little boy. The police came and took him away from his parents, away
from the nursery and the drawing-room, and put him in prison.

In the street the police wore a blue coat and had a large cane in his
hand. Woe to the one who made the acquaintance of that cane!

My maternal grandfather was having his warehouse done up, a large
warehouse, three stories high. Through doors at the top, just under the
gable in the middle, there issued a crane, and from it hung down a
tremendously thick rope at the end of which was a strong iron hook. By
means of it the large barrels of sky-blue indigo, which were brought on
waggons, were hoisted. Inside the warehouse the ropes passed through
every storey, through holes in the floors. If you pulled from the inside
at the one or the other of the ropes, the rope outside with the iron
crook went up or down.

In the warehouse you found Jens; he was a big, strong, taciturn,
majestic man with a red nose and a little pipe in his mouth, and his
fingers were always blue from the indigo. If you had made sure of Jens'
good-will, you could play in the warehouse for hours at a time, roll the
empty barrels about, and--which was the greatest treat of all--pull the
ropes. This last was a delight that kept all one's faculties at extreme
tension. The marvellous thing about it was that you yourself stood
inside the house and pulled, and yet at the same time you could watch
through the open doors in the wall how the rope outside went up or down.
How it came about was an enigma. But you had the refreshing
consciousness of having accomplished something--saw the results of your
efforts before your eyes.

Nor could I resist the temptation of pulling the ropes when Jens was out