The tavern where Georg von Dornburg lodged stood on the "broad street,"
and was a fine building with a large court-yard, in which were numerous
vehicles. On the left of the entrance was a large open room entered
through a lofty archway. Here the drivers and other folk sat over their
beer and wine, suffering the innkeeper's hens to fly on the benches and
even sometimes on the table, here vegetables were cleaned, boiled and
fried, here the stout landlady was frequently obliged to call her sturdy
maid and men servants to her aid, when her guests came to actual
fighting, or some one drank more than was good for him. Here the new
custom of tobacco-smoking was practised, though only by a few sailors who
had served on Spanish ships--but Frau Van Aken could not endure the acrid
smoke and opened the windows, which were filled with blooming pinks,
slender stalks of balsam, and cages containing bright-plumaged
goldfinches. On the side opposite to the entrance were two closed rooms.
Above the door of one, neatly carved in wood, were the lines from Horace:
"Ille terrarum mihi praeter omnes.
Angulus ridet."
[Of all the corners of the world,
There is none that so charms me.]
Only a few chosen guests found admittance into this long, narrow
apartment. It was completely wainscoted with wood, and from the centre
of the richly-carved ceiling a strange picture gleamed in brilliant hues.
This represented the landlord. The worthy man with the smooth face,
firmly-closed lips, and long nose, which offered an excellent straight
line to its owner's burin, sat on a throne in the costume of a Roman
general, while Vulcan and Bacchus, Minerva and Poinona, offered him
gifts. Klaus Van Aken, or as he preferred to be called, Nicolaus
Aquanus, was a singular man, who had received good gifts from more than
one of the Olympians; for besides his business he zealously devoted
himself to science and several of the arts. He was an excellent silver-
smith, a die-cutter and engraver of great skill, had a remarkable
knowledge of coins, was an industrious student and collector of
antiquities. His little tap-room was also a museum; for on the shelves,
that surrounded it, stood rare objects of every description, in rich
abundance and regular order; old jugs and tankards, large and small
coins, gems in carefully-sealed glass-cases, antique lamps of clay and
bronze, stones with ancient Roman inscriptions, Roman and Greek terra-
cotta, polished fragments of marble which he had found in Italy among the
ruins, the head of a faun, an arm, a foot and other bits of Pagan works
of art, a beautifully-enamelled casket of Byzantine work, and another
with enamelled ornamentation from Limoges. Even half a Roman coat of
mail and a bit of mosaic from a Roman bath were to be seen here. Amid
these antiquities, stood beautiful Venetian glasses, pine-cones and
ostrich-eggs. Such another tap-room could scarcely be found in Holland,
and even the liquor, which a neatly-dressed maid poured for the guests
from oddly-shaped tankards into exquisitely-wrought goblets, was
exceptionally fine. In this room Herr Aquanus himself was in the habit
of appearing among his guests; in the other, opposite to the entrance,
his wife held sway.
On this day, the "Angulus," as the beautiful taproom was called, was but
thinly occupied, for the sun had just set, though the lamps were already
lighted. These rested in three-branched iron chandeliers, every portion
of which, from the slender central shaft to the intricately-carved and
twisted ornaments, had been carefully wrought by Aquanus with his own
hand.
Several elderly gentlemen were at one table enjoying their wine, while at
another were Captain Van der Laen, a brave Hollander, who was receiving
English pay and had come to the city with the other defenders of Alfen,
the Musician Wilhelm, Junker Georg, and the landlord.
"It's a pleasure to meet people like you, Junker," said Aquanus. "You've
travelled with your eyes open, and what you tell me about Brescia excites
my curiosity. I Should have liked to see the inscription."
"I'll get it for you," replied the young man; "for if the Spaniards don't
send me into another world, I shall certainly cross the Alps again. Did
you find any of these Roman antiquities in your own country?"
"Yes. At the Roomburg Canal, perhaps the site of the old Praetorium, and
at Katwyk. The forum Hadriani was probably located near Voorburg. The
coat of mail, I showed you, came from there."
"An old, green, half-corroded thing," cried Georg. And yet! What
memories the sight of it awakens! Did not some Roman armorer forge it
for the wandering emperor? When I look at this coat of mail, Rome and
her legions appear before my eyes. Who would not, like you, Herr
Wilhelna, go to the Tiber to increase the short span of the present by
the long centuries of the past!"
"I should be glad to go to Italy once more with you," replied Wilhelm.
"And I with you."
"Let us first secure our liberty," said the musician. "When that is
accomplished, each individual will belong to himself, and then: why
should I conceal it, nothing will keep me in Leyden."
"And the organ? Your father?" asked Aquanus.
"My brothers will remain here, snug in their own nest," answered Wilhelm.
"But something urges, impels me--"
"There are still waters and rivers on earth," interrupted Georg, "and in
the sky the fixed stars remain quiet and the planets cannot cease from
wandering. So among human beings, there are contented persons, who like
their own places, and birds of passage like us. To be sure, you needn't
go to Italy to hear fine singing. I just heard a voice, a voice--"
"Where? You make me eager."
"In the court-yard of Herr Van der Werff's house."
"That was his wife."
"Oh, no! Her voice sounds differently."
During this conversation, Captain Van der Laen had risen and examined the
landlord's singular treasures. He was now standing before a board, on
which the head of an ox was sketched in charcoal, freely, boldly and with
perfect fidelity to nature.
"What magnificent piece of beef is this?" he asked the landlord.
"No less a personage than Frank Floris sketched it," replied Aquanus.
"He once came here from Brussels and called on Meister Artjen. The old
man had gone out, so Floris took a bit of charcoal and drew these lines
with it. When Artjen came home and found the ox's head, he stood before
it a long time and finally exclaimed: 'Frank Floris, or the devil!' This
story--But there comes the burgomaster. Welcome, Meister Peter. A rare
honor."
All the guests rose and respectfully greated Van der Werff; Georg started
up to offer him his chair. Peter sat down for a short time and drank a
glass of wine, but soon beckoned to the Junker and went out with him into
the street.
There he briefly requested him to go to his house, for they had an
important communication to make, and then went to Van Hout's residence,
which was close beside the inn.
Georg walked thoughtfully towards the burgomaster's.
The "they" could scarcely have referred to any one except Maria. What
could she want of him at so late an hour? Had his friend regretted
having offered him lodgings in her own house? He was to move into his
new quarters early next morning; perhaps she wished to inform him of this
change of mind, before it was too late. Maria treated him differently
from before, there was no doubt of that, but surely this was natural!
He had dreamed of a different, far different meeting! He had come to
Holland to support the good cause of Orange, yet he would certainly have
turned his steed towards his beloved Italy, where a good sword was always
in demand, instead of to the north, had he not hoped to find in Holland
her, whom he had never forgotten, for whom he had never ceased to long--
Now she was the wife of another, a man who had shown him kindness, given
him his confidence. To tear his love from his heart was impossible; but
he owed it to her husband and his own honor to be strong, to resolutely
repress every thought of possessing her, and only rejoice in seeing her;
and this he must try to accomplish.
He had told himself all these things more than once, but realized that he
was walking with unsteady steps, upon a narrow pathway, when she met him
outside the dining-room and he felt how cold and tremulous was the hand
she laid in his.
Maria led the way, and he silently followed her into Henrica's room. The
latter greeted him with a friendly gesture, but both ladies hesitated to
utter the first word. The young man turned hastily, noticed that he was
in the room overlooking the court-yard, and said, eagerly: I was down
below just before twilight, to look at my new quarters, and heard singing
from this room, and such singing! At first I didn't know what was
coming, for the tones were husky, weak, and broken, but afterwards--
afterwards the melody burst forth like a stream of lava through the
ashes. We ought to wish many sorrows to one, who can lament thus."
"You shall make the singer's acquaintance," said Maria, motioning towards
the young girl. "Fraulein Henrica Van Hoogstraten, a beloved guest in
our house."
"Were you the songstress?" asked Georg.
"Does that surprise you?" replied Henrica. "My voice has certainly
retained its strength better than my body, wasted by long continued
suffering. I feel how deeply my eyes are sunken and how pale I must be.
Singing certainly lightens pain, and I have been deprived of the
comforter long enough. Not a note has passed my lips for weeks, and
now my heart aches so, that I would far rather weep than sing. 'What
troubles me?' you will ask, and yet Maria gives me courage to request
a chivalrous service, almost without parallel, at your hands."
"Speak, speak," Georg eagerly exclaimed. "If Frau Maria summons me and
I can serve you, dear lady: here I am, dispose of me."
Henrica did not avoid his frank glance, as she replied:
"First hear what a great service we ask of you. You must prepare
yourself to hear a short story. I am still weak and have put my strength
to a severe test to-day, Maria must speak for me."
The young wife fulfilled this task quietly and clearly, closing with the
words:
"The messenger we need, I have found myself. You must be he, Junker
Georg."
Henrica had not interrupted the burgomaster's wife; but now said warmly
"I have only made your acquaintance to-day, but I trust you entirely.
A few hours ago, black would have been my color, but if you will be my
knight, I'll choose cheerful green, for I now begin to hope again. Will
you venture to take the ride for me?"
Hitherto Georg had gazed silently at the floor. Now he raised his head,
saying:
"If I can obtain leave of absence, I will place myself at your disposal;
--but my lady's color is blue, and I am permitted to wear no other."
Henrica's lips quivered slightly, but the young nobleman continued:
"Captain Van der Laen is my superior officer. I'll speak to him at
once."
"And if he says no?" asked Maria.
Henrica interrupted her and answered haughtily: "Then I beg you to send
me Herr Wilhelm, the musician."
Georg bowed and went to the tavern.
As soon as the ladies were alone, the young girl asked:
"Do you know Herr von Dornburg's lady?"
"How should I?" replied Maria. "Give yourself a little rest, Fraulein.
As soon as the Junker comes back, I'll bring him to you."
The young wife left the room and seated herself at the spinning-wheel
with Barbara. Georg kept them waiting a long time, but at midnight again
appeared, accompanied by two companions. It was not within the limits of
the captain's authority to grant him a leave of absence for several
weeks--the journey to Italy would have required that length of time--but
the Junker had consulted the musician, and the latter had found the right
man, with whom Wilhelm speedily made the necessary arrangements, and
brought him without delay: it was the old steward, Belotti.