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For a long time he contemplated this luxurious building in astonishment, the six chimneys on its roof, its beautiful cornices and its tall windows, larger than the door of his father’s house at home. Finally he could not refrain from addressing a passer-by. “My good friend,” he said to him, “couldn’t you tell me the name of the gentleman who owns this wonderfully beautiful house with its windows full of tulips, daisies and stocks?” But the man, who presumably had something more important to do and unfortunately understood just as much of the German language as the questioner of Dutch, that is to say nothing, said shortly and brusquely, “Kannitverstan” and buzzed past.
Now this was a Dutch word, or three if you want to be exact, and means in German as much as “Ich kann Euch nicht verstehn.” (“I can’t understand you.” ) But the good stranger believed that this was the name of the man he had asked about. He must have been an awfully rich man, this Herr Kannitverstan, he thought and went on. Out one street, in another, he finally came to the bay they call there Het Ey, or in German, the Y. There stood ship beside ship and mast beside mast, and at first he didn’t know how he would manage to see and contemplate his fill of all these marvels with his two eyes alone, until finally his attention was caught by a large ship which had recently arrived from East India and was now being unloaded.
Whole rows of boxes and bales were already standing on and beside one another on land. But more kept being rolled out, and barrels full of sugar and coffee, full of rice and pepper and, pardon the expression, mouse droppings too. But when he had looked for a long time, he finally asked a fellow who was just carrying a chest on his shoulder for the name of the lucky man for whom the sea was bringing all these goods to shore. “Kannitverstan” was the reply. At this he thought, Aha, is that it?” No wonder, a man for whom the sea floats such treasures ashore can well afford to put such houses into the world and such breeds of tulips in front of his windows in gilded flowerpots.
Now he went back again and began a really sad speculation in his mind, what a poor man he was among so many rich people in the world. But just as he was thinking, if I had it as good as this Herr Kannitverstan, only once – he turned a corner and saw a long funeral procession. Four horses, draped in black, were drawing a hearse, which was likewise draped in black, slowly and mournfully, as if they knew that they were taking a dead man to his rest. A long train of friends and acquaintances of the deceased followed, pair by pair, enveloped in black coats and silent. In the distance a lonely bell was tolling.
CONT