The skipper, Van Galgebrok, affirmed to me,—nay, gave me the additional testimony of two of his crew,—that he was thrown overboard. “My God!” he said again. The subterranean level of the Diedermayer house was fully bedecked with every luxury known to mankind. “I will have your true reason. But I will never—never return. But once he had steered the lady down the hall and along a passage to a window seat at the end, he abandoned the subject of society. For she and this old lady became at once friends. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. Bounding the corner of a garden wall, he came upon his former place of imprisonment.
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