was neither a wise nor a great man.

Well, in the end there came what the French call _un denouement_,--what
we in forcible modern English would call a _smash_,--and it happened
thus. It was one evening toward the summer that Koosje's eyes were
suddenly opened, and she became aware of the free-and-easy familiarity
of Truide's manner toward her betrothed lover, Jan. It was some very
slight and trivial thing that led her to notice it, but in an instant
the whole truth flashed across her mind.

"Leave the kitchen!" she said, in a tone of authority.

But it happened that, at the very instant she spoke, Jan was furtively
holding Truide's fingers under the cover of the table-cloth; and when,
on hearing the sharp words, the girl would have snatched them away, he,
with true masculine instinct of opposition, held them fast.

"What do you mean by speaking to her like that?" he demanded, an angry
flush overspreading his dark face.

"What is the maid to you?" Koosje asked, indignantly.

"Maybe more than you are," he retorted; in answer to which Koosje
deliberately marched out of the kitchen, leaving them alone.

To say she was indignant would be but very mildly to express the state
of her feelings; she was _furious_. She knew that the end of her romance
had come. No thoughts of making friends with Jan entered her mind; only
a great storm filled her heart till it was ready to burst with pain and
anguish.