Part 15 (2/2)
He obeyed, and glancing at her face, saw that it was very calm and cold as winter ice.
”Listen, Heer Adrian,” she said. ”You mean this kindly, and doubtless many a maid would be flattered by your words, but I must tell you that I am in no mood for love-making.”
”Because of another man?” he queried, and suddenly becoming theatrical again, added, ”Speak on, let me hear the worst; I will not quail.”
”There is no need to,” replied Elsa in the same quiet voice, ”because there is no other man. I have never yet thought of marriage, I have no wish that way, and if I had, I should forget it now when from hour to hour I do not know where my dear father may be, or what fate awaits him. He is my only lover, Heer Adrian,” and as Elsa spoke her soft brown eyes filled with tears.
”Ah!” said Adrian, ”would that I might fly to save him from all dangers, as I rescued you, lady, from the bandits of the wood.”
”I would you might,” she replied, smiling sadly at the double meaning of the words, ”but, hark, your mother is calling us. I know, Heer Adrian,” she added gently, ”that you will understand and respect my dreadful anxiety, and will not trouble me again with poetry and love-talk, for if you do I shall be-angry.”
”Lady,” he answered, ”your wishes are my law, and until these clouds have rolled from the blue heaven of your life I will be as silent as the watching moon. And, by the way,” he added rather nervously, ”perhaps you will be silent also-about our talk, I mean, as we do not want that buffoon, Foy, thrusting his street-boy fun at us.”
Elsa bowed her head. She was inclined to resent the ”we” and other things in this speech, but, above all, she did not wish to prolong this foolish and tiresome interview, so, without more words, she took her admirer by the hand and guided him down the stairs.
It was but three days after this ridiculous scene, on a certain afternoon, when Adrian had been out for the second time, that the evil tidings came. Dirk had heard them in the town, and returned home well-nigh weeping. Elsa saw his face and knew at once.
”Oh! is he dead?” she gasped.
He nodded, for he dared not trust himself to speak.
”How? Where?”
”In the Poort prison at The Hague.”
”How do you know?”
”I have seen a man who helped to bury him.”
She looked up as though to ask for further details, but Dirk turned away muttering, ”He is dead, he is dead, let be.”
Then she understood, nor did she ever seek to know any more. Whatever he had suffered, at least now he was with the G.o.d he wors.h.i.+pped, and with the wife he lost. Only the poor orphan, comforted by Lysbeth, crept from the chamber, and for a week was seen no more. When she appeared again she seemed to be herself in all things, only she never smiled and was very indifferent to what took place about her. Thus she remained for many days.
Although this demeanour on Elsa's part was understood and received with sympathy and more by the rest of the household, Adrian soon began to find it irksome and even ridiculous. So colossal was this young man's vanity that he was unable quite to understand how a girl could be so wrapped up in the memories of a murdered father, that no place was left in her mind for the tendernesses of a present adorer. After all, this father, what was he? A middle-aged and, doubtless, quite uninteresting burgher, who could lay claim to but one distinction, that of great wealth, most of which had been ama.s.sed by his ancestors.
Now a rich man alive has points of interest, but a rich man dead is only interesting to his heirs. Also, this Brant was one of these narrow-minded, fanatical, New Religion fellows who were so wearisome to men of intellect and refinement. True, he, Adrian, was himself of that community, for circ.u.mstances had driven him into the herd, but oh! he found them a dreary set. Their bald doctrines of individual effort, of personal striving to win a personal redemption, did not appeal to him; moreover, they generally ended at the stake. Now about the pomp and circ.u.mstance of the Mother Church there was something attractive. Of course, as a matter of prejudice he attended its ceremonials from time to time and found them comfortable and satisfying. Comfortable also were the dogmas of forgiveness to be obtained by an act of penitential confession, and the sense of a great supporting force whose whole weight was at the disposal of the humblest believer.
In short, there was nothing picturesque about the excellent departed Hendrik, nothing that could justify the young woman in wrapping herself up in grief for him to the entire exclusion of a person who was picturesque and ready, at the first opportunity, to wrap himself up in her.
After long brooding, a.s.sisted by a close study of the romances of the period, Adrian convinced himself that in all this there was something unnatural, that the girl must be under a species of spell which in her own interest ought to be broken through. But how? That was the question. Try as he would he could do nothing. Therefore, like others in a difficulty, he determined to seek the a.s.sistance of an expert, namely, Black Meg, who, among her other occupations, for a certain fee payable in advance, was ready to give advice as a specialist in affairs of the heart.
To Black Meg accordingly he went, disguised, secretly and by night, for he loved mystery, and in truth it was hardly safe that he should visit her by the light of day. Seated in a shadowed chamber he poured out his artless tale to the pythoness, of course concealing all names. He might have spared himself this trouble, as he was an old client of Meg's, a fact that no disguise could keep from her. Before he opened his lips she knew perfectly what was the name of his inamorata and indeed all the circ.u.mstances connected with the pair of them.
The wise woman listened in patience, and when he had done, shook her head, saying that the case was too hard for her. She proposed, however, to consult a Master more learned than herself, who, by great good fortune, was at that moment in Leyden, frequenting her house in fact, and begged that Adrian would return at the same hour on the morrow.
Now, as it chanced, oddly enough Black Meg had been commissioned by the said Master to bring about a meeting between himself and this very young man.
Adrian returned accordingly, and was informed that the Master, after consulting the stars and other sources of divination, had become so deeply interested in the affair that, for pure love of the thing and not for any temporal purpose of gain, he was in attendance to advise in person. Adrian was overjoyed, and prayed that he might be introduced. Presently a n.o.ble-looking form entered the room, wrapped in a long cloak. Adrian bowed, and the form, after contemplating him earnestly-very earnestly, if he had known the truth-acknowledged the salute with dignity. Adrian cleared his throat and began to speak, whereon the sage stopped him.
”Explanations are needless, young man,” he said, in a measured and melodious voice, ”for my studies of the matter have already informed me of more than you can tell. Let me see; your name is Adrian van Goorl-no, called Van Goorl; the lady you desire to win is Elsa Brant, the daughter of Hendrik Brant, a heretic and well-known goldsmith, who was recently executed at The Hague. She is a girl of much beauty, but one unnaturally insensible to the influence of love, and who does not at present recognise your worth. There are, also, unless I am mistaken, other important circ.u.mstances connected with the case.
”This lady is a great heiress, but her fortune is at present missing; it is, I have reason to believe, hidden in the Haarlemer Meer. She is surrounded with influences that are inimical to you, all of which, however, can be overcome if you will place yourself unreservedly in my hands, for, young man, I accept no half-confidences, nor do I ask for any fee. When the fortune is recovered and the maiden is your happy wife, then we will talk of payment for services rendered, and not before.”
”Wonderful, wonderful!” gasped Adrian; ”most learned senor, every word you say is true.”
”Yes, friend Adrian, and I have not told you all the truth. For instance-but, no, this is not the time to speak. The question is, do you accept my terms?”
”What terms, senor?”
”The old terms, without which no wonder can be worked-faith, absolute faith.”
Adrian hesitated a little. Absolute faith seemed a large present to give a complete stranger at a first interview.
”I read your thought and I respect it,” went on the sage, who, to tell truth, was afraid he had ventured a little too far. ”There is no hurry; these affairs cannot be concluded in a day.”
Adrian admitted that they could not, but intimated that he would be glad of a little practical and immediate a.s.sistance. The sage buried his face in his hands and thought.
”The first thing to do,” he said presently, ”is to induce a favourable disposition of the maiden's mind towards yourself, and this, I think, can best be brought about-though the method is one which I do not often use-by means of a love philtre carefully compounded to suit the circ.u.mstances of the case. If you will come here to-morrow at dusk, the lady of this house-a worthy woman, though rough of speech and no true adept-will hand it to you.”
”It isn't poisonous?” suggested Adrian doubtfully.
”Fool, do I deal in poisons? It will poison the girl's heart in your favour, that is all.”
”And how is it to be administered?” asked Adrian.
”In the water or the wine she drinks, and afterwards you must speak to her again as soon as possible. Now that is settled,” he went on airily, ”so, young friend, good-bye.”
”Are you sure that there is no fee?” hesitated Adrian.
”No, indeed,” answered the sage, ”at any rate until all is accomplished. Ah!” and he sighed, ”did you but know what a delight it is to a weary and world-worn traveller to help forward the bright ambitions of youth, to a.s.sist the pure and soaring soul to find the mate destined to it by heaven-ehem!-you wouldn't talk of fees. Besides, I will be frank; from the moment that I entered this room and saw you, I recognised in you a kindred nature, one which under my guidance is capable of great things, of things greater than I care to tell. Ah! what a vision do I see. You, the husband of the beautiful Elsa and master of her great wealth, and I at your side guiding you with my wisdom and experience-then what might not be achieved? Dreams, doubtless dreams, though how often have my dreams been prophetic! Still, forget them, and at least, young man, we will be friends,” and he stretched out his hand.
”With all my heart,” answered Adrian, taking those cool, agile-looking fingers. ”For years I have sought someone on whom I could rely, someone who would understand me as I feel you do.”
”Yes, yes,” sighed the sage, ”I do indeed understand you.”
”To think,” he said to himself after the door had closed behind the delighted and flattered Adrian, ”to think that I can be the father of such a fool as that. Well, it bears out my theories about cross-breeding, and, after all, in this case a good-looking, gullible fool will be much more useful to me than a young man of sense. Let me see; the price of the office is paid and I shall have my appointment duly sealed as the new Governor of the Gevangenhuis by next week at furthest, so I may as well begin to collect evidence against my worthy successor, Dirk van Goorl, his adventurous son Foy, and that red-headed ruffian, Martin. Once I have them in the Gevangenhuis it will go hard if I can't squeeze the secret of old Brant's money out of one of the three of them. The women wouldn't know, they wouldn't have told the women, besides I don't want to meddle with them, indeed nothing would persuade me to that”-and he s.h.i.+vered as though at some wretched recollection. ”But there must be evidence; there is such noise about these executions and questionings that they won't allow any more of them in Leyden without decent evidence; even Alva and the Blood Council are getting a bit frightened. Well, who can furnish better testimony than that jacka.s.s, my worthy son, Adrian? Probably, however, he has a conscience somewhere, so it may be as well not to let him know that when he thinks himself engaged in conversation he is really in the witness box. Let me see, we must take the old fellow, Dirk, on the ground of heresy, and the youngster and the serving man on a charge of murdering the king's soldiers and a.s.sisting the escape of heretics with their goods. Murder sounds bad, and, especially in the case of a young man, excites less sympathy than common heresy.”
Then he went to the door, calling, ”Meg, hostess mine, Meg.”
He might have saved himself the trouble, however, since, on opening it suddenly, that lady fell almost into his arms.
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