“Where have you put it all, Mr Vanslyperken?” inquired the widow.  And Vanslyperken replied that he had come to ask her advice on the subject, as it was at present all on board of the cutter.  The widow, who was not indifferent to money, was more gracious than ever.  She had a scheme in her head of persuading him to leave the money under her charge; but Vanslyperken was anxious to go on board again, for he discovered that the key was not in his pocket, and he was fearful that he might have left it on the cabin table; so he quitted rather abruptly, and the widow had not time to bring the battery to bear.  As soon as Mr Vanslyperken arrived on board, Corporal Van Spitter, without asking leave, for he felt it was not necessary, went on shore, and was soon in the arms of his enamoured widow Vandersloosh.  In the meantime, Mr Vanslyperken discovered the key in the pocket of the waistcoat he had thrown off, and having locked his door, he again opened his drawer, and delighted himself for an hour or two in re-arranging his treasure; after which, feeling himself in want of occupation, it occurred to him, that he might as well dedicate a little more time to the widow, so he manned his boat and went on shore again.

It is all very well to have a morning and afternoon lover if ladies are so inclined, just as they have a morning and afternoon dress, but they should be worn separately.  Now, as it never entered the head of Mr Vanslyperken that the corporal was playing him false, so did it never enter the idea of the widow, that Mr Vanslyperken would make his appearance in the evening, and leave the cutter and Snarleyyow, without the corporal being on board to watch over them.

But Mr Vanslyperken did leave the cutter and Snarleyyow, did come on shore, did walk to the widow’s house, and did most unexpectedly enter it, and what was the consequence?—­that he was not perceived when he entered it, and the door of the parlour as well as the front door being open to admit the air, for the widow and the corporal found that making love in the dog days was rather warm work for people of their calibre—­to his mortification and rage the lieutenant beheld the corporal seated in his berth, on the little fubsy sofa, with one arm round the widow’s waist, his other hand joined in hers, and, proh pudor! sucking at her dewy lips like some huge carp under the water-lilies on a midsummer’s afternoon.

Mr Vanslyperken was transfixed—­the parties were too busy with their amorous interchange to perceive his presence; at last the corporal thought that his lips required moistening with a little of the beer of the widow’s own brewing, for the honey of her lips had rather glued them together—­he turned towards the table to take up his tumbler, and he beheld Mr Vanslyperken.

The corporal, for a moment, was equally transfixed, but on these occasions people act mechanically because they don’t know what to do.  The corporal had been well drilled, he rose from the sofa, held himself perfectly upright, and raised the back of his right hand to his forehead, there he stood like a statue saluting at the presence of his superior officer.