The Rider on the White Horse | Page 9

sure, he knew the slender, eighteen-year-old girl with the tanned,
narrow face and the dark eyebrows that ran into each other over the
stubborn eyes and the slender nose; but he had scarcely spoken a word
to her. Now, if he should go to old Tede Volkerts, he would look at her
more and see what there was about the girl. Right off he wanted to go,
so that no one else could snatch the position away from him--it was
now scarcely evening. And so he put on his Sunday coat and his best
boots and started out in good spirits.
The long rambling house of the dikemaster was visible from afar
because of the high mound on which it stood, and especially because of
the highest tree in the village, a mighty ash. The grandfather of the
present dikemaster, the first of the line, had in his youth planted an ash
to the east of the house door; but the first two had died, and so he had
planted a third on his wedding morning, which was still murmuring as
if of old times in the increasing wind with its crown of foliage that was
growing mightier and mightier.
When, after a while, tall, lank Hauke climbed up the hill which was
planted on both sides with beets and cabbage, he saw the daughter of

the owner standing beside the low house door. One of her somewhat
thin arms was hanging down languidly, the other seemed to be grasping
behind her back at one of the iron rings which were fastened to the wall
on either side of the door, so that anyone who rode to the house could
use them to hitch his horse. From there the young girl seemed to be
gazing over the dike at the sea, where on this calm evening the sun was
just sinking into the water and at the same time gilding the
dark-skinned maiden with its last golden glow.
Hauke climbed up the hill a little more slowly, and thought to himself:
"She doesn't look so dull this way!" Then he was at the top. "Good
evening to you!" he said, stepping up to her. "What are you looking at
with your big eyes, Miss Elke?"
"I'm looking," she replied, "at something that goes on here every night,
but can't be seen here every night." She let the ring drop from her hand,
so that it fell against the wall with a clang. "What do you want, Hauke
Haien?" she asked.
"Something that I hope you don't mind," he said. "Your father has just
discharged his hired man; so I thought I would take a job with you."
She glanced at him, up and down: "You are still rather lanky, Hauke!"
she said, "but two steady eyes serve us better than two steady arms!" At
the same time she looked at him almost sombrely, but Hauke bravely
withstood her gaze. "Come on, then," she continued. "The master is in
his room; let's go inside."
The next day Tede Haien stepped with his son into the spacious room
of the dikemaster. The walls were covered with glazed tiles on which
the visitor could enjoy her a ship with sails unfurled or an angler on the
shore, there a cow that lay chewing in front of a peasant's house. This
durable wall-covering was interrupted by an alcove-bed with doors now
closed, and a cupboard which showed all kinds of china and silver
dishes through glass doors. Beside the door to the "best room" a Dutch
clock was set into the wall behind a pane of glass.
The stout, somewhat apoplectic master of the house sat at the end of the

well-scrubbed, shining table in an armchair with a bright-coloured
cushion. He had folded his hands across his stomach, and was staring
contentedly with his round eyes at the skeleton of a fat duck; knife and
fork were resting in front of him on his plate.
"Good day, dikemaster!" said Haien, and the gentleman thus addressed
slowly turned his head and eyes toward him.
"You here, Tede?" he replied, and the devoured fat duck had left its
mark on his voice. "Sit down; it is quite a walk from your place over
here!"
"I have come, dikemaster," said Tede Haien, while he sat down
opposite the other in a corner on the bench that ran along the wall.
"You have had trouble with your hired man and have agreed with my
boy to put him in his place!"
The dikemaster nodded: "Yes, yes, Tede; but--what do you mean by
trouble? We people of the marshes, thank goodness, have something to
take against troubles!"--and he took the knife before him and patted the
skeleton of the poor duck almost affectionately. "This was my pet
bird," he added