In like manner a cortege had been formed round the bride-elect: she wassupported on either side by her father and by don Alberic del Rio, hismost intimate friend, and around her were many Spanish seigniors of highrank, amongst whom the Archbishop of Sorrento, who was on a visit toBrussels, and don Gonzalo de Bracamonte, commanding the Governor'sbodyguard, were the most noteworthy.
A tense silence hung over the large and brilliant assembly, only thefrou-frou of brocaded gowns, the flutter of fans, and up above in thevaulted roof the waving of banners in the breeze broke that impressivehush which invariably precedes the accomplishment of something momentousand irrevocable.
And now the High Bailiff began to speak in accordance with thetime-honoured tradition of his people--wilfully oblivious of the sneers,the sarcastic smiles, the supercilious glances which were so conspicuousin the swarthy faces of the Spanish grandees opposite to him.
"It is my purpose, senor," he began solemnly, and speaking directly todon Juan de Vargas, "to ask that you do give your daughter in wedlock tomy son."
And don Juan de Vargas gave answer with equal solemnity:
"Before acceding to your request, Messire," he said, "I demand to knowwhether your son is an honourable man and possessed of goods sufficientto ensure that my daughter continue to live as she hath done hitherto,in a manner befitting her rank."
"My son Mark, senor," thereupon rejoined the High-Bailiff, "is possessedof ten thousand ducats in gold, of twelve horses and of one half-sharein the fleet of trading vessels belonging to me, which carry the produceof Flemish farms and of Flemish silk-looms to the ports of France, ofItaly and of England. Moreover, six months after my son's marriage Iwill buy him a house in the St. Bavon quarter of this city, and somefurniture to put into it so that he may live independently therein andin a manner befitting his rank."
"My daughter, Messire," resumed de Vargas still with the same gravesolemnity, "is possessed of five thousand ducats and of the prestigeattached to her name, which next to that of the Lieutenant-Governorhimself hath more power than any other name in this land."
The chief sheriff now spoke:
"And on the day of the marriage of Messire van Rycke," he said, "withthe bride whom he hath chosen, I will give him sixteen goblets of silverand four silver tankards."
"And on the day of the marriage of donna Lenora de Vargas with thebridegroom chosen for her by her father," said don Alberic del Rio, "Iwill give her a girdle of gold, a necklace of pearls and three rings setwith diamonds and rubies."
"I will give the bridegroom two silver dishes and four gold saltcellars," came in solemn fashion from young Count Mansfeld.
"To the bride I will give two gold bracelets and a rosary speciallyblessed by His Holiness," announced the Archbishop of Sorrento.
"To the bridegroom I will give two gold dishes and four silver spoons,"said the seigneur de Beauvoir.
"To the bride I will give a statue of Our Lady wrought in ivory, and twosilken carpets from Persia," said don Gonzalo de Bracamonte.
Whereupon the High-Bailiff spoke once more:
"My son Mark hath two hundred and twenty friends and kindred each ofwhom will present him with a suitable wedding gift."
"My daughter will have a gift from our Sovereign Lord the King, from theGovernor of the Provinces and from the Lieutenant-Governor, and fromfifteen Spanish grandees, three of whom are Knights of the GoldenFleece."
"Wherefore, O noble seignior," continued the High-Bailiff, "I do ask youto give your daughter to my son for wife."
"Which request I do grant you, Messire," said de Vargas, "and herewithmake acceptance on my daughter's behalf, of your son Mark to be herhusband and guardian."
Don Gonzalo de Bracamonte now handed him a drawn sword, a hat, a ringand a mantle: de Vargas holding the sword upright, placed the hat on thetip of the blade and hung the ring upon a projecting ornament of thehilt. This together with the mantle and a piece of silver he thenhanded over to Mark, saying:
"With these emblems I hereby hand over to you the custody of mydaughter, and as I have been her faithful custodian in the past, so do Idesire you to become her guardian and protector henceforth, takingcharge of her worldly possessions and duly administering them honourablyand loyally."
In the meanwhile the chief sheriff had in similar manner given Markseven gloves: these the young man now handed to senor de Vargas inexchange for the emblems of his own marital authority, and saying thewhile:
"I accept the trust and guardianship of your daughter Lenora which youhave imposed upon me, and herewith I plight you my troth that I willhenceforth administer her worldly possessions both honourably andloyally."
With this the quaint ceremonial came to an end. The Spanish seigniorsvery obviously drew deep sighs of relief. The Archbishop and don Gonzaloas well as de Vargas himself had studied their parts carefully, for theLieutenant-Governor had expressly desired that the betrothal should bedone with all the formalities and ceremonies which the custom of theNetherlands demanded. All three seigniors had chafed at this irksometask--they found torrents of ridicule to pour upon the loutishNetherlanders and their vulgar and unseemly habits; but the Duke wasfirm, and obedience was obligatory. Lenora had, of course, not beenconsulted on the subject; she was just the sad little bundle of goodswhich was being bargained for, for the furtherance of politicalintrigues, together with her five thousand ducats, her golden girdle androsary specially blessed by the Pope. She stood by while the solemnbargaining was going on, the centre of the group--a pathetic youngfigure in her white gown, a curious flush--maybe of shame--upon hercheeks. But at last it was over and de Vargas now turned to hisdaughter.
"Lenora," he said, "this is Mark, the son of the High-Bailiff of Ghent;the alliance which you are about to contract with him is a source ofgreat satisfaction to me."
Mark in the meanwhile had stood by--quite impassive and seeminglyindifferent--while the ceremony of betrothal was taking place. Therewas nothing new to him in the solemn speeches delivered by his fatherand his friends, nor in those which the Spanish seigniors had learned soglibly by heart; he had more than once been present at the betrothal ofone or other of his friends, and these customs and ceremonials were asfamiliar, as sacred to him, perhaps, as the divine service of hisChurch. Now at de Vargas' last words he advanced, with back bent,nearer to his beautiful fiancee. He had refrained from looking on herwhile his worldly goods and hers were being thus proclaimed in loudtones by their respective friends, because he felt that she--being atotal stranger--must find his country's custom either ridiculous orirksome.
But now when he straightened out his tall figure, he suddenly sought hereyes, and seemed to compel her glance by the very intentness of his own.
"Give Messire van Rycke your hand, Lenora," commanded de Vargas.
And the girl--obediently and mechanically--stretched out her small,white hand and Mark van Rycke touched her finger tips with his lips.
Every one noticed how closely senor de Vargas had watched his daughterall the while that the formal ceremony of betrothal was taking place,and that, as soon as donna Lenora had extended her hand to Messire vanRycke a smile of intense satisfaction became apparent round the cornersof his mouth.
"And now, Messire," he said solemnly, and turning once more to thebridegroom-elect, "it is my pleasant duty to apprise you that ourSovereign Lord and King hath himself desired that I should be hismouthpiece in wishing you lasting happiness.
"I thank you, Messire," said Mark van Rycke quietly.
"As you know," continued de Vargas speaking with paternal benevolence,"it is the Lieutenant-Governor's earnest wish that we should hasten thewedding. He himself hath graciously fixed this day sennight for thereligious ceremony--the festival day of Our Lady of Victory--a great andsolemn occasion, Messire," he continued unctuously, "which will sanctifyyour union with my daughter and confer on it an additional blessing."
"As His Highness commands," rejoined Mark somewhat impatiently.
He had made several efforts to
meet his beautiful bride's glance again,but she kept her eyes steadily averted from his now.
Truly so cold and unemotional a bride was enough to put any bridegroomout of patience. No doubt had Laurence van Rycke stood there instead ofMark there might have been enacted a little scene of ill-temper whichwould have disturbed don Juan de Vargas' unctuous manner. But Mark tookit all as a matter of course: he looked supremely indifferent and morethan a little bored whilst his prospective father-in-law deliveredhimself of all these urbane speeches. He had obviously been deeplystruck at first by donna Lenora's exquisite beauty, but now the effectof this pleasing surprise had worn off, he looked down on her with coolindifference, whilst a little smile of irony became more and moreaccentuated round his lips. But the High-Bailiff appeared overjoyed;his flat, Flemish face gradually broadened into a huge, complacentsmile, he leaned on the arm of his son with easy familiarity and everyone felt that--had senor de Vargas demanded such a token of gratitudeand loyalty--Mynheer Charles van Rycke would have laid down on the floorand licked the dust from Monseigneur's slashed shoes.
III
At last the interminable ceremony of betrothal was over and donna Lenorawas given a little breathing time from the formal etiquette whichsurrounded her father whenever he represented the Lieutenant-Governor,and which oppressed this poor young girl physically like the stiffcorslet which she wore.
She looked around her a little wistfully: her father was busy conversingwith the High-Bailiff, no doubt on matters connected with the respectivemarriage-jointures: all around in the magnificent hall, under the highroof emblazoned and decorated with the arms of the city and the bannersof the city guilds, a noisy throng, gaily dressed, pressed, jostled andchattered. The ladies of Ghent--somewhat unwieldy of figure and withnone of the highly-trained aesthetic taste of Spanish civilisation--haddecked themselves out in finery which was more remarkable for itsgorgeousness than for harmony of colour.
The lateness of the season had proved an excuse for wearing the richvelvets and brocades imported from Italy, cloth of gold heavilyembroidered, stomachers wrought in tinsel threads and pearls, hoopedpetticoats and monster farthingales moved before donna Lenora's pensiveeyes like a kaleidoscope of many colours, brilliant and dazzling. Thedeep window embrasures each held a living picture grouped against therich background of heavy velvet curtains or exquisite carved panelling;men and women in bright crimson, or yellow or green, the gorgeousliveries of one or other of the civic corporations, the uniforms of theguild-militia, the robes of the sheriffs and the wardmasters, all lookedlike a crowd of gaily plumaged birds, with here and there the richtrenchant note of a black velvet tunic worn by a member of one of thelearned bodies, or the purple satin doublet of a Spanish grandee. TheFlemish bourgeoisie and patriciate kept very much to itself--the womeneyeing with some disfavour the stiff demeanour and sombre clothes of theSpaniards who remained grouped around the person of don Juan de Vargas.There was also the element of fear, never far distant when the Spanishofficers of State were present. They personified to all these peoplethe tyranny of Spain--the yoke of slavery which would never again belifted from the land. The Netherlanders feared their masters, and manycringed and fawned before them, but they never mixed with them; theyheld themselves entirely aloof.
There were no Spanish ladies here. The Duchess of Alva was not inFlanders, the grandees and officers of Alva's army had left their wivesand daughters at home in Arragon or Castile; the stay in these dour andunsympathetic Low Countries was always something of a punishment tothese sons and daughters of the South, who hated the grey skies, thenorth-easterly winds and perpetual rains.
Thus donna Lenora found herself strangely isolated. The Flemish ladiesbanded themselves in groups, they chatted together, whispered and mademerry, but the Spanish girl who had stood in high honour beside theLieutenant-Governor's representative was not one of themselves. She wasslim and tall and graceful, she was dressed in simple white; above all,she belonged to the ruling caste, and though many a kind-hearted Flemishvrouw pitied her in her loneliness, not one of them thought of going tospeak to her.
Donna Lenora sighed and her eyes filled with tears--with tears notaltogether of sorrow, but also of self-pity mingled with bitterresentment. Even the company of her future husband might have beenacceptable at this moment, when she felt so very lonely.
But Mark van Rycke was no longer nigh.
IV
Then suddenly her face lit up with joy, the colour rushed to her cheeks,and her lips parted in a smile.
She had just espied in the brilliant throng, one no less brilliantfigure which was slowly pushing its way through the crowd in herdirection.
"Ramon," she whispered, as soon as the young man was quite close to her,"I didn't know you were here."
"His Highness," he replied, "has given me command of the garrison here;I arrived last night with my regiment."
"But where are your lodgings?"
"At the house of those thrice accursed van Ryckes," he muttered with anoath. "The billeting was arranged without my knowledge, and of course Iand my men leave those quarters to-morrow. Every morsel I eat in thathouse seems to choke me."
"Poor Ramon!" she whispered with tender pity. "I too have beenunutterably wretched since I saw you in Brussels."
"I couldn't communicate with you again, sweetheart--and this to my greatgrief--but I was bundled out of Brussels like a bale of goods, and hereI am! Imagine my joy when I realised that I should see you to-night."
"Hush!" she murmured quickly, for with a quick impulse he had seized herhand and was pressing it to his lips. "My father can see us."
"What matter if he do," retorted don Ramon. "He has taken you from me,but he cannot kill my love ... our love, Lenora," he added withpassionate ardour--an ardour in which he himself believed for themoment, since he loved Lenora and she was so exquisite, in herstateliness, her white gown and that casque of golden hair upon herhead.
"You must not say that, Ramon," she said with earnestness that was farmore real than his, "you must try and help me ... and not make mysacrifice altogether unbearable. It has been terrible," she added, anda curious, haunted look came into her eyes.
"It has been the most damnable thing that has ever been done on thisearth, Lenora. When I arrived in this accursed city last night andquartered myself and some of my men in the house of the High-Bailiff, Iwould gladly have put the whole accursed family to the sword. There isno limit to my hatred of them--and of all those who stand between me andyour love. I have hated your father, Lenora, ever since he partedus.... I have hated Alva! God help me! I have hated even the King!"
Ramon spoke in a low, hoarse murmur, inaudible to every one save to theshell-like ear for which it was intended. With irresistible force hehad drawn Lenora's arm through his own, and had led her--much againsther will--into one of the deep window embrasures, where heavy curtainsof Utrecht velvet masked them both from view. He pressed her to sit onone of the low window seats, and through the soft-toned stained glassthe dim light of the moon came peeping in and threw ghostlike glimmersupon the tendrils of her hair, even whilst the ruddy lights of thecandles played upon her face and her white gown. For the first timeto-night the young man realised all that he had lost and how infinitelydesirable was the woman whom he had so airily given up without a fight.He cursed himself for his cowardice, even though he knew that he neverwould have the courage to dare defiance for her sake.
"Lenora," he said, with passionate intensity, "ever since your fatherand the Duke of Alva made me understand that they were taking you awayfrom me, I have been wondering if it was humanly possible for any manwho has known you as I have done, who has loved you as I love you still,to give you up to another."
"It has to be, Ramon," she said gently. "Oh! you must not think that Ihave not thought and fought--thought of what was my duty--fought for myhappiness. Now," she added with a little sigh of weariness, "I cannotfight any more. My father
, the Duke of Alva, the King himself in apersonal letter to me, have told me where my duty lies. My confessorwould withhold absolution from me if I refused to obey. My King andcountry and the Church have need of me it seems: what is my happinessworth if weighed in the balance of my country's service?"
"You are so unfitted for that sort of work," he murmured sullenly, "theywill make of you something a little better than a spy in the house ofthe High-Bailiff of Ghent."
"That is the only thing which troubles me," she said. "I feel as if Iwere doing something mean and underhand. I shall marry a man whom I cannever love, who belongs to a race that has always been inimical toSpain. My husband will hate all those whom I love. He will hateeverything that I have always honoured and cherished--my King, mycountry, the glory and grandeur of Spain. He will rebel against herlaws which I know to be beneficent even though they seem harsh and evencruel at times. A Netherlander can never have anything in common with aSpaniard...."
"Oh! they'd murder us if they could," the young man rejoined with acareless shrug of the shoulders, "but only in the dark streets or frombehind a hedge."
"The King is very angry with them, I know; he declared that he would notcome to the Netherlands until there is not a single rebel or hereticwithin its shores."
"The terms are synonymous," he retorted lightly, "and I fear that HisMajesty will never grace this abominable country with his presence, ifhis resolution holds good. They are a stiff-necked crowd, theseNetherlanders--Catholics and heretics, they are all rebels--but theheretics are the worst."