Footsteps Read Online Free PDF Page B

your studies later?”
    “A visit by the honorable member is a rare event. He is unlikely to be out here even once in every five years, Mr. Director. Mr. Minke will have many days for study.”
    “All right, but just this once. Except for holidays.” He gave in. “But have you recovered from your journey?”
    “Even tiredness can be overcome with eight hours’ sleep. Isn’t that right?” Now my friend spoke to me.

2
    T here had not been time to think over and digest all my impressions and experiences of the first part of that day. I did not even have time for an afternoon nap. Everyone in the dormitory was busy trying to figure out the identity of the woman in my painting. The person who had stuck the news clipping on my suitcase tried to question me. Perhaps Partokleooo had told him what I had said about her.
    That afternoon, they all started to make friends and carefully sought an opportunity to ask. The Indo, too, whose name was Wilam (his official name—his unofficial name was William Merry-weather). He was the son of an English plantation owner who had been killed by the Pitung gang in an attack on his plantation. His mother, a beauty from Cicurug—perhaps a relative of
Nyai Dasima
—was kidnapped by the gang. She was only freed after they were finally smashed by the army. And she brought home with her a new son.
    I didn’t answer any of their questions, except with a smile. I began to realize that among these educated Natives there were the beginnings of an appreciation of the beauty of the European face.
    After it was announced that the School Council had decidedto allow me to skip the first two years of preparatory classes, the students all felt that the harsh treatment they had meted out to me had been fair.
    My friend Mr. Ter Haar was to pick me up at a quarter to five. The other students escorted me to the front of the school, where we all waited. The unpleasant events of earlier in the day were forgotten.
    For the entire length of our journey in the delman, Ter Haar did nothing but talk about what a great man van Kollewijn was. He was a man who had ccntributed so much to the Indies, he said, opening up new vistas for the Natives. Even though, yes, even though it was Sugar that enjoyed most of these benefits.
    I knew very little about this god, except for the fact that he was famous. I tried to understand what my friend was saying—that one man alone could change so much! What was his secret? What were his powers? If he did not have such powers, then how was it possible that he could be elevated to such godlike status, as if he were a king with the power of life and death over others? And he was just a member of the Lower House; his only task was to speak. Just to talk. Of course, he no doubt had a silver tongue. I just wasn’t able to picture in my mind what he would be like. I had to meet him for myself and hear from him directly what he had to say.
    The Harmoni Club was impressive. Huge, magnificent, and opulent. The floor was made from tiles of black stone that reflected the light from the crystal chandeliers above. The air inside was cool and fresh. The rooms were filled with enormous, elaborately carved furniture. Every suite represented the fashion of a particular period. In one room there stood three huge billiard tables surrounded by billiard cues that looked as if they were lances guarding the tables. There was a picture of Her Majesty, standing alone, wearing a full-length gown and a white sash with black streaks, in a gold-painted carved frame. It stood higher than I did, and I was five feet.
    This maiden, whom I had once praised so much, was about to walk down the wedding aisle with Prince Hendrik. It would be on February 1, 1901, Netherlands calendar, or February 6, 1901, according to Indies calendar, which was a
Kliwon
Friday. There hadn’t been time to decorate the ballroom for the big celebrations that were planned—as big as those at her coronation.
    “It seems that you like to