Three days later the ladies returned to Leyden. Within an hour of theirarrival the Count called, and was admitted.
"Stay with me," said Lysbeth to her Aunt Clara as the visitor wasannounced, and for a while she stayed. Then, making an excuse, shevanished from the room, and Lysbeth was left face to face with hertormentor.
"Why do you come here?" she asked; "I have given you my answer."
"I come for your own sake," he replied, "to give you my reasonsfor conduct which you may think strange. You remember a certainconversation?"
"Perfectly," broke in Lysbeth.
"A slight mistake, I think, Jufvrouw, I mean a conversation about anexcellent friend of yours, whose spiritual affairs seem to interestyou."
"What of it, Senor?"
"Only this; I have made inquiries and----"
Lysbeth looked up unable to conceal her anxiety.
"Oh! Jufvrouw, let me beg of you to learn to control your expression;the open face of childhood is so dangerous in these days."
"He is my cousin."
"I know; were he anything more, I should be so grieved, but we can mostof us spare a cousin or two."
"If you would cease amusing yourself, Senor----"
"And come to the point? Of course I will. Well, the result of myinquiries has been to find out that this worthy person _is_ a heretic ofthe most pernicious sort. I said inquiries, but there was no need for meto make any. He has been----"
"Not denounced," broke in Lysbeth.
"Oh! my dear lady, again that tell-tale emotion from which all sorts ofthings might be concluded. Yes--denounced--but fortunately to myself asa person appointed under the Edict. It will, I fear, be my duty to havehim arrested this evening--you wish to sit down, allow me to hand you achair--but I shall not deal with the case myself. Indeed, I proposeto pass him over to the worthy Ruard Tapper, the Papal Inquisitor, youknow--every one has heard of the unpleasant Tapper--who is to visitLeyden next week, and who, no doubt, will make short work of him."
"What has he done?" asked Lysbeth in a low voice, and bending down herhead to hide the working of her features.
"Done? My dear lady, it is almost too dreadful to tell you. Thismisguided and unfortunate young man, with another person whom thewitnesses have not been able to identify, was seen at midnight readingthe Bible."
"The Bible! Why should that be wrong?"
"Hush! Are you also a heretic? Do you not know that all this heresysprings from the reading of the Bible? You see, the Bible is a verystrange book. It seems that there are many things in it which, whenread by an ordinary layman, appear to mean this or that. When read by aconsecrated priest, however, they mean something quite different. In thesame way, there are many doctrines which the layman cannot find in theBible that to the consecrated eye are plain as the sun and the moon.The difference between heresy and orthodoxy is, in short, the differencebetween what can actually be found in the letter of this remarkablework, and what is really there--according to their holinesses."
"Almost thou persuadest me----" began Lysbeth bitterly.
"Hush! lady--to be, what you are, an angel."
There came a pause.
"What will happen to him?" asked Lysbeth.
"After--after the usual painful preliminaries to discover accomplices,I presume the stake, but possibly, as he has the freedom of Leyden, hemight get off with hanging."
"Is there no escape?"
Montalvo walked to the window, and looking out of it remarked thathe thought it was going to snow. Then suddenly he wheeled round, andstaring hard at Lysbeth asked,
"Are you really interested in this heretic, and do you desire to savehim?"
Lysbeth heard and knew at once that the buttons were off the foils. Thebantering, whimsical tone was gone. Now her tormentor's voice was sternand cold, the voice of a man who was playing for great stakes and meantto win them.
She also gave up fencing.
"I am and I do," she answered.
"Then it can be done--at a price."
"What price?"
"Yourself in marriage within three weeks."
Lysbeth quivered slightly, then sat still.
"Would not my fortune do instead?" she asked.
"Oh! what a poor substitute you offer me," Montalvo said, with a returnto his hateful banter. Then he added, "That offer might be consideredwere it not for the abominable laws which you have here. In practice itwould be almost impossible for you to hand over any large sum, much ofwhich is represented by real estate, to a man who is not your husband.Therefore I am afraid I must stipulate that you and your possessionsshall not be separated."
Again Lysbeth sat silent. Montalvo, watching her with genuine interest,saw signs of rebellion, perchance of despair. He saw the woman's mentaland physical loathing of himself conquering her fears for Dirk. Unlesshe was much mistaken she was about to defy him, which, as a matter offact, would have proved exceedingly awkward, as his pecuniary resourceswere exhausted. Also on the very insufficient evidence which hepossessed he would not have dared to touch Dirk, and thus to makehimself a thousand powerful enemies.
"It is strange," he said, "that the irony of circumstances should reduceme to pleading for a rival. But, Lysbeth van Hout, before you answerI beg you to think. Upon the next movements of your lips it dependswhether that body you love shall be stretched upon the rack, whetherthose eyes which you find pleasant shall grow blind with agony in thedarkness of a dungeon, and whether that flesh which you think desirableshall scorch and wither in the furnace. Or, on the other hand, whethernone of these things shall happen, whether this young man shall go free,to be for a month or two a little piqued--a little bitter--about theinconstancy of women, and then to marry some opulent and respectedheretic. Surely you could scarcely hesitate. Oh! where is theself-sacrificing spirit of the sex of which we hear so much? Choose."
Still there was no answer. Montalvo, playing his trump card, drew fromhis vest an official-looking document, sealed and signed.
"This," he said, "is the information to be given to the incorruptibleRuard Trapper. Look, here written on it is your cousin's name. Myservant waits for me in your kitchen. If you hesitate any longer, I callhim and in your presence charge him to hand that paper to the messengerwho starts this afternoon for Brussels. Once given it cannot be recalledand the pious Dirk's doom is sealed."
Lysbeth's spirit began to break. "How can I?" she asked. "It is truethat we are not affianced; perhaps for this very reason which I nowlearn. But he cares for me and knows that I care for him. Must I then,in addition to the loss of him, be remembered all his life as littlebetter than a light-of-love caught by the tricks and glitter of such aman as you? I tell you that first I will kill myself."
Again Montalvo went to the window, for this hint of suicide was mostdisconcerting. No one can marry a dead woman, and Lysbeth was scarcelylikely to leave a will in his favour. It seemed that what troubled herparticularly was the fear lest the young man should think her conductlight. Well, why should she not give him a reason which he would be thefirst to acknowledge as excellent for breaking with him? Could she, aCatholic, be expected to wed a heretic, and could he not be made to tellher that he was a heretic?
Behold an answer to his question! The Saints themselves, desiring thatthis pearl of price should continue to rest in the bosom of the trueChurch, had interfered in his behalf, for there in the street below wasDirk van Goorl approaching Lysbeth's door. Yes, there he was dressedin his best burgher's suit, his brow knit with thought, his stephesitating; a very picture of the timid, doubtful lover.
"Lysbeth van Hout," said the Count, turning to her, "as it chances theHeer Dirk van Goorl is at your door. You will admit him, and this mattercan be settled one way or the other. I wish to point out to you howneedless it is that the young man should be left believing that you havetreated him ill. All which is necessary is that you should ask whetheror no he is of your faith. If I know him, he will not lie to you. Thenit remains only for you to say--for doubtless the man comes here to s
eekyour hand--that however much it may grieve you to give such an answer,you can take no heretic to husband. Do you understand?"
Lysbeth bowed her head.
"Then listen. You will admit your suitor; you will allow him to makehis offer to you now--if he is so inclined; you will, before giving anyanswer, ask him of his faith. If he replies that he is a heretic, youwill dismiss him as kindly as you wish. If he replies that he is a trueservant of the Church, you will say that you have heard a different taleand must have time to make inquiries. Remember also that if by one jotyou do otherwise than I have bid you, when Dirk van Goorl leaves theroom you see him for the last time, unless it pleases you--to attendhis execution. Whereas if you obey and dismiss him finally, as the doorshuts behind him I put this Information in the fire and satisfy you thatthe evidence upon which it is based is for ever deprived of weight anddone with."
Lysbeth looked a question.
"I see you are wondering how I should know what you do or do not do.It is simple. I shall be the harmless but observant witness of yourinterview. Over this doorway hangs a tapestry; you will grant me theprivilege--not a great one for a future husband--of stepping behind it."
"Never, never," said Lysbeth, "I cannot be put to such a shame. I defyyou."
As she spoke came the sound of knocking at the street door. Glancing upat Montalvo, for the second time she saw that look which he had wornat the crisis of the sledge race. All its urbanity, its careless_bonhomie_, had vanished. Instead of these appeared a reflection of thelast and innermost nature of the man, the rock foundation, as it were,upon which was built the false and decorated superstructure that heshowed to the world. There were the glaring eyes, there the grinningteeth of the Spanish wolf; a ravening brute ready to rend and tear, ifso he might satisfy himself with the meat his soul desired.
"Don't play tricks with me," he muttered, "and don't argue, for thereis no time. Do as I bid you, girl, or on your head will be thispsalm-singing fellow's blood. And, look you, don't try setting him onme, for I have my sword and he is unarmed. If need be a heretic may bekilled at sight, you know, that is by one clothed with authority. Whenthe servant announces him go to the door and order that he is to beadmitted," and picking up his plumed hat, which might have betrayed him,Montalvo stepped behind the arras.
For a moment Lysbeth stood thinking. Alas! she could see no possibleescape, she was in the toils, the rope was about her throat. Eithershe must obey or, so she thought, she must give the man she loved to adreadful death. For his sake she would do it, for his sake and might Godforgive her! Might God avenge her and him!
Another instant and there came a knock upon the door. She opened it.
"The Heer van Goorl stands below," said the voice of Greta, "wishing tosee you, madam."
"Admit him," answered Lysbeth, and going to a chair almost in the centreof the room, she seated herself.
Presently Dirk's step sounded on the stair, that known, beloved step forwhich so often she had listened eagerly. Again the door opened andGreta announced the Heer van Goorl. That she could not see the CaptainMontalvo evidently surprised the woman, for her eyes roamed round theroom wonderingly, but she was too well trained, or too well bribed, toshow her astonishment. Gentlemen of this kidney, as Greta had from timeto time remarked, have a faculty for vanishing upon occasion.
So Dirk walked into the fateful chamber as some innocent andunsuspecting creature walks into a bitter snare, little knowing thatthe lady whom he loved and whom he came to win was set as a bait to ruinhim.
"Be seated, cousin," said Lysbeth, in a voice so forced and strainedthat it caused him to look up. But he saw nothing, for her head wasturned away from him, and for the rest his mind was too preoccupied tobe observant. By nature simple and open, it would have taken muchto wake Dirk into suspicion in the home and presence of his love andcousin, Lysbeth.
"Good day to you, Lysbeth," he said awkwardly; "why, how cold your handis! I have been trying to find you for some time, but you have alwaysbeen out or away, leaving no address."
"I have been to the sea with my Aunt Clara," she answered.
Then for a while--five minutes or more--there followed a strained andstilted conversation.
"Will the booby never come to the point?" reflected Montalvo, surveyinghim through a join in the tapestry. "By the Saints, what a fool helooks!"
"Lysbeth," said Dirk at last, "I want to speak to you."
"Speak on, cousin," she answered.
"Lysbeth, I--I--have loved you for a long while, and I--have come to askyou to marry me. I have put it off for a year or more for reasons whichI hope to tell you some day, but I can keep silent no longer, especiallynow when I see that a much finer gentleman is trying to win you--I meanthe Spanish Count, Montalvo," he added with a jerk.
She said nothing in reply. So Dirk went on pouring out all his honestpassion in words that momentarily gathered weight and strength, till atlength they were eloquent enough. He told her how since first they methe had loved her and only her, and how his one desire in life was tomake her happy and be happy with her. Pausing at length he began tospeak of his prospects--then she stopped him.
"Your pardon, Dirk," she said, "but I have a question to ask of you,"and her voice died away in a kind of sob. "I have heard rumours aboutyou," she went on presently, "which must be cleared up. I have heard,Dirk, that by faith you are what is called a heretic. Is it true?"
He hesitated before answering, feeling that much depended on thatanswer. But it was only for an instant, since Dirk was far too honest aman to lie.
"Lysbeth," he said, "I will tell to you what I would not tell to anyother living creature, not being one of my own brotherhood, for whetheryou accept me or reject me, I know well that I am as safe in speakingto you as when upon my knees I speak to the God I serve. I _am_ what youcall a heretic. I am a member of that true faith to which I hope to drawyou, but which if you do not wish it I should never press upon you. Itis chiefly because I am what I am that for so long I have hung back fromspeaking to you, since I did not know whether it would be right--thingsbeing thus--to ask you to mix your lot with mine, or whether I ought tomarry you, if you would marry me, keeping this secret from you. Only theother night I sought counsel of--well, never mind of whom--and we prayedtogether, and together searched the Word of God. And there, Lysbeth, bysome wonderful mercy, I found my prayer answered and my doubts solved,for the great St. Paul had foreseen this case, as in that Book all casesare foreseen, and I read how the unbelieving wife may be sanctified bythe husband, and the unbelieving husband by the wife. Then everythinggrew clear to me, and I determined to speak. And now, dear, I havespoken, and it is for you to answer."
"Dirk, dear Dirk," she replied almost with a cry, "alas! for the answerwhich I must give you. Renounce the error of your ways, make confession,and be reconciled to the Church and--I will marry you. Otherwise Icannot, no, and although I love you, you and no other man"--here she putan energy into her voice that was almost dreadful--"with all my heartand soul and body; I cannot, I cannot, I cannot!"
Dirk heard, and his ruddy face turned ashen grey.
"Cousin," he replied, "you seek of me the one thing which I must notgive. Even for your sake I may not renounce my vows and my God asI behold Him. Though it break my heart to bid you farewell and livewithout you, here I pay you back in your own words--I cannot, I cannot,I cannot!"
Lysbeth looked at him, and lo! his short, massive form and hissquare-cut, honest countenance in that ardour of renunciation hadsuffered a change to things almost divine. At that moment--to her sightat least--this homely Hollander wore the aspect of an angel. She groundher teeth and pressed her hands upon her heart. "For his sake--to savehim," she muttered to herself--then she spoke.
"I respect you for it, I love you for it more than ever; but, Dirk, itis over between us. One day, here or hereafter, you will understand andyou will forgive."
"So be it," said Dirk hastily, stretching out his hand to find his hat,for he was too blind to see. "It is a strange answe
r to my prayer, avery strange answer; but doubtless you are right to follow your lightsas I am sure that I am right to follow mine. We must carry our cross,dear Lysbeth, each of us; you see that we must carry our cross. Only Ibeg of you--I don't speak as a jealous man, because the thing has gonefurther than jealousy--I speak as a friend, and come what may while Ilive you will always find me that--I beg of you, beware of the Spaniard,Montalvo. I know that he followed you to the coast; I have heard too heboasts that he will marry you. The man is wicked, although he took mein at first. I feel it--his presence seems to poison the air, yes, thisvery air I breathe. But oh! and I should like him to hear me say it,because I am sure that he is at the bottom of all this, his hour willcome. For whatever he does he will be paid back; he will be paid backhere and hereafter. And now, good-bye. God bless you and protect you,dear Lysbeth. If you think it wrong you are quite right not to marry me,and I know that you will keep my secret. Good-bye, again," and liftingher hand Dirk kissed it. Then he stumbled from the room.
As for Lysbeth she cast herself at full length, and in the bitterness ofher heart beat her brow upon the boards.
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