"Tousand tyfels!" roared the corporal, dashing his foot upon one of the
flaps of the little table before them with so much force, that it was
broken short off and fell down on the floor.
"Hundred tousand tyfels!" continued the corporal, when he witnessed the
effects of his violence.
Although the widow lamented her table, she forgave the corporal with a
smile; she liked such proofs of strength in her intended, and she,
moreover, knew that the accident was occasioned by indignation at
Vanslyperken.
"Yes, yes, Mr Vanslyperken, you'll pay me for that," exclaimed she; "I
prophesy that before long you and your nasty cur will both swing
together."
The corporal now walked across the little parlour and back again, then
turned to the widow Vandersloosh, and with a most expressive look
slowly muttered,
"Yes, mein Gott!"
After which he sat down again by the side of the widow, and they had a
short consultation; before it was over, Corporal Van Spitter declared
himself the deadly enemy of Lieutenant Vanslyperken; swore that he would
be his ruin, and ratified the oath upon the widow's lips.
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