last days in a dutch hotel-第3部分

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VI。

I　call　them　the　Queens；　because　the　Dutch　do；　and　I　like　Holland　so　much
that　I　should　hate　to　differ　with　the　Dutch　in　anything。　　But；　as　a
matter　of　fact；　they　are　neither　of　them　quite　Queens；　the　mother　is　the
regent　and　the　daughter　will　not　be　crowned　till　next　year。

But；　such　as　they　are；　they　imparted　a　supreme　emotion　to　our　dying
season；　and　thrilled　the　hotel　with　a　fulness　of　summer　life。　　Since　they
went；　the　season　faintly　pulses　and　respires；　so　that　one　can　just　say
that　it　is　still　alive。　　Last　Sunday　was　fine；　and　great　crowds　came　down
from　The　Hague　to　the　concert；　and　spread　out　on　the　seaward　terrace　of
the　hotel；　around　the　little　tables　which　I　fancied　that　the　waiters　had
each　morning　wiped　dry　of　the　dew；　from　a　mere　Dutch　desire　of　cleaning
something。　　The　hooded　chairs　covered　the　beach；　the　children　played　in
the　edges　of　the　surf　and　delved　in　the　sand；　the　lovers　wandered　up　into
the　hollows　of　the　dunes。

There　was　only　the　human　life；　however。　　I　have　looked　in　vain　for　the
crabs；　big　and　little；　that　swarm　on　the　Long　Island　shore；　and　there　are
hardly　any　gulls；　even；　perhaps　because　there　are　no　crabs　for　them　to
eat；　if　they　eat　crabs；　I　never　saw　gulls　doing　it；　but　they　must　eat
something。　　Dogs　there　are；　of　course；　wherever　there　are　people；　but
they　are　part　of　the　human　life。　　Dutch　dogs　are　in　fact　very　human；　and
one　I　saw　yesterday　behaved　quite　as　badly　as　a　bad　boy；　with　respect　to
his　muzzle。　　He　did　not　like　his　muzzle；　and　by　dint　of　turning
somersaults　in　the　sand　he　got　it　off；　and　went　frolicking　to　his　master
in　triumph　to　show　him　what　he　had　done。




VII。

It　is　now　the　last　day；　and　the　desolation　is　thickening　upon　our　hotel。
This　morning　the　door…posts　up　and　down　my　corridor　showed　not　a　single
pair　of　trousers；　not　a　pair　of　boots　flattered　the　lonely　doormats。　　In
the　lower　hall　I　found　the　tables　of　the　great　dining…room　assembled；　and
the　chairs　inverted　on　them　with　their　legs　in　the　air；　but　decently；
decorously；　not　with　the　reckless　abandon　displayed　by　the　chairs　in　our
Long　Island　hotel　for　weeks　before　it　closed。　　In　the　smaller　dining…room
the　table　was　set　for　lunch　as　if　we　were　to　go　on　dining　there　forever；
in　the　breakfast　…room　the　service　and　the　provision　were　as　perfect　as
ever。　　The　coffee　was　good；　the　bread　delicious；　the　butter　of　an
unfaltering　sweetness；　and　the　glaze　of　wear　on　the　polished　dress…coats
of　the　waiters　as　respectable　as　it　could　have　been　on　the　first　day　of
the　season。　　All　was　correct；　and　if　of　a　funereal　correctness　to　me；　I
am　sure　this　effect　was　purely　subjective。

The　little　bell…boys　in　sailor　suits　（perhaps　they　ought　to　be　spelled
bell…buoys）　clustered　about　the　elevator…boy　like　so　many　Roman　sentinels
at　their　posts；　the　elevator…boy　and　his　elevator　were　ready　to　take　us
up　or　down　at　any　moment。

The　portier　and　I　ignored　together　the　hour　of　parting；　which　we　had
definitely　ascertained　and　agreed　upon；　and　we　exchanged　some　compliments
to　the　weather；　which　is　now　settled；　as　if　we　expected　to　enjoy　it　long
together。　　I　rather　dread　going　in　to　lunch；　however；　for　I　fear　the
empty　places。




VIII。

All　is　over；　we　are　off。　　The　lunch　was　an　heroic　effort　of　the　hotel　to
hide　the　fact　of　our　separation。　　It　was　perfect；　unless　the　boiled　beef
was　a　confession　of　human　weakness；　but　even　this　boiled　beef　was
exquisite；　and　the　horseradish　that　went　with　it　was　so　mellowed　by　art
that　it　checked　rather　than　provoked　the　parting　tear。　　The　table　d'hote
had　reserved　a　final　surprise　for　us；　and　when　we　sat　down　with　the　fear
of　nothing　but　German　around　us；　we　heard　the　sound　of　our　own　speech
from　the　pleasantest　English　pair　we　had　yet　encountered；　and　the
travelling　English　are　pleasant；　I　will　say　it；　who　am　said　by　Sir　Walter
Besant　to　be　the　only　American　who　hates　their　nation。　　It　was　really　an
added　pang　to　go；　on　their　account；　but　the　carriage　was　waiting　at　the
door；　the　'domestique'　had　already　carried　our　baggage　to　the　steam…tram
station；　the　kindly　menial　train　formed　around　us　for　an　ultimate
'douceur'；　and　we　were　off；　after　the　'portier'　had　shut　us　into　our
vehicle　and　touched　his　oft…touched　cap　for　the　last　time；　while　the
hotel　facade　dissembled　its　grief　by　architecturally　smiling　in　the　soft
Dutch　sun。

I　liked　this　manner　of　leaving　better　than　carrying　part　of　my　own
baggage　to　the　train；　as　I　had　to　do　on　Long　Island；　though　that；　too；
had　its　charm；　the　charm　of　the　whole　fresh；　pungent　American　life；　which
at　this　distance　is　so　dear。







End