This was a soliloquy of the old woman's before that Vanslyperken had entered the room, where he found his mother sitting over a few cinders half ignited in a very small grate. Parsimony would not allow her to use more fuel, although her limbs trembled as much from cold as palsy; her nose and chin nearly met; her lips were like old scars, and of an ashy white; and her sunken hollow mouth reminded you of a small, deep, dark sepulchre; teeth she had none. "How fare you, mother?" said Vanslyperken on entering the room. "I'm alive." "And long may you live, dear mother." "Ah," replied the woman, as if doubting. "I am here but for a short time," continued Vanslyperken. "Well, child, so much the better; when on board you save money, on shore you must spend some. Have you brought any with you?" "I have, mother, which I must leave to your care." "Give it me then." Vanslyperken pulled out a bag and laid it on the lap of his mother, whose trembling hands counted it over. "Gold, and good gold--while you live, my child, part not with gold. I'll not die yet--no, no, the devils may pull at me, and grin at me, but I'm not theirs yet." Here the old woman paused, and rocked herself in her chair. "Cornelius, lock this money up and give me the key:--there, now that is safe, you may talk, if you please, child: I can hear well enough." Vanslyperken obeyed; he mentioned all the events of the last cruise, and his feelings against the widow, Smallbones, and Jemmy Ducks. The old woman never interrupted him, but sat with her arms folded up in her apron. "Just so, just so," said she, at last, when he had done speaking; "I felt the same, but then you have not the soul to act as I did. I could do it, but you--you are a coward; no one dared cross my path, or if they did--ah, well, that's years ago, and I'm not dead yet." All this was muttered by the old woman in a sort of half soliloquy: she paused and continued, "Better leave the boy alone,--get nothing by it;--the woman--there's work there, for there's money." "But she refuses, mother, if I do not destroy the dog." "Refuses--ah, well--let me see:--can't you ruin her character, blast her reputation; she is yours and her money too;--then, then--there will be money and revenge--both good;--but money--no--yes, money's best. The dog must live, to gnaw the Jezebel--gnaw her bones--but you, you are a coward--you dare do nothing." "What do I fear, mother?" "Man--the gallows, and death. I fear the last, but I shall not die yet:--no, no, I _will_ live--I will _not_ die. Ay, the corporal--lost in Zuyder Zee--dead men tell no tales; and he could tell many of you, my child. Let the fish fatten on him." "I cannot do without him, mother." "A hundred thousand devils!" exclaimed the old mother, "that I should have suffered such throes for a craven. Cornelius Vanslyperken, you are not like your mother:--your father, indeed" "Who was my father?" "Silence, child,--there, go away--I wish to be alone with memory."