The Burgomaster's Wife — Complete

  CHAPTER XII.

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

  On a morning early in May the musician, Wilhelm Corneliussohn, and JanusDousa turned the corner of Nobelstrasse. Both men were engaged in eagerconversation, but as they approached the straw and sand, their voicesbecame lower and then ceased entirely.

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

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

  Wilhelm entered the little room where he usually waited, and for thefirst time found another visitor there, but in a somewhat peculiarattitude. Father Damianus sat bolt upright in an arm-chair, with hishead drooping on one side, sound asleep. The face of the priest, a manapproaching his fortieth year, was as pink and white as a child's, andframed by a thin light-brown beard. A narrow circle of thin light hairsurrounded his large tonsure, and a heavy dark rosary of olive-woodbeads hung from the sleeper's hands. A gentle, kindly smile hoveredaround his half-parted lips.

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

  When Belotti entered the room and saw the sleeping priest, he carefullypushed a pillow under his head and beckoned to Wilhelm to follow himinto the entry.

  "We won't grudge him a little rest," said the Italian. "He has satbeside 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 asconsciousness returns she wants religious consolation. She still refusesto take the sacrament for the dying, for she won't admit that sheis approaching her end. Yet often, when the disease attacks her moresharply, she asks in mortal terror if everything is ready, for she isafraid 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 reverentlykissed his hand and Wilhelm bowed respectfully.

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

  "It won't do sir, the Virgin knows it won't do. My dismissal was givenfor the first of May, this is the eighth, and yet I'm still here--Ihaven't left the house because I'm a Christian! Now the ladies have agood physician, Sister Gonzaga is doing her duty, you yourself willearn by your nursing a place among the martyrs in Paradise, so, withoutmaking myself guilty of a sin, I can tie up my bundle."

  "You will not go, Belotti," said the priest firmly. "If you still insiston 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 answeredquietly:

  "You can add nothing, young sir, to what the holy Father representedto me yesterday. But my mind is made up, I shall go; yet as I value theholy Father's good opinion and yours, I beg you to do me the favor tolisten to me. I have passed my sixty-second birthday, and an old horseor an old servant stands a long time in the market-place before anyone will buy them. There might probably be a place in Brussels for aCatholic steward, who understands his business, but this old heart longsto return to Naples--ardently, ardently, unutterably. You have seen ourblue sea and our sky, young sir, and I yearn for them, but even more forother, smaller things. It now seems a joy that I can speak in my nativelanguage to you, Herr Wilhelm, and you, holy Father. But there is acountry where every one uses the same tongue that I do. There is alittle village at the foot of Vesuvius--merciful Heavens! Many a personwould be afraid to stay there, even half an hour, when the mountainquakes, the ashes fall in showers, and the glowing lava pours out ina stream. The houses there are by no means so well built, and thewindow-panes are not so clean as in this country. I almost fear thatthere 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 ourvillage streets? Poles with vines, boughs of fig-trees, and all sortsof under-clothing on the roofs, at the windows, and the crooked, slopingbalconies; orange and lemon-trees with golden fruit grow in the littlegardens, which have neither straight paths nor symmetrical beds.Everything there grows together topsy-turvy. The boys, who in rags thatno tailor has darned or mended, clamber over the white vineyard walls,the little girls, whose mothers comb their hair before the doors of thehouses, are not so pink and white, nor so nicely washed as the Hollandchildren, but I should like to see again the brown-skinned, black-hairedlittle ones with the dark eyes, and end my days amid all the clatter inthe warm air, among my nephews, nieces and blood-relations."

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

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

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

  "If you wait here a few weeks more, Belotti, you will find the truerest, the peace of a good conscience. The crown of life is promised tothose, who are faithful, unto death. When these sad days are over, itwill be easy to smooth the way to your home. We shall meet again towardsnoon, Belotti. If my assistance is necessary, send for me; old Ambrosiusknows where to find me. May God's blessing rest upon you, and if youwill 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 oversouls. 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-outshoes, 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 thishouse things, which your youth does not dream could be possible. Theyoung 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 thesignorina bears the Hoogstraten name, and that is saying everything. Doyou know her father?"

  "No, Belotti."

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

  "Has Henrica an older sister?"

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

  "Isabella!" exclaimed the musician. A conjecture, which had been arousedsince his conversation with Henrica, appeared to be confirmed; he seizedthe steward's arm so suddenly and unexpectedly, that the latter drewback, 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 mis
taken. There has never been an Isabella in thishouse 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 againentered the Hoogstraten mansion. The little room was empty, but Belottidid not keep him waiting long.

  The old man placed a dainty little waiter, bearing a jug of wine and agoblet, on the table beside the lamp and, after informing Wilhelm of theinvalids' condition, courteously offered him a chair. When the musicianasked 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 sitdown. The servant who attends to the chambers has left the house, andI've done nothing but go up and down stairs all day. It tries my oldlegs, and we can expect no quiet night."

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

  "I spoke this morning of the Hoogstraten race. Children of the sameparents, it is true, are often very unlike, but in your littlecountry, which speaks its own language and has many things peculiar toitself--you won't deny that--every old family has its special traits. Iknow, for I have been in many a noble household in Holland. Every racehas its own peculiar blood and ways. Even where--by your leave--there isa 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 tospeak 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 gladto 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 easilyforget. 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 whatlady might not have fair, brown or dark hair? I think we shall reachthe goal sooner, if you will let me ask a question now. Had the ladyyou mean a large semi-circular scar just under the hair, exactly in themiddle of her forehead?"

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

  "On the contrary, sir, the handle of Junker Van Hoogstraten's weaponfell on the forehead of his own daughter. How horrified you look! Oh! Ihave witnessed worse things in this house. Now it is your turn again: Inwhat 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. Whathad the child done, that her own father--"

  "He is the wildest of all the wild Hoogstratens. Perhaps you may haveseen men like him in Italy--in this country you might seek long for sucha hurricane. You must not think him an evil-disposed man, but a wordthat 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. Thesignorina received her scar in the same way. She was a mere child, andof course ought not to have touched fire-arms, nevertheless she didwhenever she could, and once a pistol went off and the bullet struck oneof the best hunting-dogs. Her father heard the report and, when he sawthe 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, theclass to which you probably belong, cautiously consider before theyspeak 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 ifthey ever think, it is only after the act is accomplished. If they thenfind that they have committed an injustice, pride comes in and forbidsthem to confess, atone for, or recall it. So one misfortune followsanother; but the gentlemen pay no heed and find forgetfulness indrinking and gambling, carousing and hunting. There are plenty of debts,but all anxiety concerning them is left to the creditors, and boys whoreceive no inheritance are supplied with a place at court or in thearmy; for the girls, thank God, there is no lack of convents, if theyconfess our holy religion, and both have expectations from rich auntsand 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 heneed not keep his property for sons, since his wife gave him none. Hemet 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 ladiesgrew up without a mother. You have heard that their father would evenattack them, yet he doubtless loved them and would never resolveto place them in a convent. True, he often felt--at least he freelyadmitted it in conversations with her excellenza--that there were moresuitable places for young girls than his castle, where matters wentbadly enough, and so he at last sent his oldest daughter to us. Mymistress usually could not endure the society of young girls, butFraulein Anna was one of her nearest relatives, and I know she invitedher of her own accord. I can still see in memory the signorina atsixteen; a sweeter creature, Herr Wilhelm, my eyes have never beheldbefore or since, and yet she never remained the same. I have seen heras soft as Flemish velvet, but at other times she could rage like aNovember storm in your country. She was always beautiful as a rose and,as her mother's old cameriera--she was a native of Lugano--hadbrought her up, and the priest who taught her came from Pisa and wasacknowledged to be an excellent musician, she spoke my language likea child of Tuscany and was perfectly familiar with music. You havedoubtless heard her singing, her harp and lute-playing, but you shouldknow that all the ladies of the Hoogstraten family, with the exceptionof my mistress, possess a special talent for your art. In summer welived in the beautiful country-house, that was torn down before thesiege by your friends--with little justice I think. Many a stately guestrode out to visit us. We kept open house, and where there is a goodtable and a beautiful young lady like our signorina, the gallants arenot far off. Among them was a very aristocratic gentleman of middle age,the Marquis d'Avennes, whom her excellenza had expressly invited. We hadnever received any prince with so much attention; but this was a matterof course, for his mother was a relative of her excellenza. You mustknow that my mistress; on her mother's side, is descended from a familyin Normandy. The Marquis d'Avennes was certainly an elegant cavalier,but rather dainty than manly. He was soon madly in love with FrauleinAnna, and asked in due form for her hand. Her excellenza favored thematch, and the father said simply: 'You will take him!' He would listento no opposition. Other gentlemen don't consult their daughters when asuitable lover appears. So the signorina became the marquis's betrothedwife, but the padrona said firmly that her niece was too young to bemarried. She induced Junker Van Hoogstraten, whom she held as firmly asa farrier holds a filly, to defer the wedding until Easter. The outfitwas to be provided during the winter. The condition that he must waitsix months was imposed on the marquis, and he went back to France withthe ring on his finger. His betrothed bride did not shed a single tearfor him, and as soon as he had gone, flung the engagement ring into thejewel-cup on her dressing-table, before the eyes of the camariera, fromwhom I heard the story. She did not venture to oppose her father,but did not hesitate to express her opinion of the marquis to herexcellenza, and her aunt, though she had favored the Frenchman's suit,allowed it. Yet there had often been fierce quarrels between the old andyoung lady, and if the padrona had had reason to clip the wild falcon'swings and tea
ch her what is fitting for noble ladies, the signorinawould have been justified in complaining of many an exaction, by whichthe padrona had spoiled her pleasure in life. I am sorry to destroy theconfidence of your youth, but whoever grows grey, with his eyes open,will meet persons who rejoice, nay to whom it is a necessity to injureothers. Yet it is a consolation, that no one is wicked simply forthe sake of wickedness, and I have often found--how shall I expressit?--that the worst impulses arise from the perversion, or even theexcess of the noblest virtues, whose reverse or caricature they become.I have seen base envy proceed from beautiful ambition, contemptibleavarice from honest emulation, fierce hate from tender love. Mymistress, when she was young, knew how to love truly and faithfully, butshe was shamefully deceived, and now rancor, not against an individual,but against life, has taken possession of her, and her noble loyalty hasbecome tenacious adherence to bad wishes. How this has happened you willlearn, if you will continue to listen.

  "When winter came, I was ordered to go to Brussel, and establish the newhousehold in splendid style. The ladies were to follow me. It was fouryears ago. The Duke of Alva then lived as viceroy in Brussels, and thisnobleman held my mistress in high esteem, nay had even twice paid us thehonor of a visit. His aristocratic officers also frequented our house,among them Don Luis d'Avila, a nobleman of ancient family, who was oneof the duke's favorites. Like the Marquis d'Avennes, he was no longer inhis early youth, but was a man of totally different stamp; tall, strongas if hammered from steel, a soldier of invincible strength and skill,a most dreaded seeker of quarrels, but a man whose glowing eyes andwonderful gift of song must have exerted a mysterious, bewitching powerover women. Dozens of adventures, in which he was said to have takenpart, were told in the servant's hall and half of them had somefoundation of truth, as I afterwards learned by experience. If yousuppose this heart-breaker bore any resemblance to the gay, curly-hairedminions of fortune, on whom young ladies lavish their love, you aremistaken; Don Luis was a grave man with close-cut hair, who never woreanything but dark clothes, and even carried a sword, whose hilt, insteadof gold and silver, consisted of blackened metal. He resembleddeath much more than blooming love. Perhaps this very thing made himirresistible, since we are all born for death and no suitor is so sureof victory as he.

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

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

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

  "During Lent a messenger from Fraulein Van Hoogstraten's father arrivedwith the news, that at Easter he, himself, would come to Brussels fromHaarlem, and the marquis from Castle Rochebrun, and on Maundy ThursdayI received orders to dress the private chapel with flowers, engageposthorses, and do several other things. On Good Friday, the day of ourLord's crucifixion--I wish I were telling lies--early in the morning ofGood Friday the signorina was dressed in all her bridal finery. Don Luisappeared 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 wereonly yesterday--the Castilian was married to our young mistress. Thepadrona, a Spanish officer and I were the witnesses. At seven o'clockthe carriage drove up, and after it was packed Don Luis handed me alittle box to put in the vehicle. It was heavy and I knew it well; thepadrona was in the habit of keeping her gold coin in it. At Easter thewhole city learned that Don Luis d'Avila had eloped with the beautifulAnna Van Hoogstraten, after killing her betrothed bridegroom in a duelon Maundy-Thursday at Hals on his way to Brussels--scarcely twenty-fourhours before the wedding.

  "I shall never forget how Junker Van Hoogstraten raged. The padronarefused to see him and pretended to be ill, but she was as well as onlyshe 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 isgrowing late; besides I cannot tell you minute particulars, for I wasmyself a child when the event happened, though Susanna has told me manythings that would probably be worth relating. Her excellenza's motherwas a Chevreaux, and my mistress spent the best years of her life withher mother's sister, who during the winter lived in Paris. It was in thereign of the late King Francis, and you doubtless know that this greatPrince was a very gallant gentleman, who was said to have broken asmany hearts as lances. My padrona, who in those days was very beautiful,belonged to the ladies of his court, and King Francis especiallydistinguished her. But the young lady knew how to guard her honor, forshe had early found in the gallant Marquis d'Avennes a knight to whomshe was loyally devoted, and for whom she had wept bitterly many anight. Like master, like servant, and though the marquis had wornthe young lady's color for years and rendered her every service of anobedient knight, his eyes and heart often wandered to the right andleft. Yet he always returned to his liege-lady, and when the sixth yearcame, the Chevreaux's urged the marquis to put an end to his triflingand think of marriage. My mistress began to make her preparations, andSusanna was a witness of her consultation with the marquis about whethershe would keep or sell the Holland estates and castles. But the weddingdid not take place, for the marquis was obliged to go to Italy with thearmy and her excellenza lived in perpetual anxiety about him; at thattime the French fared ill in my country, and he often left her wholemonths without news. At last he returned and found in the Chevreaux'shouse his betrothed wife's little cousin, who had grown up into acharming young lady.

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

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

  "What more have you heard of Anna?"

  "Very little," replied Belotti. "Her father has tor
n her from his heart,and calls Henrica his only daughter. Happiness abandons those who areburdened by a father's curse, and she certainly did not find it. DonLuis is said to have been degraded to the rank of ensign on accountof 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 ofher during the last few months."

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

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

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