nexion with Lebak, for him to know so soon that he only arrived there the day before? Tine knew this very well; she always understood.
“Oh yes, that is true,” said he; “but still you may like to read something from Liebig. Verbrugge, have you read much of Liebig?”
“Who was he?” asked Verbrugge.
“An author who wrote much on the preserving of gherkins; he also discovered how to change grass into wool. . . . You understand?”
“No,” said Verbrugge and Duclari together.
“Well, it had been known for a long time:—send a sheep into the field, and you will see. But it was Liebig who discovered the manner in which it happens. Others, however, say that he knows but little about it: they are now trying to discover the means of dispensing with the sheep altogether. . . . Oh, those scholars! Molière knew it very well. . . . I like Moliére. If you like, we shall have reading every evening; Tine will also be of the party when Max is in bed.”
Duclari and Verbrugge liked this. Havelaar said that he had not many books, but amongst them he had Schiller, Goethe, Heine, Lamartine, Thiers, Say, Malthus, Scialoja, Smith, Shakespeare, Byron, Vondel. . . .
Verbrugge said that he was not acquainted with the English language.
“What the deuce! You are more than thirty years of
