AT THE GOLDEN SUN.
'So--so! this Scottish adventurer stands between me and the girl I
love; between me and my own flesh and blood; more than all, between
me and the fortune of Dolores!' muttered Morganstjern--himself a
penniless adventurer and knave to boot, as he strode through the
streets with his left hand in the hilt of his sword and his right
tightly clenched. 'I have a right to hate and dread him--the right
to remove him, too, by fair means or foul!'
The latter were the only means he could think of, as he had a
wholesome dread of Lewie Baronald's skill with his sword, and the
bucks of the Scots Brigade were not wont to stand on trifles when
they resorted to that weapon; and in this mood of mind he rejoined
his friend the Heer van Schrekhorn, whom he found at an estaminet
called the _Gond Zon_, or 'Golden Sun,' in a narrow and gloomy street
near the Klooster Kerk.
There he found him seated in a quiet corner, smoking, drinking
schiedam and water, while intently studying some profitable and
useful gambling tricks with a pack of not overclean cards.
'I have just been trying some ruses or tricks at lansquenet,' said
he, as the tapster brought fresh glasses and more liquor; 'it is the
grandest of old gambling games, like those that are of French origin.
Look here, to begin with: the cards being shuffled by the dealer, and
cut by one of the party, two are dealt out and turned up on the left
hand of the dealer, _so_; he then takes one and places a fourth, the
_réjouissance_ card, in the middle of the table, _so_. On this----'
'Enough of this, Van Schrekhorn,' said Morganstjern impatiently. 'I
did not come here to be taught lansquenet,' he added, as he threw his
sword, hat, and gloves on a side-table, and flung himself wearily
into a chair.
'Oh--so you have just come from the house of _la belle_ Dolores?'
'Yes,' replied the other with an imprecation.
'And left her well and happy, I hope?' said the Heer mockingly.
I left her with that fellow of the Scots Brigade.'
''Sdeath! the more fool you. Why not keep your ground? Were you not
there before him?'
'Yes, and did my best to win her favour--even her mere regard.'
'In vain?'
'As usual. In fact, I think these two are affianced--or nearly so.
I never so bestirred myself about a woman before,' said Morganstjern,
as he drank at a draught a crystal goblet of schiedam and water, and
refilled it.
'How is the Countess affected towards you?'
'But indifferently. Indeed, she only tolerates me as a kinsman, and,
I suppose, has encouraged or permitted Baronald's addresses to her
daughter, because he is the heir of General Kinloch, while I am heir
to that only of which nothing can deprive me.'
'And that is?'
'A grave--six feet of earth,' replied Morganstjern, grinding his
teeth unpleasantly.
'Come--you have always the guilders you win at roulette.'
'Because they are so won, there is the greater necessity that I
should have those of my cousin Dolores.'
'Which also reminds me that you owe me a good sum of money--cash
lent, and lost at play.'
'Why the devil remind me of that just now?' replied, or rather asked,
Morganstjern, savagely; and then for a little time the two smoked
moodily in silence.
The would-be lover of Dolores had long been subjected to a run of
evil fortune at the gaming-table. 'So long as there is the beacon of
hope,' says a writer, 'life is able to show up a gleam now and then
of rose-colour; but when adverse circumstances render any change
_impossible_, life becomes intolerable.' And to this verge of
desperation had Maurice Morganstjern come.
It was a source of keen irritation to him, to find that his
rival--favoured by the Countess--could be with Dolores daily, while
he--her cousin--could only visit her at stated times; and that all
the advances he made to her seemed utterly futile and hopeless now.
'Nearly penniless as I am, Schrekhorn,' said he; 'I might have waited
patiently, but have never had a gleam of hope.'
'If you waited a hundred years, it would be all the same, while she
is under the influence of this fellow's voice, eye, and society.'
'What would you have me do?'
'Remove him, or remove her!' replied Schrekhorn with a fierce Dutch
oath.
'More easily said than done. With her money, by the henckers! how I
should enjoy myself all day long and do nothing!'
'About all you ever cared to do,' rejoined his friend, who was rather
disposed to treat him mockingly.
'Don't attempt to act my Mentor.'
'Why?'
'Because I should make but a sorry Telemachus.'
'Then it seems all a settled thing between them!'
'What?'
'How dull you are! Marriage?'
'Ach Gott! it looks like it.'
'Then you have been a trifle late of taking the field?'
'Nay,' replied Morganstjern, smoking his meerschaum with vicious
energy. 'I was the first, but when this fellow Baronald came, I
found myself instantly at a discount.'
'Jilted--eh?'
'Nay, I was never on such a footing with her that she could treat me
so, because she was ever utterly indifferent.'
'Then it is too late for fair means now, but not for foul.'
Then, after a pause, the Heer said in his mocking tone;
'If money is your object, and you openly avow that it is so, why not
propose to the mother, if the daughter won't have you? She is rich
enough and certainly handsome enough, and only some fifteen years
older than yourself. She is a widow, and all the world knows how
easily widows are won. 'Sblood! cut in for her, and leave the girl
to the Scot.'
Morganstjern thought for a minute, and then uttering one of his
imprecations, added:
'No--_no_--NO! I shall be thwarted by no man!'
'Right!' exclaimed the other; 'I like this spirit--give me your hand.'
'This infernal Scots Brigade has married at the Hague and Amsterdam
more than fifty Dutch girls within the last few years, and all of
them rich.'
'Der Duyvel!'
'Many of them girls of the first rank.'
'Thousand duyvels!' said the Heer with a mocking laugh.
'Is it not enough that these Scots--the Bulwark of the Republic as
they boast themselves----'
'And have done so since the old siege of Bois-le-Duc--well?' asked
the Heer.
'Is it not enough, I say, that they should assume our glory in war,
and win our guilders in peace, but they must carry off our prettiest
girls too?'
'They do not assume your glory, but win their own,' said the Heer,
who had some contempt for his companion; 'their guilders have been
hardly won on many a Dutch and Flemish battlefield; and if the pretty
girls of Haarlem and the Hague prefer them to Walloons, they are
right.'
Morganstjern's brow grew black.
'I am no Walloon,' said he, huskily.
'I did not say so,' said Van Schrekhorn; then he added, 'I have some
news for you, and a hint to make thereon. Dolores van Renslaer is to
be at the ridotto given by the wife of the Sixe van Otterbeck, the
Minister of State, on the night after next.'
'That I know, and of course this pestilent Scot will be there too.'
'No; on that night he is on duty at the Palace of the Prince of
Orange.'
'Well--what about all this?'
'Listen,' said Van Schrekhorn, leaning forward on the table and
lowering his voice almost to a whisper, while the colour in his
bloated visage deepened, and an expression of intense cunning stole
into his watery bloodshot eyes: 'let us carry her off as her sedan
bears her from the ridotto!'
'To where?'
'Listen. I know a skipper whose ship is now in the Maese, and almost
ready to sail for the coast of France. She is anchored off Maesluis
now; let us once get her on board and the Hoek van Holland will soon
be left astern, and the girl your own, unless you are a greater fool
than I think you.'
Morganstjern made no immediate reply, so his tempter spoke again.
'Once on board that ship, her honour will be compromised, and
marriage alone can restore it. Let her be once on board that ship
with you, I say, and she cannot be so blind as not to see that she
will have gone a great deal too far to draw back.'
'Right!' exclaimed Morganstjern, as a glance of triumph came into his
eyes. 'I have a political mission to France, and it will be supposed
that she has eloped with me, and befooled the Scot Baronald. With
all her contempt and scorn of me, she little knows that her fate is
to become my wife--my wife--_mine_! Once that, and then let her look
to herself!' he added as a savage expression mingled with the triumph
that sparkled in his shifty eyes, and he smote the table with his
clenched hand.
'The distance from the Hague to Maesluis is only eleven miles--a few
pipes, as the people say,' resumed Schrekhorn; 'my friend shall have
a boat waiting us at a quiet spot among the willows that fringe the
shore, near a deserted windmill on the river-bank; and then we shall
take her on board. Once under hatches, her fate will soon be sealed.'
'How can I thank you?'
'By refunding what you owe me out of the guilders of Dolores,'
replied the Heer, as he and Morganstjern shook hands again; but the
latter became silent for a time.
He knew the Heer van Schrekhorn to be a rascal capable of committing
any outrage, and also that he had personally a special grudge at
Lewie Baronald. Dolores was beautiful. What if this scheme so
speciously arranged, was one for his own behoof, to carry her off,
leaving the onus of the abduction on the shoulders of
him--Morganstjern--after passing a sword through his body among the
willows near the old mill on the Maese.
But this grave suspicion was only a passing thought, and he thrust it
aside.
'This may preclude your return for some time, and compromise you with
the authorities,' said the Heer.
'Their reign will soon be over; and when a French army comes to the
assistance of the Dutch patriots, the Prince of Orange may find
himself a fugitive in England.'
'But we must be wary; not for all the gold and silver bars in the
Bank of Amsterdam would I be in your shoes if we fail. The
Burgomasters are worse than the devil to face, and we may find
ourselves behind the grilles of the Gevangepoort or the Rasp-haus, as
brawlers.'
'A thousand duyvels!--fail? don't think of it.'
Had Maurice Morganstjern known the intentions of General Kinloch
towards his nephew, and the plans he had formed to separate him from
Dolores, he might have patiently awaited the events of the next few
days; but as he was ignorant of them, he and the malevolent Heer van
Schrekhorn laid all their plans for the abduction of the girl with
caution, confidence, and extreme deliberation, before they quitted
the Golden Sun that night.