by Georg Ebers
CHAPTER V.
The next morning two horsemen, dressed in neat livery, were waitingbefore the door of a handsome House in Nobelstrasse, near themarket-place. A third was leading two sturdy roan steeds up and down,and a stable-boy held by the bridle a gaily-bedizened, long maned pony.This was intended for the young negro lad, who stood in the door-wayof the house and kept off the street-boys, who ventured to approach, byrolling his eyes and gnashing his white teeth at them.
"Where can they be?" said one of the mounted men: "The rain won't keepoff long to-day."
"Certainly not," replied the other. "The sky is as grey as my oldfelt-hat, and, by the time we reach the forest, it will be pouring."
"It's misting already."
"Such cold, damp weather is particularly disagreeable to me."
"It was pleasant yesterday."
"Button the flaps tighter over the pistol-holsters! The portmanteaubehind the young master's saddle isn't exactly even. There! Did the cookfill the flask for you?"
"With brown Spanish wine. There it is."
"Then let it pour. When a fellow is wet inside, he can bear a great dealof moisture without."
"Lead the horses up to the door; I hear the gentlemen."
The man was not mistaken; for before his companion had succeeded instopping the larger roan, the voices of his master, Herr Matanesse VanWibisma, and his son, Nicolas, were heard in the wide entry.
Both were exchanging affectionate farewells with a young girl, whosevoice sounded deeper than the halfgrown boy's.
As the older gentleman thrust his hand through the roan's mane and wasalready lifting his foot to put it in the stirrup, the young girl, whohad remained in the entry, came out into the street, laid her hand onWibisma's arm, and said:
"One word more, uncle, but to you alone."
The baron still held his horse's mane in his hand, exclaiming with acordial smile:
"If only it isn't too heavy for the roan. A secret from beautiful lipshas its weight."
While speaking, he bent his ear towards his niece, but she did not seemto have intended to whisper, for she approached no nearer and merelylowered her tone, saying in the Italian language:
"Please tell my father, that I won't stay here."
"Why, Henrica!"
"Tell him I won't do so under any circumstances."
"Your aunt won't let you go."
"In short, I won't stay."
"I'll deliver the message, but in somewhat milder terms, if agreeable toyou."
"As you choose. Tell him, too, that I beg him to send for me. If hedoesn't wish to enter this heretic's nest himself, for which I don'tblame him in the least, he need only send horses or the carriage forme."
"And your reasons?"
"I won't weight your baggage still more heavily. Go, or the saddle willbe wet before you ride off."
"Then I'm to tell Hoogstraten to expect a letter."
"No. Such things can't be written. Besides, it won't be necessary. Tellmy father I won't stay with aunt, and want to go home. Good-bye, Nico.Your riding-boots and green cloth doublet are much more becoming thanthose silk fal-lals."
The young lady kissed her hand to the youth, who had already swunghimself into the saddle, and hurried back to the house. Her uncleshrugged his shoulders, mounted the roan, wrapped the dark cloak closeraround him, beckoned Nicolas to his side, and rode on with him inadvance of the servants.
No word was exchanged between them, so long as their way led through thecity, but outside the gate, Wibisma said:
"Henrica finds the time long in Leyden; she would like to go back to herfather."
"It can't be very pleasant to stay with aunt," replied the youth.
"She is old and sick, and her life has been a joyless one."
"Yet she was beautiful. Few traces of it are visible, but her eyes arestill like those in the portrait, and besides she is so rich."
"That doesn't give happiness."
"But why has she remained unmarried?" The baron shrugged his shoulders,and replied: "It certainly didn't suit the men."
"Then why didn't she go into a convent?"
"Who knows? Women's hearts are harder to understand than your Greekbooks. You'll learn that later. What were you saying to your aunt as Icame up?"
"Why, just see," replied the boy, putting the bridle in his mouth,and drawing the glove from his left hand, "she slipped this ring on myfinger."
"A splendid emerald! She doesn't usually like to part with such things."
"She first offered me another, saying she would give it to me to makeamends for the thumps I received yesterday as a faithful follower of theking. Isn't it comical?"
"More than that, I should think."
"It was contrary to my nature to accept gifts for my bruises, and Ihastily drew my hand back, saying the burgher lads had taken some homefrom me, and I wouldn't have the ring as a reward for that."
"Right, Nico, right."
"So she said too, put the little ring back in the box, found this one,and here it is."
"A valuable gem!" murmured the baron, thinking: "This gift is a goodomen. The Hoogstratens and he are her nearest heirs, and if the sillygirl doesn't stay with her, it might happen--"
But he found no time to finish these reflections, Nicolas interruptedthem by saying:
"It's beginning to rain already. Don't the fogs on the meadows look likeclouds fallen from the skies? I am cold."
"Draw your cloak closer."
"How it rains and hails! One would think it was winter. The water in thecanals looks black, and yonder--see--what is that?"
A tavern stood beside the road, and just in front of it a single loftyelm towered towards the sky. Its trunk, bare as a mast, had grownstraight up without separating into branches until it attained theheight of a house. Spring had as yet lured no leaves from the boughs,but there were many objects to be seen in the bare top of the tree. Asmall flag, bearing the colors of the House of Orange, was fastened toone branch, from another hung a large doll, which at a distance stronglyresembled a man dressed in black, an old hat dangled from a third, and afourth supported a piece of white pasteboard, on which might be read inlarge black letters, which the rain was already beginning to efface:
"Good luck to Orange, to the Spaniard death. So Peter Quatgelat welcomes his guests."
This tree, with its motley adornments, offered a by no means pleasantspectacle, seen in the grey, cold, misty atmosphere of the rainy Aprilmorning.
Ravens had alighted beside the doll swaying to and fro in the wind,probably mistaking it for a man. They must have been by no meansteachable birds, for during the years the Spaniards had ruled inHolland, the places of execution were never empty. They were screechingas if in anger, but still remained perched on the tree, which theyprobably mistook for a gibbet. The rest of the comical ornaments andthe thought of the nimble adventurer, who must have climbed up to fastenthem, formed a glaring and offensive contrast to the caricature of thegallows.
Yet Nicolas laughed loudly, as he perceived the queer objects in the topof the elm, and pointing upward, said:
"What kind of fruits are hanging there?"
But the next instant a chill ran down his back, for a raven perched onthe black doll and pecked so fiercely at it with its hard beak, thatbird and image swayed to and fro like a pendulum.
"What does this nonsense mean?" asked the baron, turning to the servant,a bold-looking fellow, who rode behind him.
"It's something like a tavern-sign," replied the latter."Yesterday, when the sun was shining, it looked funny enough--butto-day--b-r-r-r-it's horrible."
The nobleman's eyes were not keen enough to read the inscription on theplacard. When Nicolas read it aloud to him, he muttered an oath, thenturned again to the servant, saying:
"And does this nonsense bring guests to the rascally host's tavern?"
"Yes, my lord, and 'pon my soul, it looked very comical yesterday, whenthe ravens were not to be seen; a fellow couldn't look at it withoutlaughi
ng. Half Leyden was there, and we went with the crowd. Therewas such an uproar on the grass-plot yonder. Dudeldum--Hubutt,Hubutt--Dudeldum--fiddles squeaking and bag-pipes droning as if theynever would stop. The crazy throng shouted amidst the din; the noisestill rings in my ears. There was no end to the games and dancing. Thelads tossed their brown, blue and red-stockinged legs in the air, justas the fiddle played--the coat-tails flew and, holding a girl claspedin the right arm and a mug of beer high over their heads till the foamspattered, the throng of men whirled round and round. There was as muchscreaming and rejoicing as if every butter-cup in the grass had beenchanged into a gold florin. But to-day--holy Florian--this is a rain!"
"It will do the things up there good," exclaimed the baron. "The tindergrows damp in such a torrent, or I'd take out my pistols and shoot theshabby liberty hat and motley tatters off the tree."
"That was the dancing ground," said the man, pointing to a patch oftrampled grass.
"The people are possessed, perfectly possessed," cried the baron,"dancing and rejoicing to-day, and tomorrow the wind will blow thefelt-hat and flag from the tree, and instead of the black puppet theythemselves will come to the gallows. Steady roan, steady! The hailfrightens the beasts. Unbuckle the portmanteau, Gerrit, and give youryoung master a blanket."
"Yes, my lord. But wouldn't it be better for you to go in here until theshower is over? Holy Florian!
"Just see that piece of ice in your horse's mane! It's as large asa pigeon's egg. Two horses are already standing under the shed, andQuatgelat's beer isn't bad." The baron glanced inquiringly at his son.
"Let us go in," replied Nicolas; "we shall get to the Hague earlyenough. See how poor Balthasar is shivering! Henrica says he's a whiteboy painted; but if she could see how well he keeps his color in thisweather, she would take it back."
Herr Van Wibisma turned his dripping, smoking steed, frightened bythe hail-stones, towards the house, and in a few minutes crossed thethreshold of the inn with his son.