The burgomaster’s wife had been anxious about Henrica, but the latter
greeted her with special cheerfulness and met her gentle reproaches with
the assurance that this morning had done her good. Fate, she said,
was just, and if it were true that confidence of recovery helped the
physician, Doctor Bontius would have an easy task with her. The dead
Castilian must be the wretch, who had plunged her sister Anna into
misery. Maria, surprised, but entirely relieved, left her and sought her
husband to tell him how she had found the invalid, and in what relation
the Spanish officer, slain by Allertssohn, seemed to have stood to
Henrica and her sister. Peter only half listened to her, and when
Barbara brought him a freshly-ironed ruff, interrupted his wife in the
middle of her story, gave her the dead man’s letter-case, and said:
“There, let her satisfy herself, and bring it to me again in the
evening, I shall hardly be able to come to dinner; I suppose you’ll see
poor Allertssohn’s widow in the course of the day.”
“Certainly,” she answered eagerly. “Whom will you appoint in his place?”
“That is for the Prince to decide.”
“Have you thought of any means of keeping the communication with Delft
free from the enemy?”
“On your mother’s account?”
“Not solely. Rotterdam also lies to the south. We can expect nothing
from Haarlem and Amsterdam, that is, from the north, for everything
there is in the hands of the Spaniards.”
“I’ll get you a place in the council of war. Where do you learn your
wisdom?”
“We have our thoughts, and isn’t it natural that I should rather follow
you into the future with my eyes open, than blindly? Has the English
troop been used to secure the fortifications on the old canal? Kaak too
is an important point.”
Peter gazed at his wife in amazement, and the sense of discomfort
experienced by an unskilful writer, when some one looks over his
shoulder, stole over him. She had pointed out a bad, momentous error,
which, it is true, did not burden him alone, and as he certainly did not
wish to defend it to her, and moreover might have found justification
difficult, he made no reply, saying nothing but: “Men’s affairs!
Good-bye until evening.” With these words he walked past Barbara,
towards the door.
Maria did not know how it happened, but before he laid his hand on the
latch she gained sufficient self-command to call after him:
“Are you going so, Peter! Is that right? What did you promise me on your
return from the journey to the Prince?”
“I know, I know,” he answered impatiently. “We cannot serve two masters,
and in these times I beg you not to trouble me with questions and
matters that don’t concern you. To direct the business of the city is
my affair; you have your invalid, the children, the poor; let that
suffice.”
Without waiting for her reply he left the room, while she stood
motionless, gazing after him.
Barbara watched her anxiously for several minutes, then busied herself
with the papers on her brother’s writing-table, saying as if to herself,
though turning slightly towards her sister-in-law:
“Evil times! Let every one, who is not oppressed with such burdens as
Peter, thank the Lord. He has to bear the responsibility of everything,
and people can’t dance lightly with hundred-pound weights on their
legs. Nobody has a better heart, and nobody means more honestly. How the
traders at the fair praised his caution! In the storm people know the
pilot, and Peter was always greatest, when things were going worst.
He knows what he is undertaking, but the last few weeks have aged him
years.”
Maria nodded. Barbara left the room, but returning after a few minutes,
said beseechingly:
“You look ill, child, come and lie down. An hour’s sleep is better than
three meals. At your age, such a night as this last one doesn’t pass
without leaving traces. The sun is shining so brightly, that I’ve drawn
your window-curtains. I’ve made your bed, too. Be sensible and come.”
While uttering the last words, she took Maria’s hand and drew her away.
The young wife made no resistance, and though her eyes did not remain
dry when she was alone, sleep soon overpowered her.
Towards noon, refreshed by slumber, and newly dressed, she went to the
captain’s house. Her own heart was heavy, and compassion for herself
and her own fate again had the mastery. Eva Peterstochter, the
fencing-master’s widow, a quiet, modest woman, whom she scarcely knew by
sight, did not appear. She was sitting alone in her room, weeping,
but Maria found in her house the musician, Wilhelm, who had spoken
comforting words to his old friend’s son, and promised to take charge of
him and make him a good performer.
The burgomaster’s wife sent a message to the widow, begging to see her
the next day, and then went out into the street with Wilhelm. Everywhere
groups of citizens, women, and journeymen were standing together,
talking about what had happened and the coming trouble. While Maria
was telling the musician who the dead Castilian was, and that Henrica
desired to speak with him, Wilhelm, as soon as possible, she was
interrupted more than once; for sometimes a company of volunteers
or city guards, relieved from duty in the towers and on the walls,
sometimes a cannon barred their way. Was it the anticipation of coming
events, or the beat of drums and blare of trumpets, which so excited her
companion, that he often pressed his hand to his forehead and she
was obliged to request him to slacken his pace. There was a strange,
constrained tone in his voice as, in accordance with her request, he
told her that the Spaniards had come by ship up the Amstel, the Drecht,
and the Brasem See to the Rhine and landed at Leyderdorp.
A mounted messenger wearing the Prince’s colors, and followed not only
by children, but by grown persons, who ran after him eager to reach
the town-hall at the same time, interrupted Wilhelm, and as soon as
the crowd had passed, the burgomaster’s wife asked her companion one
question after another. The noise of war, the firing audible in the
distance, the gay military costumes everywhere to be seen in place of
the darker citizens’ dress, also aroused her eager interest, and what
she learned from Wilhelm was little calculated to diminish it. The main
body of the Spanish troops was on the way to the Hague. The environment
of the city had commenced, but the enemy could hardly succeed in
his purpose; for the English auxiliaries, who were to defend the new
fortifications of Valkenburg, the village of Alfen, and the Gouda
sluice might be trusted. Wilhelm had seen the British soldiers, their
commander, Colonel Chester, and Captain Gensfort, and praised their
superb equipments and stately bearing.
On reaching her own house, Maria attempted to take leave of her
companion, but the latter earnestly entreated permission to have an
interview with Henrica at once, and could scarcely be convinced that he
must have patience until the doctor had given his consent.
At dinner Adrian, who when his father was not present, talked freely
enough, related all sorts of things he had seen himself, as well as news
and rumors heard at school and in the street, his eloquence being no
little encouraged by his step-mother’s eager questions.
Intense anxiety had taken possession of the burgomaster’s wife. Her
enthusiasm for the cause of liberty, to which her most beloved relatives
had fallen victims, blazed brightly, and wrath against the oppressors
of her native land seethed passionately in her breast. The delicate,
maidenly, reserved woman, who was utterly incapable of any loud or rude
expression of feeling in ordinary life, would now have rushed to the
walls, like Kanau Hasselaer of Haarlem, to fight the foe among the men.
Offended pride, and everything that an hour ago had oppressed her
heart, yielded to sympathy for her country’s cause. Animated with fresh
courage, she went to Henrica and, as evening had closed in, sat down by
the lamp to write to her mother; for she had neglected to do so since
the invalid’s arrival, and communication with Delft might soon be
interrupted.
When she read over the completed letter, she was satisfied with it and
herself, for it breathed firm confidence in the victory of the good
cause, and also distinctly and unconstrainedly expressed her cheerful
willingness to bear the worst.
Barbara had retired when Peter at last appeared, so weary that he could
scarcely touch the meal that had been kept ready for him. While raising
the food to his lips, he confirmed the news Maria had already heard from
the musician, and was gentle and kind, but his appearance saddened her,
for it recalled Barbara’s allusion to the heavy burden he had assumed.
To-day, for the first time, she noticed two deep lines that anxiety had
furrowed between his eyes and lips, and full of tender compassion, went
behind him, laid her hands on his cheeks and kissed him on the forehead.
He trembled slightly, seized her slender right hand so impetuously that
she shrank back, raised it first to his lips, then to his eyes, and held
it there for several minutes.
At last he rose, passed before her into his sleeping-room, bade her an
affectionate good-night, and lay down to rest. When she too sought her
bed, he was breathing heavily. Extreme fatigue had quickly overpowered
him. The slumber of both was destined to be frequently interrupted
during this night, and whenever Maria woke, she heard her husband sigh
and moan. She did not stir, that she might not disturb the sleep he
sought and needed, and twice held her breath, for he was talking to
himself. First he murmured softly: “Heavy, too heavy,” and then: “If I
can only bear it.”
When she awoke next morning, he had already left the room and gone to
the town-hall. At noon he returned home, saying that the Spaniards had
taken the Hague and been hailed with delight by the pitiful adherents
of the king. Fortunately, the well-disposed citizens and Beggars had had
time to escape to Delft, for brave Nicolas Ruichhaver had held the
foe in check for a time at Geestburg. The west was still open, and the
newly-fortified fort of Valkenburg, garrisoned by the English soldiers,
would not be so easy to storm. On the east, other British auxiliaries
were posted at Alfen in the Spaniards’ rear.
The burgomaster told all this unasked, but did not speak as freely and
naturally as when conversing with men. While talking, he often looked
into his plate and hesitated. It seemed as if he were obliged to impose
a certain restraint upon himself, in order to speak before women,
servants, and children, of matters he was in the habit of discussing
only with men of his own position. Maria listened attentively, but
maintained a modest reserve, urging him only by loving looks and
sympathizing exclamations, while Barbara boldly asked one question after
another.
The meal was approaching an end, when Junker von Warmond entered
unannounced, and requested the burgomaster to accompany him at once, for
Colonel Chester was standing before the White Gate with a portion of his
troops, asking admittance to the city.
At these tidings, Peter dashed his mug of beer angrily on the table,
sprang from his seat, and left the room before the nobleman.
During the late hours of the afternoon, the Van der Werff house was
crowded with people. The gossips came to talk over with Barbara the
events occurring at the White Gate. Burgomaster Van Swieten’s wife had
heard from her own husband, that the Englishmen, without making any
resistance, had surrendered the beautiful new fort of Valkenburg and
taken to their heels, at the mere sight of the Spaniards. The enemy had
marched out from Haarlem through the downs above Nordwyk, and it would
have been an easy matter for the Britons to hold the strong position.
“Fine aid such helpers give!” cried Barbara indignantly. “Let Queen
Elizabeth keep the men on her island for herself, and send us the
women.”
“Yet they are real sons of Anak, and bear themselves like trim
soldiers,” said the wife of the magistrate Heemskerk. “High boots,
doublets of fine leather, gay plumes in their morions and hats, large
coats of mail, halberds that would kill half a dozen--and all like new.”
“They probably didn’t want to spoil them, and so found a place of safety
as soon as possible, the windy cowards,” cried the wife of Church-warden
de Haes, whose sharp tongue was well known. “You seem to have looked at
them very closely, Frau Margret.”
“From the wind-mill at the gate,” replied the other. “The envoy stopped
on the bridge directly under us. A handsome man on a stately horse. His
trumpeter too was mounted, and the velvet cloth on his trumpet bristled
with beautiful embroidery in gold thread and jewels. They earnestly
entreated admittance, but the gate remained closed.”
“Right, right!” cried Frau Heemskerk. “I don’t like the Prince’s
commissioner, Van Bronkhorst. What does he care for us, if only the
Queen doesn’t get angry and withdraw the subsidies? I’ve heard he wants
to accommodate Chester and grant him admission.”
“He would like to do so,” added Frau Van Hout. “But your husband, Frau
Maria, and mine--I was talking with him on the way here--will make every
effort to prevent it. The two Seigneurs of Nordwyk are of their opinion,
so perhaps the commissioner will be out-voted.”
“May God grant it!” cried the resolute voice of Wilhelm’s mother. “By
to-morrow or the day after, not even a cat will be allowed to leave the
gates, and my husband says we must begin to save provisions at once.”
“Five hundred more consumers in the city, to lessen our children’s
morsels; that would be fine business!” cried Frau de Haes, throwing
herself back in her chair so violently, that it creaked, and beating her
knees with her hands.
“And they are Englishmen, Frau Margret, Englishmen,” said the
Receiver-General’s wife. “They don’t eat, they don’t consume, they
devour. We supply our troops; but Herr von Nordwyk--I mean the younger
one, who has been at the Queen’s court as the Prince’s ambassador, told
my Wilhelm what a British glutton can gobble. They’ll clear off your
beef like cheese, and our beer is dish-water compared with their black
malt brew.”
“All that might be borne,” replied Barbara, “if they were stout
soldiers. We needn’t mind a hundred head of cattle more or less, and
the glutton becomes temperate, when a niggard rules the house. But I
wouldn’t take one of our Adrian’s grey rabbits for these runaways.”
“It would be a pity,” said Frau de Haes. “I shall go home now, and if
I find my husband, he’ll learn what sensible people think of the
Englishmen.”
“Gently, my friend, gently,” said Burgomaster Van Swieten’s wife, who
had hitherto been playing quietly with the cat. “Believe me, it will be
just the same on the whole, whether we admit the auxiliaries or not, for
before the gooseberries in our gardens are ripe, all resistance will be
over.”
Maria, who was passing cakes and hippocras, set her waiter on the table
and asked:
“Do you wish that, Frau Magtelt?”
“I do,” replied the latter positively, “and many sensible people wish
it too. No resistance is possible against such superior force, and
the sooner we appeal to the King’s mercy, the more surely it will be
granted.”
The other women listened to the bold speaker in silence, but Maria
approached and answered indignantly:
“Whoever says that, can go to the Spaniards at once; whoever says that,
desires the disgrace of the city and country; whoever says that--”
Frau Magtelt interrupted Maria with a forced laugh, saying:
“Do you want to school experienced women, Madam Early-Wise? Is it
customary to attack a visitor?”
“Customary or not,” replied the other, “I will never permit such words
in our house, and if they crossed the lips of my own sister I would say
to her Go, you are my friend no longer!”
Maria’s voice trembled, and she pointed with outstretched arm towards
the door.
Frau Magtelt struggled for composure, but as she left the room found
nothing to say, except: “Don’t be troubled, don’t be troubled--you won’t
see me again.”
Barbara followed the offended woman, and while those who remained fixed
their eyes in embarrassment upon their laps, Wilhelm’s mother exclaimed:
“Well said, little woman, well said!”
Herr Van Hout’s kind wife threw her arm around Maria, kissed her
forehead, and whispered:
“Turn away from the other women and dry your eyes.”