by Georg Ebers
CHAPTER III.
The burgomaster had pressed the nobleman to sit down in the study-chair,while he himself leaned in a half-sitting attitude on the writing-table,listening somewhat impatiently to his distinguished guest.
"Before speaking of more important things," Herr Matanesse Van Wibismahad begun, "I should like to appeal to you, as a just man, for somepunishment for the injury my son has sustained in this city."
"Speak," said the burgomaster, and the nobleman now briefly, and withunconcealed indignation, related the story of the attack upon his son atthe church.
"I'll inform the rector of the annoying incident," replied Van derWerff, "and the culprits will receive their just dues; but pardon me,noble sir, if I ask whether any inquiry has been made concerning thecause of the quarrel?"
Herr Matanesse Van Wibisma looked at the burgomaster in surprise andanswered proudly:
"You know my son's report."
"Both sides must be fairly heard," replied Van der Werff calmly. "Thathas been the custom of the Netherlands from ancient times."
"My son bears my name and speaks the truth."
"Our boys are called simply Leendert or Adrian or Gerrit, but theydo the same, so I must beg you to send the young gentleman to theexamination at the school."
"By no means," answered the knight resolutely. "If I had thought thematter belonged to the rector's department, I should have sought him andnot you, Herr Peter. My son has his own tutor, and was not attacked inyour school, which in any case he has outgrown, for he is seventeen,but in the public street, whose security it is the burgomaster's duty toguard."
"Very well then, make your complaint, take the youth before the judges,summon witnesses and let the law follow its course. But, sir," continuedVan der Werff, softening the impatience in his voice, "were you notyoung yourself once? Have you entirely forgotten the fights underthe citadel? What pleasure will it afford you, if we lock up a fewthoughtless lads for two days this sunny weather? The scamps will findsomething amusing to do indoors, as well as out, and only the parentswill be punished."
The last words were uttered so cordially and pleasantly, that they couldnot fail to have their effect upon the baron. He was a handsomeman, whose refined, agreeable features, of the true Netherland type,expressed anything rather than severity.
"If you speak to me in this tone, we shall come to an agreement moreeasily," he answered, smiling. "I will only say this. Had the brawlarisen in sport, or from some boyish quarrel, I wouldn't have wasteda word on the matter--but that children already venture to assail withjeers and violence those who hold different opinions, ought not to bepermitted to pass without reproof. The boys shouted after my son theabsurd word--"
"It is certainly an insult," interrupted Van der Werff, "a verydisagreeable name, that our people bestow on the enemies of theirliberty."
The baron rose, angrily confronting the other.
"Who tells you," he cried, striking his broad breast, padded with silkenpuffs, "who tells you that we grudge Holland her liberty? We desire,just as earnestly as you, to win it back to the States, but by other,straighter paths than Orange--"
"I cannot test here whether your paths are crooked or straight,"retorted Van der Werff; "but I do know this--they are labyrinths."
"They will lead to the heart of Philip, our king and yours."
"Yes, if he only had what we in Holland call a heart," replied theother, smiling bitterly; but Wibisma threw his head back vehemently,exclaiming reproachfully:
"Sir Burgomaster, you are speaking of the anointed Prince to whom I havesworn fealty."
"Baron Matanesse," replied Van der Werff, in a tone of deep earnestness,as he drew himself up to his full height, folded his arms, and lookedthe nobleman sharply in the eye, "I speak rather of the tyrant, whosebloody council declared all who bore the Netherland name, and you amongus, criminals worthy of death; who, through his destroying devil, Alva,burned, beheaded, and hung thousands of honest men, robbed and exiledfrom the country thousands of others, I speak of the profligate--"
"Enough!" cried the knight, clenching the hilt of his sword. "Who givesyou the right--"
"Who gives me the right to speak so bitterly, you would ask?"interrupted Peter Van der Werff, meeting the nobleman's eyes with agloomy glance. "Who gives me this right? I need not conceal it. It wasbestowed by the silent lips of my valiant father, beheaded for thesake of his faith, by the arbitrary decree, that without form of law,banished my brother and myself from the country--by the Spaniards'broken vows, the torn charters of this land, the suffering of the poor,ill-treated, worthy people that will perish if we do not save them."
"You will not save them," replied Wibisma in a calmer tone. "You willpush those tottering on the verge of the abyss completely over theprecipice, and go to destruction with them."
"We are pilots. Perhaps we shall bring deliverance, perhaps we shall goto ruin with those for whom we are ready to die."
"You say that, and yet a young, blooming wife binds you to life."
"Baron, you have crossed this threshold as complainant to theburgomaster, not as guest or friend."
"Quite true, but I came with kind intentions, as monitor to the guidinghead of this beautiful, hapless city. You have escaped the storm once,but new and far heavier ones are gathering above your heads."
"We do not fear them."
"Not even now?"
"Now, with good reason, far less than ever."
"Then you don't know the Prince's brother--"
"Louis of Nassau was close upon the Spaniards on the 14th, and our causeis doing well--"
"It certainly did not fare ill at first."
"The messenger, who yesterday evening--"
"Ours came this morning."
"This morning, you say? And what more--"
"The Prince's army was defeated and utterly destroyed on Mook Heath.Louis of Nassau himself was slain."
Van der Werff pressed his fingers firmly on the wood of thewriting-table. The fresh color of his cheeks and lips had yielded toa livid pallor, and his mouth quivered painfully as he asked in a low,hollow tone, "Louis dead, really dead?"
"Dead," replied the baron firmly, though sorrowfully. "We were enemies,but Louis was a noble youth. I mourn him with you."
"Dead, William's favorite dead!" murmured the burgomaster as if in adream. Then, controlling himself by a violent effort, he said, firmly:
"Pardon me, noble sir. Time is flying. I must go to the town-hall."
"And spite of my message, you will continue to uphold rebellion?"
"Yes, my lord, as surely as I am a Hollander."
"Do you remember the fate of Haarlem?"
"I remember her citizens' resistance, and the rescued Alkmaar."
"Man, man!" cried the baron. "By all that sacred, I implore you to becircumspect."
"Enough, baron, I must go to the town-hall."
"No, only this one more word, this one word. I know you upbraid usas 'Glippers,' deserters, but as truly as I hope for God's mercy, youmisjudge us. No, Herr Peter, no, I am no traitor! I love this countryand this brave, industrious people with the same love as yourself, forits blood flows in my veins also. I signed the compromise. Here I stand,sir. Look at me. Do I look like a Judas? Do I look like a Spaniard? Canyou blame me for faithfully keeping the oath I gave the king? When didwe of the Netherlands ever trifle with vows? You, the friend of Orange,have just declared that you did not grudge any man the faith to which heclung, and I will not doubt it. Well, I hold firmly to the old church, Iam a Catholic and shall remain one. But in this hour I frankly confess,that I hate the inquisition and Alva's bloody deeds as much as you do.They have as little connection with our religion as iconoclasm had withyours Like you, I love the freedom of our home. To win it back is myendeavor, as well as yours. But how can a little handful like us eversucceed in finally resisting the most powerful kingdom in the world?Though we conquer once, twice, thrice, two stronger armies will followeach defeated one. We shall accomplish nothing by force, but
may do muchby wise concession and prudent deeds. Philip's coffers are empty; heneeds his armies too in other countries. Well then, let us profit byhis difficulties, and force him to ratify some lost liberty for everyrevolted city that returns to him. Let us buy from his hands, withwhat remains of our old wealth, the rights he has wrested from us whilefighting against the rebels. You will find open hands with me and thosewho share my opinions. Your voice weighs heavily in the council of thiscity. You are the friend of Orange, and if you could induce him--"
"To do what, noble sir?"
"To enter into an alliance with us. We know that those in Madridunderstand how to estimate his importance and fear him. Let usstipulate, as the first condition, a full pardon for him and hisfaithful followers. King Philip, I know, will receive him into favoragain--"
"In his arms to strangle him," replied the burgomaster resolutely. "Haveyou forgotten the false promises of pardon made in former times, thefate of Egmont and Horn, the noble Montigney and other lords? Theyventured it and entered the tiger's den. What we buy to-day will surelybe taken from us tomorrow, for what oath would be sacred to Philip? I amno statesman, but I know this--if he would restore all our liberties, hewill never grant the one thing, without which life is valueless."
"What is that, Herr Peter?"
"The privilege of believing according to the dictates of our hearts. Youmean fairly, noble sir;--but you trust the Spaniard, we do not; if wedid, we should be deceived children. You have nothing to fear for yourreligion, we everything; you believe that the number of troops and powerof gold will turn the scales in our conflict, we comfort ourselveswith the hope, that God will give victory to the good cause of a bravepeople, ready to suffer a thousand deaths for liberty. This is myopinion, and I shall defend it in the town-hall."
"No, Meister Peter, no! You cannot, ought not."
"What I can do is little, what I ought to do is written within, and Ishall act accordingly."
"And thus obey the sorrowing heart rather than the prudent head, and beable to give naught save evil counsel. Consider, man, Orange's last armywas destroyed on Mock Heath."
"True, my lord, and for that very reason we will not use the moments forwords, but deeds."
"I'll take the hint myself, Herr Van der Werf, for many friends of theking still dwell in Leyden, who must be taught not to follow you blindlyto the shambles."
At these words Van der Werff retreated from the nobleman, clenched hismoustache firmly in his right hand, and raising his deep voice to alouder tone, said coldly and imperiously:
"Then, as guardian of the safety of this city, I command you to quitLeyden instantly. If you are found within these walls after noonto-morrow, I will have you taken across the frontiers by thecity-guard."
The baron withdrew without any form of leave-taking.
As soon as the door had closed behind him, Van der Werff, threw himselfinto his arm-chair and covered his face with his hands. When he againsat erect, two large tear-drops sparkled on the paper which had lainunder his fingers. Smiling bitterly, he wiped them from the page withthe back of his hand.
"Dead, dead," he murmured, and the image of the gallant youth, theclever mediator, the favorite of William of Orange, rose before hismind--he asked himself how this fresh stroke of fate would affect thePrince, whom he revered as the providence of the country, admired andloved as the wisest, most unselfish of men.
William's affliction grieved him as sorely as if it had fallen uponhimself, and the blow that had struck the cause of freedom was a heavyone, perhaps never to be overcome.
Yet he only granted himself a short time to indulge in grief, for thepoint in question now was to summon all the nation's strength to repairwhat was lost, avert by vigorous acts the serious consequences whichthreatened to follow Louis's defeat, and devise fresh means to carry onthe war.
He paced up and down the room with frowning brow, inventing measuresand pondering over plans. His wife had opened the door, and now remainedstanding on the threshold, but he did not notice her until she calledhis name and advanced towards him.
In her hand she held part of the flowers the boy had brought, anotherportion adorned her bosom.
"Take it," she said, offering him the bouquet. "Adrian, dear boy,gathered them, and you surely know what they mean."
He willingly took the messengers of spring, raised them to his face,drew Maria to his breast, pressed a long kiss upon her brow, and thensaid gloomily:
"So this is the celebration of the first anniversary of our wedding-day.Poor wife! The Glipper was not so far wrong; perhaps it would have beenwiser and better for me not to bind your fate to mine."
"How can such thoughts enter your mind, Peter!" she exclaimedreproachfully.
"Louis of Nassau has fallen," he murmured in a hollow tone, "his army isscattered."
"Oh-oh!" cried Maria, clasping her hands in horror, but he continued:
"It was our last body of troops. The coffers are empty, and where weare to obtain new means, and what will happen now--this, this--Leave me,Maria, I beg you. If we don't profit by the time now, if we don't findthe right paths now, we shall not, cannot prosper."
With these words he threw the bouquet on the table, hastily seized apaper, looked into it, and, without glancing at her, waved his righthand.
The young wife's heart had been full, wide open, when she entered theroom. She had expected so much that was beautiful from this hour, andnow stood alone in the apartment he still shared with her. Her arms hadfallen by her side; helpless, mortified, wounded, she gazed at him insilence.
Maria had grown up amid the battle for freedom, and knew how to estimatethe grave importance of the tidings her husband had received. During hiswooing he had told her that, by his side, she must expect a life full ofanxiety and peril, yet she had joyously gone to the altar with the bravechampion of the good cause, which had been her father's, for she hadhoped to become the sharer of his cares and struggles. And now? What wasshe permitted to be to him? What did he receive from her? What had heconsented to share with her, who could not feel herself a feeble woman,on this, the anniversary of their wedding-day.
There she stood, her open heart slowly closing and struggling againsther longing to cry out to him, and say that she would as gladly bear hiscares with him and share every danger, as happiness and honor.
The burgomaster, having now found what he sought, seized his hat andagain looked at his wife.
How pale and disappointed she was!
His heart ached; he would so gladly have given expression in wordsto the great, warm love he felt for her, offered her joyouscongratulations; but in this hour, amid his grief, with such anxietiesburdening his breast, he could not do it, so he only held out bothhands, saying tenderly:
"You surely know what you are to me, Maria, if you do not, I willtell you this evening. I must meet the members of the council at thetown-hall, or a whole day will be lost, and at this time we must beavaricious even of the moments. Well, Maria?"
The young wife was gazing at the floor. She would gladly have flown tohis breast, but offended pride would not suffer her to do so, and somemysterious power bound her hands and did not permit her to lay them inhis.
"Farewell," she said in a hollow tone.
"Maria!" he exclaimed reproachfully. "To-day is no well-chosen time forpouting. Come and be my sensible wife."
She did not move instantly; but he heard the bell ring for the fourthhour, the time when the session of the council ended, and left the roomwithout looking back at her.
The little bouquet still lay on the writing-table; the young wife sawit, and with difficulty restrained her tears.