"The reason for the invitation to visit my house is as follows," said Peter Pennickx in
a somewhat posh way. "You, as a connoisseur of porcelain and glassware..."
"Crystal," corrected Adrian Aardewerk.
"Well then, you as a connoisseur of porcelain and crystal, can help me. I inherited
from my uncle Archibald, who knew maybe even more about this stuff than you do, a
whole load of rubbish. It is here in my house right now and I really would appreciate you
giving it a glance."
The words 'stuff' and 'rubbish' made Aardewerk shiver, but Penninckx was a man of
great influence and it was better to avoid annoying him. For that sole reason Aardewerk
had accepted the invitation and found himself sipping at a glass of port that was much too
sweet.
"Before I show you the things, I must tell you something else," Pennickx continued his
speech. "My servant has left me, she's married and I've been alone for a week already. A
few days ago I sent for the locksmith to make me some extra large keyholes. This was of
course with a new maidservant in mind, but I'm sure you understood that," he said, with
a sly wink.
"At your service, Peter, but I am not a locksmith. I have no opinion on his work
whatsoever and for a good servant, you should contact my wife. At least she knows about
the normal skills a servant should have. I'm sure you can measure her beauty yourself
well enough, so I don't see the point in you trying to make me contribute to your
loveaffairs through my knowledge of porcelain."
"That's because you don't have the imagination I have", Penninckx said, feeling very
confident.
"I've thought about everything and nothing can go wrong if you help me. You know
how hard it is for a man of my age to get a young girl in bed. By the way, that is not my
first aim, since I cannot get satisfaction that way anymore. But I would like to give my
maid's bottom a strong touch of my flat hand."
Pennickx laughed loudly and Aardewerk didn't want to offend his host so he tried to
laugh too. He disliked Pennickx more and more and hoped this torture wouldn't continue
for too long.
"Is it possible for you to prepare a few pieces of my inheritance in such a way that
they will be sure to break? If so, I certainly have a reason to teach my servant some
respect."
Aardewerk had to swallow and did not know how to answer.
"It depends," he finally said. "I have to see your inheritance beforehand".
"That is possible, Adrian. It is in the next room."
He stood up and showed his guest to the antechamber where a few boxes filled with
woodshavings were exhibited. Carefully Aardewerk lifted a highly decorated piece of
crystal from the first box. He couldn't suppress his astonishment.
Before Pennickx could question him, Aardewerk said: "This is a part of the Muscovite
Crystal Wine Set and it is worth a fortune!"
"And what may be behind that name?" asked Pennickx, who still seemed to be more
interested in young female servants than in glassware from Moscow.
"Well, there is a legend about the Muscovite Crystal: Once it was in the proud
ownership of the Russian Csar Wladimir, who gave it to the Csarina on the day their first
child was born. On the child's third birthday, the Glassware was stolen, during a ball.
Nobody knew who took it. The Csar submitted the guests to a bodysearch, but even then it could not be found. To punish the guilty ones, he killed all the servants. The noblemen
were protected by their status of immunity, of course. But nevertheless, he wanted them
to suffer too and shaved off their beards and moustaches. Even the Csarina couldn't
prevent that, despite her being the only one who had any influence over him. Many of the
noblemen were furious because of this injustice. Especially so was the Grand Duke of
Transsyldavia. He swore that his beard had not disappeared without reason and promised
himself that one day justice would be done and he would be the owner of the Muscovite Crystal. In case he didn't manage this, his children had to continue the hunt, otherwise
they would not be allowed to wear the crown. Since that day, a replica of the Muscovite Crystal has often shown up, in order to obtain the enormous amount of money that the
Grand Duke of Transsyldavia reserved for this purpose".
"And this is the real Muscovite Crystal?" asked Pennickx, who became interested
after all.
"We can have a look. Just help me to unload the crate, Peter, then we'll know soon
enough!"
After a little while twelve glasses and a carafe stood on the table, shining brightly.
Carefully Aardewerk lifted the decanter, held the neck between his thumb and forefinger
and flicked the belly. A transparent sound filled the room. He then made the glasses sing
one by one by rubbing his wet finger around their rim. Each made a similar clear sound.
"I'm sorry, Peter, it is a very nice imitation, but there is far too much potassium in
this crystal to be the real one. Such an imatation isn't worth very much. I estimate about
ten guineas. But I want to give you fifteen if you'll let me."
"Oh, stop this merchant-like talk, Adrian! I didn't invite you for that. Whenever I'm
in need of fifteen guineas, I shall ask for you once more," Pennickx roared.
"But could you prepare this Muscovite Crystal in a way that it will easily break?"
"Well, you can look right through it, can't you? Crystal is a delicate material and one
can easily see if there's something wrong. But do you have any porcelain?"
"I'm sure there will be some. My uncle Archibald possessed many things. Just take a
look in the other box!"
From the second box Aardewerk lifted a mug which showed inscriptions with a strange
motive.
"Well, look what we have here! An Attilla-mug, that's perfect for our purpose," he
said. He smiled as he laid the object in the hands of his friend. Peter was neither
impressed with the piece of porcelain nor with Aardewerk's purpose for it.
"The great warrior Attilla plundered and stole during his raids but also he traded very
craftily. The things he stole in Western Europe, he exchanged in China for these cups.
Many thousands have been dug up in the pustas where Attilla finally retired. They are
even cheaper than your imitation glassware."
"A jolly good fellow you certainly are, Aardewerk. Will you prepare this little mug for
me?"
The connoisseur looked at his host and said: "I can see you are in a hurry. I'll take it
with me right away and this evening I'll start working on it, so that tomorrow my wife
can bring it to you."
"Splendid! That's the spirit! And... could your wife find me new servant too? You told
me she had experience in these matters."
"She certainly has and it pleases me greatly to help an old friend. What about eleven
o'clock in the morning?"
"I'll be there when your wife brings the cup along with the new maid."
These were the last words that were said before Aardewerk left Pennickx's
house.
Next morning at eleven o'clock the doorbell rang and Pennickx invited Mrs Aardewerk
and the girl in.
"May I show you the way to my office, Mrs Aardewerk?" he asked in a friendly
manner since he was feeling very good-humoured this morning.
"Of course my dear Mr. Pennickx," said Mrs Aardewerk, "and my husband urged me
not to forget to give this parcel to you."
"Splendid, splendid. Would you be so kind as to thank him very, very much? And
now let's take a look at the girl. What's her name?" he asked, directing the question not
to the girl but to Mrs Aardewerk.
"Her name is Anne-Christine van den Weezebeecke. She comes from the Southern
Lowlands from an old noble family that was ruined by uncalculated risks and gambling.
Apart from the Castle of Weezebeecke, that will be sold by auction very soon, only debts
are left. Nevertheless, some debts will still remain after that auction. This poor thing can
not help it, of course, it is the parents who have done wrong. Her father drank until he
died and her mother took her own life shortly afterwards. The children have to earn their
own living from now on."
"Well... well..." said Pennickx while he carefully studied the girl. The blond curls
around the sweet face and the intelligent look of Anne-Chistine made him feel good.
"Anne-Christine is a name that I find far too long. I'll call you Joanna instead. That's a
nice name too. Tomorrow you may start and you'll earn two guineas a week. Here's the
key." He spoke remarkably carefully.
The girl made a slight curtsey without saying anything. It was Mrs Aardewerk who
restarted the conversation.
"Mr. Pennickx, I'll take your words of gratitude to my husband and I am sure that
Anne-Chr... I mean Joanna will not disappoint you."
A few moments later, Peter Pennickx was alone again, unwrapping the paper from the
parcel he had received. The cup was hardly damaged at all. A small note in it said: "My
dear friend, the mug is broken and repaired with glue that dissolves in water. Let it be
cleaned and I guarantee it will break into pieces! I wish you a lot of succes,
Adrian."
Pennickx replaced the mug between the others and awaited the next events.
It was early in the morning and Joanna was busy in the kitchen for the first time. She
had made tea before Mr. Pennickx, who was still unshaven, took his seat at the kitchen
table.
"Well done, Joanna, it is good that there is a woman in this house again. Now I may
regain some regularity in my life. You can have this little room," he said, pointing at the
door and looking at the basket in which Joanna kept her clothing.
"As you like, sir," she answered in a voice that didn't leave Peter Penninckx
completely unaffected.
"The best thing is to start with the unpacking and cleaning of the articles inherited
from my uncle. He was a collector of glassware. His possessions are in the antechamber.
But don't break anything, because the collection is most valuable. There is a set amongst
them for which 700 noblemen were killed," he said, giving full reign to his fantasy. "I
shall take care of the rest of my breakfast myself".
"As you like, sir. I'll be careful," said Joanna as she walked out of the room, carrying
her basket.
After his breakfast, Pennickx went to the antechamber, where he saw Joanna busily
unloading the first of the crates.
"The glassware in the first box is a set you can clean, because I want to use it
immediately. You can fill the decanter with port-wine. The second box contains Attilla-mugs. This is Chinese porcelain and you may put it on the cupboard after you have
washed the dirt away. Then it will probably be time to do the shopping for our
dinner."
"As you like, sir," was Joanna's answer.
For once, Penninckx felt that it wasn't wise to go to The Small Society that day.
Instead, he preferred to stay at home and write a letter to his banker to complain about the
unnecessary delay with which their notes reached him. However, before he could sign this
letter, there was a knock on his office door.
"Come in," he called, and Joanna stepped in with the pieces of an Attilla-mug in her
cupped hands.
"I really couldn't help it, sir. The mug broke while I was washing it."
Mr. Pennickx, ignoring her confession, first put his signature under his writing and
then placed the letter in an envelope. He then turned to the girl.
"Come here, Joanna," he said. "Do you know where this cup comes from? My uncle
spent his entire life making this into a respectable collection and the very first employee
lets it fall to pieces. For ten centuries it has survived and yet you cannot hold it in your
hands for a quarter of an hour without breaking it. This mug is worth at least one
thousand five hundred guineas. You will never save that sum from your earnings. What
are we going to do about that?"
The girl looked around, desperate for an answer to this question. She was on the verge
of tears.
"When I get rich again, I will repay you as soon as possible," she finally said in a
toneless voice.
"Ha, ha, when you get rich again! You make me laugh. You are as poor as a beggar
and your family is in terrible debt. No, you lost a great deal of my money by your
clumsiness, but I'll be kind to you. Tonight, before you go to bed, you'll visit me in this
room and I'll smack your bottom. Maybe you'll learn how to be more careful next time.
You can go now."
"Thank you, sir", said Joanna, closing the door behind her.
That evening at nine o'clock Mr. Pennickx heard a knock on his door and Joanna
entered the office without waiting for permission. She was dressed in her nightgown and
remained by the door, without a word.
Pennickx moved from his desk, stood near a small armless chair and beckoned to
Joanna to step towards him. Joanna needed no explanation. She slipped out of her
nightgown and bent over the chair. Peter Pennickx looked at the girl's face, turned
towards him. Her cheeks became red and she closed her eyes. First, he gently touched her
hair then started the work that she had come for.
It seemed she did not feel enough at first, for she whispered "harder, harder!" as he
smacked her.
Pennickx redoubled his force but soon became tired. After twenty or thirty strokes, he
was satisfied and stopped.
"Oh please, do go on! I deserve it!" begged Joanna, from her uncomfortable
position.
"No, enough is enough", said Mr. Pennickx, "you must go to sleep now."
Joanna came back to reality and returned silently to her bedroom.
At breakfast, Mr. Pennickx found a cheerful Joanna in the kitchen. She was filling the
carafe with port. Pennickx was unsure how to review the events of the previous evening
but he began:
"Joanna, I noticed you obtained a certain amount of pleasure whilst receiving your
punishment. I intend to give you an extra guinea a week if we could repeat this every
day."
Joanna started at his generous proposition.
"But sir, the Lord has given us strict laws. If I deserve punishment, then I should
receive it, but punishment for money must be sinful."
Peter Pennickx was unprepared for such an answer.
"I think you are quite right, Joanna. God did not intend things like this to happen, but
what if it pleases us both?"
Joanna smiled teasingly at him. She placed one of the glasses of the Muscovite Crystal on the edge of the table, gently knocked it off, and caught it just before it
smashed into smithereens on the hard tiles of the floor.
"Accidents do tend to happen, don't they, sir?"
"Right again!" Pennickx had to admit, as a witness of this clever display.
"Every glass means twenty strokes, but if you break the decanter, you may buy a whip
at the saddlemaker's out of your own money to be sure you will get your lashes!"
"You are a kind master," the girl said and she began to clean the table with a
cloth.
While serving dinner, Joanna had to admit that she had broken one of the Muscovite
Glasses.
"What do you want me to do with the pieces, sir?" she asked boldly.
"Throw them away. But tonight you get twenty of 'em, as your punishment."
"As you like, sir," said Joanna, with an emotionless expression.
That night, they went through the same procedure, and it seemed to please her as
much as it had done the previous night. So the days came and went and Mr. Pennickx
became the luckiest man in the world! Every day a glass and every night his pleasure.
On the evening of the twelfth day Pennickx emptied his decanter, just as a precaution.
He gave it to Joanna.
"Here, take this carafe with you to the kitchen. Tomorrow you can clean and refill
it."
Joanna took the decanter under her arm while saying her usual "As you like, sir," and
left.
After an hour, Pennickx could no longer control his curiosity.
"Maybe she has broken it already? Strokes of the lash must be even more
exciting!"
He tiptoed to the kitchen in the hope of finding a heartwarming heap of fragments of
Crystal, but he could find neither the decanter nor the remains of it. Peter Pennickx then
went to Joanna's bedroom door and peered through the enlarged keyhole to discover whether Joanna had put it on the chest next to her bed.
He bowed and his eyes had to adapt to the dim light from the candle that lit her room.
After a few moments he saw Joanna dancing around with the decanter in her arms.
Sometimes she held it high, as if devoted to it, and sometimes she threw it in the air. At
regular intervals she held it to her bossom or she kissed its belly. The last thing he saw
was Joanna who, after letting her nightgown drop from her shoulders, stepped into the
bed with the decanter in her arms.
"What a sweet little devil," he thought, having witnessed this show, which ended when
Joanna blew out the candle.
From that moment, Pennickx could do nothing but listen, ear to the keyhole. And his
patience was rewarded, for he could hear Joanna pleasing herself with the crystal
decanter. He hoped that the thin neck would break by the wild movements she appeared to
be making and he was disappointed when it became silent.
Pennickx noticed he had become cold and stiff and he had to withdraw to the warmth
of his office.
He had not reached the end of the corridor when he heard the twinkling noise of
breaking crystal and Joanna's triumphant cry.
"At last," he thought, and looked forward to the next day.
Pennickx appeared at breakfast and gave no inkling that he had been peeping through
the keyhole most of the night. Joanna seemed to be confused and couldn't find the right
words when she said:
"The decanter doesn't exist any more. I had the broken pieces, but it is gone."
"You know what we agreed," said Pennickx who could cope well with this situation.
"You go to the saddlemaker's and buy yourself a whip today. Tonight I'll show you how
to use it."
"As you like, sir", she said, somewhat more relaxed now that things were clear again.
"I'll go as soon as possible."
After a while Joanna stepped out of the door, carrying her little basket. She was in a
hurry, but she passed the saddlemaker's shop without even looking at it. She went on to
Mr. Aardewerk's house, where she met the Consul of the Grand Duke of
Transsyldavia.
Ignoring her appearance as an employee, he bowed elegantly for her.
Aardewerk was worried and asked:
"And the decanter? Have you got the decanter with you too?"
Joanna smiled and pulled aside the clothes in her basket to reveal the twelve glasses
and the carafe.
"The coach to Weezebeecke leaves at noon and I must change my dress beforehand,"
she said.
The Transsyldavian Consul spoke:
"I've been to the Solicitor's and half the reward alone is enough to pay your father's
debts".
Then the two men bowed over the crystal.
"At first glance I knew this was the real set," said Aardewerk.
"But to get it here was quite another story," Anne-Christine van den Weezebeecke
thought.