Nearly the whole of Santjoemeh had been keeping festival. It was, indeed, no everyday occurrence for the son of the rich opium farmer of the district to marry the daughter of an equally wealthy disciple of Mercury. At the union of so many millions the Dutch public could not but evince the liveliest interest—and it had done so.  
We said: nearly the whole of Santjoemeh; for there were some who had not thought it incumbent upon them to grace the banquet and the ball with their presence. Van Beneden, Grashuis, van Rheijn, and Grenits, had allowed their ethnological curiosity to prevail so far as to induce them to go and witness the nuptial ceremony; but nothing could persuade them to attend the subsequent festivities. They had, on the contrary, determined, while the European population was crowding within Lim Yang Bing’s stately mansion in the Gang Pinggir, and the natives were swarming all around it, to pass a particularly quiet evening together at the house of their friend van Nerekool.
 
When they entered they found the young judge still seated at his study bending over his work by the light of a reading-lamp.
 
“Hallo!” cried one, “still at it?”
 
“Are the courts so very busy just now?” asked another.
 
“By Jove!” exclaimed a third, “that’s what I call zeal for the service!”
 
“Ornithologically speaking,” laughed van Beneden, “our friend Charles should be classed with the rara avis. Come, come, old fellow, this is no time for working! All Santjoemeh is astir—just hear what an infernal row is going on yonder.”
 
“Yes,” remarked Theodoor Grenits, with a scornful laugh, “they are making noise enough over it.”
 
“My dear friends,” replied van Nerekool, “the greater part of the day I have been very busy indeed; for as Leendert just now observed with more truth than he himself was aware, at the present moment we have a great deal of work to get through in the courts; but yet, when you came in, I was occupied in a very different manner.” [459]
 
“Would it be indiscreet to ask what made our host bend his head so anxiously over his desk?” asked Theodoor.
 
“Not at all, I was reading a letter I have just received from William; that is what made me lay aside my pen.”
 
“From William Verstork?”
 
“How is he?”
 
“Is he well?”
 
“How is he getting on at Atjeh?”
 
These questions crossed one another, and were uttered, as it were, in a breath; for the five young men were warmly attached to the worthy controller.
 
“Yes,” replied van Nerekool, “I am glad to tell you that Verstork is in perfect health, and that he is getting on uncommonly well in the military world yonder.”
 
“Well, that’s a blessing,” remarked van Rheijn, who never liked soldiers, “I am glad to hear it—I don’t at all want to change places with him.”
 
“And what is his letter about, Charles?” asked van Beneden.
 
“His letter is a very long one,” replied van Nerekool, “much too long to read to you this evening. The greater part of it, moreover, is devoted to purely private matters; and contains particulars concerning the parents of Anna van Gulpendam, which I do not think I have a right to communicate to you. He tries to cure me of my love for her, and I have no doubt that his endeavour is exceedingly well meant; but yet the contents of his letter have made me very melancholy, as they make the chasm between us appear deeper and more impassible than it seemed before.
 
“Where can she be?” he continued after an instant’s pause—“If I only knew that then all would not be lost!”
 
The four friends looked at one another sadly—that letter had evidently touched a string which vibrated painfully in van Nerekool’s heart.
 
“Come, Charles,” said Grashuis, trying to rouse his friend, “you must not give way to that melancholy mood. You must try and accept the inevitable. Moreover, who can tell what the future may bring!”
 
“But she is gone!” cried Van Nerekool hopelessly, “she has disappeared without leaving a trace.”
 
A strange smile passed over Edward van Rheijn’s lips; but he made no direct remark.
 
At length he said: “Baboe Dalima also seems to have mysteriously disappeared.” [460]
 
Van Nerekool made an impatient gesture as one who would say: ‘What is that to me?’
 
“I happened lately to be at Kaligaweh,” continued van Rheijn, “and I chanced to meet old Setrosmito there. He tells me that Dalima started off some time ago for Karang Anjer.”
 
“For Karang Anjer!” exclaimed van Nerekool, “and what—?”
 
“But from that time to this her family have had no tidings from her,” continued van Rheijn.
 
“Have they heard nothing?” asked Charles.
 
“Not a single word—indeed her parents do not know whether she is alive or dead.”
 
Van Nerekool’s head sunk down despondingly on his breast. “One faint gleam of hope,” he murmured, “and then dark night again!”
 
For a while no one spoke. At length van Beneden, who wished to lead his friend’s thoughts into a different channel, broke the silence:
 
“Does Verstork write upon no other subject than this?”
 
“Oh, yes,” replied Charles, who was gradually regaining his composure. “Let us go into the inner room and I will read you the most interesting portion of his letter. This is not at all the place for a comfortable chat.”
 
Thereupon they left the study, which, with its folios and bulky law-books, did not indeed present a very sociable or cosy appearance.
 
“Sabieio, chairs and cigars for the gentlemen!” cried van Nerekool. When all were seated and the fragrant Manillas were lighted, he continued:
 
“Gentlemen, what do you say to a glass of beer?”
 
No very determined opposition being offered to this hospitable proposal, van Nerekool again called to his servant, “Sabieio, bring us some iced beer.”
 
Thus all having quenched their thirst in the pleasant and cooling beverage:
 
“Now then gentlemen,” said Charles, “I will give you the most important parts of William’s letter,” and he began to read as follows:
 
“?‘Do you recollect that when we sat down to dinner together after our day’s hunting in the Djoerang Pringapoes, I told you of a certain recipe for pills to counteract opium, and how that I also told you what success I had already had with this medicine? Grenits, at the time, was not at all inclined to look [461]favourably upon that communication, and took a very gloomy view of the prospect which lay before me. The words he used on that occasion have been continually ringing in my ears; and to this day I remember them as clearly as when they were spoken, he said: “Keep that prescription strictly to yourself, and don’t say a word about it to anybody. The Colonial Secretary, who has but one object in view, and that is to raise the opium revenue as much as possible, might look upon your remedy as an attack made upon the golden calf; and missionaries have before this been impeded in their Gospel work, and men have been expelled from the colonies, and official functionaries have been suspended or pensioned off for the commission of much more venial offences than bringing such pills as yours to the opium smokers.” Now, Charles, you know that although with an eye to the future of the members of my family, who, to some extent, depend upon me for support, I was, for a few moments, depressed at my friend’s gloomy prognostic; yet I soon rallied, and, after a little reflection, began to look upon Grenits’ words as the outcome of a passing fit of melancholy induced by our conversation, which had almost exclusively run on opium horrors and opium scandals. Indeed, Grenits himself could not have intended to paint the future in colours as dark as his words seemed to imply; for you remember that when I laughed and said: “Oh, it is not quite so bad as that, I hope,” he replied with a smile, “Perhaps not; but your pills will not earn you the Netherlands’ Lion.”
 
“?‘Ah, no, Charles! I never aimed at any such distinction. The little good I have been able to do I have done simply for its own sake and without the least expectation of any recompense. Such ambition I have always most willingly left to others; for I know full well that seldom real merit, sometimes the directly opposite, but always a certain amount of pliability and want of back-bone, is rewarded by these outward tokens of official approbation. And the mere thought that I might so much as be suspected of belonging to those invertebrates would suffice to paralyse every effort on my part. The shaft which Theodoor thus shot at random missed its mark; yet neither he nor I could, at that time, suspect how much sarcasm lay hidden in his last words or how very much to the point had been his foregoing counsels. Now pay good heed to what I am about to tell you.
 
“?‘I had not been here very long, before I received a document from the Chief Secretary’s office at Batavia. That, in [462]itself, was no very uncommon occurrence. I have frequently had communications from that quarter when information was required on certain civil questions, such as duties and other things of that kind, about which they did not wish to trouble the Military Governor. But yet, it seemed rather strange to me that, on this occasion, I did not receive the document through the Chief of the Military Department. It was a written paper, yet not a despatch. It looked more like a circular although these are generally either printed or lithographed. Now listen to what it contained: “An attempt has been discovered at Batavia to import certain pills consisting of or mixed with opium, under the pretence that they are medicinal. The Indian Government has come to the conclusion that the pills in question must be considered as a preparation of opium, and it, therefore, forbids the importation of this so-called medicine except through its own agents, and the sale thereof excepting by the regularly licensed opium farmers and such apothecaries and chemists as are specially exempt from the provisions of the Opium Act. You are hereby requested strictly to enforce the Government’s decision on this subject.”
 
“?‘This precious document bore the Home Secretary’s signature.
 
“?‘Here at Oleh-leh I had made attempts with the pills in question to cure the Chinese opium smokers of their fatal passion, and my efforts in their behalf had met with marked success. I had further given a couple of hundred of them to the officers of the garrison for distribution among such of their men as might need them. These gentlemen also gave me the most glowing account of the success of the medicine. The trophy of bedoedans in my study was enriched by half-a-dozen pipes; and I must confess, Charles, that as often as my eye happened to fall on those instruments of moral ruin, which are hanging there harmless on my wall as the visible tokens of victories obtained, I could not repress a feeling of self-satisfaction. Was I now to desist? Was I forbidden any longer to attempt the rescue of the infatuated wretches around me? I could not realise it—I could not believe it. Surely the Government would not refuse to hold out a helping hand to the myriads of wretched victims of opium which swarm all about India! There must be a mistake somewhere. The Government must have been misinformed and all that was needed was for somebody to open its eyes to the truth.
 
“?‘To put these pills into the hands of the opium farmer for [463]distribution would be reducing the whole thing to the most utter absurdity and to ensure failure beforehand.
 
“?‘I therefore sat down and drew up a carefully detailed statement in which I gave the result of my own experience, the evidence of the missionaries and the favourable opinions also of the officers mentioned above. I added to my document legally attested declarations of these gentlemen as to the salutary effects of the medicine.
 
“?‘Finally, I ventured to suggest, that, in favour of these pills as a bona fide medicine, an exception might be made, and that, as prepared and sent out by the Missionary Society, they might be excluded from the regulations of the opium law.
 
“?‘My dear Charles, what was I about? Oh, yes, as an honest man I had followed the dictates of my conscience; but it was too simple-minded on my part to hope that the Government might, in the highest interests of morality, be induced to forego even the smallest scrap of its profits. I was a greenhorn indeed to sit down and pen such a document at a time when money—money—money—is the only question with the Government and money-scraping seems to be our highest national virtue; while men resolutely close their eyes to the dirty gutters out of which it is raked together.
 
“?‘Very soon after, indeed by the very next mail, I received a reply to my proposal. It ran thus: “It is not the intention of the Government to discuss the proposal contained in your letter of the —th. The pills in question must have lately found their way into other parts of the island as well as into Batavia. Ostensibly they are designed to wean the smokers from the excessive use of opium; but in reality they only serve to procure that indulgence at a much cheaper rate for those who, either from want of means or for other reasons, cannot procure the drug from the legitimate source. While you were occupying the post of controller in the district of Santjoemeh we had good reason to suspect that, in your official capacity, you were not disinclined to evade—we are willing to believe from the best motives—the Government regulations with regard to the sale of opium; and that you thus contributed to diminish the public revenue. Your last letter incontestably proves that you are pursuing the same practices now. On a public servant who entertains such views of his duty, the Government cannot look with much favour; and were it not that I am fully persuaded that you are actuated by the very best motives in pursuing your present line of conduct, and that your well-known [464]family relations make me very loth to adopt decided measures, I would at once propose your dismissal as a man unfit for the public service. I have directed the Governor carefully to watch your proceedings and to report immediately to head-quarters the first failure of duty on your part that may come under his notice. I need hardly tell you that the State requires from its servants a very different conception of duty from that of lending a willing ear to every foolish sentiment of morbid philanthropy; and that, therefore, if you give any further cause for dissatisfaction you must not reckon upon any consideration whatever.”?’?”
 
“It is disgraceful!” exclaimed Grenits as soon as van Nerekool ceased reading. “A noble-hearted fellow like William Verstork to be so shamefully treated!”
 
“Oh, that opium, that opium!” continued Grashuis no less indignantly than his friend, “it seems to taint the very life-blood of our nation. Has it then come to this that we are to be deprived of every means of stemming the national evil?”
 
“Yes, it is indeed disgraceful!” chimed in van Beneden.
 
“But, my friends,” objected van Rheijn, “are you not rather one-sided in your view of the matter and rather too hasty in forming an opinion? May there not be some truth in what the Government alleges and might not these pills, un............