On the afternoon of the sixteenth of May, Burgomaster Van der Werff’s
wife was examining chests and boxes. Her husband was at the town-hall,
but had told her that towards evening, the Prince’s commissioner, Herr
Dietrich Van Bronkhorst, the two Seigneurs von Nordwyk, the city clerk
Van Hout, and several other heads of municipal affairs and friends of
freedom would meet at his house for a confidential consultation. Maria
had the charge of providing the gentlemen with a nice collation, wine,
and many similar cares.
This invitation had a very cheering influence on the young wife. It
pleased her to be able to play the hostess, according to the meaning
of the word in her parents’ house. How long she had been debarred from
hearing any grave, earnest conversation. True, there had been no lack of
visitors: the friends and relatives of her husband’s family, who called
upon her and talked with Barbara, often begged her to come to their
houses; among them were many who showed themselves kindly disposed
and could not help respecting her worth, but not one to whom she was
attracted by any warm affection. Maria, whose life was certainly not
crowded with amusements, dreaded their coming, and when they did call,
endured their presence as an unavoidable evil. The worthy matrons were
all much older than herself and, while sitting over their cakes, stewed
fruit, and hippocras, knitting, spinning or netting, talked of the hard
times during the siege, of the cares of children and servants,
washing and soap-making, or subjected to a rigid scrutiny the numerous
incomprehensible and reprehensible acts other women were said to have
committed, to be committing, or to desire to commit, until Maria’s heart
grew heavy and her lonely room seemed to her a peaceful asylum.
She could find words only when the conversation turned upon the misery
of the country and the sacred duty of bearing every privation a second
time, if necessary for the freedom of the nation, and then she gladly
listened to the sturdy women, who evidently meant what they said; but
when the hours were filled with idle gossip, it caused her actual pain.
Yet she dared not avoid it and was obliged to wait until the departure
of the last acquaintance; for after she had ventured to retire early
several times, Barbara kindly warned her against it, not concealing that
she had had great difficulty in defending her against the reproach of
pride and incivility.
“Such chat,” said the widow, “is pleasant and strengthens the courage,
and whoever leaves the visitors while they are together, can pray the
Lord for a favorable report.”
One lady in Leyden pleased the burgomaster’s wife. This was the wife
of Herr Van Hout, the city clerk, but the latter rarely appeared in
company, for though a delicate, aristocratic-looking woman, she was
obliged to be busy from morning till night, to keep the children and
household in good order on a narrow income.
Maria felt brighter and happier than she had done for many days, as
she stood before the shelf that contained the table-furniture and the
cupboard where the silver was kept. All the handsome dishes belonging to
the house were bright and shining, free from every grain of dust, so too
were the white linen cloths, trimmed with lace. She selected what she
needed, but many of the pewter, glass, and silver articles did not
please her; for they did not match, and she found scratches and cracks
on numerous pieces.
When her mother had begun to prepare her wedding-outfit, Peter expressed
a desire that in these hard times the money should be kept and no
useless things purchased. There was an abundance of household articles
of every kind in his home, and he would have thought it wrong to buy
even a plate. In fact there was no lack of anything on the shelves
and cupboards, but she had not selected and bought them herself;
they belonged to her, but not entirely, and what was worse, her eyes,
accustomed to prettier things, could find no pleasure in these dull,
scratched pewter plates, these pitchers, cups and tankards painted in
coarse figures with glaring colors. The clumsy glass, too, did not suit
her taste, and, while looking it over and selecting what was necessary,
she could not help thinking of her recently-wedded friends, who, with
sparkling eyes, had showed her their spick-and-span new table-furniture
as proudly and happily, as if each piece had been their own work. But,
even with the articles she possessed, a table could be set very prettily
and daintily.
She had gone out with Adrian before dinner to cut some flowers in the
garden by the city wall, and also gathered some delicate grasses in the
meadow before the gate. These gifts of May were now tastefully arranged,
mixed with peacock-feathers, and placed in vases, and she was delighted
to see even the clumsiest dishes win a graceful aspect from the garlands
she twined around them. Adrian watched her in astonishment. He would
not have marvelled if, under her hands, the dark dining-room had been
transformed into a hall of mother-of-pearl and crystal.
When the table was laid, Peter returned home for a moment. He was going
to ride out to Valkenburg with Captain Allertssohn, Janus Dousa,
and other gentlemen, to inspect the fortifications before his guests
appeared. As he passed through the dining-room, he waved his hand to his
wife and glancing over the table, said:
“This decoration was not necessary, least of all the flowers. We
expect to hold a serious consultation, and you have arranged a
wedding-banquet.”
Perceiving that Maria cast down her eyes, he exclaimed kindly:
“But it can remain so for aught I care,” and left the room.
Maria stood irresolutely before her work. Bitter emotions were again
beginning to stir in her mind, and she was already extending her hand
defiantly towards one particularly beautiful vase, when Adrian raised
his large eyes to her face, exclaiming in a tone of earnest entreaty:
“No, mother, you mustn’t do that, it looks quite too pretty.”
Maria smiled, passed her hand over the boy’s curls, took two cakes from
a dish, gave them to him, and said:
“One for you, the other for Bessie; our flowers shall stay.”
Adrian hurried off with the sweet gifts, but Maria glanced over the
table once more, saying:
“Peter never wants anything but what is absolutely necessary; yet
that surely isn’t all, or God would have made all the birds with grey
feathers.”
After helping Barbara in the kitchen, she went to her own room. There
she arranged her hair, put a fresh, beautifully-starched ruff around her
neck and carefully-plaited lace in the open bosom of her dress, but wore
her every-day gown, for her husband did not wish to give the assembly at
his house a festal aspect.
Just as she had put the last gold pin in her hair, and was considering
whether the place of honor at the table belonged to Herr Van Bronkhorst,
as representative of the Prince, or to the older Herr von Nordwyk,
Trautchen knocked at the door and informed her, that Doctor Bontius
wished to see the burgomaster on urgent business. The maid-servant had
told the physician that her master had ridden out, but he would not be
put off, and asked permission to see her mistress.
Maria instantly went to Peter’s room. The doctor seemed to be in haste.
His only greeting was to point with the gold head of his long staff
towards the peaked black hat, that never left his head, even beside the
sickbed, and asked in a curt, hurried tone:
“When will Meister Peter come home?”
“In an hour,” replied Maria. “Sit down, Doctor.”
“Another time. It will keep me too long to wait for your husband. After
all, you can come with me even without his consent.”
“Certainly; but we are expecting visitors.”
“Yes. If I find time, I shall come too. The gentlemen can do without me,
but you are necessary to the sick person to whom I wish to take you.”
“I have no idea of whom you are speaking.”
“Haven’t you? Then once more, it is of some one who is suffering, and
that will be enough for you at first.”
“And you think I could--”
“You can do far more than you know. Barbara is attending to affairs in
the kitchen, and now I tell you again: You must help a sufferer.”
“But, Doctor--”
“I must beg you to hurry, for my time is limited. Do you wish to make
yourself useful; yes or no?” The door of the dining-room had remained
open. Maria again glanced at the table, and all the pleasures she had
anticipated this evening passed through her mind. But as the doctor was
preparing to go, she stopped him, saying:
“I will come.”
The manners of this blunt, but unselfish and clever man were familiar to
Maria who, without waiting for a reply, brought her shawl, and led
the way downstairs. As they passed by the kitchen, Bontius called to
Barbara:
“Tell Meister Peter, I have taken his wife to see Fraulein Van
Hoogstraten in Nobelstrasse.”
Maria could scarcely keep up with the doctor’s rapid strides and had
some difficulty in understanding him, as in broken sentences he told
her that all the Glipper friends of the Hoogstraten family had left the
city, the old Fraulein was dead, the servants had run away from fear of
the plague, which had no existence, and Henrica was now deserted. She
had been very ill with a severe fever, but was much better during the
past few days. “Misfortune has taken up its abode in the Glipper nest,”
he added. “The scythe-man did the old lady a favor when he took her. The
French maid, a feeble nonentity, held out bravely, but after watching
a few nights broke down entirely and was to have been carried to St.
Catharine’s hospital, but the Italian steward, who is not a bad fellow,
objected and had her taken to a Catholic laundress. He has followed to
nurse her. No one is left in the deserted house to attend to the young
lady, except Sister Gonzaga, a good little nun, one of the three who
were allowed to remain in the old convent near you, but early this
morning, to cap the climax of misfortune, the kind old woman scalded
her fingers while heating a bath. The Catholic priest has faithfully
remained at his post, but what can we men do in nursing the sick girl!
You doubtless now suspect why I brought you with me. You ought not and
cannot become the stranger’s nurse permanently; but if the young lady is
not to sink after all, she must now have some face about her which she
can love, and God has blessed you with one. Look at the sick girl, talk
with her, and if you are what I believe you--but here we are.”
The air of the dark entrance hall of the Hoogstraten residence was
filled with a strong odor of musk. The old lady’s death had been
instantly announced at the town-hall by Doctor Bontius’ representative,
and an armed man was marching up and down in the hall, keeping guard,
who told the physician that Herr Van Hout had already been here with his
men and put seals on all the doors.
On the staircase Maria seized her guide’s arm in terror; for through an
open door-way of the second story, to which she was ascending with her
companion, she saw in the dusk a shapeless figure, moving strangely
hither and thither, up and down. Her tone was by no means confident as,
pointing towards it with her finger, she asked the doctor:
“What is that?”
The physician had paused with her, and seeing the strange object to
which the burgomaster’s wife pointed, recoiled a step himself. But
the cool-headed man quickly perceived the real nature of the ghostly
apparition, and leading Maria forward exclaimed smiling:
“What in the world are you doing there on the floor, Father Damianus?”
“I am scouring the boards,” replied the priest quietly.
“Right is right,” cried the doctor indignantly. “You are too good for
maid-servant’s work, Father Damianus, especially when there is plenty
of money without an owner here in the house, and we can find as many
scrubbing-women as we want to-morrow.”
“But not to-day, doctor; and the young lady won’t stay in yonder room
any longer. You ordered her to go to sleep yourself, and Sister Gonzaga
says she won’t close her eyes so long as she is next door to the
corpse.”
“Then Van Hout’s men ought to have carried her on her bed into the old
lady’s beautiful sitting-room.”
“That’s sealed, and so are all the other handsome chambers on this
story. The men were obliging and tried to find scrub-women, but the poor
things are afraid of the plague.”
“Such rumors grow like wire-grass,” cried the doctor. “Nobody sows it,
yet who can uproot it when it is once here?”
“Neither you nor I,” replied the priest. “The young lady must be brought
into this room at once; but it looked neglected, so I’ve just set it to
rights. It will do the invalid good, and the exercise can’t hurt me.”
With these words Father Damianus rose, and seeing Maria, said:
“You have brought a new nurse? That’s right. I need not praise Sister
Gonzaga, for you know her; but I assure you Fraulein Henrica won’t allow
her to remain with her long, and I shall leave this house as soon as the
funeral is over.”
“You have done your duty; but what does this news about the Sister
mean?” cried the physician angrily. “I’d rather have your old Gonzaga
with her burnt fingers than--what has happened?”
The priest approached and, hastily casting a side glance at the
burgomaster’s wife, exclaimed:
“She speaks through her nose, and Fraulein Henrica said just now it made
her ache to hear her talk; I must keep her away.”
Doctor Bontius reflected a moment, and then said: “There are eyes that
cannot endure a glare of light, and perhaps certain tones may seem
unbearable to irritated ears. Frau Van der Werff, you have been kept
waiting a long time, please follow me.”
It had grown dark. The curtains of the sick-room were lowered and a
small lamp, burning behind a screen, shed but a feeble light.
The doctor approached the bed, felt Henrica’s pulse, said a few words in
a low tone to prepare her for her visitor, and then took the lamp to see
how the invalid looked.
Maria now beheld a pale face with regular outline, whose dark eyes,
in their size and lustre, formed a striking contrast to the emaciated
cheeks and sunken features of the sick girl.
After old Sister Gonzaga had restored the lamp to its former place, the
physician said:
“Excellent! Now, Sister, go and change the bandage on your arm and lie
down.” Then he beckoned Maria to approach.
Henrica’s face made a strange impression upon the burgomaster’s wife.
She thought her beautiful, but the large eyes and firmly-shut lips
seemed peculiar, rather than attractive. Yet she instantly obeyed the
physician’s summons, approached the bed, said kindly that she had been
glad to come to stay with her a short time, and asked what she desired.
At these words, Henrica raised herself and with a sigh of relief,
exclaimed:
“That does me good! Thanks, Doctor. That’s a human voice again. If you
want to please me, Frau Van der Werff keep on talking, no matter what
you say. Please come and sit down here. With Sister Gonzaga’s hands,
your voice, and the doctor’s--yes, I will say with Doctor Bontius’
candor, it won’t be difficult to recover entirely.”
“Good, good,” murmured the physician. “Kind Sister Gonzaga’s injuries
are not serious and she will stay with you, but when it is time for you
to sleep, you will be moved elsewhere. You can remain here an hour, Frau
Van der Werff, but that will be enough for to-day. I’ll go to your house
and send the servant for you with a lantern.”
When the two ladies were left alone together, Maria said:
“You set great value on the sound of voices; so do I, perhaps more than
is desirable. True, I have never had any serious illness--”
“This is my first one too,” replied Henrica, “but I know now what it
is to be compelled to submit to everything we don’t like, and feel with
two-fold keenness everything that is repulsive. It is better to die than
suffer.”
“Your aunt is dead,” said Maria sympathizingly.
“She died early this morning. We had little in common save the tie of
blood.”
“Are your parents no longer living?”
“Only my father; but what of that?”
“He will rejoice over your recovery; Doctor Bontius says you will soon
be perfectly well.”
“I think so too,” replied Henrica confidently, and then said softly,
without heeding Maria’s presence: “There is one beautiful thing. When I
am well again, I shall once more--Do you practise music?”
“Yes, dear Fraulein.”
“Not merely as a pastime, but because you feel you cannot live without
it?”
“You must keep quiet, Fraulein. Music;--yes, I think my life would be
far poorer without it than it is.”
“Do you sing?”
“Very seldom here; but when a girl in Delft we sung every day.”
“Of course you were the soprano?”
“Yes, Fraulein.”
“Let the Fraulein drop, and call me Henrica.”
“With all my heart, if you will call me Maria, or Frau Maria.”
“I’ll try. Don’t you think we could practise many a song together?”
Just as these words were uttered, Sister Gonzaga entered the room,
saying that the wife of Receiver General Cornelius had called to ask if
she could do anything for the sick lady.
“What does that mean?” asked Henrica angrily. “I don’t know the woman.”
“She is the mother of Herr Wilhelm, the musician,” said the young wife.
“Oh!” exclaimed Henrica. “Shall I admit her, Maria?”
The latter shook her head and answered firmly “No, Fraulein Henrica.
It is not good for you to have more than one visitor at this hour, and
besides--”
“Well?”
“She is an excellent woman, but I fear her blunt manner, heavy step, and
loud voice would not benefit you just now. Let me go to her and ask what
she desires.”
“Receive her kindly, and tell her to remember me to her son. I am not
very delicate, but I see you understand me; such substantial fare would
hardly suit me just now.”
After Maria had performed her errand and talked with Henrica for a time,
Frau Van Hout was announced. Her husband, who had been present when the
doors of the house of death were sealed, had told her about the invalid
and she came to see if the poor girl needed anything.
“You might receive her,” said Maria, “for she would surely please you;
but the bell is ringing again, and you have talked enough for to-day.
Try to sleep now. I’ll go home with Frau Van Hout and come again
tomorrow, if agreeable to you.”
“Come, pray come!” exclaimed the young girl.
“Do you want to say anything more to me?”
“I should like to do so, Fraulein Henrica. You ought not to stay in this
sad house. There is plenty of room in ours. Will you be our guest until
your father--”
“Yes, take me home with you!” cried the invalid, tears sparkling in her
eyes. “Take me away from here, only take me away--and I will be grateful
to you all my life.”