The wine was streaming, and straying away as if it were the lost sinner. This pleased Walter immensely. None of the guests seemed to notice such a small trifle, not even the waiters. This ought to have happened just once in the Pieterse home--and even if it were only a stein of beer!
The artist says to himself, Do you suppose I didn't foresee the seductive influence of such a picture? The next one makes it all right!
Third picture: Magnificent. How romantic this wilderness! Oh, to sit there on that boulder and stare into the immeasurable depths of the universe--alone!
No schoolmaster, no mother, brother, or anyone to say what he must do with his heart, with his time, with his elbows, or with his breeches! That's the way Walter saw it. The young man there didn't even have on breeches; and he looked as if he wouldn't have been ashamed to stretch himself out on his back, with his arms over his head, and watch with wide-open eyes the passing of the moon and stars. Walter asked himself what he would think of when he had founded such an empire of solitude.
Hm! Femke could sit on the boulder with him. Prodigal son--oh, sin divine with her! He was surprised that in the whole Bible there was only one prodigal son. Of all sins this seemed to him the most seductive.
And the desert was so--endurable. There were trees in it, which one could climb, when one really got lost, or use to build a nice little cabin--for Femke, of course.
The prodigal in the picture didn't seem to have thought of all that. Why wasn't the Juffrouw in green silk with him? She will come soon, Walter said to himself. Perhaps she's not quite through with her prodigality. If she would only hurry up and come! He longs for her. But that is the only annoyance that a genuine prodigal takes with him from the profane world into that capital wilderness.
It must be remarked in passing, however, that the hogs with which that picture was equipped looked ugly. The pious artist had made them shield-bearers of sin, and had supplied their physiognomies with all kinds of horrible features. And, too, the trough looked dirty.
If it happens to me, said Walter, I'll take sheep with me; and Femke can card the wool.
The artist ought to admit that even this third picture is inadequate to inspire a proper disgust for prodigality.