me which I caused to be placed on the General’s breakfast-table, by a person then in his, and previously in my service:—
Governor, weirwolf of our days, John All-suspender,
Would gladly e’en suspend his feeble conscience thus,
But that long since ’twas forced its office to surrender.’ ”
“You must pardon me, Mr. Havelaar, I think your action was not permissible,” said Duclari.
“And so do I . . . but I had to take some action! You must realize that I had no money, that I received nothing, and that any day I might fear death from starvation, which indeed came close enough to me. I had few or no relations at Padang, and, besides, I had written to the General that he was responsible if I should die from want, also that I should accept help from no one. There were people in the Interior who, hearing of my circumstances, invited me to come and stay with them, but the General wouldn’t allow a pass to be given me. Nor was I allowed to leave for Java. Everywhere else I could have managed for myself, and perhaps even there if people had not all been so afraid of the powerful General. It seemed to be his intention to let me starve. This lasted nine months.”
“And how did you keep alive so long? Or had the General many turkeys?”
“Yes, plenty! But that was of no use to me . . . one does a thing like that once, you see! What I did during all that time? Ah, well . . . I composed verses, wrote plays . . . and so on.”
“And were you able to buy rice for those things at Padang?”
“No, but that I never asked for them. I would rather not say how I lived.”
Tine pressed his hand. She knew.
“I have read a couple of lines which you are said to have written on the back of a bill in those days,” said Verbrugge.
“I know what you refer to. Those lines depicted my position. There was a periodical at that time called The Copyist, to which I
