and consideration were more than religion and liberty, while the poor
men, who laboriously supported their families by the sweat of their
brows, were joyously determined to sacrifice money and blood for the good
cause.

There was obstacle after obstacle to conquer.  The scaffolds and barns,
frames and all other wood-work that could serve to conceal a man, were to
be levelled to the earth, as all the country-houses and other buildings
near the city had formerly been.  Much newly-erected woodwork was already
removed, but the rich longest resisted having the axe put to theirs.  New
earthworks had been commenced at the important fort of Valkenburg; but
part of the land, where the workmen were obliged to dig, belonged to a
brewer, who demanded a large sum in compensation for his damaged meadow.
When the siege was raised in March, paper-money was restored, round
pieces of pasteboard, one side of which bore the Netherland lion, with
the inscription, "Haec libertatis ergo," while the other had the coat-of-
arms of the city and the motto "God guard Leyden."  These were intended
to be exchanged for coin or provisions, but rich speculators had obtained
possession of many pieces, and were trying to raise their value.  Demands
of every kind pressed upon him, and amid all these claims the burgomaster
was also compelled to think of his own affairs, for all intercourse with
the outside world would soon be cut off, and it was necessary to settle
many things with the representative of his business in Hamburg.  Great
losses were threatening, but he left no means untried to secure for his
family what might yet be saved.

He rarely saw wife or children; yet thought he was fulfilling the promise
Maria had obtained from him the evening after his return, when he briefly
answered her questions or voluntarily gave her such sentences as "There
was warm work at the town-hall to-day!"  or, "It is more difficult to
circulate the paper-money than we expected!"  He did not feel the kindly
necessity of having a confidante and expressing his feelings, and his
first wife had been perfectly contented and happy, if he sat silently
beside her during quiet hours, called her his treasure, petted the
children, or even praised her cracknels and Sunday roast.  Business and
public affairs had been his concern, the kitchen and nursery hers.  What
they had shared, was the consciousness of the love one felt for the
other, their children, the distinction, honors and possessions of the
household.

Maria asked more and he was ready to grant it, but when in the evening
she pressed the wearied man with questions he was accustomed to hear only
from the lips of men, he put her off for the answers till less busy
times, or fell asleep in the midst of her inquiries.

She saw how many burdens oppressed him, how unweariedly he toiled--but
why did he not move a portion of the load to other shoulders?

Once, during the beautiful spring weather, he went out with her into the
country.  She seized upon the opportunity to represent that it was his
duty to himself and her to gain more rest.

He listened patiently, and when she had finished her entreaty and
warnings, took her hand in his, saying:

"You have met Herr Marnix von St. Aldegonde and know what the cause of
liberty owes him.  Do you know his motto?"

She nodded and answered softly: "Repos ailleurs."

"Where else can we rest," he repeated firmly.

A slight shiver ran through her limbs, and as she withdrew her hands, she
could not help thinking: "Where else;-so not here.  Rest and happiness
have no home here."  She did not utter the words, but could not drive
them from her mind.




CHAPTER XII.

During these May days the Hoogstraten mansion was the quietest of all the
houses in quiet Nobelstrasse.  By the orders of Doctor Bontius and the
sick lady's attorney, a mixture of straw and sand lay on the cause-way
before it.  The windows were closely curtained, and a piece of felt hung
between the door and the knocker.  The door was ajar, but a servant sat
close behind it to answer those who sought admission.

On a morning early in May the musician, Wilhelm Corneliussohn, and Janus
Dousa turned the corner of Nobelstrasse.  Both men were engaged in eager
conversation, but as they approached the straw and sand, their voices
became lower and then ceased entirely.

"The carpet we spread under the feet of the conqueror Death," said the
nobleman.  "I hope he will lower the torch only once here and do honor to
age, little worthy of respect as it may be.  Don't stay too long in the
infected house, Herr Wilhelm."

The musician gently opened the door.  The servant silently greeted him
and turned towards the stairs to call Belotti; for the "player-man" had
already enquired more than once for the steward.

Wilhelm entered the little room where he usually waited, and for the
first time found another visitor there, but in a somewhat peculiar
attitude.  Father Damianus sat bolt upright in an arm-chair, with his
head drooping on one side, sound asleep.  The face of the priest, a man
approaching his fortieth year, was as pink and white as a child's, and
framed by a thin light-brown beard.  A narrow circle of thin light hair
surrounded his large tonsure, and a heavy dark rosary of olive-wood beads
hung from the sleeper's hands.  A gentle, kindly smile hovered around his
half-parted lips.

"This mild saint in long woman's robes doesn't look as if he could grasp
anything strongly" thought Wilhelm, "yet his hands are callous and have
toiled hard."

When Belotti entered the room and saw the sleeping priest, he carefully
pushed a pillow under his head and beckoned to Wilhelm to follow him into
the entry.

"We won't grudge him a little rest," said the Italian.  "He has sat
beside the padrona's bed from yesterday noon until two hours ago.
Usually she doesn't know what is going on around her, but as soon as
consciousness returns she wants religious consolation.  She still refuses
to take the sacrament for the dying, for she won't admit that she is
approaching her end.  Yet often, when the disease attacks her more
sharply, she asks in mortal terror if everything is ready, for she is
afraid to die without extreme unction."

"And how is Fraulein Henrica?"

"A very little better."

The priest had now come out of the little room.  Belotti reverently
kissed his hand and Wilhelm bowed respectfully.

"I had fallen asleep," said Damianus simply and naturally, but in a voice
less deep and powerful than would have been expected from his broad
breast and tall figure.  "I will read the mass, visit my sick, and then
return.  Have you thought better of it, Belotti?"

"It won't do sir, the Virgin knows it won't do.  My dismissal was given
for the first of May, this is the eighth, and yet I'm still here--I
haven't left the house because I'm a Christian!  Now the ladies have a
good physician, Sister Gonzaga is doing her duty, you yourself will earn
by your nursing a place among the martyrs in Paradise, so, without making
myself guilty of a sin, I can tie up my bundle."

"You will not go, Belotti," said the priest firmly.  "If you still insist
on having your own way, at least do not call yourself a Christian."

"You will stay," cried Wilhelm, "if only for the sake of the young lady,
to whom you still feel kindly."  Belotti shook his head, and answered
quietly:

"You can add nothing, young sir, to what the holy Father represented to
me yesterday.  But my mind is made up, I shall go; yet as I value the
holy Father's good opinion and yours, I beg you to do me the favor to
listen to me.  I have passed my sixty-second birthday, and an old horse
or an old servant stands a long time in the market-place before any one
will buy them.  There might probably be a place in Brussels for a
Catholic steward, who understands his business, but this old heart longs
to return to Naples--ardently, ardently, unutterably.  You have seen our
blue sea and our sky, young sir, and I yearn for them, but even more for
other, smaller things.  It now seems a joy that I can speak in my native
language to you, Herr Wilhelm, and you, holy Father.  But there is a
country where every one uses the same tongue that I do.  There is a
little village at the foot of Vesuvius--merciful Heavens!  Many a person
would be afraid to stay there, even half an hour, when the mountain
quakes, the ashes fall in showers, and the glowing lava pours out in a
stream.  The houses there are by no means so well built, and the window-
panes are not so clean as in this country.  I almost fear that there are
few glass windows in Resina, but the children don't freeze, any more than
they do here.  What would a Leyden house-keeper say to our village
streets?  Poles with vines, boughs of fig-trees, and all sorts of under-
clothing on the roofs, at the windows, and the crooked, sloping
balconies; orange and lemon-trees with golden fruit grow in the little
gardens, which have neither straight paths nor symmetrical beds.
Everything there grows together topsy-turvy.  The boys, who in rags that
no tailor has darned or mended, clamber over the white vineyard walls,
the little girls, whose mothers comb their hair before the doors of the
houses, are not so pink and white, nor so nicely washed as the Holland
children, but I should like to see again the brown-skinned, black-haired
little ones with the dark eyes, and end my days amid all the clatter in
the warm air, among my nephews, nieces and blood-relations."

As he uttered these words, the old man's features had flushed and his
black eyes sparkled with a fire, that but a short time before the
northern air and his long years of servitude seemed to have extinguished.
Since neither the priest nor the musician answered immediately, he
continued more quietly:

"Monseigneur Gloria is going to Italy now, and I can accompany him to
Rome as courier.  From thence I can easily reach Naples, and live there
on the interest of my savings free from care.  My future master will
leave on the 15th, and on the 12th I must be in Antwerp, where I am to
meet him."

The eyes of the priest and the musician met.  Wilhelm lacked courage to
seek to withhold the steward from carrying out his plan, but Damianus
summoned up his resolution, laid his hand on the old man's shoulder, and
said:

"If you wait here a few weeks more, Belotti, you will find the true rest,
the peace of a good conscience.  The crown of life is promised to those,
who are faithful, unto death.  When these sad days are over, it will be
easy to smooth the way to your home.  We shall meet again towards noon,
Belotti.  If my assistance is necessary, send for me; old Ambrosius knows
where to find me.  May God's blessing rest upon you, and if you will
accept it from me, on you also, Meister Wilhelm."

After the priest had left the house, Belotti said, sighing:

"He'll yet force me to yield to his will.  He abuses his power over
souls.  I'm no saint, and what he asks of me--"

"Is right," said Wilhelm firmly.

"But you don't know what it is to throw away, like a pair of worn-out
shoes, the dearest hope of a long, sad life.  And for whom, I ask you,
for whom?  Do you know my padrona?  Oh! sir, I have experienced in this
house things, which your youth does not dream could be possible.  The
young lady has wounded you.  Am I right or wrong?"

"You are mistaken, Belotti."

"Really?  I am glad for your sake, you are a modest artist, but the
signorina bears the Hoogstraten name, and that is saying everything.  Do
you know her father?"

"No, Belotti."

"That's a race-a race!  Have you never heard anything of the story of our
signorina's older sister?"

"Has Henrica an older sister?"

"Yes, sir, and when I think of her.--Imagine the signorina, exactly like
our signorina, only taller, more stately, more beautiful."

"Isabella!"  exclaimed the musician.  A conjecture, which had been
aroused since his conversation with Henrica, appeared to be confirmed;
he seized the steward's arm so suddenly and unexpectedly, that the latter
drew back, and continued eagerly: "What do you know of her?  I beseech
you, Belotti, tell me all."

The servant looked up the stairs, then shaking his head, answered:

"You are probably mistaken.  There has never been an Isabella in this
house to my knowledge, but I will gladly place myself at your service.
Come again after sunset, but you must expect to hear no pleasant tale."

Twilight had scarcely yielded to darkness, when the musician again
entered the Hoogstraten mansion.  The little room was empty, but Belotti
did not keep him waiting long.

The old man placed a dainty little waiter, bearing a jug of wine and a
goblet, on the table beside the lamp and, after informing Wilhelm of the
invalids' condition, courteously offered him a chair.  When the musician
asked him why he had not brought a cup for himself too, he replied:

"I drink nothing but water, but allow me to take the liberty to sit down.
The servant who attends to the chambers has left the house, and I've done
nothing but go up and down stairs all day.  It tries my old legs, and we
can expect no quiet night."

A single candle lighted the little room.  Belotti, who had leaned far
back in his chair, opened his clenched hands and slowly began:

"I spoke this morning of the Hoogstraten race.  Children of the same
parents, it is true, are often very unlike, but in your little country,
which speaks its own language and has many things peculiar to itself--you
won't deny that--every old family has its special traits.  I know, for I
have been in many a noble household in Holland.  Every race has its own
peculiar blood and ways.  Even where--by your leave--there is a crack in
the brain, it rarely happens to only one member of a family.  My mistress
has more of her French mother's nature.  But I intended to speak only of
the signorina, and am wandering too far from my subject."

"No, Belotti, certainly not, we have plenty of time, and I shall be glad
to listen to you, but first you must answer one question."

"Why, sir, how your cheeks glow!  Did you meet the signorina in Italy?"

"Perhaps so, Belotti."

"Why, of course, of course!  Whoever has once seen her, doesn't easily
forget.  What is it you wish to know?"

"First, the lady's name."

"Anna."

"And not Isabella also?"

"No, sir, she was never called anything but Anna."

"And when did she leave Holland?"

"Wait; it was--four years ago last Easter."

"Has she dark, brown or fair hair?"

"I've said already that she looked just like Fraulein Henrica.  But what
lady might not have fair, brown or dark hair?  I think we shall reach the
goal sooner, if you will let me ask a question now.  Had the lady you
mean a large semi-circular scar just under the hair, exactly in the
middle of her forehead?"

"Enough," cried Wilhelm, rising hastily.  "She fell on one of her
father's weapons when a child."

"On the contrary, sir, the handle of Junker Van Hoogstraten's weapon fell
on the forehead of his own daughter.  How horrified you look!  Oh!
I have witnessed worse things in this house.  Now it is your turn
again: In what city of my home did you meet the signorina?"

"In Rome, alone and under an assumed name.  Isabella--a Holland girl!
Pray go on with your story, Belotti; I won't interrupt you again.  What
had the child done, that her own father--"

"He is the wildest of all the wild Hoogstratens.  Perhaps you may have
seen men like him in Italy--in this country you might seek long for such
a hurricane.  You must not think him an evil-disposed man, but a word
that goes against the grain, a look askance will rob him of his senses,
and things are done which he repents as soon as they are over.  The
signorina received her scar in the same way.  She was a mere child, and
of course ought not to have touched fire-arms, nevertheless she did
whenever she could, and once a pistol went off and the bullet struck one
of the best hunting-dogs.  Her father heard the report and, when he saw
the animal lying on the ground and the pistol at the little girl's feet,
he seized it and with the sharp-edged handle struck--"

"A child, his own daughter!"  exclaimed Wilhelm indignantly.

"People are differently constituted," Belotti continued.  "Some, the
class to which you probably belong, cautiously consider before they speak
or act; the second reflect a long time and, when they are ready, pour
forth a great many words, but rarely act at all; while the third, and at
their head the Hoogstraten family, heap deeds on deeds, and if they ever
think, it is only after the act is accomplished.  If they then find that
they have committed an injustice, pride comes in and forbids them to
confess, atone for, or recall it.  So one misfortune follows another;
but the gentlemen pay no heed and find forgetfulness in drinking and
gambling, carousing and hunting.  There are plenty of debts, but all
anxiety concerning them is left to the creditors, and boys who receive no
inheritance are supplied with a place at court or in the army; for the
girls, thank God, there is no lack of convents, if they confess our holy
religion, and both have expectations from rich aunts and other blood
relations, who die without children."

"You paint in vivid colors."

But they are true, and they all suit the Junker; though to be sure he
need not keep his property for sons, since his wife gave him none.  He
met her at court in Brussels, and she came from Parma."

"Did you know her?"

"She died before I came to the padrona's house.  The two young ladies
grew up without a mother.  You have heard that their father would even
attack them, yet he doubtless loved them and would never resolve to place
them in a convent.  True, he often felt--at least he freely admitted it
in conversations with her excellenza--that there were more suitable
places for young girls than his castle, where matters went badly enough,
and so he at last sent his oldest daughter to us.  My mistress usually
could not endure the society of young girls, but Fraulein Anna was one of
her nearest relatives, and I know she invited her of her own accord.  I
can still see in memory the signorina at sixteen; a sweeter creature,
Herr Wilhelm, my eyes have never beheld before or since, and yet she
never remained the same.  I have seen her as soft as Flemish velvet, but
at other times she could rage like a November storm in your country.  She
was always beautiful as a rose and, as her mother's old cameriera--she
was a native of Lugano--had brought her up, and the priest who taught her
came from Pisa and was acknowledged to be an excellent musician, she
spoke my language like a child of Tuscany and was perfectly familiar with
music.  You have doubtless heard her singing, her harp and lute-playing,
but you should know that all the ladies of the Hoogstraten family, with
the exception of my mistress, possess a special talent for your art.  In
summer we lived in the beautiful country-house, that was torn down before
the seige by your friends--with little justice I think.  Many a stately
guest rode out to visit us.  We kept open house, and where there is a
good table and a beautiful young lady like our signorina, the gallants
are not far off.  Among them was a very aristocratic gentleman of middle
age, the Marquis d'Avennes, whom her excellenza had expressly invited.
We had never received any prince with so much attention; but this was a
matter of course, for his mother was a relative of her excellenza.  You
must know that my mistress; on her mother's side, is descended from a
family in Normandy.  The Marquis d'Avennes was certainly an elegant
cavalier, but rather dainty than manly.  He was soon madly in love with
Fraulein Anna, and asked in due form for her hand.  Her excellenza
favored the match, and the father said simply: 'You will take him!'
He would listen to no opposition.  Other gentlemen don't consult their
daughters when a suitable lover appears.  So the signorina became the
marquis's betrothed wife, but the padrona said firmly that her niece was
too young to be married.  She induced Junker Van Hoogstraten, whom she
held as firmly as a farrier holds a filly, to defer the wedding until
Easter.  The outfit was to be provided during the winter.  The condition
that he must wait six months was imposed on the marquis, and he went back
to France with the ring on his finger.  His betrothed bride did not shed
a single tear for him, and as soon as he had gone, flung the engagement
ring into the jewel-cup on her dressing-table, before the eyes of the
camariera, from whom I heard the story.  She did not venture to oppose
her father, but did not hesitate to express her opinion of the marquis to
her excellenza, and her aunt, though she had favored the Frenchman's
suit, allowed it.  Yet there had often been fierce quarrels between the
old and young lady, and if the padrona had had reason to clip the wild
falcon's wings and teach her what is fitting for noble ladies, the
signorina would have been justified in complaining of many an exaction,
by which the padrona had spoiled her pleasure in life.  I am sorry to
destroy the confidence of your youth, but whoever grows grey, with his
eyes open, will meet persons who rejoice, nay to whom it is a necessity
to injure others.  Yet it is a consolation, that no one is wicked simply
for the sake of wickedness, and I have often found--how shall I express
it?--that the worst impulses arise from the perversion, or even the
excess of the noblest virtues, whose reverse or caricature they become.
I have seen base envy proceed from beautiful ambition, contemptible
avarice from honest emulation, fierce hate from tender love.  My
mistress, when she was young, knew how to love truly and faithfully, but
she was shamefully deceived, and now rancor, not against an individual,
but against life, has taken possession of her, and her noble loyalty has
become tenacious adherence to bad wishes.  How this has happened you will
learn, if you will continue to listen.

"When winter came, I was ordered to go to Brussel, and establish the new
household in splendid style.  The ladies were to follow me.  It was four
years ago.  The Duke of Alva then lived as viceroy in Brussels, and this
nobleman held my mistress in high esteem, nay had even twice paid us the
honor of a visit.  His aristocratic officers also frequented our house,
among them Don Luis d'Avila, a nobleman of ancient family, who was one of
the duke's favorites.  Like the Marquis d'Avennes, he was no longer in
his early youth, but was  a  man of totally different  stamp; tall,
strong as if hammered from steel, a soldier of invincible strength and
skill, a most dreaded seeker of quarrels, but a man whose glowing eyes
and wonderful gift of song must have exerted a mysterious, bewitching
power over women.  Dozens of adventures, in which he was said to have
taken part, were told in the servant's hall and half of them had some
foundation of truth, as I afterwards learned by experience.  If you
suppose this heart-breaker bore any resemblance to the gay, curly-haired
minions of fortune, on whom young ladies lavish their love, you are
mistaken; Don Luis was a grave man with close-cut hair, who never wore
anything but dark clothes, and even carried a sword, whose hilt, instead
of gold and silver, consisted of blackened metal.  He resembled death
much more than blooming love.  Perhaps this very thing made him
irresistible, since we are all born for death and no suitor is so sure of
victory as he.

"The padrona had not been favorably disposed to him at first, but this
mood soon changed, and at New Year's he too was admitted to small evening
receptions of intimate friends.  He came whenever we invited him, but had
no word, no look, scarcely a greeting for our young lady.  Only when it
pleased the signorina to sing, he went near her and sharply criticised
anything in her execution that chanced to displease him.  He often sang
himself too, and then usually chose the same songs as Fraulein Anna, as
if to surpass her by his superior skill.

"So things went on till the time of the carnival.  On Shrove-Tuesday the
padrona gave a large entertainment, and when I led the servants and stood
behind the signorina and Don Luis, to whom her excellenza had long been
in the habit of assigning the seat beside her niece, I noticed that their
hands met under the table and rested in each other's clasp a long time.
My heart was so full of anxiety, that it was very hard for me to keep the
attention so necessary on that evening--and when the next morning, the
padrona summoned me to settle the accounts, I thought it my duty to
modestly remark that Don Luis d'Avila's wooing did not seem disagreeable
to the young lady in spite of her betrothal.  She let me speak, but when
I ventured to repeat what people said of the Spaniard, angrily started up
and showed me to the door.  A faithful servant often hears and sees more
than his employers suspect, and I had the confidence of the padrona's
foster-sister, who is now dead; but at that time Susanna knew everything
that concerned her mistress.

"There was a bad prospect for the expectant bridegroom in France, for
whenever the padrona spoke of him, it was with a laugh we knew, and which
boded no good; but she still wrote frequently to the marquis and his
mother, and many a letter from Rochebrun reached our house.  To be sure,
her excellenza also gave Don Luis more than one secret audience.

"During Lent a messenger from Fraulein Van Hoogstraten's father arrived
with the news, that at Easter he, himself, would come to Brussels from
Haarlem, and the marquis from Castle Rochebrun, and on Maundy Thursday
I received orders to dress the private chapel with flowers, engage
posthorses, and do several other things.  On Good Friday, the day of our
Lord's crucifixion--I wish I were telling lies--early in the morning of
Good Friday the signorina was dressed in all her bridal finery.  Don Luis
appeared clad in black, proud and gloomy as usual, and by candle-light,
before sunrise on a cold, damp morning--it seems to me as if it were only
yesterday--the Castilian was married to our young mistress.  The padrona,
a Spanish officer and I were the witnesses.  At seven o'clock the
carriage drove up, and after it was packed Don Luis handed me a little
box to put in the vehicle.  It was heavy and I knew it well; the padrona
was in the habit of keeping her gold coin in it.  At Easter the whole
city learned that Don Luis d'Avila had eloped with the beautiful Anna Van
Hoogstraten, after killing her betrothed bridegroom in a duel on Maundy-
Thursday at Hals on his way to Brussels--scarcely twenty-four hours
before the wedding.

"I shall never forget how Junker Van Hoogstraten raged.  The padrona
refused to see him and pretended to be ill, but she was as well as only
she could be during these last few years."

"And do you know how to interpret your mistress's mysterious conduct?"
asked Wilhelm.

"Yes sir; her reasons are perfectly evident.  But I must hasten, it is
growing late; besides I cannot tell you minute particulars, for I was
myself a child when the event happened, though Susanna has told me many
things that would probably be worth relating.  Her excellenza's mother
was a Chevreaux, and my mistress spent the best years of her life with
her mother's sister, who during the winter lived in Paris.  It was in the
reign of the late King Francis, and you doubtless know that this great
Prince was a very gallant gentleman, who was said to have broken as many
hearts as lances.  My padrona, who in those days was very beautiful,
belonged to the ladies of his court, and King Francis especially
distinguished her.  But the young lady knew how to guard her honor, for
she had early found in the gallant Marquis d'Avennes a knight to whom she
was loyally devoted, and for whom she had wept bitterly many a night.
Like master, like servant, and though the marquis had worn the young
lady's color for years and rendered her every service of an obedient
knight, his eyes and heart often wandered to the right and left.  Yet he
always returned to his liege-lady, and when the sixth year came, the
Chevreaux's urged the marquis to put an end to his trifling and think of
marriage.  My mistress began to make her preparations, and Susanna was a
witness of her consultation with the marquis about whether she would keep
or sell the Holland estates and castles.  But the wedding did not take
place, for the marquis was obliged to go to Italy with the army and her
excellenza lived in perpetual anxiety about him; at that time the French
fared ill in my country, and he often left her whole months without news.
At last he returned and found in the Chevreaux's house his betrothed
wife's little cousin, who had grown up into a charming young lady.

"You can imagine the rest.  The rose-bud Hortense now pleased the marquis
far better than the Holland flower of five and twenty.  The Chevreaux's
were aristocratic but deeply in debt, and the suitor, while fighting in
Italy, had inherited the whole of his uncle's great estate, so they did
not suffer him to sue in vain.  My mistress returned to Holland.  Her
father challenged the marquis, but no blood was spilled in the duel, and
Monsieur d'Avennes led a happy wedded life with Hortense de Chevreaux.
Her son was the signorina's hapless lover.  Do you understand, Herr
Wilhelm?  She had nursed and fostered the old grudge for half a life
time; for its sake she had sacrificed her own kinswoman to Don Luis, but
in return she repaid by the death of the only son of a hated mother, the
sorrow she had suffered for years on her account."

The musician had clenched the handkerchief, with which he had wiped the
perspiration from his brow, closely in his hand, and asked:

"What more have you heard of Anna?"

"Very little," replied Belotti.  "Her father has torn her from his heart,
and calls Henrica his only daughter.  Happiness abandons those who are
burdened by a father's curse, and she certainly did not find it.  Don
Luis is said to have been degraded to the rank of ensign on account of
some wild escapades, and who knows what has become of the poor, beautiful
signorina.  The padrona sometimes sent money to her in Italy, by way of
Florence, through Signor Lamperi--but I have heard nothing of her during
the last few months."

"One more question, Belotti," said Wilhelm, "how could Henrica's father
trust her to your mistress, after what had befallen his older daughter in
her house?"

"Money--miserable money!  To keep his castle and not lose his
inheritance, he resigned his child.  Yes, sir, the signorina was
bargained for, like a horse, and her father didn't sell her cheap.
Drink some wine, sir, you look ill."

"It is nothing serious," said Wilhelm, "but the fresh air will probably
do me good.  Thanks for your story, Belotti."




ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

Art ceases when ugliness begins
Debts, but all anxiety concerning them is left to the creditors
Despair and extravagant gayety ruled her nature by turns
Repos ailleurs
The best enjoyment in creating is had in anticipation
To whom the emotion of sorrow affords a mournful pleasure






THE BURGOMASTER'S WIFE

By Georg Ebers

Volume 3.


CHAPTER XIII.

On the afternoon of the sixteenth of May, Burgomaster Van der Werff's
wife was examining chests and boxes.  Her husband was at the town-hall,
but had told her that towards evening, the Prince's commissioner, Herr
Dietrich Van Bronkhorst, the two Seigneurs von Nordwyk, the city clerk
Van Hout, and several other heads of municipal affairs and friends of
freedom would meet at his house for a confidential consultation.  Maria
had the charge of providing the gentlemen with a nice collation, wine,
and many similar cares.

This invitation had a very cheering influence on the young wife.  It
pleased her to be able to play the hostess, according to the meaning of
the word in her parents' house.  How long she had been debarred from
hearing any grave, earnest conversation.  True, there had been no lack of
visitors: the friends and relatives of her husband's family, who called
upon her and talked with Barbara, often begged her to come to their
houses; among them were many who showed themselves kindly disposed and
could not help respecting her worth, but not one to whom she was
attracted by any warm affection.  Maria, whose life was certainly not
crowded with amusements, dreaded their coming, and when they did call,
endured their presence as an unavoidable evil.  The worthy matrons were
all much older than herself and, while sitting over their cakes, stewed
fruit, and hippocras, knitting, spinning or netting, talked of the hard
times during the siege, of the cares of children and servants, washing
and soap-making, or subjected to a rigid scrutiny the numerous
incomprehensible and reprehensible acts other women were said to have
committed, to be committing, or to desire to commit, until Maria's heart
grew heavy and her lonely room seemed to her a peaceful asylum.

She could find words only when the conversation turned upon the misery of
the country and the sacred duty of bearing every privation a second time,
if necessary for the freedom of the nation, and then she gladly listened
to the sturdy women, who evidently meant what they said; but when the
hours were filled with idle gossip, it caused her actual pain.  Yet she
dared not avoid it and was obliged to wait until the departure of the
last acquaintance; for after she had ventured to retire early several
times, Barbara kindly warned her against it, not concealing that she had
had great difficulty in defending her against the reproach of pride and
incivility.

"Such chat," said the widow, "is pleasant and strengthens the courage,
and whoever leaves the visitors while they are together, can pray the
Lord for a favorable report."

One lady in Leyden pleased the burgomaster's wife.  This was the wife of
Herr Van Hout, the city clerk, but the latter rarely appeared in company,
for though a delicate, aristocratic-looking woman, she was obliged to be
busy from morning till night, to keep the children and household in good
order on a narrow income.

Maria felt brighter and happier than she had done for many days, as she
stood before the shelf that contained the table-furniture and the
cupboard where the silver was kept.  All the handsome dishes belonging to
the house were bright and shining, free from every grain of dust, so too
were the white linen cloths, trimmed with lace.  She selected what she
needed, but many of the pewter, glass, and silver articles did not please
her; for they did not match, and she found scratches and cracks on
numerous pieces.

When her mother had begun to prepare her wedding-outfit, Peter expressed
a desire that in these hard times the money should be kept and no useless
things purchased.  There was an abundance of household articles of every
kind in his home, and he would have thought it wrong to buy even a plate.
In fact there was no lack of anything on the shelves and cupboards, but
she had not selected and bought them herself; they belonged to her, but
not entirely, and what was worse, her eyes, accustomed to prettier
things, could find no pleasure in these dull, scratched pewter plates,
these pitchers, cups and tankards painted in coarse figures with glaring
colors.  The clumsy glass, too, did not suit her taste, and, while
looking it over and selecting what was necessary, she could not help
thinking of her recently-wedded friends, who, with sparkling eyes, had
showed her their spick-and-span new table-furniture as proudly and
happily, as if each piece had been their own work.  But, even with the
articles she possessed, a table could be set very prettily and daintily.

She had gone out with Adrian before dinner to cut some flowers in the
garden by the city wall, and also gathered some delicate grasses in the
meadow before the gate.  These gifts of May were now tastefully arranged,
mixed with peacock-feathers, and placed in vases, and she was delighted
to see even the clumsiest dishes win a graceful aspect from the garlands
she twined around them.  Adrian watched her in astonishment.  He would
not have marvelled if, under her hands, the dark dining-room had been
transformed into a hall of mother-of-pearl and crystal.

When the table was laid, Peter returned home for a moment.  He was going
to ride out to Valkenburg with Captain Allertssohn, Janus Dousa, and
other gentlemen, to inspect the fortifications before his guests
appeared.  As he passed through the dining-room, he waved his hand
to his wife and glancing over the table, said:

"This decoration was not necessary, least of all the flowers.  We expect
to hold a serious consultation, and you have arranged a wedding-banquet."

Perceiving that Maria cast down her eyes, he exclaimed kindly:

"But it can remain so for aught I care," and left the room.

Maria stood irresolutely before her work.  Bitter emotions were again