brugge, is not this a pretty little fellow?—’tis my little boy, Max!”
The Resident had seated himself with the Adhipatti. Havelaar called Verbrugge to ask him who was the owner of that grey horse with red trappings; and when Verbrugge went to the entrance of the ‘pendoppo’ to see what horse he meant, he put his hand on his shoulder and asked—
“Is the Regent always so attentive?”
“He is a strong man for his years, Mr. Havelaar, and you understand that he would like to make a good impression on you.”
“Yes, I understand that. I have heard much good of himhe is an educated man?”
“Oh, yes”
“And he has a large family?”
Verbrugge looked at Havelaar, as if He did not understand the transition. This style often presented difficulties to those who did not know him. The quickness of his mind often made him omit in conversation some links in the reasoning; and although these links followed each other with regularity in his thoughts, he could not take it amiss on the part of one who was not so quick, or accustomed to his quickness, if he stared at him on such an occasion with the unuttered question on his lips—“Are you mad?or what is the matter?”
Some such expression appeared in the face of Verbrugge;
