Van der Werff broke the seal, and after reading it, handed it to the
other gentlemen, then turning to Nicolas, said:

"Wait here, Junker.  Your father counsels us to yield the city to the
Spaniards, and promises a pardon from the King.  You cannot doubt the
answer, after what you have heard in this place."

"There is but one," cried Van Hout, in the midst of reading the letter.
"Tear the thing up and make no reply."

"Ride home, in God's name," added Janus Dousa.  "But wait, I'll give you
something more for Valdez."

"Then you will vouchsafe no reply to my father's letter?"  asked Nicolas.

"No, Junker.  We wish to hold no intercourse with Baron Matanesse,"
replied the commissioner.  "As for you, you can return home or wait here;
just as you choose."

"Go to your cousin, Junker," said Janus Dousa kindly; "it will probably
be an hour before I can find paper, pen and sealing wax.  Fraulein Van
Hoogstraten will be glad to hear, through you, from her father."

"If agreeable to you, young sir," added the burgomaster; "my house stands
open to you."

Nicolas hesitated a moment, then said quickly: "Yes, take me to her."

When the youth had reached the north end of the city with Herr von
Warmond, who had undertaken to accompany him, he asked the latter:

"Are you Junker Van Duivenvoorde, Herr von Warmond?"

"I am."

"And you captured Brill, with the Beggars, from the Spaniards?"

"I had that good fortune."

"And yet, you are of a good old family.  And were there not other
noblemen with the Beggars also?"

"Certainly.  Do you suppose it ill-beseems us, to have a heart for our
ancestors' home?  My forefathers, as well as yours, were noble before a
Spaniard ever entered the land."

But King Philip rules us as the lawful sovereign."

"Unhappily.  And therefore we obey his Stadtholder, the Prince, who
reigns in his name.  The perjured hangman needs a guardian.  Ask on; I'll
answer willingly."

Nicolas did not heed the request, but walked silently beside his
companion until they reached the Achtergracht.  There he stood still,
seized the captain's arm in great excitement, and said hastily in low,
broken sentences:

"It weighs on my heart.  I must tell some one.  I want to be Dutch.
I hate the Castilians.  I have learned to know them in Leyderdorp and
at the Hague.  They don't heed me, because I am young, and they are not
aware that I understand their language.  So my eyes were opened.  When
they speak of us, it is with contempt and scorn.  I know all that has
been done by Alva and Vargas.  I have heard from the Spaniards' own lips,
that they would like to root us out, exterminate us.  If I could only do
as I pleased, and were it not for my father, I know what I would do.  My
head is so confused.  The burgomaster's speech is driving me out of my
wits.  Tell him, junket, I beseech you, tell him I hate the Spaniards and
it would be my pride to be a Netherlander."

Both had continued their walk, and as they approached the burgomaster's
house, the captain, who had listened to the youth with joyful surprise,
said:

"You're cut from good timber, Junker, and on the way to the right goal.
Only keep Herr Peter's speech in your mind, and remember what you have
learned in history.  To whom belong the shining purple pages in the great
book of national history?  To the tyrants, their slaves and eye-servants,
or the men who lived and died for liberty?  Hold up your head.  This
conflict will perhaps outlast both our lives, and you still have a long
time to put yourself on the right side.  The nobleman must serve his
Prince, but he need be no slave of a ruler, least of all a foreigner,
an enemy of his nation.  Here we are; I'll come for you again in an hour.
Give me your hand.  I should like to call you by your Christian name in
future, my brave Nico."

"Call me so," exclaimed the youth, "and--you'll send no one else?  I
should like to talk with you again."

The Junker was received in the burgomaster's house by Barbara.  Henrica
could not see him immediately, Father Damianus was with her, so he was
obliged to wait in the dining-room until the priest appeared.  Nicolas
knew him well, and had even confessed to him once the year before.  After
greeting the estimable man and answering his inquiry how he had come
there, he said frankly and hastily:

"Forgive me, Father, but something weighs upon my heart.  You are a holy
man, and must know.  Is it a crime, if a Hollander fights against the
Spaniards, is it a sin, if a Hollander wishes to be and remain what God
made him?  I can't believe it."

"Nor do I," replied Damianus in his simple manner.  "Whoever clings
firmly to our holy church, whoever loves his neighbor and strives to do
right, may confidently favor the Dutch, and pray and fight for the
freedom of his native land."

"Ah!"  exclaimed Nicolas, with sparkling eyes.

"For," continued Damianus more eagerly, "for you see, before the
Spaniards came into the country, they were good Catholics here and led
devout lives, pleasing in the sight of God.  Why should it not be so
again?  The most High has separated men into nations, because He wills,
that they should lead their own lives and shape them for their salvation
and His honor; but not to give the stronger nation the right to torture
and oppress another.  Suppose your father went out to walk and a Spanish
grandee should jump on his shoulders and make him taste whip and spur, as
if he were a horse.  It would be bad for the Castilian.  Now substitute
Holland for Herr Matanesse, and Spain for the grandee, and you will know
what I mean.  There is nothing left for us to do, except cast off the
oppressor.  Our holy church will sustain no loss.  God appointed it, and
it will stand whether King Philip or another rules.  Now you know my
opinion.  Do I err or not, in thinking that the name of Glipper no longer
pleases you, dear Junker?"

"No, Father Damianus!--You are right, a thousand times right.  It is no
sin, to desire a free Holland."

"Who told you it was one?"

"Canon Bermont and our chaplain."

"Then we are of a different opinion concerning this temporal matter.
Give to God the things that are God's, and remain where the Lord placed
you.  When your beard grows, if you wish to fight for the liberty of
Holland, do so confidently.  That is a sin for which I will gladly grant
you absolution."

Henrica was greatly delighted to see the fresh, happy-looking youth
again.  Nicolas was obliged to tell her about her father and his, and
inform her how he had come to Leyden.  When she heard that he intended to
return in an hour, a bright idea entered her mind, which was wholly
engrossed by Belotti's mission.  She told Nicolas what she meant to do,
and begged him to take the steward through the Spanish army to the Hague.
The Junker was not only ready to fulfil her request, but promised that,
if the old man wanted to return, he would apprize her of it in some way.

At the end of an hour she bade the boy farewell, and when again walking
towards the Achtergracht with Herr von Warmond, he asked joyously:

"How shall I get to the Beggars?"

"You?"  asked the captain in astonishment.

"Yes, I!"  replied the Junker eagerly.  "I shall soon be seventeen, and
when I am--Wait, just wait--you'll hear of me yet."

"Right, Nicolas, right," replied the other.  "Let us be Holland nobles
and noble Hollanders."

Three hours later, Junker Matanesse Van Wibisma rode into the Hague with
Belotti, whom he had loved from childhood.  He brought his father nothing
but a carefully-folded and sealed letter, which Janus Dousa, with a
mischievous smile, had given him on behalf of the citizens of Leyden for
General Valdez, and which contained, daintily inscribed on a large sheet,
the following lines from Dionysius Cato:

"Fistula dulce canit volucrem dum decipit auceps."

["Sweet are the notes of the flute, when the fowler lures the bird
to his nest."]




CHAPTER XXVII.

The first week in June and half the second had passed, the beautiful
sunny days had drawn to a close, and numerous guests sought the "Angulus"
in Aquarius's tavern during the evening hours.  It was so cosy there when
the sea-breeze whistled, the rain poured, and the water fell plashing on
the pavements.  The Spanish besieging army encompassed the city like an
iron wall.  Each individual felt that he was a fellow-prisoner of his
neighbor, and drew closer to companions of his own rank and opinions.
Business was stagnant, idleness and anxiety weighed like lead on the
minds of all, and whoever wished to make time pass rapidly and relieve
his oppressed soul, went to the tavern to give utterance to his own hopes
and fears, and hear what others were thinking and feeling in the common
distress.

All the tables in the Angulus were occupied, and whoever wanted to be
understood by a distant neighbor was forced to raise his voice very loud,
for special conversations were being carried on at every table.  Here,
there, and everywhere, people were shouting to the busy bar-maid, glasses
clinked together, and pewter lids fell on the tops of hard stone-ware
jugs.

The talk at a round table in the end of the long room was louder than
anywhere else.  Six officers had seated themselves at it, among them
Georg von Dornburg.  Captain Van der Laen, his superior officer, whose
past career had been a truly heroic one, was loudly relating in his deep
voice, strange and amusing tales of his travels by sea and land, Colonel
Mulder often interrupted him, and at every somewhat incredible story,
smilingly told a similar, but perfectly impossible adventure of his own.
Captain Van Duivenvoorde soothingly interposed, when Van der Laen, who
was conscious of never deviating far from the truth, angrily repelled the
old man's jesting insinuations.  Captain Cromwell, a grave man with a
round head and smooth long hair, who had come to Holland to fight for the
faith, rarely mingled in the conversation, and then only with a few words
of scarcely intelligible Dutch.  Georg, leaning far back in his chair,
stretched his feet out before him and stared silently into vacancy.

Herr Aquanus, the host, walked from one table to another, and when he
at last reached the one where the officers sat, paused opposite to the
Thuringian, saying:

"Where are your thoughts, Junker?  One would scarcely know you during the
last few days.  What has come over you?"

Georg hastily sat erect, stretched himself like a person roused from
sleep, and answered pleasantly:

"Dreams come in idleness."

"The cage is getting too narrow for him," said Captain Van der Laen.
"If this state of things lasts long, we shall all get dizzy like the
sheep."

"And as stiff as the brazen Pagan god on the shelf yonder," added Colonel
Mulder.

"There was the same complaint during the first siege," replied the host,
"but Herr von Noyelles drowned his discontent and emptied many a cask of
my best liquor."

"Tell the gentlemen how he paid you," cried Colonel Mulder.

"There hangs the paper framed," laughed Aquarius.  "Instead of sending
money, he wrote this:

'Full many a favor, dear friend, hast thou done me,
For which good hard coin glad wouldst thou be to see
There's none in my pockets; so for the debt
In place of dirty coin,
This written sheet so fine;
Paper money in Leyden is easy to get.'"

"Excellent!" cried Junker von Warmond, "and besides you made the die for
the pasteboard coins yourself."

"Of course!  Herr von Noyelles' sitting still, cost me dear.  You have
already made two expeditions."

"Hush, hush, for God's sake say nothing about the first sally!" cried the
captain.  "A well-planned enterprise, which was shamefully frustrated,
because the leader lay down like a mole to sleep!  Where has such a thing
happened a second time?"

"But the other ended more fortunately," said the host.  "Three hundred
hams, one hundred casks of beer, butter, ammunition, and the most
worthless of all spies into the bargain; always an excellent prize."

"And yet a failure!"  cried Captain Van der Laen, "We ought to have
captured and brought in all the provision ships on the Leyden Lake!  And
the Kaag!  To think that this fort on the island should be in the hands
of the enemy."

"But the people have held out bravely," said von Warmond.

"There are real devils among them," replied Van der Laen, laughing.
"One struck a Spaniard down and, in the midst of the battle, took off
his red breeches and pulled them on his own legs."

"I know the man," added the landlord, "his name is Van Keulen; there he
sits yonder over his beer, telling the people all sorts of queer stories.
A fellow with a face like a satyr.  We have no lack of comfort yet!
Remember Chevraux' defeat, and the Beggars' victory at Vlissingen on the
Scheldt."

"To brave Admiral Boisot and the gallant Beggar troops!"  cried Captain
Van der Laen, touching glasses with Colonel Mulder.  The latter turned
with upraised beaker towards the Thuringian and, as the Junker who had
relapsed into his reverie, did not notice the movement, irritably
exclaimed:

"Well, Herr Dornburg, you require a long time to pledge a man."

Georg started and answered hastily:

"Pledge?  Oh! yes.  Pledge.  I pledge you, Colonel!"  With these words he
raised the goblet, drained it at a single draught, made the nail test and
replaced it on the table.

"Well done!"  cried the old man; and Herr Aquanus said:

"He learned that at the University; studying makes people thirsty."

As he uttered the words, he cast a friendly glance of anxiety at the
young German, and then looked towards the door, through which Wilhelm had
just entered the Angulus.  The landlord went to meet him and whispered:

"I don't like the German nobleman's appearance.  The singing lark has
become a mousing night-bird.  What ails him?"

"Home-sickness, no news from his family, and the snare into which the war
has drawn him in his pursuit of glory and honor.  He'll soon be his old
self again."

"I hope so," replied the host.  "Such a succulent little tree will
quickly rebound, when it is pressed to the earth; help the fine young
fellow."

A guest summoned the landlord, but the musician joined the officers and
began a low conversation with Georg, which was drowned by the confused
mingling of loud voices.

Wilhelm came from the Van der Werff house, where he had learned that the
next day but one, June fourteenth, would be the burgomaster's birthday.
Adrian had told Henrica, and the latter informed him.  The master of the
house was to be surprised with a song on the morning of his birthday
festival.

"Excellent," said Georg, interrupting his friend, "she will manage the
matter admirably."

"Not she alone; we can depend upon Fran Van der Werff too.  At first she
wanted to decline, but when I proposed a pretty madrigal, yielded and
took the soprano."

"The soprano?"  asked the Junker excitedly.  "Of course I'm at your
service.  Let us go; have you the notes at home?"

"No, Herr von Dornburg, I have just taken them to the ladies; but early
to-morrow morning--"

"There will be a rehearsal early to-morrow morning!  The jug is for me,
Jungfer Dortchen!  Your health, Colonel Mulder!  Captain Huivenvoorde,
I drain this goblet to your new standard and hope to have many a jolly
ride by your side."

The German's eyes again sparkled with an eager light, and when Captain
Van der Laen, continuing his conversation, cried enthusiastically: "The
Beggars of the Sea will yet sink the Spanish power.  The sea, gentlemen.
the sea!  To base one's cause on nothing, is the best way!  To exult,
leap and grapple in the storm!  To fight and struggle man to man and
breast to breast on the deck of the enemy's ship!  To fight and conquer,
or perish with the foe!"

"To your health, Junker!"  exclaimed the colonel.  "Zounds, we need such
youths!"

"Now you are your old self again," said Wilhelm, turning to his friend.
"Touch glasses to your dear ones at home."

"Two glasses for one," cried Georg.  "To the dear ones at home--to the
joys and sorrows of the heart, to the fair woman we love!  War is
rapture, love is life!  Let the wounds bleed, let the heart break into a
thousand pieces.  Laurels grow green on the battle-field, love twines
garlands of roses-roses with thorns, yet beautiful roses!  Go, beaker!
No other lips shall drink from you."

Georg's cheeks glowed as he flung the glass goblet into a corner of the
room, where it shattered into fragments.  His comrades at the table
cheered loudly, but Captain Cromwell rose quietly to leave the room,
and the landlord shook his wise head doubtfully.

It seemed as if fire had poured into Georg's soul and his spirit had
gained wings.  The thick waving locks curled in dishevelled masses around
his handsome head, as leaning far back in his chair with unfastened
collar, he mingled clever sallies and brilliant similes with the quiet
conversation of the others.  Wilhelm listened to his words sometimes with
admiration, sometimes with anxiety.  It was long past midnight, when the
musician left the tavern with his friend.  Colonel Mulder looked after
him and exclaimed to those left behind:

"The fellow is possessed with a devil."

The next morning the madrigal was practised at the burgomaster's house,
while its master was presiding over a meeting at the town-hall.  Georg
stood between Henrica and Maria.  So long as the musician found it
necessary to correct errors and order repetitions, a cheerful mood
pervaded the little choir, and Barbara, in the adjoining room, often
heard the sound of innocent laughter; but when each had mastered his or
her part and the madrigal was faultlessly executed, the ladies grew more
and more grave.  Maria gazed fixedly at the sheet of music, and rarely
had her voice sounded so faultlessly pure, so full of feeling.  Georg
adapted his singing to hers and his eyes, whenever they were raised from
the notes, rested on her face.  Henrica sought to meet the Junker's
glance, but always in vain, yet she wished to divert his attention from
the young wife, and it tortured her to remain unnoticed.  Some impulse
urged her to surpass Maria, and the whole passionate wealth of her nature
rang out in her singing.  Her fervor swept the others along.  Maria's
treble rose exultantly above the German's musical voice, and Henrica's
tones blended angrily yet triumphantly in the strain.  The delighted and
inspired musician beat the time and, borne away by the liquid melody of
Henrica's voice, revelled in sweet recollections of her sister.

When the serenade was finished, he eagerly cried:

"Again!"  The rivalry between the singers commenced with fresh vigor,
and this time the Junker's beaming gaze met the young wife's eyes.
She hastily lowered the notes, stepped out of the semicircle, and said:

"We know the madrigal.  Early to-morrow morning, Meister Wilhelm; my time
is limited."

"Oh, oh!"  cried the musician regretfully.  "It was going on so
splendidly, and there were only a few bars more."  But Maria was already
standing at the door and made no reply, except:

"To-morrow."

The musician enthusiastically thanked Henrica for her singing; Georg
courteously expressed his gratitude.  When both had taken leave, Henrica
paced rapidly to and fro, passionately striking her clenched fist in the
palm of her other hand.

The singers were ready early on the birthday morning, but Peter had risen
before sunrise, for there was a proposition to be arranged with the city
clerk, which must be completed before the meeting of the council.
Nothing was farther from his thoughts than his birthday, and when the
singers in the dining-room commenced their madrigal, he rapped on the
door, exclaiming:

"We are busy; find another place for your singing."  The melody was
interrupted for a moment, and Barbara said:

"People picking apples don't think of fishing-nets.  He has no idea it is
his birthday.  Let the children go in first."

Maria now entered the study with Adrian and Bessie.  They carried
bouquets in their hands, and the young wife had dressed the little girl
so prettily that, in her white frock, she really looked like a dainty
fairy.

Peter now knew the meaning of the singing, warmly embraced the three
well-wishers, and when the madrigal began again, stood opposite to the
performers to listen.  True, the execution was not nearly so good as at
the rehearsal, for Maria sang in a low and somewhat muffled voice, while,
spite of Wilhelm's vehement beating of time, the warmth and verve of the
day before would not return.

"Admirable, admirable," cried  Peter, when  the singers ceased.  "Well
planned and executed, a beautiful birthday surprise."  Then he shook
hands with each, saying a few cordial words and, as he grasped the
Junker's right hand, remarked warmly: "You have dropped down on us from
the skies during these bad days, just at the right time.  It is always
something to have a home in a foreign land, and you have found one with
us."

Georg had bent his eyes on the floor, but at the last words raised them
and met the burgomaster's.  How honestly, how kindly and frankly they
looked at him!  Deep emotion overpowered him, and without knowing what
he was doing, he laid his hands on Peter's arms and hid his face on his
shoulder.

Van der Werff suffered him to do so, stroked the youth's hair, and said
smiling:

"Like Leonhard, wife, just like our Leonhard.  We will dine together
to-day.  You, too, Van Hout; and don't forget your wife."

Maria assigned the seats at the table, so that she was not obliged to
look at Georg.  His place was beside Frau Van Hout and opposite Henrica
and the musician.  At first he was silent and embarrassed, but Henrica
gave him no rest, and when he had once begun to answer her questions he
was soon carried away by her glowing vivacity, and gave free, joyous play
to his wit.  Henrica did not remain in his debt, her eyes sparkled, and
in the increasing pleasure of trying the power of her intellect against
his, she sought to surpass every jest and repartee made by the Junker.
She drank no wine, but was intoxicated by her own flow of language and so
completely engrossed Georg's attention, that he found no time to address
a word to the other guests.  If he attempted to do so, she quickly
interrupted him and compelled him to turn to her again.  This constraint
annoyed the young man; while struggling against it his spirit of
wantonness awoke, and he began to irritate Henrica into making
unprecedented assertions, which he opposed with equally unwarrantable
ones of his own.

Maria sometimes listened to the young lady in surprise, and there was
something in Georg's manner that vexed her.  Peter took little notice of
Henrica; he was talking with Van Hout about the letters from the Glippers
asking a surrender, three of which had already been brought into the
city, of the uncertain disposition of some members of the council and the
execution of the captured spy.

Wilhelm, who had scarcely vouchsafed his neighbor an answer, was now
following the conversation of the older men and remarked, that he had
known the traitor.  He was a tavern-keeper, in whose inn he had once met
Herr Matanesse Van Wibisma.

"There we have it," said Van Hout.  "A note was found in Quatgelat's
pouch, and the writing bore a mysterious resemblance to the baron's hand.
Quatgelat was to enquire about the quantity of provisions in Leyden."
"All alike!"  exclaimed the burgomaster.  "Unhappily he could have
brought tidings only too welcome to Valdez.  Little that is cheering has
resulted from the investigation; though the exact amount has not yet been
ascertained."

"We must place it during the next few days in charge of the ladies."

"Give it to the women?"  asked Peter in astonishment.

"Yes, to us!"  cried Van Hout's wife.  "Why should we sit idle, when we
might be of use."

"Give us the  work!"  exclaimed Maria.  "We are as eager as you, to
render the great cause some service."

"And believe me," added Frau Van Hout, "we shall find admittance to
store-rooms and cellars much more quickly than constables and guards,
whom the housewives fear."

"Women in the service of the city," said Peter thoughtfully.  "To be
honest--but your proposal shall be considered.--The young lady is in good
spirits today."

Maria glanced indignantly at Henrica, who had leaned far across the
table.  She was showing Georg a ring, and laughingly exclaimed:

"Don't you wish to know what the device means?  Look, a serpent biting
its own tail."

"Aha!"  replied the Junker, "the symbol of self-torment."

"Good, good!  But it has another meaning, which you would do well to
notice, Sir Knight.  Do you know the signification of eternity and
eternal faith?"

"No, Fraulein, I wasn't taught to think so deeply at Jena."

"Of course.  Your teachers were men.  Men and faith, eternal faith!"

"Was Delilah, who betrayed Samson to the Philistines, a man or a woman?"
asked Van Hout.

"She was a woman.  The exception, that proves the rule.  Isn't that so,
Maria?"

The burgomaster's wife made no reply except a silent nod; then
indignantly pushed back her chair, and the meal was over.




ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

Drinking is also an art, and the Germans are masters of it
Here the new custom of tobacco-smoking was practised
Standing still is retrograding
To whom fortune gives once, it gives by bushels
Youth calls 'much,' what seems to older people 'little'






THE BURGOMASTER'S WIFE

By Georg Ebers

Volume 5.



CHAPTER XXVIII.

Days and weeks had passed, July was followed by sultry August, and that,
too, was drawing to a close.  The Spaniards still surrounded Leyden, and
the city now completely resembled a prison.  The soldiers and armed
citizens did their duty wearily and sullenly, there was business enough
at the town-hall, but the magistrates' work was sad and disagreeable; for
no message of hope came from the Prince or the Estates, and everything to
be considered referred to the increasing distress and the terrible
follower of war, the plague, which had made its entry into Leyden with
the famine.  Moreover the number of malcontents weekly increased.  The
friends of the old order of affairs now raised their voices more and more
loudly, and many a friend of liberty, who saw his family sickening,
joined the Spanish sympathizers and demanded the surrender of the city.
The children went to school and met in the playrounds as before, but
there was rarely a flash of the merry pertness of former days, and what
had become of the boys' red cheeks and the round arms of the little
girls?  The poor drew their belts tighter, and the morsel of bread,
distributed by the city to each individual, was no longer enough to quiet
hunger and support life.

Junker Georg had long been living in Burgomaster Van der Werff's house.

On the morning of August 29th he returned home from an expedition,
carrying a cross-bow in his hand, while a pouch hung over his shoulder.
This time he did not go up-stairs, but sought Barbara in the kitchen.
The widow received him with a friendly nod; her grey eyes sparkled as
brightly as ever, but her round face had grown narrower and there was a
sorrowful quiver about the sunken mouth.

"What do you bring to-day?"  she asked the Junker.  Georg thrust his hand
into his game-bag and answered, smiling: "A fat snipe and four larks; you
know."

"Poor sparrows!  But what sort of a creature can this be?  Headless,
legless, and carefully plucked!  Junker, Junker, that's suspicious."

"It will do for the pan, and the name is of no consequence."

"Yet, yet; true, nobody knows on what he fattens, but the Lord didn't
create every animal for the human stomach."

"That's just what I said.  It's a short-billed snipe, a corvus, a real
corvus."

"Corvus!  Nonsense, I'm afraid of the thing--the little feathers under
the wings.  Good heavens!  surely it isn't a raven?"

"It's a corvus, as I said.  Put the bird in vinegar, roast it with
seasoning and it will taste like a real snipe.  Wild ducks are not to be
found every day, as they were a short time ago, and sparrows are getting
as scarce as roses in winter.  Every boy is standing about with a cross-
bow, and in the court-yards people are trying to catch them under sieves
and with lime-twigs.  They are going to be exterminated, but one or
another is still spared.  How is the little elf?"

"Don't call her that!"  exclaimed the widow.  "Give her her Christian
name.  She looks like this cloth, and since yesterday has refused to take
the milk we daily procure for her at a heavy cost.  Heaven knows what
the end will be.  Look at that cabbage-stalk.  Half a stiver! and  that
miserable piece of bone!  Once I should have thought it too poor for the
dogs--and now!  The whole household must be satisfied with it.  For
supper I shall boil ham-rind with wine and add a little porridge to it.
And this for a giant like Peter!  God only knows where he gets his
strength; but he looks like his own shadow.  Maria doesn't need anything
more than a bird, but Adrian, poor fellow, often leaves the table with
tears in his eyes, yet I know he has broken many a bit of bread from his
thin slice for Bessie.  It is pitiable.  Yet the proverb says: 'Stretch
yourself towards the ceiling, or your feet will freeze--'Necessity knows
no law,' and 'Reserve to preserve.'  Day before yesterday, like the rest,
we again gave of the little we still possessed.  To-morrow, everything
beyond what is needed for the next fortnight, must be delivered up, and
Peter won't allow us to keep even a bag of flour, but what will come
then--merciful Heaven!--"

The widow sobbed aloud as she uttered the last words and continued,
weeping:  "Where do you get your strength?  At your age this miserable
scrap of meat is a mere drop of water on a red-hot stone."

"Herr Van Aken gives me what he can, in addition to my ration.  I shall
get through; but I witnessed a terrible sight to-day at the tailor's, who
mends my clothes."