The Soul of NicholasSnyders, or The Miser of

Zandam

Jerome K. Jerome

7th August 2002

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PrefatoryMaterials

The public-domain text was scanned andproofed by Ronald Burkey and Amy Thomte.It was subsequently converted to LATEX withGutenMark software and then re-editedwith lyx software. Report problems toinfo@birdsproject.org.

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THE SOUL OFNICHOLASSNYDERS, OR THEMISER OFZANDAM

Once upon a time in Zandam, which is bythe Zuider Zee, there lived a wicked mannamed Nicholas Snyders. He was mean andhard and cruel, and loved but one thing inthe world, and that was gold. And even thatnot for its own sake. He loved the powergold gave him–the power to tyrannize and tooppress, the power to cause suffering at hiswill. They said he had no soul, but there theywere wrong. All men own–or, to speak morecorrectly, are owned by–a soul; and the soul ofNicholas Snyders was an evil soul. He livedin the old windmill which still is standingon the quay, with only little Christina towait upon him and keep house for him.

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Christina was an orphan whose parentshad died in debt. Nicholas, to Christina’severlasting gratitude, had cleared theirmemory–it cost but a few hundred florins–inconsideration that Christina should work forhim without wages. Christina formed hisentire household, and only one willing visitorever darkened his door, the widow Toelast.Dame Toelast was rich and almost as great amiser as Nicholas himself. “Why should notwe two marry?” Nicholas had once croakedto the widow Toelast. “Together we should bemasters of all Zandam.” Dame Toelast hadanswered with a cackling laugh; but Nicholaswas never in haste.

One afternoon Nicholas Snyders satalone at his desk in the centre of the greatsemi-circular room that took up half theground floor of the windmill, and that servedhim for an office, and there came a knockingat the outer door.

“Come in!” cried Nicholas Snyders. Hespoke in a tone quite kind for NicholasSnyders. He felt so sure it was Jan knockingat the door–Jan Van der Voort, the youngsailor, now master of his own ship, come todemand of him the hand of little Christina.In anticipation, Nicholas Snyders tasted thejoy of dashing Jan’s hopes to the ground; ofhearing him plead, then rave; of watching thegrowing pallor that would overspread Jan’shandsome face as Nicholas would, point by

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point, explain to him the consequences ofdefiance–how, firstly, Jan’s old mother shouldbe turned out of her home, his old fatherput into prison for debt; how, secondly, Janhimself should be pursued without remorse,his ship be bought over his head before hecould complete the purchase. The interviewwould afford to Nicholas Snyders sport afterhis own soul. Since Jan’s return the daybefore, he had been looking forward to it.Therefore, feeling sure it was Jan, he cried“Come in!” quite cheerily.

But it was not Jan. It was somebodyNicholas Snyders had never set eyes onbefore. And neither, after that one visit, didNicholas Snyders ever set eyes upon himagain. The light was fading, and NicholasSnyders was not the man to light candlesbefore they were needed, so that he wasnever able to describe with any precision thestranger’s appearance. Nicholas thoughthe seemed an old man, but alert in allhis movements; while his eyes–the onething about him Nicholas saw with anyclearness–were curiously bright and piercing.

“Who are you?” asked NicholasSnyders, taking no pains to disguise hisdisappointment.

“I am a pedlar,” answered the stranger. Hisvoice was clear and not unmusical, with justthe suspicion of roguishness behind.

“Not wanting anything,” answered

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Nicholas Snyders drily. “Shut the door and becareful of the step.”

But instead the stranger took a chairand drew it nearer, and, himself in shadow,looked straight into Nicholas Snyders’ faceand laughed.

“Are you quite sure, Nicholas Snyders? Areyou quite sure there is nothing you require?”

“Nothing,” growled Nicholas Snyders–"except the sight of your back.” The strangerbent forward, and with his long, lean handtouched Nicholas Snyders playfully upon theknee. “Wouldn’t you like a soul, NicholasSnyders?” he asked.

“Think of it,” continued the strange pedlar,before Nicholas could recover power of speech.“For forty years you have drunk the joy of be-ing mean and cruel. Are you not tired of thetaste, Nicholas Snyders? Wouldn’t you likea change? Think of it, Nicholas Snyders–thejoy of being loved, of hearing yourself blessed,instead of cursed! Wouldn’t it be good fun,Nicholas Snyders–just by way of a change? Ifyou don’t like it, you can return and be your-self again.”

What Nicholas Snyders, recalling allthings afterwards, could never understandwas why he sat there, listening in patience tothe stranger’s talk; for, at the time, it seemedto him the jesting of a wandering fool. Butsomething about the stranger had impressedhim.

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“I have it with me,” continued the odd ped-lar; “and as for price–” The stranger made agesture indicating dismissal of all sordid de-tails. “I look for my reward in watching theresult of the experiment. I am something of aphilosopher. I take an interest in these mat-ters. See.” The stranger dived between hislegs and produced from his pack a silver flaskof cunning workmanship and laid it on the ta-ble.

“Its flavour is not unpleasant,” explainedthe stranger. “A little bitter; but one does notdrink it by the goblet: a wineglassful, suchas one would of old Tokay, while the mind ofboth is fixed on the same thought: ‘May mysoul pass into him, may his pass into me!’The operation is quite simple: the secret lieswithin the drug.” The stranger patted thequaint flask as though it had been some littledog.

“You will say: ‘Who will exchange soulswith Nicholas Snyders?”’ The strangerappeared to have come prepared with ananswer to all questions. “My friend, you arerich; you need not fear. It is the possessionmen value the least of all they have. Chooseyour soul and drive your bargain. I leave thatto you with one word of counsel only: youwill find the young readier than the old–theyoung, to whom the world promises all thingsfor gold. Choose you a fine, fair, fresh, youngsoul, Nicholas Snyders; and choose it quickly.

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Your hair is somewhat grey, my friend. Taste,before you die, the joy of living.”

The strange pedlar laughed and, rising,closed his pack. Nicholas Snyders neithermoved nor spoke, until with the soft clangingof the massive door his senses returned tohim. Then, seizing the flask the strangerhad left behind him, he sprang from hischair, meaning to fling it after him into thestreet. But the flashing of the firelight on itsburnished surface stayed his hand.

“After all, the case is of value,” Nicholaschuckled, and put the flask aside and, light-ing the two tall candles, buried himself againin his green-bound ledger. Yet still from timeto time Nicholas Snyders’ eye would wanderto where the silver flask remained half hiddenamong dusty papers. And later there cameagain a knocking at the door, and this timeit really was young Jan who entered.

Jan held out his great hand across the lit-tered desk.

“We parted in anger, Nicholas Snyders. Itwas my fault. You were in the right. I ask youto forgive me. I was poor. It was selfish of meto wish the little maid to share with me mypoverty. But now I am no longer poor.”

“Sit down,” responded Nicholas in kindlytone. “I have heard of it. So now you aremaster and the owner of your ship–your veryown.”

“My very own after one more voyage,”

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laughed Jan. “I have Burgomaster Allart’spromise.”

“A promise is not a performance,” hintedNicholas. “Burgomaster Allart is not a richman; a higher bid might tempt him. Anothermight step in between you and become theowner.”

Jan only laughed. “Why, that would be thework of an enemy, which, God be praised, I donot think that I possess.”

“Lucky lad!” commented Nicholas; “so fewof us are without enemies. And your parents,Jan, will they live with you?”

“We wished it,” answered Jan, “bothChristina and I. But the mother is feeble. Theold mill has grown into her life.”

“I can understand,” agreed Nicholas. “Theold vine torn from the old wall withers. Andyour father, Jan; people will gossip. The millis paying?”

Jan shook his head. “It never will again;and the debts haunt him. But all that, as Itell him, is a thing of the past. His creditorshave agreed to look to me and wait.”

“All of them?” queried Nicholas.“All of them I could discover,” laughed Jan.Nicholas Snyders pushed back his chair

and looked at Jan with a smile upon hiswrinkled face. “And so you and Christinahave arranged it all?”

“With your consent, sir,” answered Jan.“You will wait for that?” asked Nicholas.

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“We should like to have it, sir.” Jan smiled,but the tone of his voice fell agreeably onNicholas Snyders’ ear. Nicholas Snydersloved best beating the dog that, growled andshowed its teeth.

“Better not wait for that,” said NicholasSnyders. “You might have to wait long.”

Jan rose, an angry flush upon his face. “Sonothing changes you, Nicholas Snyders. Haveit your own way, then.”

“You will marry her in spite of me?”“In spite of you and of your friends

the fiends, and of your master the Devil!”flung out Jan. For Jan had a soul thatwas generous and brave and tender andexcessively short-tempered. Even the best ofsouls have their failings.

“I am sorry,” said old Nicholas.“I am glad to hear it,” answered Jan.“I am sorry for your mother,” explained

Nicholas. “The poor dame, I fear, will behomeless in her old age. The mortgage shallbe foreclosed, Jan, on your wedding-day. Iam sorry for your father, Jan. His creditors,Jan–you have overlooked just one. I am sorryfor him, Jan. Prison has always been hisdread. I am sorry even for you, my youngfriend. You will have to begin life over again.Burgomaster Allart is in the hollow of myhand. I have but to say the word, your ship ismine. I wish you joy of your bride, my youngfriend. You must love her very dearly–you

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will be paying a high price for her.”It was Nicholas Snyders’ grin that

maddened Jan. He sought for somethingthat, thrown straight at the wicked mouth,should silence it, and by chance his handlighted on the pedlar’s silver flask. In thesame instance Nicholas Snyders’ hand hadclosed upon it also. The grin had died away.

“Sit down,” commanded Nicholas Snyders.“Let us talk further.” And there was that inhis voice that compelled the younger man’sobedience.

“You wonder, Jan, why I seek always angerand hatred. I wonder at times myself. Whydo generous thoughts never come to me, as toother men! Listen, Jan; I am in a whimsicalmood. Such things cannot be, but it is a whimof mine to think it might have been. Sell meyour soul, Jan, sell me your soul, that I, too,may taste this love and gladness that I hearabout. For a little while, Jan, only for a littlewhile, and I will give you all you desire.”

The old man seized his pen and wrote.“See, Jan, the ship is yours beyond mishap;

the mill goes free; your father may hold up hishead again. And all I ask, Jan, is that youdrink to me, willing the while that your soulmay go from you and become the soul of oldNicholas Snyders–for a little while, Jan, onlyfor a little while.”

With feverish hands the old man haddrawn the stopper from the pedlar’s flagon,

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had poured the wine into twin glasses. Jan’sinclination was to laugh, but the old man’seagerness was almost frenzy. Surely he wasmad; but that would not make less bindingthe paper he had signed. A true man does notjest with his soul, but the face of Christinawas shining down on Jan from out the gloom.

“You will mean it?” whispered NicholasSnyders.

“May my soul pass from me and enter intoNicholas Snyders!” answered Jan, replacinghis empty glass upon the table. And the twostood looking for a moment into one another’seyes.

And the high candles on the littered deskflickered and went out, as though a breathhad blown them, first one and then the other.

“I must be getting home,” came the voice ofJan from the darkness. “Why did you blow outthe candles?”

“We can light them again from the fire,”answered Nicholas. He did not add that hehad meant to ask that same question of Jan.He thrust them among the glowing logs, firstone and then the other; and the shadows creptback into their corners.

“You will not stop and see Christina?”asked Nicholas.

“Not to-night,” answered Jan.“The paper that I signed,” Nicholas

reminded him–"you have it?”“I had forgotten it,” Jan answered.

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The old man took it from the desk andhanded it to him. Jan thrust it into hispocket and went out. Nicholas bolted the doorbehind him and returned to his desk; sat longthere, his elbow resting on the open ledger.

Nicholas pushed the ledger aside andlaughed. “What foolery! As if such thingscould be! The fellow must have bewitchedme.”

Nicholas crossed to the fire and warmedhis hands before the blaze. “Still, I am gladhe is going to marry the little lass. A good lad,a good lad.”

Nicholas must have fallen asleep beforethe fire. When he opened his eyes, it wasto meet the grey dawn. He felt cold, stiff,hungry, and decidedly cross. Why had notChristina woke him up and given him hissupper. Did she think he had intended topass the night on a wooden chair? The girlwas an idiot. He would go upstairs and tellher through the door just what he thought ofher.

His way upstairs led through the kitchen.To his astonishment, there sat Christina,asleep before the burnt-out grate.

“Upon my word,” muttered Nicholas tohimself, “people in this house don’t seem toknow what beds are for!”

But it was not Christina, so Nicholastold himself. Christina had the look of afrightened rabbit: it had always irritated

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him. This girl, even in her sleep, worean impertinent expression–a delightfullyimpertinent expression. Besides, this girl waspretty–marvellously pretty. Indeed, so prettya girl Nicholas had never seen in all his lifebefore. Why had the girls, when Nicholas wasyoung, been so entirely different! A suddenbitterness seized Nicholas: it was as thoughhe had just learnt that long ago, withoutknowing it, he had been robbed.

The child must be cold. Nicholas fetchedhis fur-lined cloak and wrapped it about her.

There was something else he ought to do.The idea came to him while drawing the cloakaround her shoulders, very gently, not to dis-turb her–something he wanted to do, if only hecould think what it was. The girl’s lips wereparted. She appeared to be speaking to him,asking him to do this thing–or telling him notto do it. Nicholas could not be sure which.Half a dozen times he turned away, and half adozen times stole back to where she sat sleep-ing with that delightfully impertinent expres-sion on her face, her lips parted. But what shewanted, or what it was he wanted, Nicholascould not think.

Perhaps Christina would know. PerhapsChristina would know who she was and howshe got there. Nicholas climbed the stairs,swearing at them for creaking.

Christina’s door was open. No one was inthe room; the bed had not been slept upon.

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Nicholas descended the creaking stairs.The girl was still asleep. Could it be

Christina herself? Nicholas examined thedelicious features one by one. Never before,so far as he could recollect, had he seen thegirl; yet around her neck–Nicholas had notnoticed it before–lay Christina’s locket, risingand falling as she breathed. Nicholas knew itwell; the one thing belonging to her motherChristina had insisted on keeping. The onething about which she had ever defied him.She would never have parted with thatlocket. It must be Christina herself. Butwhat had happened to her? Or to himself.Remembrance rushed in upon him. The oddpedlar! The scene with Jan! But surely allthat had been a dream? Yet there upon thelittered desk still stood the pedlar’s silverflask, together with the twin stained glasses.

Nicholas tried to think, but his brainwas in a whirl. A ray of sunshine streamingthrough the window fell across the dustyroom. Nicholas had never seen the sun, thathe could recollect. Involuntarily he stretchedhis hands towards it, felt a pang of grief whenit vanished, leaving only the grey light. Hedrew the rusty bolts, flung open the greatdoor. A strange world lay before him, a newworld of lights and shadows, that wooed himwith their beauty–a world of low, soft voicesthat called to him. There came to him againthat bitter sense of having been robbed.

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“I could have been so happy all theseyears,” murmured old Nicholas to himself. “Itis just the little town I could have loved–soquaint, so quiet, so homelike. I might havehad friends, old cronies, children of my ownmaybe–”

A vision of the sleeping Christina flashedbefore his eyes. She had come to him a child,feeling only gratitude towards him. Had hehad eyes with which to see her, all thingsmight have been different.

Was it too late? He is not so old–not sovery old. New life is in his veins. She stillloves Jan, but that was the Jan of yesterday.In the future, Jan’s every word and deed willbe prompted by the evil soul that was once thesoul of Nicholas Snyders–that Nicholas Sny-ders remembers well. Can any woman lovethat, let the case be as handsome as you will?

Ought he, as an honest man, to keep thesoul he had won from Jan by what might becalled a trick? Yes, it had been a fair bar-gain, and Jan had taken his price. Besides, itwas not as if Jan had fashioned his own soul;these things are chance. Why should one manbe given gold, and another be given parchedpeas? He has as much right to Jan’s soul asJan ever had. He is wiser, he can do more goodwith it. It was Jan’s soul that loved Christina;let Jan’s soul win her if it can. And Jan’s soul,listening to the argument, could not think ofa word to offer in opposition.

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Christina was still asleep when Nicholasre-entered the kitchen. He lighted the fireand cooked the breakfast and then arousedher gently. There was no doubt it wasChristina. The moment her eyes restedon old Nicholas, there came back to herthe frightened rabbit look that had alwaysirritated him. It irritated him now, but theirritation was against himself.

“You were sleeping so soundly when I camein last night–” Christina commenced.

“And you were afraid to wake me,”Nicholas interrupted her. “You thought theold curmudgeon would be cross. Listen,Christina. You paid off yesterday the lastdebt your father owed. It was to an oldsailor–I had not been able to find him before.Not a cent more do you owe, and thereremains to you, out of your wages, a hundredflorins. It is yours whenever you like to askme for it.”

Christina could not understand, neitherthen nor during the days that followed; nordid Nicholas enlighten her. For the soul ofJan had entered into a very wise old man,who knew that the best way to live down thepast is to live boldly the present. All thatChristina could be sure of was that the oldNicholas Snyders had mysteriously vanished,that in his place remained a new Nicholas,who looked at her with kindly eyes–frankand honest, compelling confidence. Though

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Nicholas never said so, it came to Christinathat she herself, her sweet example, herennobling influence it was that had wroughtthis wondrous change. And to Christina theexplanation seemed not impossible–seemedeven pleasing.

The sight of his littered desk was hatefulto him. Starting early in the morning,Nicholas would disappear for the entire day,returning in the evening tired but cheerful,bringing with him flowers that Christinalaughed at, telling him they were weeds. Butwhat mattered names? To Nicholas theywere beautiful. In Zandam the children ranfrom him, the dogs barked after him. SoNicholas, escaping through byways, wouldwander far into the country. Children in thevillages around came to know a kind oldfellow who loved to linger, his hands restingon his staff, watching their play, listening totheir laughter; whose ample pockets werestorehouses of good things. Their elders,passing by, would whisper to one another howlike he was in features to wicked old Nick,the miser of Zandam, and would wonderwhere he came from. Nor was it only thefaces of the children that taught his lips tosmile. It troubled him at first to find theworld so full of marvellously pretty girls–ofpretty women also, all more or less lovable.It bewildered him. Until he found that,notwithstanding, Christina remained always

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in his thoughts the prettiest, the most lovableof them all. Then every pretty face rejoicedhim: it reminded him of Christina.

On his return the second day, Christinahad met him with sadness in her eyes.Farmer Beerstraater, an old friend of herfather’s, had called to see Nicholas; notfinding Nicholas, had talked a little withChristina. A hardhearted creditor wasturning him out of his farm. Christinapretended not to know that the creditor wasNicholas himself, but marvelled that suchwicked men could be. Nicholas said nothing,but the next day Farmer Beerstraater hadcalled again, all smiles, blessings, and greatwonder.

“But what can have come to him?”repeated Farmer Beerstraater over and over.

Christina had smiled and answered thatperhaps the good God had touched his heart;but thought to herself that perhaps it hadbeen the good influence of another. The taleflew. Christina found herself besieged onevery hand, and, finding her intercessionsinvariably successful, grew day by day morepleased with herself, and by consequencemore pleased with Nicholas Snyders. ForNicholas was a cunning old gentleman. Jan’ssoul in him took delight in undoing the evilthe soul of Nicholas had wrought. But thebrain of Nicholas Snyders that remained tohim whispered: “Let the little maid think it is

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all her doing.”The news reached the ears of Dame

Toelast. The same evening saw her seated inthe inglenook opposite Nicholas Snyders, whosmoked and seemed bored.

“You are making a fool of yourself, NicholasSnyders,” the Dame told him. “Everybody islaughing at you.”

“I had rather they laughed than cursedme,” growled Nicholas.

“Have you forgotten all that has passed be-tween us?” demanded the Dame.

“Wish I could,” sighed Nicholas.“At your age–” commenced the Dame.“I am feeling younger than I ever felt in all

my life,” Nicholas interrupted her.“You don’t look it,” commented the Dame.“What do looks matter?” snapped

Nicholas. “It is the soul of a man that is thereal man.”

“They count for something, as the worldgoes,” explained the Dame. “Why, if I liked tofollow your example and make a fool of myself,there are young men, fine young men, hand-some young men–”

“Don’t let me stand in your way,”interposed Nicholas quickly. “As you say, Iam old and I have a devil of a temper. Theremust be many better men than I am, menmore worthy of you.”

“I don’t say there are not,” returned theDame: “but nobody more suitable. Girls for

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boys, and old women for old men. I haven’tlost my wits, Nicholas Snyders, if you have.When you are yourself again–”

Nicholas Snyders sprang to his feet. “I ammyself,” he cried, “and intend to remain my-self! Who dares say I am not myself?”

“I do,” retorted the Dame with exasperat-ing coolness.” Nicholas Snyders is not himselfwhen at the bidding of a pretty-faced dollhe flings his money out of the window withboth hands. He is a creature bewitched, andI am sorry for him. She’ll fool you for thesake of her friends till you haven’t a cent left,and then she’ll laugh at you. When you areyourself, Nicholas Snyders, you will be crazywith yourself–remember that.” And DameToelast marched out and slammed the doorbehind her.

“Girls for boys, and old women for oldmen.” The phrase kept ringing in his ears.Hitherto his new-found happiness had filledhis life, leaving no room for thought. Butthe old Dame’s words had sown the seed ofreflection.

Was Christina fooling him? The thoughtwas impossible. Never once had she pleadedfor herself, never once for Jan. The evilthought was the creature of Dame Toelast’sevil mind. Christina loved him. Her facebrightened at his coming. The fear of him hadgone out of her; a pretty tyranny had replacedit. But was it the love that he sought? Jan’s

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soul in old Nick’s body was young and ardent.It desired Christina not as a daughter, but asa wife. Could it win her in spite of old Nick’sbody? The soul of Jan was an impatient soul.Better to know than to doubt.

“Do not light the candles; let us talka little by the light of the fire only,” saidNicholas. And Christina, smiling, drew herchair towards the blaze. But Nicholas sat inthe shadow.

“You grow more beautiful every day,Christina,” said Nicholas– “sweeter and morewomanly. He will be a happy man who callsyou wife.”

The smile passed from Christina’s face. “Ishall never marry,” she answered. “Never is along word, little one.”

“A true woman does not marry the man shedoes not love.”

“But may she not marry the man shedoes?” smiled Nicholas.

“Sometimes she may not,” Christinaexplained.

“And when is that?”Christina’s face was turned away. “When

he has ceased to love her.”The soul in old Nick’s body leapt with joy.

“He is not worthy of you, Christina. His newfortune has changed him. Is it not so? Hethinks only of money. It is as though the soulof a miser had entered into him. He wouldmarry even Dame Toelast for the sake of her

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gold-bags and her broad lands and her manymills, if only she would have him. Cannot youforget him?”

“I shall never forget him. I shall neverlove another man. I try to hide it; and oftenI am content to find there is so much inthe world that I can do. But my heart isbreaking.” She rose and, kneeling beside him,clasped her hands around him. “I am gladyou have let me tell you,” she said. “But foryou I could not have borne it. You are so goodto me.”

For answer he stroked with his witheredhand the golden hair that fell disorderedabout his withered knees. She raised hereyes to him; they were filled with tears, butsmiling.

“I cannot understand,” she said. “I thinksometimes that you and he must havechanged souls. He is hard and mean andcruel, as you used to be.” She laughed, andthe arms around him tightened for a moment.“And now you are kind and tender and great,as once he was. It is as if the good God hadtaken away my lover from me to give to me afather.”

“Listen to me, Christina,” he said. “It is thesoul that is the man, not the body. Could younot love me for my new soul?”

“But I do love you,” answered Christina,smiling through her tears.

“Could you as a husband?” The firelight

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fell upon her face. Nicholas, holding it be-tween his withered hands, looked into it longand hard; and reading what he read there,laid it back against his breast and soothed itwith his withered hand.

“I was jesting, little one,” he said. “Girls forboys, and old women for old men. And so, inspite of all, you still love Jan?”

“I love him,” answered Christina. “I cannothelp it.”

“And if he would, you would marry him, lethis soul be what it may?”

“I love him,” answered Christina. “I cannothelp it.”

Old Nicholas sat alone before the dyingfire. Is it the soul or the body that is the realman? The answer was not so simple as hehad thought it.

“Christina loved Jan"–so Nicholasmumbled to the dying fire–"when he had thesoul of Jan. She loves him still, though he hasthe soul of Nicholas Snyders. When I askedher if she could love me, it was terror I readin her eyes, though Jan’s soul is now in me;she divined it. It must be the body that isthe real Jan, the real Nicholas. If the soulof Christina entered into the body of DameToelast, should I turn from Christina, fromher golden hair, her fathomless eyes, herasking lips, to desire the shrivelled carcass ofDame Toelast? No; I should still shudder atthe thought of her. Yet when I had the soul of

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Nicholas Snyders, I did not loathe her, whileChristina was naught to me. It must be withthe soul that we love, else Jan would still loveChristina and I should be Miser Nick. Yethere am I loving Christina, using NicholasSnyders’ brain and gold to thwart NicholasSnyders’ every scheme, doing everything thatI know will make him mad when he comesback into his own body; while Jan cares nolonger for Christina, would marry DameToelast for her broad lands, her many mills.Clearly it is the soul that is the real man.Then ought I not to be glad, thinking I amgoing back into my own body, knowing thatI shall wed Christina? But I am not glad; Iam very miserable. I shall not go with Jan’ssoul, I feel it; my own soul will come back tome. I shall be again the hard, cruel, mean oldman I was before, only now I shall be poorand helpless. The folks will laugh at me, andI shall curse them, powerless to do them evil.Even Dame Toelast will not want me whenshe learns all. And yet I must do this thing.So long as Jan’s soul is in me, I love Christinabetter than myself. I must do this for hersake. I love her–I cannot help it.”

Old Nicholas rose, took from the place,where a month before he had hidden it, thesilver flask of cunning workmanship.

“Just two more glassfuls left,” musedNicholas, as he gently shook the flask againsthis ear. He laid it on the desk before him,

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then opened once again the old green ledger,for there still remained work to be done.

He woke Christina early. “Take these let-ters, Christina,” he commanded. “When youhave delivered them all, but not before, go toJan; tell him I am waiting here to see himon a matter of business.” He kissed her andseemed loth to let her go.

“I shall only be a little while,” smiledChristina.

“All partings take but a little while,” he an-swered.

Old Nicholas had foreseen the trouble hewould have. Jan was content, had no desireto be again a sentimental young fool, eager tosaddle himself with a penniless wife. Jan hadother dreams.

“Drink, man, drink!” cried Nicholasimpatiently, “before I am tempted to changemy mind. Christina, provided you marry her,is the richest bride in Zandam. There is thedeed; read it; and read quickly.”

Then Jan consented, and the two mendrank. And there passed a breath betweenthem as before; and Jan with his handscovered his eyes a moment.

It was a pity, perhaps, that he did so, for inthat moment Nicholas snatched at the deedthat lay beside Jan on the desk. The next in-stant it was blazing in the fire.

“Not so poor as you thought!” came thecroaking voice of Nicholas. “Not so poor as

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you thought! I can build again, I can buildagain!” And the creature, laughing hideously,danced with its withered arms spread out be-fore the blaze, lest Jan should seek to rescueChristina’s burning dowry before it was de-stroyed.

Jan did not tell Christina. In spite of allJan could say, she would go back. NicholasSnyders drove her from the door with curses.She could not understand. The only thingclear was that Jan had come back to her.

“’Twas a strange madness that seized uponme,” Jan explained. “Let the good sea breezesbring us health.”

So from the deck of Jan’s ship they watchedold Zandam till it vanished into air.

Christina cried a little at the thought ofnever seeing it again; but Jan comforted herand later new faces hid the old.

And old Nicholas married Dame Toelast,but, happily, lived to do evil only for a fewyears longer.

Long after, Jan told Christina the wholestory, but it sounded very improbable, andChristina–though, of course, she did notsay so–did not quite believe it, but thoughtJan was trying to explain away that strangemonth of his life during which he had wooedDame Toelast. Yet it certainly was strangethat Nicholas, for the same short month, hadbeen so different from his usual self.

“Perhaps,” thought Christina, “if I had not

30 Jerome K. Jerome

told him I loved Jan, he would not have goneback to his old ways. Poor old gentleman! Nodoubt it was despair.”