“What is not necessary?”
“I had told them to make something ready in the kitchen—an omeletor some such thing.”
“Ah! . . . . and that is not necessary, because I have begun my story—that is naughty, Tine. Very well, as far as I am concerned; but these gentlemen have also a voice in the matter. Verbrugge! what do you like?—your share of the omelet or the story?”
“That is a difficult choice for a polite man,” said Verbrugge.
“Nor should I like to choose,” added Duclari, “for it would be a verdict between man and wife; and”
“Entre l’écorce et le bois, il ne faut pas mettre le doigt.”
“I will help you, gentlemen, the omelet is. . .”
“Madam,” said the courteous Duclari, “the omelet will certainly be worth as much. . . .”
“As the story? Certainly, if it is worth anything; but there is a difficulty. . . .”
“I wager that there is no sugar in the house,” said Verbrugge; “pray fetch from mine whatever you want.”
“There is sugar, from Madam Slotering; no, it is not that. If the omelet were good, that would not matter. . . .”
“What then, Madam; has it fallen into the fire?”
“I wish it had. No, it cannot fall into the fire; it is. . . .”
“But, Tine,” said Havelaar, “what is it then?”
“It is imponderable, Max! as your women at Arles
