CHAPTER XXXII.
A week had elapsed since Henrica's flight, and with it a series of daysof severe privation. Maria knew from the musician, that young Matanessehad accompanied Georg, and that the latter was on his way to theBeggars. This was the right plan. The bubbling brook belonged tothe wild, rushing, mighty river. She wished him happiness, life andpleasure; but--strange--since the hour that she tore his verses, theremembrance of him had receded as far as in the day: before the approachof the Spaniards. Nay, after her hard-won conquest of herself and hisdeparture, a rare sense of happiness, amid all her cares and troubles,had taken possession of the young wife's heart. She had been cruel toherself, and the inner light of the clear diamond first gleamsforth with the right brilliancy, after it has endured the torture ofpolishing. She now felt with joyous gratitude, that she could look Peterfrankly in the eye, grant him love, and ask love in return. He scarcelyseemed to notice her and her management under the burden of his cares,but she felt, that many things she said and could do for him pleasedhim. The young wife did not suffer specially from the long famine, whileit caused Barbara pain and unstrung her vigorous frame. Amid so muchsuffering, she often sunk into despair before the cold hearth and emptypots, and no longer thought it worth while to plait her large cap andruffs. It was now Maria's turn to speak words of comfort, and remind herof her son, the Beggar captain, who would soon enter Leyden.
On the sixth of September the burgomaster's wife was returning home froman early walk. Autumn mists darkened the air, and the sea-breeze drovea fine, drizzling spray through the streets. The dripping trees hadlong since been robbed of their leaves, not by wind and storm, but bychildren and adults, who had carried the caterpillars' food to theirkitchens as precious vegetables.
At the Schagensteg Maria saw Adrian, and overtook him. The boy wassauntering idly along, counting aloud. The burgomaster's wife called tohim, and asked why he was not at school and what he was doing there.
"I'm counting," was the reply. "Now there are nine."
"Nine?"
"I've met nine dead bodies so far; the rector sent us home. MasterDirks is dead, and there were only thirteen of us to-day. There are somepeople bringing another one."
Maria drew her kerchief tighter and walked on. At her left hand stood atall, narrow house, in which lived a cobbler, a jovial man, over whosedoor were two inscriptions. One ran as follows:
"Here are shoes for sale, Round above and flat below; If David's foot they will not fit, Goliath's sure they'll suit, I know."
The other was:
"When through the desert roved the Jews, Their shoes for forty years they wore, Were the same custom now in use, 'Prentice would ne'er seek cobbler's door."
On the ridge of the lofty house was the stork's nest, now empty. Thered-billed guests did not usually set out on their journey to the southso early, and some were still in Leyden, standing on the roofs asif lost in thought. What could have become of the cobbler's belovedlodgers? At noon the day before, their host, who in March usuallyfastened the luck-bringing nest firmly with his own hands, had stolen upto the roof, and with his cross-bow shot first the little wife and thenthe husband. It was a hard task, and his wife sat weeping in the kitchenwhile the evil deed was done, but whoever is tormented by the fiercepangs of hunger and sees his dear ones dying of want, doesn't thinkof old affection and future good fortune, but seeks deliverance at thepresent time.
The storks had been sacrificed too late, for the cobbler's son, hisgrowing apprentice, had closed his eyes the night before for his eternalsleep. Loud lamentations reached Maria's ear from the open door of theshop, and Adrian said: "Jacob is dead, and Mabel is very sick. Thismorning their father cursed me on father's account, saying it was hisfault that everything was going to destruction. Will there be no breadagain to-day, mother? Barbara has some biscuit, and I feel so sick. Ican't swallow the everlasting meal any longer."
"Perhaps there will be a slice. We must save the baked food, child."
In the entry of her house Maria found a man-servant, clad in black. Hehad come to announce the death of Commissioner Dietrich Van Bronkhorst.The plague had ended the strong man's life on the evening of the daybefore, Sunday.
Maria already knew of this heavy loss, which threw the wholeresponsibility of everything, that now happened, upon her husband'sshoulders. She had also learned that a letter had been received fromValdez, in which he had pledged his word of honor as a nobleman, tospare the city, if it would surrender itself to the king's "mercy," andespecially to grant Burgomaster Van der Werff, Herr Van der Does, andthe other supporters of the rebellion, free passage through the Spanishlines. The Castilians would retire and Leyden should be garrisoned onlyby a few German troops. He invited Van der Werff and Herr von Nordwykto come to Leyderdorp as ambassadors, and in any case, even if thenegotiations failed, agreed to send them home uninjured under a safeescort. Maria knew that her husband had appointed that day for a greatassembly of the council, the magistrates, and all the principal men inthe city, as well as the captains of the city-guard--but not a word ofall this had reached her ears from Peter. She had heard the news fromFrail Van Hout and the wives of other citizens.
During the last few days a great change had taken place in her husband.He went out and returned with a pallid, gloomy face. Taciturn andwasting away with anxiety, he withdrew from the members of his familyeven when at home, repelling his wife curtly and impatiently when,yielding to the impulse of her heart, she approached him withencouraging words. Night brought him no sleep, and he left his couchbefore morning dawned, to pace restlessly to and fro, or gaze at Bessie,who to him alone still tried to show recognition by a faint smile.
When Maria returned home, she instantly went to the child and foundDoctor Bontius with her. The physician shook his head at her appearance,and said the delicate little creature's life would soon be over. Herstomach had been injured during the first months of want; now it refusedto do its office, and to hope for recovery would be folly.
"She must live, she must not die!" cried Maria, frantic with grief andyet full of hope, like a true mother, who cannot grasp the thoughtthat she is condemned to lose her child, even when the little heart isalready ceasing to beat and the bright eyes are growing dim and closing."Bessie, Bessie, look at me! Bessie, take this nice milk. Only a fewdrops! Bessie, Bessie, you must not die."
Peter had entered the room unobserved and heard the last words. Holdinghis breath, he gazed down at his darling, his broad shoulders shook, andin a stifled, faltering voice he asked the physician: "Must she die?"
"Yes, old friend; I think so! Hold up your head! You have much stillleft you. All five of Van Loo's children have died of the plague."
Peter shuddered, and without taking any notice of Maria, passed from theroom with drooping head. Bontius followed him into his study, laid hishand on his arm, and said:
"Our little remnant of life is made bitter to us, Peter. Barbara says acorpse was laid before your door early this morning."
"Yes. When I went out, the livid face offered me a morning greeting.It was a young person. All whom death mows down, the people lay to mycharge. Wherever one looks--corpses! Whatever one hears--curses! Have Iauthority over so many lives? Day and night nothing but sorrow and deathbefore my eyes;--and yet, yet, yet--oh God! save me from madness!"
Peter clasped both hands over his brow; but Bontius found no word ofcomfort, and merely exclaimed: "And I, and I? My wife and child ill witha fever, day and night on my feet, not to cure, but to see people die.What has been learned by hard study becomes childish folly in thesedays, and yet the poor creatures utter a sigh of hope when I feel theirpulses. But this can't go on, this can't go on. Day before yesterdayseventy, yesterday eighty-six deaths, and among them two of mycolleagues."
"And no prospect of improvement?"
"To-morrow the ninety will become a hundred--the one hundred will becometwo, three, four, five, until at last one individual will be left, forwhom there wi
ll be no grave-digger."
"The pest-houses are closed, and we still have cattle and horses."
"But the pestilence creeps through the joints, and since the last loafof bread and the last malt-cake have been divided, and there is nothingfor the people to eat except meat, meat, and nothing else--one tinypiece for the whole day--disease is piled on disease in forms utterlyunprecedented, of which no book speaks, for which no remedy has yet beendiscovered. This drawing water with a bottomless pitcher is beginning tobe too much for me. My brain is no stronger than yours. Farewell untilto-morrow."
"To-day, to-day! You are coming to the meeting at the town-hall?"
"Certainly not! Do what you can justify; I shall practise my profession,which now means the same thing as saying: 'I shall continue to closeeyes and hold coroner's inquests.' If things go on so, there will soonbe an end to practice."
"Once for all: if you were in my place, you would treat with Valdez?"
"In your place? I am not you; I am a physician, one who has nothingto do except to take the field against suffering and death. You, sinceBronkhorst's death, are the providence of the city. Supply a bit ofbread, if only as large as my hand, in addition to the meat, or--I lovemy native land and liberty as well as any one--or--"
"Or?"
"Or--leave Death to reap his harvest, you are no physician."
Bontius bade his friend farewell and left him, but Peter thrust hishand through his hair and stood gazing out of the window, until Barbaraentered, laid his official costume on a chair and asked with feignedcarelessness:
"May I give Adrian some of the last biscuit? Meat is repulsive to him.He's lying on the bed, writhing in pain."
Peter turned pale, and said in a hollow tone: "Give it to him and callthe doctor. Maria and Bontius are already with him." The burgomasterchanged his clothing, feeling a thrill of fierce indignation againstevery article he put on. To-day the superb costume was as hateful to himas the office, which gave him the right to wear it, and which, untila few weeks ago, he had occupied with a joyous sense of confidence inhimself.
Before leaving the house, he sought Adrian. The boy was lying inBarbara's room, complaining of violent pains, and asking if he must dietoo.
Peter shook his head, but Maria kissed him, exclaiming:
"No, certainly not."
The burgomaster's time was limited. His wife stopped him in the entry,but he hurried down-stairs without hearing what she called after him.
The young wife returned to Adrian's bedside, thinking anxiously of thespeedy death of many comrades of the dear boy, whose damp hand restedin hers. She thought of Bessie, followed Peter in imagination to thetown-hall, and heard his powerful voice contending for resistance to thelast man and the last pound of meat; nay, she could place herself byhis side, for she knew what was to come: To stand fast, stand fast forliberty, and if God so willed, die a martyr's death for it like Jacoba,Leonhard, and Peter's noble father.
One anxious hour followed another.
When Adrian began to feel better, she went to Bessie, who pale andinanimate, seemed to be gently fading away, and only now and then raisedher little finger to play with her dry lips.
Oh, the pretty, withering human flower! How closely the little girlhad grown into her heart, how impossible it seemed to give her up!With tearful eyes, she pressed her forehead on her clasped hands, whichrested on the head-board of the little bed, and fervently implored Godto spare and save this child. Again and again she repeated the prayer,but when Bessie's dim eyes no longer met hers and her hands fell intoher lap, she could not help thinking of Peter, the assembly, the fate ofthe city, and the words: "Leyden saved, Holland saved! Leyden lost, allis lost!"
So the hours passed until the gloomy day were away into twilight, andtwilight was followed by evening. Trautchen brought in the lamp, and atlast Peter's step was heard on the stairs.
It must be he, and yet it was not, for he never came up with such slowand dragging feet.
Then the study door opened.
It was he!
What could have happened, what had the citizens determined?
With an anxious heart, she told Trautchen to stay with the child, andthen went to her husband.
Peter sat at the writing-table in full official uniform, with his hatstill on his head. His face lay buried on his folded arms, beside thesconce.
He saw nothing, heard nothing, and when she at last called him, started,sprang up and flung his hat violently on the table. His hair wasdishevelled, his glance restless, and in the faint light of theglimmering candles his cheeks looked deadly pale.
"What do you want?" he asked curtly, in a harsh voice; but for a timeMaria made no reply, fear paralyzed her tongue.
At last she found words, and deep anxiety was apparent in her question:
"What has happened?"
"The beginning of the end," he answered in a hollow tone.
"They have out-voted you?" cried the young wife. "Baersdorp and theother cowards want to negotiate?"
Peter drew himself up to his full height, and exclaimed in a loud,threatening tone:
"Guard your tongue! He who remains steadfast until his children dieand corpses bar the way in front of his own house, he who bears theresponsibility of a thousand deaths, endures curses and imprecationsthrough long weeks, and has vainly hoped for deliverance during morethan a third of a year--he who, wherever he looks, sees nothing saveunprecedented, constantly increasing misery and then no longer repelsthe saving hand of the foe--"
"Is a coward, a traitor, who breaks the sacred oath he has sworn."
"Maria," cried Peter angrily, approaching with a threatening gesture.
She drew her slender figure up to its full height and with quickenedbreath awaited him, pointing her finger at him, as she exclaimed with asharp tone perceptible through the slight tremor in her voice:
"You, you have voted with the Baersdorps, you, Peter Van der Werff!You have done this thing, you, the friend of the Prince, the shield andprovidence of this brave city, you, the man who received the oaths ofthe citizens, the martyr's son, the servant of liberty--"
"No more!" he interrupted, trembling with shame and rage. "Do you knowwhat it is to bear the guilt of this most terrible suffering before Godand men?"
"Yes, yes, thrice yes; it is laying one's heart on the rack, to saveHolland and liberty. That is what it means! Oh, God, my God! You arelost! You intend to negotiate with Valdez!"
"And suppose I do?" asked the burgomaster, with an angry gesture.
Maria looked him sternly in the eye, and exclaimed in a loud, resolutetone:
"Then it will be my turn to say: Go to Delft; we need different menhere."
The burgomaster turned pale and bent his eyes on the floor, while shefearlessly confronted him with a steady glance.
The light fell full upon her glowing face, and when Peter again raisedhis eyes, it seemed as if the same Maria stood before him, who as abride had vowed to share trouble and peril with him, remain steadfast inthe struggle for liberty to the end; he felt that his "child" Maria hadgrown to his own height and above him, recognized for the first time inthe proud woman before him his companion in conflict, his high-heartedhelper in distress and danger. An overmastering yearning, mightier thanany emotion ever experienced before, surged through his soul, impelledhim towards her, and found utterance in the words:
"Maria, Maria, my wife, my guardian angel! We have written to Valdez,but there is still time,--nothing binds me yet, and with you, with you Iwill stand firm to the end."
Then, in the midst of these days of woe, she threw herself on hisbreast, crying aloud in the abundance of this new, unexpected,unutterable happiness:
"With you, one with you--forever, unto death, in conflict and in love!"