Part 4 (1/2)
Yet Dirk dreamed a very evil dream. He dreamed that a tall black figure leaned over him, and that a long white hand was stretched out to his bed-head where it wandered to and fro, till at last he heard the panel slide home with a rattling noise.
Then it seemed to him that he woke, and that his eyes met two eyes bent down over him, eyes which searched him as though they would read the very secrets of his heart. He did not stir, he could not, but lo! in this dream of his the figure straightened itself and glided away, appearing and disappearing as it crossed the bars of moonlight until it vanished by the door.
A while later and Dirk woke up in truth, to find that although the night was cold enough the sweat ran in big drops from his brow and body. But now strangely enough his fear was gone, and, knowing that he had but dreamed a dream, he turned over, touched the Bible on his breast, and fell sleeping like a child, to be awakened only by the light of the rising winter sun pouring on his face.
Then Dirk remembered that dream of the bygone night, and his heart grew heavy, for it seemed to him that this vision of a dark woman searching his face with those dreadful eyes was a portent of evil not far away.
CHAPTER VI
THE BETROTHAL OF LYSBETH
On the following morning when Montalvo entered his private room after breakfast, he found a lady awaiting him, in whom, notwithstanding the long cloak and veil she wore, he had little difficulty in recognising Black Meg. In fact Black Meg had been waiting some while, and being a person of industrious habits she had not neglected to use her time to the best advantage.
The reader may remember that when Meg visited the gallant Captain Montalvo upon a previous occasion, she had taken the liberty of helping herself to certain papers which she found lying just inside an unlocked desk. These papers on examination, as she feared might be the case, for the most part proved to be quite unimportant-unpaid accounts, military reports, a billet or two from ladies, and so forth. But in thinking the matter over Black Meg remembered that this desk had another part to it, which seemed to be locked, and, therefore, just in case they should prove useful, she took with her a few skeleton keys and one or two little instruments of steel and attended the pleasure of her n.o.ble patron at an hour when she believed that he would be at breakfast in another room. Things went well; he was at breakfast and she was left alone in the chamber with the desk. The rest may be guessed. Replacing the worthless bundle in the unlocked part, by the aid of her keys and instruments she opened the inner half. There sure enough were letters hidden, and in a little drawer two miniatures framed in gold, one of a lady, young and pretty with dark eyes, and the other of two children, a boy and a girl of five or six years of age. Also there was a curling lock of hair labelled in Montalvo's writing-”Juanita's hair, which she gave me as a keepsake.”
Here was treasure indeed whereof Black Meg did not fail to possess herself. Thrusting the letters and other articles into the bosom of her dress to be examined at leisure, she was clever enough, before closing and re-locking the desk, to replace them with a dummy bundle, hastily made up from some papers that lay about.
When everything had been satisfactorily arranged she went outside and chattered for a while with the soldier on guard, only re-entering the room by one door as Montalvo appeared in it through the other.
”Well, my friend,” he said, ”have you the evidence?”
”I have some evidence, Excellency,” she answered. ”I was present at the dinner that you ate last night, although none of it came my way, and-I was present afterwards.”
”Indeed. I thought I saw you slip in, and allow me to congratulate you on that; it was very well thought out and done, just as folk were moving up and down the stairs. Also, when I went home, I believe that I recognised a gentleman in the street whom I have been given to understand you honour with your friends.h.i.+p, a short, stout person with a bald head; let me see, he was called the Butcher at The Hague, was he not? No, do not pout, I have no wish to pry into the secrets of ladies, but still in my position here it is my business to know a thing or two. Well, what did you see?”
”Excellency, I saw the young man I was sent to watch and Hendrik Brant, the son of the rich goldsmith at The Hague, praying side by side upon their knees.”
”That is bad, very bad,” said Montalvo shaking his head, ”but--”
”I saw,” she went on in her hoa.r.s.e voice, ”the pair of them read the Bible.”
”How shocking!” replied Montalvo with a simulated shudder. ”Think of it, my orthodox friend, if you are to be believed, these two persons, hitherto supposed to be respectable, have been discovered in the crime of consulting that work upon which our Faith is founded. Well, those who could read anything so dull must, indeed, as the edicts tell us, be monsters unworthy to live. But, if you please, your proofs. Of course you have this book?”
Then Black Meg poured forth all her tale-how she had watched and seen something, how she had listened and heard little, how she had gone to the secret panel, bending over the sleeping man, and found-nothing.
”You are a poor sort of spy, mother,” commented the captain when she had done, ”and, upon my soul, I do not believe that even a Papal inquisitor could hang that young fellow on your evidence. You must go back and get some more.”
”No,” answered Black Meg with decision, ”if you want to force your way into conventicles you had best do it yourself. As I wish to go on living here is no job for me. I have proved to you that this young man is a heretic, so now give me my reward.”
”Your reward? Ah! your reward. No, I think not at present, for a reward presupposes services-and I see none.”
Black Meg began to storm.
”Be silent,” said Montalvo, dropping his bantering tone. ”Look, I will be frank with you. I do not want to burn anybody. I am sick of all this nonsense about religion, and for aught I care every Netherlander in Leyden may read the Bible until he grows tired. I seek to marry that Jufvrouw Lysbeth van Hout, and to do this I desire to prove that the man whom she loves, Dirk van Goorl, is a heretic. What you have told me may or may not be sufficient for my purpose. If it is sufficient you shall be paid liberally after my marriage; if not-well, you have had enough. As for your evidence, for my part I may say that I do not believe a word of it, for were it true you would have brought the Bible.”
As he spoke he rang a bell which stood upon a table, and before Meg could answer the soldier appeared.
”Show this good woman out,” he said, adding, in a loud voice, ”Mother, I will do my best for you and forward your pet.i.tion to the proper quarter. Meanwhile, take this trifle in charity,” and he pressed a florin into her hand. ”Now, guard, the prisoners, the prisoners. I have no time to waste-and listen-let me be troubled with no more beggars, or you will hear of it.”
That afternoon Dirk, filled with a solemn purpose, and dressed in his best suit, called at the house in the Bree Straat, where the door was again opened by Greta, who looked at him expectantly.
”Is your mistress in?” he stammered. ”I have come to see your mistress.”
”Alas! Mynheer,” answered the young woman, ”you are just too late. My mistress and her aunt, the Vrouw Clara, have gone away to stay for a week or ten days as the Vrouw Clara's health required a change.”
”Indeed,” said Dirk aghast, ”and where have they gone?”
”Oh! Mynheer, I do not know that, they did not tell me,” and no other answer could he extract from her.
So Dirk went away discomfited and pondering. An hour later the Captain Montalvo called, and strange to say proved more fortunate. By hook or by crook he obtained the address of the ladies, who were visiting, it appeared, at a seaside village within the limits of a ride. By a curious coincidence that very afternoon Montalvo, also seeking rest and change of air, appeared at the inn of this village, giving it out that he proposed to lodge there for a while.
As he walked upon the beach next day, whom should he chance to meet but the Vrouw Clara van Ziel, and never did the worthy Clara spend a more pleasant morning. So at least she declared to Lysbeth when she brought her cavalier back to dinner.
The reader may guess the rest. Montalvo paid his court, and in due course Montalvo was refused. He bore the blow with a tender resignation.
”Confess, dear lady,” he said, ”that there is some other man more fortunate.”
Lysbeth did not confess, but, on the other hand, neither did she deny.
”If he makes you happy I shall be more than satisfied,” the Count murmured, ”but, lady, loving you as I do, I do not wish to see you married to a heretic.”
”What do you mean, Senor?” asked Lysbeth, bridling.
”Alas!” he answered, ”I mean that, as I fear, the worthy Heer Dirk van Goorl, a friend of mine for whom I have every respect, although he has outstripped me in your regard, has fallen into that evil net.”
”Such accusations should not be made,” said Lysbeth sternly, ”unless they can be proved. Even then--” and she stopped.
”I will inquire further,” replied the swain. ”For myself I accept the position, that is until you learn to love me, if such should be my fortune. Meanwhile I beg of you at least to look upon me as a friend, a true friend who would lay down his life to serve you.”
Then, with many a sigh, Montalvo departed home to Leyden upon his beautiful black horse, but not before he had enjoyed a few minutes' earnest conversation with the worthy Tante Clara.
”Now, if only this old lady were concerned,” he reflected as he rode away, ”the matter might be easy enough, and the Saints know it would be one to me, but unhappily that obstinate pig of a Hollander girl has all the money in her own right. In what labours do not the necessities of rank and station involve a man who by disposition requires only ease and quiet! Well, my young friend Lysbeth, if I do not make you pay for these exertions before you are two months older, my name is not Juan de Montalvo.”
Three days later the ladies returned to Leyden. Within an hour of their arrival the Count called, and was admitted.
”Stay with me,” said Lysbeth to her Aunt Clara as the visitor was announced, and for a while she stayed. Then, making an excuse, she vanished from the room, and Lysbeth was left face to face with her tormentor.
”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 reasons for conduct which you may think strange. You remember a certain conversation?”
”Perfectly,” broke in Lysbeth.
”A slight mistake, I think, Jufvrouw, I mean a conversation about an excellent friend of yours, whose spiritual affairs seem to interest you.”