CHAPTER XXXI.
Georg descended the stairs in a state of bewilderment. Both halves ofthe book, in which ever since the wedding at Delft he had written asuccession of verses to Maria, lay in his hand.
The light of the kitchen-fire streamed into the entry. He followed it,and before answering Barbara's kind greeting, went to the hearthand flung into the fire the sheets, which contained the pure, sweetfragrance of a beautiful flower of youth.
"Oho! Junker!" cried the widow. "A quick fire doesn't suit every kind offood. What is burning there?"
"Foolish paper!" he answered. "Have no fear. At the utmost it might weepand put out the flames. It will be ashes directly. There go the sparks,flying in regular rows through the black, charred pages. How pretty itlooks! They appear, leap forth and vanish--like a funeralprocession with torches in a pitch-dark night. Good-night, poorchildren--good-night, dear songs! Look, Frau Barbara! They are rollingthemselves up tightly, convulsively, as if it hurt them to burn."
"What sort of talk is that?" replied Barbara, thrusting the charred bookdeeper into the fire with the tongs. Then pointing to her own forehead,she continued: "One often feels anxious about you. High-sounding words,such as we find in the Psalms, are not meant for every-day life and ourkitchen. If you were my own son, you'd often have something to listento. People who travel at a steady pace reach their goal soonest."
"That's good advice for a journey," replied Georg, holding out his handto the widow. "Farewell, dear mother. I can't bear it here any longer.In half an hour I shall turn my back on this good city."
"Go then--just as you choose--Or is the young lady taking you in tow?Nobleman's son and nobleman's daughter! Like to like--Yet, no; therehas been nothing between you. Her heart is good, but I should wish youanother wife than that Popish Everyday-different."
"So Henrica has told you--"
"She has just gone. Dear me-she has her relatives outside; and we--it'shard to divide a plum into twelve pieces. I said farewell to hercheerfully; but you, Georg, you--"
"I shall take her out of the city, and then--you won't blame me forit--then I shall make my way through to the Beggars."
"The Beggars! That's a different matter, that's right. You'll be in yourproper place there! Cheer up, Junker, and go forth boldly? Give me yourhand, and if you meet my boy--he commands a ship of his own.--Dear me, Iremember something. You can wait a moment longer. Come here, Trautchen.The woollen stockings I knit for him are up in the painted chest. Makehaste and fetch them. He may need them on the water in the damp autumnweather. You'll take them with you?"
"Willingly, most willingly; and now let me thank you for all yourkindness. You have been like an own mother to me." Georg clasped thewidow's hand, and neither attempted to conceal how dear each had becometo the other and how hard it was to part. Trautchen had given Barbarathe stockings, and many tears fell upon them, while the widow wasbidding the Junker farewell. When she noticed they were actually wet,she waved them in the air and handed them to the young man.
The night was dark but still, even sultry. The travellers were receivedat the Hohenort Gate by Captain Van Duivenvoorde, preceded by an oldsergeant, carrying a lantern, who opened the gate. The captainembraced his brave, beloved comrade, Dornburg; a few farewell wordsand god-speeds echoed softly from the fortification walls, and the triostepped forth into the open country.
For a time they walked silently through the darkness. Wilhelm knew theway and strode in front of Henrica; the Junker kept close at her side.
All was still, except from time to time they heard a word of commandfrom the walls, the striking of a clock, or the barking of a dog.
Henrica had recognized Georg by the light of the lantern, and whenWilhelm stopped to ascertain whether there was any water in the ditchover which he intended to guide his companions, she said, under herbreath:
"I did not expect your escort, Junker."
"I know it, but I, too, desired to leave the city."
"And wish to avail yourself of our knowledge of the watchword. Then staywith us."
"Until I know you are safe, Fraulein."
"The walls of Leyden already lie between you and the peril from whichyou fly."
"I don't understand you."
"So much the better."
Wilhelm turned and, in a muffled voice, requested his companions to keepsilence. They now walked noiselessly on, until just outside the campthey reached the broad road around which they had made a circuit. ASpanish sentinel challenged them.
"Lepanto!" was the answer, and they passed on through the campunmolested. A coach drawn by four horses, a mere box hung between twotiny fore-wheels and a pair of gigantic hind-wheels, drove slowly pastthem. It was conveying Magdalena Moons, the daughter of an aristocraticHolland family, distinguished among the magistracy, back to the Haguefrom a visit to her lover and future husband, Valdez. No one noticedHenrica, for there were plenty of women in the camp. Several poorly-cladones sat before the tents, mending the soldiers' clothes. Somegaily-bedizened wenches were drinking wine and throwing dice with theirmale companions in front of an officer's tent. A brighter light glowedfrom behind the general's quarters, where, under a sort of shed, severalconfessionals and an altar had been erected. Upon this altar candleswere burning, and over it hung a silver lamp; a dark, motionless streampressed towards it; Castilian soldiers, among whom individuals could berecognized only when the candle-light flashed upon a helmet or coat ofmail.
The loud singing of carousing German mercenaries, the neighing andstamping of the horses, and the laughter of the officers and girls,drowned the low chanting of the priests and the murmur of the penitents,but the shrill sounding of the bell calling to mass from time to timepierced, with its swift vibrations, through the noise of the camp. Justoutside the village the watch-word was again used, and they reached thefirst house unmolested.
"Here we are," said Wilhelm, with a sigh of relief. "Profit by thedarkness, Junker, and keep on till you have the Spaniards behind you."
"No, my friend; you will remain here. I wish to share your danger. Ishall return with you to Leyden and from thence try to reach Delft;meantime I'll keep watch and give you warning, if necessary."
"Let us bid each other farewell now, Georg; hours may pass before Ireturn."
"I have time, a horrible amount of time. I'll wait. There goes thedoor."
The Junker grasped his sword, but soon removed his hand from the hilt,for it was Belotti, who came out and greeted the signorina.
Henrica followed him into the house and there talked with him in a lowtone, until Georg called her, saying:
"Fraulein Van Hoogstraten, may I ask for a word of farewell?"
"Farewell, Herr von Dornburg!" she answered distantly, but advanced astep towards him.
Georg had also approached, and now held out his hand. She hesitated amoment, then placed hers in it, and said so softly, that only he couldhear:
"Do you love Maria?"
"So I am to confess?"
"Don't refuse my last request, as you did the first. If you can begenerous, answer me fearlessly. I'll not betray your secret to any one.Do you love Frau Van der Werff?"
"Yes, Fraulein."
Henrica drew a long breath, then continued: "And now you are rushing outinto the world to forget her?"
"No, Fraulein."
"Then tell me why you have fled from Leyden?"
"To find an end that becomes a soldier."
Henrica advanced close to his side, exclaiming so scornfully, that itcut Georg to the heart:
"So it has grasped you too! It seizes all: Knights, maidens, wives andwidows; not one is spared. Never ending sorrow! Farewell, Georg! We canlaugh at or pity each other, just as we choose. A heart pierced withseven swords: what an exquisite picture! Let us wear blood-red knots ofribbon, instead of green and blue ones. Give me your hand once more, nowfarewell."
Henrica beckoned to the musician and both followed Belotti up the steep,narrow stairs. Wilhelm remained behind in a little room, adjoining
asecond one, where a beautiful boy, about three years old, was beingtended by an Italian woman. In a third chamber, which like all the otherrooms in the farm-house, was so low that a tall man could scarcely standerect, Henrica's sister lay on a wide bedstead, over which a screen,supported by four columns, spread like a canopy. Links dimly lightedthe long narrow room. The reddish-yellow rays of their broad flames weredarkened by the canopy, and scarcely revealed the invalid's face.
Henrica had given the Italian woman and the child in the second room buta hasty greeting, and now impetuously pressed forward into the third,rushed to the bed, threw herself on her knees, clasped her armspassionately around her sister, and covered her face with owing kisses.
She said nothing but "Anna," and the sick woman and no other word than"Henrica." Minutes elapsed, then the young girl started up, seized oneof the torches and cast its light on her regained sister's face. Howpale, how emaciated it looked! But it was still beautiful, stillthe same as before. Strangely-blended emotions of joy and grief tookpossession of Henrica's soul. Her cold hard feelings grew warm andmelted, and in this hour the comfort of tears, of which she had been solong deprived, once more became hers.
Gradually the flood tide of emotion began to ebb, and the confusion ofloving exclamations and incoherent words gained some order and separatedinto question and answer. When Anna learned that the musician hadaccompanied her sister, she wished to see him, and when he entered, heldout both hands, exclaiming:
"Meister, Meister, in what a condition you find me again! Henrica, thisis the best of men; the only unselfish friend I have found on earth."
The succeeding hours were full of sorrowful agitation.
Belotti and the old Italian woman often undertook to speak for theinvalid, and gradually the image of a basely-destroyed life, that hadbeen worthy of a better fate, appeared before Henrica and Wilhelm. Fear,anxiety and torturing doubt had from the first saddened Anna's existencewith the unprincipled adventurer and gambler, who had succeeded inbeguiling her young, experienced heart. A short period of intoxicationwas followed by an unexampled awakening. She was clasping her firstchild to her breast, when the unprecedented outrage occurred--Don Luisdemanded that she should move with him into the house of a notoriousMarchesa, in whose ill-famed gambling-rooms he had spent his eveningsand nights for months. She indignantly refused, but he coldly andthreateningly persisted in having his will. Then the Hoogstraten bloodasserted itself, and without a word of farewell she fled with herchild to Lugano. There the boy was received by his mother's formerwaiting-maid, while she herself went to Rome, not as an adventuress, butwith a fixed, praiseworthy object in view. She intended to fully perfecther musical talents in the new schools of Palestrina and Nanini, andthus obtain the ability, by means of her art, to support her childindependently of his father and hers. She risked much, but very definitehopes hovered before her eyes, for a distinguished prelate and lover ofmusic, to whom she had letters of introduction from Brussels, and whoknew her voice, had promised that after her return from her musicalstudies he would give her the place of singing-mistress to a young girlof noble birth, who had been educated in a convent at Milan. She wasunder his guardianship, and the worthy man took care to provide Anna,before her departure, with letters to his friends in the eternal city.
Her hasty flight from Rome had been caused by the news, that Don Luishad found and abducted his son. She could not lose her child, and whenshe did not find the boy in Milan, followed and at last discovered himin Naples. There d'Avila restored the child, after she had declared herwillingness to make over to him the income she still received from heraunt. The long journey, so full of excitement and fatigue, exhausted herstrength, and she returned to Milan feeble and broken in health.
Her patron had been anxious to keep the place of singing-mistress openfor her, but she could only fulfil for a short time the duties to whichthe superior of the convent kindly summoned her, for her sickness wasincreasing and a terrible cough spoiled her voice. She now returned toLugano, and there sought to compensate her poor honest friend by thesale of her ornaments, but the time soon came when the generous artistwas forced to submit to be supported by the charity of a servant. Untilthe last six months she had not suffered actual want, but when hermaid's husband died, anxiety about the means of procuring daily breadarose, and now maternal love broke down Anna's pride: she wrote to herfather as a repentant daughter, bowed down by misfortune, but receivedno reply. At last, reduced to starvation with her child, she undertookthe hardest possible task, and besought the man, of whom she could onlythink with contempt and loathing, not to let his son grow up like abeggar's child. The letter, which contained this cry of distress, hadreached Don Luis just before his death. No help was to come to her fromhim. But Belotti appeared, and now she was once more at home, her friendand sister were standing beside her bed, and Henrica encouraged her tohope for her father's forgiveness.
It was past midnight, yet Georg still awaited his friend's return. Thenoise and bustle of the camp began to die away and the lantern, which atfirst had but feebly lighted the spacious lower-room of the farmhouse,burned still more dimly. The German shared this apartment withagricultural implements, harnesses, and many kinds of grain andvegetables heaped in piles against the walls, but he lacked inclinationto cast even a glance at his motley surroundings. There was nothingpleasant to him in the present or future. He felt humiliated, guilty,weary of life. His self-respect was trampled under foot, love andhappiness were forfeited, there was naught before him save a colorless,charmless future, full of bitterness and mental anguish. Nothing seemeddesirable save a speedy death. At times the fair image of his homerose before his memory--but it vanished as soon as he recalled theburgomaster's dignified figure, his own miserable weakness and therepulse he had experienced. He was full of fierce indignation againsthimself, and longed with passionate impatience for the clash of swordsand roar of cannon, the savage struggle man to man.
Time passed without his perceiving it, but a torturing desire for foodbegan to torment the starving man. There were plenty of turnips piledagainst the wall, and he eat one after another, until he experiencedthe feeling of satiety he had so long lacked. Then he sat down on akneading-trough and considered how he could best get to the Beggars. Hedid not know his way, but woe betide those who ventured to oppose him.His arm and sword were good, and there were Spaniards enough at handwhom he could make feel the weight of both. His impatience began torise, and it seemed like a welcome diversion, when he heard stepsapproaching and a man's figure entered the house. He had stationedhimself by the wall with his sword between his folded arms, and nowshouted a loud "halt" to the new-comer.
The latter instantly drew his sword, and when Georg imperiously demandedwhat he wanted, replied in a boyish voice, but a proud, resolute tone:
"I ask you that question! I am in my father's house."
"Indeed!" replied the German smiling, for he had now recognized thespeaker's figure by the dim light. "Put up your sword. If you are youngMatanesse Van Wibisma, you have nothing to fear from me."
"I am. But what are you doing on our premises at night, sword in hand?"
"I'm warming the wall to my own satisfaction, or, if you want to knowthe truth, mounting guard."
"In our house?"
"Yes, Junker. There is some one up-stairs with your cousins, whowouldn't like to be surprised by the Spaniards. Go up. I know fromCaptain Van Duivenvoorde what a gallant young fellow you are."
"From Herr von Warmond?" asked Nicolas eagerly. "Tell me! what bringsyou here, and who are you?"
"One who is fighting for your liberty, a German, Georg von Dornburg."
"Oh, wait here, I entreat you. I'll come back directly. Do you knowwhether Fraulein Van Hoogstraten--"
"Up there," replied Georg, pointing towards the ceiling.
Nicolas sprang up the stairs in two or three bounds, called his cousin,and hastily told her that her father had had a severe fall from hishorse while hunting, and was lying dangerously ill. When Nicolas spoke
of Anna he had at first burst into a furious passion, but afterwardsvoluntarily requested him to tell him about her, and attempted toleave his bed to accompany him. He succeeded in doing so, but fell backfainting. When his father came early the next morning, she might tellhim that he, Nicolas, begged his forgiveness; he was about to do what hebelieved to be his duty.
He evaded Henrica's questions, and merely hastily enquired about Anna'shealth and the Leyden citizen, whom Georg had mentioned.
When he heard the name of the musician Wilhelm, he begged her to warnhim to depart in good time, and if possible in his company, then badeher a hurried farewell and ran down-stairs.
Wilhelm soon followed. Henrica accompanied him to the stairs to seeGeorg once more, but as soon as she heard his voice, turned defiantlyaway and went back to her sister.
The musician found Junker von Dornburg engaged in an eager conversationwith Nicolas.
"No, no, my boy," said the German cordially, "my way cannot be yours."
"I am seventeen years old."
"That's not it; you've just confronted me bravely, and you have a man'sstrength of will--but life ought still to bear flowers for you, ifsuch is God's will--you are going forth to fight sword-in-hand to wina worthy destiny of peace and prosperity, for yourself and your nativeland, in freedom--but I, I--give me your hand and promise--"
"My hand? There it is; but I must refuse the promise. With or withoutyou--I shall go to the Beggars!"
Georg gazed at the brave boy in delight, and asked gently:
"Is your mother living?"
"No."
"Then come. We shall probably both find what we seek with the Beggars."
Nicolas clasped the hand Georg offered, but Wilhelm approached theJunker, saying:
"I expected this from you, after what I saw at St. Peter's church andQuatgelat's tavern."
"You first opened my eyes," replied Nicolas. "Now come, we'll godirectly through the camp; they all know me."
In the road the boy pressed close to Georg, and in answer to his remarkthat he would be in a hard position towards his father, replied:
"I know it, and it causes me such pain--such pain.--But I can't help it.I won't suffer the word 'traitor' to cling to our name."
"Your cousin Matanesse, Herr von Riviere, is also devoted to the goodcause."
"But my father thinks differently. He has the courage to expect gooddeeds from the Spaniards. From the Spaniards! I've learned to knowthem during the last few months. A brave lad from Leyden, you knew himprobably by his nickname, Lowing, which he really deserved, was capturedby them in fair fight, and then--it makes me shudder even now when Ithink of it--they hung him up head downward, and tortured him to death.I was present, and not one word of theirs escaped my ears. Such oughtto be the fate of all Holland, country and people, that was what theywanted. And remarks like these can be heard every day. No abuse of usis too bad for them, and the King thinks like his soldiers. Let some oneelse endure to be the slave of a master, who tortures and despises us!My holy religion is eternal and indestructible. Even if it is hateful tomany of the Beggars, that shall not trouble me--if only they will helpbreak the Spanish chains." Amid such conversation they walked throughthe Castilian camp, where all lay buried in sleep. Then they reachedthat of the German troops, and here gay carousing was going on undermany a tent. At the end of the encampment a sutler and his wife werecollecting together the wares that remained unsold.
Wilhelm had walked silently behind the other two, for his heart wasdeeply stirred, joy and sorrow were striving for the mastery. He feltintoxicated with lofty, pure emotions, but suddenly checked hissteps before the sutler's stand and pointed to the pastry graduallydisappearing in a chest.
Hunger had become a serious, nay only too serious and mighty power,in the city beyond, and it was not at all surprising that Wilhelmapproached the venders, and with sparkling eyes bought their last hamand as much bread as they had left.
Nicolas laughed at the bundle he carried under his arm, but Georg said:
"You haven't yet looked want in the face, Junker. This bread is a remedyfor the most terrible disease." At the Hohenort Gate Georg orderedCaptain von Warmond to be waked, and introduced Nicolas to him as afuture Beggar. The captain congratulated the boy and offered him moneyto supply himself in Delft with whatever he needed, and defray hisexpenses during the first few weeks; but Nicolas rejected his wealthyfriend's offer, for a purse filled with gold coins hung at his girdle.A jeweller in the Hague had given them to him yesterday in payment forFraulein Van Hoogstraten's emerald ring.
Nicolas showed the captain his treasure, and then exclaimed:
"Now forward, Junker von Dornburg, I know where we shall find them; andyou, Captain Van Duivenvoorde, tell the burgomaster and Janus Dousa whathas become of me."