Georg paused, and deeply moved, passed his hand over his eyes.

"Your father!"  cried Barbara, in a tone of cordial sympathy, breaking
the silence.  "If we can judge the tree by the apple, he was surely a
splendid man."

The Junker again raised his head, exclaiming with sparkling eyes:

"Unite every good and noble quality, and embody them in the form of a
tall, handsome man, then you will have the image of my father;--and I
might tell you of my mother--"

"Is she still alive?" asked Peter.

"God grant it!" exclaimed the young man.  "I have heard nothing from my
family for two months.  That is hard.  Pleasures smile along every path,
and I like my profession of soldier, but it often grieves me sorely to
hear so little from home.  Oh! if one were only a bird, a sunbeam, or a
shooting-star, one might, if only for the twinkling of an eye, learn how
matters go at home and fill the soul with fresh gratitude, or, if it must
be--but I will not think of that.  In the valley of the Saale, the trees
are blossoming and a thousand flowers deck all the meadows, just as they
do here, and did there two years ago, when I left home for the second
time.

"After my father's death I was the heir, but neither hunting nor riding
to court, neither singing nor the clinking of beakers could please me.
I went about like a sleep-walker, and it seemed as if I had no right to
live without my father.  Then--it is now just two years ago--a messenger
brought from Weimar a letter which had come from Italy with several
others, addressed to our most gracious sovereign; it contained the news
that our lost brother was still alive, lying sick and wretched in the
hospital at Bergamo.  A kind nun had written for him, and we now learned
that on the journey from Valencia to Livorno Louis had been captured by
corsairs and dragged to Tunis.  How much suffering he endured there, with
what danger he at last succeeded in obtaining his liberty, you shall
learn later.  He escaped to Italy on a Genoese galley.  His feet carried
him as far as Bergamo, but he could go no farther, and now lay ill,
perhaps dying, among sympathizing strangers.  I set out at once and did
not spare horseflesh on the way to Bergamo, but though there were many
strange and beautiful things to be seen on my way, they afforded me
little pleasure, the thought of Louis, so dangerously ill, saddened my
joyous spirits.  Every running brook urged me to hasten, and the lofty
mountains seemed like jealous barriers.  When once beyond St. Gotthard I
felt less anxious, and as I rode down from Bellinzona to Lake Lugano, and
the sparkling surface of the water beyond the city smiled at me like a
blue eye, forgot my grief for a time, waved my hat, and sung a song.  In
Bergamo I found my brother, alive, but enfeebled in mind and body, weak,
and without any desire to take up the burden of life again.  He had been
in good hands, and after a few weeks we were able to travel homeward--
this time I went through beautiful Tyrol.  Louis's strength daily
increased, but the wings of his soul had been paralyzed by suffering.
Alas, for long years he had dug and carried heavy loads, with chains on
his feet, beneath a broiling sun.  Chevalier von Brand could not long
endure this hard fate, but Louis, while in Tunis, forgot both how to
laugh and weep, and which of the two can be most easily spared?

"Even when he saw my mother again, he could not shed a tear, yet his
whole body--and surely his heart also--trembled with emotion.  Now he
lives quietly at the castle.  In the prime of manhood he is an old man,
but he is beginning to accommodate himself to life, only he can't bear
the sight of a strange face.  I had a hard battle with him, for as the
eldest son, the castle and estate, according to the law, belong to him,
but he wanted to resign his rights and put me in his place.  Even when
he had brought my mother over to his side, and my uncle and brothers and
sisters tried to persuade me to yield to his wish, I remained resolute.
I would not touch what did not belong to me, and our youngest boy,
Wolfgang, has grown up, and can fill my place wherever it is necessary.
When the entreaties and persuasions became too strong for me, I saddled
my horse and went away again.  It was hard for my mother to let me go,
but I had tasted the delight of travelling, and rode off as if to a
wedding.  If I must be perfectly frank, I'll confess that I resigned
castle and estates like a troublesome restraint.  Free as the wind and
clouds, I followed the same road over which I had ridden with Leonhard,
for in your country a war after my own heart was going on, and my future
fortune was to be based upon my sword.  In Cologne I enlisted under the
banner of Louis of Nassau, and fought with him at Mook Heath till every
one retreated.  My horse had fallen, my doublet was torn, there was
little left save good spirits and the hope of better days.  These were
soon found, for Captain Gensfort asked me to join the English troops.  I
became his ensign, and at Alfen held out beside him till the last grain
of powder was exhausted.  What happened there, you know."

"And Captain Van der Laen told us," said Peter, "that he owes his life to
you.  You fought like a lion."

"It was wild work enough at the fortifications, yet neither I nor my
horse had a hair ruffled, and this time I even saved my knapsack and a
full purse.  Fate, like mothers, loves troublesome children best, and
therefore led me to you and your family, Herr Burgomaster."

"And I beg you to consider yourself one of them," replied Peter.  "We
have two pleasant rooms looking out upon the court-yard; they shall be
put in order for you, if you would like to occupy them."

"With pleasure," replied the Junker, and Peter, offering him his hand,
said:

"The duties of my office call me away, but you can tell the ladies what
you need, and when you mean to move in.  The sooner, the better we shall
be pleased.  Shall we not, Maria?"

"You will be welcome, Junker Georg.  Now I must look after the invalid we
are nursing here.  Barbara will ascertain your wishes."

The young wife took her husband's hand and left the room with him.

The widow was left alone with the young nobleman and tried to learn
everything he desired.  Then she followed her sister-in-law, and finding
her in Henrica's room, clapped her hands, exclaiming:

"That is a man!  Fraulein,  I  assure you that, though I'm an old woman,
I never met so fine a young fellow in all my life.  So much heart, and so
handsome too!  'To whom fortune gives once, it gives by bushels, and unto
him that hath, shall be given!'  Those are precious words!"




CHAPTER XXIV.

Peter had promised Henrica, to request the council to give her permission
to leave the city.

It was hard for her to part from the burgomaster's household.  Maria's
frank nature exerted a beneficial influence; it seemed as if her respect
for her own sex increased in her society.  The day before she had heard
her sing.  The young wife's voice was like her character.  Every note
flawless and clear as a bell, and Henrica grieved that she should be
forbidden to mingle her own voice with her hostess's.  She was very sorry
to leave the children too.  Yet she was obliged to go, on Anna's account,
for her father could not be persuaded by letters to do anything.  Had she
appealed to him in writing to forgive his rejected child, he would hardly
have read the epistle to the end.  Something might more easily be won
from him through words, by taking advantage of a favorable moment.  She
must have speech with him, yet she dreaded the life in his castle,
especially as she was forced to acknowledge, that she too was by no means
necessary to her father.  To secure the inheritance, he had sent her to a
terrible existence with her aunt; while she lay dangerously ill, he had
gone to a tournament, and the letter received from him the day before,
contained nothing but the information that he was refused admittance to
the city, and a summons for her to go to Junker de Heuter's house at the
Hague.  Enclosed was a pass from Valdez, enjoining all King Philip's
soldiers to provide for her safety.

The burgomaster had intended to have her conveyed in a litter,
accompanied by a flag of truce, as far as the Spanish lines, and the
doctor no longer opposed her wish to travel.  She hoped to leave that
day.

Lost in thought, she stationed herself in the baywindow and gazed out
into the court-yard.  Several windows in the building on the eastern side
stood open.  Trautchen must have risen early, for she came out of the
rooms arranged for Georg's occupation, followed by a young assistant
carrying various scrubbing utensils.  Next Jan appeared with a large arm-
chair on his head.  Bessie ran after the Frieselander, calling:

"Aunt Barbel's grandfather's chair; where will she take her afternoon
nap?"

Henrica had heard the words, and thought first of good old "Babetta," who
could also feel tenderly, then of Maria and the man who was to lodge in
the rooms opposite.  Were there not some loose threads still remaining of
the old tie, that had united the burgomaster's wife to the handsome
nobleman?  A feeling of dread overpowered her.  Poor Meister Peter, poor
Maria!

Was it right to abandon the young wife, who had held out a saving hand
in her distress?  Yet how much nearer was her own sister than this
stranger!  Each day that she allowed herself to linger in this peaceful
asylum, seemed like a theft from Anna--since she had read in a letter
from her to her husband, the only one the dead man's pouch contained,
that she was ill and sunk in poverty with her child.

Help was needed here, and no one save herself could offer it.

With aid from Barbara and Maria, she packed her clothes.  At noon
everything was ready for her departure, and she would not be withheld
from eating in the dining-room with the family.  Peter was prevented from
coming to dinner, Henrica took his seat and, under the mask of loud,
forced mirth, concealed the grief and anxieties that filled her heart.
At twilight Maria and the children followed her into her room, and she
now had the harp brought and sang.  At first her voice failed to reach
many a note, but as the snow falling from the mountain peaks to the
plains at first slides slowly, then rapidly increases in bulk and power,
her tones gradually gained fulness and irresistible might and, when at
last she rested the harp against the wall and walked to the chair
exhausted, Maria clasped her hand and said with deep emotion:

"Stay with us, Henrica."

"I ought not," replied the girl.

"You are enough for each other.  Shall I take you with me, children?"
Adrian lowered his eyes in embarrassment, but Bessie jumped into her lap,
exclaiming.

"Where are you going?  Stay with us."

Just at that moment some one knocked at the door, and Peter entered.
It was evident that he brought no good tidings.  His request had been
refused.  The council had almost unanimously voted an assent to Van
Bronkhorst's proposition, that the young lady, as a relation of prominent
friends of Spain among the Netherland nobility, should be kept in the
city.  Peter's representations were unheeded; he now frankly told Henrica
what a conflict he had had, and entreated her to have patience and be
content to remain in his house as a welcome guest.

The young girl interrupted him with many a passionate exclamation of
indignation, and when she grew calmer, cried:

"Oh, you men, you men!  I would gladly stay with you, but you know from
what this base deed of violence detains me.  And then: to be a prisoner,
to live weeks, months, without mass and without confession.  Yet first
and last-merciful Heavens, what will become of my unfortunate sister?"

Maria gazed beseechingly at Peter, and the latter said:

"If you desire the consolations of your religion, I will send Father
Damianus to you, and you can hear mass with the Grey Sisters, who live
beside us, as often as you desire.  We are not fighting against your
religion, but for the free exercise of every faith, and the whole city
stands open to you.  My wife will help you bear your anxiety about your
sister far better than I could do, but let me say this: wherever and
however I can help you, it shall be done, and not merely in words."

So saying, he held out his hand to Henrica.  She gave him hers,
exclaiming:

"I have cause to thank you, I know, but please leave me now and give me
time to think until tomorrow."

"Is there no way of changing the decision of the council?"  Maria asked
her husband.

"No, certainly not."

"Well, then," said the young wife earnestly, "you must remain our guest.
Anxiety for your sister does not cloud your pleasure alone, but saddens
me too.  Let us first of all provide for her.  How are the roads to
Delft?"

"They are cut, and no one will be able to pass after to-morrow or the day
after."

"Then calm yourself, Henrica, and let us consider what is to be done."

The questions and counter-questions began, and Henrica gazed in
astonishment at the delicate young wife, for with unerring resolution and
keenness, she held the first voice in the consultation.  The surest means
of gaining information was to seek that very day a reliable messenger,
by whom to send Anna d'Avila money, and if possible bring her to Holland.
The burgomaster declared himself ready to advance from his own property,
a portion of the legacy bequeathed Henrica's sister by Fraulein Van
Hoogstraten, and accepted his guest's thanks without constraint.

"But whom could they send?"

Henrica thought of Wilhelm; he was her sister's friend.

"But he is in the military service," replied the burgomaster.  "I know
him.  He will not desert the city in these times of trouble, not even for
his mother."

"But I know the right messenger," said Maria.  "We'll send Junker Georg."

"That's a good suggestion," said Peter.  "We shall find him in his
lodgings.  I must go to Van Hout, who lives close by, and will send the
German to you.  But my time is limited, and with such gentlemen, fair
women can accomplish more than bearded men.  Farewell, dear Fraulein,
once more--we rejoice to have you for our guest."

When the burgomaster had left the room, Henrica said:

"How quickly, and how differently from what I expected, all this has
happened.  I love you.  I am under obligations to you, but to be
imprisoned, imprisoned.  The walls will press upon me, the ceiling will
seem like a weight.  I don't know whether I ought to rejoice or despair.
You have great influence with the Junker.  Tell him about Anna, touch his
heart, and if he would go, it would really be best for us both."

"You mean for you and your sister," replied Maria with a repellent
gesture of the hand.  "There is the lamp.  When the Junker comes, we
shall see each other again."

Maria went to her room and threw herself on the couch, but soon rose and
paced restlessly to and fro.  Then stretching out her clasped hands, she
exclaimed:

"Oh, if he would only go, if he would only go!  Merciful God!  Kind,
gracious Father in Heaven, grant him every happiness, every blessing, but
save my peace of mind; let him go, and lead him far, far away from here."




CHAPTER XXV.

The tavern where Georg von Dornburg lodged stood on the "broad street,"
and was a fine building with a large court-yard, in which were numerous
vehicles.  On the left of the entrance was a large open room entered
through a lofty archway.  Here the drivers and other folk sat over their
beer and wine, suffering the innkeeper's hens to fly on the benches and
even sometimes on the table, here vegetables were cleaned, boiled and
fried, here the stout landlady was frequently obliged to call her sturdy
maid and men servants to her aid, when her guests came to actual
fighting, or some one drank more than was good for him.  Here the new
custom of tobacco-smoking was practised, though only by a few sailors who
had served on Spanish ships--but Frau Van Aken could not endure the acrid
smoke and opened the windows, which were filled with blooming pinks,
slender stalks of balsam, and cages containing bright-plumaged
goldfinches.  On the side opposite to the entrance were two closed rooms.
Above the door of one, neatly carved in wood, were the lines from Horace:

"Ille terrarum mihi praeter omnes.
Angulus ridet."

[Of all the corners of the world,
There is none that so charms me.]

Only a few chosen guests found admittance into this long, narrow
apartment.  It was completely wainscoted with wood, and from the centre
of the richly-carved ceiling a strange picture gleamed in brilliant hues.
This represented the landlord.  The worthy man with the smooth face,
firmly-closed lips, and long nose, which offered an excellent straight
line to its owner's burin, sat on a throne in the costume of a Roman
general, while Vulcan and Bacchus, Minerva and Poinona, offered him
gifts.  Klaus Van Aken, or as he preferred to be called, Nicolaus
Aquanus, was a singular man, who had received good gifts from more than
one of the Olympians; for besides his business he zealously devoted
himself to science and several of the arts.  He was an excellent silver-
smith, a die-cutter and engraver of great skill, had a remarkable
knowledge of coins, was an industrious student and collector of
antiquities.  His little tap-room was also a museum; for on the shelves,
that surrounded it, stood rare objects of every description, in rich
abundance and regular order; old jugs and tankards, large and small
coins, gems in carefully-sealed glass-cases, antique lamps of clay and
bronze, stones with ancient Roman inscriptions, Roman and Greek terra-
cotta, polished fragments of marble which he had found in Italy among the
ruins, the head of a faun, an arm, a foot and other bits of Pagan works
of art, a beautifully-enamelled casket of Byzantine work, and another
with enamelled ornamentation from Limoges.  Even half a Roman coat of
mail and a bit of mosaic from a Roman bath were to be seen here.  Amid
these antiquities, stood beautiful Venetian glasses, pine-cones and
ostrich-eggs.  Such another tap-room could scarcely be found in Holland,
and even the liquor, which a neatly-dressed maid poured for the guests
from oddly-shaped tankards into exquisitely-wrought goblets, was
exceptionally fine.  In this room Herr Aquanus himself was in the habit
of appearing among his guests; in the other, opposite to the entrance,
his wife held sway.

On this day, the "Angulus," as the beautiful taproom was called, was but
thinly occupied, for the sun had just set, though the lamps were already
lighted.  These rested in three-branched iron chandeliers, every portion
of which, from the slender central shaft to the intricately-carved and
twisted ornaments, had been carefully wrought by Aquanus with his own
hand.

Several elderly gentlemen were at one table enjoying their wine, while at
another were Captain Van der Laen, a brave Hollander, who was receiving
English pay and had come to the city with the other defenders of Alfen,
the Musician Wilhelm, Junker Georg, and the landlord.

"It's a pleasure to meet people like you, Junker," said Aquanus.  "You've
travelled with your eyes open, and what you tell me about Brescia excites
my curiosity.  I Should have liked to see the inscription."

"I'll get it for you," replied the young man; "for if the Spaniards don't
send me into another world, I shall certainly cross the Alps again.  Did
you find any of these Roman antiquities in your own country?"

"Yes.  At the Roomburg Canal, perhaps the site of the old Praetorium, and
at Katwyk.  The forum Hadriani was probably located near Voorburg.  The
coat of mail, I showed you, came from there."

"An old, green, half-corroded thing," cried Georg.  And yet!  What
memories the sight of it awakens!  Did not some Roman armorer forge it
for the wandering emperor?  When I look at this coat of mail, Rome and
her legions appear before my eyes.  Who would not, like you, Herr
Wilhelna, go to the Tiber to increase the short span of the present by
the long centuries of the past!"

"I should be glad to go to Italy once more with you," replied Wilhelm.

"And I with you."

"Let us first secure our liberty," said the musician.  "When that is
accomplished, each individual will belong to himself, and then: why
should I conceal it, nothing will keep me in Leyden."

"And the organ?  Your father?"  asked Aquanus.

"My brothers will remain here, snug in their own nest," answered Wilhelm.
"But something urges, impels me--"

"There are still waters and rivers on earth," interrupted Georg, "and in
the sky the fixed stars remain quiet and the planets cannot cease from
wandering.  So among human beings, there are contented persons, who like
their own places, and birds of passage like us.  To be sure, you needn't
go to Italy to hear fine singing.  I just heard a voice, a voice--"

"Where?  You make me eager."

"In the court-yard of Herr Van der Werff's house."

"That was his wife."

"Oh, no!  Her voice sounds differently."

During this conversation, Captain Van der Laen had risen and examined the
landlord's singular treasures.  He was now standing before a board, on
which the head of an ox was sketched in charcoal, freely, boldly and with
perfect fidelity to nature.

"What magnificent piece of beef is this?"  he asked the landlord.

"No less a personage than Frank Floris sketched it," replied Aquanus.
"He once came here from Brussels and called on Meister Artjen.  The old
man had gone out, so Floris took a bit of charcoal and drew these lines
with it.  When Artjen came home and found the ox's head, he stood before
it a long time and finally exclaimed: 'Frank Floris, or the devil!'  This
story--But there comes the burgomaster.  Welcome, Meister Peter.  A rare
honor."

All the guests rose and respectfully greated Van der Werff; Georg started
up to offer him his chair.  Peter sat down for a short time and drank a
glass of wine, but soon beckoned to the Junker and went out with him into
the street.

There he briefly requested him to go to his house, for they had an
important communication to make, and then went to Van Hout's residence,
which was close beside the inn.

Georg walked thoughtfully towards the burgomaster's.

The "they" could scarcely have referred to any one except Maria.  What
could she want of him at so late an hour?  Had his friend regretted
having offered him lodgings in her own house?  He was to move into his
new quarters early next morning; perhaps she wished to inform him of this
change of mind, before it was too late.  Maria treated him differently
from before, there was no doubt of that, but surely this was natural!
He had dreamed of a different, far different meeting!  He had come to
Holland to support the good cause of Orange, yet he would certainly have
turned his steed towards his beloved Italy, where a good sword was always
in demand, instead of to the north, had he not hoped to find in Holland
her, whom he had never forgotten, for whom he had never ceased to long--
Now she was the wife of another, a man who had shown him kindness, given
him his confidence.  To tear his love from his heart was impossible; but
he owed it to her husband and his own honor to be strong, to resolutely
repress every thought of possessing her, and only rejoice in seeing her;
and this he must try to accomplish.

He had told himself all these things more than once, but realized that he
was walking with unsteady steps, upon a narrow pathway, when she met him
outside the dining-room and he felt how cold and tremulous was the hand
she laid in his.

Maria led the way, and he silently followed her into Henrica's room.  The
latter greeted him with a friendly gesture, but both ladies hesitated to
utter the first word.  The young man turned hastily, noticed that he was
in the room overlooking the court-yard, and said, eagerly: I was down
below just before twilight, to look at my new quarters, and heard singing
from this room, and such singing!  At first I didn't know what was
coming, for the tones were husky, weak, and broken, but afterwards--
afterwards the melody burst forth like a stream of lava through the
ashes.  We ought to wish many sorrows to one, who can lament thus."

"You shall make the singer's acquaintance," said Maria, motioning towards
the young girl.  "Fraulein Henrica Van Hoogstraten, a beloved guest in
our house."

"Were you the songstress?"  asked Georg.

"Does that surprise you?"  replied Henrica.  "My voice has certainly
retained its strength better than my body, wasted by long continued
suffering.  I feel how deeply my eyes are sunken and how pale I must be.
Singing certainly lightens pain, and I have been deprived of the
comforter long enough.  Not a note has passed my lips for weeks, and
now my heart aches so, that I would far rather weep than sing.  'What
troubles me?' you will ask, and yet Maria gives me courage to request
a chivalrous service, almost without parallel, at your hands."

"Speak, speak," Georg eagerly exclaimed.  "If Frau Maria summons me and
I can serve you, dear lady: here I am, dispose of me."

Henrica did not avoid his frank glance, as she replied:

"First hear what a great service we ask of you.  You must prepare
yourself to hear a short story.  I am still weak and have put my strength
to a severe test to-day, Maria must speak for me."

The young wife fulfilled this task quietly and clearly, closing with the
words:

"The messenger we need, I have found myself.  You must be he, Junker
Georg."

Henrica had not interrupted the burgomaster's wife; but now said warmly

"I have only made your acquaintance to-day, but I trust you entirely.
A few hours ago, black would have been my color, but if you will be my
knight, I'll choose cheerful green, for I now begin to hope again.  Will
you venture to take the ride for me?"

Hitherto Georg had gazed silently at the floor.  Now he raised his head,
saying:

"If I can obtain leave of absence, I will place myself at your disposal;
--but my lady's color is blue, and I am permitted to wear no other."

Henrica's lips quivered slightly, but the young nobleman continued:

"Captain Van der Laen is my superior officer.  I'll speak to him at
once."

"And if he says no?" asked Maria.

Henrica interrupted her and answered haughtily: "Then I beg you to send
me Herr Wilhelm, the musician."

Georg bowed and went to the tavern.

As soon as the ladies were alone, the young girl asked:

"Do you know Herr von Dornburg's lady?"

"How should I?"  replied Maria.  "Give yourself a little rest, Fraulein.
As soon as the Junker comes back, I'll bring him to you."

The young wife left the room and seated herself at the spinning-wheel
with Barbara.  Georg kept them waiting a long time, but at midnight again
appeared, accompanied by two companions.  It was not within the limits of
the captain's authority to grant him a leave of absence for several
weeks--the journey to Italy would have required that length of time--but
the Junker had consulted the musician, and the latter had found the right
man, with whom Wilhelm speedily made the necessary arrangements, and
brought him without delay: it was the old steward, Belotti.




CHAPTER XXVI.

On the morning of the following day the spacious shooting-grounds,
situated not far from the White Gate, between the Rapenburg and the city-
wall, presented a busy scene, for by a decree of the council the citizens
and inhabitants, without exception, no matter whether they were poor or
rich, of noble or plebeian birth, were to take a solemn oath to be loyal
to the Prince and the good cause.

Commissioner Van Bronkhorst, Burgomaster Van der Werff, and two other
magistrates, clad in festal attire, stood under a group of beautiful
linden-trees to receive the oaths of the men and youths, who flocked to
the spot.  The solemn ceremonial had not yet commenced.  Janus Dousa, in
full uniform, a coat of mail over his doublet and a helmet on his head,
arm-in-arm with Van Hout, approached Meister Peter and the commissioner,
saying: "Here it is again!  Not one of the humbler citizens and workmen
is absent, but the gentlemen in velvet and fur are but thinly
represented."

"They shall come yet!"  cried the city clerk menacingly.

"What will formal vows avail?"  replied the burgomaster.  "Whoever
desires liberty, must grant it.  Besides, this hour will teach us on whom
we can depend."

"Not a single man of the militia is absent," said the commissioner.

"There is comfort in that.  What is stirring yonder in the linden?"

The men looked up and perceived Adrian, who was swaying in the top of the
tree, as a concealed listener.  "The boy must be everywhere," exclaimed
Peter.  "Come down, saucy lad.  You appear at a convenient time."

The boy clung to a limb with his hands, let himself drop to the ground
and stood before his father with a penitent face, which he knew how to
assume when occasion required.  The burgomaster uttered no further words
of reproof, but bade him go home and tell his mother, that he saw no
possibility of getting Belotti through the Spanish lines in safety, and
also that Father Damianus had promised to call on the young lady in the
course of the day.

"Hurry, Adrian, and you, constables, keep all unbidden persons away from
these trees, for any place where an oath is taken becomes sacred ground--
The clergymen have seated themselves yonder near the target.  They have
the precedence.  Have the kindness to summon them, Herr Van Hout.
Dominie Verstroot wishes to make an address, and then I would like to
utter a few words of admonition to the citizens myself."

Van Hout withdrew, but before he had reached the preachers Junker von
Warmond appeared, and reported that a messenger, a handsome young lad,
had come as an envoy.  He was standing before the White Gate and had a
letter.

"From Valdez?"

"I don't know; but the young fellow is a Hollander and his face is
familiar to me."

"Conduct him here; but don't interrupt us until the ceremony of taking
the oath is over.  The messenger can tell Valdez what he has seen and
heard here.  It will do the Castilian good, to know in advance what we
intend."

The Junker withdrew, and when he returned with Nicolas Van Wibisma, who
was the messenger, Dominie Verstroot had finished his stirring speech.
Van der Werff was still speaking.  The sacred fire of enthusiasm sparkled
in his eyes, and though the few words he addressed to his fellow-
combatants in the deepest chest tones of his powerful voice were plain
and unadorned, they found their way to the souls of his auditors.

Nicolas also followed the speech with a throbbing heart; it seemed as if
the tall, earnest man under the linden were speaking directly to him and
to him alone, when at the close he raised his voice once more and
exclaimed enthusiastically:

"And now let what will, come!  A brave man from your midst has said
to-day: 'We will not yield, so long as an arm is left on our bodies, to
raise food to our lips and wield a sword!' If we all think thus, twenty
Spanish armies will find their graves before these walls.  On Leyden
depends the liberty of Holland.  If we waver and fall, to escape the
misery that only threatens us to-day, but will pitilessly oppress and
torture us later, our children will say: 'The men of Leyden were blind
cowards; it is their fault, that the name of Hollander is held in no
higher esteem, than that of a useless slave.'  But if we faithfully hold
out and resist the gloomy foreigner to the last man and the last mouthful
of bread, they will remember us with tears and joyfully exclaim: 'We owe
it to them, that our noble, industrious, happy people is permitted to
place itself proudly beside the other nations, and need no longer
tolerate the miserable cuckoo in its own nest.  Let whoever loves honor,
whoever is no degenerate wretch, that betrays his parents' house, whoever
would rather be a free man than a slave, ere raising his hand before God
to take the oath, exclaim with me: 'Long live our shield, Orange, and a
free Holland!'"

"They shall live!"  shouted hundreds of powerful voices, five, ten,
twenty times.  The gunner discharged the cannon planted near the target,
drums beat, one flourish of trumpets after another filled the air, the
ringing of bells from all the towers of the city echoed over the heads of
the enthusiastic crowd, and the cheering continued until the commissioner
waved his hand and the swearing fealty began.

The guilds and the armed defenders of the city pressed forward in bands
under the linden.  Now impetuously, now with dignified calmness, now with
devout exaltation, hands were raised to take the oath, and whoever
clasped hands did so with fervent warmth.  Two hours elapsed before all
had sworn loyalty, and many a group that had passed under the linden
together, warmly grasped each other's hands on the grounds in pledge of a
second silent vow.

Nicolas Van Wibisma sat silently, with his letter in his lap, beside a
target opposite the spot where the oath was taken, but sorrowful, bitter
emotions were seething in his breast.  How gladly he would have wept
aloud and torn his father's letter!  How gladly, when he saw the
venerable Herr Van Montfort come hand in hand with the grey-haired Van
der Does to be sworn, he would have rushed to their side to take the
oath, and call to the earnest man beneath the linden:

"I am no  degenerate wretch, who betrays his parents' house; I desire to
be no slave, no Spaniard; I am a Netherlander, like yourself."

But he did not go, did not speak, he remained sitting motionless till the
ceremony was over and Junker von Warmond conducted him under the linden.
Van Hout and both the Van der Does had joined the magistrates who had
administered the oath.  Bowing silently, Nicolas delivered his father's
letter to the burgomaster.