that horse capering! I believe that it has the staggers . . . come and look, Max!”
Verbrugge realized that he would not have to teach the new Assistant-Resident much, and that there was no question of superiority through “local seniority,” which, however, it is only right to say, the good fellow had not desired.
“But it is natural,” continued Havelaar, taking Max in his arms. “At Tjekandi and Bolang they are very glad of it. And so are the rebels in the Lampongs. I reckon on your hearty co-operation, Mr. Verbrugge! The Regent is a man of advanced years, so we must . . . just tell me, is his son-in-law still District-Chief? Considering everything, I take him to be a man deserving of tolerant treatment . . . I mean the Regent. I am very glad that everything here is so backward and poverty-stricken, and . . . I hope to be here a long time.”
Saying this he shook hands with Verbrugge, who, returning to the table where the Resident, the Adhipatti, and Mrs. Havelaar were seated, realized already a little better than five minutes earlier that “Havelaar was not such a fool” as the Commandant believed. Verbrugge was in no way wanting in intelligence, and he, knowing the division Lebak about as thoroughly as so extensive a region, where nothing is printed, can be known by one person, began to see that after all there was a connection between the seemingly disconnected questions of Havelaar, and also that the new Assistant-Resident, although he had never before set foot in the division, knew something of the things that were going on there. It is true, he still did not understand that gladness about the poverty in Lebak, but he persuaded himself that he had misunderstood that expression. Afterwards, however, when Havelaar frequently repeated the same statement, he saw how much goodness and nobility there was in that joy.
Havelaar and Verbrugge sat down at the table, and talking about trivial matters during tea, they waited till Dongso came to tell the Resident that the fresh horses were put in. The travellers
