My sudden breaking away was looked upon as a lapse, and I was
in fact more pitied than scorned. I was said to have fallen prey to an
ambitious, selfish woman, as indeed sometimes happened to the best of
men.
I received many kindly admonishing and gravely moralizing letters from
my chiefs and from former compatriots. I saw that they did not like to
lose so efficient a power. They even organized noble endeavors for the
saving of the poor drowning man. But I remained obdurate and would not
let myself be saved and even concealed myself from all callers,
faithfully assisted therein by Jan Baars, whose good Dutch qualities
beneath his apparent unpleasantness I learned to respect. Jan Baars was
the touchstone so to speak, the training that taught me to tolerate a
Dutch environment. Without the schooling of Jan Baars I could not have
endured my present life. He was a boor, a dolt, a dirty lout, a
narrow-minded churl, but he did all sorts of kind and generous things.
Once convinced of the fact that my intentions toward Elsje were
honorable, he stood by us through thick and thin, and did not trouble
himself about conventions, nor about gossip, nor about the minister,
nor about the burgomaster, nor about the baker and his customers.
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