Romeo and Juliet
Sister De
Zwart, an octogenarian spinster, lived alone on a quiet street of our Dutch
village. The dimly lit road, adorned with a feeble streetlight fighting against
the encroaching darkness, presented an eerily quiet scene. Convinced she had
fallen gravely ill, I braced myself for bad news.
As I
approached Miss De Zwart’s house, I noticed a faint figure leaning against a
house directly across the narrow street. The atmosphere was shrouded in
mystery, with an unsettling calm that hinted at something being amiss. Upon
ringing the doorbell, the door immediately, though cautiously, opened a few
inches, revealing the familiar face of Sister De Zwart, and alleviating my
initial concerns.
I
accompanied her into the front room. A lone lamp shone down upon a newspaper
and a pair of glasses. Miss De Zwart, with her sunken mouth, wrinkles, and hair
resembling faded yarn, looked nervous and out of sorts. Although typically
timid, her demeanor had shifted to one of palpable fear.
The cause
of her distress? A man had been loitering in front of her house for an
unnerving hour. Recounting recent tales of robbery and murder, she feared for
her safety. Her desperate call for the pastor’s help had been relayed through
the neighbor boy, whom she had seen riding his bike down the street. She had
rapped on the window to catch his attention. Miss De Zwart did not dare to
venture outside.
The
situation required a display of masculine heroism, and I, recognizing the need
to uphold her trust, stepped into the role. Despite my aversion to unknown,
burly men lurking in dark streets, I ventured outside, with Miss De Zwart
abruptly closing the door behind me, an action I did not appreciate.
Coughing and stamping my feet to announce my approach, I carefully surveyed the empty street, hoping for a potential witness. A few strategic moves brought me closer to the mysterious figure. To my surprise, I recognized him as Dirk van Egmond, a catechism student. “Dirk, what are you doing here?” I asked.
Dirk
bashfully revealed that he had fallen for a girl he had seen in the
neighborhood and had followed to this house. He had been hoping to catch
another glimpse of her. The truth was beginning to unravel before me. Dirk was
an impressionable young man who had a reputation for falling lovestruck. Miss
De Zwart’s niece, the object of Dirk’s affection, had been visiting her old
aunt, but had recently returned to her home. However, I withheld this
information from Dirk.
“Oh, is
that all, Dirk? I’ve just come from there, and that lady wants to know who you
are. Come along.”
After a
moment’s hesitation “Romeo” followed my lead. I introduced Dirk to Miss De
Zwart: “This is Dirk van Egmond; he wanted to get to know you,” said I, before
ushering him inside and promptly closing the door behind him.
Then I
snuck away quietly, because budding romance has no use for a third person.
--------
From Peper en Zout; tr. George van
Popta, 2024
