Lysbeth, a Tale of the Dutch

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Lysbeth, a Tale of the Dutch Page 48

by H. Rider Haggard


  When Adrian had seen the wounded Spanish soldiers and their bearerstorn to pieces by the rabble, and had heard the great door of theGevangenhuis close upon Foy and Martin, he turned to go home with hisevil news. But for a long while the mob would not go home, and had itnot been that the drawbridge over the moat in front of the prison wasup, and that they had no means of crossing it, probably they would haveattacked the building then and there. Presently, however, rain began tofall and they melted away, wondering, not too happily, whether, inthat time of daily slaughter, the Duke of Alva would think a few commonsoldiers worth while making a stir about.

  Adrian entered the upper room to tell his tidings, since they mustbe told, and found it occupied by his mother alone. She was sittingstraight upright in her chair, her hands resting upon her knees, staringout of the window with a face like marble.

  "I cannot find him," he began, "but Foy and Martin are taken after agreat fight in which Foy was wounded. They are in the Gevangenhuis."

  "I know all," interrupted Lysbeth in a cold, heavy voice. "My husband istaken also. Someone must have betrayed them. May God reward him! Leaveme, Adrian."

  Then Adrian turned and crept away to his own chamber, his heart so fullof remorse and shame that at times he thought that it must burst. Weakas he was, wicked as he was, he had never intended this, but now, ohHeaven! his brother Foy and the man who had been his benefactor, whomhis mother loved more than her life, were through him given over to adeath worse than the mind could conceive. Somehow that night wore away,and of this we may be sure, that it did not go half as heavily withthe victims in their dungeon as with the betrayer in his free comfort.Thrice during its dark hours, indeed, Adrian was on the point ofdestroying himself; once even he set the hilt of his sword upon thefloor and its edge against his breast, and then at the prick of steelshrank back.

  Better would it have been for him, perhaps, could he have kept hiscourage; at least he would have been spared much added shame and misery.

 

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