Stories by Foreign Authors: Polish, Greek, Belgian, Hungarian
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Stories by Foreign Authors: Polish, Greek, Belgian, Hungarian
Short stories -- Translations into English
"A plate, quick!" The first koekebakke was spread out, golden and
juicy, the color of a fried sole. Who would have this first one? It
should be for Tobias; Tobias passed it on to Riekje, and the young girl
cut it in pieces and shared it with Dolf.
Tobias watched them both eat it with pleasure, then said to Nelle: "Ah!
my wife, I see that the koekebakken are as good as when you made them
for me the first time."
In gratitude for these kindly words a big juicy pancake, round as a
quoit, fell on to his plate. "The sun shines on my plate just as I see
it shine on the water from the bridge," he cried out.
More batter was quickly poured into the frying-pan, the butter bubbled,
the fire roared, and round pancakes fell on the table as tench.
"Now it's my turn, mother," cried Dolf, when the bowl was almost empty.
Nelle sat down near Tobias and ate the two pancakes which she had kept
for herself, because they were not quite so perfect as the others. Dolf
poured the batter into the frying-pan, but not in a ring, as Nelle did,
for his idea was to make a mannikin such as are to be seen in the
bakers' shop windows on the eve of St. Nicholas. The body and head were
soon visible; then came the arms and legs. Dolf, leaning over his work,
carefully guided the spoon, for fear of pouring the mixture too quickly
or too slowly. Suddenly he uttered a proud cry and slid the absurd
figure on to Riekje's plate, but no sooner did it touch the earthenware
than it broke in two, and ran into an indistinguishable mass. He tried
again and again, until the mannikin could stand on its legs. Then he
gave him a slice of apple for a head, to make him look more natural.
"My lad," Tobias said to his son, "in the corner among the shavings you
will find an old bottle of schiedam which I brought from Holland, along
with three others; they have been drunk, there is only this one left.
Bring it here."
Dolf obeyed, and Nelle took out some small glasses. Tobias uncorked the
bottle, and filled two of them, one for himself and one for Dolf.
Anyone could see that it was good old schiedam, for Tobias and his son
nodded their heads and smacked their lips with pleasure.
"Ah! my daughter," said Nelle, "it will be a happy day for us all in
two years' time, when a little sabot stands in the hearth filled with
carrots and turnips."
"Yes, Riekje, it will be a happy day for us all," said Dolf, closing
his big hands over hers.
Riekje raised her eyes, in which stood a tear, and said softly:
"Dolf, it's a good heart you have."
He sat down beside her and threw his arm round her waist:
"I am neither good nor bad, my Riekje, but I love you with all my
heart."
Riekje kissed him.
"Dolf dear, when I think of the past I hardly know how I can still care
for life."
"The past is past, my beloved Riekje," replied Dolf.
"Ah! Dolf, dear Dolf, there are times when I think it would almost be
better to be up there now, so that I might tell the good Virgin all you
have done for me."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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