So I just wish to say, in the words of Abraham Blankaart, that I consider this chapter “essential,” because, I think, it gives a better knowledge of Havelaar, who once and for all appears to be the hero of the story.
“Tine, what kind of ketimon[1] is this? My dear girl, never put plant-acid with fruit! Cucumbers with salt, pineapples with salt, Indian oranges with salt, all that comes out of the soil with salt; vinegar with fish and meat . . . there is something about this in Liebig . . .”
“Dear Max,” Tine asked with a laugh, “how long do you think we have been here? That ketimon is Mrs. Slotering’s.”
And Havelaar had to make an effort to remember that he had only arrived the day before, and that with the best possible intentions Tine could not yet have arranged anything for the kitchen or the household. He himself had already been a long time at Rangkas-Betoong! Had he not spent the whole night reading in the archives, and had not too much already passed through his soul in connection with Lebak, for him to know straightway like this that he had only been there since yesterday? Tine perfectly understood this: she always understood him.
“Of course, you are right,” he said. “But in any case you really must read something of Liebig’s. Verbrugge, have you read much of Liebig?”
“Who is he?” asked Verbrugge.
“He is a man who has written a good deal about pickling gherkins. He also discovered how one may change grass into wool . . . you understand, don’t you?”
- ↑ Gherkins.
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