh yes, father! on the beach at Blankenberghe.”
“You stupid boy, those were not lions, they were donkeys.”
“Well, those are what I mean!”
The human being who can pass a hoarding marked “Wet Paint,”
without putting his finger on it to feel if the paint really is wet,
possesses strength of will and self-control enough to rule a kingdom.
A lady having run against the freshly painted rail of a bridge, and
carried off a considerable quantity of the paint on her dress, the
bridge-keeper said to her consolingly,—
“Never mind, ma’am, they’re going to paint it again to-morrow,
any way!”
FARMER GERRIT’S VISIT TO AMSTERDAM.
Gerrit Meeuwsen and his son Gijs, living in the depths of the country, in the
Betuwe district (the old Batavian Island, between the Rhine and the Waal), have
made up their minds—after long deliberation—for an expedition by rail to the
Amsterdam kermis. As they have never left home before, preparations are made
which suggest an Arctic voyage, and they take a solemn farewell of their friends
and relations. The railway station is safely reached, after a drive of many miles;
and Gerrit severs the last link, so to speak, by sending back Jan—the farm-man—
with the trap.
“G’morning,” said father and son, at once.
“Good-morning, friends,” replied the station clerk, who was seated
at a table doing sums.
Meeuwsen took off his great woollen gloves, hauled out his double-
cased watch, and said, “Might it be about time for the railway to
come?”
“Don’t know,” answered Gijs, who thought that his father was
asking the question of him.
The clerk, a good-natured fellow, understanding that the question
was addressed to him, replied, “Oh! I suppose you mean the train.
Yes, that will be coming by very soon,—perhaps in thirteen, or
fourteen, or fifteen minutes. Where do you want to go?”
“To Amsterdam,” replied Meeuwsen.
“Amsterdam—third-class?” asked the clerk.
“Third-class, what’s that?” returned Gerrit.
“Three classes, you know, my good friend,” the clerk explained;
“first, second, and third. The first is the dearest, the second middling,
and the third the cheapest.”
“Then the third won’t do for us, nor the second neither,” said
Gerrit. “I always sit in the first seat at church in our village, for I be
churchwarden.”[16]
“First-class?” asked the clerk, in surprise, “but—do you know——”
“Never you mind; I want first-class, do you hear?” said Gerrit.
“Well, it’s all the same to me,” said the clerk, rising. He went to the
place where he kept the tickets, stamped two, and received the rich
Betuwers money.
“Gracious! there’s the train!” cried the clerk, whose calculation of
fifteen minutes had been rather too liberal. “Will you come out,
please?”
Gerrit and Gijs, the latter carrying the carpet-bag, rushed out on to
the platform, followed by the clerk. The approaching train seemed to
the travellers to grow longer the more they looked at it, and, when it
stopped, both father and son involuntarily took a step backwards.
Neither Gerrit nor Gijs knew exactly what happened to them next;
but when they got back all their senses,—for the wind was blowing
freshly in their faces,—they saw themselves in a carriage containing,
besides themselves, two other passengers, and which allowed free
passage to the wind on all sides.
“Bad weather for the money,” grumbled Gerrit.
“Why! come and sit over here,” cried one of their fellow-travellers,
apparently a Jew, who was sitting on the opposite side of the
carriage, with his back to the engine. “Sit here, on the first seat; you
will be frozen to death over there.”
Gerrit looked at his son, and then both stumbled along the shaking
carriage to the other end, and occupied the end seats.
“That’s a difference!” said Gijs, whose skin felt like that of a
plucked chicken.
“Well, this does shake!” said Meeuwsen. “No!—that third-class is
enough to kill one!”
Nathan, who was reading a book, which, as Gerrit could see,
seemed to begin at the end and go backwards, did not speak again.
The second travelling-companion had turned up the collar of his
thick overcoat and was snoring; and our two gentlemen from
Betuwe, having nothing to say to each other, were silent, and thought
—what, no one ever will know.
After a few minutes’ run, a conductor appeared—whence, neither
Gerrit nor Gijs could understand—and asked them, “Where for,
gentlemen?”
“Gentlemen!” exclaimed Gerrit, with fine scorn, “that won’t go
down with us!”
“Farmers, then!” said the conductor, “where for?”
Meeuwsen thought the fellow had no manners, and said, “I and my
son for Amsterdam.”
“Show your tickets, please,” said the conductor.
Meeuwsen began to search for them.... “I’d put them away so
carefully,” he remarked, while turning out all his pockets.
“Well, never mind,” resumed the conductor (he was very cold, and
wanted to get back to his warm corner in the closed compartment),
“you can show me them presently.”
“Very good,” replied Gerrit, who began to think the man was not so
bad after all.
The conductor disappeared again, in the same mysterious fashion,
and Gerrit suddenly remembered that he had put away the tickets
inside his watch-case.
At every station, when the whistle of the engine was heard, Gijs
was seized with consternation, thinking that a child or some other
living creature had been run over. Every time the train stopped, the
sons of Batavia prepared to alight, and each time they were politely
stopped by Nathan, who told them they might just make their minds
easy, for they had not got there yet. Gijs thereupon came to the
conclusion that the journey would not be over so soon as the
schoolmaster had led them to suppose.
At length, after they had left the last of the intermediate stations
behind, the mysterious conductor appeared once more, and asked for
the tickets; and Gerrit, who had kept them carefully in his hand,
under his woollen glove, produced them, and gave them up.
“First-class!” said the conductor. “Why, man, you’ve certainly had
the best for your money!”
“Hi?” said Meeuwsen, who could not understand what the fellow
meant.
“Stupid bumpkins!” muttered the conductor in an undertone,
happily inaudible to the Meeuwsens, and left the carriage with a loud
“Amsterdam, gentlemen!” The train now stopped for good. Every one
got out, and there was such a row that Gerrit and his son could not
understand what was going on, and stood staring about them quite
dazed.
People, carriages, cabs, omnibuses, trunks, drivers with
brandished whips, crying, “This way, sir!—Hotel this!—Hotel that!—
just off!” There was such a swarming and confusion that our
travellers only regained their full consciousness when they found
themselves sitting in an omnibus, packed, knee to knee, like herrings
in a barrel,—and, probably, dreaming—at least, so they thought.
“Where to, sir?” asked the conductor of the omnibus, in a green
coat trimmed with silver lace, of the person sitting next the door.
“The Dam,” was the answer. “Botermarkt,” said another passenger.
“Rokin, No. 11,” said another; and another followed with “The Mint.”
“Sir?” said the inquisitive man, addressing Gijs.
“I?” asked Gijs, staring wildly; “to the Fair, isn’t it, father?”
All the passengers laughed, except three or four who were in a
hurry to get to the Exchange.
“Be’st mad, I think, boy,” said Gerrit, grinning. “No, mate,” he
went on, addressing the conductor, “to a lodging.”
“Which hotel?” was then the question. “First, second, third, fourth,
fifth class? Rondeel, Doelen, Munt—or do you want to go to the
Nes?”[17]
Whether Gerrit was thinking of the third-class carriage in which he
had been sitting with Gijs, and contrasting it with the imaginary
first-class where he found a place by the side of Nathan, we do not
know; but it is certain that he shivered at the idea of a fifth-class, and
had his answer ready at once—
“First-class, man! First-class!”
“Vieux Doelen!” cried the conductor, with a smile and a furtive
wink at the passenger next the door.
The omnibus stopped, and Gerrit and Gijs were beckoned to come
out. How they ever got through the double row of knees is quite
incomprehensible; and twice did the heels of Gijs’ heavy boots come
unpleasantly in contact with corns, whose proprietors, therefore,
unkindly addressed him as “Clumsy lout!” and “Dumb ass!”
“How much is it?” asked Gerrit.
The conductor gave a look round, and then said, under his breath
—
“Only ten stivers[18] each, sir. I can’t ask you for more.”
Meeuwsen gave him a florin, whereupon he asked whether the
gentleman couldn’t spare him a trifle for himself!
This question was answered by the good-natured farmer thrusting
a kwartje[19] into his hand; and the unscrupulous rascal drove away,
laughing in his sleeve.
Gerrit, and Gijs with the carpet-bag on his back, stared for a long
time at the fine house, with the gilt letters on the front; and at length
ventured to go up the steps, though they could not make up their
minds to venture in.
“What do you want?” politely asked a handsome young gentleman,
in a snow-white waistcoat and a beautiful black jacket, who came out
of the broad hall and walked up to them.
“Lodgings,” answered Gerrit.
“For yourself?” asked the young gentleman, who, seen at close
quarters, seemed older than his jacket would have led one to
suppose.
“I and my son Gijs,” said Gerrit.
“You?” again asked the young gentleman.
“Is that so hard to understand?” asked the farmer. “Are there no
lodgings here? Can we get them, or can’t we?”
The young gentleman walked away, and stopped to speak to
another young gentleman like unto himself, who met him in the
corridor. Soon after two more arrived, one of them with a napkin
over his arm, and all the four began to laugh immoderately; so that
Gerrit began to be tired of waiting, and, approaching the group, said,
with some violence, “Now, what is it to be? Are we to get rooms, or
are we not?” The young gentlemen continued to giggle, but suddenly
stopped, and scattered with surprising rapidity, for a dignified
elderly person entered the vestibule, and asked what was the matter
here. Whereupon Gerrit expounded to him that he had asked, in a
straightforward and downright way, for lodgings; that he did not
know what the young gentlemen were up to; that he had come with
his son to attend the fair; that he had no mind to be what-you-may-
call-ummed and made a fool of by those young gentlemen; and that
he asked, once more, Could he, or could he not?
The respectable gentleman took a good look at Gerrit and Gijs—the
latter was still outside the door with the carpet-bag—for some
moments; but the open honest face, and generally prosperous
appearance of the farmer, reassured him as to the probability of their
being good customers. He then laid his forefinger against his nose,
and called out to one of the young gentlemen,—
“No. 71 and 72, Karel. Allons!”
Karel came. Gerrit beckoned Gijs to come in. Gijs also came.
“Take the gentleman’s luggage,” said the proprietor of the hotel to
Karel, pointing to the carpet-bag, which Gijs still carried over his
shoulder.
“Oh, no! thank you,” said Gijs, as the young gentleman Karel went
about to relieve him of his load. Karel, however, did not leave go. The
proprietor was present; and, in spite of Gijs’ asseverations that he
was far too kind, he seized the bag and flew up the broad staircase
like a jumping rabbit.
“If you will follow, gentlemen,” said the proprietor, “the garçon
will show you your rooms.” Gerrit, putting up, for the sake of peace,
with the title of gentleman, followed the flying garçon, and Gijs
followed his father.
“Where are we going to?” cried the stout farmer, to whom climbing
of stairs was an unaccustomed exercise.
“To No. 71 and 72,” said the garçon.
“I don’t care what number it is—number thousand, if you like—but
I didn’t come here to climb up a tower!”
“We shall be there directly,” said Karel, still flying on ahead.
“Go on, then!” said Gerrit, taking courage; and on they went again,
up stairs and more stairs—there was no end to it.
“Are we not there yet?” sighed Meeuwsen, when Gijs had counted
the forty-fifth flight of steps, and they had come to an arched
doorway.
“This way round!” cried Karel, and flew on, still higher.
“No! that’s too much; I give it up!” cried Gerrit, holding fast to the
banisters. “It’s enough to drive a man crazy! I’ll go no farther.”
“Only a few more,” said Karel persuasively. At last, when Gijs had
counted sixty-three, the two, panting and gasping, reached their goal
—Nos. 71 and 72.
“Ici,” said Karel, throwing open both doors almost at the same
moment.
“Ici or no ici” muttered the farmer, “what I say is that no decent
man can be expected to do it!”
“This is your room,” said Karel, pointing to No. 72, as he saw that
Gijs was about to follow his father into No. 71.
“I?” ejaculated Gijs.
“S’il vous plaît” said the waiter, and flinging the carpet-bag into
No. 71, he left the rooms, stood still in the passage between the two
apartments, and looking at father and son by turns, went on, “Any
more orders? Will the gentlemen dine at the table d’hôte, at half-past
four?”
Gijs understood not a single word of this; and Gerrit, who likewise
did not grasp the subtleties of the situation, answered shortly, “No,”
being mortally afraid of having to do any more climbing.
Karel having had enough of this exalted society, uttered no further
questions or remarks, slammed both doors, reached the ground floor
by sliding down the banisters, and left the father and son, each in his
own room, to their respective meditations.
The well-furnished rooms were only divided from one another by a
thin wooden partition, and their windows afforded a delightful view,
to wit, a red-tiled roof, from which arose a tall black chimney.
Gijs looked round, like a cat in a strange warehouse, and did not
think Amsterdam so very beautiful after all.
“Boy! where are you?” shouted Gerrit. “What are we to do now?
Just come here!”
“Can I do that, father?” roared Gijs, in a voice that could easily
have been heard in the street.
“Of course!” cried Gerrit.
Gijs went on tiptoe to his door, and, speeding as though death
were at his heels, out of No. 72 and into No. 71.
“Look here, boy!” said Gerrit, when his son was safely inside, “here
we sit, and I’m so hungry that I can’t see straight.”
“So am I,” asseverated Gijs.
“Then you ought to call,” said his father, “and we might order
something.”
Gijs muttered something about “so strange,” and “if father were to
do it himself,”—but, like a dutiful son, he went to the stairs, and
shouted—very much as he was accustomed at home to call the calves
to their food—“Huup! huup! huup!”
No one came. At last a door opened, and an old gentleman in hat
and greatcoat came out, and passed Gijs.
“Oh!” said Gijs, his shyness giving way before his own hunger and
his father’s orders, “would you be so kind as to order something to
eat for us!”
“Pull the bell, you young donkey!” was the polite reply. The donkey
departed without a word, and, after some searching, Father
Meeuwsen found a rope hanging in No. 71, at which he pulled,—and
lo! they heard a bell ring. A minute later Karel was again standing
before them.
“You must bring us something to eat,” said the farmer, who now
began to understand that the young man was a waiter.
“Déjeuner à la fourchette?” asked Karel.
“Don’t know those things,” replied Gerrit. “I’ve never eaten
desernages, nor forzettes either. Just bring us something, my lad,—I
don’t much care what, so long as we can get something inside us.”
Flop went the door again; and five minutes later there arrived at
No. 71 some strange substances of whose nature Gerrit and Gijs had
not the remotest idea. They began, however, to try and to taste, and
though they could scarcely get the things down their throats, they
were messed up so queerly with sweet stuff and spice, they managed
to satisfy their appetites somehow.
“I’ve had enough,” said Gerrit at last.
“So have I,” sighed Gijs, and they rose from table,—to go to the
kermis.
We will not relate in detail how Gerrit and Gijs climbed downstairs
again, went out at the front door, and announced that they would
come back again in the evening; how they were besieged by beggars,
shoeblacks, and Jews selling lottery tickets,—nearly all of whom the
good-natured farmer succeeded in satisfying; how they were directed
from one part of the town to another, and back again, in order to
reach the fair; how and when they got there they found booths, just
like those in their own village, but much bigger and finer ones. We
will not record how much Gerrit paid for the monster cake which he
wished to take home to Griet, and which bore the inscription, in
sugar letters, “A Fairing for You;” how Gijs was cheated in the
purchase of a cup and saucer for Mijntje; how they, furthermore,
bought ginger-bread, almonds, and who knows what besides, so that
their pockets stood out like hard lumps, and they were nearly
fainting under the weight of them. They visited the circus, but were
not edified; and when, finally, the great trick rider “Meseu Blanus,”
after two sudden changes of costume, appeared in flesh-coloured
tights, and walked about blowing a trumpet, Gerrit could stand it no
longer, and seizing his son by the arm, he shouted, “That beats all! so
it does! come, boy, come! come!” and hurried him out. When they
had struggled out into the crowd again, Gerrit said that they had had
their fill of that sort of thing, and more; and Gijs remarked that it
was low. They did not attempt to see any of the other shows, and
Gerrit unmercifully dragged Gijs past “The Mirror of Mystery,”
where, as the man at the door said, “The girl can see her lover, and
the young man his girl,—all for a dubbeltje! Great American Magic
Mirror of Mystery!” Gijs would have liked a peep at his Mijntje, but
Gerrit was firm.
Having partaken, by way of refreshment, of hot wafers and punch,
—a repast which Gijs liked well enough, but his father considered
“sweet, but nothing to stay your stomach on,”—they at last, after
many wanderings, found their way back to the hotel. The nimble
rabbit, Mr Karel, was again to the fore. In the twinkling of an eye he
had lit a candle, and flew up the stairs, requesting the wearied
rustics, unaccustomed to the hard walking of the streets, to follow
him, s’il vous plaît.
Gerrit and Gijs followed—yes! and in time they reached the top,
but felt just as if a thousand smiths were hammering away in their
bones.
“Do the gentlemen wish souper?” asked Karel, who by this time
had lit candles in each of the two rooms.
“Eat soup now!” said Gerrit, “get away with you! I’m fair filled up
with those wafer-cakes!”
“Put boots outside door—when d’you-want-to-be-called?” asked
Karel.
“I’m going away to-morrow morning by the first train,” said Gerrit.
“Then you’ll want a vigilante?”
“Go to the ... woodpile!” cried Gerrit, “with all your foreign talk.”
“Good-night, gentlemen!” said Karel.
The doors were shut, and the gentlemen were left alone. Now
began a conversation between the two—carried on in genuine rustic
growls, and yet as softly as if they were afraid of waking “Mother my
wife.” A few minutes later Gijs retired, with a new blue wadded
night-cap, and a “good-night, dad,” to No. 72.
Gerrit had at once blown out the wax candles in No. 71. “That’s just
sinful waste,” he said; and Gijs, on entering No. 72, followed his
father’s example.
They were not long in undressing by moonlight. Gijs put on the
night-cap, and stepped into the soft bed. What a thing that was!—soft
as pap!... Never knew such a thing before.... He lay listening.... Every
moment he heard something ... some one walking about ... groping
among the furniture ... at last speaking. At last, he could stand it no
longer—he sat up and stared uneasily about. He thought he could
plainly ... hear ... something ... at ... the ... door. Seemed as if ... you ...
could ... see ... the ... handle ... turning.... The perspiration broke out
all over him ... still he saw it ... plainly ... and, when the door was
really opened, he uttered a yell, but slowly recovered himself on
seeing that it was his father.
“Can’t rest on that thing,” said Gerrit, as he came in, meaning the
bed, which he found much too soft. “No, Gijs, I’ll just come and lie
here on the boards.”
“I’ll do that too,” said Gijs, stepping out of bed, and then he lay
down on the floor beside his father—each with a pea-jacket rolled up
for a pillow—“good-night! pleasant dreams.”
Whether the dreams were, in point of fact, pleasant may be
doubted, for they formed a first-class raree-show, composed of bare
legs and wafer-cakes, guns and horses, omnibuses, and the climbing
of towers, in wild confusion. Certain it is, however, that the
Meeuwsens, father and son, when they awoke, stared at one another
as if they had been bewitched, and had to think a long time before
they could remember where on earth they were.
Well, how did they get home again from the fair?—Gerrit to his
Griet, and Gijs to his Mijn.
Very well indeed. Physically they were in sad case, but spiritually
all right—which does not always happen on like occasions. The bill
which Karel handed to Gerrit before his departure was alike illegible
to him and to Gijs. Perhaps no one but the hotel-proprietor and the
head-waiter could ever have deciphered it—only the total was clear:
16f. 80—accurately reckoned. Gerrit thought, but said nothing; paid;
started, when he was told that a tip was expected of him, over and
above the bill, but paid it; and left the Verdoel by the first omnibus,
and Amsterdam by the first train.
“That’s over!” said Gerrit, sitting safe and sound once more beside
his Griet in the kitchen. “Once is well enough—but never again! And
I had everything first-class!”
This was true enough: for on the return journey he had managed
to get into the right compartment of the train—though, to say the
truth, he found it much less comfortable than the other.
And Gijs? Gijs was as blythe as a foal in the meadow, when he
found himself at home again. When he told Mijn about the circus,
and the young ladies in gilt caps who had sold him wafers, and tried
to flirt with him, she turned as red as fire, and said it was scandalous;
but the cup and saucer, which, contrary to all expectation, had
reached home uninjured, were duly admired by her. And when
Gerrit, one fine evening, had some of the neighbours in to help in the
pig-killing, and entertained them in the kitchen when work was over,
the monster cake was tasted, and Gerrit profited by the opportunity
to relate all his adventures. Then said Brother-in-Law Kresel, that
such a thing hadn’t happened within the memory of man!—and Baas
Janssen, that morality was getting into a frightful state!—and the old
Teunis farmer concluded, “What does a man want on the ice in his
clogs?”
J. J. Cremer.
NO SWORD!
“Another day on the rack!” Heer Doornik had said that morning to
his wife,—not however in so tragic a manner as the tenor of the
ejaculation would seem to indicate, as he was just then busy pulling
on a particularly intractable boot.
“Is your speech ready?” asked Mevrouw Doornik, in the act of
fastening his necktie for him.
“Yes, my address is prepared,” he replied, solemnly.
You must know, reader, that Doornik had been, in his young days,
a member of a “rhetorical chamber” at Dinxperlo or Buren, I do not
exactly remember which, and had reaped harvests of laurels at
various lectures—laurels offered to him along with cups of muddy
chocolate and cadetjes with cream cheese.
This circumstance had stood in his way all his life. The man, whose
manifest destiny was to become a schoolmaster, believed himself a
second Mirabeau. He would have liked to become a popular orator,
or a member of the Second Chamber, or failing that at least a
minister. But his ideals had gone the way of the cadetjes and the
chocolate, they had vanished into nothingness; the future Mirabeau
became, first, a pupil in a training-college, then third, and then
second master; and, at last, with much labour, he gained his head-
mastership.
“I have at last this consolation, that I am to-day once more placed
in a position to show the public what the art of oratory is.”
This last sentence was uttered with such an elevation of his voice,
that his wife thought it necessary to damp his enthusiasm a little.
“I’m afraid the pine-apple tartlets are burnt,” she said, “and the
cabinet-pudding, too, is not as it should be.”
But her husband did not hear her. In one hand he had a hair-brush
and in the other a comb, and with these objects he went through all
sorts of evolutions, his eyes fixed on the mirror, and his long figure
most eccentrically contorted. His wife left him alone; she was well
acquainted with this manœuvre, and twenty years’ experience of
married life had taught her not to disturb her husband when seized
by inspirations.
The Indies are not the place for unappreciated genius; all that they
could give the great man (except a good salary and an easy life,
which, of course, did not count) was the chairmanship of a few
committees, and a place in the church council and other assemblies,
which got through more talking than business. Besides this, he was a
Freemason, and thus at last he had the satisfaction of being able to
speak “in public,” taking one week with another, at least once a week.
The day of the school examination was therefore, in his opinion,
especially suited to this purpose, and he had not practised so long for
nothing. His speech was going to be brilliant, his eloquence
indescribable, his gestures and facial expression would do the rest. It
was only a pity that Hendriks (the second master) had come to worry
him, for, above all things, he needed quiet in those days when he was
going to show the public what good speaking is.
At last the proceedings were to begin.
The children sang one or two songs very prettily, and the effect
would have been exceedingly good, had not the head-master been of
opinion that his voice—not a bad one, but just now fairly hoarse with
nervousness—ought to be heard above all the rest.
Then the examination proper began, and the usual incidents took
place. Great exhibitions of dumbness on the part of the girls, fearful
embarrassment on that of the boys, extreme exasperation among the
masters, suppressed giggling among the ladies of the audience, and
unnaturally solemn faces among the members of the school
committee, who had evidently made up their minds to remain
serious whatever might happen.
“IN ONE HAND A
HAIR-BRUSH, IN THE
OTHER A COMB.”
In the first-class sat eight boys, between the ages of twelve and
fifteen. But it soon became apparent that six of the eight were mere
lay figures; the questions were addressed to all, but the answers,
evidently, expected from Anton van Duijn and William Ochtenraat
only.
They represented two distinct types, as they sat there side by side.
William had a fresh, rosy face, large blue eyes, and a white forehead,
crowned with blonde curls,—he was a prize specimen of a Dutch boy.
Anton, with his dark hair and jet-black eyes, clear-cut brown face,
and tall slight figure, was a handsome sinjo; for he had inherited his
looks more from his Creole mother than his Dutch father.
Mevrouw Ochtenraat had spoken truth when she assured
Mevrouw van Duijn just now that it gave her much pleasure to see
how clever and hard-working Anton was.
To-day, however, it seemed as though Anton did not know so
much more than his schoolfellow. Was it the fault of the questions
put by the master, who seemed still more agitated than common, and
became so amazingly tragic in his simplest movements and gestures
that he seemed to be reciting one of Racine’s tragedies rather than
conducting a school examination?
Or was it the way the master knitted his brows and rolled his eyes,
wriggled and writhed and stretched himself, that confused Anton?
Or could it have been the little piece of paper that had just been
put into his hand, and on which Heer Hendriks had written in pencil,
“Keep cool, don’t let them make you lose your head!”—could that
have been the reason why Anton every now and then failed to answer
a question?
William Ochtenraat, on the other hand, seemed in particularly
good spirits that morning. Again and again the master managed to
bring him round to one or other of the few subjects in which he was
at home. He made him tell the story of Alexander the Great’s horse,
and of the faithful hound who died on the grave of William the Silent,
and, finally, of the turf-boat by means of which Breda was surprised.
William’s eyes sparkled as he told of Bucephalus; and his mother
would have liked to kiss him when he nearly choked over William of
Orange’s dog; and when he laughed over the discomfiture of the
Spaniards, the whole room laughed with him.
Meanwhile, poor Anton became more and more uneasy; he no
longer nodded encouragingly to his mother, as he had done at first,
but his anxious looks sought Heer Hendriks, who was quite as pale
as he.
The arithmetic began. Here dogs, horses, and jokes were alike out
of place; the thing, therefore, was to ask the Governor’s son as few
questions as possible.
“Now I shall be all right!” thought Anton; for this was the subject
in which he most excelled. But even now things continued to go
wrong; time after time he found he could not answer, and something
began to glitter in his eyes which ought to have warned Heer
Doornik.
Again the master put a question. And the boy cried, pale with that
terrible bluish paleness one only sees where there is coloured blood,
—“I can’t answer that question, sir; and you know I can’t, because it’s
not on what I’ve learned.”
“But perhaps one of the other boys can,—William, for instance?”
asked Hendriks.
“Why, no,” cried Willie, “I never heard of it.”
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