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diff --git a/old/67804-0.txt b/old/67804-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5372135..0000000 --- a/old/67804-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12094 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The First of the English, by Archibald -Clavering Gunter - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The First of the English - A Novel - -Author: Archibald Clavering Gunter - -Release Date: April 9, 2022 [eBook #67804] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net/ for Project Gutenberg (This - file was produced from images generously made available by - The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIRST OF THE -ENGLISH *** - - - - - - THE FIRST OF THE ENGLISH - - A NOVEL - - BY - ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER - AUTHOR OF ‘MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK’ - - - LONDON - GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, Limited - Broadway, Ludgate Hill - MANCHESTER AND NEW YORK - 1895 - - - - - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - BOOK I. - A STRANGE TRIP TO ANTWERP. - - PAGE - Chapter I.—The Flood in the Schelde, 5 - ,, II.—The Lady of the Barge, 16 - ,, III.—The Six Drunkards of Brussels, 35 - ,, IV.—The Patriot Painter, 48 - ,, V.—“The Lion’s Jaws Gape for Me!” 59 - ,, VI.—The Drinking Bout at the Painted Inn, 70 - ,, VII.—Love—By a Coup de Main, 85 - ,, VIII.—“The Ungainable!—But I’ll Gain Her!” 101 - - BOOK II. - TWIXT LOVE AND WAR. - - Chapter IX.—“No Provisions, no Water, but Plenty of - Powder!” 112 - ,, X.—The Secret of the Statue, 123 - ,, XI.—Major Guido Amati has a Spree, 131 - ,, XII.—“Get Your Daughter Out of Antwerp,” 143 - ,, XIII.—“Good Heavens! What an Introduction!” 155 - ,, XIV.—The Providence of God, 165 - ,, XV.—The Battle on Skates, 175 - ,, XVI.—The Berserker Oath, 185 - ,, XVII.—Advanced Womanhood in 1573, 194 - - BOOK III. - THE DUKE’S UNLUCKY PENNY. - - Chapter XVIII.—“Is it a Dream?” 205 - ,, XIX.—The Daughter’s Dower, 220 - ,, XX.—“Papa’s Coming! I’ll—I’ll Do It,” 228 - ,, XXI.—“My Lord of Alva,” 235 - ,, XXII.—“Oho! The Fox at Last!” 249 - ,, XXIII.—“It is an Affair of State,” 258 - - - - - - - - - - -THE FIRST OF THE ENGLISH. - - -BOOK I. - -A STRANGE TRIP TO ANTWERP. - - -CHAPTER I. - -THE FLOOD IN THE SCHELDE. - - -“First officer, where’s the boatswain?” - -“Forward, sir, seeing the best bower cleared,” returns Harry Dalton, -the ranking lieutenant of the Dover Lass. - -“Very well, pass the word for the boatswain. He has the best nose on -board this ship,” shouts Captain Guy Stanhope Chester. - -“Aye, aye, sir!” - -This being done, the young skipper, for he is hardly twenty-five, -shaking the spray and sea water out of his tarpaulin, gropes his way to -the binnacle, the lantern of which is shaded, partly to protect it from -the weather and partly to prevent its light giving indication of the -vessel’s whereabouts through the darkness of the night. - -Taking the course of the vessel he glances at the two men lashed by the -tiller to prevent their being washed overboard by the waves that have -been chasing the ship ever since she left the white cliffs of England, -and remarks: “Better cast yourselves loose lads, we are in quieter -water now. There’s a bit of Flanders between us and the worst of the -gale.” - -A moment after the boatswain makes his appearance, a weather-beaten old -tar of England; one of the new class of deep-water sailors that are -being made by Drake and Frobisher in voyages to the Spanish Main and -far Pacific. Plucking a grisly lock, this worthy, who would be all sea -dog did he not wear a battered, steel breast-plate, salutes his -captain, who says: - -“How long since we passed Flushing, Martin Corker?” - -“About four bells, your honor.” - -“Two hours! I make it the same. Could you distinguish the place with -your eye, boatswain?” asks Guy, clutching the mizzen rattlings of the -Dover Lass, as she lurches before the northwest gale and rising tide. - -“Not on this dark night, sir; but I made out the soundings by my lead, -the land with my eye, and the slaughter houses on the shore with my -nose.” - -“So did I,” laughs Captain Chester. “You and I, Martin, have been up -the Schelde often enough to nose out the channel on as dark a night as -this, though the cursed Spaniards have torn up every buoy on the -river.” - -Then the young skipper, leading the first officer aside, continues very -seriously and with knitted brows: “No chance of our meeting any of -Alva’s galleys out in this chop sea on such a night as this.” - -“No,” growls Dalton, “these Spanish lubbers are fair weather sailors.” - -“Besides, in such a gale,” adds the captain, “the Dover Lass would make -a fool of the bravest and biggest Spanish galleon that ever wallowed -through the ocean;” and he looks with the pride and love of a sailor at -the trim little ship, upon whose quarter-deck he stands, as she dashes -through the waves of the Schelde estuary, tossing the water that comes -over her bow gracefully into her lee scuppers, with the South Beveland -on her lee and Flanders on her weather quarter. - -But the night is so inky and the spray so blinding, Guy Chester’s sharp -eyes can only discern half of his trim little vessel of about a hundred -and thirty-five feet long, and two hundred and fifty tons burden, -rigged in a fashion peculiar to the times of Queen Elizabeth of -England, with three masts, the main and the fore square-rigged, and the -mizzen felucca-like, with a long lateen yard, from which would be -expanded a fore and aft spanker, were not the vessel under storm -canvas. - -Below this top-hamper the Dover Lass shows on her decks as pretty a set -of snarling teeth as any vessel of her size that sails from the shores -of merry England—six long demi-culverins throwing nine-pound balls, on -each broadside; four minions on her quarter-deck, three falcons as -murdering pieces on her forecastle, and half a dozen serpentines -mounted as swivels at convenient places on her bulwarks, which are -unusually low for a vessel of that day. In this matter of cabins and -bulwarks the Dover Lass is rather an anomaly, carrying no high poop nor -forecastle, and consequently able to beat to windward with much greater -facility than the ordinary ships of the sixteenth century. - -Round the butts of her masts in racks are quantities of cutlasses, -boarding pikes and battle axes; the arquebuses and pistols being kept -by the armorer in the forecastle or in the captain’s cabin. - -Her crew, some hundred and twenty-five of as jovial sea dogs as ever -cut a throat or scuttled a ship, are out of their hammocks to-night, -every man Jack of them; lying in as comfortable places as they can find -between the guns on the weather side of the deck and cracking -sailor-jokes with each other in a manner unusual to a government -cruiser. - -Altogether the Dover Lass has the appearance of a man-of-war, though -not its absolute discipline; and is evidently one of those vessels -fitted out by private individuals to trade if they could, fight if they -must, and plunder the “Dons” everywhere and all the time; similar to -the ships that, under Drake and Frobisher and old John Hawkins, were a -greater terror to the Spaniards than any of the Queen’s vessels -themselves. - -“This is rather different to a week ago,” mutters the first officer, -“when you, Captain Chester, were flaunting it with court beauties at -Shene and Windsor.” - -“And you were making love to every pretty lass in Harwich,” laughs his -superior. - -These remarks, though intended to be whispers, are really shouted, each -man with his mouth at the other’s ear, for the screeching of the wind -through the rigging and the smacks of the combing waves as they lash -the vessel would almost drown the voice of old Stentor himself. - -A moment later the boatswain touches his grisled lock and calls out to -the captain: “Hadn’t I better get the second bower clear also?” - -“Yes, we may need it with this sea,” assents the captain; while the -first officer caustically remarks: “By old Boreas Bill, this is a -rip-roarer of a night!” - -“Aye, worse on shore than at sea,” answers Guy, bringing his tarpaulin -close around him with one hand and with the other trying to keep on his -head his sou’ wester, from under which a few Saxon curls blow out in -spite of his efforts. All the time the three are stamping savagely on -the deck, shaking off the water that comes flying over the rail, and -restoring circulations that have been impaired by the searching -northwester which has been beating upon them all this awful night. - -And it is an awful night; one of those nights that impresses itself -upon the memory of suffering mankind by the widows it makes and the -orphans it leaves; a night in which the sea drowns the land; a night in -which the dykes go down before the dash of the ocean, which, tearing -huge sluices in them, rushes through to make the unprotected meadows -and growing orchards the beds of roaring torrents and deep salt seas -that drown awakened farmers and affrighted peasants with their flying -wives and children, in Flanders, Brabant, Zeeland, Friesland, and the -islands and polders of both the Hollands; a night that brought up -another wail from the Netherlanders, rich and poor, noble and -bourgeoisie, who had been undergoing the tortures and burnings and -flayings of Philip II. and Alva, his viceroy, for five long years; a -night when the long-continued northwest gale blowing in from the German -Ocean upon the unprotected dykes of Holland, supported by a tide of -wondrous strength and height, sweeps in upon the defenseless -Netherlands to remind them of that great flood shuddered at for -centuries—that of the first of November, All Saints’ night, of -1570—though this one is nearly two years afterwards, in the early -spring of 1572. Evidences of the misery of the land soon come out of -the darkness of the night. Lights move about hurriedly on the South -Beveland shore, and the cries of a hundred drowning peasants come -shrieking on the gale. - -“By Saint George, there’s a dyke gone!” cries Chester to his -lieutenant, then he mutters: “God help the poor wretches, we can’t!” as -the ship speeds by, the gale now a little upon her starboard quarter. - -A minute later he commands hurriedly: “Call two quartermasters and -heave the log.” - -This being done, he suddenly mutters: “Ten knots—and the tide four -more! Two hours! We must be abeam of the Krom Vliet; the Drowned Lands -are on our lee bow,” then cries hurriedly to his lieutenant: “Go -forward and see both the anchors are ready. We must bring up under the -lee of South Beveland, in the slack water where the tide coming up the -East Schelde meets the current of the main channel. If we get into the -main river with this wind and tide our anchors will hardly hold us this -side the Fort of Lillo, and that means capture and death to every man, -Alva’s death—you know what that is!” - -To this the lieutenant shortly mutters, “I know!” and goes hurriedly -forward, where he can be seen directing the men who have been summoned -by the boatswain’s call. Chester, standing beside the tiller, cons the -vessel himself, giving his orders to the two helmsmen. - -Half a minute later Martin Corker, the boatswain, comes staggering aft -over the ship’s slippery deck and hoarsely whispers: “Boats ahead!” - -“How do you know? you couldn’t see them to-night.” - -“Lights!” - -“Ah! the lights of Sandvliet.” - -“No, boats! pistols firing—arquebuses! I saw the flashes of their guns -three points on the lee bow, in the slack water under the shore of -Beveland!” - -“Then I can catch these boats,” whispers the captain. - -With this the nature of the man comes suddenly out; his wonderful -rapidity of thought and action. He cries: “Order all hands to stand by -to wear ship. Send twenty men aft to handle the lateen sail! See the -two anchors stoppered at thirty fathoms! Tell the starboard division to -arm themselves with pikes, cutlasses and axes—only steel. I want no -noise about this business! Order three men to stand on the weather bow -with grappling hooks.” - -A minute later he sees the flashes of firearms a cable’s length ahead -broad upon his larboard bow. - -“Helm a starboard!” he cries to the men at the tiller. “That’s enough; -steer small, I tell you. Set the spanker!” - -A minute after they are just passing the boats, and nicely calculating -for the drift, which is tremendous, he suddenly wears his ship, giving -his orders by speaking trumpet. “Hard a starboard—slack away the lee -braces. Haul taut the weather fore and main braces!” And as soon as the -vessel comes round bracing his fore yards very sharply and jibbing his -lateen sail, which, though nearly blown from its bolt ropes, drives the -vessel hurriedly into the slack water formed by the current of the East -Schelde meeting that rushing in by the main estuary. - -The next minute he has ranged up alongside two boats, and his starboard -division, taking tow lines in their hands, have sprung into the boats, -boarding them and capturing them. - -These are soon swinging alongside of his lee quarter, protected from -the sea and the wind, while he is dropping anchor in the slack water -formed by the South Beveland flats and marshes. - -There has apparently been no contest in the boats, as his men have -taken their occupants too much by surprise. - -A minute later the boatswain clambers back on board the Dover Lass and -reports: “We’ve got ’em both!” - -“What are they?” - -“One’s an enemy and one’s a friend.” - -“Who’s the friend?” - -“Dirk Duyvel and his band of Sea Beggars; and Dirk’s thunderin’ mad and -swears he is being badly treated.” - -“Who’s the enemy?” - -“A Spanish pleasure galley or State barge, judgin’ by the fol-de-rols -and awnings.” - -“Who are on board her?” - -“Rowers, who are begging for their lives, and two or three women, all -of ’em fainted but one. There was an Italian, Spaniard or something, -but Duyvel and his band when they captured the boat tied a rope round -him, threw him overboard and towed him, and I guess he’s drowned by -this time.” - -“Very well, pull the Italian up and bring him on board. Also send Dirk -to me.” - -A minute later a stalwart-looking Dutch sea-dog comes over the side, -stamping his heavy boots and uttering a curse with every stamp. - -“Come here, Dirk, what are you growling about?” laughs the young -captain. - -“What am I growling about? Donder en Bliksem! I’m growling about YOU! -What have you come between me and my prize for? Who are you, anyway?” - -“You don’t recognize me, Dirk? Come this way.” - -The captain throws open the door of his cabin and motions the Dutch -seaman in. There is a flickering candle or two and a swinging lamp -hanging from the skylight transom that give a subdued and melancholy -glow to the scene, though the darkness of the night has been so intense -that both the Dutchman and Englishman blink their eyes as they enter. - -A second later Dirk cries: “Bij den hemel! I didn’t recognize the -voice. It’s Captain Chester, the First of the English!” - -This nickname that he gives to Guy is one the Hollanders had bestowed -on him upon his first making his appearance among them as secret scout, -envoy and general agent of Queen Elizabeth; though England, being -nominally at peace with Spain, his sovereign has publicly disavowed the -acts of this man who has been risking his life for her interests day by -day, and night by night, off the coasts of the Hollands, watching the -unequal fight the Netherlanders are making against the power of Philip -of Spain, and the frightful cruelties, ravages, burnings, flayings, -killings and torturings of Alva, his viceroy. This soubriquet, De -Eersteling der Engelschen, the First of the English, has apparently -been given in the faint hope of his not being the last of the English; -that others will come over after him and help them fight for freedom of -thought, and that they will be, if not openly protected, at least -secretly supported, by the power of the daughter of Henry VIII., whom -Philip has sworn to crush, as well as them, in the interests of his -religion. For, utterly defeated at Jemmingen, and out-generaled and -dispersed at Friesland, their Staatholder and Prince now in exile in -Germany, the adherents of William the Silent have no hope, save in the -active intervention, or at least covert assistance, of England. - -On recognizing the Saxon the face of Dirk Duyvel assumes a sleepy -smile, though he mutters savagely: “Captain Chester, your act is not -the act of a Beggar of the Sea.” - -“Odds, herrings and turbots! You know I am one of you just the same,” -laughs the young man, exhibiting a medal which is strung about his -neck, from which hang two or three Beggars’ cups in metal, and on which -is inscribed: “En tout fidelles au Roy!” and an armed bust of Philip -II. of Spain. - -“It’s a curious emblem for an English subject to wear,” continues Guy, -“but since I joined and became one of you, for the purposes of the one -who—who sent me here,” he hesitates a little over his words, “I have -acted to you as a brother Gueux, and abided by the principles of the -Beggars of the Sea—if they have any. Have they, Dirk?” he jeers. -“Answer me, you sea robber. Didn’t you steal your own brother’s vessel -last year?” - -“Well, there’s two sides to that story, captain,” guffaws the Dutchman. -Then he goes on anxiously: “But you’re not going to steal my prize?” - -“No, only to help you take care of it. And you need my aid to-night; -for in this wind, without me, you would never get back to your vessels. -Where are they?” - -“About four miles down the East Schelde, round the point.” - -“Then your boat would never make them. You would be blown into -Sandvliet or past the forts and into Alva’s grip, unless you landed on -a dyke and took the chance of being shot off-hand by his Spanish -mercenaries. You couldn’t anchor your boats here, they’d be swamped; -without the lee of my vessel you would be in the arms of the mermaids -in ten minutes, or in Alva’s hands in two hours. Which would be worst?” - -“I think Alva would be worstest for me and for you! He hates the ‘First -of the English’ more as even he does us rebels,” grins the Dutchman. He -shivers though, at that name, dreaded by every Netherlander, and more -than all by those he had made outlaws, and forced for very livelihood -to become, under the name of Gueux (Beggars of the Sea), half way -pirates and robbers, though still apostles of freedom under William of -Orange. - -“Now, what have you captured? Tell me all about it,” breaks in the -Englishman, who has bright, flashing steel blue eyes and dancing, -gallant, wavy chestnut hair, in strong contrast to the Hollander, who -has a quiet, sleepy, soft countenance, embellished with a contented -grin—one Dirk Duyvel never changed, whether saying his prayers, looting -a ship, or cutting a Spaniard’s throat. - -“Well, we drifted down here,” he answers. “The gale wasn’t as high -then, or we wouldn’t have come. We saw a dyke burst down this side of -Sandvliet and went over to take charge of the farmers’ goods, so if -they came to life again we might return em. While doing this we saw a -barge put off from a pleasure house that was being washed out, and it -looked as if there might be plunder aboard. Well, we followed it. It -was trying to get into the river to go to Antwerp, but we shot the -sailors, and had just captured the boat and thrown an Italian overboard -and were looking for plunder, and finding none, except the women, three -of whom fainted when I talked to ’em and told what we were going to do -with ’em, when you came alongside; and before I knew it I was down with -two of your swash-bucklers on top of me with daggers at my throat, -making remarks about my life.” - -This dissertation is here interrupted by the entry of the boatswain, -who touches his cap and deposits an inanimate and drowned form upon the -cabin locker, remarking sententiously: “The Italian’s come aboard, -captain.” - -“Let’s see if we can get life into him.” - -But after a short examination Chester makes the sign of the cross and -whispers: “He’s past revival. All the leeches, surgeons and -blood-letters on earth couldn’t make his heart beat again,” placing his -hand upon the man’s bosom. - -Even as he says this he suddenly starts and exclaims: “There’s -something in the breast of his coat; something sewn in.” - -“Duivelsch! Is it money he’s got in his jacket?” screams the Dutch -freebooter; then he continues sorrowfully: “And to think that we missed -it when we searched his pockets before we threw him overboard. Is it -money? If it is, it’s MY money.” - -“It isn’t money, its papers,” remarks Chester, cutting away the -Italian’s doublet and pulling out a packet carefully wrapped in oiled -silk. - -“Then if it’s only papers, you can have them,” observes the Netherland -Beggar of the Sea generously. The Englishman is examining the documents -that are disclosed to him. - -A moment more of perusal and Guy appears surprised; then deeply -impressed, mutters to himself: “I wonder—can it be?—I can’t make out -the accursed Spanish cipher.” - -Two minutes more of anxious inspection and a sudden flash comes in his -eyes. - -He turns to Dirk Duyvel and says shortly: “How much do you want for -your capture? All of it! You have given me the papers, now what do you -want for the boat?” - -“The boat’s a fine boat!” - -“But it’s no use to you!” - -“And then there’s the three women. I might get a ransom for them.” - -“From whom?” - -“From their fathers or brothers or lovers; they wouldn’t like to know -that they were carried off by the Beggars of the Sea, the champions of -freedom,” says Duyvel with a hideous chuckle, “and one of ’em is very -beautiful.” - -“Humph! how could you see this dark night?” - -“I couldn’t see, I heard. Her voice is as sweet as the softest stop in -the grand organ at Amsterdam, the one they call the ‘angel’s voice.’” - -“What do you want for the whole lot?” asks the Englishman, trying to -appear indifferent, and attempting the tone of a man making a bargain -at a haberdasher’s. - -“A thousand crowns.” - -“Three hundred,” answers Chester, shortly. - -“Five hundred crowns, anyway.” - -“Three hundred in silver,” and the young captain opens a locker in his -cabin and produces a bag of carolus guilders. “Better take this in -hand,” he says, “than bargain on the shore, with the chance of being -captured and strung up. Three hundred for the whole lot, women, boat, -everything, and I take the goods off your hands!” - -“What do you want to do with them?” - -“That’s my business,” says the Englishman, looking once more over the -papers he has taken from the dead Spaniard or Italian, for the dress -and appearance of the dead man indicates that he is such. “And I’ll -tell you what I’ll do,” continues Guy, “if this matter turns out as it -may, I’ll make it two hundred more on my next return from England.” - -“Well, the plunder is yours, only count the money down.” - -This is soon done, Chester writing a receipt and quittance for the -same, which the Dutchman signs. A moment later Captain Guy remarking -carelessly: “Duyvel, you had better lie by us in your boat till -morning, or you will never outlive this storm,” steps on deck, and -taking his first officer aside, says shortly: “You will take command of -this vessel, Lieutenant Dalton, until my return.” - -“You are going to leave the ship to-night?” - -“Yes, some information that I have just received makes it necessary -that I go to Antwerp to-night.” - -“To Antwerp! Into Alva’s clutches; INTO HIS VERY JAWS?” - -“Yes.” - -“How?” - -“In that Spanish barge lying beside us.” - -“You’ll take some of your men?” - -“No.” - -“Your life won’t be worth a florin.” - -“Oh yes it will. The cowardly rowers down there won’t give me any -trouble. You know I learnt the Spanish lingo in Hispaniola, and speak -it so well that I almost despise myself for it. I shall go as a Spanish -officer, under the name used by me in my former visits to Antwerp, -Capitan Guido Amati. I shall pose as the rescuer of that lady in the -boat alongside; that is, if things turn out as I expect. Have the -cutter off the nearest dyke down the river below Fort Lillo to meet me -by to-morrow noon.” - -“You are taking your life in your hands. You’re doing more than this, -you are throwing it away,” objects the first officer very anxiously. - -“I’d do both for my bonny Queen Bess, whose hand I kissed before -leaving England,” whispers the young man. “Now I will see my prisoner.” - -Seizing a rope he swings himself over the low gunwale and a moment -after is standing among his men, who are still on guard in the Spanish -pleasure galley—one second later Guy Chester hears the softest, -sweetest, most coquettishly alluring voice he has ever heard since his -ears opened to the sounds of man—or woman. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -THE LADY OF THE BARGE. - - -No tones have ever thrilled Guy Chester so before, though in the almost -impenetrable gloom of the night its witchery has no assistance from -graceful figure, fascinating face, nor flashing eyes. It is the voice -alone that charms him. It says: “Señor, are you an officer? Have you -authority among these wild men?” - -The speaking figure has risen at the commotion made by Chester’s -springing into the boat. Perhaps even in the darkness the lady notes -the salute from his men by which he is received. The tongue in which -the lady speaks is Spanish, pure, refined; the exquisite Spanish of the -Castilian. - -“I have, señorita,” replies Guy, answering in the same language, though -his accent and diction are almost barbarous beside her liquid idiom. -The sound of the Spanish language seems to reassure the lady, who, -stepping from beneath the awning that adorns and protects the stern of -the boat, confronts Chester, and in tones that are part pleading and -part commanding, says: “Tell me who you are?” - -“A captain in Romero’s regiment of Sicilians. Not born in Spain, as you -may note by my accent,” returns the young Englishman, adding, “My -birthplace was in Hispaniola.” - -“Ah! an officer of Spain,” cries the lady joyously; “then your ship is -Spanish?” - -“Certainly,” returns the Englishman, who, having made up his mind to -deceive, does it with full hand and wholesome measure. - -“Then,” replies the lady, her voice now growing strangely confident and -commanding, “Señor Capitan, you will attend me at once to the city of -Antwerp, guarding me on the way.” A moment after she continues: “And I -hope you will have those wretched Hollander cut-throats, those insolent -Sea Beggars, punished as soon as possible. They have murdered the -captain and soldiers of my barge, they have drowned the poor secretary -of the Marquis de Cetona, Chiapin Vitelli.” - -At the name of Vitelli, Chester gives a sudden start. “Certainly, -señorita,” he answers promptly. “Every ruffian of them shall be hanged -to the yard-arm as soon as your barge is out of sight.” - -“But you must go with me; I have commanded!” - -“Your words are my orders,” says Guy gallantly, trying to keep down a -smile, as he thinks that his fair captive assumes a strange authority. -“The captain of the vessel will attend to the punishment of the -marauders after we have left.” - -“You will be ready to accompany me soon.” The tone coming to him in the -darkness is that of one accustomed to command, though marvelously sweet -and winning. - -“In fifteen minutes,” answers Chester with soldierly promptness; then -he continues, a touch of gallantry in his voice: “May I not send you -some supper from the vessel? The night is very cold.” - -“No, I am well wrapped up. My attendants can chafe my hands, and we -have some excellent Spanish wine and other refreshments in the locker -of the barge. Only be quick, or we shall not be in Antwerp before -morning.” - -“As soon as possible I will return.” With these words Guy springs -lightly out of the boat and clambers over the gunwale of his own -vessel. - -Then hurriedly drawing aside his first officer, who has been looking -over at this colloquy, he says: “It has all turned out as I wished. -Besides, I know a little more. This dead man in the cabin (whom you -will throw overboard as soon as possible) is the secretary of that -accursed Chiapin Vitelli!” - -“The scoundrel who is aiding Alva in his plans against the life of our -sovereign!” interjects Dalton. - -“Yes. This thing makes it doubly important that I go to Antwerp. I may -even stay there some days. Keep the boat off and on near the dyke below -Fort Lillo, as I have commanded.” - -“You are taking desperate chances,” mutters his subordinate, -dissentingly. - -“But they are chances I must take. In case anything happens to me, in -case I—I do not come back, tell my Queen it was for her sake. Return -with the vessel, Dalton, to England and utter to our Sovereign these -words: ‘Be more on your guard of Spanish poison or Spanish dagger than -ever. It is the last warning you will hear from your devoted liegeman, -Guy Stanhope Chester.’” - -With this the young captain steps into his cabin, and within ten -minutes, as he re-opens the door, the dim light displays him as a -different man. - -No longer the weather-beaten sailor in tarpaulin and sou’wester, but as -gay and debonnaire a young gallant as ever flaunted with the court -ladies of Hampton, or ruffled it in the tennis courts of Windsor or -Westminster. - -A light blue velvet cap surmounted by two long white plumes fastened by -a diamond clasp is on his youthful head; round his neck a long Spanish -collar of the lace of Venice; his velvet doublet slashed with silver -and satin; his hose and trunks of the finest silk of France; his high -Spanish boots of the softest bronze morocco leather. In this gallant -garb, with his blue, flashing eyes, and laughing lips and curly hair, -Guy Stanhope Chester makes as brave a figure as even Dudley, Earl of -Leicester, himself, when he charmed the Queen of England and her maids -of honor. - -Perhaps even more so, for his face is honest and his smile sincere, -though there is a determined expression in his face as he steps out of -his cabin and examines carefully the priming of the two long pistols he -has in his belt, and thrusts his hand in his bosom to be sure that the -long, keen poniard is in its place, and claps his hand on sword hilt to -assure himself that his trusty long Toledo cut-and-thrust rapier is -right to his hand. For the chances of this visit to the great city of -the Netherlands, which Alva holds in his grasp, mean to him the chances -of not merely success nor failure, but the chances of life and death. -With the caution of common sense, Guy has given himself the appearance -of Catholic and Spanish cavalier; he has discarded the medal of the -Gueux and wears instead, quite ostentatiously, a rosary of golden beads -and ornamented cross. - -In making this change he has displaced from his bosom a miniature set -in diamonds, a portrait of a girl of wondrous Castilian beauty, upon -which he has cast eyes of longing and muttered these curious words: “My -only prize from all of Alva’s treasures I captured for my queen—if I -could gain the original.” - -Altogether the gallant array of Guy Chester makes a sensation on his -quarter-deck, even affecting the imperturbable sea robber, Dirk Duyvel, -who sits just outside the cabin calmly counting his three hundred -florins. This worthy remarks: “Hel en duivel! but she must be a pretty -wench!” And his first lieutenant, aye, even the second, venture to -crack a joke or two upon his appearance, Dalton remarking: “By the Four -Evangelists! This foray means love as well as blood!” - -And the second mate, who is hardly more than a chunky round-faced boy, -gives a wild guffaw as he whispers into his skipper’s ear: “Take me -with you, please, Captain Chester, for your cruise on shore. There are -other ladies in the boat besides the one for whom you are arrayed!” - -“My poor boy, the run on shore would be the death of you,” remarks the -captain, then he suddenly strides back into the cabin, muttering to -himself: “By the Seven Champions of Christendom, that voice has nearly -made me lose my common sense. I was going without any money; that would -have been very dangerous.” - -With these words he empties into his pocket from one of the lockers of -his cabin a small bag of Spanish gold, and thrusts into the other a -loose assortment of Spanish florins, Dutch crowns and Netherland -stivers. As he turns away, catching view of himself in a small mirror -of Venetian glass that is set in the cabin side between the two stern -port holes, Guy Chester suddenly ejaculates: “And I was forgetting my -boat cloak also. That would have been comfortable in this nor’wester.” - -As he speaks he throws over his finery a long ample cloak of English -wool, and the next second he is over the side of the ship into the -Spanish barge, which, being cleared rapidly of his men, is now cast off -from the ship. - -At this he, going to the stern, takes the tiller in his hand and cries -out in commanding Spanish: “Give way, ye dogs of rowers! The man who -straightens his back or misses his stroke until we are at Antwerp dies -by my hand.” For he fears that the slightest fault of cadence in the -stroke may put the boat broadside to the wind and current, which would -be fatal in this chop sea, rapid tide and strong gale. - -“You seem to be a seaman as well as a soldier,” remarks the young -Spanish lady, by whose side he is now seated. - -“Yes, I have done a little of everything in the way of fighting, both -by land and sea,” returns Guy, drawing somewhat closer to the alluring -voice. - -“I shall always look upon you,” murmurs the lady, “as my preserver of -this night.” - -Then she astounds and almost horrifies him, for she says patronizingly: -“This has been a lucky night for you. Señor Capitan; for this I will -have you made a Colonel!” - -This assertion is made by the sweet voice beside him as confidently as -if it came from the Queen of Spain herself. Its very assurance sends a -cold thrill down the Englishman’s back. “Who the deuce can she be?” he -wonders. “I am putting my head into Alva’s very hand in escorting her -to Antwerp.” - -But to turn back is now impossible. The boat is already in the main -current; both wind and tide are now sweeping them to Antwerp on the -flood, that bears beside them the bodies of drowned men and cattle, -giving evidence of the devastation the ocean is working upon the -Netherlands. - -“And whom am I to thank for this wondrous promotion?” Guy ventures -insinuatingly, for he is now desperately curious to know the name of -the lady sitting beside him. - -“You may call me Doña Hermoine,” answers the fair one in a tone that -indicates that she is sufficiently well known to be recognizable -without any further description or attachment. A moment after she -speaks to one of her attendants, who is kneeling beside her, chafing -her hands, for the night is very cold, saying quietly: “That will do, -Alida, try to warm yourself.” - -“Yes, Excelentisima,” answers the girl. - -This high-sounding title only adds to a curiosity that Chester can -gratify no further. He is compelled to devote every faculty of his -mind, every muscle of his body, to keeping the boat dead before the -wind and current as it flies up the Schelde. A single false movement of -the rudder might cause it to broach, and that would be destruction on -this wild night. - -He can scarce find time to direct the attendants of the lady to place -tarpaulins at her back and to protect her as much as possible from the -spray that is following them; every other energy is employed in keeping -the frail boat safe in her race with the wild waters round them. He has -no trouble with the oarsmen; they row as if they knew their lives -depended on their toil. - -So they fly on. - -A dark lowering mass upon his right hand indicates the grim Fort of -Lillo. This passed Guy knows he is in the very hands of Alva, in the -Spanish lines. But they dash ahead, passing ships that have broken from -their moorings, and are drifting with the tide; others that have taken -refuge in the various estuaries and coves of the Schelde. No boats are -out this wild night; the storm has driven everything to shelter. No -Spanish galleys patrol the river; but the lights upon the dykes show -that the husbandmen are awake, trying to save their live stock and -themselves. - -A little later the lady, who all this time has been compelled to devote -herself to keeping warm by many stampings of tiny feet and clappings of -delicate hands, in which she has been assisted by her attendants, -suddenly says: “Can you not take a little refreshment, Señor Capitan? -Even a glass of wine? Your exertions for my safety have been untiring.” - -“For God’s sake don’t take my attention from the boat!” mutters Guy -between set teeth. “We’re running a bend of the river. The wind will be -on our quarter. It is our lives that I’m fighting for.” - -Then he settles himself again to the struggle, for the current and wind -are not now exactly together, and it makes his task at the tiller even -more difficult. - -But after making this bend, which is just before they reach the water -front of Antwerp, the wind, broken by the land, becomes less fierce, -and the rising tide, which has almost reached its height, grows less -violent and rapid. - -“Thank God, we’re over the worst of it,” Guy says with a sigh of -relief. “Now I’ll thank you for a glass of wine, fair lady; the night -is fearfully cold;” this last comes from between chattering teeth. - -“Oho!” almost laughs the fair one at his side. “Silk, satin and velvet -are not as conducive to comfort, Señor Capitan, as your storm clothes -and tarpaulins when you first boarded my barge. It is necessary to -suffer in order to be beautiful. Your fine raiment is, I presume, for -some fair lady of Antwerp, Capitan mio.” - -“Yes, for a very fair one,” mutters Guy, whose boat cloak has blown -from his shoulders, and whose lace cuffs have brushed the lady’s wrist, -as he holds the silver goblet to his mouth and permits the very finest -old Spanish wine that has ever trinkled down his throat to revive his -circulation and reanimate his chilled form. - -The elixir seems to bring his spirits back again, and he laughs. - -“Another goblet, please, which I will drink to the fair lady’s health!” -And this being given him, Guy says, with sailor audacity and youthful -ardor, “To you!” looking with all his eyes at the fair one ministering -to him, hoping that their flash will even pierce the darkness. For he -has touched the hand that has tendered the goblet, and it is wondrously -soft and dainty, and the whole bearing and demeanor of his fair -companion is that of bright, vivacious, joyous youth; the youth that -age may envy but never simulate; the youth the gods give but once; the -youth that even inky darkness cannot hide. - -Besides, thrown by a quick lurch of the boat, she has been close -against his bosom—once; but in that fleeting touch he has discerned the -figure of a Venus and the agile graces of a Hebe. - -“Who in the name of all the saints can she be?” he wonders. - -At his audacious toast the lady draws herself away quite hurriedly, -with a subdued ejaculation, partly of surprise, partly of hauteur. A -moment after she laughs the laugh of youth, enchanting, bewitching; and -remarks: “Such toasts will draw upon you the wrath of my duenna.” - -“Your duenna! She is not here!” - -“Oh, yes. She has been present during our whole journey. My awful -duenna lies on the seat immediately in front of you. The smell of -powder always makes the Countess de Pariza faint. She always becomes -insensible when her ward is in greatest danger. At the first fire by -the Beggars of the Sea she fainted comfortably away, and has been -insensible ever since. When we arrive at Antwerp she will probably have -her sharp eyes open.” - -“Then before they do open tell me about yourself,” whispers Guy -gallantly, for he can now devote a little of his time to the lady, into -whose face he would look with admiring eyes did the darkness permit. - -“First tell me about yourself,” she answers a little hurriedly, a tone -of interest in her voice that pleases the young gentleman. “The more I -know about you the better I can aid you to become a colonel. What is -your name?” - -“Call me Captain Guido,” murmurs Chester in his tenderest voice. - -“No other name?” - -“I cannot give you my other name. I am absent from my regiment without -leave.” - -“Then it will be very difficult to promote you,” laughs the lady. Next -she says: “But since you will not trust me with your name, tell me -something about your former life.” - -This Guy does, inventing a story of birth in Hispaniola, various -combats by land and sea for the glory of the flag of Spain in Italy and -the Netherlands, giving the lady beside him an idea that he is devoted -to the Spanish cause, body and soul, a grand hater of all enemies of -Mother Church, and weaving about himself a web of romance and a tissue -of falsehoods that some day may rise up to strike him down; for his -fair companion thinks him a true soldier of Philip of Spain and his -viceroy, Don Fernando Alvarez de Toledo, Duke of Alva and Huesca. - -“Ah!” she murmurs, “a gallant soldier. I must make you a colonel!” - -“And the full name of my benefactress?” - -Perchance she would answer this; but at this moment the lights of -Antwerp come into view. The whole city’s front is illuminated by moving -lanterns, vessels are being transported to safe anchorages; the immense -shipping of the port is on the alert this night to save themselves from -the flood. The merchants of this, the richest city in all Europe, are -busy on the quays trying to preserve the merchandise of the Indies and -the produce of Northern Europe from damage and wreck from the rising -tide that is sweeping over the half-submerged quays and docks of this -great emporium of sixteenth century commerce. - -“Where will you land?” says Guy hurriedly. - -Her answer is such that it almost makes the strong man beside her -tremble. She says nonchalantly: “I think you had better take me to the -Citadel.” - -“The Cit—a—del,” stammers Guy. - -“Yes, Sancho d’Avila, its governor, will be proud to make me welcome -to-night.” - -“You can pass the sentries? You know the passwords of the night?” -mutters Chester, feeling himself growing cold at the thought of -entering Alva’s very garrison. - -“Certainly. They sent me the words of to-night.” - -“Give them to me, please, so that I may pass you through the guard.” - -“That of to-night,” she says, “is Jemmingen.” - -“And the countersign?” - -“Santa Maria de la Cruz. You may need it, being an officer without -leave,” she whispers; then adds with a slight laugh, “I have, perhaps, -saved you from arrest. That is a little earnest of my gratitude.” - -They are now speeding past the main town. The English quay is already -behind them, and they are opposite the great middle dock, the huge -warehouses of which are all alight, while gangs of men with waving -torches are on the adjacent wharves and ships, trying to moor the -vessels safe from the rushing flood and to salvage their cargoes, many -of which are already half unloaded. A few Spanish war galleys are in -motion, their slaves toiling at their immense oars towing to places of -more secure anchorage some of the sailing galleons, now helpless in -this heavy gale. - -Above all this turmoil and commotion the shouts of sailors, the curses -of captains, the screams of the galley slaves under the lash, the -flashing lights of the town and harbor, for all Antwerp is up this -night, come the silvery chimes of the grand cathedral, whose tower -sounds the quarter of the hour before midnight. - -As they pass they are hailed by a patrol boat, but giving the word of -the night, Chester steers his barge upon its course unimpeded and -unstayed. - -So they fly past the city proper, skirting a further line of wooden -wharves and quays, behind which can be seen the city walls and -gates—not as strongly built, nor as elaborately fortified as those -protecting the land side of the town, but still garrisoned and guarded, -and their Spanish sentries on the alert, for this night of storm and -flood has roused not only the burghers of Antwerp to save their wares -and chattels, but the Spanish garrison of the place, to see that no -outbreak occurs during this commotion produced by wind and tide. - -A few moments after, beyond the Esplanade, or parade ground, that -separates the citadel from the town, can be seen the flickering lights -of the two river bastions of the vast fortification built by Alva, not -to protect, but to dominate and crush this great commercial city which -is now within his hands. - -Gazing up the flood, Chester’s quick seaman’s eye discovers the danger -of approaching the massive walls that line the moat. With the tide -running as it does, and the wind blowing as it blows, their boat will -be smashed like an eggshell against the stonework. He speaks hurriedly: -“Is there not some other watergate? If I try to make the landing on -this side it is death. Speak quick, for God’s sake—answer me!” - -“Yes! A small sally-port beyond the second bastion.” The liquid voice -beside him is nervous and agitated. The waves of the Schelde are -foaming against the masonry of the Spaniard. - -“That’s it!” cries Chester, and steering the boat with rare precision -into the deep moat that surrounds the citadel, which the flood now -makes a rushing torrent, they fly past the great somber Bastion of the -Duke, and a moment later that named after Alva himself. Here, sheltered -to a great extent from the wind behind the massive walls of this -stronghold of Spanish power, the boat makes landing at a small -sally-port situated on a little artificial island in the middle of the -moat, and connected by a light, movable bridge with the main citadel -between the huge bastions of Alva and Paciotto, the latter named after -the great engineer who planned and built this great frowning pentagon -with its five massive redoubts, considered the strongest fortress of -its day. - -As the boat makes its landing the sentry stationed there challenges, -and receives as answer from the Englishman the word of the night. At -this the drawbridge is let down and lights from flaming torches flash -upon them, causing Chester to discover what darkness has heretofore -concealed from him, that the boat he has been piloting all this night -is evidently a State galley, whose fittings and awnings are decorated -in exquisite art and ornamented with Spanish stamped leather bearing -the arms of the Viceroy himself. But he has no time to speculate upon -this. - -“My duenna,” says the lady hurriedly. “We must rouse her for the sake -of etiquette, Señor Capitan, we must rouse the Countess de Pariza!” - -This is easily done, for the court dame has apparently been reviving -for some little time, and a couple of goblets of the same Spanish wine -that had cheered the young sailor bring almost immediate speech to the -chaperone. She ejaculates, looking round with wild eyes: “Holy Virgin! -I am alive. Santa Maria! The citadel of Antwerp. I am saved!” - -Then this sentinel of etiquette and punctilio rises and puts a pair of -haughty patrician eyes upon the Englishman, and exclaims hurriedly: -“Who is this man?” - -“The gentleman who has preserved us from the Beggars of the Sea,” -answers the young lady of the barge. - -On this Chester, not wishing further discussion as to his identity, -suddenly offers his arm to the fair one, who is still cloaked and -hooded, and who, as the lights have flashed upon her, has drawn over -her face a Spanish veil. A moment later Guy feels a little thrill as -his offer is accepted, and a tiny hand is slipped within his arm. - -Another second and he has assisted her from the boat and is passing -with her across the drawbridge, followed by the two attendants -supporting the duenna, who is apparently not yet very strong upon her -feet, and is in a state of semi-hysterics. - -Just as they get to the last of the drawbridge Guy hears a sudden wild -shriek behind him, and desperate as is his situation, before the very -citadel of Alva, the open gate of which is waiting to engulf him, he -cannot refrain from an hilarious chuckle as he discovers that the -Spanish duenna has slipped upon the wet drawbridge and is now being -pulled half drowned from the waters of the moat. As her attendants -somewhat unskillfully assist her, the countess, falling into a wild -rage, throws etiquette to the winds and, with chattering teeth, and -mouth full of water, stammers that the two attendant hussies shall pay -for their awkwardness. - -But Chester’s laugh dies away as the sentries at the gate bar their -passage by crossed pikes, and their ensign says hoarsely: “The -countersign, señor!” - -“Santa Maria de la Cruz” whispers Guy. - -The pikes drop as the officer waves his sword, and they step past him -through the heavy Gothic archway. At this moment a light flashing from -a flambeau stuck into a niche in the heavy masonry falls upon the lady, -outlining her figure more strongly. Catching sight of this the Spanish -officer doffs his steel cap, and bowing to the very ground, says: “Had -I known it was you, Excelentisima, my challenge would not have been so -peremptory!” - -“You but did your duty, señor,” says the unknown. A second later she -has left Guy’s arm and having taken the young officer aside, who stands -before her with uncovered bended head, is whispering something to him -in Spanish very rapidly. - -A portion of the ensign’s answer comes to Guy’s ear: “No, -Excelentisima, he has not arrived from Brussels.” - -“Then papa will not be anxious for me this night,” says the lady -quickly. Retaking Chester’s arm she says to the young officer: “You -will attend us to the quarters of the Countess of Mansfeld.” - -A moment later, preceded by the Spanish ensign, they pass through the -gateway to the main parade ground of the Citadel, and passing between -piles of cannon balls and all the vast implements of attack and defense -of the great fortress, move towards what are apparently the officers’ -quarters. From the windows of one of these, evidently much larger and -more commodious and elegant than the rest, come the lights of festival -and the music of the dance. Situated immediately in the rear of the -bastion of Paciotto, the distance to this is quite short, and Guy has -little chance of conversation with his companion, being compelled to -speed by the storm, which is still cold and biting, and causes the lady -to hug her wraps very tightly about her. - -They enter at a little side door of the house, a man servant in -gorgeous livery receiving them and immediately bowing to the earth. - -“The countess expected me?” remarks Guy’s charge hurriedly. - -“Yes, Excelentisima, the fête of this evening is in your honor. You -have been detained? It is now near midnight,” answers the servitor, -again bowing. - -Any reply the lady might make to this is stopped by the entry of her -dripping duenna, who says querulously: “What are you standing here for, -Doña Hermoine? You are keeping the Countess de Mansfeld waiting -upstairs and me dripping with water and chilled to the bone down here.” -Then she cries: “Up, hussies, and help me change my raiment!” This last -is emphasized by a fearful chatter of her teeth and a ferocious wave of -her hand to the attendants, who scurry past the young Englishman and -his immediate charge. - -Under the lights of the hall Guy notes that the maid servants are young -girls of lithe figures, pale olive complexions, and Moorish features, -perhaps slaves, as was common in Spain in those days. A moment after -these proceed up a little stairway with the Countess de Pariza, all -punctilio having apparently been entirely washed out of this dragon of -etiquette by the salt water of the Schelde, for she leaves Guy standing -with her charge without further remark. - -Then he turns his eyes on his companion, hoping her face will now be -visible, but the heavy lace veil still guards her countenance, and her -wraps are still drawn tightly about her, giving outline to an -apparently exquisite figure beneath. While noting this the young -Englishman also observes that the lady’s mantle is of the very finest -royal sable, and fastened by jeweled ornaments of exceeding value. - -“Had Dirk Duyvel known this,” cogitates Guy, smiling, “it would have -taken more than three hundred Carolus guilders to have bought that -cloak alone!” - -But introspection is cut short; the sweet voice, even more beautiful -now, mixed with the cadence of the music of lutes and stringed -instruments from the adjoining part of the mansion, says: “My duenna -has apparently forgotten hospitality, but I have not.” Then she -commands the servitor: “Show Captain Guido at once to a refreshment -room. Not the one of the fête, as he is evidently not arrayed for -festivity.” - -She laughs a little, and Chester can see a roguish flash in eyes too -brilliant to be entirely shaded by the lace, as she glances at his long -cloak that is draped around him, and murmurs: “Accept my hospitality; I -have a missive to give you.” - -Then with light graceful movement she sweeps up the stairs and is gone, -Guy thinking complacently: “She does not guess my brave array; I have a -surprise in store for this lady.” - -“This way, Señor Capitan,” murmurs the soft-voiced flunkey, and the -Englishman is shown into a private reception room, the regal luxury of -which astounds him, for its tapestried walls and inlaid Flemish -furniture excel those of his own Queen at Hampton Court and -Westminster. Here in a few minutes is placed before him as dainty a -repast as ever hungry sailor did justice to. The table is covered with -snowy linen, massive silver and fairy Venetian glass, and the viands -are oysters from the Schelde, cold partridge, a delicate salad of fresh -lettuce with just a suspicion of garlic, and a bottle of the royal wine -of Xeres itself. - -“Egad, this costume à la Leicester will make my lady open her bright -eyes,” thinks Guy, as he throws off his long boat cloak and displays -himself in the gallant attire that he has assumed before leaving the -ship. Though his handsome morocco boots have suffered somewhat from the -sea water, the rest of his costume has been pretty well protected. - -Altogether Master Guy Stanhope Chester is very well pleased with -himself, as he sits down and makes short work of the repast in front of -him, pouring down the wine of Xeres into his benumbed frame from a huge -silver drinking beaker, and finding himself silently and deftly waited -upon by the man servant. Thinking to discover more of the lady he has -rescued, Chester suggests to the lackey, “A fine fête your mistress -gives this night!” - -“Yes!” answers the servitor, proud of the grandeur of his house. “We -have for the entertainment of our guests, rederykers from Ghent who -will give us declamation and farce, two gipsy girls imported from -Andalusia, our own court fool to make us merry, also the daughter of -the ex-burgomaster, who will dance for us in her father’s -highest-priced silks. I shall contrive to get into the hall to see her -prance; the Flemish wench has very pretty ankles, and the airs of a -countess,” guffaws the fellow. - -But he says naught of the lady of the barge, and, the meal being -finished, the table is cleared by several flunkies in gorgeous -liveries, the resources of the house being apparently princely. - -“Odds doubloons!” soliloquizes the young man, watching the last of the -lackeys disappear. “The Countess de Mansfeld’s hospitality is very -taking!” - -Then a sudden coldness flies through his veins, in spite of the -generous wine, as he remembers that he is eating the salt of the -Spaniard in the Citadel of Antwerp. - -But now suddenly the cold jumps from his body; he springs up with a -start, his eyes gazing for one moment in rapture and admiration, and -the next in a kind of dazed surprise, his hand seeking his breast -feeling something beneath his satin doublet as if to be sure that it is -really there. - -For a girlish form of wondrous beauty and grace, with the fair skin and -deep, lustrous, languid, but vivacious eyes, peculiar to the purest -blood and highest loveliness of Castile, arrayed in evening dress, of -velvet court train and shimmering silk and lace stomacher, that shows -ivory shoulders and arms, stands before him, and the soft voice that -has charmed him all this night in a mixture of coquetry and shyness -says: “I thought you might like to see the face of her whom to-night -you saved from the Dutch pirates!” Then she laughs lightly and murmurs: -“If they had only known who I was I suppose the Flemish outlaws would -have cut my throat,” giving a little gesture across the white ivory -column that supports her lovely head, “before even you could have -recaptured me.” - -“Who under heaven can she be?” gasps Guy to himself, clutching again at -his bosom. “She is the lady of the miniature, but who—WHO?” - -But surprise and admiration are not all on his side. - -As he rises the lady standing before him sees a gallant, well-knit -figure of six feet in height, stalwart shoulders, strong arms, active, -lithe body; above all this a face of manly determination, bronzed by -weather, giving almost the appearance of a brunette to a fair Saxon -cheek, though this is contradicted by light chestnut hair, blue, but -determined eyes, and a fair drooping mustache, which conceals a mouth -remarkable for its firmness. Altogether a manly man—one fitted to make -a woman’s heart beat a thousand to the minute; one fitted to love like -a troubadour and fight like a paladin for what he wanted in this world, -and standing a very good chance to get it; one who, at all events, for -this evening, makes the blood of the lady who faces him rush very -warmly through her veins, and brings even a greater brightness to her -eyes, though these were bright enough before. - -Not that she has never seen handsome men, for most of the Spanish -chivalry of her age have bowed before her. But this new type, this -Anglo-Saxon manliness, this wealth of brawn, these great big honest -English eyes, this boy’s forehead and man’s face, make her heart beat a -little differently than ever dark-eyed Spanish grandee or soft -mustachioed Italian cavalier or knight of France or stolid Netherland -noble had made it beat before. - -The same motive seems to actuate them both—involuntarily their hands -clasp. - -But astonishment is too great in Chester—he forgets the Spanish -salutation, and the lady, laughing lightly, draws her hand away, -murmuring: “No kiss? You—you slight me!” - -“Slight you! Is that a slight?” And in a second the lady utters a faint -cry of astonishment, perhaps even of terror, for Guy Chester, -forgetting the Spanish form of salutation, has given her a good, -whole-souled honest English kiss, such as the son of the squire was -wont to bestow on the fair lips of maids as they stood under the -mistletoe bough at Christmas tide. - -“Madre de Dios!” cries the girl, blushing with almost a ruby light, “I -meant my hand. Holy Virgin! what a mistake. If the Countess had seen -it”—then, in spite of herself, she laughs, though she droops and turns -away her head. - -Of this Guy takes advantage—for her beauty is of a kind to make men -crazy. In an instant he has taken the soft, exquisite, patrician -fingers in his, and has rectified the mistake of Anglo-Saxon fervor and -impetuosity. - -But just the same, this kiss on the lips has done his business, and -also that of the lady, though at present she doesn’t know it. She says -hurriedly: “I have told the Countess de Mansfeld of your service to me. -She would have begged your attendance at the fête, but I had presumed -you were not in the costume of ceremony. I see my mistake. You are -gallantly arrayed. Will you not join in our festival?” - -“I beg you not,” answers Guy more hurriedly, for he knows in the -glittering throng he will have no such chance of a tête-à-tête as he -has now. - -“Ah, you fear your being absent without leave from Romero’s Sicilians. -They are quartered at Middelburg, I believe. That accounts for your -coming by ship. But,” the lady goes on earnestly, “I have thought about -that. If you are questioned in Antwerp, say that you have come as their -Eletto from the officers to demand when their back pay and arrears -shall be made good. For since the Queen of England stole from us eight -hundred thousand crowns, you know no soldier in Brabant, Flanders nor -Friesland has had pay. Make such a statement as that, and it will -probably save you from any further questioning on the subject of -written leave of absence from Romero.” - -“Egad!” thinks Guy, “I wonder what she would say if she knew I had had -a great hand in stealing that eight hundred thousand crowns.” But he -goes on very earnestly, for the lady has apparently forgotten her -embarrassment and her eyes are looking straight into his: “Many thanks -for your kind suggestion, Doña Hermoine. I will remember it if -questioned by provost marshal. But,” here his eyes make hers droop -before his, “I am more pleased than you can imagine at your -suggestion—not that it may save me from arrest, but that it shows me -that while away from me you had mind of me.” - -“In that case permit me to show you that I thought of you more than you -even now imagine,” answers the girl, blushing at the admiration with -which the young gentleman is regarding her. “I also wrote a -missive—this. After you have rejoined your command, at the first -convenient opportunity present this at headquarters, and I think it -will insure you a colonelcy.” With this she hands him a note, at which -he starts astounded, for it is addressed to “Don Fernando Alvarez de -Toledo, Duke of Alva, Viceroy of Spain.” - -“Who the devil can she be?” thinks Guy, but he has no time to waste on -queries; surprises come fast upon him. The girl says hurriedly: “The -Countess de Mansfeld and her guests await me. This fête is in my -honor;” then adds in a faltering tone that gives Guy one great gasp of -hope: “To remain longer would invite comment,” touching a silver -hand-bell on the table. - -And he, hearing this knell of parting joy, knowing that it may mean -death to him to see her more, and dominated by that wild passion which -comes but once in a man’s life-time, and makes him know that she, of -all the beings of this earth, is the one for whom, if necessary, he -would die, mutters agitatedly: “Then there is but time to thank you -with my whole heart for your kindness to an unknown one; to tell you—” -but his eyes are speaking faster than his lips, and with an affrighted -“Madre Mia!” she draws fluttering back, as he, made desperate by -approaching footsteps, whispers three words: “I love you!” - -To which she gasps: “No! no! you don’t know who I am!” - -And he, dropping on one knee, whispers: “Were you the Queen of Spain -I’d tell you that I loved you!” and presses on her jeweled hand the -kiss of truth and devotion eternal. - -But the servitor is entering, and she speaks, haughty and commanding, -as if she were the Queen of Spain: “Order an ensign to escort Captain -Guido with all due honor from the Citadel.” - -A quick rush of silk and flutter of laces and she is at the door of the -room, but turns as if regretful of her going. - -And he, gazing at her, his heart in his eyes, sees a picture that he -never forgets; for the girl stands in graceful attitude of fairest -youth, arrayed in laces, silks and glittering gems, with bare white -neck and snowy maiden bosom; one little Andalusian foot in fairy web of -Brussels and tiny slipper of velvet advanced from under her short -petticoat of lace and silk, and one white hand draping the tapestry of -the door above her, the other motioning farewell. - -He makes hurried steps towards her and whispers: “Is it eternal?” - -“Eternal? How solemn!” she tries to laugh, “Remember me by this!” and, -taking from her white finger a ring set with one bright flaming ruby, -drops it into his astonished hand, and flits from view. - -And as he turns away he gives one great, deep-drawn breath of hope. For -in her eyes has come something that has answered to his words: “Were -you the Queen of Spain I love you!” - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -THE SIX DRUNKARDS OF BRUSSELS. - - -A moment after, as Chester presses the ring upon his little finger, a -young Spaniard, almost a boy, with dark fiery eyes and ornamented by an -incipient mustache that he attempts to curl fiercely, in full uniform -with breastplate and plumed steel cap, enters the apartment and says -briskly: “I am the officer deputed to escort you from the Citadel, -señor. Permit me to present myself as Ensign José de Busaco, of -Mondragon’s Arquebusiers.” - -“And in return,” answers Guy, throwing on his boat cloak and preparing -to follow the young man, “I beg to announce myself as the Capitan Guido -Amati, of Romero’s Musketeers.” - -“Of the Middelburg garrison, I presume,” remarks the ensign, as they -leave the house together. “I suppose you have run up for a little -roistering at Antwerp. Middelburg is a desperately sleepy place; I was -quartered there three years ago. Brabant is slow also now since we -smashed Louis of Nassau up at Jemmingen. I cut ten German throats -there,” adds the boy very fiercely and very proudly. - -“Diablo! You are a fighter,” mutters Guy. - -“Pooh! these German burghers and townspeople were nothing against us -Spanish veterans,” replies Ensign de Busaco. “We killed eight thousand, -you remember, and lost only eight men. That was Alva’s generalship. He -has put up a big monument to himself over there,” and the boy points -across the great enceinte of the citadel through which they are passing -on their way to the main gate leading to the city. - -Following his gesture in the gloom Chester can see the pedestal of that -great statue made of the cannon taken at Jemmingen, which the -pacificator and ravager of the Netherlands is erecting to his own honor -and glory, greatly to the disgust of Philip of Spain, who does not care -to have his generals too famous. - -“Jake Yongling has made a great figure of the Viceroy. It is sixteen -feet high, and with the pedestal nearly thirty. Here’s the last one of -the arms,” continues the boyish warrior, giving a careless kick to the -representation in iron of his general, lying on the ground. Then he -whispers mysteriously: “They say this statue has a secret. What does -the Duke with his tenth penny tax, eh; where does he put the money?” - -But, passing this, they are soon at the great military causeway that -leads to the drawbridge across the moat that gives egress to the -Esplanade of the city. Above the massive archway of its heavy gate, -chiseled in stone, is a shield with a royal castle with three towers, -on each a raven, and each guarded by a wolf—the arms of Alva; beneath, -the collar of the Golden Fleece, from which hangs, as if in mockery of -this country conquered by blood and fire, a representation of the Lamb -of God. This decoration is easily revealed to Guy as he passes by -flaming flambeaux, some of which are held in the hands of the guard and -others stuck in the niches in the wall. - -The military etiquette of the place compels Chester’s attendant to -report to the officer of the day. - -To do this they enter a guard-room, well lighted by a dozen burning -candles, and while the young ensign is making his report and receiving -order for the lowering of the drawbridge, Chester carelessly looking -over a number of military placards on the dingy wall, sees one that, -sound as are his nerves, causes him a quiver, for it reads as follows: - - - LARGESS! - - THREE THOUSAND CAROLUS GUILDERS! - - Whereas, a certain Englishman named Guy Stanhope Chester, and - better known among the inhabitants of these Netherlands as De - Eersteling der Engelschen (The First of the English), who has been - disowned and disavowed by his Queen, Elizabeth of England, on March - twenty-first of the year 1571, resisted arrest by our own armed - Spanish galley, Santa Cruz, and has since been acting against the - weal of these provinces of Spain, killing and murdering the - soldiers and sailors of Philip Rex, this will be warranted for any - governor of our towns or garrisons to make payment of the above sum - to any one delivering the body or head of said named Guy Stanhope - Chester, whom we hereby proclaim as pirate and outlaw, by order of - - (Signed) ALVA, Viceroy. - - (Countersigned) Juan de Vargas, President of the Council. - - -This is posted up among various military orders pertaining to the -Citadel, and one or two other proclamations of outlawry or taxes. After -the first emotion Guy reads it calmly, and is relieved that the -description attached to the proclamation is faulty in several -particulars. - -“All right, Captain Guido! I’ve got the order!” says the young ensign, -clapping him on the shoulder. Then he continues: “Ah! you’re reading -about the First of the English,” and as they turn away together he runs -on vivaciously: “Three thousand Carolus guilders! That would be an -addition to my pay. Wouldn’t I like to get my hands on him! Three -thousand guilders! We’d have a banquet, wouldn’t we, Señor Capitan, -bought by the pirate’s head!” - -Here the young Spaniard is cut short in his speech by the necessity of -giving the countersign and passing himself and his companion through -the gates, as the drawbridge is lowered. This is easily accomplished, -as a strong detachment of the garrison are under arms, and a portion of -the troops have just moved out to reinforce the Spanish guard in the -town and to give as much assistance as possible in protecting the -property of the government that is endangered upon the wharves and -quays of Antwerp by the flood, which is apparently still rising; the -town being still lighted up and the church bells still ringing out -their alarms. - -“Here I must leave you,” says De Busaco, after they have passed the -drawbridge and the last line of sentries; “What inn will you lodge at? -the Red Lion? That has the best wine, I think.” - -“No,” answers Guy shortly, for he has considered this point; “I shall -rest at the Painted House. It is more quiet.” - -“Is it?” laughs the young man. “You don’t know what’s going to happen -there to-morrow. Par Dios! half the burghers of the city will be there -to see it, and half the officers of the garrison. You have not heard -the news? The great painter, the Raphael of the Netherlands, Frans -Floris, has accepted the wager of the ‘Six Drunkards of Brussels’ that -he will drink them all under the table at one sitting. Sapristi! from -stories about him, I believe he’ll do it. I shall come in to see it; I -pray I may meet you there!” - -“Very well, come in and drink a flagon with me!” says Chester, thinking -that being seen with this Spanish officer will be additional passport -to him in this city of his enemies, with a price set on his head. At -this young De Busaco, for the two have chatted together quite jovially -as they have passed along, and have grown to be rather en comrade, -remarks: “You see your way across the Esplanade; the street of the -Beguins is straight ahead of you!” and with a friendly salute marches -back to the Citadel. - -For one second the Englishman turns after him, a question that has been -on his mind every instant since he left her, is now full upon his lips. -The next moment he pauses, thinking, “No—to ask from the officer in -whose charge she placed me the name and station of my—my love—” he -rolls the sound in his mind as if it were a very sweet morsel—“would be -too dangerous. I at least should know the lady I have escorted to -Antwerp.” - -So he strides across the Esplanade, which is kept free of trees and all -other impediment to the fire of the guns of the Spanish Citadel, that -dominates this Flemish town. Cogitating upon this being of his dream, -Chester mutters: “That painter can tell me, he knows,” and quickens his -pace. - -A moment after the Englishman finds himself at the entrance of the -great street of the Beguins, which leads into the heart of the city. -Here, clapping his hands several times, he calls out: “Link boy! Light! -Link boy!” which in the course of a little time brings to him a -wandering urchin of the street carrying a flaming pine torch. - -“Which way, your nobleness?” asks the Arab, for Guy’s manner and -bearing are patrician. - -“To Wool street! The house of Jacques Touraine.” - -“Oh! The blood-letter and barber,” answers the boy. “I know his painted -pole.” - -So skipping along ahead of the young Englishman’s rapid strides, they -proceed down the street of the Beguins, lighted occasionally by lamps -hanging from the gable ends of the houses of the burghers, and pass by -the imposing Church of our Dear Lady of Antwerp, now known as the -Cathedral Notre Dame, from which the chimes come every quarter of an -hour, silvery and sweet upon the midnight air. Then they dive into the -labyrinth of narrow streets filled with the mediæval filth that still -clings to them even to this day, making toward the northern end of the -town. - -A few minutes of struggling through close alleys and they stop at a -long pole painted in alternate stripes of red, blue and white, that -distinguishes the house of Monsieur Jacques Touraine, the little French -leecher, surgeon, blood-letter and barber. - -Late as it is there is no need to knock and rouse him, for this -gentleman is in front of his door, talking excitedly in his Gallic way -to several of his neighbors. He has a little child of some seven years -of age by the hand, and is saying nervously: “Mon Dieu! if the tide -reaches here!” - -“Drommelsch!” answers one of his companions, “The devil himself -couldn’t make the flood run up this hill! The mark of the deluge of -1300 is fifty feet below us.” Then he gives a hideous laugh and jeers: -“How you French hate water.” - -Breaking in upon this colloquy, Guy beckons the barber to one side and -says to him: “Is the painter who lodges with you, Antony Oliver, in -to-night?” - -The answer he gets is discouraging: “No, he is in Brussels.” - -“Ah!” assents Guy, the corners of his mouth drooping at these words, -for it is this Oliver he has braved so much to see, and he dares not -remain long in Antwerp. Then he asks anxiously: “Do you know when he -will return?” - -“To-morrow. He will come with his master, the Duke of Alva, to-morrow. -He is herald and under-secretary to the Viceroy.” - -“Yes!” cries the little boy, “I’m so glad of it, because when Monsieur -Oliver comes we have so much pigeon pie. I like pigeon pie—don’t you?” - -“Desperately,” laughs Guy, relieved at the knowledge of the painter’s -quick return. - -“Then I hope you won’t ask Monsieur Oliver for my share of pigeon pie,” -babbles the child. “Perhaps, though, we won’t get any—a man carried so -many pigeons away to-day.” - -“Well, here’s a stiver to buy pigeon pie for yourself, my little man,” -laughs Chester, giving the child a coin. Then he says to the father: -“You are sure about your information?” - -“Oh, I think so. You can make absolutely sure by asking his great -friends, the Bodé Volckers. They will certainly know. He is a nice man, -this Oliver, and a great painter—at least, he thinks himself a great -painter. He has my son Achille as his student—my youngest is the little -Maredie, the one who likes pigeon pie,” babbles the Frenchman, who has -apparently been relieved from fear of the flood and pleased by Guy’s -douceur to his child. Then he queries suddenly: “Haven’t I seen you -before? You came to visit Monsieur Antony six months ago.” - -“Yes,” answers the Englishman shortly, and to prevent further -interrogation queries: “Can you tell me where the Bodé Volckers’ live?” - -“Oh, every one knows that; he is our ex-Burgomaster, the merchant -prince, Niklaas Bodé Volcker, who lives on the Place de Meir.” - -“Ah, the Place de Meir, thank you, señor,” answers Guy. He turns away, -and calling the link boy again, says: “Bodé Volcker’s!” - -“That means two stivers more,” cries the urchin; “anyone that would -visit a burgomaster’s could afford two stivers.” - -“Four, if you take me there quickly.” - -“Four? Pots dit en dat! you must be a count,” cries the delighted -child, and, skipping vivaciously before his patron, he soon guides him -back past the cathedral to the magnificent residence where old Bodé -Volcker, merchant prince of that day, whose argosies sailed to the -Indies, the Baltic and the Mediterranean, lived in great state and pomp -and wealth, but for all that was still only a merchant, trader and -burgher; and to the haughty nobles of that day nothing more than the -dust of the earth—unless they wanted to borrow his money. But as has -always been the case, great financial success has prompted social -ambition. Niklaas Bodé Volcker’s family is even now knocking at noble -and aristocratic doors. - -Evidences of this comes to Guy almost as he reaches the portals of the -merchant. - -The house is pretentious, being built of cut stone around a large -courtyard, the archway to this permitting a carriage to drive in, and -acting as the entrance to the mansion itself, which is lighted up, one -portion more brilliantly than the other. This is apparently the -counting and sample room of Niklaas Bodé Volcker himself. From out its -open doors several clerks and half a dozen porters are passing, and big -vans of goods are arriving loaded with what are apparently cloths, -silks and satins from the flooded water-front. Everyone seems to be on -the alert. - -“I must see Heer Bodé Volcker for a moment,” says Guy to a bustling -apprentice. - -“Must see Heer Bodé Volcker to-night?” gasps the man; “the night in -which his warehouses are all flooded?” - -“I must see him. Do you hear me, fellow? Quick!” mutters Chester, who, -being of gentle blood, is accustomed to command merchants, burghers, -tradesmen and the like. - -“That’s impossible, unless you go to the docks,” returns the -apprentice. “Heer Bodé Volcker is seeing to the removal of his -perishable merchandise at his big warehouse below the English quay.” - -Baffled in this direction, our adventurer turns his steps from the -counting room and going to the principal entrance of the house finds a -voluble servant girl in conversation with a man who is apparently the -family coachman, the horses and equipage being drawn up in front of the -house. They are evidently discussing the inundation of the city, for -the girl is interspersing her periods with a good many excited “Och -Armes!” and “Groote genades!” - -As there are lights in the front windows of the house Guy immediately -addresses the girl, saying: “Is it possible for me to see any of the -members of Niklaas Bodé Volcker’s family?” - -“I’m not sure,” is the answer. “If Mijn Heer would step in I’ll ask.” - -She emphasizes this with a respectful courtesy, as Guy’s ready hand -puts a few stivers into hers. His manner is commanding, his appearance -aristocratic, his hand is generous, and the girl is anxious to do his -bidding. - -Turning toward the right she shows the way into a large vaulted room -hung with Spanish stamped leather, the furniture and appointments of -which have all the indications of wealth, even luxury, as it has -tapestries upon its floor, and many of the articles of its furnishing -have been imported from Italy, Spain, and even Turkey itself, some of -the rugs being from the looms of Ispahan and Bokara. The apartment is -illuminated by a handsome swinging candelabra full of lighted wax -candles. From this room a carved oaken stairway leads apparently to the -upper apartments of the house. - -“Wiarda Schwartz!” cries the girl; “Wiarda!” clapping her hands. -Receiving no answer to this she says: “I’ll be back in a minute,” and -running lightly upstairs returns in a few minutes followed by a bright, -vivacious, dark-eyed lady’s maid, whose attire indicates she is the -favorite of her mistress, and whose short muslin skirts and white, high -Friesian peasant’s cap denotes the soubrette. - -In answer to the girl’s rather off-hand courtesy, Chester remarks: “I -am the Captain Guido Amati, of Romero’s foot. Can I see Vrouw Bodé -Volcker for a moment?” - -“Not unless you go to the other world,” answers the girl pertly. “Vrouw -Bodé Volcker has been dead four years.” - -“That is going further than walking to the warehouses for her widower,” -smiles Guy. Then he asks: “Can I see the mistress of the house?” - -“Oh, you mean Freule Wilhelmina Bodé Volcker,” says the girl. Next adds -majestically: “Freule Wilhelmina Bodé Volcker is at present at the fête -of the Countess de Mansfeld.” - -Remembering the Countess Mansfeld’s lackey’s slurring remarks about the -daughter of an ex-burgomaster dancing in his highest priced silks for -the entertainment of the company, it is difficult for Chester to fight -down a chuckle. However, being very anxious for information, he -suggests: “Then, perhaps, you can answer my question. Do you know when -Antony Oliver, the herald of the Duke of Alva, is returning to -Brussels?” - -And this ruins Captain Guido Amati in the estimation of Wiarda -Schwartz, maid in waiting to the ex-burgomaster’s daughter. She says -with pert arrogance: “Well, I never! That good-for-nothing, beggarly -painter? I know nothing about him. I had supposed Mijn Heer Captain was -acquainted with the nobility!” - -As Guy passes out of the house without information, he sees -Mademoiselle Schwartz’s pert nose very much up in the air and -Mademoiselle Schwartz’s red stockinged ankle and shapely foot patting -the floor in jeering gesture. - -“There is nothing but to be quiet and sleep until morning. I might as -well get some of that,” cogitates the Englishman. “God only knows what -to-morrow will bring to me.” - -So getting hold of the link boy again, who has evidently loitered about -in hopes that Guy’s visit at the Bodé Volckers’ will be short, Chester -gives him his orders, and is conducted to the inn known as “The Painted -House,” celebrated for its wine and beer, and situated on the -Shoemarket opposite the Place de Meir. It is but a few steps from the -residence of the merchant, and can be easily distinguished, Guy notes -as he approaches, by its high, painted gables, which give it its name. - -Lights are showing from its lower rooms, the pentice or wooden awning -in front of it is ornamented by evergreens and shrubs and illuminated -by swinging lamps; chairs and tables are under these, on which lounge -several of the better-to-do burghers of the town, a couple of Spanish -officers, and half a dozen travelers. Late as it is the sound of -revelry comes from the main inner room. - -He is welcomed at the door by mine host, the obsequious Herman Van -Oncle, who is making a fortune out of his famous supper parties and -weddings, for this is the house of festivity par excellence of the -town. Den Rooden Leeuw (“Red Lion”) may be more aristocratic, but for -wine bibbing, beer drinking and gorgeous wedding festivities that last -three days at a time, “The Painted House” of Antwerp easily holds the -vantage. - -“Welcome to the Painted House!” cries the voluble innkeeper. “Welcome -señor—colonel?” - -“No, captain,” says Guy. - -“Welcome to anyone who is in the employ of the State, civil or -military.” - -“I would like a room and bed.” - -“Impossible!” - -“Impossible?” - -“Yes; my house has been crowded all day.” - -“You must give me a cot.” - -“Well, a cot over the stable. My house has been full—you have heard the -news! The great drinking bout takes place to-morrow between our -celebrated artist, Frans Floris and the Six Drunkards of Brussels. -People have come from the neighboring places to see it. A delegation is -here from Brussels itself. It is rumored that the Duke in person will -arrive to-morrow. Perhaps he will honor me—perhaps he will come to see -the greatest drinking bout that has ever taken place in Flanders, -Brabant or Holland! I shall have twenty barrels of Rhine wine on tap.” - -“Twenty barrels for six drunkards?” laughs Chester. - -“Oh no; all the town will be here, all the town will get drunk also!” - -“I wish the town would be more quiet,” says Guy, who thinks he will -have little chance of sleep, judging by the convivial sounds that come -to them from within. - -“Hush!” whispers the innkeeper nervously, as they enter. “Don’t disturb -them. They are,” and his eyes expand in admiration, “they are the Six -Drunkards of Brussels taking supper!” - -“Apparently the Six Drunkards of Brussels,” remarks Guy, who is -unimpressed by the sounding title, “are not holding themselves back -much for to-morrow. They are doing pretty well now.” - -“Yes, that is the beauty of it,” says mine host, waving his Flemish -hands in admiration. “That is the reason they are called drunkards; -nothing will ever make them drunk. They have finished six gallons of -wine and are just commencing. They have a lovely pigeon pie in front of -them; I made it myself from birds furnished by Señor Vasco de Guerra -himself. He is the leader of the Six Drunkards, though the betting is -still two to one on our Netherland painter, the greatest artist of his -day, the Raphael of the low countries, our honor, our glory, our debtor -(for he owes me four thousand Carolus guilders), but still the pride of -Antwerp! Will you not have bite and sup, señor Capitan, before retiring -to the attic over the stable?” - -“Yes, a quart of Rhine wine will be enough for me,” says Guy. “Or, -rather,” he suggests, “as you are celebrated for your beer, I will take -some of that,” the Englishman upholding his national beverage. - -“The finest in all Flanders. And then we have some malt from London.” - -“That’s it!” cries Guy, forgetting his Spanish character, “English malt -for me!” then checks himself and mutters: “I’ve been drinking Rhine -wine all day.” - -His host departing, he lounges about while his meal is being prepared, -tracing figures with his toe on the white sand of the floor, and -reading among other placards on the walls of this, the wine room of the -inn, one announcing the grand drinking bout between Frans de Vriendt, -nicknamed Floris, and the six most celebrated topers of Brussels. This -is placarded side by side with Alva’s generous offer of three thousand -carolus guilders for the Englishman’s head. - -A moment later he finds himself placed at a table near the one occupied -by the six champions of Brussels. Carelessly he gets interested in -them, for they are six of the most remarkable looking people his eyes -have ever rested upon. - -During their conversation he catches their names. - -Vasco de Guerra, apparently the leader of the party; Tomasito, called -by his companions the one-eyed, an ensign of De Billy’s Waloons, who -lost an optic at Aremburg’s defeat, and Pablo Mendez are Spanish -officers, and apparently, from their conversation, consider themselves -nobles of rank and distinction. The other champions are more modest in -their self-assertion, except as regards the amount of liquid that they -can consume. Two are addressed as Alphonse de la Noel and Conrad de -Ryk, both Netherlanders, one of Brabant and the other of Holland; the -last member of the party is a sneaking little Italian, designated as -Guisseppi Pisa, a dealer in perfumes and women’s powders from the -capital. - -Having nothing better to do as he drinks his beer, Guy Chester listens -to their conversation in a languid, dreamy way, as the exertions of the -night have made him very tired. - -“Par Dios!” remarks Vasco de Guerra, who is tall and has big, opaque, -fishy eyes, and a long drooping mustache which has in it that single -lock of grey which is generally considered proof of extreme -dissipation, “I see our adversary Floris has painted a caricature of -us.” - -“Diablo! Is it insulting?” cries Tomasito, the one-eyed, a little -Spaniard of diabolical disposition, famous as well for his cruelty on -the battle-field as for his dissipation in the banquet hall. - -“No,” says Mendez, laughing, “only he has painted us all under the -table.” - -“Sapristi!” chuckles the Italian Pisa. “He may paint us under the -table, but he can’t drink us under the table.” Then he calls: “Pot-boy! -another stoup of strong Rhine wine. I must get in training for -to-morrow’s bout. Marietta is coming from Brussels to do honor to my -drinking powers.” This is emphasized by a hideous wink and a leer at -his companions, who cry: “Brava! the health of Marietta, the prettiest -light of love in Brussels!” and pour down great flagons of wine in -compliment to wicked little Guisseppi, whose powders and laces have -captured the leader of the demi-monde of the capital. - -While this is being brought Mendez exclaims: “Caramba! there are no -more pigeons in this pie,” withdrawing a knife with which he has been -exploring the open pasty before him, and licking his fingers -regretfully in the absence of a napkin. “You only gave us six pigeons, -Captain Vasco.” - -“That was all I shot with my cross-bow,” answers De Guerra. - -“You shot pigeons with your cross-bow?” jeers Conrad de Ryk. - -“Certainly!—to-day—here!” - -“Bah! your hand trembles, Vasco, as if you were paying over the five -hundred guilders we have wagered against the painter!” sneers De la -Noel. - -“Notwithstanding, I shot them,” returns Vasco, a strange light coming -into his fishy eyes; “and I not only killed the six pigeons, but I -shall kill—another! We’ll have a banquet when I get my reward for his -head!” He grinds his teeth at these words. - -“His head?” cries one. - -“The reward of three thousand caroli for the Englishman’s caput?” -shouts another, pointing to the placard, and making Guy’s hand -involuntarily seek his sword. - -“Bah!” chuckles Vasco. “Do you think I am going on the briny deep to -get seasick and have that English pirate cut my throat? No, there are -rewards nearer home, when I kill my seventh pigeon we’ll have more -pigeon pie and a carouse with a little of the money.” - -This rather equivocal promise is greeted with cheers and a clattering -of beakers and flagons. The Six Drunkards of Brussels seem to like -pigeon-pie as well as the little son of the surgeon and blood-letter, -Jacques Touraine. - -But Guy’s attention is called from the scene of conviviality. The host, -bowing before him, says humbly: “Señor capitan, your bed is ready, the -sheets are clean, nobody has slept in them for three days!” - -Following Van Oncle, who carries a wax candle, Chester is escorted to a -loft over the stable, which is at least airy and well ventilated, as it -has several open windows which nobody has taken the trouble to close. - -A moment after he finds himself practically alone—the only occupant of -the neighboring cots being in a drunken sleep, the others have not yet -come in. Securing his valuables (and most carefully of all that which -he deems the most valuable—the miniature of the lady whose name he does -not know, but whom he now knows he loves heart and soul), Captain Guy -Chester looks carefully to his arms, then goes to bed. Then taking a -last dreamy look at the fair, delicate face and glorious eyes and red -lips that he has kissed once, but swears to kiss again, he goes to -sleep calmly and peacefully in the city of his enemies, under the flag -of Spain and Alva, while in the room below, the streets about him, and -on the walls of every guard-house in Brabant and Flanders, are placards -offering three thousand carolus guilders for the head of the “First of -the English.” - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -THE PATRIOT PAINTER. - - -The sun is well up in the heavens when Guy opens his eyes. In contrast -to the night before, the gale has died away and the sun is shining -brightly as if to mock the farmers and peasants of the surrounding -fields and polders, whose cattle are still drowning or starving, for -the flood gives no signs of receding. A little of this Chester can see -as he makes hasty toilet; looking from his window he gets a glimpse of -the river, which is still at its height, and upon whose bosom still -float the carcasses of drowned sheep, cattle, hogs, and even human -beings. - -But the city seems now to pay little heed to this. The gale has gone -down, ships are preparing to sail out of the Schelde for the Indies and -the Mediterranean; the merchants have removed their wares to places of -safety; mediæval commerce stops no more its battle of trade and -bargain, for the disasters of humanity—than that of to-day. - -The hum of traffic comes floating up to Guy from the neighboring -Shoemarket and Egg streets. All the guilds of Antwerp are at work this -day, and seemingly happy, save that of the Butchers, which has lost -many fat beeves that have been pastured on the great meadows running -out to the big Kowenstyn dyke. - -As it is late in the morning most of those who have occupied the -surrounding cots during the night have departed on their way. -Consequently Guy, having, after the manner of sailors, slept ready to -go on deck, slips on doublet and cloak uninterrupted save by the snores -of a toper who is still in drunken slumber. - -Then going down to the wash-room of the house, upon the lower floor, -the Englishman makes hasty ablution, succeeding by the bribe of a -stiver in obtaining an unused towel for the purpose. - -This being done, and feeling very bright, vivacious and cheery, -notwithstanding he catches glimpses of the placard in the wine room -offering a reward for his head, Chester passes out and makes his way -rapidly through the dirty alleys of the lower portion of the town to -Wool street. Remembering his unsuccessful inquiries at the Bodé Volcker -mansion, the Englishman has concluded that he will see if he can obtain -further information from the French blood-letter and barber about the -arrival of his lodger. For speed is vital to the business that has -brought Guy into the clutches of his enemies, and every moment that he -stays in the town of Antwerp adds to his danger of recognition and -arrest; too many Flemish traders from Zeeland and the islands of -Holland journey to this great commercial city, some of these know the -“First of the English” quite well by sight, and a few of them, for -three thousand carolus guilders would sell anything upon earth, -including themselves. - -Arriving at the barber’s pole of Jacques Touraine, Chester receives a -pleasant surprise. The voluble little Frenchman darts out to meet him, -crying: “He is anxious for you; I told him you had asked for him!” - -“He—who?” gasps Guy. - -“Why, my lodger, the painter, Antony Oliver. He came in from Brussels -this morning. He is as eager to see you as you are to see him.” - -But the last of this speech is lost upon the Englishman, who has darted -up two flights of stairs to the top of the house, where, under the -tiled gables, amid the swallows’ nests, is the lodging room and atelier -of Antonius Oliver (familiarly called Antony), geographical map maker, -herald and pursevant, and at times assistant secretary to Alva, Viceroy -of the Netherlands. This gentleman’s salary is not great; his position, -while partially confidential, is not very exalted; though it often -brings him into direct contact with the great Duke himself. For Oliver -has striven, with all his might and main to gain the confidence of his -master. - -He is a native of Mons, near the French border of the Netherlands, and -is partly of Flemish and partly of Gallic extraction. At present he is -apparently washing the dust of travel from his face, as he makes his -appearance minus his cloak and doublet, towel in hand, and answers the -Englishman’s smart knock on his door. - -“Ah!” he cries, his face full of sunny smile, “I am delighted to see -you, my friend, my Guido!” - -“And so am I, Antony, my boy,” answers Chester, with hearty -outstretched hand. For a few weeks of supreme mutual danger have made -these two men as good comrades as years of ordinary friendship. - -“So glad to see you,” goes on the Fleming, “and yet sorry.” He -whispers: “You know of the reward for you?” - -“Yes, I’ve seen it,” answers Guy, shortly. - -“Ah! at your inn?” - -“No, in the guard-room of the Citadel.” - -“Mon Dieu! You have been arrested and examined,” the painter gasps, -anxiously. - -“No, I went as cavalier to a great court lady!” laughs the English -sailor. “For it I am to be promoted to a colonelship in Romero’s -musketeers!” - -“Impossible! Tell me your story!” - -“I will,” says Guy, “it contains the business that brought me to -Antwerp.” - -“Yes,” answers the other, meditatively, “your business must be of the -greatest importance to make you again take this risk.” - -“It is for the same old reason—my Queen!” whispers Guy; “Is there no -one about?” - -“No; Achille, my apprentice, I have sent out on a long errand, as I -expected your coming and wanted to have private converse.” - -“What long errand?” - -“I sent him out to buy wine, bread, provisions, cheese, beef, on -credit. Achille is an active boy, if I had given him the money he would -have been back in half an hour.” Then carefully barring the door and -drawing a heavy curtain over it, Oliver says: “Tell me your story.” - -“Then can you interpret these letters bearing, I think, upon the -welfare, yes, the life, of my sovereign?” whispers the Englishman. And -producing the packet wrapped in oiled silk which he had taken from the -body of the drowned Italian the evening before, Guy tells the artist -the curious story of the preceding night. His recital is punctuated by -vivacious exclamations of surprise, deep interest, and several times by -uproarious laughter from his Flemish listener. - -As the Englishman finishes the painter takes up the conversation. - -“Ah!” he exclaims, looking carefully at the documents, “you took these -from the body of the secretary of Chiapin Vitelli.” Then he adds: “I am -one of the few men who could read them. They are in the private cipher -used by the secret correspondence bureau of my master, my benefactor, -he who pays me my stipend, the man whose hand I kiss—he of Alva!” A -strange light coming into his eyes as he speaks of his benefactor. “The -reading is very simple when you know the key, which I have memorized -and have in my head—I dare not keep it anywhere else.” - -“Then give me the meaning of these letters!” - -“Certainly,” says the artist. “You can amuse yourself with my sketches -as I look over them.” - -This he does hastily, while Guy passes the time examining a number of -studies in charcoal upon canvas and panels, apparently the work of the -young Fleming. At one side of the apartment is a marble slab used in -grinding colors, upon it a number of brushes, a palette, and some -little bladders of ground paint, such as were used by the artists of -that day. Upon an easel stands an unfinished picture of a fair haired, -blue eyed Flemish girl of great beauty, though it is of almost the -peasant style. This has been sketched after the manner of the Venetian -school upon what was known then as the red ground. At the back of the -apartment is a large curtain, apparently concealing some more important -work, as it is quite large, covering the whole rear of the garret floor -of the house. - -“Don’t peep behind,” says the painter, looking up as Guy’s footsteps -approach the curtain. “I have a surprise for you there, I think,” and -pausing in his reading, he looks up with a quizzical expression at the -Englishman. “Something you will be interested in, I imagine; you could -not see the face of the fair one of the barge!” For Guy, in his -description of his evening’s adventure, has omitted, with the -instinctive delicacy of the gentleman and the lover, any account of his -interview at the house of the Countess de Mansfeld, with the lady he -rescued. - -“What do you mean?” asks Chester, eagerly. “Wait for a moment,” and a -muttered exclamation of surprise calls Guy to the painter’s side, who -has apparently become greatly excited over the cipher letters. - -Here he stands, impatient, awaiting the outcome of the Fleming’s -inspection of the documents. - -A minute later Oliver looks up and remarks: “I can now tell you in -rough form the contents of these letters.” - -“What are they?” inquires Guy eagerly. - -“These are two letters, written by Chiapin Vitelli, Alva’s confidential -officer, and evidently given to his secretary—such is their value—to -deliver in person to one Ridolfi, an Italian, who is a banker in -London.” - -“Ridolfi? Yes, I’ve heard of him. He has a great many dealings with -Italy; he is a goldsmith as well as banker; his place is on Cheapside,” -mutters Chester. “What about him?” - -“Well, this is apparently a letter of a series, some of which must have -been answered, in which Alva is arranging with Ridolfi, who is -apparently the agent of the Duke of Norfolk, the man who would marry -the Queen of Scots, now in Elizabeth’s hands, for the poisoning of the -Queen of England!” - -“The poisoning of my sovereign! Good God!” gasps Guy. A moment after, -forcing himself to calmness, he continues: “Yes; rumors of this or of a -similar plot have been brought to the notice of Lord Burleigh, -Secretary of State. You know it is to investigate such matters that I -am sent over here and disowned by my sovereign, who wishes at present -to appear at peace with Alva, but who, in her time, will have her -reckoning—and an English reckoning at that—with your Netherland -tyrant!” - -“I know that. That is why I aid you,” mutters the painter. “Elizabeth -is the only hope of the Netherlands. We have been crushed and butchered -at Jemmingen, the Prince of Orange is now in exile, a fugitive in -Germany, France distracted with her own affairs, Coligny and Condé at -swords points with the league, can give us but uncertain aid—England is -our only hope. As such I have welcomed you as the ‘First of the -English’ to come to aid the Flemings. You will not be the last—I know -it! But”—here the light of patriotism comes into the painter’s face, -“we must do our part. As such I have condemned myself to live under the -most terrible suspense that can be put upon a man—a traitor in the very -household, at the very writing table, of the Spanish Viceroy, so that I -may give information of his movements to Louis of Nassau and William -the Silent. Discovery means—you know what!” - -Then he laughs a ghastly laugh and whispers: “What would Alva, who -burns people alive slowly for eating meat on Friday; who beheads women -for sheltering their own husbands; who permits his troops to burn, -outrage, pillage and ravage defenseless burghers and peaceful citizens; -what would he do with a discovered spy in his own retinue? Are there -enough racks, thumb-screws and faggots for him?” he shudders; then adds -determinedly: “But all for my country!” - -“And I all for my own,” answers Guy. “A price set upon my head as a -pirate, and all for my Queen. Elizabeth smiles on me at court, calls me -her valiant freebooter, yet tells the ambassador of Philip of Spain -that I am here on my own account, and disowns me; though she knows it -is for her interests, to guard her life, to discover such damnable -plots as these, that I take my life within my hand! Besides,” he goes -on, his eyes beginning to blaze, “I don’t love the Spaniards.” - -“Personally,” remarks the Flemish painter, “I have found some very -pleasant gentlemen among them; though among those who flock here to -Alva’s banner are scoundrels innumerable. But it is for my country that -I live a life of suspense, each breath almost an apprehension.” - -Looking at the painter, Guy sees that this is true. He is rather small -of figure, though well-built and agile; but has dark soft eyes, -singularly delicate, mobile lips for a man, and a high, intellectual -forehead. As Chester gazes, he is sure Antony Oliver is a brave man. At -the same instant he knows he is a man with such a terrible fate hanging -over him that his nerves are unstrung by constant and never-ending -apprehension. - -However, he speaks to the point. - -“I hate every Spaniard, gentleman or no gentleman, peasant or noble, -because I have a brother in the prisons of the Inquisition at -Hispaniola.” - -“Poor fellow!” mutters the painter, with a little shudder. “In -Hispaniola! That’s a long way off.” - -“Not for an English sailor. Seven years ago Dick and I, full of youth -and ardor, sailed with Captain Ned Lovell to the Spanish Main, and -traded there with the Dons of Hispaniola, and as we were Catholics, -lived quite comfortably in the town of Haytien, accumulating wealth. -Then I, with my doubloons and pieces of eight, returned to merry -England, leaving Dick to turn the rest of our merchandise into gold and -follow after. A year passed. Then no Dick; but word was brought me by -Hawkins coming back from his third voyage, that Dick had fallen in love -with a Spanish girl; that his rivals, for revenge, had denounced him as -an English heretic, and the—the Inquisition—.” The Englishman’s voice -is broken, there are tears in his eyes, though they burn fiercely. -“Then I was ready to hate the Spaniards and do Queen Elizabeth’s work,” -mutters Guy, after a moment’s pause, “the work that gave me this -miniature.” - -“Can you tell me,” he says suddenly, producing the likeness, on ivory -set with diamonds, “the name and title of the lady whose face is here?” - -“Oho!” chuckles the painter, a twinkle in his eye, “I had been -expecting some such question ever since you told me about the lady of -the barge. Did she give you this? Has she also been smitten by Cupid’s -dart?” - -“What do you mean?” growls the Englishman, blushes showing beneath his -sun-burned skin. - -“I mean,” laughs Antony, “that you are a man very deeply in love. In -your tale of last night every time you mentioned the ‘divinity of the -barge,’ the ‘fair unknown,’ the ‘graceful creature of the shadow,’ the -‘fairy-like form the gloom could not conceal,’ the ‘voice soft as an -angel’s,’ your manner betrayed that even the darkness had not prevented -your falling in love with the lady you rescued from our Sea Beggars; -that though she had been your captive, you really were hers. Did she -reciprocate enough to give you this?” - -“No,” returns Guy, “I believe I’ve been in love with this picture ever -since I captured it three years ago.” - -This answer astounds the painter. He murmurs: “I never supposed you -English a romantic race, but you prove to me that the Italians are as -beggars to you islanders in impetuous passion. In love with a picture?” - -“Yes, it came to me under peculiar circumstances,” answers the -Englishman, a little sulkily perhaps, for the artist’s tone is somewhat -bantering. “Towards the end of ’68 I was playing tennis in a London -court. Elizabeth of England and her prime minister, Sir William Cecil, -now Lord Burleigh, sent for me. The Queen’s exchequer was empty. Five -Italian vessels bearing a loan from the bankers of Genoa to Alva, and -loaded with eight hundred thousand crowns in silver, on their way to -Antwerp—” - -“Yes,” interjects the other with a chuckle, “I know—the money with -which the Duke intended to pay his troops—” - -“Had been driven into the harbor of Southampton by privateers -commissioned by the Prince de Condé, who had been on the lookout to -seize this treasure. The Spanish ambassador had appealed to the Queen -for naval protection. Being at peace this must be accorded him, but -Elizabeth’s exchequer was empty, and harassed by milliner’s bills and -other feminine expenses, she had determined to have this silver for her -own. Cecil had sent for me, as he knew I spoke Spanish, and thought I -was the man for the business. They had already notified the Spanish -ambassador to make arrangements for the transport of the treasure from -Southampton to Dover by land, so that the Queen’s vessels could meet it -there. But while he was making his preparations I received the -following curious commission: I was to go down and offer ten thousand -crowns to the French privateers not to leave their position outside of -Southampton water, so the Genoese vessels dared not sail. Meanwhile the -Queen investigated and found the money was loaned by Italian merchants. -‘If they can loan to Alva, they can loan to me,’ she thought. Under the -private directions of the Queen of England I seized the eight hundred -thousand crowns of silver.” - -“And that nearly drove Alva crazy! I can see him now,” laughs the -painter, “the morning he received the news twisting both his long -pendants of beard in impotent rage. Since then he has hated your Queen -and you who forced him to put this tenth penny tax on the Netherlands -to pay his troops. But what has the theft of Elizabeth of England to do -with your miniature, my marauder?” - -“Only this,” answers Guy. “On board the Genoese vessel, when I made the -seizure, the only spoil I took for myself was this likeness. Judging -from the direction on the packet that contained it, that the lady whom -it represented must be living in the Netherlands, I was very happy to -accept Queen Elizabeth’s private commission to come over here and turn -sea rover in her cause, knowing that I took my life in my hand, but -also knowing it was my one chance of meeting in the flesh the face that -I have loved from that day to this. If that’s romance, make the best of -it! Who is she?” - -“Ah!” says the painter, “In reply may I show you another picture?” - -“Of whom? What do I care for pictures except this one? You artists are -always thinking of art—I think of flesh and blood, which beats art.” - -“Does it beat THIS?” laughs Oliver, and drawing away the curtain from -the rear of the room he discloses an enormous altar piece, unfinished -except the central figure, the Madonna, at which Guy looks and gasps, -for it is the picture of the woman whose lips he had kissed the night -before, whose miniature he now holds in his hand, gazing alternately -from it to the magnificent altar piece figure, the Mother of God, on -the canvas. It has apparently been a work of love. The Englishman grows -red in the face, then deathly pale, and mutters: “You love her also!” -scowling at his supposed artistic rival. - -“No,” answers Antony, “I do not love the lady; though I love my -picture. You need not be jealous my dear Englishman, the woman I love -is a much more flesh-and-blood being—Juffer Wilhelmina, daughter of the -ex-burgomaster Bodé Volcker. Her blonde picture is on that easel. I -don’t hesitate to tell you my secret, as I have yours. But this,” he -looks affectionately at the canvas, “is a work of love, love for my -art. It is my one hope to leave a name in the world. If I can finish my -altar piece before the time comes when the hand that is forever over me -crushes me in its iron grasp, I hope to be remembered—not as the -patriot, but as the artist!” - -“And, by heaven! you will be,” cries Guy, who would certainly give this -picture of the woman he loves the post of honor and the wreath of fame, -“for you have painted not only a Madonna, but a goddess, fit to be the -mother of God.” Here he crosses himself devoutly and looks lovingly at -the picture again, which well merits his admiration, not only for the -loveliness of its model, but for the originality of its effects and -richness of its coloring. - -Unlike the picture on the easel, this altar piece is sketched upon a -pearl gray background, the only completed figure in it being the -central Madonna, the likeness of Guy’s love. - -The girl stands posed in virgin beauty; her white, blue-veined feet -rest light as a fairy’s on a rainbow of softest sunlight; her form, -outlined with all the beauty curves of woman, but full of maiden grace -and lightness, draped by robe of softest clinging white, and decked -with floating azure mantle. Above the ivory throat is the face of -exquisite brunette beauty, those soft though shining eyes, those lips -of coral red, those cheeks of changing lilies and roses that made Guy’s -heart beat so madly before, and make it beat so madly now. - -The whole, deified by the grand soul that shines out from the lovely -face, backgrounded by and floating upon sun rays, and full of those -wondrous effects of golden light and deep warm shadow peculiar to the -school of the Venetian Tintoretto, makes Guy very eager; for it is the -breathing, speaking portrait of the woman he loves, yet still is not -equal to her. - -For this is but one view of her mobile loveliness, and the night before -she had given him a different effect, a varied expression, a new -rapture, each time he had gazed upon her changing, vivacious, yet -always noble beauty. - -He cries impatiently to the painter: “You don’t answer my question. You -only show me what makes me more hungry for her name. Tell me who she -is?” - -The answer that comes startles him, dismays him. “She is,” says Oliver, -sighing his words, “the only thing upon this earth that Alva loves!” - -“No, no, I’ll not believe,” gasps Chester. - -“You must! She is the only thing he adores, the only being to whom the -Viceroy of Spain ever gives the loving ‘thou’.” - -“I can’t believe you,” cries the Englishman, clenching his hands in -agony. “She is too pure to be the love of any one, least of all of that -fiend.” - -“She is not too pure,” says the painter slowly, “to be his daughter.” - -“His DAUGHTER? Saints above us!” - -“Yes, Hermoine de Alva is the Duke’s natural daughter. Her mother, the -Countess di Perugia, an Italian lady, of great beauty, died four years -ago. Since then the Duke has given Doña Hermoine his own name. She is -the purest, sweetest, noblest flower that Spain has ever sent to the -Netherlands. Her mind is as bright, her intellect as strong, as her -father’s, but her heart is as tender as his is cruel. Still, she is the -daughter of Alva, and as such, my Englishman, I fear your love is -hopeless! Beware! Your brother loved a Spanish girl!” - -To this Guy answers nothing. In a flash he feels the truth of the -painter’s last crushing remark. But a moment after Anglo-Saxon pluck -springs up again in him, and he mutters: - -“By heaven! what a triumph to pluck the thing Alva loves most out of -his hands; to make his own daughter that he prizes the most of anything -on this earth the bride, the honored bride, of the man upon whose head -he has placed three thousand carolus guilders reward—the sea -pirate—‘The First of the English.’” and he bursts out into mocking, -triumphant, but loving laughter. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -“THE LION’S JAWS GAPE FOR ME!” - - -“Bravo!” cries the Fleming, “Bravo! But first she must love you.” - -“I’ll make her love me,” exclaims Chester, looking at the ruby ring -upon his finger that seems to him not the red light of danger, but the -beacon of Cupid. - -“Well, I’m glad you are so confident. I wish I were equally so.” the -painter sighs; then goes on energetically: “But now to business. You -cannot linger over your love-making. Queen Elizabeth must be warned of -the plots against her life, and of Ridolfi, the Italian banker in -London.” - -“Oh, we’ll take good care of him,” says Guy, savagely. “I must join my -ship this evening and sail for England, and to do this I must get the -words of to-night so I can pass the gates of the town after sunset.” - -“Why not leave at once?” - -“Because,” answers the Englishman, “you have not yet given me the -translation of those letters. That will take you some time.” - -“No, it won’t.” - -“Why not?” - -“Because I shall not make the translation; I shall simply give you the -key to the cipher, then they can be interpreted in England, and any -other letters of this correspondence that may come into your hands will -be equally readable by Queen Elizabeth and her ministers. It will save -you many dangerous visits here.” With this the artist sits down and -writes in a few minutes the explanation of the cipher. - -Then saying: “Place that with the letters,” he gives it to Guy, smiles -at him, and murmurs: “Now I should think you would be in a hurry to -leave, with that price upon your head.” - -“I’m not going until to-night,” answers Chester, almost surlily. “The -evening tide will serve as well for my vessel—it will not delay me -much. Besides—” here he catches sight of the painter’s face in -quizzical smile, and cries out: “Gadzooks, man! you don’t think I’m -going to leave Antwerp without seeing her again.” He waves his hand -toward the divine beauty of the face upon the canvas lighted up by the -morning sun, and shining upon him not only with heavenly, but with -earthly, love—at least so this audacious young man imagines. - -“Ah! going to ask papa for the young lady?” jeers the painter. - -“Not yet, though I have a letter of introduction to him,” remarks Guy, -piqued into producing the billet given to him by Doña Hermoine the -evening before, the one addressed to Alva, Viceroy of Spain. - -“And you haven’t opened it?” queries Oliver, examining the missive. - -“Certainly not; it is sealed.” - -“Ah! my boy,” rejoins the painter, “you have too difficult a game to -play to be over scrupulous. You must know how you stand with this lady -before you attempt to see her again.” Then he horrifies Guy, for he -says: “You have powerful rivals; General Niorcarmesis looked upon not -altogether unfavorably by the lady’s father, in whose confidence that -officer stands very high.” - -“A rival?” falters Guy. - -“A rival? A host of rivals! Do you pay your beautiful inamorata so poor -a compliment as to think she has charmed no other man than you? Every -one is bowing down to the beauty and the wit of the Countess Hermoine -de Alva—generals and nobles.” Then he continues commandingly: “You must -open this letter. The game you are playing forces you to use every -card. It is apparently not a confidential communication, and must apply -to you, for she told you to deliver it with your own hand.” - -While he is speaking, and before Guy can interpose, Oliver has rapidly -lighted a taper, passed the letter over it with the deft hand of one -accustomed to such business, and is presenting it, seal removed, open -to the inspection of the Englishman. - -“Read it you must,” he says. “Your life might be the forfeit of too -strained an honor. Read it! Some day you may be compelled from the -exigencies of the case to deliver this to Alva. In your position you -should know what it contains. Read it, or I have no further -communication with you.” - -“Why not?” mutters Guy, who, though desperately anxious to see the -handwriting of his sweetheart, still holds out. - -“Because,” says the painter, solemnly, “this is a game in which both -you and I have put up our lives as the stake; and I play everything in -my hand. You must do the same, for my sake as well as yours. If I -communicate with you, if I am seen in your company, and you are -arrested, perhaps I fall with you. Besides, we owe it to our countries -to use every weapon that God throws into our hands. READ!” - -While saying this he has opened the delicately scented billet, which -has only been held together by its seal, and is suspending it before -the eyes of the Englishman, which become radiant with hope as they read -this short but pithy note in the very prettiest of feminine -handwriting: - - - “Dear Papa: - - “Please make the bearer of this, Captain Guido, of Romero’s foot, - my rescuer from the Beggars of the Sea (though he is too modest to - give me any other name) a Colonel as soon as possible, and then - give him a chance to make himself a General, and oblige, your - loving - - Hermoine.” - - -Rapture and pride are too great in the Englishman for him to avoid -showing this note to his friend and mentor. - -“By Saint Denis!” cries Oliver, inspecting the missive, “I believe she -does love you. If you have hit her heart you’re the first, and she has -had half of Spain at her feet, I’m told.” Then, looking over the young -man, he adds contemplatively: “It must be your peculiar blonde ferocity -that has done it. If you had been a brunette Adonis, I wouldn’t have -given a stiver for your chance. Dark eyed dandies about here are as -plentiful as windmills.” - -“With this in my hand can I fail to make the attempt to see her before -I go?” says Guy stoutly, securing the missive with a lover’s care in -the breast of his doublet. - -“Apparently you will not, no matter what I say,” smiles the artist. -Then he goes on earnestly and solemnly: “But let me give you a little -advice. Under no circumstances; no matter how much she loves you; no -matter if she swears to you she adores you better than all else in this -world, do you tell her your secret.” - -“You think she would betray me?” - -“No! A thousand times no!” - -“You think it might destroy her love for me?” - -“Not if she loved you before. Hermoine de Alva once true, will be -forever true.” - -“Then why should I fear to tell her?” - -“For this reason. She knows how much her father loves her. She has no -fear of the human tiger; to her his claws are always velvet. By this -note you can tell that Doña Hermoine thinks her word is law with the -dictator of the Netherlands. So it is in little things!—a diamond -necklace, a dozen new dresses, even the discarding of a suitor; for if -she says no, that is the end of the gentleman with her father also. But -in matters of State policy she has never run against him. She does not -know that in affairs of government, in upholding his own laws, edicts -and proclamations, Alva is ice and iron together. What I fear is that -you may one day be persuaded to go with her and tell the dictator your -story, and she will tell papa that she loves you, assured that he will -spare you and pardon you and put you up on high for her sake; but for -God’s sake don’t ever deceive yourself about Alva’s mercy. If you do, -you are lost. Her tears, her prayers, will never save you. Remember -that, my Guido, who are in love with the tiger’s cub!” - -“Why should you call her that?” cries Guy savagely. - -“I should not call her that,” returns the painter sadly. “She has been -all condescension and kindness to me; she has permitted me to take her -beautiful face and put it on my canvas, to give me a chance for fame -and immortality.” - -“Ah! she has granted you sittings here?” - -“Yes, with her duenna present.” - -“Then arrange an interview for me this afternoon here.” - -“It would do you no good. She would not come without attendants. Do not -think that Hermoine de Alva will forget any point of etiquette, even -though she adores you—of which you seem to be very confident.” - -“But I must arrange a meeting. I’ll kill two birds with one stone. She -will know the words of the night. From her I can obtain them. She will -come to me, I know,” says Guy very confidently. “You can gain admission -to her as the under-secretary of Alva. Do so to-day. Give her this -ring;” he takes the beautiful ruby from his finger and puts it into the -painter’s hand. - -“Mon Dieu! You have exchanged rings—did kisses go with them?” laughs -Oliver; and as a flaming blush appears upon Guy’s face, he mutters: -“Parbleu! I believe they have. Talk about Italian passion! It is as ice -to you wonderful English.” Getting no answer from Chester he continues: -“I can arrange an interview to-day, but it cannot be here. The duenna -would stand in the path of any tête-à-tête between you. The only way I -can think of private word for you with your love, you fortunate young -man—you unfortunate young man—is at the house of the man I hope one day -to call ‘papa.’” - -“The burgomaster, Niklaas Bodé Volcker?” exclaims Guy. - -“Yes. On the plea of rare bargains in silks that have been slightly -damaged by the flood Doña Hermoine can bring her duenna into the town. -At the merchant’s you can speak privately with Doña de Alva.” - -“But the duenna—the infernal duenna?” growls Chester. - -“The duenna will be made blind and harmless in the next room inspecting -bargains. If we arrange to have Bodé Volcker’s stock low enough, the -Countess de Pariza is good for an hour of rapture and bargains. -Besides, they will probably be coming in to-day to learn the talk of -the town, about the great drinking bout between”—here the painter -flushes with indignation—“between the man who disgraces his genius and -his art, by intemperance, and the Six Drunkards of Brussels. You have -seen it placarded on the walls of the inns and wine houses, bearing the -name of the greatest artist the Netherlands has yet produced, the -Raphael of the North, the man whose disciple I was, the man whose altar -piece in the great Church of Our Dear Lady would have made him renowned -forever had it not been burnt by the Iconoclasts four years ago, when -they threw down all the images of the church, and destroyed innumerable -masterpieces of art, in blind rage at the Inquisition. I and another -old pupil of Floris’s saved that night one picture of his, a smaller -one, ‘The Fall of the Angels;’ it is not his best work; in fact, it is -very much beneath his genius, but it is the one thing of his that will -go down to posterity, for now he has become a sot and a drunkard,” and -Oliver sighs. - -“Very well,” cries Guy, breaking in upon the artist’s indignant -rhapsody, during which he has remembered he has not eaten since he has -risen. “Now having finished our business, perhaps when Achille returns -with the provisions you will give me a little breakfast, perchance a -little pigeon pie, eh?” and he playfully pokes the painter in the ribs, -for Antony’s remarks about Hermoine de Alva have made this audacious -young man very jovially happy. - -It is a laughing remark, but the laugh dies away as Guy sees its -extraordinary effect upon the Flemish painter. At the words “pigeon -pie” Oliver’s face grows pale. He turns and says suspiciously: “What do -you know about pigeon pie?” - -“Only what I heard last evening from little Marvedie, son of Touraine -the barber.” - -“What did he say about pigeon pie?” asks the painter, whose manner -begins to impress Guy, as he mutters; “Speak quick—our lives may depend -upon it!” - -“Only this,” says the Englishman, “that when you were here he had -plenty of pigeon pie. He asked me if I liked pigeon pie, and then -afterward—I think, yes, I am almost positive, he said perhaps he -wouldn’t have so much pigeon pie now, as a man had taken away so many -pigeons.” - -“A man—taken away so many pigeons—from here!” falters Antony. Then he -suddenly exclaims: “That explains why there were no letters from Louis -of Nassau in my cote above—no pigeons bearing them. I thought it was -curious; I was nervous. My God! I must know.” - -Just then a rap coming upon the door he draws aside the curtain and -opens it, confronting his apprentice Achille, a bright-eyed French -youth, who says discontentedly: “I can’t get anything without the cash. -Our great artist, Frans Floris, owes so much money that no other -artists can buy anything for credit.” - -“Very well, put down your basket. I’ll see if I can get you some -money,” says Oliver meditatively. Then a sudden idea seems to come to -him, he cries: “Achille, where is little Marvedie? Bring him up, and -we’ll send out and get some pigeons, and have some pigeon pie for him,” -affecting great lightness of manner, though with evident effort. - -“All right. Marvedie is death on pigeon pie, and so am I,” says the -youth, and flies downstairs. - -“I must question him,” murmurs the painter. “If this is true, the sword -suspended by the hair is about to fall.” - -A moment later and the laughing voices of childhood are heard on the -stairs, Achille and his little brother bound into the room, crying: -“Pigeon pie! pigeon pie! Hurrah for Monsieur Oliver’s pigeon pie!” - -“Yes, pigeon pie,” cries the painter, “pigeon pie. But what has become -of my pigeons? Have you taken them, Achille?” - -“No!” - -“Were there any flying about the cote? Not those in the coop, but in -the cote—around in the air flying?” The artist’s voice has become -hoarse—his eyes terrible. - -“Oh yes, a good many, for the last day or two,” answers the boy. Then -noting his master’s manner, he screams out: “But I have not taken them, -I swear to heaven, Monsieur Oliver, I have never taken any from the -cote. On the word of an honest boy—do not discharge me!” - -“No, he didn’t take any,” cries little Marvedie; “a big tall man with -nasty black eyes took them away.” - -“When?” - -“Yesterday.” - -“Did you see him? How do you know?” - -“Oh, I remember him because he laughed and seemed very happy, and gave -me two stivers to get him a bag to put them in.” - -“Can you tell anything about him? Do you know his name, little -Marvedie—little pigeon pie Marvedie?” gasps Antony, attempting a -grimace, with a face that is like a death mask. - -“No, but he was ugly and had nasty eyes, eyes that looked like the -codfish they sell in the market.” - -“How many pigeons did this man take away? Did you count them, little -Marvedie—little pigeon pie Marvedie?” and the painter achieves a -ghastly chuckle. - -“Yes, there were six, with bunches on their beaks and eyes that looked -back and front. The kind whose necks you wring when you give me pigeon -pie,” says the little child. - -“And where was your brother?” The painter’s voice is low and stern. - -“Oh, I was out trying to sell one of your pictures,” says Achille. “At -least I think I was. That’s what I’ve been trying to do ever since you -went away, but they’re all here yet. The Duke’s tenth penny is ruining -everybody. No body has any money to spare, at least not for works of -art.” - -“Very well,” sighs Antony, “here’s a florin. Yes, get the pigeons!” he -laughs dismally. “We’ll have the pigeon pie.” - -The two boys run away. The painter’s face is white as his own chalk, -and he falters. “At last it has come. Some one has my secret.” - -“What secret” mutters Guy, half guessing. - -“The letters brought to me by carrier pigeons from Louis of Nassau, -with whom I am in correspondence for the benefit of the Netherlands. Of -course they are in cipher, they cannot be construed in a moment; but -the hair has been cut, the sword is descending, I am no better than a -dead man; worse than that—I am a tortured man! Oh, my God! think of the -rack, the faggot, that await me!” and the Fleming’s eyes become -bloodshot, his cheeks gray, and his lips blue. - -“If we could discover the man who has your secret,” says the -Englishman, prompt to action, well knowing that danger to Oliver now -means danger to himself. - -“Ah! but how? When Alva arrives the man will surely give him the -information; it would be very valuable, warning of a traitor in the -Duke’s own corresponding bureau. I—I had been anxious all the morning. -When I—I arrived here I expected to find the pigeons with the letters -tied to their tails from Louis. Now I know—the reason. Six! Six -letters—each one of them enough to send me to the slow fire!” moans the -painter, striking his hands together till his finger nails are blue. - -“Six! Six pigeons!” echoes Guy. Then he suddenly cries: “Do you know a -man with dark, fishy eyes, such as the boy described, and a black -mustache with one single, whitish gray lock in it?” - -“My God!” cries the artist. “I do. He—you have told me who—Vasco de -Guerra—my enemy! He has—has my letters!—What gave you the clue?” - -“Only this, that Vasco de Guerra, at supper last night, gave to the Six -Drunkards of Brussels, who have come here for the drinking bout with -Floris, a pigeon pie containing six pigeons which he asserted he had -shot with his cross-bow, but he spoke of the seventh, declaring for the -head of the seventh he would receive such a reward that would enable -him to give a great banquet to his comrades.” - -With this Guy tells the astounded Oliver what he saw and heard at the -carouse of the Six Drunkards of Brussels in the Painted Inn the night -before. - -“Yes, that’s proof enough, proof that he has my secret—he of all men, -he who is sure to use it—this Vasco de Guerra is my enemy. He is a -miserable scamp, disreputable enough to be cashiered from the Spanish -army—think what that must be, when soldiers are permitted to beg, -steal, murder, torture and ravage without one word of rebuke from their -officers. What must a man be who is cast out from such troops as this? -He is a drunken fortune hunter; he seeks the hand of Mina Bodé Volcker, -who loves me. He has her maid, Wiarda Schwartz in his pay.” - -“Aha!” returns Guy. “That is the reason she treated me so cavalierly -when I asked for you last night.” - -“Wiarda? Yes, miserable little paid soubrette. But we must think—we -must act—and that quickly,” returns the painter, who seems to have -regained composure, now that he knows his betrayer. “Vasco must guess -the value of these letters, for he must have been upon my scent for -weeks. He will try to decipher them himself, for he will not wish to -trust the information to others who might obtain the reward for it. He -can hardly act to-day. He doubtless keeps them on his person.” - -“In that case we must kill him at once,” says Guy. “That’s what we’ve -got to do. We must kill him for both our sakes. At all events, we must -have the papers. Send for him, get him here, and I will do his business -with a dirk. Then we can carry him out and toss him into the flood. -He’ll float away to the ocean. There are plenty of drowned carcasses -like his, so it will not be noticed.” - -“No,” says the painter, “that might bring suspicion upon us. Perhaps I -can suggest a better way,” and begins to think, racking his subtle -Flemish brain as it has never been racked before. Ten seconds and he -cries out, hope in voice, joy in his eyes: “At the drinking bout Floris -is sure to win. Floris will drink every one of the Six Drunkards of -Brussels under the table, insensible, inert, lifeless. In the confusion -we can assist the insensible Vasco from the table, take him to a room -apparently to revive him, and steal from him the letters he has stolen -from me.” - -“But if Vasco wins?” - -“Impossible! I’ve seen Floris drink more wine at one sitting than any -other human beast on earth, I think, can hold and live.” - -“But we must be prepared in case he does not,” says the Englishman; -then he adds slowly: “Perhaps I can aid you; I have here,” he produces -from his breast a small glass flagon of Venetian manufacture, this is -protected from breakage by golden filigree work and its stopper -carefully sealed, in it is a colorless, limpid fluid. - -“What is it? Poison?” asks the painter. “The poison of the Borgias?” - -“No, the poison of the Antilles. This is the juice of the Manchineel -tree, prepared by the Indians of the Carrabees, after some secret -process of their own. You know the wonderful properties of the tree; to -sleep under it even for the night is death. It is peculiarly volatile, -therefore I keep it sealed. I have carried this with me in case I -should be captured and given over to the rack, to make me sleep so that -my tortured lips can tell no secrets of my Queen. If it should happen -that the painter doesn’t drink Vasco de Guerra insensible and inert, a -few drops of this in his flagon will make the Spanish spy sleep -forever.” - -“Then if Frans Floris doesn’t succeed—the poison of the Antilles,” -mutters the painter. “It is his life or ours.” After a second’s thought -he continues: “I must kill mine enemy Vasco anyway. Were he only made -insensible, even did I recover the letters of Louis of Nassau, he would -still suspect me. Some day he would get other proof. If I don’t kill -him now I must fly at once, and William the Silent will have no spy at -Alva’s elbow. For my country’s cause, I stay here. At the drinking bout -Vasco de Guerra dies. The lion’s jaws gape for me. By heaven, they -shall not close!” - -“That’s well said,” returns Guy, briefly. “Put a dose of this into the -Spanish spy.” - -He presses the flagon of Manchineel poison into the painter’s hand, but -suddenly looks doubtful, and asks anxiously this pertinent question: -“How, by all the saints, will you get this into Vasco’s drinking cup -and not into the flagons of the others?” - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -THE DRINKING BOUT AT THE PAINTED INN. - - -This question seems to stagger the artist. He mutters feebly, “How?” -then says: “Let me think. I know the customs of this country,” and -meditates with knitted brows. - -A few moments thought and he cries: “I have solved the problem.” - -“How?” asks the Englishman eagerly. - -“How? Why, it is the usage at these drinking bouts when the banquet is -at its height for friends of the combatants, for the honor of Bacchus, -to send huge drinking beakers full of the finest wine with their -compliments to the various contestants. Vasco de Guerra is a suitor for -the hand of Mademoiselle Bodé Volcker, the fair Mina that I love. That -shall be his destruction. After the tenth round, it would not be -prudent before—perhaps in his case I had better make it the fifteenth -huge goblet that he drinks—I shall send to him a flagon of wine -containing this, the poison of the Antilles,” he taps the vial the -Englishman has given him, “with the compliments of Wilhelmina Bodé -Volcker. De Guerra will not refuse a wine cup with such a message as -this, and then—, then—you and I,” he whispers this last, “my dear -Guido, in some quiet, happy, peaceful country would be called -murderers; but here we are simply playing out the game of life and -death. Now to business.” - -The two now go to mapping out their plan with the cool precision of men -who, having made up their minds, act rapidly upon their resolutions. - -“The drinking bout will take place at twelve. It is now ten o’clock. I -don’t think De Guerra has yet risen,” says Guy, “but I’ll watch him to -see that he doesn’t leave the inn to give your secret to any one. If he -makes any effort toward this, by some means I will detain him; while -you, my dear friend, go to the Citadel, get word with the lady -Hermoine, and arrange the meeting that is necessary, not only to my -safety but to my love.” - -Then, while Chester secures upon his person the cipher letters of -Vitelli and the key furnished by the artist, and perchance with even -greater care deposits in his bosom the miniature and letter of his -love, Antony Oliver arms himself with sword and pistols and looks -carefully to the keen Italian stiletto he always wears ready to his -hand. - -This done, the two go out together, Oliver leaving word with the barber -that his sons can get their meal for themselves when they return, but -that Achille is to meet them at the Painted Inn at the hour of noon. -Then striding through the narrow alleys into which the sun is but now -finding its way, the two pass to the pleasanter portion of the town. - -Here the painter takes leave of the Englishman, whispering: “Don’t lose -sight of Vasco.” - -“While you will do my errand?” suggests Chester wistfully. - -“Certainly. I have a good excuse for my interview with Doña Hermoine. -Her father only leaves Brussels at noon to-day. Alva will not be here -until late this evening, and would wish word of this given to his -daughter,” answers Oliver, and takes his way toward the Esplanade, -beyond which lies the Citadel. - -Going once more to the Painted Inn, Chester discovers that it is now -the scene of unusual animation. - -The wine room is crowded so that he can hardly get a seat to order his -breakfast, appetite having by this time obtained temporary ascendency -over love. By some deft questioning and pumping of the waiter who -attends him, the Englishman soon learns that the man he is in search of -only left his late carouse at three o’clock in the morning, and has not -yet arisen; probably thinking that retirement will best fit him for a -supremely great feat at the shrine of Bacchus. - -The conversation at the neighboring tables naturally turns upon the -drinking bout. The room is full of burghers and artists, some of whom -have come to enjoy the artist’s triumph, others to sorrow at the genius -that is being killed with wine. There is also a goodly delegation of -his creditors, who are here with anxiety in their hearts and on their -lips, for Frans Floris’s life is worth a large sum to them on account -of the paintings his facile brush creates; but Frans Floris dead is of -very little use to them, and they fear that some day he will kill -himself by the enormous quantity of wine he may imbibe in his effort to -place his competitors beneath the table. - -“Ah, Mijn Heer Dirk Coornhert, this is a sad day,” remarks a fat, -adipose citizen, whose smell of the malt-house proclaims the brewer. - -“Yes,” replies a man evidently of artistic tastes and education. “Have -you seen the poem I’ve printed to warn Floris of the danger of his -dissolute habits, not only to his genius but to his life? I read it to -him last night. It was an inspiration in which I depicted a dream -wherein the spirit of Albert Durer appeared to me and spoke in -melancholy and ghostly tones of the spirit sadness that was brought to -him even after a hundred years in the other world by an artist of -Floris’s ability becoming a drunkard.” - -“And did it reform him?” jeers the other. - -“Reform him!” cries Dirk Coornhert. “No, he swore he’d drink the health -of Albert Durer’s ghost to-day, and laughed in my face: ‘When I’m -drunk, I’m happy; I forget my creditors. When I’m sober my creditors -don’t let me forget them.’” - -“Verdomd! And I’m one of them,” growls the brewer. “Two thousand -carolus guilders for malt beer consumed at his house. A painter -building the greatest palace in Antwerp! Above its portal that drunken -conceit he’s painted: himself standing brush in hand and the muses -flying from all over the heavens to crown him. And out of it he drives -each day with four white horses in state, everybody doffing their hats -to him, his creditors bowing most humbly of all. If I didn’t think the -populace would mob me, I’d have him in the debtors’ prison. And then -his wife! Faugh! her dandy airs—as if she were a countess.” - -“Yes, she has ruined him,” murmurs the painter. “A woman’s ambition to -flaunt it with the noblesse, which a painter cannot do, though some of -our burghers seem to think it an easy task. There’s poor Bodé Volcker! -Have you heard of his daughter? They say the fair Wilhelmina aspires to -consort with the nobility, and has been taught to shake her feet under -the rod of a French dancing master and play on the harpsichord and -spinet, and sing with rare shakes and quavers and high-screeching notes -like a lewd Italian masquer. Ah! the days of Antwerp are changing. What -would her poor mother say? But old Niklaas is up in arms, and swears -his daughter shall go into his shop and sell his silks and satins -behind his counter, as her mother did, though they say he’s worth a -million crowns or more.” - -“Donder en Bliksem!” growls the brewer, “what’s a million crowns, or -two million, either, now—it’s only so much more for the accursed tenth -penny tax to eat up.” - -“Yes, God help every one,” assents the printer. “The tenth penny tax -will in time take all we have.” - -Then the brewer shakes his head sadly over a mug of strongest Flemish -ale and the printer sips his Rhine wine in silence; for Alva has just -levied his celebrated tenth penny tax, which decrees that every -transfer of merchandise in the Netherlands shall yield one-tenth of its -amount to the royal treasury, each and every time it is bought or sold. -This, of course, on active business means ultimately complete -confiscation and absolute ruin to the great trading classes of Brabant, -Flanders and Holland. - -This tenth penny tax does not make the crowd very loving to the -smattering of Spanish and Italian officers of the garrison, who stride -about with jingling spurs and clattering swords and armor, caring very -little whether they tread on burghers’ toes or not, and burying every -now and then their fiercely curled mustachios in flagons of Spanish -wine, mine host and his assistants serving them with greatest deference -and humility; for Antwerp writhed and groaned, but still lay prone -under the iron heel of Spanish military rule—from noble to peasant, -from merchant to fisherman. - -Among these military gallants none swagger more proudly than Ensign de -Busaco. Seeing Guy, this ferocious little dandy strides over, and, -slapping the Englishman cordially on the shoulder, cries: “What do you -wager, Capitan Guido, on the drinking bout? I am offering even -doubloons on the Drunkards of Brussels.” - -“That’s hardly fair,” says Guy, “six drunkards to one drunkard. But sit -down, and remember your promise of last night to join me in a friendly -beaker.” - -“Gracios, Señor Capitan,” murmurs the young officer, and soon he and -Chester are chatting over the juice of the grape. - -“You have come, I suppose, from the Middelburg garrison,” remarks the -Spaniard, “to see about your back pay. We haven’t had a stiver here, -one of us, for a good many months, and I imagine you are no better off. -But the tenth penny, my boy, will open up the paymaster’s department of -the army If it doesn’t—” he looks savagely round, “we intend to take -things into our own hands. This is a rich city, eh, for looting; the -spoils of the Indies and Peru right here within our grasp. Some day -we’ll make mincemeat of these burghers and take their goods and -chattels and wives and daughters into our keeping for a day or two, eh! -Booty and beauty!” - -“God help them,” thinks Guy, looking round the place, and into his mind -coming a vision of that awful “Spanish Fury” that broke forth on -Antwerp a few years afterwards. But he turns the conversation, -murmuring: “Of course we haven’t been paid, but still I have a few -doubloons in my pocket!” then cries: “Boy, another flask of wine!” - -This the two discuss together, the Spaniard telling the Englishman -that, though Floris is owned to be the greatest wine bibber in the -world, it is thought that the Six Drunkards of Brussels have some -extraordinary plan for defeating him, at least so it is whispered -about, and that if he has any money to venture on the game, to put it -against the artist. - -“They’ll win, my boy,” he laughs. “I’ve seen little Tomasito himself -drink eighteen flagons and never flinch a hair. Fancy what he will do -when stimulated by the magnificent banquet that is going in there,” he -points to the great wedding room at the rear, “and with the chance of -winning five hundred guilders and side bets as well. Besides, De Guerra -has been strangely happy for the last day, and he is never chuckling -except when he sees the ducats ahead. But I think I can get a bet from -Valdes, of our regiment. He has seen Floris drink, and swears that no -man under heaven is his equal. Excuse me on this little matter of -business,” and Ensign de Busaco rises and joins a group of Spanish -officers at the other end of the room, much to Guy’s pleasure, for he -sees that the painter, Antony Oliver, has returned and is anxiously -looking at him. - -As the Spaniard turns his back the Flemish artist is by Chester’s side -whispering: “I have done your errand.” - -“She will come?” - -“Yes, but I had great difficulty. She was as chilly as an iceberg at -first, asking how I dared bring such an audacious message.” - -“And then?” queries Guy eagerly. - -“Then I gave her the ring and told her that it was necessary for your -safety that she meet you; that you had periled yourself coming to this -town for her escort when you were absent from your garrison without -leave.” - -“What next?” says Chester. - -“Next she said nonchalantly: ‘I shall be at the house of the burgher -Bodé Volcker at three o’clock this day. My duenna, the Countess de -Pariza, thinks she would like to see the merchant’s daughter dance -again.’” - -“Anything else?” mutters Guy, discontentedly. - -“Oh, yes, she also remarked that her duenna would probably spend some -of her time, as she usually did, cheapening the silks, laces and -velvets in the merchant’s stock, while she would remain in the -burgomaster’s house and enjoy herself with the arts and graces of -Señorita Wilhelmina. ‘Where you will be, too, I suppose?’ she laughed, -‘Señor Oliver, and, perchance, the gentleman whose messenger and envoy -you are. Have you transferred your service from my father to the -Capitan Guido?’ At this,” says Oliver, with a slight chuckle, “I had -the audacity to remark, ‘Perhaps it may be all in the family,’ and left -her as red as the ruby ring she was holding in her hand.” - -This makes Chester flush with delight, and the room which had been dark -and gloomy to him at the painter’s first words, is very sunny and -bright. - -A moment after it is brighter still, as Oliver remarks: “I never saw -Hermoine de Alva blush at the mention of a human being before. Neither -do I think, my audacious gallant, there is a man in this world, saving -her own father, to whom she would accord a meeting. But you’d better -stop drinking,” he adds, “or you’ll be considered one of the Drunkards -of Brussels yourself, and we’ve something more than a drinking bout on -hand. Come, they are going in, I see my enemy and know he has my fate -in his hands.” He looks anxiously across the room, for there stands -Vasco, surrounded by his five fellow topers, all bearing the arms of -Brussels on their doublets. - -As De Guerra’s eyes meet those of Oliver a smile of cruel triumph -lights them up, and, with one quick, perchance unconscious, gesture, -his hand goes to his bosom, as if to reassure himself that something -very precious to him is still safe and ready. - -“See that movement?” whispers Guy to Antony. “That’s to be certain of -the letters that are your ruin if you don’t get them now!” - -“And will,” gasps the painter, though his hand trembles slightly, as he -feels to make sure on his part that he has the poison of the Antilles. - -With this the two join the surging throng that is now squeezing into -the great painted room at the rear of the inn, in which the grand -weddings of Antwerp are celebrated. This is now set apart for the -banquet which is to test the drinking powers of Antwerp’s genius and -the Brussels’ society for the prevention of intemperance—by drinking up -all the liquor in the world themselves. - -A minute later there is a wild cry—“He has come!” the people turning -from the dining-room and rushing toward the entrance of the house to -see De Vriendt, the artist, riding up upon his white horse, followed by -six of his pupils. - -This gives Guy and Oliver an easier entrance to the banquet room, of -which they take advantage, finding themselves in a high, heavily -studded apartment, with beautifully carved balustrades and roof beams, -the walls decorated by paintings and frescoes, some of them from the -brush of the contesting artist himself. - -In the center is a large oaken table, with seats for seven, covered -with everything that can increase the thirst and appetite for wine—salt -fish, caviare, and viands steeped in oil, which is supposed to develop -the capacity of man for liquor—all these decorated and arranged in -highest style of Netherland garniture; for there are flowers on the -table, and a wreath of roses with which to crown the victor. The whole -is a horrible hurly-burly of art, mediæval luxury and barbaric vice. - -Six seats about the board are occupied by the Drunkards of Brussels, -Vasco de Guerra sitting at the foot of the table as manager and captain -of his band of topers. Each man has before him an immense silver -frankforter or beaker glass holding a quantity of wine that would put a -temperance society in convulsions of righteous indignation. - -The seat at the head of the table is reserved for the one man who -contests against the many; the glory of Antwerp; the great genius who -is going to drown it in drink; the great toper who, in honor of his -city and a wager of five hundred guilders, is going to drink these six -other topers under the table; while all around this board dedicated to -gluttony and to Bacchus stands a melange of the masculine society of -the town, from Spanish General Vargas to little Ensign de Busaco; from -the fat merchant prince to the brawny representative of the Butchers’ -Guild—even to little Achille Touraine, who comes crawling and sneaking -in between the legs of the assembly to reach his master, getting -viciously kicked and spurred in this business by several dandy officers -whose uniforms he disarranges in his transit. - -“I am here as you directed, Monsieur Oliver,” he pants. “That is, part -of me—one of the officer’s spurs lanced me like my father does his -bleeding patients, and my face has been scraped as papa does his -shaving customers. But I—I couldn’t get here before, it took so long -for Marvedie and me to eat the last of the pigeon pie.” - -Here the boy’s voice is drowned by the buzz that greets the entrance of -the painter; as De Vriendt comes striding in, his pale Flemish face and -mild blue eyes lighted with a convivial smile, while tossing his hat on -high he cries: “Welcome, brother junketers of Brussels!” taking his -seat at the head of the table. - -This is responded to in kind, little Tomasito remarking: “Greeting, -brother pig of Antwerp.” A sally of mediæval wit, that makes the crowd -roar with laughter, though Floris’s pale face grows red with -humiliation—for one moment. - -The next he has forgotten all save the pleasure of the wine cup, for a -serving man places before him an immense Frankforter of strongest -Markobrunner, and in the love of the liquor he forgets his love of the -esteem of his fellows and townsmen. Rising from his chair he calls out: -“Let us begin, Drunkards of Brussels. The terms of the wager are -settled. I drink every one of you under the table, and leave you all -there.” - -“Those are the terms, Señor Floris,” murmurs De Guerra, a snicker in -his voice, and the six topers stand up, each man in his place, and each -with flagon in his hand, filled to the brim with the same strong wine -that faces De Vriendt. - -“Then DOWN!” cries Floris, and each man tosses off his ration with a -smack of delight, at which the crowd cries bravo. - -But the contestants have hardly seated themselves and got pick at -caviare or salted herring or potted anchovy, when the attendants have -refilled their beakers, and Floris shouts: “Again!” - -With this they rise once more, and down flies the Rhenish wine; then -take to eating—for with drunkenness goes gluttony. - -So the drinking bout goes on, viewed with varying faces by the crowd, -the excitement growing higher; but none have faces like Guy Chester and -Antony Oliver, for none, not even the greatest gambler in the town, has -so high a stake at risk upon this battle of giants at the shrine of -Bacchus. - -All the time the crowd gets greater, and dogs creep snarling in—they -have scented the feast, and hope for bones and pickings—and the dresses -of women can be seen in the great balcony used by musicians at the -wedding banquets, that stands at the further end of the hall; and -friends commence to send flagons of wine with their compliments and -good wishes to the various contestants. - -But the drinking is even, flagon for flagon, each man tossing off his -goblet at the same moment with the others, and then calling for -another—though sometimes the brand of wine is changed to stimulate -their appetites by varying flavors. Rothenberger has succeeded -Markobrunner and been displaced by Hochheimer. - -It is the tenth round. Seven immense silver mugs of strongest Rhine -wine are just passing the lips and sizzling down the gullets of the -contestants. - -“At the fifteenth,” whispers Oliver. - -“Why not do it now?” says Guy in his ear. - -“No, it wouldn’t be prudent before the fifteenth,” returns the painter. -“No one would believe that ten goblets would be the death of him.” - -A minute or two and the twelfth turn has passed, and after drinking -this one of the contestants, the little weazened Italian, Guisseppi -Pisa, attempting to rise from his chair—staggers, and goes down quietly -under the table. - -“Do it now,” whispers Guy. - -“I dare not—not yet,” returns Oliver. - -The thirteenth round is quaffed amid laughter and cheers, and as De -Guerra takes the goblet from his lips, Oliver’s face grows white and -drawn, and Guy’s also, for to their horror they see the man they -intended to poison at the fifteenth round, reel and fall insensible -beneath the table. - -“Too late! My God, he’s escaped me,” falters Antony. - -“We can get the documents anyway, from his insensible carcass when the -bout is over,” mutters the Englishman, recovering first. - -“Yes, but that is only postponing my destruction. Vasco’s suspicions -are aroused—the torture chamber gapes for me. I shall have to fly. I -can no longer do the work I had laid out for myself.” This is sighed -from white lips. - -But another shout goes up from the surrounding crowd; at the fourteenth -round two of the remaining Drunkards of Brussels have gone down. Two -more are left for the painter to vanquish, but these are very tough -ones. De Vriendt smiles in triumph; his Flemish face, though red and -flushed, appears mocking now; but his legs are a little shaky. - -Thus four more rounds pass; another of the Drunkards of Brussels joins -the company of those beneath the table. Now only one, little Tomasito, -is standing up for the ducats his friends have wagered upon him, and -the honor of the capital; when suddenly (for Guy has turned away his -head, only awaiting his opportunity at the finish of the bout to rob De -Guerra of the papers, and cares but little who wins the contest) the -Englishman feels his sleeve plucked, and looking up, sees Antony’s eyes -blazing. - -“He’s recovering!” whispers Oliver. - -“Who?” - -“Vasco! See him! He is staggering up to his feet again. He will win the -bout. It’s a trick—a trick to gain the advantage of so many flagons -over De Vriendt.” - -This is the feeling of Floris’s friends; and when De Guerra, staggering -up, shouts: “Another stoup of Rhine wine for the Drunkards of -Brussels,” they interpose and engage in angry altercation. - -But De Vriendt says: “I give him the advantage of five flagons, I will -finish him up also.” - -Another round is quaffed. Before it little Tomasito goes down as if -struck by a cannon ball, leaving only De Guerra and Floris standing -fronting each other, looking in each other’s faces, one with the smile -of the Fleming, the other filled with that curious rage peculiar to the -Spaniard, who, when excited, becomes savage in everything—savage in -war, savage in play, savage in love. - -Each pours down another beaker, and Floris is reeling. - -“Now’s your last chance,” whispers Guy. - -Calling a waiter Antony says: “A flagon of your strongest Rhine wine at -once.” - -While De Vriendt and the Spaniard are appetizing themselves for another -bout, one eating caviare savagely and the other lovingly dallying with -some pickled cod’s livers, to give him greater thirst, is the -opportunity of Oliver. - -The waiter, pouring the wine from the flask into the flagon, goes his -way, and a moment after, with a hand that has become deft by using the -delicate brushes of his art, the hunted artist skillfully unseals the -little vial and drops unnoticed a portion of its subtle poison into the -beaker. - -“Be sure you give him enough,” whispers Guy, who has been standing in -front of his friend to screen him, though the crowd is so great and the -excitement so intense, bets being offered two to one on the Spaniard, -it would have been unnoticed had no precaution been taken. - -At this suggestion Oliver pours a double dose into the flagon. Then, -handing it to Achille, who has been devoting his time to sucking the -oranges thrown from the table by the reeling and unsteady hands of the -contestants, he whispers: “Take this to the Spaniard, Vasco de Guerra.” - -“Yes!” - -“Be sure! The one with the black mustache with the single gray lock!” - -“Certainly, the brunette, I’m not a fool!” - -“Give it to him with the compliments and good wishes of Mademoiselle -Wilhelmina Bodé Volcker. Quick! get it to him at once!” - -As the two contestants rise and confront each other for another round, -the Spaniard standing up more strongly, for his tactics have given him -a great advantage, the boy Achille glides to De Guerra, gives him the -beaker prepared for him by the hand of the hunted one, and whispers -words into his ear that makes a flush of delight run over the drunken -redness of his face. - -Tossing aside the goblet that was to his hand, Vasco de Guerra cries: -“This is old red Rhine wine; I drink this, my reeling Floris, to the -beauty of Antwerp!” - -And clapping the flagon to his lips he pours down the whole stoup in -one long continued, triumphant gulp. Then looking at his rival the joy -of winning comes into Vasco de Guerra’s eye, for the painter, having -drunk his flagon, can scarce keep his feet. - -“Malediction!” whispers Oliver, “The drug does not work.” - -“Wait,” answers Guy. - -Then, too anxious to speak, their faces distorted with suspense, the -two gaze on while the contesting topers sink into their chairs and -fortify themselves with condiments for the next round. - -As the Spaniard eats he smiles on the painter, whose hands seem scarce -able to do their office. - -But their goblets are re-filled, and the two rise once more, Floris -supporting himself with one hand, as his feet need help now. - -“Drink!” says De Guerra, and the painter manages to get his portion -down, his competitor standing firm, erect and mocking. - -“Now see me!” and Vasco raises his flagon lightly, easily, -triumphantly, his backers giving a shout of joy. - -But just as he gets the goblet to his lips a kind of dazed expression -comes into De Guerra’s face, his hand falls nerveless by his side, and -the beaker, dropping from it, goes clattering to the floor, then -clutching with both hands at his throat as if for breath, he sinks -down, senseless and inert, upon the bodies of his companions, who lie -there in drunken stupor, while a cry of triumph goes up from the -assembled backers of Floris. - -A moment after De Vriendt, staggering, reeling, surrounded by his -friends, gets to the fresh air of the street, which gives him new -strength. Assisted by his six pupils, who will take him home and put -him to bed and nurse him after his drunken bout, he cries: “Ho! for -another stoup of Rhine wine, strong Rhine wine, landlord of the Painted -Inn!” and putting one foot in the stirrup, quaffs down a mighty -libation to his defeated ones. Then he rides reeling to his palace on -the street named after him, surrounded by happy creditors, who think if -Floris lives he will paint more pictures and pay some of his debts. - -The crowd, as it surges about, gives very little attention to the -Drunkards of Brussels, save one who indulges in a sly kick or two at -the recumbent forms that have lost him his money; but almost as he fell -Guy and Oliver have taken De Guerra, who is breathing heavily, and -borne him to an adjoining room. - -Here hastily opening his doublet the painter slips his hand in, and -sewn between the linings of his garments he feels a little packet. - -Ripping this out, he whispers, as he examines it, “Thank God! the six -letters from Louis of Nassau!” - -A moment after, Guy, putting his hand upon the breast of the Spaniard, -mutters: “The spy is dead.” And a great, deep-drawn breath of relief -comes from the Fleming—this one of his many dangers has died with Vasco -de Guerra. - -The color has returned to his face, and he laughs: “It was your lucky -coming and the pigeon pie that saved me—for a little while—my friend, -my Guido!” - -The two go out together, and on the street Oliver again looks serious -and mutters: “Alva! Here before his time. He was not to arrive till -evening. What has brought him so suddenly from Brussels?” - -For a cavalcade is prancing up the street; thirty horsemen armored in -steel with long lances bearing the pennon of Vargas. Before these, upon -a strong Andalusian charger, rides a man of spare but very tall -stature, in complete, glistening, gold-embossed Milan armor. Over the -gorget about his neck is the ribbon of the Golden Fleece upon which -hangs the Lamb of God, the insignia of that Order. This is covered by a -long sable, silvered beard that falls in two peculiar pointed locks -upon his breast, his dark hair cut short, is likewise grizzled; so is -his mustache, which drapes peculiar lips, the upper thin, firm and -determined; the lower sensual—but determined also; his forehead high, -pale, blue-veined and strangely intellectual, that of the military -mathematician; his nose aquiline and of rare beauty, keen cut, precise, -immovable, his cheeks sallow and pallid—altogether a face cold as -death, lighted by two blazing, sparkling, unflinching, serpent’s eyes, -and yet at times in certain features so like the woman that made Guy’s -heart beat with love the night before that he knows it is her father, -and murmurs: “Alva!” - -The Duke is talking quietly to Alfonso de Ulloa and Pedro Paciotto, his -great military engineer, who ride immediately behind him. All are -covered with the dust of hasty travel. - -As they pass the Painted Inn the Viceroy’s piercing eyes look haughtily -upon the crowd that stand upon the steps and throng the pentice of the -hostelry with doffed hats to do him reverence. Suddenly reining up, he -cries: “Oliver! Antonius Oliver!” and the painter, stepping forth, bows -before the Duke of Alva’s charger. - -“It is fate I have got word with you so soon. Find for me at once one -Vasco de Guerra, ex-Captain in Ladroño’s Musketeers. Tell him I will -hear his tale within the hour, and bring him with you to the Citadel at -once,” commands the captain-general. - -“Under favor, your—your Highness,” returns Oliver, “the—the man you ask -for—” - -“Yes, speak quickly. What are you stammering about?” says the Viceroy, -for the sudden demand for the man he has murdered has staggered the -painter, tactician though he is—for a moment. - -“I was about to say, your Highness, that this Vasco de Guerra, who is -one of the Six Drunkards of Brussels, now lies stupefied from his -potations at the drinking bout.” - -“What, with that rattle-brain artist Floris!” says Alva; then he -suddenly remarks in tones that send a tremor through the frame of -Oliver: “And that drunkard thought I would reinstate him in his rank in -the army! Some communication he would make to me to-day—something upon -which the safety of the realm perhaps depended—something that brought -me to Antwerp four hours ahead of my time! Take word to the captain of -the provost guard to arrest De Guerra at once. I will speak with him in -prison when he recovers his senses—this fool, this drunkard, this -wine-bibber. And yet—I wonder what he had to tell me? Forward, -gentlemen!” - -And the Duke rides on, leaving the painter standing almost as -breathless as the corpse inside the Painted Inn; for Oliver knows the -hand of death has been almost as near to him as to the dead, and -mutters, as he rejoins Guy; “Ehu! truly the lion’s jaws had nearly -closed!” - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -LOVE—BY A COUP DE MAIN. - - -“Yes, just in time,” whispers the Englishman, drawing a long breath -also. Then he takes a hasty look at the tall Dutch clock ticking lazily -away in the wine room. - -Noting this the painter laughs. “The sight of the father makes you -impatient for the daughter, eh? But you’ve another half an hour to -wait, my impulsive gallant. Besides, I haven’t eaten to-day. The -provost marshal must wait until I get a bite. Join me in—in my dinner.” - -So giving order to an alert serving man, the two sit down to a very -hasty, yet comfortable meal, seasoned by peace and contentment, for -these young men are so accustomed to danger that any little breathing -spell in their struggle with sudden death seems to them a calm, quiet -and contented time. - -As he eats and drinks Guy looks lazily up and down the street; crowds -of people are passing along the Shoemarket. This throng is made -picturesque by a smattering of the costumes of most of the nations of -the earth; for at this time Antwerp is the mart of Northern Europe, and -the greatest commercial emporium of the age. - -Ships are taking cargo at its river front for the Indies, East and -West, for even the distant coasts of Peru and the Cape of Good Hope, -and others are unloading from the Baltic and the Mediterranean: -consequently seamen and visitors from all known portions of the globe -increase the vivacity of the scene. - -Curiously enough, there are no English walking the streets of Antwerp -to-day, for since Elizabeth stole Alva’s eight hundred thousand crowns, -the Duke has forbidden any commerce with Great Britain, and has -sequestered all English property and driven out all English merchants -living or doing business in Antwerp, of which before this there have -been a great number, the English wool trade being one of the great -sources of revenue of the city. Just now Antwerp is at its very zenith, -from which it is about to go down under the exactions, taxes and -tyranny of the Spaniard into a fourth-rate commercial town. - -But the burghers, though gloomy and oppressed, do not anticipate, and -the merchants still laugh lightly upon the street, thinking themselves -princes upon the throne of a commerce that can never be destroyed. - -This absence of English blood and English feature would make Guy -conspicuous, were not several Danish officers of De Billy striding -about the street, and some of these have fair hair, blue eyes and Saxon -blondness. - -“Now I must carry Alva’s orders to the provost marshal. Fortunately his -office is not far from here. Wait for me, I will return in quarter of -an hour. You need not look so impatiently at the clock,” remarks -Oliver. - -But Guy is not looking at the clock. His eyes are fixed upon a man in -the costume of a South Zeeland trader who is carefully wiping a pair of -tortoise-shell rimmed spectacles and inspecting the placard offering -reward for the head of the “First of the English.” As the Zeelander -turns the Englishman knows that he has seen him before. - -A moment after Chester thinks this man recognizes him, for, though he -turns away his head, he keeps one eye upon this gentleman, and notes -this gentleman has one eye on him. - -“Take me to the provost marshal’s with you,” he whispers to Oliver. - -“You—want to go there?” gasps Antony, opening his eyes very wide. - -“Yes,” returns Guy. “There’s a gentleman here who recognizes me, and -has also made himself acquainted with the value of my head. If he -follows me I’ll astonish him.” - -As the two rise, Oliver’s face very serious at this, they are joined by -little De Busaco, who comes striding up to them to be rather effusively -welcomed by Chester, who thinks that apparent intimacy with Spanish -officers may remove the suspicions of the man who is watching him. - -“You’re in good company, I see, Amati,” says the little ensign. -“Introduce me to the honor of the acquaintance of the Duke’s -under-secretary.” - -And this being done the young Spaniard says: “Where are you going?” - -“To the provost marshal’s office.” - -“Then I’ll go with you,” remarks De Busaco. “I’ve business there -myself. I wish to get leave to remain in the town this evening. A -little Flemish girl, you understand!” he strokes his mustachios -knowingly. - -As they walk along the street together, De Busaco, who apparently has -joined them for this purpose, goes to questioning and pumping Oliver as -to what prospect there is of a near pay-day for the garrison of -Antwerp; if he knows anything of the Duke’s plans; how the tenth penny -tax comes on, etc., etc., his losses at the drinking bout having -apparently made him anxious on this subject. - -Guy, however, pays little heed to this. Eye and ear are intent to -discover if he is followed by the Zeeland trader. The Shoemarket is so -well peopled that this is difficult to determine, but after they have -walked from it to Kammer street, past the Inn of the Red Lion, and -turned into the network of narrow alleys that lead to the main -watergate of the town, where the provost marshal’s office is situated, -the crowd grows less and Chester, turning slightly, catches sight of -the man whom he fears. - -This personage dogs them straight to the city gate, but stands gaping -in astonishment as Guy and Oliver, accompanied by the young Spanish -officer, enter the office of Alva’s provost marshal, the very door of -which is placarded with the reward of three thousand Carolus guilders. - -“De Busaco,” remarks the Englishman, pausing at the door, “do you see -that man in South Zeeland dress?” - -“Yes.” - -“Do you want something that will save you anxiety about your back pay?” - -“Santos! yes!” - -“Then take a couple of men and get him. He lives in the disaffected -provinces at Flushing. I think the Council of Troubles are looking for -him.” - -“A reward!” cries the little Spaniard, then flying into the guard room -and unheeding military etiquette he calls out, “Some men with me, -quick—there’s money in it!” - -Two Spanish soldiers, springing up at his bidding from the crowd -lounging about the guard-room, he starts with these hurriedly for the -street, and is soon in hot pursuit of the trader from South Zeeland, -crying: “Heretico fugitivo!” and other words of rage and fury which -make that gentleman quicken his steps to so good a purpose that -apparently knowing the town well, he dodges into some of the blind -alleys in this densely crowded portion of the city, and escapes from -the little Spaniard, whose jack boots are not conducive to extreme -fleetness of foot. - -“I couldn’t catch him,” remarks De Busaco, five minutes afterward, -returning breathless, “but I’ll keep my eye open for him.” - -“Very well, his reward will make you forget your back pay,” remarks -Guy, as Oliver returns from the inner office, where he has been -closeted with the captain of the guard, and says the necessary orders -have been given for the arrest of De Guerra. - -“I don’t think,” laughs Chester, as he and Oliver walk along the street -together (for they have left the ensign at the provost marshal’s) “that -that gentleman from South Zeeland will be anxious to report himself at -any of the guard-houses of this town to give information about me. And -now, after danger—” the look on his face tells his meaning to the -little painter, who murmurs: “Love!” - -So the two stride up Kammer street again, and along the Shoemarket to -the Place de Meir, where the great house of Bodé Volcker is situated, -and going in, find themselves very shortly en rapport with the family -of a merchant of that day. - -As they reach the arched passageway leading to the courtyard, seeing no -signs of equipage, the corner of Guy’s mouth droops. - -“Don’t be impatient; it is better to be first, then I can arrange our -little scheme of bargains before the arrival of the duenna Countess and -her charge,” says the artist. - -Leading the way with the familiarity that denotes a friend of the -house, Oliver raps upon a side door situated at the further end of the -courtyard, and almost immediately is admitted by the servant girl of -the evening before; the lady’s maid, Wiarda, she of the haughty nose, -apparently being engaged elsewhere. - -They enter directly into what is the living room of the house. Here the -family of Bodé Volcker, consisting of himself, Jakob, a boy of sixteen, -who has just left school for the counting room, and the daughter, -Wilhelmina, whose soft blonde curls and merry blue eyes have induced -Oliver not only to put her upon his canvas but in his heart, are -apparently engaged in a family discussion that is becoming highly -flavored. - -The old gentleman, an energetic but fat Fleming, with commercial -expression and commercial eyes, is evidently excited. His cheeks are -red and angry. The young lady’s blue eyes are equally angry, though -they are slightly dimmed by latent tears, and one of the corners of her -dear little mouth is twitching nervously. The boy, like most cubs of -his age, is seemingly enjoying some dispute between papa and sister, -for his blonde German face has a suppressed snicker in it. If he dared -he would laugh. - -“Ah, Oliver,” cries the merchant, rising with outstretched hands, “back -from Brussels! A short trip,” and welcomes the painter with the easy -familiarity of a friend of his house. - -Miss Wilhelmina, on the contrary, greets Antony in haughty Spanish -style, extending white fingers for her sweetheart to kiss. - -The cub merely snickers; “Hoe maakt je ’t?” - -“I’ve taken the liberty of bringing a friend, Captain Guido Amati, of -the Middelburg garrison,” remarks the painter. - -“A friend of yours, Oliver! Welcome—welcome to everything in my house,” -says Niklaas with Flemish hospitality, giving Guy cordial greeting. - -“Captain Amati is known to the Doña Hermoine, and as the Duke’s -secretary—” - -It is unnecessary to say more; at mention of the Viceroy’s daughter -Miss Wilhelmina most affably seconds her father’s hospitality and -extends her white fingers for Spanish welcome. These Guy, making no -mistake this time, kisses, perhaps lingering a shade too long over the -soft, fair hand for the pleasure of his friend Oliver. - -Then the merchant cries out suddenly with Flemish primitiveness: -“Chairs, Wilhelmina; chairs for the gentlemen!” - -“Father!” remarks the young lady haughtily, “you forget we have lackeys -in the house,” and, ringing a hand bell, orders the serving man to -place seats for the cavaliers. - -“Oh, ho! more foreign airs!” jeers the old gentleman snappishly, -apparently taking up a discussion that has been dropped. “Don’t forget -Flanders simplicity, my daughter. Though your father is called a -millionaire, perhaps he won’t be a millionaire long, with that accursed -tenth penny tax,” adds Niklaas, grinding his teeth. - -“You come from Brussels, Señor Antony,” interrupts the young lady, -adopting the Spanish style of address. “While there I presume, as the -Duke’s under-secretary, you met the Duchess of Aerschot. She arrives in -Antwerp to-day, and gives an entertainment to-morrow evening. You will -be there, I presume, Captain Amati, also Señor Oliver?” - -“Unfortunately I leave Antwerp this evening,” answers Guy. - -“And under-secretaries and heralds are not invited,” remarks the -painter, apparently by no means pleased at the idea. - -“You’ll go, I presume, Freule Bodé Volcker?” suggests Guy, -persuasively. “Your dance, I believe, is much admired.” - -“Of course,” murmurs the young lady, nonchalantly. - -“Of course not!” cries the Flemish father with the air of a Roman one. - -“Papa!” - -“Verdomd! Do you suppose I’ll have you, my young lady, keep my carriage -horses out again as you did last night, so that they went to sleep in -the goods van this morning! The Countess of Mansfeld’s yesterday and -the Duchess of Aerschot’s to-morrow and you not up until dinner to-day. -My servants eating me out of house and home; you haven’t kept your -household accounts for a week! Don’t answer me, miss, I have looked at -your market book, not written up—not written up—no commercial ideas! -But let me tell you,” adds the old gentleman, “if this happens again, -down you come at eight in the morning and attend to women customers in -the wareroom,” he points toward the commercial end of the house. -“Remember that!” - -And bottling up his wrath, Papa Bodé Volcker makes adieu to Guy and -Oliver, remarking that he must attend to business if none of the rest -of the family do, but dragging off the snickering boy Jakob. - -“Papa is very eccentric. This sort of discussion always begins with the -tenth penny tax,” remarks the young lady solemnly. Then she half sighs, -half laughs: “We have this every week or two, though not generally in -public. He’ll be coming back again in a minute,” giving a little -horrified snicker as the old gentleman fulfils her prophecy by popping -his head in at the door and crying: - -“And that French jumping-jack, who teaches you to sling your feet -about! I flung him out, waistband and neck ruff, this morning!” - -But this news is too much for the fair Wilhelmina’s complacency. She -springs up with a scream of horror, “Oh, papa! Poor, dear little -Monsieur de Valmy!” and there are tears in her eyes. - -“Yes, and the music master, that spinet playing fellow, goes also. No -more flipping the heel and raising the toe; no more semi-quavers and -high Italian screeches,” jabbers the ex-burgomaster. “Remember the -tenth penny tax! Some day I will be a music teacher myself,” and with -this extraordinary prophecy Bodé Volcker darts for his counting room. - -But this astounding prediction is too much for every one. They go into -laughter, which Miss Wilhelmina leads, ejaculating: “A music teacher, -indeed! Screeches and semi-quavers!” - -Tossing herself into a chair in front of a near-by spinet, she gives -out smilingly a little Provençal chançon with such unaffected ease and -grace that both Guy and Oliver declare it would be a shame if the music -master should be suppressed, tenth penny tax or no. - -This seems to put them all at their ease, Miss Bodé Volcker regaling -the gentlemen with an account of the grand fête of the Countess -Mansfeld in honor of Doña de Alva the night before, mentioning the -names of the Signeurs de la Noircarmes, D’Avila, Mondragon, Gabriel de -Cerbolloni, and other officers and nobles as being present, as well as -the younger Countess Mansfeld, the aristocratic Baroness d’ Ayala, and -the beautiful Doña Anica de la Medrado, just come with the latest -Madrid fashions. “I was the only one from the town,” she adds -innocently, “but my dancing was greatly admired.” - -A moment after they have proof of this. - -There is a clatter of hoofs in the courtyard and four prancing Spanish -mules come clattering in dragging a coach of state, their outriders and -lackeys in the glittering liveries of Alva. - -A second after Doña Hermoine, robed in priceless furs, her glorious -head shaded by jaunty Spanish hat and long white plumes, her face -brilliant with brunette radiance, her eyes growing, perchance, more -brilliant, as they look upon Guy Chester’s well-knit form, enters the -apartment. Behind her comes the attendant Countess de Pariza, -duenna-like aspect on her formal face. - -Though Guy and Oliver rise quickly to greet rank, title and beauty, -Miss Bodé Volcker is before them at the door welcoming the ladies who -do her and her house so much honor. - -“It is so condescending of you, Doña de Alva, so kind of you, Countess -de Pariza,” she murmurs, “to honor me in my own home,” and courtesying -to the ground, kisses Hermoine’s hand, which that young lady, daughter -of the Viceroy of Spain, courteously permits,—then steps immediately -across the apartment to allow the two gentlemen, bowing before her, the -same privilege. - -The Countess de Pariza does not extend her formal, thin, severe hand, -as the daughter of the ex-burgomaster courtesies to the floor before -her, but says rather brusquely: “We have called, Juffrouw Bodé Volcker -to see you dance again. It pleased me greatly last night.” - -“To see me dance—here?” says the young lady, pouting, as the Countess -uses to her Juffrouw, the title of the middle classes, with little more -ceremony than she would to a serving girl. “I—I am not in costume. -Besides, these gentlemen—.” Miss Bodé Volcker looks embarrassed, as the -request has the form of a command, that will make her seem more like a -dancing girl than a young lady of society to Captain Guido Amati. - -“To be sure. You can put on your costume. Run upstairs, and deck -yourself at once. Those pink silk stockings become you,” replies Señora -de Pariza. “As for these gentlemen,” she turns her argus eyes upon -Chester and Oliver, who are in conversation with Doña Hermoine, though -as her father’s under-secretary, Antony has stepped slightly behind the -Englishman, who is a military swell under his title Captain of -Musketeers, “they must be relatives, you converse with them alone, -Juffrouw Bodé Volcker. It’s a very bad habit for girls of your age to -adopt. Lines of propriety are drawn at brothers; cousins are very -dangerous. So trip upstairs and put on the costume of Hungary, which -became you so well last night. I will call in one of my Moorish girls -who plays the spinet.” - -With this the duenna would stride to the door to summon an attendant, -but Doña Hermoine, noting the embarrassment the order causes the -aspiring Mina, with that unaffected condescension which very great rank -permits the potentates of this world to make those below them in -station easy and happy, suddenly cries; - -“Dancing, Countess? then I’m your young lady!” and tossing off with one -graceful gesture her furry wraps, with another sweeps up a trailing -silken skirt and stands a picture before them, laughing: “Castanets, -and I am an Andalusian gipsy!” - -But the duenna, suddenly drawing herself up, utters a horrified -ejaculation: “Before these gentlemen, Doña de Alva?” - -“Why not, if I can dance well enough to please them? Captain Guido has -placed me last night under obligations that permit me to do anything -for his benefit and pleasure, and Señor Oliver is one of my father’s -household, and as such very near to me.” - -Here Oliver winces. He could betray the tyrant father, but the thought -that this being of goodness and kindness will one day think him a -traitor and ignoble brings with it twinges of remorse. - -“Dance! The daughter of the Viceroy tossing her feet about?” ejaculates -the duenna. - -“Pooh!” laughs the girl archly. “Have I not posed for Señor Oliver’s -Madonna—in bare feet too. Some day I am to make Señor Antony -celebrated, or, rather, he will make me worshiped by his genius and his -altar piece.” - -“You posed for your foot” murmurs Guy, casting an enraptured glance at -the exquisite member the girl displays as she still holds the Gitana -attitude. - -“Yes, I hope he painted them small enough to please you,” laughs the -young lady. “But sit down at the spinet, Señorita Mina, and play for me -so that I may enrapture the Countess de Pariza by dancing,” adds Doña -Hermoine, looking archly at her duenna, who seems to have lost her -appetite for Terpsichore. - -To this, the dragon says sharply: “Since Juffrouw Bodé Volcker is -indisposed to repeat for me the pleasure of last evening, I will go -into her father’s shop and see if there are any bargains to-day in -Lyons silks and velvets and the lace of Venice.” - -“There should be,” remarks Oliver, suggestively. “Great bargains! The -damage from the flood must have cheapened everything.” - -“Bargains! Come, let me see,” and La Pariza would call her two Moorish -attendants, but Guy, who has been wishing her God-speed in his heart -ever since she has entered, very politely opens the door for her -departure across the courtyard to the warerooms of the merchant. - -Doña Hermoine has apparently not come on a shopping expedition, at -least not for laces and dress goods; she does not accompany her duenna, -but remains standing, a picture of grace, in the attitude she has taken -for the dance. - -“You don’t care for new costumes, Doña de Alva,” remarks Guy dreamily, -the beauty of the girl’s pose enchanting him, as well it may, for the -young lady wears some soft clinging costume of southern Spain with -Moorish effects in it, that outlines her lithe graceful beauty in every -curve, and, swept up by one dainty hand, permits a suspicion of ankle -so exquisite in proportion and symmetry that poets would dream over -it—but this audacious sailor simply loves it. - -“No, why should I? I have dozens I never use, and papa would give me a -thousand if I were foolish enough to want them,” replies Doña Hermoine, -resigning Gitana attitude and sweeping her Moorish jupe upon the floor -again. “He gives me everything I ask for.” Then she remarks naively: -“You have discovered my name—that I am the daughter of the Viceroy, -Captain Guido Amati. You—you see I have discovered your name. Or rather -I should say, Major Guido Amati.” - -“Major?” - -“Yes; promoted since noon!” - -“But your father—?” - -“Oh, I told him nothing about it. You are absent without leave. Neither -did I tell Sancho d’Avila, who is colonel of your regiment in the -absence of Romero in Spain. But there was a vacancy, and it was easily -granted to Captain Guido Amati, who, I am informed, is the bravest -officer in the army, or one of the bravest. That is all that can be -said for any man under Alva.” - -“Major in Romero’s foot!” gasps Guy, who, during this speech, has been -gazing at her in a dazed, startled way. - -“Yes, I took the muster-roll of the regiment myself, and saw that -Captain was altered to Major.” - -“The muster-roll!” murmurs Chester, not believing his ears. - -“Yes, there are duplicates at the Citadel.” - -“The muster-rolls at the Citadel,” he stammers, stunned by surprise. -Then suddenly it flashes through him that amazement will betray him, -that gratitude is the only way he can receive this astounding -communication; a gratitude that is very pleasant to him. Taking -advantage of the young lady’s position, for she has extended a hand -toward him in happy, gracious gesture, he imprints one kiss of -obligation upon it and two more of rapturous love, and Miss Brunette’s -lilies become roses. - -This is effected without undue publicity, as Oliver has taken the fair -Mina into the next room, and is whispering into her ear: “Look in Doña -Hermoine’s eyes. Don’t you see a request, you foolish girl? She saved -you from the embarrassment of the dance; do something for her. Please -your father. Go in and be a saleswoman. Show the Countess de Pariza -every bargain in your store. Furthermore, make them bargains. Cut the -price of everything in half.” - -“Cut prices one-half! Great heavens, my father!” - -“I’ll pay the balance, or rather Captain Amati will.” - -“Oh, I see,” laughs the girl. “But what will her father, the awful -Duke, say?” - -“He’ll never know if you give Countess de Pariza bargains enough to -keep her busy. Do it—for me.” - -“Oh, you—!” - -For the painter has emphasized his “for me” by a lover’s salute. - -Thus urged, and catching Hermoine’s bright eyes with a request in them, -Mina runs away under Oliver’s promptings to make a bargain counter of -her father’s whole store, and to cut prices in such a way that would -rouse the old Bodé Volcker to madness were he present; but fortunately -Heer Bodé Volcker has gone down to the quay to see about the unloading -of a ship. - -A minute later Oliver has sauntered to the extreme end of the great -banqueting room. Though theoretically he is present, practically he -sees nothing, hears nothing, and the daughter of the Viceroy and Guy -Stanhope Chester are alone together. - -“You see,” says the young lady, archly, “I’ve been inquiring about you. -Oh, don’t be afraid. No one knows that you are here—absent from duty. -They wouldn’t have made you Major, perhaps, if they had. But it has -been whispered to me that you are even more than Major Guido Amati. You -are Major Guido Amati de Medina, son of Hernandez de Medina, once -Viceroy of Hispaniola, and have sworn never to assume your exalted -family name until you are a general, which you soon must be.” - -Then she cries out suddenly, clapping her hands, “Why, since you’re a -Medina, you must be a cousin to the Duke of Medina Cœli.” - -“Only—only third cousin,” stammers Guy, who thinks his ears are playing -him false, though he knows his eyes are doing very good work, indeed. - -“Well, anyway, you have the blood of the grandees of Spain, and as such -your family is equal to mine,” murmurs the girl, a curious emphasis on -the last remark. “As such, of course, you may sit by my side,” and the -young lady sinking upon a Turkish sofa, a dream of vivacious grace, -motions Guy to the familiarity of equal social station. - -As she looks on the Englishman a great wave of color flies over -Hermoine de Alva’s face, and in response Chester’s heart gives a big -jump or two as he sees what must have been the drift of the girl’s -mind. - -“I am glad that you know so much about me,” he says, laughingly, then -goes on grimly: “Glad that what you have learned has not displeased -you.” - -“Oh, I don’t know altogether that,” remarks the young lady; then she -says, archness in her tone, but a quiver on her lip: “It was also -whispered that Captain Guido Amati was a very wild young man. I hope -that Major Guido Amati will be more circumspect. But still, they said -you were the bravest officer in the army.” And the girl looks at him -joyously, radiantly, proudly. - -She has apparently been conjuring up some dream, some vision of her -imagination, the center of which has always been Guido Amati; it brings -a light into her eyes that adds even to her beauty, for at times were -it not for womanly graces, vivacity and emotion, her brilliant -intellect would, perchance, give too great coldness to Hermoine de -Alva’s exquisite face. - -But, fired by the latent romance of her nature, her delicate face is as -inspired—it would put glow into a saint: but with a sailor—. - -And what she says gives golden opportunity. She has held up the ruby -ring and whispered, “You returned this to me?” - -“Only that I might see you again,” and Guy is seated beside her. - -“Then if you wish to see me once more, take the ruby from me—quick!” - -“Never!” - -“Never?” - -“Never, unless on your finger, you wear this, one of my spoils of -Hispaniola.” And the Englishman has taken from a chain about his neck a -ring bearing a single brilliant. - -“Oh, Santos! What are you doing?” falters the girl. - -He has got possession of her fair hand now, and her eyes look into his -for one great glance, then turn from him, and droop; their long lashed -lids falling upon flaming cheeks. The next instant the diamond sparkles -on the taper finger and Hermoine de Alva, the daughter of Spain’s -Viceroy is only woman—loving woman—before this man, who has not wooed -her heart, but has seized it. - -“Take the ruby—now you’ve given me the diamond,” she murmurs. “You—you -know what this means?” - -“Please God, I do! You are my plighted bride. Mine—mine now forever!” -And his audacious lips give lover’s greeting, not as the night before, -the kiss of hasty mistletoe effect, but the long rapture of clinging -hearts. - -“Beware! I—I am the Viceroy’s daughter,” murmurs the lady. She hangs -her head, then suddenly raises her eyes to his and goes on firmly, -distinctly: “My Guido, you are audacious!” - -“Yes,” he whispers, “Were you the Queen of Spain, I’d love you.” - -“Then you could not win me!” - -“But as, thank God, you are Hermoine de Alva,” answers Guy sturdily, “I -will win you and wear you, daughter of the Viceroy though you be, for -my beloved wife. You hear the term!”—for she gives sudden start at this -new title. “Wife! And every time you say to me, ‘I am the daughter of -Alva,’ or ‘Beware the Captain General of the Netherlands!’ your lips -that do the deed shall pay the price, two for each word.” - -“Madre Mia! How impulsive you are,” cries the girl panting and -struggling under the penalty exacted. For Guy Stanhope Chester is half -mad with love and rapture, and though he respects this captive of his -masculine bow and spear, still he woos her in a free and easy sailor -manner which enthralls but astounds this daughter of the Viceroy. “Holy -Virgin! you—you are so—so different.” - -“From whom?” cries Guy in jealous tones. - -“From—from the other suitors, who come bowing to the earth, mincing -compliments and fawning for the honor of my hand.” - -“And they have dared?” snarls this gallant, who now regards all this -brunette loveliness, these drooping, melting eyes, these lily and rose -tinted cheeks, these ivory shoulders, this exquisite form, half girl’s, -half woman’s—in short Hermoine de Alva—as his very own. - -“Dared!” pouts the young lady; then laughs, “Why not? Am I so very -ugly?” - -“No, no! too beautiful.” - -“Then why should not grandees of Spain and generals in the army and -Hidalgos of twenty-four quarterings aspire in humble tones and modest -manner for an honor you take, my audacious Guido, as if heaven had -given you title to me, the daughter of a Viceroy!” - -“And so it has, and love likewise, thy love,” and Guy has her in his -arms again, murmuring: “You spoke the words ‘the daughter of a -Viceroy!’ Beware the penalty.” - -“Take it, tyrant,” whispers the girl, and with this name that women -love to give to those whose domination commands their love, she puts -her soul upon her lips and gives it to him. - -And this game might go on indefinitely, the two seeming to like to play -it very well, did not the sound of Oliver’s rapid footsteps announce -his coming from the banqueting room. - -He steps to them, and bowing before the young lady says: “Doña de Alva, -I have the honor, as your father’s herald, to announce his coming!” - -“Papa! Here!” and with these words the girl is up. - -“Yes, the Duke’s cavalcade is already in the Shoemarket, doubtless he -is in search of you. I will tell the Countess de Pariza.” - -As Oliver on his errand closes the door Guy knows his time is very -short, for Hermoine is dallying with her furs and whispering: “Away -from your garrison without leave, papa had better not see you. I will -meet him in the street.” - -Then as Guy is wrapping the cloak about her, each touch a caress, she -adds significantly; “I shall spend a month or two in Brussels, but if -Major Guido Amati de Medina asks for leave from the Middelburg -garrison, he will doubtless get it. Though don’t, for sight of me, -neglect the duties of your post. Remember, my Guido, that every step -you take in the army brings you nearer to the church door where a bride -awaits you—whom you have made forget she is the daughter of a Viceroy!” - -“Penalty!” mutters Guy, and takes this kiss very solemnly, for already -the murmur of the approaching crowd tells of the coming father. - -At this the young lady says, with a delicious moue: “How doleful! One -would think you an unsuccessful suitor! But your message by Oliver -spoke of danger,” and there is a tremor in her voice. - -“Yes, I must have the word of the night to pass the sentries. I must -leave this evening.” - -“Of course to be in Middelburg when your commission arrives. I have -thought of that and brought it with me.” With this she hands him a -little paper. - -It reads: - - - THE WORD IS “SANTA CRUZ.” - COUNTERSIGN “DON FREDRICO.” - - -As he glances at this, she smiles in his face: “I’ve half a mind not to -give it to you—not to let you go. What brought my rash young officer to -Antwerp without leave?” - -“You.” - -“Oh!” - -“And for you I’d come again a thousand times. I was going to the -Drowned Lands duck shooting, when, by the blessing of God, I saved you -from the Beggars of the Sea, my own—my prize.” And knowing that every -chance of this earth is against his wearing as his bride this -sweetheart he has won, Guy’s face is drawn and contorted with the agony -of a parting that is to him like death. Sadness is catching as well as -love, and the girl gets to sighing and sobbing under his farewells that -are so solemn—though she can’t guess why. - -But Oliver, with rattling door-latch, cries: “The Countess de Pariza is -already in the carriage. Quick!” - -Then Guy, seeing his time has come, though his sweetheart would linger -longer, and begins to cling to him with little sighs of love, hurriedly -assists her to the carriage and puts her in. - -Half turning round, his affianced holds up her white finger to him. -Upon it glistens the ring of his love. - -The postilions crack their whips, the state vehicle flies through the -arch, and all that he has to remind him of the woman who was but now in -his arms, is the memory of her kisses, her ruby ring upon his finger, -and a little document that bears the talisman that will make him safe -from her father’s sentries at the gates. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -“THE UNGAINABLE!—BUT I’LL GAIN HER!” - - -“Look,” says the painter, leading the way to a window opening on the -street. - -And Guy, from the curtains of Bodé Volcker’s house, sees the man of the -death’s face, before whom the crowd cower and tremble, bow to his -saddle-bow before the coach of his daughter, his face illuminated by -the proud eyes of father’s love. - -“Egad! I think I’ve run up my account with him,” mutters the -Englishman. Then he turns suddenly to Antony and says: “A word with -you. On my first visit here, for my safety you invented for my use the -name of Captain Guido Amati, of Romero’s foot. There is another living -Guido Amati, Captain of Romero’s foot.” - -“Certainly there is,” returns Oliver, and astounds Guy. “I took the -name from the roster of Romero’s regiment. It was then quartered in -Friesland, two hundred miles from here, the most distant of all the -Netherland provinces, and I thought it better to give you a name that -could be verified. But what does this matter?” - -“Matter!” replies Chester glumly. “Only this, that I have just learned -that Guido Amati has been promoted on my account to Major in his -regiment; that Captain Guido Amati of Romero’s foot has been behaving -in some wild, reckless kind of manner, apparently with ladies, and that -Major Guido Amati has just been severely cautioned to behave himself -from this time forth most circumspectly. Zounds!” he goes on savagely, -“if this gentleman I am christened after doesn’t take good care he’ll -have an account to render to me, who have now his sins on my -shoulders!” - -Then he bursts into a laugh in which Oliver joins, and says more -complacently: “But I’ve also got the reputation of being the bravest -man in the army. Besides, I am the third cousin of the Duke of Medina -Cœli, and, I imagine, entitled to keep my hat on in the presence of -Philip II. of Spain.” - -“Very well, my grandee,” returns Antony smiling. “Here is the bill the -Countess de Pariza has run up against you—two hundred guilders! That’s -your half of the affair. If his Highness of Alva hadn’t chanced along I -imagine she’d have bought all in Bodé Volcker’s warehouses.” - -“A—ah,” sighs Guy, passing over the money, “I’d give everything I have -for another tête-à-tête with my—my promised wife,” he struggles with a -tear as he thinks of the beautiful being whose love he has captured by -a coup de main. - -“Your promised wife!” gasps Oliver. “Morbleu! you have been making -hay,” next shortly says: “By heaven, if Alva ever puts hand on you and -knows this, dread the reckoning, my audacious Englishman. Besides, -you’ll have to be quick about this matter if you ever get her!” - -“Why so?” - -“Alva will not remain in the Netherlands much longer. The country is -crushed (pacified he calls it), though the embers are smouldering. He’s -collecting the tenth penny tax, but not paying the troops. Some of the -money he sends to Spain—just enough to keep Philip quiet, but the -balance—God knows what he does with it, though I guess it is for -transmission to Italy or to Spain, to make him equal in wealth to many -a king.” - -“By St. George, if I could get my hands on it,” answers the Englishman, -the instinct of the sea rover coming up in him. “That would be a -fitting dower for his fair daughter.” - -“As far as my information goes,” says Oliver, “no living man has put -his eyes on where he keeps this treasure, though I have a suspicion. -The great statue that he is erecting, the one that will be undraped -next week, in the enceinte of the Citadel here, has something peculiar -in its dimensions. Its pedestal is enormous. The workmen employed upon -its base have been brought from Italy, and are under the direct -personal supervision of Paciotto, his engineer. These having finished -the pedestal, have all been reshipped, bountifully rewarded, to their -native country. Not one has been permitted to remain in the -Netherlands. There’s a secret in that statue!” - -Further consideration of this is suddenly broken in upon by the -entrance of the ex-burgomaster and his daughter. The old gentleman -seems pleased. - -“You’ll stay and sup with me, gentlemen, I hope,” he remarks. “I am -happy to announce that my daughter Mina has been an obedient little -girl this afternoon, and sold goods for me in my shop—four hundred -guilders worth, to the Countess de Pariza, two hundred paid in cash, -something that never happened to me before in my dealings with the -nobility. But then,” he chucks Mina under the chin, “my little girl is -a very sharp business woman. Some day she’ll be as valuable as her poor -mother was.” - -“Father,” says the young lady, taking advantage of the circumstances, -“can I go to the Duchess of Aerschot’s?” - -“Humph! Well, you’re young, you shall be happy; but don’t keep the -horses out all night; you know I use them in the goods van in the -morning. Gentlemen, remain, and I’ll show you my little girl is not -only a good saleswoman, but a cook and housewife.” - -“Father!” ejaculates the young lady very sternly, “Remember that we -have a Frenchman-cook in the house!” - -But Guy does not stay to test the cuisine of the Bodé Volcker mansion. -Having had his tête-à-tête with brunette, he gives Oliver a chance of -interview with blonde, and goes off to the Painted Inn, where Antony -promises to join him early in the evening. - -It is now dark, and seating himself in the wine room, which is -illuminated by oil lamps and flickering candles, the Englishman orders -a bounteous supper, knowing that he may be up all the night returning -to his ship. Success has given him appetite, though he scarce knows -what he is eating, for his whole meal is a succession of recollections, -each one a rapture. These rhapsodies are suddenly and disagreeably -broken in upon. - -A man, apparently from his dress and demeanor the captain of some -trading vessel, strides into the room followed by a burgher, and with a -muttered oath slaps himself into a chair at the table next to Chester. -“Voor den duivel!” he growls, “not permitted to pass the city gates to -go to my own ship. What’ll become of my cargo, half landed. The mate -and drunken crew will be having a fine time!” - -“Calm yourself, Captain,” says his consignee in soothing tone. “The -regulation is very unusual. You will doubtless be permitted to pass -through the gates to the quay at daylight.” - -“Yes, giving me the expense of a berth at an inn, and my comfortable -cabin unoccupied. Another guilder wrung out of me in this port of -Antwerp. If this thing goes on, the commerce of this place will be -damned forever.” - -“But it will probably never occur again,” says the merchant. “Such a -thing has not been heard of before for a year.” And the two go into -conversation discussing the why’s and wherefore’s of this unusual -vigilance at the gates. - -Guy gets to meditating upon this also. He had noticed before, during -the early part of his meal, this same captain, apparently the guest of -the same merchant at supper at one of the tables. Half an hour before -this they had gone out; they have now returned, the captain having -evidently been unable to pass the guards. If such orders have been -issued the word of the night is probably useless. What can have caused -it? Can it be some suspicion of his presence in the town? - -Even as he meditates, Oliver enters, a very serious look on his face. -Stepping up to Guy’s table he seats himself by him and whispers: “Come -with me.” - -“Why?” This is a whisper also. - -“Orders have been given for nobody to pass out of the gates of Antwerp -to-night.” - -“The reason?” - -“I don’t know, unless they suspect your presence in the town. Come to -my lodgings with me.” - -“No, I shall remain here,” replies the Englishman firmly. - -“Why?” - -“For two reasons. First, I won’t put further jeopardy upon you. Second, -if orders are given for no one to pass the gates, I expect they will -very shortly come to the quick ears of a young lady who is interested -in one Major Guido Amati de Medina, an officer of Romero’s foot, absent -from his post without leave. Incidentally to-day I mentioned to her -that I stopped at the Painted Inn. This is the place where she would -send to find me. But don’t stay with me, Oliver. My seizure in your -company might bring suspicion on you—sit at another table!” - -“I won’t leave you, when perchance I can aid you,” says the generous -artist. Then he mutters suddenly: “By heaven, perhaps it has come now!” - -And it has, though not as Antony fears, for little Ensign de Busaco, -swinging through the door, takes one glance about the room and strides -up to the Englishman. - -“I want you,” he says, while Guy’s hand quietly seeks the dirk in his -bosom. “I want you to take one of the state barges down to Sandvliet -to-night.” - -“Ah!” - -“Yes, I was unable to obtain leave to remain out of barracks to-night -at the provost marshal’s office, and went to the Citadel to get it. -While there I was summoned to Doña de Alva. She remarked to me that -Captain Amati, who had brought her barge up so successfully last night, -was just the man to take it down this evening. It goes on some errand -of the young lady. She charged me to give this note to you, and to -conduct you through the Citadel to the place of landing the night -before, where the rowers and a new crew will be ready—I believe the -Beggars of the Sea killed the last.” - -With this he presents a sealed letter to the Englishman in the -handwriting that he loves. - -Breaking the seal of Alva, Guy hastily reads: - - - My Dearest Guido. - - I can’t help calling you that. It is, perhaps, rash, but that is - how I think of you. - - It is just now known to me that the gates of the city are closed to - egress to-night, information of some daring pirate or outlaw being - concealed in Antwerp having reached headquarters. Knowing the - necessity of an officer absent without leave reaching Middelburg - before his commission, I am despatching my galley to my country - house at Sandvliet to bring up some articles left behind in the - hasty retreat of last night. Will you not be kind enough to steer - the boat down the Schelde as successfully as you steered it up? - - Ensign de Busaco will pass you through the Citadel. - - Praying that God will watch over you and bring you back to me with - as much love in your heart as I have for you in mine, I am, as I - ever shall be, your - - Hermoine. - - -“You look happy,” laughs De Busaco, “at an order for a long night boat -journey?” - -“I am always at the orders of Doña de Alva,” remarks Guy. “Come!” - -“Quick,” replies the little Ensign. “I’ve got my leave to stay out of -barracks this night. The sooner we get through with this the sooner I -am free for my affair.” - -So, Guy hastily settling his score, the three leave the Painted Inn and -making their way to Beguin street, stride rapidly along that -thoroughfare to the Esplanade, where Oliver, in low tones, and with -hearty grasp, says: “Good-bye.” - -“God bless you!” mutters Guy. - -And though they speak it not, as their hands clasp they mean friendship -and brotherhood. - -A few minutes after Chester and De Busaco are at the Citadel, where, -passing over the drawbridge and through the great gateway, Guy learns -that the word of the night has been changed and is now “San Sebastian,” -countersign “Corpus Christi.” - -From here they pass through the enceinte right by the statue of Alva, -De Busaco remarking parenthetically: “They’ve got his arm up to-day. -They’ll be all ready to show him off next week. Caramba! that means the -trouble of a dress parade. And no pay day yet. Some day we may dig out -our arrears from this hollow pedestal. Alva is cunning, but his troops -have their eyes open also!” - -Going across this great fortification, they come out at the little -sally-port in the moat where Guy had landed the night before. Here they -have no difficulty of exit. The same galley that the Englishman brought -up is waiting for them; the rowers in place with a new crew, to whom De -Busaco introduces him as the officer who will take charge of the boat -to Sandvliet; then goes on his way with a hasty “Adios, Señor!” for the -little ensign is behind in his appointment with some young lady of the -city. - -Just as the boat is casting off, for Guy does not waste much time about -this matter, a waiting maid, one of the Moorish handmaidens of the -night before, comes running over the little drawbridge crying: -“Stay!—one moment—stay!” - -Then, as Guy stands up in the barge, she whispers to him, holding out a -belt of heavy leather: “Buckle this round your waist, Señor Capitan, my -mistress charges me to tell you to be careful of it. It is the one you -left in the boat so carelessly last night.” - -“Oh—ah, yes,” says the Englishman, to whom lies this day have become -easy. “I was looking for it. I didn’t know where I’d left it,” and -buckling it about him, wonders what the deuce is in it. - -“Egad, it’s not a life preserver,” he thinks. “It would send me to the -bottom like a shot.” - -Anyway, whatever it is, he is enraptured to get it from the hands of -Hermoine de Alva. - -But he has not much time to think of this; he has called to the rowers -and the boat is now under way and gliding through the moat that -surrounds the great bastions of the Spaniard. - -Five minutes after they are in the open river, and, though the tide is -against them, they are en route toward Sandvliet and safety. Keeping -well across by the further bank of the river they pass unchallenged, -though Guy can see the lights of several guard and patrol boats moving -among the shipping on the city’s edge. - -“Give way, my lads,” cries the Englishman enthusiastically, “and I’ll -stand a cask of wine when we reach Sandvliet.” - -Thus adjured the men bend to their oars, while the cockswain of the -barge gets into quite friendly chat with Chester, telling him that this -place they are going to is a beautiful summer chateau used sometimes by -Alva himself, but mostly by his daughter, to enjoy the fresh sea -breezes blowing up the Schelde estuary during the hot months of summer. - -“We came down very early this year,” he says, “the weather was so -pleasant. Fortunately I was in Antwerp last night, otherwise I would -have been done to death with poor Antonio and the rest by those -murdering Beggars of the Sea.” - -The conversation of this man whiles away the time, and in three hours, -the wind aiding them a little, they are off the Fort of Lillo. - -Here four guard boats are on duty, one of them stopping their barge. As -the Costa Guarda comes alongside, her commander recognizing a state -barge of Alva, and Guy giving him the new words of the night, which -have apparently been sent hurriedly down to Lillo, the captain of the -boat wishes Chester God-speed, remarking: “Take care of yourself. It is -reported that the First of the English is somewhere down below. Two -galleys, the Santa Cruz and the Holy Trinity, go down to see if they -can capture this pirate to-morrow morning.” - -“Thank you for the information,” replies Guy, as his boat dashes on its -way. - -At the last dyke left standing by the flood below Fort Lillo, Guy sees -three lanterns displayed in line and knows his boat is awaiting him. He -suddenly says: “I’ve piloted you through the worst of the journey. You -are now within a mile of the country place. What is it named?” - -“Bella Vista,” replies the cockswain. - -“Very well, take the galley to Bella Vista and perform the errand you -are charged with. Here’s two doubloons for the wine I promised you and -the crew. Land me upon the dyke. A boat is awaiting me there. I am -going duck shooting on the Drowned Lands; if my men row fast enough I -shall get there for the morning flight. I have arquebuses and a cross -bow in my skiff.” - -The two doubloons making the men very happy, they quickly land Guy upon -the dyke and depart on their way. - -A few minutes after the Englishman, getting to the three lanterns, -waves them. - -Continuing this some little time, the splash of oars is heard, and a -boat comes very cautiously through the darkness, feeling its way up to -the land, apparently fearing ambuscade. - -“Ahoy!” shouts Guy. - -Then he hears Martin Corker cry: “Give way, lads! That’s the captain’s -voice,” and with three or four sturdy strokes the boat glides up to the -dyke. - -A moment after Chester, pulled by English arms, is driving as fast as -oars can take him towards the Dover Lass. The little ship is difficult -to discover, as she has no lights out; but the boat, giving flash -signals, the vessel hangs up a lantern to show them where to find her. - -Upon his deck Chester receives report from his first officer: - -“I’m glad you’re here,” says Dalton. “We would have been attacked -to-morrow, I think. I am sure a patrol boat came down the river to see -if they could discover us.” - -“We’ll not be attacked to-morrow,” laughs Guy, and taking speaking -trumpet, he gives orders to break ground with the anchor and to hoist -the head sails. - -“You’re not going to fight the Spaniards?” - -“No, run away to England. I have such an important communication for my -Queen it would be treason if I risked losing it.” - -Then, his vessel being handy, and his crew numerous, the Dover Lass is -very quickly under way, driving down the Schelde for the open ocean. - -And in the cabin is Guy Stanhope Chester, securing under lock and key -the spoils of this strange trip to Antwerp. - -These are: a package of letters in cipher touching the assassination of -Elizabeth of England, and the key by which to read them; a ruby ring -that tells him he has won the love of the Viceroy’s daughter, and two -letters in her handwriting. - -“Egad, I’ve done pretty well,” thinks Guy. Then he looks at the -miniature he has carried with him for over three years and mutters: -“Marvelous that I at last should find and win her. Who says romance -died with the troubadours? Egad, I feel like a troubadour myself. -Ta-la-la!”—and taking troubadour step, he suddenly mutters: “Gadzooks! -I have also something else,” for the heavy belt about his waist reminds -him of the last thing Doña de Alva has sent to him. - -Inspecting it he finds it is really a strong leather bag, made to -buckle on securely. - -Opening it he growls: “Pish!” for it is laden with golden doubloons, -but a moment after pounces on a little packet that he has swept out -with the coin. Then he suddenly laughs: “Egad! She didn’t know I had -one of her before,” for another miniature of his fair Castilian -sweetheart greets his devouring eyes. A little note is folded up with -the portrait. It reads: - - - “Dearest: - - “I have taken the liberty of sending you my face to help you - remember it. It is not the living image for you to carry with you; - God knows I wish it were. But some day when Major Guido Amati de - Medina becomes a General, I’ll make it the real one—oh God! what - happiness! - - “I have taken the liberty of enclosing with this a hundred golden - doubloons. The officers in the Middelburg garrison have not been - paid for over a year, and I would wish a gentleman who is one day - to wed the daughter of Alva to live in suitable style, appointment - and equipage. If you hesitate to accept this I shall not think you - love me as I want you to. It is but a little first payment in - advance on the dower of - - “Your future spouse, - “Hermoine de Alva.” - - -“My future spouse she shall be,” cries Guy. Then in that wildness -passion brings to young hearts he puts the two miniatures of the -exquisite beauty who has just signed herself his future wife before -him, and chuckles: “Behold my old love—the unfindable that I have -found! See my new sweetheart, the ungainable, that, by heaven! I will -win and wear as my wife, though she be the daughter of Alva, mine -enemy.” - - - - - - - - - - -BOOK II. - -TWIXT LOVE AND WAR. - - -CHAPTER IX. - -“NO PROVISIONS, NO WATER, BUT PLENTY OF POWDER!” - - -On the morning of the second day after this, Chester lands at Sandwich, -and by relays of horses travels as fast as is in man and beast to -London. - -Arriving at the capital, he learns that his sovereign and her court are -at Hampton, and to his joy discovers from popular tongue that the Queen -is enjoying the best of health. He is in time to prevent any attempt at -Borgia business with the hope of the realm. - -For at that time all true Englishmen, Catholics or Protestants, feared -that by some underhand, insidious Italian plot, Elizabeth of England -was in some way to be done to death and the kingdom given to her -legitimate successor to the throne, Mary Queen of Scots, who was a -prisoner in Elizabeth’s hands; one ambitious noble of Catholic faith, -the Duke of Norfolk, being not only anxious to liberate the beautiful -Mary and put her on the throne of England, but also to marry her and -reign as Prince Consort. This would have placed Britain thoroughly -under the influence of Philip II., of Spain, and have opened the way -for his pet scheme, the establishing of the Inquisition in England, -with all its horrors of burnings, flayings, and torturings as practiced -in the Netherlands under similar circumstances by Alva, his Viceroy and -lieutenant. - -Better Englishman than bigot, Guy Chester, though a moderate Catholic, -is exceedingly anxious for the safety of his Protestant Queen. - -All this makes Guy in desperate haste to give her warning of her danger -at the hands of Ridolfi, Alva’s agent in London. - -So, taking horse again, though thoroughly tired by his long ride from -Sandwich, the young Englishman finds himself in the early evening at -the palace of Hampton Court. There getting quick audience with Cecil, -Lord Burleigh, he gives him the cipher letters from Vitelli to Ridolfi, -and also the key furnished by Oliver. - -Upon Guy’s hastily mentioning the purport of these letters, his -lordship, with a very serious face, says: “You have done a great -service to the State. But I imagine you have been riding all day. I -will see that you have supper and refreshment,” and summoning a lackey, -gives order to this effect. “By the time you have finished making -yourself comfortable, I and my under-secretary will have translated and -transcribed these letters for the Queen’s private eye. These you shall -present in person to your sovereign, as is your right.” - -This arrangement is very satisfactory to the young man, who has been in -the saddle twelve hours and has partaken of but hasty refreshment on -the road. - -So an hour afterward Guy, his body made comfortable with food and his -spirits heightened by wine, accompanies Lord Burleigh, who now holds -England in his grasp, having the favor and confidence of his sovereign, -to Queen Elizabeth’s waiting room, where they are received in rather -off-hand style by Her Majesty of England, who is in great fashion of -jeweled stomacher, above which her white shoulders glitter with -necklace of pearls and diamonds. Very vain, as she has a right to be, -as daughter of Anne Boleyn, the beauty of her father’s court, she -stands in kirtle and long train covered with aglets inlaid with -precious stones and high-heeled Spanish shoes, making a great show of -vanity, sprightliness, dignity and domination. In short, she is good -Queen Bess, at her best and bravest—at thirty-five—at her zenith—before -age gets the better of her beauty and her temper. - -“My good Burleigh,” she says, “what a hasty man you are. I have but -just received your communication saying time was important, and have -omitted five courses of my supper and sent my tiring women where their -prying ears will not catch private conference. And you, Master Chester, -my robber of the sea, have you discovered another eight hundred -thousand crowns of Alva’s money within my jurisdiction and government?” - -“No,” answers Burleigh, as the two bow before her, “Master Chester has -simply discovered a plot of my Lord of Alva against your life. These -letters from Vitelli, his maréchal de camp and confidant to Ridolfi, -the Italian banker of London, prove it.” - -“Oho! in cipher,” says the Queen, looking at them. - -“Yes, but thanks to Master Chester’s being willing to risk his life for -Your Majesty again, he has obtained the cipher in Antwerp. These -letters are now transcribed into English.” - -“Quick—let me see!” And Elizabeth, sitting down and hastily glancing -them through, cries out: “So they would poison me, and put that traitor -Norfolk on the throne as consort to the lady whom I hold in my hand. -That settles Norfolk! He was yesterday condemned for high treason by -the Lords. These letters, my Burleigh, are his death warrant. With the -lady I’ll reckon afterwards, and as for Ridolfi—” - -“Orders have already been given to have Ridolfi seized, Your Majesty,” -interjects Burleigh. - -“Very well,” replies Elizabeth, “then there is nothing more to do for -the present, though I shall change my cook; except”—here Her Majesty’s -eyes light up—“except to reward this young gentleman whom we have -outlawed for matters of State policy: but then, we love pirates! There -is our Francis Drake, who thinks no more of despoiling a Spaniard and -turning in ten per cent. of his booty than he does of eating and -drinking. There’s old John Hawkins, who’ll steal blackamoors on the -coast of Africa to sell them to the Dons and cut their throats while -trading with them—all for the glory of England! In fact, I think, -Burleigh, pirates are my best subjects. But since I have dismissed my -own mummers this evening on your account Master Chester, I ought to -have some compensation. Tell me the tale of your adventures in the -Netherlands.” - -This Guy doing, Her Majesty listens with open ears and one or two -little chuckles and slaps with her fan upon Burleigh, though at the -mention of Doña de Alva they give earnest attention, especially at that -portion of Chester’s story which refers to his various interviews with -that young lady. And Guy, getting warmed up to his subject, his eyes -brighten once or twice in mentioning the beauty of the girl. - -“Odds bodkins!” cries Elizabeth, as he closes. “This is a story as -romantic as the troubadours tell of Amadis de Gaul saving maidens from -giants, as you did Miss Minx of Alva from the Sea Beggars. Egad, I’m -afraid she has disturbed his loyalty, my Burleigh. When speaking of his -Spanish wench, Master Chester looks at his sovereign of England in a -manner that the Lords might condemn as high treason.” - -“Ah, Your Gracious Majesty,” replies Guy, who is courtier as well as -pirate, “if love is high treason, then every young man who gazes upon -his sovereign of England is a traitor.” - -His ardent glance emphasizes his speech, which is easy, as Elizabeth is -in the zenith of her beauty—a beauty that is hardly understood now, -most of her portraits having been taken when she was fifty and upward. -But as Chester looks at her she is only thirty-five. - -“And I will punish this audacious gallant,” she says, laughing, “though -he is no traitor. Give me your sword, Guy Chester.” - -The young man is about to unbuckle the weapon. - -“No, naked, as you use it on my enemies!” - -Drawing it from the scabbard and sinking on one knee, Guy, a sudden -hope of unexpected glory coming to him, hands it to his sovereign. - -“He is of good birth, Burleigh, I hear?” - -“Your Majesty,” says Cecil, bowing, “on his mother’s side he has the -blood of Lord Stanhope of Harrington. His father is cousin to the -Stanleys and High Sheriff of Cheshire. His grandfather was belted -knight.” - -“Then,” says the Queen of England, “he shall be knight also!” And -administers with dainty hand the accolade, saying: “Rise up, Sir Guy -Chester!” - -But Sir Guy does not rise before he does homage to the fair hand that -has knighted him so gallantly that Her Majesty gets red in the face, -and cries out: “What new science in hand kissing has this Spanish girl -taught him?” - -Next the young man standing before her she tenders him his sword, -holding it by the naked blade, the handle toward his hand, saying: “May -you as belted knight use this as you have before to the terror of the -enemies of England; especially he of Alva—do not spare him for his -daughter’s sake.” - -“No,” returns Guy, “for every blow I strike against the father brings -me nearer to the daughter.” - -“Odd stale fish!” jeers Her Majesty, “what does this new made popinjay -of Chester think to do with the daughter of a prince?” - -“To marry her, by God’s will and Your Majesty’s most gracious -permission,” cries Guy, and retires with Lord Burleigh, leaving the -Queen of England in very good humor with her new knight. - -But notwithstanding Chester’s information has, perchance, saved the -life of his Queen, Elizabeth, great sovereign as she is, has a strange -parsimony in affairs of State, and though Guy petitions for money to -refit his vessel and pay his crew, it does not come. So, being -desperately anxious to get to the Netherlands again, he uses the -hundred doubloons, the present from his sweetheart, to fit up his -vessel against her father, devoting half of them to the embellishment -and ornament of the cabins of the Dover Lass, making her staterooms so -fine in woodwork and appointments that Harry Dalton, his first -lieutenant, ejaculates: “By saucy Poll of Plymouth, one would think he -meant this for a wedding cruise!” - -But despite the hundred doubloons Chester soon finds himself without -money sufficient to provision and make his vessel thoroughly effective, -and goes up to London from Sandwich to make a final appeal to his -parsimonious sovereign. - -Expecting to do this through Burleigh, who possesses more than any one -the royal ear, and who has always stood his friend, Chester is shown -into his Lordship’s private cabinet one afternoon late in March, to -find that nobleman in a brown study. - -“You’re just the man I wish to see, Sir Guy,” he remarks. “Tell me all -about the Gueux, these Sea Beggars of the Netherlands.” - -“That, my lord, I can do in very few words,” replies Chester. “They are -men of all classes from Brabant, Flanders, Friesland, -Holland—everywhere that Alva rules, driven by cruelty and persecution -to take to the sea, for to live on the land means execution by fire, -with torture additional. They have been outlawed on account of their -resistance to Spanish tyranny. In it are men high in the councils of -the Prince of Orange, who has attempted to regulate them by granting -commissions, one of which I have the honor to hold, and the medal -accompanying it I wear,” and he exhibits his badge of the Gueux to Lord -Burleigh. “In it are all those driven from land to ship, from the -Chevalier Van Tresslong and William de la Mark, the Lord of Lumey to -Dirk Duyvel, whose name proclaims him a free and easy pirate. But why -do you ask me about the Gueux?” - -“For this reason. Twenty-five vessels manned by them are now in the -harbor of Dover. They appeal to us for protection, provisions, water. -Van Tresslong, and their admiral, De la Mark, are in London to ask -assistance. We are nominally at peace with Spain and Alva, but I don’t -like to refuse them hospitality.” - -“Twenty-five sail—’tis a fleet! You must refuse them hospitality,” -returns Guy. - -“Why?” - -“Please let me explain this to the Queen. Take me to her; I must have -money for my ship.” - -“Which I’m afraid Her Majesty will not grant very readily. She’s had a -dozen new dresses this month—millinery bills in the female mind have -the preference over naval equipment,” laughs Cecil; but orders his -carriage. - -So the two proceed to Westminster, where the Queen has summoned -Burleigh, to obtain his advice before receiving the envoys of the -Gueux. - -“Zounds!” cries Her Majesty, “My Lord of Burleigh, I see you have -brought another Gueux with you. Is he their ambassador also?” With this -she looks at Guy frowningly, for the Gueux have bothered Queen -Elizabeth’s mind for the last day or two. They are hungry people, and -she does not care particularly about feeding them; they are thirsty -people, and she does not desire to diminish her exchequer to buy drink -for them; but they are enemies of Alva, and she would like to succor -them. - -“No, Your Majesty,” replies Guy with sudden inspiration, “I do not -appeal for succor for the Gueux. Don’t give them any!” - -“Why not?” asks Queen Elizabeth, who is unaccustomed to being advised -so freely outside of her Privy Council. - -“For these reasons: If you give them provisions and drink, they will -stay here, and be your guests and pensioners as long as your -hospitality holds out.” - -“Out on the lazy rascals they would eat me out of castle and kingdom,” -grumbles Her Majesty. - -“Twenty-five vessels are a fleet. They have left the Netherlands, that -leaves Alva’s hands so much more free to deal with you.” - -“Then you would refuse them food?” - -“Yes,” replies Guy. “Not a barrel of provisions.” - -“But they have no water.” - -“Not a barrel of water. Provision them and water their ships, and, -though they be ordered from England, they will not go back to the -Netherlands. The Spanish Main, where booty is thick for bold hands like -theirs, will perchance be more to their liking than Alva’s hard knocks. -Give them nothing but powder and ball. Then they must sail to near-by -port. They dare not go to France, they must go back straight at Alva’s -throat, and twenty-five vessels of them are a power that may change the -whole course of military events. They have been weak before because -they were never banded together. Now there is unity. Give them powder, -Your Majesty, give them powder and ball for him of Alva!” - -“Ho! ho! Make ’em fight for their dinners! Gadzooks!” cries Her -Majesty. “My Sir Guy Chester, uses not only his sword, but his head. -What say you, Burleigh?” - -“Say?” replies the English statesman, who is great enough and generous -enough to admit the wisdom of another, “I say he has given you the -wisest advice you have ever received. You make the Spanish ambassador -happy by telling him you will refuse admission or succor to the Gueux, -and by doing so you send a thunderbolt straight at Alva and Spain, -stronger than you could unless you waged open war with England’s powers -at land and sea, for which we are not ready—” - -“But it will come in good time, my lord,” remarks Elizabeth. Then -summoning a page, she says: “Give order for the two envoys of the Gueux -to enter.” - -Then Van Tresslong and De la Mark enter to receive what they think is -their despair, but in time will be their glory. - -Her Majesty of England, standing upon a dais, receives very haughtily -the two adventurers, whose doublets are shabby with hard usage, but -whose swords are long, and whose gaunt faces give evidence of poverty -and half rations. - -“You are here, gentlemen,” she says, “to petition me—for what?” - -“Provisions to keep us from starving,” answers the admiral. - -“No provisions!” - -“Good heavens! In the name of charity. We had supposed you enemy of -Alva.” - -“I am the friend of Alva. No provisions! What else?” - -“And water—we have only three days’ water in our vessels. Permit us at -least that which humanity never refused to thirsty sailor—water!” - -“No water! Dare to land to take water from running stream or lake and I -make war upon you!” - -“And this is a Christian country?” - -“Yes, Christian enough to keep its obligations and faith with Spain, a -friendly power. If within twenty-four hours you have not sailed from -our port of Dover our batteries and castle open upon you with bombard -and culverin.” - -“And drive us away without water, without food, upon the open ocean?” - -“YES!” - -“Then, Your Majesty,” says Van Tresslong, “God forgive your inhumanity. -We have given up for our religion, which is yours; for our country that -you have professed to love, everything we have on earth—save our lives. -When the time comes we will give up them also. It must now be our -lives. We must go back to death grip with Alva!” - -“Heaven help us,” sighs the admiral. “We have not even powder to fight -with!” and the two, bowing together, retire in despair from the -presence of England’s sovereign. - -She makes one step as if to stay them, then cries harshly: “God forgive -me! I shall be called an inhuman woman. I shall dream of these poor, -starving Gueux to-night. But they shall not go back without ball and -powder!” With this she says to Chester: “Has your vessel sailed?” - -“No, Your Majesty.” - -“Then you shall go also. Here are orders for you to have all the -powder, arms, ball and ammunition you can carry. Take them. Sail from -the port of Sandwich to-night. Meet the Gueux fleet off Dover. Arm -them; ammunition them, give them plenty to fight with.” - -“But, Your Majesty,” replies Guy, who now knows he will win what he -wants, “I have no money to pay my crew.” - -“Here is an order on my treasury for twenty thousand crowns.” And -Elizabeth, sitting down to write, says suddenly: “But your crew is only -one hundred and twenty-five men. Fifteen thousand crowns will keep your -surly dogs from growling,” and signs order to that effect, next almost -tears it up, muttering: “I think ten thousand will be sufficient.” - -“No, Your Majesty, it will not, and the expedition will be cheap at -fifteen thousand crowns, for by it you will set a band of cut-throats -on Alva, who, while they may curse your inhumanity, will fight far -better than your belted knights, for they will be fighting, not for -country now, not for religion now, but for that thing that dominates -all men’s souls—EXISTENCE! Besides, they do it free of charge!” - -“Egad, we have an orator here, Cecil,” laughs Her Majesty. “A regular -sea lawyer. Some day, perchance, he may be—under-secretary of state, -eh, Lord Burleigh?” - -“Perchance, Your Majesty. You have had many of them with less brains.” - -“And less jabber,” replies Elizabeth, who cannot forget that she has -fifteen thousand crowns less in her treasury. “He talked me out of the -money, he took advantage of my weakness, Lord Burleigh. Take him away -from here before I take the treasury order back. But go after those two -poor Gueux nobles, have them to dinner with you. Show them you have a -heart if your Queen has not.” Then the two go out from the presence of -Elizabeth of England, Guy stepping quite rapidly. He fears Her Majesty -may rescind the draft on her exchequer. - -Burleigh accompanies him to the treasury, apparently nervous himself -about this matter. But the money being paid over, he says to Guy: “Her -Majesty said to see these Gueux well armed and well ammunitioned. Will -your vessel carry enough?” - -“For a campaign?—No!” - -“Then,” says Burleigh, “here is my order, Sir Guy Chester. Take with -you four ships, fill them up with powder, arms and munitions of war, -for which I will give you royal warrant on the Queen’s arsenal at -Sandwich, Harwich, or any other to which you may apply. This is not -merely an engagement for which we send these men, but a war, long and -continued, against Alva; for it is now his head or those of the -starving Beggars of the Sea. Here is also warrant permitting you if -satisfactory charter cannot be obtained, to take the vessels you need -for our purpose. But of course all this is private and privileged -between us. England is at peace with Spain. So, God speed you.” - -So Guy, going upon his errand with all the expedition he can command, -obtains possession of four large caravals in the port of Sandwich, and -loads them to the gunwale with all the arms and munitions of war he can -obtain, powder enough for many a battle and many a siege, and taking -these with him sails on the morning of the next day through the Downs -and lies off and on between the Goodwin Sands and Coast of France. Here -the Gueux, coming out of Dover, can’t very well miss him, and he is -very shortly overhauled and apparently captured by these desperate -gentry of the sea. - -“Elizabeth of England would not give you provisions, but here are arms -and ammunition with which to take them from Alva,” Chester laughs, as -Tresslong’s vessel ranges alongside of the Dover Lass. - -And understanding this very well, the Gueux loot the four captured -vessels in great style, leaving him of the Dover Lass hardly enough -powder to defend her with, which causes Guy to put very hastily into -Dover for ammunition for himself. - -Word of this being brought to Queen Elizabeth she cries out very -savagely to her counsellor, Lord Burleigh: “Gadzooks, man, you have -ruined my kingdom. You’ve robbed my arsenal at Sandwich of munitions -sufficient to defend the realm of England. Thou art a vile traitor!” - -“Under favor, my liege,” remarks Cecil, “you said to munition and arm -the Gueux well and thoroughly. I have done so. The more powder I give -them, the more ball I give them, the harder it will be for your friend -of Alva.” - -“Very well,” answers Her Majesty, “this I forgive you if you gave a -good wholesome dinner and plenty of strong wine to those poor famishing -officers of the Gueux, Van Tresslong and Lord de la Mark.” - -“Your Majesty’s orders in that respect were obeyed also,” replies -Burleigh. “They had every delicacy of the season and wine of finest -vintage. Oho! I can see them eat now. No such assault was ever made on -provender and wassail since the time of giant Glutton himself. Your -Majesty will know how they ate by the bill that is already with your -treasurer.” - -“The bill with my treasurer!” screams Elizabeth. “Out upon you for a -miserable, thieving knave! Burleigh, you’re robbing me; robbing your -sovereign, you vile caitiff traitor—and my gear women and millinery -scores still due and unpaid. Look to your weazened head if the Gueux -win not victory over Alva!” - -And with these words the Queen of England strides from the room in -anger and dismay. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -THE SECRET OF THE STATUE. - - -This matter of ammunition delays Guy in England several days. But the -fleet little Dover Lass soon makes the trip to the Netherlands, -carrying every inch of canvas she can show, and early in April Chester -finds himself once more off the mouth of the Schelde, and sighting the -town of Flushing is astounded but delighted to see the yellow, white -and blue flag of Orange floating over the place. - -“Zounds!” he cries to his first lieutenant, “the Gueux have landed and -taken Flushing! There are two vessels sailing in with the flag of -Orange at their peaks. Overhaul them and get me the news, Dalton.” - -In the course of half an hour the Dover Lass comes alongside the -vessels that are commanded by Captain De Ryk of Amsterdam. From him he -learns that the Gueux have not only taken Flushing, but have taken -Briel, a strongly fortified town upon the island of Voorne, where the -Rhine estuary reaches the German ocean. Their success has been the -spark to illuminate the patriotism of Holland and the Netherlands. Town -after town is declaring for the Prince of Orange as the Staatholder of -Philip Second, and against Alva, for curiously enough, such was the -respect with which royalty was regarded at that time that Orange still -announced himself as the vassal of the Spanish crown, though fighting -against its sovereign with all his might of arm and strength of brain. - -Curiously enough also the two vessels of De Ryk, having left England -somewhat later than the rest of the Gueux, have on board five hundred -stout English volunteers, who greet Guy with shouts of Saxon welcome. -For Burleigh, pondering upon Elizabeth’s remarks, is anxious for his -weazened head, and is now giving every aid in his power to this raid of -the Beggars of the Sea. - -So the Dover Lass and the two Gueux ships are wafted by light breezes -toward Flushing quay. Just as they make landing there, a great -commotion arises in the town. Some quarter of an hour before this they -have noted a small pinnace with single mast and lateen sail headed from -the south, Antwerp-way, pass to the dock before them. From this three -gentlemen in very fine clothes and with Spanish appearance have landed -laughingly, and strolled up into the town. - -Even as De Ryk and Chester step upon the quay, these three come running -hurriedly from out the center of the place toward the dock, pursued by -such a motley mob as quiet Flushing never saw before. It is as if two -hundred priests and nuns, drunk with blood, were after them, for all -these monks and nuns are brawny pirates, some having hassocks and cowls -upon them, others wearing the robes of nuns. Their leader, fierce Dirk -Duyvel himself, is habited as lady abbess, and all are armed to the -teeth with pistol and pike or sword and arquebus. - -“Down with the murderous Spanish!” cry some. “Hang them up on high, -quick!” yell others. “Into the sea with Alva’s butchers!” is the shout -of the rest, all this larded with fearful imprecations and terrible -Dutch oaths. - -Seeing their retreat to their boat cut off by De Ryk’s men, the leader -of these three Spaniards comes speeding ahead of his foremost pursuers, -and bowing before De Ryk takes off from his finger a gaudy signet ring, -and presenting it to the Gueux captain, pants: “I—I surrender to you. -I—I did not know this town was in possession of the—the rebels. By this -ring guard me from sudden death. I am noble. I can pay a large ransom. -I am Alva’s engineer.” He says this anxiously and breathlessly, for the -crowd are upon him. - -Guy now recognizes him with astonishment, as Paciotto, Alva’s great -military engineer, whom he had seen at the Captain General’s side in -Antwerp. - -“You know me?” Paciotto gasps. - -“Too well!” cries the throng, who now have hands on him. - -“Too well!” mutters De Ryk, “But I’ll save you from immediate -damnation,” and he and Guy and one or two of his officers with drawn -swords protect these three men, who in another minute would have been -hacked to pieces by the Beggars of the Sea. For these sea rovers, -having drunk victory at the Briel, are now drunk with blood also, -having requited in kind upon the Spaniard some of the butcheries of the -last five years—one or two of the most ferocious eating Castilian heart -with gusto and drinking Italian blood con amore. Every one of them has -some butchered brother or murdered father or outraged wife to make him -as inhuman as his foes. What chance has any officer of Alva’s with such -a mob? Guy soon finds Paciotto has not even choice of his manner of -death. - -While De Ryk and he save the Italian from immediate violence a number -of the Gueux have boarded the little Spanish sloop in which he came and -butchered the hapless crew with wild shouts of joy and triumph. - -A moment after the Italian is dragged to the Raadhuis where Van -Tresslong, who commands, is in consultation with the Burgomaster, -“Schout” and other officials of the town; most of his captains being -with him. - -“By our martyrs,” cries the Dutch vice-admiral, “this day is fortunate. -Here is one of Alva’s very pets right in our hands—a court-martial for -the Italian gentleman!” - -“I beg for law of war, William de Blois, Lord of Tresslong,” says -Paciotto, quite haughtily, though hope has left his face. - -“The same law of war that Alva gave to my murdered brother, when he -executed him with seventeen other nobles in the Brussels horse market,” -answers the Fleming. - -“Yes, justice and mercy,” jeers one of his captains. “The same justice -that Alva gave to my father when he cried for quarter at Jemmingen. The -same mercy that De Bossu, but two days since, gave at Rotterdam.” - -“With such judges I am condemned beforehand,” sighs the Italian, as Van -Tresslong and his officers take seats about a drum head. - -Then as the court is being sworn the Dutch Vice-Admiral, who has a long -head, remarks: “We must make the Burgomaster one of our court. That -will nail him to our cause. He will hold Flushing, as he values his own -head, against Alva.” - -So the Burgomaster, nolens volens, is made a member of the court, and -Paciotto is put upon trial for his life. - -“Of what do you accuse me?” asks the unfortunate officer. “Of being a -loyal subject of your king, Philip of Spain? Of that I plead guilty.” - -“Bah!” replies Van Tresslong, “you’re the pet and confidant of Alva, -who butchers us. That’s why we’ll have your life. Also, with your -Italian engineering art you built for him his stronghold, the citadel -of Antwerp.” - -“If that deserves death, then execute me,” murmurs the Italian, “but I -pray you with the sword.” - -“Hold!” cries Guy, who has English sympathy with the under animal in -the fight, “As your military counsel I will defend you in this court.” - -“Do not waste your words for me, señor,” says the Italian sadly. “These -Flemish dogs are licking their chops already for my blood.” - -But Guy, unheeding this, goes to pleading for this unfortunate officer -of Spain, using at times, in his impulsive way, a vehement eloquence -that is so uncomplimentary to Paciotto’s accusers that did the -Englishman not wear the Gueux medal himself, and, above all, were he -not the man who had given to their hands the four ships loaded with -powder and ammunition, Sir Guy Chester himself might not have come -scathless from out this council of the Beggars of the Sea. - -In spite of Chester’s imprecations and implorings the Gueux officers -make very short work of the affair, and in less than five minutes by -the ticking Dutch clock that stands facing them in the hall, they -condemn the Italian engineer not to death with the sword, but to the -dog’s death—by the noose. - -And sentence being given, the Italian cries suddenly: “How long is it -since Flushing has been in danger of falling into your hands?” - -“About three days,” says a Gueux captain. “But what does that matter to -you, who are to die in three minutes?” - -At this Paciotto, smiting his hands together and his eyes flashing with -anger even above their despair, utters these astounding words: - -“My God! Sacrificed. Holy Virgin! Killed for my secret!” And suddenly -whispers to Guy: “You are the First of the English?” - -“Yes.” - -“Ask the Dutch officers that I may have ten minutes in which to make my -peace with God, alone with you, who, from the rosary you wear upon your -neck, must be of my faith.” - -This appeal is answered by Van Tresslong with a surly “Yes!” - -Whereupon Paciotto, his hands even now bound with the ligatures of -execution, is thrust into a little adjoining room from which there is -no escape, and into which, moved by the Italian’s pleading eyes, and, -perchance, prompted by some latent curiosity, Chester follows him. - -“Close the door,” the Italian whispers. Then he bursts out still under -his breath: “You are the only one who has been my friend in this my -last hour on earth. Behold my reward! I can give you a fighting chance -to become one of the magnates of this earth.” - -“How?” - -But the Italian scarcely answers this, muttering: “Sacrificed! The -shadow of death is over me—put there by him of Alva, who never spares -what it is his interest to destroy. This town threatened—for three -days! He knew of this outbreak of the Gueux—that Flushing would be a -place of extreme danger, and sent me here ostensibly to complete the -fortifications, but really that his secret should pass away—with my -life. For I am the only man in the Netherlands who knows it.” Then he -breaks out suddenly, whispering hoarsely: “You, I am told, are one who -cares as nothing for his life. Would you, for enormous wealth, avenge -me of my enemy, though at a desperate risk?” - -“For enormous wealth I would risk my life—nay, almost my soul,” gasps -Guy, whose great thought, since he has won the love of Viceroy’s -daughter, has been to gain station, power and gold enough to give her -Viceroy’s state and pomp. - -“Then, First of the English, you are the man fitted for my post-mortem -reckoning with Alva. The man who dared to visit Antwerp; I remember you -there—looking straight in the Viceroy’s face—his proclamation for your -head posted on the wall above you. You are the man to give me -vengeance. Listen to the secret of Alva’s statue.” - -“Alva’s statue!” cries Guy, recollection of Oliver’s words coming to -him. - -“Hush! Don’t interrupt me. My time is very short. This great statue the -Duke has erected to his honor is partly for another purpose! To protect -the treasure he has gathered from his tenth penny tax, that he means to -transport to Spain for his own use, honor and profit. The pedestal—” - -“Ah, I remember. The pedestal of unusual size—it contains the booty of -the Netherlands,” whispers Chester. - -“Bah! No, Alva is too astute for that. The statue and its pedestal -contain nothing.” - -“Nothing?” - -“And yet,” says the Italian, “the statue is the guardian of Alva’s -treasure.” - -“How?” - -“Hearken. While altering and rebuilding the Citadel of Antwerp, I, as -chief engineer, discovered an old vaulted way made for purposes of -sally. It ran from the great Bastion of the Duke under the moat to a -place of egress in the city itself, a house just beyond the Esplanade. -Under secret instructions from the Captain-General, I excavated at the -Citadel end of this passage in the solid rock thirty feet under ground -a chamber. This chamber holds the treasures of Alva. The earth and -solid masonry of the great bastion of the Duke are heaped upon it. It -would take weeks of labor to dig down from the Citadel to obtain it, -and explosives enough to blow up the bastion. Therefore it cannot be -reached from the Citadel. But from the town it is accessible, though -impossible to one not knowing its secret, for it has been guarded by -every art the mechanism of Giovanni Alfriedo, an ingenious Italian -imported from Venice, could give to its defense. Yet it is easy and -quick of access to those who have the secret, and I am the only man -save Alva that knows it now—Giovanni himself being slain by pirates on -his return voyage to Venice, perchance by order and design.” - -“Thy time is up!” shouts Van Tresslong, thundering on the door. - -“Ten minutes more for the soul of a dying man,” murmurs Paciotto. - -“Yes, time that he may die in his church,” cries Guy, desperate now for -Alva’s secret. - -So a few minutes more are given to them, not for mercy, but to find a -hangman. For the town executioner is absent at Middelburg and word of -this being now brought to Van Tresslong he raises his voice in the -crowd in front of the town hall, proclaiming largess for a hangman. - -But none wish to undertake this degrading office—save one man, who -being told Paciotto is a Spaniard, cries: “I’ll do the job, I’ll hang -the Spanish forever! Only I must have liberty to attack and kill anyone -who scorns me for having been a Spaniard’s hangman,” and makes his -preparations with noose and ladder. - -While they are finding executioner for him, Paciotto rapidly whispers -in Guy’s ear: “The entrance to the passage is from a house now occupied -by an old deaf and dumb woman, Señora Sebastian. She knows nothing -about it, the place having been rented to her at little stipend after -the work had been completed. You take up four stones in the center of -the cellar and it shows you the passageway. But this vaulted gallery at -two places before you come to the moat, and one right under the fosse -itself, is guarded by iron doors of strength sufficient to resist -anything but barrels of gunpowder. Each of these doors is opened by -ingenious locks. According to the device of this skilled mechanic, each -of these locks requires three peculiar keys that must be used in a -certain varying order. Employed outside of this rotation the locks will -yield no vantage to the keys. Any attempt to blow down the iron gates -with powder would destroy the passageway itself, and let the Schelde in -upon and drown you.” - -“But what has the statue to do with this?” whispers Guy. - -“Ah! that is Alva’s cunning joke upon his turbulent soldiery. By the -Captain General’s mystery in regard to it half the mercenaries of his -Antwerp garrison swear that the statue itself is the storehouse of -Alva’s gold. This is by his design. He does not fear the citizens -taking his treasure, but that his own soldiers, unpaid for years, may -break into open mutiny. The first thing they would seize would be the -booty of their commander. Therefore the first thing they would break -into for his gold would be the pedestal of his statue. That done, the -vaulted passageway from the town would be impassable to anything save -fish, for the statue is so contrived that if disturbed on its base a -sluice gate is opened and the waters of the moat flood the only path to -Alva’s treasure. After that, even if they discovered the true hiding -place of his gold, it would be a month before the mercenaries could -obtain it by mining and blowing up the Bastion of the Duke. Within that -month the mutiny would certainly be put down and the treasure saved.” - -“But the keys?” whispers Guy impatiently, for the rising murmurs of the -crowd outside shows him time is precious. - -“I have here—open my doublet and cut away the lining,” whispers -Paciotto, “for my hands are bound—drafts of each key with its number, -from which you can have them made, besides an account of how they -should be used; also a drawing of the excavation leading to the -treasure of the Duke. Give me vengeance on him—you mean to try, I can -see it in your face—if you succeed, a rare surprise for him of Alva. -How he will rave when in his empty treasure house he finds no plunder. -All his tenth penny tax gone; the thing for which he has imperilled his -favor with the king, the thing for which he has crushed these -Netherlands to the earth. No gold for Alva—no gold—ho! ho!—ha! ha!—he! -he!” and bursts into hideous despairing chuckle—his last laugh on -earth. - -Even as Guy takes from him a small package carefully sealed up in -parchment cover, the door is thrown open, and Tresslong, De Ryk, and -the Gueux officers enter. - -“It is time the gallows should bear its fruit!” cries the admiral. - -“And you have no mercy?” says the Italian. - -“None to the confidant of Alva. We give you your master’s mercy!” - -Then they seize him and drag him out, he desperately crying: “Give me -the death of a gentleman—not the gallows, but the sword. I am as noble -as Egmont and Horn—I will have death by the sword, the noble’s death.” - -But this mention of Egmont and Horn, the two murdered chiefs of the -Netherland nobility, produces rage not consideration, and Paciotto is -forced out on to the square facing the town hall. Here he looks up at -the ladder standing against the gallows, upon which already the two -officers who had accompanied him dangle; then putting despairing eyes -on Chester, murmurs: “Remember, avenge me!” - -So, in the midst of all that laughing, jeering gang of Beggars of the -Sea, some gazing at him from the crowded square, others for better view -climbing the riggings of their ships, that are but half a hundred yards -away, most of them habited as monks and nuns, in fantastic garments, -the spoil of the nunnery at Briel, Pedro Paciotto, engineer and man of -science, gallant and man of war, steps up the ladder, a crucifix upon -his lips, and though he is hung like a dog, dies like a gentleman and a -Catholic. - -But Guy scarce sees the convulsed limbs and dying agony. His eyes have -before them only the heaping gold of Alva, the taxes of the -Netherlands, the mighty treasures of the father that he will make his -daughter’s wedding dower. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -MAJOR GUIDO AMATI HAS A SPREE. - - -Chester is not the man to long for Alva’s treasure without desperate -and immediate efforts to get them. He is soon on board the Dover Lass, -and, locking himself in his cabin, makes examination of the packet he -has taken from the doublet of Paciotto, who is now hanging, food for -the crows, in the market-place of Flushing. - -On carefully opening the parchment wrapping he discovers drawings of -three large keys to their exact size and dimensions, numbered, -respectively, one, two and three. Beneath directions for their use: - - - “For first door use in succession keys numbers one, two and three. - - “For second door, keys numbered three, two and one. - - “For third door, key number two, then number one, then number - three. - - “Use exactly in the order noted. Any change in this rotation may - injure locks.” - - -Besides this there is a sketch showing the direction and length of the -passage under the Citadel, also where the sluice gate connected with -the statue of Alva opens into the vaulted passage, and how that can be -made immovable so that even if the statue is destroyed the waters of -the Schelde will not enter the passageway to drown those at work upon -the doors. - -These drawings and directions are upon the finest and lightest Italian -paper, so as to be of very small bulk and easy of concealment. - -Of these he makes an exact and careful copy, this he deposits in his -strong box in the cabin of the Dover Lass. The original he carefully -secures upon his person. - -Then the Englishman goes to meditating. To gain this treasure it is -evident that he must not only go to Antwerp for a sufficient time to -have the keys manufactured by some skilled locksmith, but also have -with him a vessel and crew, capable of conveying away the booty after -he has obtained it. To visit Antwerp alone is an achievement of the -greatest danger. To take with him any portion of his crew with a vessel -and lie off the docks seems to him impossible. - -But finally, after turning over the enterprise in his mind again and -again (for he will not even trust the secret to Dalton, his first -officer, who he knows is true as steel), the following simple yet -ingenious plan comes to him: He will take the Dover Lass and with her -capture Spanish merchantmen until he finds one the captain of which has -never been in Antwerp, though consigned to merchants in that place. -Having taken possession of this vessel he will dispose of the captain -and crew so that they will never come to light again. He himself will -assume, under disguise, the name and post of the captain of the vessel. -He will take, carefully selected from his crew, such men as most -resemble Spanish and Flemish tars, and sail the vessel deliberately up -to Antwerp, using his papers and clearings from the Spanish port, and -deliver his cargo to the consignee of the vessel as if he were the very -captain whose place he has assumed. While discharging his cargo he can -probably (with the assistance of Antony Oliver, if he can but find him -in the place) obtain possession of the treasure of the Duke, load his -vessel with it, taking cargo in the meantime as regular trader for any -port to which he may be consigned or chartered by Antwerp merchants. - -Then, when once more on the open sea, he will sail to England and land -his treasure with the same impunity that Drake and Hawkins and other -English freebooters carry in their captured ingots from the Spanish -main. In fact, he will assert Alva’s gold came from a captured galleon -and pay Elizabeth her ten per cent. upon the same, the usual impost on -such plunder. - -One hour after making these resolutions the Dover Lass is under way for -the open ocean, and in the next few days his fleet little vessel -overhauls and captures two or three vessels consigned to Antwerp. But -none of these are exactly fitted for his purpose. Their captains he -finds by close questioning and overhauling their logs have been in -Antwerp before and are known there, or some of their crew have -relatives or friends about the place, or there is something in their -charters that make them unsuitable. - -Therefore he sends these in and sells them for what they will bring, -cargoes and ships, in the town of Flushing, which is now safe in the -hands of the Prince of Orange, whose banner many more towns and cities -in the Netherlands are hoisting at this time, some to their undoing and -the butchery of their inhabitants—men, women and children. - -The money received for these forced sales of stolen goods is hardly a -tenth of their value, for coin is very scarce in the Netherlands under -Alva’s tenth penny tax, though it gives Chester a sufficiency to do -what he wishes in Antwerp. - -All this business takes time, and it is nearly a month after he has -possessed himself of Paciotto’s secret that Guy Chester overhauls and -captures the caravel Esperanza, commanded by one Andrea Blanco, whose -log shows she has never been in Antwerp, having been employed chiefly -in the West Indies. This Captain Blanco he finds by deft questionings, -fearful threats, and a guess at his patois, comes from Hispaniola—in -fact, the whole crew have never been in Flemish waters before. - -The vessel is the one for his purpose, being a strong barque of -something over three hundred tons, and Guy notes rather a fast sailor, -though not to be compared with the Dover Lass, and is armed, having -seven demi-culverins on each broadside. In fact, she has made some -little show of resistance to the Dover Lass, which in these desperate -times would generally have insured the butchery of the crew, especially -as it is now to their captors’ interests to put them where they will -never tell any tales upon the Antwerp docks. - -Against his judgment, Chester cannot bring himself to in cold blood -destroy them. - -Therefore, summoning Dalton to him, he says curtly to his chief -officer: “It is necessary that I in person take our prize, the -Esperanza, act as her captain, and with thirty of my men sail her to -Antwerp.” - -“Going to Antwerp!” growls his lieutenant bluntly. “Going to the devil! -And who’ll go with you into Alva’s very jaws?” - -“You would, if I asked you, Dalton,” answers his commander. “Call up -the crew.” - -And these coming aft to the mainmast, Chester looks over his hundred -and twenty-five “Dover Lasses,” devil-may-care’s, from cook and cabin -boy up, and says to them without palaver: “Now, my men, I’ve got the -best job on hand we ever had—more plunder in it. To do it I must take -thirty of you and sail our prize to Antwerp. If we don’t succeed you -know what Alva will do with us. It’ll be fire, not water. If I win, -it’ll be twenty doubloons to every man of the crew of the Dover Lass, -and two hundred to you, Dalton, and the other officers in proportion. -But every man of the Esperanza’s crew gets twenty doubloons extra for -his risk, and it is a desperate one—therefore I ask for volunteers. All -willing to go with me to the devil step onto the quarter-deck.” - -Then every man jack of his crew with a rush is around him on the -quarter-deck, Dalton crying: “For God’s sake, take me with you, -captain. I won’t let you go alone.” - -But Chester says: “It is necessary that you take charge of the Dover -Lass,” and selects those to go with him very carefully, picking out -such men as will appear most like sailors of a trading ship, and being -fortunate in finding twenty-seven of them who speak Spanish, having -picked up more or less of the language about the West Indies and -Mediterranean. - -Therefore he only takes twenty-seven, headed by Martin Corker, who -growls that he has cut enough Spanish throats to have picked up the -lingo. - -The preparations being finished, Chester takes his first lieutenant -into his cabin and speaks very seriously: “These are my orders. Iron -every man of the Spanish crew who are in the hold of the Dover Lass -with double manacles, leg and wrist. Take no chance of their escaping. -Make your trip with all despatch, and land them upon the west coast of -Ireland.” - -“What! among those murdering barbarians? I’ll have to be careful that -we don’t get our own throats cut,” says Dalton. For at that time the -west coast of Ireland was an Ultima Thule regarded with horror by all -Jack tars, no wrecked sailor ever returning from it. - -“Rendezvous,” he adds to Dalton, “at Flushing as soon as you have done -your errand. Wait for me there.” - -“But if you don’t return?” - -“Then you’ll be captain of the Dover Lass. I shall come back, though. -But don’t as you value my life, and the lives of those poor devils with -me, let any of this Spanish crew, the captain least of all, get out of -your hands, until you have consigned them to the O’Brien’s, O’Toole’s, -or some wild murdering Irish chief, who’ll enslave them, and from whose -savage clutches there will be as little hope of escape as blackamoors -stolen from Africa have in the Indies!” - -“Trust me for that. No garlic-eating Don of them ever sees his mother -again. If there’s a chance of a Spanish man-of-war catching me—over -they go,” says Dalton, his gesture is very suggestive. - -Then the Dover Lass shapes her course for the Hebrides, taking the -northern route to Ireland to avoid any chance of encountering Spanish -armed vessels. - -While Sir Guy Chester, disguised as Captain Andrea Blanco, with his -twenty-seven volunteers, all made as unlike English sailors as -possible, upon the good ship Esperanza, and floating the flag of Spain, -with Martin Corker at the helm, sails for the Schelde estuary. - -Arriving there in early morning, he gets past Flushing by the narrowest -squeak, being desperately pursued by some of his brother Beggars of the -Sea, and early in the afternoon makes the Fort of Lillo. Here he finds -three Spanish war galleys and great activity, and being boarded by a -Spanish patrol boat he shows his charter papers and consignment to the -firm of Jacobszoon & Olins, who do business on Wool street just off the -English quay, Antwerp. - -These being satisfactory, taking advantage of the tide, late on a -bright May day, the setting sun gilding the beautiful tower of the -church of Our Dear Lady, Chester drops anchor off the city front, and -again passing satisfactorily the custom officials, takes his -consignment papers and charter to the house of Jacobszoon & Olins. - -“Hoezee! You escaped those plundering Gueux, my worthy Captain Blanco,” -cries the senior partner Jacobszoon, a florid, paunchy individual. - -Jan Olins, a man of clean cut face and precise manner, remarks: “You -must have handled your vessel very well. If the government doesn’t put -down these Dutch freebooters, good bye to the commerce of Antwerp.” - -Then the two invite their successful captain to supper. “Come with us,” -says Jacobszoon, “it will be my night away from home. We’ll have a -friendly bottle at the Painted Inn.” - -But Guy is not anxious to visit the Painted Inn, being exceedingly -eager to put eyes upon Antony Oliver, and excuses himself on the plea -that he must return to his vessel. - -“Ah, you’ll sleep on board?” says the junior partner. - -“Probably,” replies the captain, “until I have my vessel alongside the -quay.” - -“Well, the Tower of the Angels is a very good inn not far from here,” -suggests Jacobszoon. “It will also be convenient to your ship.” - -“Thank you, I’ll remember it,” and getting away from the two gentlemen -who seem to be greatly delighted at the arrival of their ship and are -inclined to be effusive in their hospitality, Chester in the course of -a few minutes’ stroll up Wool street, finds himself before the painted -pole of the barber surgeon. - -The night is dark, there is no lamp in the hall, and he is not -recognized by the little blood-letter, who lets him in. So going up the -three flights of stairs, he finds with unexpected joy that Antony -Oliver opens the door in answer to his knock. - -To his further delight Guy is himself unrecognized even by the -painter’s sharp eyes. Antony has been working at his altar piece. The -setting sun comes in upon and halos the glorious face and divine eyes -of Hermoine de Alva. With lover’s rapture the Englishman strides toward -the canvas. To Oliver’s quick and anxious remark: “What is your -business?” he answers nothing, being rapt in contemplation of his -sweetheart! - -“Your business, señor?” - -“Oh—ah! yes! Have you had any pigeon pie lately?” whispers Chester, -waking up. - -“Morbleu!” ejaculates the Flemish artist. “Captain—no Major Guido -Amati!” - -“Not this trip,” says the other shortly, closing the door, “but one -Andrea Blanco, captain of the Spanish galleon Esperanza, with hides, -tallow and Spanish wine, consigned to Jacobszoon & Olins, and -discharging her cargo at the English quay.” - -“But still, my Guido,” whispers the painter, and the impulsive -Franco-Fleming throws his arms round Guy’s neck and imprints two tender -kisses, one on each cheek. - -“Is your infernal boy here?” mutters the Englishman savagely, who does -not care for this kind of salute. - -“Oh, I’ve dismissed Achille for the day. He is down stairs with his -family,” says Oliver. “But what brings you here? Mademoiselle -Hermoine?” - -“She is here—in Antwerp?” cries Guy excitedly, his heart beating wildly -and a lover’s joy in his eye. - -“No, fortunately she is in Brussels.” - -“Fortunately?” - -“Yes, because I can see you would take desperate chances to have an -interview with her, and with five thousand crowns on your head.” - -“Five thousand?” - -“Yes—you’ve gone up in the market lately. Alva has heard how you sent -the Gueux against him laden with powder and ball to fight for their -breakfasts. No provisions, no water, but plenty of powder, eh? That was -a glorious stroke. But Queen Elizabeth has disowned you once more, and -Alva has proclaimed that your caput is worth five thousand crowns. -Parbleu! how he hates you now. If he only knew”—and the painter bursts -into laughter, then says very seriously: “What makes you take this -awful risk again, my Guido?” - -“Bar the door and listen,” whispers the English captain. This being -done, he says under his voice: “On my last visit here I won the love of -Alva’s daughter. On this visit I shall win all Alva’s tenth penny -gold.” - -“Diable! you’re crazy!” - -“Harken to my story and see if I am,” and sitting down Chester tells -his strange tale of Paciotto’s revelation and post-mortem vengeance -upon the dictator of the Netherlands. - -This wondrous story is listened to with exclamations of astonishment. -As he closes Guy exhibits the drawings of the keys and tracings of the -subterranean passage under the bastion, saying: “Now, do you believe?” - -“Yes,” replies the painter slowly, “I do! Alva has made the troops -think the pedestal of his statue is his treasure house. Alva did know -that Flushing would be captured three days before it fell. Therefore he -must have sent Paciotto there with design. I believe you.” - -“Then,” says Guy, “take a third of Alva’s gold and help me get it.” - -“With all my soul!” answers Oliver enthusiastically. “My share shall be -devoted not to myself, but to my country. I’ll make war upon Alva with -his own tenth penny tax. But you’re hungry.” - -“No, I dined on board ship.” - -“Oho! a lover’s appetite.” - -“Yes. How is she? You have been in Brussels—how is she?” - -“Yes, I returned from there but two days ago,” replies the painter, -sighing. “I wanted to have a last go at my altar piece before I ran -away to the war.” - -“You’re going to fight?” - -“I must. With all the Netherlands rising up in arms, could I keep from -the field? Besides, the hand is getting closer to me. Soon I shall have -to fly. Nom de Dieu! that last was a narrow squeak,” continues Oliver, -“the day the news came of the taking of Briel by the Sea Beggars.” - -“How? Were you in danger?” - -“Judge for yourself. You know this tax is crushing everybody. The -bakers will not bake, the butchers will not slaughter, the people will -not trade. Now this did not please His Highness of Alva, so he sent for -the hangman and told him to make eighteen nooses and some twelve foot -ladders and take his orders from Don Frederico to hang in front of his -own door each of the eighteen principal bakers of Brussels, as a -warning to their fellows to go to baking at once. That very night the -news of the taking of Briel came and saved them, for the capital got -excited over it and Alva having other matters to attend to forgot the -bakers. In the morning I was sent for suddenly. ‘Oliver,’ says His -Highness, ‘Find me the fellow who manufactured that.’ And he poked -under my nose a caricature of himself looking eagerly about for his -spectacles, and written underneath: - - - “‘On April Fools’ Day, - Duke Alva’s Briel was stolen away.’ - - -“Briel you know is the Flemish for spectacles. ‘This horrible and -audacious caricature’ went on His Highness ‘was found placarded near my -palace. Find me the villain painter of it.’ ‘How can I, your Highness?’ -I gasped. ‘You can better than any man. You’re an artist’ snarled the -Duke. ‘Hang me if the fellow’s style of drawing isn’t something like -yours. He must have studied under the same master. Find me the -seditious dauber!’ So I went away, but my knees shook—for I was the -painter! But I can’t stand this dangling over boiling oil any longer, -and I’m going to fight—and die perchance; but like a man with a sword -in my hand, not like a criminal on the rack.” - -“And Doña Hermoine,” interjects Guy, “how did it affect her?” - -“What affect her?” - -“The news of the taking of Briel.” - -“I don’t believe she thought of it at all. Routs and fêtes occupy that -young lady’s time,” replies the artist “not politics. Besides, she has -an ardent admirer in General Noircarmes—” - -“’S’death!—has she forgotten me?” mutters the Englishman. - -“No I think it is because she remembers you.” - -“How?” - -“Well, for the first two weeks after you went away she was joy itself; -no face so radiant, no eyes as brilliant, no wit as flashing, in the -whole of Alva’s court, and there are many beautiful women in Brussels. -And then—” - -“Well, what then?” - -“Then she grew sad, and for a month or so had a very hard time of it.” - -“What caused her grief? Do you know?” - -“Yes, I can guess.” - -“What?” - -“You!” - -“I!” - -“Yes. Word came from Middelburg that you had been behaving very badly, -my boy,” says Oliver, with a little chuckle. - -“I—badly?” - -“Very badly!” guffaws Oliver. “The report was that on receipt of his -commission Major Guido Amati went on a most prolonged and excessively -hilarious debauch of joy.” - -“Good heavens! The infernal villain!” - -“He is,” assents Oliver. “It is said Major Guido Amati has the very -handsomest mistress in Middelburg.” - -“Oh, God of heaven—a mistress!” shudders Guy. - -“Parbleu! How moral you seem to have got,” jeers Antony. - -“He’ll—he’ll ruin me! What an ingrate villain she’ll think me! -Damnation! to have my reputation hang upon this drinking debauchee,” -falters Guy. Then he cries out: “What shall I do? Advise me, Oliver. I -must go to Middelburg and meet him hand to hand; I must kill this -fellow before he ruins my every hope of happiness on earth.” - -“Don’t,” chuckles Oliver, “for if you kill Major Guido Amati, Hermoine -de Alva will go in to mourning.” - -“Mourning for him?” - -“No, for YOU. If I am not mistaken she loves you very deeply. But your -conduct, my dear boy, has given her great unhappiness.” Then in spite -of himself the painter bursts into a laugh and jeers: “Diable, I see -you doing penance for Major Guido Amati’s sins at the feet of your lady -love! But come to supper.” - -“I can’t eat. Don’t laugh at me.” - -“Oh yes you can. If fair Hermoine didn’t have spasms of rage and -despair each time she thinks Major Guido Amati is a very wild, reckless -fellow, then it would be time to lose your appetite. When Doña Hermoine -de Alva ceases to care for what Major Guido Amati does, then let Guy -Chester despair.” - -“On this view of the case I’ll go to supper with you,” answers Guy -heartily. - -And the two go off, not to one of the great inns of Antwerp this time, -but to the near-by Tower of the Angels, where they get a fearful meal, -though Chester seems to have an appetite now—even for its unsavory -cuisine and sour wine. - -Coming back from this they fall to discussing the immediate business of -Guy’s visit to this city of his enemies, and decide upon the following -plan: Chester is to go to work unloading his vessel in sailor style. -Oliver, from his knowledge of the town, is to make the necessary -investigations and have the keys manufactured. - -“It wouldn’t be safe,” he says, “to have them all made by one -locksmith. I’ll make a copy of this drawing, placing the draft for each -key on a separate piece of paper. You keep the originals. I’ll leave a -draft of key number one with a mechanic that I know, the drawing of -number two with a locksmith in another part of the city. In fact, I’d -better have the other two keys made in other towns, as their guilds -bring workmen together and word might get about of our orders, for -these keys are very curious in their design, and will cost a good deal -of money.” - -“As to that,” says Guy, “I’ve got plenty for the business.” - -So it is finally settled that one key is to be made at Antwerp, one at -the near-by town of Malines, and the other in the capital itself. -Antony is also to investigate the house near the Esplanade and see if -it is as described and kept by the old deaf and dumb Spanish woman. “I -must go at once to Brussels to have the key made, leaving one on the -route at Malines,” says Oliver. - -“Let me take the journey,” suggests Guy very eagerly. “You have work to -do here.” - -“And haven’t you—unloading your ship. Besides,” replies Antony, “it -isn’t to have the key made that you want to go to Brussels. It is to -get word with Hermoine de Alva.” Then he goes on, sternly, “No matter -what she may do, no matter what she may think, keep away from her for -God’s sake, until this business is settled. Suspicion upon you now -would ruin everything. Forget you are Major Guido Amati de Medina, a -dashing soldier and lover of the Viceroy’s daughter; remember you are -only Andrea Blanco, a common merchant captain, who cares but for grog -and charter money; get to unloading your vessel to-morrow morning.” - -“Very well,” mutters Guy, the painter’s advice being sound but -unpalatable. “I’ll get on board at once.” - -“You can’t. You’ve got to stay with me to-night. The gates are closed -and you have no young lady to give you the word of the night or offer -you a government barge to take you safely out of Antwerp!” laughs -Oliver, then continues more seriously: “Tête Dieu! that was a narrow -squeeze. They had report you were here. Nothing on earth but Alva’s -daughter could have saved you. Remember that Hermoine de Alva that -night kept you and perhaps me from the faggot or the cord. And now five -thousand crowns on your head,” the artist sighs. - -Notwithstanding this gloomy suggestion, these two young men, so -accustomed to danger, have a very pleasant night over a bottle of wine -in the painter’s studio, discussing Antony’s altar piece, which is -quite near completion, the beautiful eyes of Hermoine de Alva gazing -from the canvas upon her English sweetheart, as if welcoming him once -more, not to the city of his enemies—but to the city of his love. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -“GET YOUR DAUGHTER OUT OF ANTWERP.” - - -The next morning each sets about the business he has given himself. - -Chester goes down to the quay very early, fearing, perhaps, some -indiscretion of his seamen, who are not much accustomed to mercantile -ways, and warping his vessel up to the dock, begins to unload his cargo -with a speed that pleases his consignees very greatly. - -Jan Olins comes down personally to inspect the discharging of the -vessel, and pats Guy upon the shoulder, saying: “You’re doing well,” -then goes down into the hold and himself carefully inspects all its -contents, rather to Chester’s surprise, but he, not being a merchant -captain, puts it out of his mind, supposing it is the custom for -traders to look thus carefully after their cargoes. - -That afternoon Chester, still continuing his labor, suddenly bolts into -his cabin and locks himself in. For he has seen the junior partner, -Olins, approaching the vessel in company with Niklaas Bodé Volcker, and -fears recognition by the father of the fair Mina, whose hospitality he -has once enjoyed. - -Fortunately they do not come on board, only inspecting the vessel from -the gang plank, and very soon they go away. - -Shortly after this Chester goes up to the town to meet Oliver. - -This gentleman reports as follows: - -“There is a house as described and located by Paciotto, a tumble-down, -ramshackle old affair, in by no means a good neighborhood. It is kept -by an old deaf and dumb Spanish woman who goes under the name of Señora -Sebastian, but is commonly known by the sailors she takes as boarders -(this house being near the docks) as ‘Mother Dumb Devil,’ referring -probably to her temper.” - -“That’s the place. I’ll put some of my men to lodge there at once,” -says Guy. - -“Not yet, not until we get the keys. Use your men in discharging your -vessel as rapidly as possible. Key number one I have already ordered -made from its draft. Number three I will take to-morrow to Brussels, -leaving number two en route at Malines. Get your cargo out of your -vessel as fast as you can.” - -“How long will you be in Brussels?” - -“Until the key is made, probably five days,” replies Oliver. - -“So long? You know speed is vital. I shall have my ship unloaded by -that time.” - -“It can’t be done sooner. The locksmith says it will take him at least -four days to finish the one ordered here. Consequently it must be five -days before I return from Brussels with the keys. Besides,” says the -painter, “I have had a carrier pigeon from Louis of Nassau to-day, -which makes it necessary that I go to the capital to obtain a little -information. Every town save Amsterdam is up in Holland, and—now an -attack in the rear. I’ve had word they are ready to rise. It would be a -shame that all the Netherlands were up in arms and Mons, my native -place, still fly the flag of Alva.” - -“Then you think Antwerp will rise?” - -“No, neither Antwerp nor Brussels, their Spanish garrisons are too -strong, but they are weakening them day by day. By the by, I saw our -little friend De Busaco march out this afternoon with his company for -the north.” - -“Then some day Antwerp may have a chance.” - -“Pish! Antwerp thinks of nothing but trade. Trade destroys patriotism. -All the burghers want is to be let alone with their commerce. But take -my word for it, this place will suffer more than any other town in the -Netherlands. Antwerp will be the man on the fence, and the man on the -fence is always shot at from both sides. But I must go to Bodé -Volcker’s.” - -“Ah! The fair Wilhelmina!” laughs Guy. “I would go with you, but the -debonnaire officer Guido Amati appearing as Andrea Blanco, captain of -trading vessel, would make old Niklaas open his eyes. But you are -anxious to visit him. So good night and—good bye.” - -“Yes, I must have word with Mina. God knows what may happen to me in -Brussels.” Then the painter adds suddenly: “But I must also take care -of you. Promise me, Guido,” his tone is very anxious, “if you cannot -sleep here, that you will at least come every night and every morning -and see if carrier pigeon has brought message from me. I shall take six -birds with me. You know how the little bell rings as they enter the -cote. They may be of infinite importance to your safety—to your life, -for God knows when Alva’s suspicion may fall upon me.” - -So these two men wring hands together. - -The next morning the painter leaves for Brussels, taking Achille with -him, carrying six pigeons, and Guy goes to unloading his vessel as -rapidly as possible. - -This he does for three days, taking every precaution. No man leaves his -ship at night. No liquor is drunk, for the men know their lives depend -upon circumspection, and the hardiest of them shudders as he thinks of -Alva’s death. Even Corker himself, tough old mariner that he is, tells -his captain that he is nervous and cannot sleep nights. - -“It seems,” says the old salt, “so much like havin’ a grip on your -windpipe. Sometimes I feels as if I was chokin’, an’ Bill Chucksin -scared us last night screechin’: ‘For God’s sake, don’t burn me alive!’ -It’s had a bad effect on the men.” - -“No, a good effect,” remarks Guy. “I’ve noticed they’ve been very -careful all day.” - -Then he turns to the boatswain and says: “Tell the men from me that -every Jack tar of them, if this is a success, shall own Portsmouth for -three days, and shall make the Jews rich by each man buying two -watches, one for each fob pocket. How are you getting on with the -unloading, José?” - -“Pretty well, Señor Capitan Blanco,” replies the tar with a wink. “The -fore hold is empty and by to-morrow morning we’ll have cleaned out the -aft and main holds and swept decks. But the consignee’s coming on -board, Señor Capitan Blanco,” and with a few muttered Spanish words the -boatswain strides forward, for he doesn’t like to encounter visitors. - -Guy watches with cloudy brow his consignee come up the gang plank. It -is the fourth day—he has not heard from Oliver, and he is very anxious. - -“Do you generally sleep on board?” remarks Jan Olins, after the usual -greeting to his captain. - -“No, on shore. Sometimes at the inn you recommended, and sometimes with -a friend of mine, an artist.” - -“Well, to-night it will be a great favor to me if you will remain on -the vessel. You can’t leave the town after the gates are closed at -nightfall.” - -“Certainly. What do you wish me to do?” - -“Step into your cabin with me, and I’ll tell you,” replies the Fleming. -And the two getting behind closed doors, Olins whispers. “Under the -false flooring of this cabin, you know, you have twelve cases of goods -that are not in the manifest.” - -This Guy does not know, but he immediately assents to the same. - -“These cases must be got out late to-night and not delivered at our -warehouse, but where I shall personally show you.” - -“To-night, after dark?” - -“Yes, late at night. The moon goes down at ten. Eleven will do for the -hour. Tell your men it is two guilders apiece for each of them, and for -yourself, Captain, the usual tariff.” - -“What is the usual tariff for smuggling in the port of Antwerp?” asks -Guy. - -“Hush! we don’t call it that, we simply call it avoiding the tenth -penny,” mutters the merchant. “You’ll receive one hundred guilders for -your share of the business.” - -“Then give me your hand on the hundred guilders, my hearty,” replies -Chester, knowing that to refuse to smuggle would simply be to -acknowledge himself not up to mark as merchant captain. - -“Very well, we can consider the matter arranged,” whispers Olins, -gripping Guy’s outstretched fingers, and goes on shore. - -Alone by himself, Chester laughs: “I think I’ll see what I’m -smuggling,” and being a man of action, quickly has some of the false -floor of his cabin up, and getting down among the cases opens one. - -After examining its contents and refastening its cover very securely, -the Englishman comes up again whistling softly, but with a great -respect for Mr. Jan Olins in his heart. - -Then he takes his way up to Oliver’s studio, and getting in unnoticed, -for the painter has left him his keys, draws the curtain away from -Antony’s altar piece and gazes upon the fair face that he longs to see. -But even as he looks upon the beautiful eyes of Madonna Hermoine, the -sound of wings above reminds him of his errand. - -He goes hastily up, and examining the dove cote, is astounded to see -all six pigeons in it and no letter upon any of them. - -Coming away he ponders upon this matter very earnestly, finally -concluding that by some accident the birds must have escaped from -confinement and returned to their home. - -Then Guy goes on board his ship and that night by the aid of Corker and -some of his crew, under the personal direction of Mr. Jan Olins, -conveys the twelve cases of goods upon which no duty is paid, very -quietly and secretly to a large warehouse some distance nearer the main -quay of the city. - -In this they are entirely unmolested, but in leaving the warehouse, -chancing to look up, Chester sees by the lantern Olins carries to guide -their path, the name of Niklaas Bodé Volcker in large letters over the -archway, and is further impressed by observing that gentleman’s young -son, the snickering Jakob, who has been apparently waiting for the -goods, have word of mouth with Burgher Jan Olins. - -“Aha!” thinks the Englishman. “If I wanted a hold upon Bodé Volcker -I’ve got one, though I don’t see how he could help me at present.” - -Then they return cautiously to the Esperanza unnoticed and unmolested, -though the guard boats are doing their duty outside the line of -shipping, which is very dense, and in the shadow of which their boat -glides very quietly, Olins himself going back with them and remaining -on board the vessel, as he cannot enter the town until after daybreak. - -This he does, leaving Chester asleep in his bunk, though somewhat -disturbed in his early morning nap by the noise of his men holystoning -and washing down the decks. - -Five minutes after Sir Guy Chester wakes up to discover that he has -need of somebody’s aid in this city of Antwerp, immediate, imperative, -to save his life. - -“There’s a boy come on board, Captain. He says he’s got a letter to you -particular,” whispers his boatswain in his ear, “so I made bold to wake -you up.” - -“Humph!” - -“He says it’s instanta.” - -“What kind of a boy?” - -“A Frenchy.” - -“Achille!” And Chester, thoroughly awake, springing up from his bunk, -orders: “Send him down at once!” - -It is Achille with a note from Oliver. - -“You’re Captain Andrea Blanco?” asks the messenger. - -“Yes.” - -“Then you’re to read this at once,” says the boy, handing his missive, -which bears evidence of being written in great haste and agitation. - -It has no address, but is in Oliver’s hand, and reads: - - - “Fly! Fly quickly—for God’s sake—for your life, and if possible - save the boy who brings this. He has been my servant—they’ll - torture him for evidence. The hand is descending upon me. I have - only time to say God bless you. Good bye.” - - -“How came you to bring this?” asks Guy, his lips trembling a little and -his face growing pale. - -“He told me—” - -“He!—who?” - -“Monsieur Oliver; he told me to get a pigeon,” says the boy, “and I -went to the coop and somehow—for he cried to me to hurry—I let the door -open and they all got out and flew away. Then I went to him and told -him.” - -“And he?” - -“I think he must be sick. He screamed ‘Mon Dieu! what have you done?’ -Then he said to me, ‘You’ve let the pigeons go, you must take a -letter—Misericorde! my friend!’ Then he gave me money to get a horse -and told me to ride as fast as I could and to get here last night in -time to get through the town before the gates closed and give this to -Captain Andrea Blanco on the ship Esperanza. And then to do what he -told me.” - -“Then why were you not here last night?” demands Guy, in awful tones. - -“The stableman cheated me in the horse, curse him—the beast was lame -and I didn’t get to the Emperor’s Gate until just as it was closing, so -I had to stay at home all night, but I brought it here as soon as the -gates were open. But you’re not Captain Andrea Blanco, you’re Captain -Guido Amati,” adds Achille, who has kept curious eyes on Guy ever since -he came into the cabin. - -“Both.” - -“That’s funny.” - -“Don’t trouble yourself about thinking whether it’s funny or not,” says -Chester in a quarter-deck tone that astonishes the French boy. “Sit -down!” - -“I’d—I’d like to go home for breakfast,” mutters Achille nervously. - -“Stay here, have breakfast with me, and do as I tell you. That’s what -your master bids you do.” - -Thus commanded, and a very savory breakfast making its appearance, -Achille sits down and eats, though Guy does not join him, for he is -thinking with all his soul what he shall do. - -He can, perhaps, find safety himself in flight, but leave his men to be -butchered or executed he will not. Every instinct of manhood compels -him to stay with those whose lives he has put into such desperate -jeopardy. Besides this poor French boy who has unwittingly risked his -life to save him. But one thing can save them all! That is to get them -out on the open sea on the Esperanza. He has lost last night’s chance -of preparation by the failure of Achille’s horse. But he guesses that -suspicion will not fall upon him for the next few hours. Brussels is -thirty miles away, and even after word arrives it will take some time -for the Spanish spies to discover that Andrea Blanco has dined with -Oliver the traitor twice and breakfasted once at the Tower of the -Angels. - -Altogether he thinks he is sure of six hours. So ordering the last few -bales of cargo and hides to be discharged as quickly as possible, and -bidding Achille to keep himself close in the cabin, he goes out -hurriedly to the office of his consignees, which is just opening for -the day’s business. - -Here getting word in the private office with the senior partner, he -says: “I have discharged my cargo. Can’t you give me consignment in -ballast to some place?” - -“Absurd!” answers the florid Jacobszoon. “Why should we send you with -ballast when we can get charter money for you? Wait here until cargo is -obtained.” - -“You must give me a consignment in ballast.” - -“Why?” - -“Because the custom house officers are loitering about my vessel.” - -“Verdomd! you been smuggling!” cries the senior partner. “If you’ve -been getting us into trouble by your infamous sailor notions on that -point, Captain Blanco, you can stay here and face it. I won’t help -you.” - -This answer is discouraging. It shows Chester that Jacobszoon knows -nothing of his junior’s operations with the twelve cases of goods. - -Guy goes out and loiters about the entrance of the office, determined -to see Olins. - -That gentleman is an early office bird, notwithstanding his vigil of -the night before, and he encounters him coming down Wool street. - -“I must have a word with you, Mijn Heer Olins,” he says. - -“Yes, come to the office.” - -“No, in private, and not at your office.” - -“Very well, this wine room,” answers Olins, looking hard at Guy, and -leads the way to a place of refreshment with which apparently he is -familiar, as the two get a private room together. - -“Now,” he says, “is it the money for that smuggling business, Capitan -Blanco? I’ll have it for you in a few minutes, if your crew is -impatient.” - -“No, it’s to demand that you give me an immediate consignment in -ballast from this port.” - -“Impossible!” cries Olins shortly; then whispers: “Why do you want it?” - -“Because I’m suspected of smuggling.” - -“What, that lace last night?” mutters the Fleming, his face growing -set. - -“No lace,” says Chester shortly. - -“A—ah! You must leave Antwerp on the tide,” whispers Olins, a bead of -perspiration on the center of his forehead. “But where can I send you?” - -“Get me papers to Amsterdam.” This is the first place that comes into -Guy’s head. - -“Very well, they shall be obtained. But,” adds the merchant nervously, -“without a charter it would look very suspicious!” - -“I’ll get you the charter,” cries Guy, a sudden idea flashing through -his brain. - -“From whom?” - -“From your fellow patriot, Bodé Volcker.” This is in his ear. - -“Good God! You know—” - -“Yes, arquebuses, packed in lace, that is not a fine—but death,” -whispers Guy. “Fill out an order for charter to Amsterdam.” - -And the merchant, sitting down to write this, Chester admires him—for -patriot Jan Olins’ handwriting is as firm and regular as commercial -copper-plate. - -“Get the papers through the custom house at once,” whispers Guy. - -Then hurrying to his ship once more he dives into his cabin to reappear -a few moments after, rearrayed not as Andrea Blanco, merchant mariner, -but as Guido Amati, the dashing soldier of Spain, for he judges this -the best guise in which to have his interview with ex-Burgomaster Bodé -Volcker. - -At the merchant’s warehouse he is disappointed to find that Niklaas is -still at his home upon the Meir. Making his way there a sudden idea -comes to him, that he can do this business better as debauchee -spendthrift than in any other guise. He will come apparently as spy for -bribe; he will demand gold, but get charter papers. - -Willing to play ignoble role for such result, he tosses about his hair, -disheveling it, slouching his hat over his eyes and assuming the gait -of partial drunkenness, he continues his way to the Bodé Volcker -mansion and enters the business portion of the house. - -A number of clerks are there, the general routine of the office is -going on quite briskly. Here he is received most obsequiously by bowing -clerk, who asks almost tremblingly his name and desires—for these -Spanish soldiers of fortune were quick with blow of hand or knife to -Flemish townsmen. Demanding word with Bodé Volcker, he is shortly shown -into that gentleman’s private office next his counting room. - -Here, with well-assumed drunken leer and one or two suggestive -hiccoughs, he closes and locks the door, the merchant gazing at him in -astonishment, perhaps alarm, for Guy’s appearance, with matted, tossed -about hair, and rolling eyes, a strange excitement in them, brought -about by his desperate situation, gives him the look of having just -risen from a late and prolonged debauch. - -“Yer know me—y’know me—I’m—I’m Major Guido A—Amati, o —er—Romero’s -foot,” hiccoughs the pseudo Spanish roisterer. - -“Yes, I—I had the honor of seeing you at my house once, Captain Amati.” - -“Major—Major Amati de Medina—don’t you forget th’ De Medina. Sit—sit -down and—hic—sign this!” And Guy presses the merchant into his chair -from which he has half risen, and slaps in front of him the charter -paper. - -“What—what is this?” stammers Bodé Volcker. - -“It’s an article ’f charter—firm of Jacobszoon & Olins, for Cap’n -Andrea Blanco—you know Cap’n Andrea—Andrea Blanco?” he winks cunningly, -“of—er ship Esperanza.” - -“A charter in ballast?” cries Niklaas, commercial instinct rising in -him. “What drunken nonsense is this? There’s no money in charter in -ballast.” - -“Not er charter in ballast, but charter to—convey twelve cases of -goods—landed las’ night at yer warehouse—’bout twelve ’clock. See the -pint, Bodé Vol—Volcker?” And this being emphasized with drunken leer -and wink, Bodé Volcker sees the point with an awful gulp of terror, -then gasps: “You—you’re accusing me of smuggling; that—that’s only a -fine!” - -“Yesh—fine of your head!” - -“Smuggling lace—the fine of my head—you’re drunk!” replies the -merchant, plucking up courage. - -“Smuggling arquebuses—packed in lace—time of war—is torture as well.” - -“Good God!” cries Niklaas, “arquebuses! I have been imposed upon—that -villain Olins—arquebuses!” And Guy knows that Bodé Volcker is not a -patriot, but only a smuggler. - -“Jush th’ same—cost your—hic—your head,” hiccoughs Guy. Then he -suggests, with drunken leer: “I couldn’t bear to have my future -banker—th’ man who’s going to give me all—hic—the gambling money I -want, pass out of the world. See the pint, Bodé Volcker!” - -“How much money do you demand? I’m—I’m a poor man!” - -“You’ll be a poorer man soon! See the pint, Bodé Volcker!” and avarice -grins at fear. - -“How much money do you want?” pleads the man of commerce. - -“Lotsch; but we’ll talk ’bout that afterwards,” hiccoughs Chester. -“Sign this charter—get vessel ’way first, then we’ll have bottle or two -together, and I’ll draw a ducish big draft on you.” - -“You’ll not betray me—you’re sure they’re arquebuses?” - -“Call in custom house officers—open ’em and see!” cries Guy. - -But this is too horrible for contemplation. Bodé Volcker signs with a -palsied hand the charter paper of the Esperanza to leave Antwerp -forthwith for Amsterdam and other ports on general trade. - -“As you love yourself, Bodé Volcker—my dear banker, Bodé Volcker,—get -those goods on board at once,” whispers Guy, pocketing the charter -paper, “and—and bring me a bottle of wine.” - -“Yes, I’ll give orders instantly,” gasps the merchant. - -But even as he rises to do this there is a whirr of wheels, a clack of -whip outside, and a clatter of horses’ hoofs as a post chaise, -apparently at desperate speed, dashes into the courtyard. - -A moment afterwards all thought of drunkenness leaves with one flash -the mind of the Englishman. A voice imperative but sweet; a voice that -sets Guy’s heart beating more than the danger of detection, more even -than the terror of death, says outside the door: “Announce to your -master Hermoine de Alva!” - -“Good heavens! Alva’s daughter!” mutters the burgomaster. “She must not -see you. Leave by the back door!” - -But Chester would not leave now for death itself. - -“Oho! gay Bodé Volcker! ladies,” hiccoughs Guy in a feeble attempt to -keep up his character. “I never desert ladies.” - -“Quick!” whispers the old gentleman. “You must remain until this -business is settled and I give you orders for the goods,” and hastily -pushes Chester into a little waiting room just out of his private -office, muttering: “The drunken fool—in the hands of a miserable, -gambling debauchee. My God! poor Bodé Volcker!” - -Then Guy’s heart commences to throb. The place he has been put into by -Niklaas has a little lattice door, through it all sound in the sanctum -of the merchant can be easily heard. It has apparently been constructed -and used for this very purpose, to further chances of gain and vantage -over his customers by the commercial Fleming himself. - -Almost as Guy enters he starts astonished. For these strange words come -to him in impressive but charming voice: “Señor Bodé Volcker, I have -driven from Brussels post haste to bid you, as you love her, get your -daughter out of Antwerp—INSTANTLY!” - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -“GOOD HEAVENS! WHAT AN INTRODUCTION!” - - -“This is a curious errand, Doña de Alva,” returns the old man, bowing -to the earth. “Why do you wish my daughter out of Antwerp?” - -“Because the order is even now speeding from Brussels to seize upon and -confine your daughter in the Spin-House.” - -“The Spin-House! Lieve Hemel! An honorable confinement there might do -the minx good,” says the old man severely. “She has been headstrong and -willful lately. Has she made some careless breach of city regulation. -Perchance she has worn train longer than burghers’ daughters are -permitted. We sometimes, Doña de Alva, send our headstrong daughters -and even the wives of our bosom to the wholesome silence of the -Spin-House in Antwerp.” - -“Not the part of the Spin-House I mean.” - -“Great heavens, you don’t mean—the place for abandoned women—the -harlots of the town?” gasps Bodé Volcker. - -“Yes.” - -“Merciful God! With the fearful scourging of welcome and farewell they -give to those poor creatures?” - -“Yes.” - -“My Mina!” shrieks the old man. “My Mina!” wringing his hands in -despair. Then he cries: “For what crime?—for what crime do they send my -daughter to be disgraced and tortured—what crime?” - -“She is the affianced bride of Antony Oliver, the traitor.” - -“Oliver, your father’s under-secretary?” - -“Yes. It is thought she must have known his sedition. Oliver fled from -Brussels yesterday. Get your daughter out of Antwerp. I won’t have a -woman, innocent or guilty, so degraded and debased,” goes on Hermoine, -almost desperately herself, for the old man is sobbing and wringing his -hands, and seems incapable of action. - -But this stings the Flemish father into rage. His tears vanish. His -eyes blaze. He rises before the beautiful daughter of the man who would -degrade his child and mutters: “But your father who does this thing, -Alva, the tyrant, the coward, the oppressor—” - -“You forget, burgher, you are speaking of the Viceroy to the Viceroy’s -daughter.” The tone is commanding but sad. “I pardon your treason, for -you know not what you say. But do not dare to criticise my father’s -policy of State. In that even I do not interfere, though I am sick—sick -of the blood, sick of the butcheries each day’s report brings from the -army or the execution shambles in the Horse Market. Each day I pray to -the Virgin to make my father’s heart more merciful. Each night I pray -‘No more blood.’ God knows I have importuned him to spare, but he will -not. He says it is the policy of the government, that he is as merciful -as God, the church and his King will permit him to be, and goes on -executing. Every time I see a woman in black I fear it is my father’s -doings. I am here to save your daughter. Get her away! If you cannot, I -WILL.” - -Seeing the old man appears so overcome that he can hardly walk, she -cries out eagerly, “Get a boat—a ship, quick! It’s the only chance. Get -her to some town or country where my father does not rule. Do you -suppose he’ll forgive any one connected by love or by blood with this -Oliver, who had his private ear, who ate the bread of his household, -and who betrayed him? Quick, get your daughter out of Antwerp! Stay, it -is better that I do it. I shall be safe, you might be punished for -saving your own child. Bring your daughter here. What your trembling -limbs refuse to do I’ll do for you.” - -Here sudden inspiration seems to come into the old merchant. He sobs: -“God bless you! Though you are your father’s daughter—God bless you! I -know a man that can do it. There is a ship even now waiting for him.” - -“Whom?” - -“A debauchee, gambler, blackleg—who’s in the next room. If he’s not too -drunk he can get my daughter out of Antwerp. Speak to him, command him, -he’ll obey the daughter of Alva. He’s one of your father’s -officers—Major Guido Amati.” - -“Good heavens, what an introduction!” shudders Guy, his hair rising up -as he mutters curses with white lips. If Bodé Volcker wishes revenge -upon the spy who has caused his heart to flutter with fear of loss of -life and loss of money, could he see the debauchee Guido Amati, he’d -know he had it now. - -Then the clanging of the door closing shows Niklaas has gone to his -daughter. - -A moment after there is a sigh, faint on the air, tender, almost -despairing, and the rustle of soft silks and laces, as if a woman in -agony had sank down bowed by mighty sorrow. - -Blessing God for these sounds of agony and love, Guy Chester opens the -door and looks into the office of Bodé Volcker. She is there, her head -in her white, slender hands, suffering because she thinks him -worthless. It is a sight of pleasure, not of pain. Did she not care for -him would her beautiful form be convulsed with anguish at his -debauchery? Did she not love him would she grieve if Guido Amati were -roué and libertine? - -With this thought Guy, with light steps, crosses the room and locks the -door. He will have five minutes for explanation—for love! - -Crushed by grief, the girl hears him not, but at the sound of clicking -lock starts to her feet, and drawing her fair body up, puts haughty -nose into air and remarks in cutting voice, though her white hands -tremble and clench themselves: “Finishing the two months’ carouse with -which you christened your new commission, Major Guido Amati de Medina?” -then jeers in sneering tone: “Probably you’ll not grace your commission -long. Desertion from your post at Middelburg in the face of the enemy, -by which it is now attacked, without leave of absence—” - -“Without leave of absence,” interjects Chester, “why do you think -that?” - -“I know it! I’ve had word from the Lord de Beauvois, Governor of -Middelburg, that no leave of absence shall be granted to Major Guido -Amati.” - -“Then it’s to your influence,” mutters Guy, “the influence of the woman -I once thought loved me, that Beauvois has constantly kept me within -garrison and prevented me from coming where my heart called me. You -feared my presence by your side in Brussels.” - -“Only after word was brought to me that you had forgotten me.” - -“It was a lie.” - -“A lie?” - -“Yes, a lie; the same as all the other reports circulated about me, the -same as that base one told you two minutes ago—that I was a drunken -debauchee, too drunk to do anything you asked me. Do I look drunk now?” - -She gazes at him. His handsome face bears no signs of dissipation. His -eyes blazing, indignant, fiery but loving, gaze at her. He stands -haughty and erect, and she cries: “No, no, you are fit to do any -woman’s bidding.” - -“Then if I’m sober now, when he said I was drunk, I was sober in -Middelburg when they told you I was a dissipated roué. It was a lie, a -lie furnished by some rival. Who is my rival? Is it Noircarmes?” and he -strides up to her. “Tell me, have you had word of love with him, with -my ring on your finger?” Then looking down, he starts and sighs: “Good -God! it is not there!” next bursts out at her: “By this sign I am truer -than you!” - -And Guy, holding the blazing ruby up before her, she droops her eyes -but looks so infinitely lovely that he could crush her to his breast. -These orbs that sink before his, yet gaze on him, are not the eyes of -the picture of the Madonna he has gazed upon, or of the miniature by -which he has tried to assuage his hungry heart these many months, but -passionate dazzling, real eyes—the eyes of Hermoine de Alva. - -It is not her placid form upon the canvas he is gazing on, but the live -loveliness of real flesh and blood and vivacious womanhood. - -“I am the judge now, not you!” he cries. “Answer!” for she is blushing -and paling and fluttering like a guilty one: “Forgive me!” - -But knight of jealous heart answers “No!” - -And princess of love and grace cries: “You shall!” - -“And why?” - -“For this.” Her tones are pleading now and very sad. “I believed—I -admit it now, my Guido, falsely believed that you were unworthy of me. -When I, the Viceroy’s daughter—” - -“Penalty!” cries Guy, almost from force of habit, and in a rush the -pride of Viceroy’s daughter and the wounded heart of Hermoine de Alva, -go down together before the decree of love. He has her lips again, the -lips that he has longed for, her soft arms cling to him—the arms he -prayed for. And at this moment Guy Chester, surrounded by his enemies, -feels that he will win, and no more dreads the hatred of the father, -for he has the love of the daughter. - -“Pish,” cries the girl, struggling from him, “what logic is in you! You -call me faithless, and you will not let me open my mouth to defend -myself.” - -“What’s logic to your true eyes,” whispers Guy, “I want kisses from -those lips, not words.” - -“Not another kiss until I have explained.” - -“Why not?” - -“Because, though you kiss me as if—as if you loved me,” answers the -girl, blushing very red, “still there’s jealousy in your eyes, and I’ll -have no jealousy, my Guido, for you have cause for none. You went away -bearing my heart with you. You had my present, my picture. Within one -week after reaching Brussels it was rumored about the town so that it -could not fail to reach my ears that instead of living so as to gain -the rank that would make me thine, you had forgotten I—I had given my -heart to you, and lived—not as—as a gentleman, but a spendthrift, as -worse than that, as one who cared not for my love. What everybody -said—I had only known you two days—made me doubt. Then I—as well as a -young lady could about a young gentleman she was not supposed to know -much of—caused inquiries to be made, and it was the same tale—“You were -brave, you were reckless—your life was an insult to my love.” The eyes -are blazing now, but very sad. “Then I, by my influence, got word to -the Governor of Middelburg no leave of absence for Major Guido Amati, -that he might not come to Brussels to again win me over and make me -forgive—as you have done now! Holy Virgin, Guido! if you have deceived -me; then....” - -“May I never win you,” cries Guy. “But I am true to you, have been true -to you. Great heavens! do you think that I could forget such loveliness -as this within a week, within a month, within a year—within my life? -You are the daughter of a Viceroy—” - -“Penalty!” laughs the girl, but blushes and almost runs away from him. - -“Oh, I’ll pay it, ten times over.” He has her in his arms again. - -Here suddenly she says to him, her cheeks growing pale: “You’re without -leave of absence once more.” - -“Yes, thanks to you!” He says carelessly, but starts as he sees the -stab he has given. - -She murmurs with white lips: “Desertion from the army, with Middelburg -surrounded by enemies—it will mean not the loss of your rank—but the -loss of your head. My father is a disciplinarian.” - -“What did I care for that,” answers Chester, “was it not my only hope -of seeing you?” - -This tortures her cruelly, but shows how much she loves him, for she -grows pale and falters. “For my sake you have risked your life. Promise -me you will never risk it thus again. Promise me to return to your post -to-day,” then adds, “I have a commission for you. While seeking safety -yourself, give safety to this poor merchant’s daughter. He tells me -there is a ship which is at your service.” - -“As I am also at your service with my life!” answers Chester. “Leave -this matter in my hands. Without your request I would have saved from -degradation the sweetheart of my friend.” - -He cuts himself short at this, not wishing to discuss Oliver, but -Hermoine, taking up his word, says: “Yes, this traitor was your -friend!” then asks with anxious lips: “How was it you were so intimate -with one untrue to Spain?” - -“Your father trusted him, why shouldn’t I follow Alva’s lead,” returns -the Englishman with ready tongue; but adds sadly: “I am sorry that -after this my duty will compel me to run this Oliver through the body.” - -Then with lie on his lips Guy turns suddenly away, for the -Burgomaster’s rap is heard on the door. Opening he speaks hurriedly to -Bodé Volcker in a tone so sober that the old man stares at him in -wonder and surprise. - -“At the request of Doña de Alva I have taken your daughter’s safety -into my hands. Send order for your twelve cases of goods to be put on -board the Esperanza instantly.” - -“It is already done,” mutters Bodé Volcker, gazing with astonished eyes -on Chester; then he falters: “You’re—you’re quite sure you’re sober -enough for this business?” - -“Diablo! sober enough to bleed you,” mutters Guy, remembering his rôle -of spendthrift and blackmailer. “Send down sufficiency of money with -your daughter to the ship to pay her expenses—and mine too!” - -And this bringing to the merchant’s mind the character of this Spanish -officer, Amati, his reputation as a roisterer and libertine, Niklaas -clasps his hands together and murmurs piteously: “I’m putting her in -your charge. She is the daughter of my heart. For God’s sake remember -you have my money, my life, if you want to denounce me, but spare her. -Were it not for my desperate strait do you think I’d place my lamb in -your wolf’s charge?” - -At this complimentary remark Guy grinds his teeth and assuming the -hauteur of hidalgo, claps his hand upon his sword and mutters: -“Maldito! Have I not sworn to her, the daughter of the Viceroy, to -deliver your wench in safety wherever you wish her sent? At what town -declared for Orange and occupied by Dutch garrison do you want your -daughter delivered? Name the place, and it is done.” - -“Haarlem!” mutters the old man, “I have friends in Haarlem,” and in -after months could have cut his tongue out for these words. - -“It is done,” remarks Guy. “Bring your daughter to me at once.” - -“I will. Mina is packing.” - -“Packing, idiot! Do you suppose she’ll need fine raiment if they have -her in the Spin-House? Fly, and save your daughter’s white back from -the scourge. Quick!” - -In terror at this picture the Burgomaster runs away, while Guy, chewing -his mustache, knows he has shortened an interview he would prolong -though life and death are on its very brevity. He turns and takes a -look at Hermoine de Alva. - -She has her back to him, and in graceful pose and with twistings of -lithe limbs is striving, without the loosening of bodice or stomacher, -to clutch something that eludes her—some article she must treasure as -it lies close to her beating heart. - -As Guy closes the door she gives a little cry of success, and a moment -after is in his arms again, murmuring: “That poor Bodé Volcker will be -here in a moment, then you must go. Ay de mi! the time is very short. -But I have this, now, upon my hand by which to remember you.” With -rapture Guy sees again his brilliant upon the delicate finger of his -love. - -“Whatever they tell you,” he whispers, “swear to remember me by it as -thy true knight.” - -“Yes,” says the girl, “if it is whispered to me that you are untrue, I -shall whisper to myself, ‘It is a lie.’ If they say you are a drunkard, -as that old idiot Bodé Volcker told me,” she flashes indignant eyes -against the door where the Burgomaster has made his exit, “I shall say, -‘My Guido proved it a lie once, it is a lie again.’ But,” her tone is -piteous now, “you’ll come back to me. I know you must go to your -command. There is but one place when war is raging against the flag of -Spain for the affianced of Alva’s daughter, and that is where the -battle flags are waving! There you may win rank high enough and glory -great enough to claim my hand.” - -“Don’t doubt me, I’ll be where the fighting is,” mutters Chester -grimly, “and it’ll be you I fight for, though perhaps Alva will not -appreciate my efforts.” - -“My father always rewards bravery and conduct, remember that, Major -Guido Amati de Medina—bravery and conduct. You may have the courage of -a Paladin, but it will not give you promotion without brains. You have -plenty of both, I think,” she laughs, smoothing away the curls from -Guy’s determined forehead, then cries excitedly: “Why, you have the -head of a chess player!” - -“Yes, the game in which the knight takes the queen,” whispers Guy. - -“Then he must be very gallant and tender and discreet to the captured -lady,” cries the girl, blushing, though there is languor in her -drooping eyes. For the knight at his word has taken possession of the -queen of his soul in a mad, delirious kind of way, as into his mind for -one brief second has come the thought of carrying her off instanter by -some wild coup. - -A moment’s consideration shows Guy that now he has no time to press his -suit or make arrangements to that effect, or even to persuade Hermoine, -for he would not take her unwillingly or bring discredit on the name of -her he honors most upon this earth, and the Burgomaster is now rapping -at the door. - -“Remember—” - -They both speak this same word at once, and each one’s lips prevent the -other’s uttering more. It is their last lingering, torturing, farewell -embrace. - -Then, with the decision of the man of war and the man of affairs, -Chester throws open the door and Niklaas enters, followed by Juffrouw -Wilhelmina, who is in piteous plight and dressed hastily as daughter of -a middle-class burgher, with none of her old-time finery about her. - -There are traces of tears upon her cheeks that have grown very pale, -but her eyes flash with nervous terror and excitement that give a -strange, pathetic beauty to her face. - -“Hurry! there’s a carriage at the door for you,” mutters the -Burgomaster. “I’ve sent what little luggage could be gathered up in -haste to the vessel. A maid servant goes with you.” - -But this is broken in upon by Mina. She strides up to Hermoine de Alva, -who is gazing at her sadly, and mutters brokenly: “Tell me of him!” - -“Him—whom?” - -“My Oliver. Is he safe?” - -“For the present, yes.” - -“Thank God!” - -“Yes, the traitor Oliver fled from Brussels late last night. This -morning word was brought us that with eight men he had captured Mons.” - -“Eight men! Ah! That was a gallant deed. Eight men capture a garrison. -But Louis of Nassau is doubtless hurrying in his men-at-arms from -France into the city. Your hero is safe now, little Mina!” cries Guy, -forgetting his rôle of Spanish officer, in enthusiasm for his friend’s -valor and glory. - -“Yes, he’s safe, for the present,” murmurs Hermoine. “He is a gallant -man and a great painter. I will look after his altar piece. But, oh -misericordia!” she puts her eyes up to heaven and says piteously: “I -pray God my father may never capture him alive.” Then turning to Mina -she says very solemnly: “If you ever have word with your lover again, -pray him as he fears the pangs of Hades, not to be captured alive! It -is a pity so gallant a spirit ate my father’s bread and yet betrayed -him. Still, Major Guido Amati, I charge you, by your word of honor as a -gentleman, to save this poor girl from my father’s wrath.” - -“Quick, put her in the carriage,” mutters Guy to Bodé Volcker. - -And the Burgomaster, taking his daughter out, Hermoine de Alva -whispers: “See, I have faith in you. How little I believe that you are -libertine and roué. This girl is beautiful. I have placed her in your -hands, for I believe in you as maiden did in knight of old.” - -“By Saint George and the Dragon! you may trust me.” Then Chester, -bending his knee, puts his lips upon the lips held up to him, for he -hears Bodé Volcker’s crying: “Haste!” - -Passing out, the last look that Chester receives from the beautiful -eyes of the lady of his heart is one of ineffable trust, and he knows -that through good report and evil report Hermoine de Alva will believe -in Major Guido Amati de Medina, of Romero’s foot, as her knight and -champion. - -At the carriage door the Burgomaster presses the Englishman’s hand and -whispers: “Every arrangement has been made, drive straight to the -ship,” then falters, “You have her in your hands. As you do by my Mina -may God do by you. Quick! the tide is now just on the first ebb.” - -Driving hastily to the Esperanza Guy, boarding the vessel, finds Olins -ready with the clearance papers of the ship. Then exhibiting his -charter to a custom house officer in waiting, and it being approved, -the vessel casts off hastily from the dock and spreading every sail to -the breeze, for time is very precious now, the ebb tide bears them down -the Schelde. - -About an hour and a half after this the Esperanza has put the Fort of -Lillo behind her and is making for the open ocean, upon which the -sailors of Holland claim dominion over the mercenaries of Alva. - -As he gazes over his quarter at the grinning bombards and culverins of -the Spaniard, Chester draws a long breath of relief. He has escaped -again from Antwerp; the treasure of the Duke is yet unscathed—though he -has gained a hundred kisses—for every one of which he would have risked -his life a hundred times. But his men have had no kisses, and guessing -they have also gained no treasure, are disposed to grumble. - -Soon after this to Chester comes the daughter of the merchant, and -whispers: “God bless you, for saving me from degradation and the -scourge.” - -“You have perfect confidence in me, I hope?” murmurs the Englishman, -looking at the beautiful girl, the fresh sea breeze having brought the -roses back to Mina’s cheek. - -“Yes! You are the friend of Oliver; you would not betray him. You -are”—here Miss Wilhelmina stammers, but smiles—“the—the sweetheart of -one to whom no one could be untrue.” - -“Par Dios! who is she?” says Guy, biting his lip. - -“Doña Hermoine de Alva. Dost remember the bargains I gave to her -duenna, Major Guido Amati de Medina?” And the girl laughs quite -merrily, though not being accustomed to the sea, laughing is just now -becoming a hard matter to her. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD. - - -A few hours after this Chester is at Flushing, now held very strongly -by ’t Zeraerts for the Prince of Orange. - -Finding that the Dover Lass has not returned from Ireland, after some -little trouble with the authorities, who would make a prize of the -Esperanza, did not Chester prove himself “The First of the English” and -a brother Gueux, he very shortly leaves this port. - -Anxious to acquit himself of his promise to Doña Hermoine and deliver -his charge at Haarlem, Guy, hoisting the flag of Orange, anchors in the -course of the next day at Zandvoort. Landing by boat upon the beach -near that little Dutch fishing village, Chester, accompanied by ten of -his tars as escort, makes a pleasant journey of five miles through the -wooded dunes to the river Spaarne, upon which stream lies the pretty -city of Haarlem, basking in the sunshine, its streets filled with -bustling burghers, the bells of its great church pealing triumphantly -Protestant devotion, the women laughing, the children playing about its -neat Dutch homes and gaily colored pentices. - -Coming in to the place by St. Jan’s Gate, which is held strongly by -burgher guard armed with arquebuses and cross bows, Chester is -conducted to Captain Wybout Ripperda, commander of the city, and giving -his name and business, he finds that the “First of the English” is very -well known by reputation in this city of Holland as a friend of the -cause. So very shortly thereafter Guy is permitted to conduct Juffrouw -Bodé Volcker to her relatives, the family of her uncle, one Pieter -Kies, who has made a fortune by his bleaching fields. - -After spending the evening with the prosperous and hospitable -Hollander, he leaves the fair Mina happy and contented, though very -solicitous about the man she loves. - -“If word comes to you of Oliver, you’ll try to let me know,” she -pleads, then says, a tremble in her voice: “God bless you for taking -care of the helpless. Oliver will thank you for it himself if he lives -to meet you,” next smiles: “You are not what you seem to be. You are -not the Spanish captain, you are a patriot, like my bachelor, and -still,” here her eyes open, “you are the bachelor of Alva’s daughter!” -Then seeing consternation on Guy’s face, she adds impulsively: “Trust -me, I’ll keep your secret, for I know every kiss of Doña Hermoine is at -risk of your life.” - -Not altogether satisfied that another has his secret, Chester makes his -way to the pretty little inn of the Swan. There he spends a very -comfortable night between clean sheets (for the Holland hostelries were -very much better than those of Antwerp) mine host being a young, -resolute looking Fleming named Hasselaer. He and his mother, a widow of -about forty, keep the Swan in very good order. - -The next morning, after a pleasant meal, the Englishman repairs to -Captain Ripperda and demands passport for himself and his ten -followers. - -“Certainly,” replies the stout Dutch commander, “I am only happy to be -of assistance to one who is such a friend to our cause. May you return -to us in a happier day.” - -“What could be happier than this?” answers Guy, looking at the pretty -scene of bustling trade and thrifty commerce about him. - -“Drommelsch! it is pleasant enough now,” says the Dutchman, “but God -knows what may come of this war. We are quiet at present, but it is the -quiet before the storm. Every town in Holland save Amsterdam is up in -arms against Alva, and with this attack in his rear by Oliver at Mons, -the news of which has just been brought to us, and with assistance from -French Huguenots, as Condé and Coligny promise us, perchance when the -cloud breaks it will not contain so much thunder and lightning—but God -knows!” - -And God does know what Ripperda does not, for had that stout Dutchman -guessed what was coming to him and his, how they shall soon be eating -the grass in the streets to try to keep their souls in their bodies, -and then only saving themselves ultimately for Alva’s torturers and -executioners, he and every man, woman and child that throng the streets -of happy Haarlem would fly from it, leaving behind their household -goods and their beloved homes as if they were accursed by God. - -But everything is very bright and pleasant now, as Chester makes his -exit through the St. Jan’s Gate and returns to Zandvoort, where, -signaling his vessel, a boat is sent to him and he is soon on board the -Esperanza again, and returning to Flushing there meets the Dover Lass. - -“You left every Spaniard of them safe in Ireland?” Guy says to Dalton. - -“Yes, every mother’s Don of them is safe with the O’Toole. They can -speak Irish by this time,” answers his first officer. - -Chester is greeted with three ringing cheers by the Dover Lasses—cheers -of joy and delight, for their commander has come back with his -life—doubtless he has come back with the gold. - -“Now for the treasure!” cries Dalton, heartily, but his weather-beaten -face grows gloomy as Guy exclaims: “No treasure for the present!” - -Likewise the men are disappointed also, for each of them, when he saw -his captain alive, expected instantly the twenty promised doubloons in -hand. - -Failure makes trouble for Guy, who is compelled to sail to England to -obtain money to pay his crew and to have the keys made. - -In London, though he gets the keys of the Viceroy’s treasure house -manufactured by three very cunning locksmiths and has them carefully -put away in his strong box on the Dover Lass, the treasure house of his -country does not seem to open to him. - -He cannot negotiate a loan with bankers and silver-smiths, for he will -give no hint of where he expects to find the booty he speaks of, and -most of them guess it is the West Indies—a long cruise with great risk -of shipwreck and capture. - -He cannot get aid from Queen Elizabeth, who claps her hands angrily on -her pocket as he petitions for money, and says: “Sir Guy Chester, it is -luck that I leave you with your head! Who robbed my arsenals of powder? -Who but you and that weazen Burleigh? If those Hollanders were not -making it unpleasant for my friend of Alva methinks it would have been -high treason.” - -So Guy, not daring to tell his story of the Duke’s treasure, finds -himself in sorry plight, some of his crew leaving him for other -captains who can pay them advance money. Finally growing desperate, he -comes one day to Lord Burleigh and says to him: “You like money as much -as any man.” - -“You’re right,” replies Burleigh, rubbing his hands. - -“I can’t tell you where I’m going to get this money, but there is a -treasure box to be unlocked by a man willing to risk his life. I am -willing to risk mine. I know where the treasure is.” - -“Where?” - -“That I shall never tell. But you have had my word before about certain -matters and you have found my word was truth. In fact, I’ve made your -name as statesman.” - -“You have made my name as statesman?” - -“Yes, by my advice about the Gueux, you are now called the astute, the -wise, far-seeing old fox Burleigh.” - -“Yes, at the risk of my weazen head,” replies his lordship, glumly. -“Nevertheless you want to talk to me about—money?” - -“Yes! Advance me six thousand crowns and if I come back alive I’ll pay -you sixty thousand—ten for one. You’d better make it ten thousand -crowns, then you’ll have a hundred thousand. It is like dicing. I risk -my life, you risk your money.” - -“I value my ten thousand crowns more than you do your life,” chuckles -his lordship, and sends him away. - -But about this time Francis Drake, happening to come back from the -Spanish Main, his vessel heavily laden with silver ingots from some -captured galleon, and Guy having set report afloat that his treasure is -also in the West Indies, his lordship, in the course of a few days, -sends after Chester and tells him that he cannot advance the money -himself, but for a commission he can get certain London merchants to -advance ten thousand crowns at the terms of payment Guy has offered. - -With a jump the young man accepts, and this sum of money being turned -over to him, refits his vessel, fills up his crew to fighting strength, -which is easy as most of his best men, headed by Dalton and Croker, -have never left him, and sets sail for the Netherlands, notwithstanding -it is wintry weather now, to arrive in Flushing early in December. Here -he has hardly dropped anchor when surprises come upon him. - -A boat boards him from the shore and Achille, who now acts as cabin -boy, comes screaming down the hatch-way: “Monsieur Oliver! My master, -the painter Oliver!” - -In a jump, and with a shout of joy, Chester is on deck, and Englishman -as he is, permits himself to be embraced and kissed, even in sight of -his grinning crew for it is Oliver, and he is as one returned from the -dead, as Alva has recaptured Mons and gibbeted most of its defenders. - -“Come in the cabin and tell me your news. You’re no artist now, you’re -only a fighting man,” mutters Guy with a mighty grip of the hand and -watery look in his eye, as he gazes on Antony. - -“Tell me your news—what of the woman I love?” cries the painter. - -“Safe.” - -“Thank God!” - -“Come in, I’ll tell you.” - -In the cabin, each gives to the other revelation that astounds him. -Oliver tells of his capture of Mons, how he himself slew the gatekeeper -on guard at daybreak as his eight men, concealed in vegetables, and -drawn in market carts, passed into the town; how Louis of Nassau, who -was in waiting in the wood outside with five hundred horsemen, each -with a footman mounted behind, got in, Oliver and his eight heroes -holding the gate against the Spanish garrison until they passed the -drawbridge. Then the details of Alva’s siege against them; how they -hoped for success, having been promised succor from France; next the -news of the fête of Catharine de Medici, the awful massacre of St. -Bartholomew, when all the best blood of the Huguenots flooded the -streets of Paris, and no aid of the dead Coligny could come to them; -how Orange was beaten in his attempt to relieve them; how finally he, -Oliver, Louis of Nassau, and some others escaped from Alva’s clutches, -who, now having no fear of France, with every Huguenot chief struck -down, is gathering together a great army of Spanish mercenaries to make -the conquest of Holland, intending to use Amsterdam as his center, it -being the only town in his hands. - -“By the by,” says Guy, “speaking of Spaniards, have you heard anything -of our friend, Major Guido Amati?” - -“Colonel Guido Amati.” - -“The deuce you say—promoted?” - -“Yes. You’re a step nearer the Viceroy’s daughter,” laughs Antony. -“Haven’t you heard? When Mondragon a month ago raised the siege of -Tergoes, Major Guido Amati, heading the Spanish infantry, marched at -night across the flooded Drowned Lands of South Beveland, where one -step from the path meant drowning, where one hour’s delay in making -that four hours’ crossing meant death by the rising tide, and so came -in the darkness to rise in front of ’t Zeraert’s soldiers as if by -magic in the morning, crossing a place we thought passable by only -fishes or birds. For that march Mondragon reported Major Guido Amati -for promotion. It was immediately granted; it generally takes a year. -So you see you have been doing very well. Probably Doña de Alva is very -proud of you now.” - -“Thank God,” laughs Guy, “my villain namesake has got to fighting -again, and I’ll probably behave myself,” then says: “Have you heard of -her?” - -“No, except she is still as beautiful as ever, but more haughtily cold. -Even Noircarmes, it is rumored, scowls and twists his mustachios when -Doña de Alva’s name is mentioned. Now tell me of my love.” - -On this, Guy, giving an account of his curious morning in Antwerp and -how he had taken, by Doña de Alva’s command, Mina Bodé Volcker from -torture and disgrace, Oliver, with tears in his eyes, cries out: “God -bless her and curse her father. How can so tender a heart have Alva for -a father?” - -A moment after he adds, somewhat anxiously: “Where did you take my -Mina?” - -“To Haarlem.” - -“Haarlem!” This is a wailing shriek. “Good God, man, why did you do -that?” - -“Her father sent her there to her relative, Pieter Kies.” - -“Haarlem!” The painter is transfixed with horror. “It is almost now -surrounded!” he groans. “Haarlem! it is the town Alva has sworn to let -no living man, woman nor child escape from. Haarlem! Haarlem! My God! -Is she still there?” - -“I don’t know. I left her there, safe and happy waiting for you—her -last words were of you.” - -“Haarlem! we must get there. We must try to save her. It is especially -decreed that all refugees there shall have the torture as well as -death. My Mina is a refugee. Help me, Englishman—you put my love into -the fire—help me draw her forth!” moans Oliver, in almost unreasoning -anguish. - -“Don’t reproach me,” mutters Guy. “I did the best I could for her. But -I’ll help you get her out—with my life I’ll help you get her out.” - -“God bless you,” cries Oliver. “And your crew?” - -“They follow me.” - -“God bless them!” - -Then forgetting his treasure and turning once more his back upon his -love he hungers for, Guy departs with his painter friend, who has now -become a warrior, upon their errand of rescue that to succeed must be -immediate. - -Dalton remarks to Guy as he receives orders to hoist the anchor and -sail for the North: “This is hardly fair to those who assisted you with -money, Captain Chester.” - -“Friendship before commerce—my friend’s happiness before the fortune of -English bankers and usurers!” answers his commander. “Dalton, you have -a sweetheart in England; what would you do to save her from Alva’s -troops?” - -“Fight ’till I died.” - -“Then, man, my friend has his betrothed in Haarlem!” - -“Then I’ll fight for his sweetheart, too,” cries the rough lieutenant; -and this story passing about the Dover Lass, the men sharpen their -cutlasses and battle axes and give three cheers, singing in their -cheery British way: - - - “We’re going to fight for Portsmouth Poll.” - - -The next day they make Delft, and find there is no chance of getting to -Haarlem by way of Leyden. Here also they learn of the awful massacre at -Naarden, five hundred burghers killed in the church, the rest of the -inhabitants butchered by one means or another. The details are not -complete, the affrighted peasants dare not visit the place from which -comes up the wail of women and children heard three miles away. It is -the Dutch town in the hands of Spanish soldiery, given up to loot and -spoil, murder and ravage; it is the same tale as Mechlen, as Zutphen, -the same tale wherever Alva’s veterans conquer. - -This makes Oliver desperate. He shudders at what he hears, but whispers -with pale lips to Guy: “Our only chance is to get into the Zuyder Zee -and by it into the Y and above Haarlem. That way is yet open.” - -“Perhaps!” returns Guy, doubtfully, “But it’s taking desperate chances. -Both going and returning we’ve got to sneak past Amsterdam, where Alva -is with all his army and probably war ships besides.” - -“Mon Dieu! You’re not going to desert her?” cries the Franco-Fleming -pathetically. - -“No, but I must be sure she is in Haarlem before I risk the lives of my -men in such desperate service. It is December, the ice will shortly be -forming.” - -Making inquiries, Chester soon discovers the last man who has come in -from Haarlem, a wild-eyed wretch, half dazed with fear, for he has just -escaped several patrols of Spanish, who hang up or slaughter in some -cruel way all they meet. - -To their questioning he answers: “Yes, I was in Haarlem—but I’ve -escaped with my life—you see—with my life. I saw the smoke of Naarden -burning, I heard the wail—” - -“But Haarlem!” cuts in Guy. “Answer my questions quick and I will give -you money.” For the poor wretch is destitute and dependent upon public -alms. “Do you know one Pieter Kies?” - -“Of course, one of the town council.” - -“Is he there?” - -“Yes.” - -“Is there staying with him a fair-haired girl, with bright blue eyes?” - -“Oh, you mean the sweetheart of the patriot painter, the one they honor -in the name of Oliver of Mons.” - -This settles the matter. Oliver goes to screaming in his French way: -“Nom de Dieu! there’ll be no mercy for her, Mina will be tortured -because I love her,” then whispers hoarsely to Guy: “Save her, -Englishman! If you call yourself my friend, save her.” - -“I’ll do everything man can.” - -“Then quick! Hoist anchor and get under way for the Zuyder Zee! Speed -is her safety.” - -“For this affair I must make preparation,” answers Chester, who greatly -doubts the wisdom of this move. - -“Preparation? Have we not arms and powder! Hurry, as I love her! -HURRY!” begs Antony. - -Spurred by his friend’s despairing words, Chester makes quick but -accurate provision for this trip. He first looks about for pilot -knowing the inland waters in which he is to sail his ship, and quickly -engages a harum-scarum Friesland freebooter called ’t Hoen (Anglice the -Chicken). This man at once orders the Dover Lass to be lightened as -much as possible. - -“Six inches draught of water, more or less, may mean our lives over the -Zuydergat,” says ’t Hoen, who, with all his wildness, is a calculating -seaman. - -So the Dover Lass is made flying light; provisions, water, ammunition, -is all she carries. - -Then, though the sailors jeer, ’t Hoen calls out: “How many of you -skate?” - -“Oho! this is a (winter) garden party with dames and wenches and -lighted fires upon the ice,” jeers the boatswain. - -Without giving answer to this ’t Hoen goes off and buys for every man -that can perform upon them a pair of long, sharp Friesland skates. -Bringing these on board the ship he says, “Captain Chester, we’ll run -away with these if the worst comes to the worst,” which gives Corker a -glum face, he not liking the idea of deserting ship even to save his -life. - -These preparations are made with such energy by Chester and his men -that they are delayed at Delft scarce four hours. - -Crowding sail upon the Dover Lass they the next day enter that ocean -lake of Holland called the Zuyder Zee, and passing Enkhuyzen, get news -that Alva is preparing to cut off Haarlem from succor and provisions. - -That evening, getting off Amsterdam, they lie off and on, ready to -sneak past the place in the darkness into the Y, and by the next -morning would reach Haarlem before Alva and save the girl from the -danger of the siege. - -But that night the providence of God in numbing, freezing weather and -chilling breath just from the Arctic, is upon them. The placid water -becomes ice. The breeze is not strong enough to give them headway to -crush through it. - -The next morning all about them is a vast sheet of deep blue ice, and -imprisoned within it is their vessel and three others of the Gueux, -fortunately all near together, perhaps bound upon a similar errand. -They are now helpless, they cannot retreat, they cannot go forward. - -The city of Amsterdam, filled with Alva’s army, is looking at them, -only four miles away. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -THE BATTLE ON SKATES. - - -Oliver comes down excitedly from the masthead and whispers: “I can see -the spire of the great church at Haarlem. We’re only twenty miles away -from—the woman I love—hurry.” - -“If the ice holds,” mutters Guy, “we’ll get to the next world before -Haarlem. We can only stay here and die on our vessels. The Spaniards -will come over the ice to attack us. We shall be overwhelmed by -numbers.” - -“We must have counsel with our brother Gueux,” says ’t Hoen. “Come with -me. You can skate, First of the English?” - -“Very well,” answers Guy. “Will the ice hold?” - -“Yes, infantry now, by night accursed Spanish cannon.” - -So buckling on sharp iron Friesland skates, the two fly over the smooth -frozen Zuyder Zee, and in a few seconds are at the vessels of the -Gueux. Here holding quick consultation, the captains decide to fight it -out to the death together, no matter what force is brought against -them; surrender would be suicide. - -A few minutes more and they make up their minds just how to do this -fighting, and electing Guy commander-in-chief, he takes action very -quickly. In five minutes not only the crew of the Dover Lass are on the -ice, but the crews of the other Gueux vessels, amounting in all to -about five hundred men, and are working for their lives with ice picks, -crowbars, ice saws and any and every implement they can use, cutting a -passage around the three Gueux vessels and a water lane from the Dover -Lass to bring her up to them. - -By almost superhuman exertions, in something like three hours they have -not only got the Dover Lass in company with the other Gueux vessels, -but have cut out the ice immediately surrounding them, making the -vessels float as in a little inland lake, though surrounded by an -impenetrable floe. - -Next getting the four vessels in the form of a parallelogram, they lash -them stem and stern all round—making the broadside of each ship one -side of a floating citadel. Then putting out grappling irons and small -anchors set in the ice, to which are attached cables they moor their -ships strongly to prevent drifting against the ice and giving chance -for boarding. - -“Pardieu!” exclaims Oliver. “This is a new idea. They can’t get at us.” - -“Not a man of them can board our ships if our cables hold so as to -prevent drift and we can keep the ice broken,” answers Guy. - -At this work they all set themselves, toiling watch and watch and -finding it tremendous labor, for the cold still continues, and the ice -grows thicker and more resisting. - -So they are all happy when the lookout from his chilly post at the -masthead cries: “They’re coming!” and gazing over the frozen field they -see some fifteen hundred picked Spanish and Walloon infantry tramping -their slippery path to give them death. - -This seems an easy task to the attacking party—vessels imprisoned in -the ice—they look for a cool, comfortable butchery of their crews. And -they come on in that confident manner with which Spanish infantry -always met the Dutch, until after ten years of hard fighting the -Hollanders had made themselves as good troops on land as any infantry -in Europe. - -But on the sea the Dutch are at home; so with their -guns—demi-culverins, falcons and falconettes—loaded to their nozzles -with arquebus bullets and nails and scraps of iron; with pikes and -battle axes ready to hand, they look quite confidently and eagerly from -their wooden citadel floating upon this ice-bound lake. - -This moat of ice cold water will give Alva’s veterans more difficulty -in escalade than the deepest fosse of any walled town they have stormed -within the Netherlands. But not guessing what is before them, and the -weather being bracing, the Spanish arquebusiers come on with a cheer, -their commander apparently giving order for quick time. - -“Thank God, these fellows are not going to keep us waiting long,” -laughs Guy, beating his mailed hands together, “a steel bodice and -metal hose are not over comfortable this December weather.” - -This is Sir Guy Chester’s first fight since he has been dubbed Knight, -and he is in full panoply, helmet, plumes and visor, breast-plate and -back piece, even to golden spurs, the badge of his order. This ice -slippery deck is not as convenient for displaying his Italian armor as -the back of dashing war-horse on a tented field, but the age of -chivalry has not quite passed away—knighthood still means military -nobility—the gilded spurs still indicate blue blood and ‘daring -do’—what youth could resist wearing its insignia—not Guy Chester. His -crew cheer his gallant appearance, knowing well that underneath his -Milan mail is a leader they can trust and follow. - -“Oho!” screams Oliver, with sudden mercurial laugh. “See! The Spanish -dogs are tumbling over each other. This will be a slippery affair.” - -“Yes, and a bloody one—for them,” mutters Dawson savagely, sword in -hand. - -And it is! - -The little fleet, not firing a gun, let their opponents come close to -them. But as the Spanish infantry charge their front rank suddenly -discovers that it is fighting in water instead of on the ice. Every man -of them has to drop his arms to swim for his life, which is rather -freezing work this December day. - -“We’ll warm them up,” cries Guy, as the guns of the Dover Lass’s -starboard battery open on the mass of struggling, drowning men. So also -the Dutch ships. - -But Alva’s Spanish infantry on land or sea are not to be defeated in a -moment. The officer in command deploys a number of his men as -skirmishers, and they, with their arquebuses, open on the ships. Soon -balls are whistling over the bulwarks and through the rigging of the -Dover Lass in stinging volleys, as well as scattering shots. - -Others of the Spaniards crawling upon the ice try to get at the cables -holding the vessels to cut them from their moorings, so they will drift -to one side or the other of the lake and become accessible to escalade -and boarding. Then Guy, going forward to the forecastle to direct his -men to use their arquebuses defending their cables from attack, finds -it is well that he is in knightly armor. Were it not for his steel -breastplate some Spanish sharpshooters had done for him. Two bullets -flatten against his armor and one sweeps the plume from his helmet. - -But the cables are kept taut, and those who venture against them in -this desperate service are all shot down and the broadside of the Dover -Lass still thunders, scourging the ice with bullets. - -All does not go so well upon the other side of the floating fortress; -by great exertions and much loss of men the Spaniards at last succeed -in cutting one Gueux cable; unable to withstand the additional strain -another anchor pulls out of the ice, and the wooden citadel drifts -against the solid floe. - -Now is the Spaniards chance; in a moment they have their boarding -ladders planted against the ship whose deck the Dover Lass’s bow -overlooks, for she is a smaller craft. - -As the Spaniards swarm up the ladders to fight their way upon the -Dutchman’s deck—Guy calls his boarders and they spring to the -assistance of their assaulted comrades—the other Gueux vessels sending -detachments also to the deck of this vessel, which now becomes the -focus of the fight. - -Once by very force of numbers the Spaniards gain the quarter-deck of -the Dutch ship, and shouting with triumph, think the day is theirs; but -the murdering-pieces on the vessel’s own forecastle and two from the -bow of the Dover Lass drown this cry with their reports as they cut -lanes in the cheering mass. Then with a rush from the other vessels—the -deck is regained, but only partially—as Alva’s veterans fight as if -they were never to be beaten—their leader bearing a charmed life. - -Twice he and Guy have crossed swords, but have been swept away from -each other by the surging tide of battle—which is again turning to -numbers, and the Spaniards. The cannon of the boarded ship are now of -little use, and the guns of the other vessels will not bear upon this -side of the fight—the day is looking badly for the Beggars of the Sea. - -But as Guy fights he thinks, and suddenly returning to his own ship, -cries out: “Load up two demi-culverins with solid shot and get them on -our forecastle.” - -This being done by Corker and some men, Chester directs these cannon -not at the Spaniards, but at the ice upon which the Spanish boarding -ladders rest. - -The first discharge puts fifty men and their ladders in the water. -“We’ll drown them quicker than we’ll kill them!” yell the English -sailors—and a few more rounds settle the affair—the ice is destroyed -under the very feet of the Spaniards, and floundering in the water’s -chilling grasp, a hundred veterans sink. - -The others give back. This icy citadel is too hard a nut for them to -crack. - -Looking on the matter as a bad job that he can only make worse by -continuing, the Spanish commander, apparently unwounded, gives the -order to retire, and his veterans drawing off slowly and taking their -slightly wounded with them, turn their faces toward Amsterdam. - -Noting in their slippery path many of his enemies fall even as they -trudge along the ice, ’t Hoen, who is laughing at them, suddenly -shouts: “We mustn’t let a man of them escape. After them, on skates! -After them on skates!” he cries to the Dutch captains of the other -vessels. - -This idea seeming to strike the Hollanders to a man, the English who -are capable of executing manœuvers on the ice join with them, and in -less than five minutes Guy puts on the glassy field by his boats a -party of seventy-five from the Dover Lass, each man armed with arquebus -and sword or pike and battle axe, and each with Friesland skates upon -his feet. - -Even Oliver, who can hardly keep his head off the ice, accompanies -them. The Dutch captains bring yet larger parties, all their men being -proficient in this national pastime of Holland. - -The Spaniards, totally unexpecting pursuit, are making their way slowly -to the city, not even looking back, for the sight behind them of dead -men drowned or butchered, and wounded comrades who are crawling, -slipping and freezing on the ice, is not pleasant. - -“These maimed cannot escape us,” cries Maarten Merens, one of the Dutch -captains, “we’ll finish the wounded at our leisure. On for those who -are not hurt,” and the Gueux speed on like swallows in their flight. - -So it comes to pass that the Spanish commander hears behind him -suddenly a whirring sound as the irons cut the ice, and looking -backward, skimming like birds, come four hundred Dutch and English, not -half the number he is bringing back. - -Turning his men he would form them to receive attack, but they are not -quick enough. The rapid skates bear the Dutch and English upon them -like charge of cavalry, the slippery ice impedes them, and in a minute -the Spanish formation is dashed to pieces, the ice becoming the scene -of hundreds of individual combats, the Hollanders and the English -having the best of it, attacking whom they like, retreating when they -please. - -It is a funny affair, though blood flows like water, and men die -shaking with merriment—the guffaws mingling with death shrieks. Guy -himself, as he cuts down a man, laughs at the fellow’s headless corpse -turning a somersault upon the slippery ice. One Spaniard running, -pursued by a Dutch skater, throws himself desperately upon the ice, and -the Dutchman goes headlong over him, but being quick with his feet, -gives his antagonist a lucky jab in the eye with his sharp Friesland -skate, and the Spaniard is dead before the Dutchman recovers his feet. - -After the first rush, Guy’s eye is on the leader of the Spanish troops, -and the leader of the Spanish troops has his eye on him. - -Till now the Castilian has fought very silently and very deadly; though -not accustomed to the ice, his skill at fence is so great that two or -three Dutchmen have gone down before him wounded, and one English -sailor will never see his mother again, by force of his Toledo blade. - -The Spaniard now cries: “Come on, I know you. You are the First of the -English. Come on, and though you have wings, I’ll clip them!” - -This kind of a challenge is not to be ignored by English knight. It is -a kind that prevailed in the days of chivalry, not quite faded out of -England, and Chester accepts it. - -Then the two come together, the Englishman’s heavy sword giving play -against the more subtle and delicate point of the Toledo, and were not -Guy armored in steel this day would be the last of him. - -The Spaniard has a wrist of steel and his sword’s play is of the finest -Italian school; but Guy makes his heels save his head. This angers the -Spaniard, and he grinds his teeth—while Chester deftly “grinds the -bar,” a skater’s trick that enables him to circle round the Castilian, -giving him two cuts that even his skill of fence can hardly parry. - -The next shoot round his enemy Guy gets his blade on his man, wounding -him slightly. But carried forward in making a cut, one of Sir Guy -Chester’s knightly spurs catches in his skates and he were lost did he -not by quick action drop sitting down on both skates and glide from his -antagonist. - -He is half a hundred yards away before he turns to find himself face to -face with poor little Ensign de Busaco, who is having a hard time of -it, being slightly wounded; his heavy Jack boots impeding his progress -on the ice. - -Chester is just in time to recognize the little Spanish ensign and save -his life, as two or three Beggars of the Sea are almost upon him, and -in another minute De Busaco would sleep with his fathers. - -The instinct of comradeship born in Antwerp is in Guy’s heart, and his -right arm knocks up two pikes that lunge at the little ensign, he -crying to him: “Surrender to me; surrender to me, fool!” For the little -Spaniard, with drawn sword, is striving to do his best for himself. - -But just at this moment, taking lounge en tierce, the poor little -fellow’s legs fly under him and his head goes down with a tremendous -crack upon the ice that would stun him were it not for his steel -head-piece. - -“He’s mine!” says Guy, beating back the swords; “He is my prisoner. -Surrender, you idiot Busaco!” - -“I yield,” says De Busaco, sullenly. Then he suddenly smiles and cries: -“Mon Dieu! Captain Guido Amati! Yes, I surrender to you. What ransom -shall I pay to save my life? You’re not going to kill me, are you?” - -“No, Busaco, you are safe. Twice you saved my life, and didn’t know it. -Now I save yours.” - -“Yes,” says the other; “that was curious, wasn’t it? Captain Guido -Amati! From the flag flying at your masthead you are now called the -First of the English?” - -It is a foolish speech and nearly costs him dear, for the Englishman -knows that this recognition, if reported at Spanish headquarters, means -no more chance of Guido Amati’s interviews with Alva’s daughter. He -says: “Yes, the First of the English, but no ransom from you.” - -“No ransom,” mutters De Busaco, “I suppose you are going to kill me -because I know your secret?” - -“No! Swear to me by everything upon this earth you will never recognize -me as the First of the English, were I to stand in Alva’s own hall -before you. There’s five thousand crowns upon my head; but swear you’ll -never know me as First of the English, only as Guido Amati.” - -“I swear it by this cross my mother gave me,” says the little Ensign, -putting crucifix to his lips. Then he laughs and adds: “The oath wasn’t -necessary. I had known this before.” - -“When—how long!” - -“Ever since three weeks ago I met the real Colonel Guido Amati. You’ve -been promoted, you know.” - -“And you never mentioned this, even to Amati himself?” - -“No—to no living soul!” - -“Why not?” - -“Santos! it involved the secret of a lady.” - -“God bless you,” says Guy, hugging his prisoner to his heart. “It did, -perchance, involve the good name, but not the honor, of a lady.” - -“Oh, every one knows that Doña de Alva is a saint. Funny, she should -love you. Curious—” - -But they have no time to discuss it further. Chester seizes the young -man by the hand, drags him over the ice, and to ensure his safety goes -with him almost to Amsterdam. In this, Guy almost endangers his own -life, for Spanish troops come out to meet them; so he leaves his charge -with a squeeze of the hand and a “God bless you. Remember!” - -“Don’t doubt me. I’ve seen her look at you. I know she loves you, and -no one would injure her heart—but look out, my men are coming!” cries -De Busaco. - -Turning back on his skates Chester makes for his ship, near which he -finds Antony and two or three others bending over the body of the -Spanish officer Guy had left so suddenly. - -“They killed him after you went on,” remarks Oliver. “I have kept them -away from his body because of you. He was a very gallant gentleman.” - -“Because of me?” cries Guy. “Do you think I will gloat over a fallen -hero. Still if accident had not come to me I should have finished him -myself, I think, though he had a rare sword’s play in his arm.” - -“That would have been horrible,” says the painter. - -“Why?” - -“You would have committed suicide.” - -“Suicide! What do you mean?” - -“I mean that there will be weeping soon from eyes you love, when your -death is reported to her.” - -“Buffoon! What do you mean?” - -“I mean that this is Colonel Guido Amati, the man Hermoine de Alva -thinks you are!” - -“Good heavens!” says Chester, bending over the dead man. - -“I’ve searched his person and taken his valuables; not for myself, but -for transmission to his family,” adds the painter; “but this letter -concerns you.” - -Hastily looking at the document by the light of the Northern sun that -is sinking in the west, Chester gives a sudden start. It is in the -handwriting he knows and loves, and has seen so little of, but does not -forget, and reads: - - - “God bless you, gallant one; you have become a Colonel. That - promotion was quick, wasn’t it? That was my doing. A word of advice - to you, my hero. Capture or slay the First of the English, and you - are sure to be a general; that will bring you to the church door, - where Hermoine awaits you.” - - -“Good God! This is horrible,” mutters Guy. “Sent by the woman I love to -kill me. And now she will weep for him.” - -“Yes, and the more she weeps for him the dearer she loves you. You’re -not dead yet. Oh, wonderful transformation scene. Fancy Hermoine’s eyes -when she sees the dead alive. Oh God! if I could look upon the eyes of -my love who is over there,” Oliver points toward Haarlem. “Guy, help me -to save her.” - -A moment after Antony suddenly cries: “Mon Dieu! what’s the matter with -you?” for the Englishman is leaning heavily on him, and is muttering: -“A—a bullet must have got through my breast-plate!” - -Tearing off the steel the painter finds it has, though the wound is not -a deep one. - -Continued loss of blood through all his violent exertions makes him -faint and weak, and Chester is carried upon his ship. - -The Dutch captains yet look very solemn; if this cold continues, the -ice will still enclose their vessels and they must be attacked by the -great army at Amsterdam, who will never forgive them now they have -slain four hundred of the best Spanish troops. - -“It will take miracles to save us now!” remarks ’t Hoen. “The tide must -rise—the wind must come—the ice must melt all at one time. It has -happened, but no man has ever seen it, so I suppose old Jan Veeder, our -dominé, would call it a miracle—Jan Veeder, who will preach my funeral -sermon next week!” - -But that very night the providence of God that sent the cold, gives -them one chance of escape, the last of that winter, for the miracle -does happen. The strong wind and high tide and mild thawing weather -come together and the tide is high enough for them to pass over the -Pampus. The wind blows the sea about smashing the rotten ice and -bellies out their sails as the four ships, setting every rag they can -carry, beat their way to the north, and the next morning are safe in -their harbor of Enkhuyzen. - -But Chester knows very little about this. He is raving with the fever -of his wound. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -THE BERSERKER OATH. - - -In the course of time Chester recovers from Spanish bullet wound, -though not very rapidly, the surgery of that day being crude, -unscientific and quite often deadly. When he regains his strength he -finds the Dover Lass frozen in at the harbor of Enkhuyzen. - -Guy perceives they have made a terrible mistake in sailing to the -northward. Had they remained at Delft they would probably by this time -have got the girl out of Haarlem over the frozen lake. - -Now, between them and the hapless city stands the great dyke along the -Y, patrolled by Alva’s soldiers, protected by Alva’s forts, cutting off -North Holland effectually from giving succor to the besieged. - -His vessel will be useless for several months on account of the ice, -and besought by Oliver, who has divided his time between nursing his -wounded comrade and making desperate attempts to elude the vigilance of -Alva’s troops and get to Haarlem, Chester finally makes his way across -Waterland to Egmont. Here Diederick Sonoy, who holds North Holland for -the Prince of Orange, is getting together an expedition to attack the -Diemerdyk at some vulnerable point and fortify it, cutting off -Amsterdam and the Spaniards from supplies, as they have been cutting -off Haarlem. - -“Pardieu!” remarks Oliver, as they make the journey over frozen lakes -and by villages half buried in snow, “if I had had my altar piece with -me I could have finished it between skirmishes. I’ve done nothing for -my art, nothing—even for my love.” He wrings his hands desperately. - -“What have I done for mine?” mutters Guy. - -“Diable!” says the painter, who guesses what is in his companion’s -mind. Alva’s treasure will be undisturbed until the Duke leaves the Low -Countries. Not even riot of unpaid troops will make him disgorge it. It -is salted down for the winter. - -“You are sure the Duke has no hint of your having the keys made?” -interjects Guy uneasily. - -“Certainly not—for I never had them manufactured—I felt I was suspected -even when I reached Malines—so I gave no order about the keys, and -before I fled from Brussels destroyed the drafts,” answers Oliver. A -moment after he adds, with a smile: “As for Alva’s daughter, she is -probably mourning for Colonel Guido Amati de Medina.” - -This idea of her grieving for his death makes Guy desperate, and he is -crazy to get within glance of Hermoine’s bright eyes. This is almost -impossible until the ice leaves his vessel free. - -To kill time he takes to killing Spaniards, joining the expedition -Sonoy on the very first indication of spring gets together for the -assault on the Diemerdyk. - -This consists of a number of galleys and flat-bottomed boats filled -with eight hundred soldiers, which moves soon after the frost of winter -passes away and the inland waters become navigable. - -The point of attack has been carefully selected where the dyke is -narrowest and most susceptible of defense against troops coming from -Amsterdam. On one side of the little narrow causeway are the waters of -the Y, on the other is the Diemer Lake, cutting off Amsterdam from -Muyden, and provisions and supplies coming from Utrecht and the South. - -The attack is sudden and unexpected. The Spanish patrols, taken by -surprise, are easily driven off, and Sonoy, cutting the dyke, strongly -entrenches himself upon the narrow causeway, thinks the deed is done, -and goes off smilingly to Edam for reinforcements. - -As for Oliver, joy is in his soul. He can see the spire of the Haarlem -Groote Kerk not twenty miles away, and thinks he and his love will soon -press lips again. - -But this cutting off of his supplies makes the Spanish governor at -Amsterdam desperate. He forthwith despatches a great force of -arquebusiers and pikemen together with two hand-drawn cannon along the -causeway, and the Seigneur de Billy, a tried veteran of many campaigns, -commander at Muyden, sends four hundred Walloon infantry to attack upon -the other side. - -These, together with a force of Spanish armed galleys and bateaux, -unfortunately make the assault during Sonoy’s absence. His troops, -though brave, are without supreme commander. They are composed chiefly -of the crews of the Gueux vessels, the commander of each one wishing to -dominate the others. Thus disputing among themselves, they resist the -attack without discipline and mutual support. - -The consequence is that when the cannon open upon them they are not -charged and captured as they must be, and soon solid shot smash the -hastily thrown up defenses of the Dutch. Already some of the Gueux have -abandoned the dyke and taken to their bateaux and flat-bottomed boats -to defend them against the Spanish galleys, as well as to be ready to -escape. - -“We must charge the guns,” cries Chester. And he and Oliver, followed -by some fifty desperate men, make the effort. Getting over their -breastwork they plunge into the Spanish spearmen, and with push of pike -cut their way to one gun, and, were they supported, would be, -perchance, successful, though every step costs a life. But they are not -reinforced, and are finally driven back, losing a man at every foot of -dyke, the Spaniards butchering the wounded. - -From this melée Guy Chester drags out, stricken unto death, his friend -the painter. Struggling to the entrenchment, he finds it deserted; all -the men who should defend it having fled to near-by boats—save one, -John Haring, from the town of Horn. Hero-like, he has planted himself -in the narrowest part of the causeway before the coming foe and holds -the place armed only with sword and shield, against a thousand veterans -of Alva’s army. Fortunately these can only get at him one or two at a -time, as the dyke is very narrow and the deep water of the Diemer Lake -is on one side of it, and the rapid waters of the Y flow on the other. - -Haring’s defense gives Guy breathing time. - -Bending over his friend, he mutters between clenched teeth: “Don’t -fear! These dogs of Spaniards shan’t get you alive.” Then he brushes -the death sweat from his comrade’s brow, and with great sighs looks -upon the face he loves growing ashen and its lips becoming blue. - -These open now in gasping, broken speech: “Save yourself.” - -“And you, too!” - -“Save yourself!” Oliver’s eyes have an agony in them that is not all -the agony of death. “Save yourself to save my love. Swear to me, Guido, -my friend, to save her!” - -“That was done already,” whispers Guy hurriedly; “What else?” - -“Only—but you are—not an—artist. Ehu! I would have liked—to have -finished my—altar piece. I see—real—angels—now—” - -The last word is breathed upon the air in dying sigh, as Antony Oliver -turns his blue eyes to heaven and his patriot soul goes where there are -real angels and the true Madonna. - -Then Chester raises his bloodshot eyes to find his strait almost as -desperate as the dead man’s. The Spaniards are charging them both front -and rear. The Dutch bateaux have all been driven half a mile away; on -the Y side Spanish vessels intervene and cut off all retreat. - -Guy gives one quick glance seeking chance of life, and finds it on the -Diemer Lake. Some fifty yards from shore is a small shallop that, -belonging to the Spanish patrol surprised at the place, has been cut -from its moorings during the fight; it is the only boat on the Diemer -side. - -With the instinct of emergency he springs beside Haring, crying: -“There’s our only chance!” - -Together they make one quick, dashing onslaught on the Spaniards to -gain time for the plunge, then spring into the Diemer. As they -disappear a shout of rage goes up from Alva’s mercenaries, and Spanish -arquebus balls splash the water all about them. But rising from their -dive side by side and stroke by stroke, they make the boat, and -assisting each other, clamber in, and taking oars, are soon out of -shot. - -Then chancing to gaze at the dyke Guy shudders and turns away his head. - -“They’re cutting his head off,” whispers Haring. “It’s worth two -thousand caroli at Alva’s tent.” - -Guy knows whose head the Dutch sailor means, and his soul grows very -hard and cruel to the Spaniards. But this only adds to his resolve to -keep his vow to his dead comrade, even at the cost of life. - -“It was a Berserker oath,” he mutters, “but I’ll keep it.” And gazes at -his foes who have done his friend to death with something of that noble -madness that burned in the Berserker’s veins, that rage to slay his -enemies without thought of life, that exultation to kill, no matter -whether he goes down or no, so long as he has his fill of slaughter and -revenge. - -But the Dutch sailor’s voice brings fighting from the romantic to the -matter of fact basis. He says: “Captain Chester, we’re in a bad way. -We’re on the wrong side of the Diemerdyk. Without weapons we’re in a -bad way. We can’t recross it to our friends, for the whole causeway is -now lined by those infernal Spanish troops. But, we’ve sent a few of -them ahead of us to-day, and will do for a few more before they do for -us, though we’ve only got teeth and nails to do it with,” the two -having been compelled to throw away their arms to gain the boat. - -“We’re not on the wrong side of the Diemerdyk,” Guy returns stoutly. -“At least, I am not.” - -“Why?” asks Haring, opening his eyes. - -“Because I go to Haarlem, and you’re the man to take me there. You know -all this country?” - -“Every drop of water, every grain of sand in it. That’s why I fight for -it.” - -“Then you, perhaps, know some way by which we can get from here to the -Haarlem Lake.” - -“Without arms?” says the Dutchman. “It’ll be difficult; we can’t fight, -and I—I hate to run from Spaniards!” - -“Fly now, sneak next, fight afterwards,” mutters Guy, “and we’ve got to -be quick about it.” For the Spaniards are attempting to get a boat -across the causeway to pursue them. Fortunately there are two pairs of -oars in their boat, which is a light one, and bending to these Haring -and Chester take course toward the southwest end of the little Diemer -pond, scarce two miles in length. - -They are now safe from immediate pursuit, as the Spaniards, seeing them -row away, have desisted in their efforts to get a boat over the dyke; -so the two go into hasty consultation. - -“It’s impossible to escape that way,” explains Haring, pointing to the -east, where the Utrecht road borders the lake. “That’s too heavily -patrolled. We may get out at the west where the lake joins the river -Amstel. It’s only a mile south of Amsterdam; they have guard boats -there.” - -This is the direction in which Guy wants to go, and he eagerly assents -to this proposition, suggesting: “In the waterways and lakes with which -this country is covered is there not some route by which we can get -ourselves in this boat to the Haarlem meer?” - -“Yes, there’s one way,” replies Haring. “But the first six miles will -be with our lives in our hands. The last twelve miles will be in the -debatable land where we may meet enemies and have to fight them, or -friends who will give us succor. If we had arms,” mutters the -Hollander, “we would have a fighting chance to get to Haarlem Lake, and -then a running one of dodging Alva’s vessels.” - -“Arms!” mutters Guy, “you have your sailor’s knife, and I have got my -poniard.” - -“Voor den duivel! Then this affair goes with poniards and knives,” says -Haring with a grim chuckle. “It always pleases me to get within stab of -a Spaniard.” - -Next the two examine the boat carefully; finding that she has a mast -and sail stored forward, which pleases them, as there is a slight -breeze that is favorable. Steeping this mast they hoist sail. - -Then Haring, who is examining the lockers in the boat, suddenly gives a -cry of joy. - -“What is it?” asks Guy. - -“Provisions! These rascally Spaniards have treated us well. Here’s a -flask of Spanish wine that I love as well as I hate the men who made -it, and plenty of rye bread and salted herring, with oil to grease -them. They’ll slide down beautifully. This is a lucky jump off.” - -“Yes, and here’s a better,” cries Guy. - -“What could be better than grub?” asks the Hollander. - -“Arms!” - -In the locker in the other side of the boat Chester has found four -Spanish arquebuses with ammunition, a sword and a battle axe. So the -two go to congratulating each other, for now they feel equipped for -their adventure. - -A quarter of an hour afterwards they near the place where the Diemer -Lake joins the pretty little river Amstel, which comes flowing from the -south. A guard-house stands at the point of junction, the flag of Spain -floating over it. A couple of Spanish soldiers are lounging in front of -it; but the day is balmy and sleepy, the boat under its sail makes no -noise, and before Alva’s veterans exactly wake up the little shallop -ranges within fifty feet of them. - -“Now,” whispers Guy, “in memory of Oliver!” - -With this come two reports, and the soldiers lie doubled up with -arquebus balls between their ribs, as the little skiff enters the -Amstel river. But there are five comrades of the two Spanish gentlemen -who lie moaning out their lives in front of the guard-house. These -hastily run to a boat, and with wild cries of rage and revenge are soon -in pursuit of the murderers of their comrades. - -“That was a good stroke,” mutters the Hollander. “I had expected to -meet three or four guard boats here, but all the surrounding patrols -have been weakened for the attack on the Diemerdyk. Push on, they are -coming after us.” The two take to their oars, but it is hard work -rowing against the current, and four men are pulling the Spanish boat, -which commences to overhaul them. - -“Row on, Haring, while I load the arquebuses. I’m a little quicker at -it than you,” says Chester. A moment after he adds: “Let them come now, -we’ve got four loaded guns, two for each of us.” - -Dropping the oars the two await the approaching Spanish patrol, who -come on, thinking they will have an easy victory, as there are five men -in the boat, two only rowing now, the other three blowing their slow -matches and getting their guns ready. - -But this does not suit the Englishman and Fleming. - -Were one of them wounded the other would surely perish. They take to -their oars again, and hastily round a little wooded point upon which -the willows are just beginning to expand their leaves, forming a slight -shelter. - -Suddenly grounding the skiff behind the screen of the thicket, they -spring on shore, each carrying two guns, and crawl across the point in -turn to catch the Spanish boat just as she rounds it. From this -ambuscade their four arquebuses discharged within twenty feet of their -pursuers, puts one dead over his rowlocks and two others desperately -wounded. - -Saluted in this ferocious manner the Spaniards, with a cry of surprise -and terror, turn their boat about down the river. - -“Not one of ’em must go back to send cavalry after us!” whispers -Haring. - -“Then come on, and we’ll nail the other two,” answers Guy. Reloading -their guns they fly to their shallop again, and after a desperate pull, -overtake the Spaniards, who row for their lives, but are no match on -the water for Gueux sailors. - -Two or three shots and one of Alva’s veterans cleft to the chin with -battle axe, and the Spanish patrol boat floats down the river manned -only by corpses. - -“That was fortunate,” says the Hollander. “There’s now no one to give -the alarm. Until we pass the guard-house at Ouderkerk we’ll probably -meet no Spanish troops. But they sometimes have a whole company there. -We must get past it after darkness.” - -With this they turn about and keep on up the pretty little river, which -flows with a quiet, sluggish current, and at five o’clock in the -evening conceal themselves in a patch of willows, taking very good care -that no one shall notice them. What peasants they have seen have fled -from them. Here, not daring to kindle a fire, the two eat salt herring -and oily bread convivially, and wait for approaching darkness. - -This comes deep and heavy over land and water; there is no moon this -night. Haring and Guy, muffling their oars, row cautiously up the -stream, and in half an hour see the lights of Ouderkerk. Then groping -along upon the opposite shore, the Dutchman acting as pilot, and -apparently knowing every sandbank in the stream, they would get past -this place, which is only a small village, undiscovered, were it not -for the barking of a few curs, which produces a challenge from the -Spanish sentry on the river bank. - -Not answering this, the two bend to their oars as silently, but as -strongly, as possible, and after a little the dogs cease barking, and -the sentry resumes his beat, apparently thinking, as he has seen -nothing or heard nothing, that nothing has passed him. In fact, after -they are beyond the place, they discover by the yellings of the curs -that the Spaniard is apparently kicking them for having aroused him. - -Nearly all that night they pass up the river, and by daybreak are happy -to find themselves, having made their way there by a small connecting -stream, in the Leg Meer, a long, narrow patch of water that nearly -reaches the Haarlem Lake. Passing along this in the early morning they -are pursued and overtaken, and that would probably be the end of them, -were it not friends instead of enemies who come upon them. - -It is a small bateau patrolling this debatable water in behalf of the -Prince of Orange. - -From its captain they get the information that De Bossu has just put -more galleys on the Haarlem Lake, and that they will have a hard time -to get through the Spanish, as the Dutch fleet is refitting at the Kaag -at the south end of the lake. “You had better not go,” suggests the -Holland commander. - -But Guy, confident that every day will bring more vessels of Alva’s -upon the Haarlem Meer, making his course more difficult, insists upon -going, and Haring is not the man to stay behind. - -“Well, if you’ve made up your mind to it,” replies the Dutch captain, -“We’ll help you on your way.” - -His sailors assist Guy and Haring in getting their boat from Leg Meer -across the polders by a water ditch that runs beside a dyke and launch -it upon the Haarlem Lake. - -“Now,” says Chester, “what provisions can you spare. It were an outrage -against humanity if we went into that starving town and took not one -sack of meal to their hungry mouths.” - -“You’re right,” answers the bateau commander. “We’ll give you three -hundred pounds of flour, which is all your boat can safely carry.” - -“Now you take your lives in your hands,” continues the captain. “You’d -better go in at night. You’re safer at the south end. But as you get -near Haarlem, look out! The Spaniards have two or three galleys always -off the Fuik.” - -Taking the advice of their friends, and getting from them a bottle of -spirits that cheers the two greatly, Haring and Guy set sail and speed -across the Haarlem Lake to two small islands on the western side some -four miles south of Haarlem. - -There they lie until the night sets in once more, and then in the -darkness, though they have a narrow squeak of it from a patrol galley, -get in to the Fuik and land at one of the small forts built there to -keep open communication between the lake and the leaguered city. - -Here they are welcomed by a crowd of gaunt, hungry but determined-eyed -citizens, who, under the stress of siege, have become more enduring -than veterans. For all history shows that when the citizen rises to -defend home and wives and children, no soldier is so enduring of -hunger, of thirst, of wounds, of torture, as he who battles within -sight of his roof-tree and returns each night from the horrors of war -to caress his wife and little ones, the sight of whom makes him go -forth again more desperate, more enduring, and more heroic for their -kisses and their tears. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -ADVANCED WOMANHOOD IN 1573. - - -Such a welcome is given Guy and Haring as only the besieged, despairing -and cut-off give to friends from the outer world. - -“You bring news of succor?” cries one Dutch burgher on guard. - -“The Prince’s fleet is almost ready,” whispers another with anxious -lips. “We have word by a carrier pigeon that he is fitting out an -expedition by land.” - -“Tell me of my wife in Delft, Margaret Enkhuysen—you left there, didn’t -you?” asks another. - -But explaining their business and delivering over their three sacks of -flour they are shortly afterward taken into the town by the Schalkwyker -gate. Here Guy needs no word of mouth to tell him that he is in a town -stricken by wounds and death, by siege and famine. The streets are -dark, no lights burn save in the great church, now used as a hospital, -and in the town-hall, where Ripperda, the Commandant, is busy with his -officers. - -The place is unnaturally silent. There are no barking dogs, nor even -yelling cats; these have been eaten. The only sounds in the streets are -the tramp of patrols relieving each other, or companies of men marching -to duty on the walls. The voices of the sentries are hollow and weak -with hunger. - -Guy, leaving Haring at the Swan Inn, before which sit no happy -burghers, and within which all is dark, makes his way to the great -ravelin between the St. Jan’s gate and the Kruys gate, where he is -informed that Pieter Kies is on guard, and gets interview with him. - -“Why didn’t you send the daughter of Niklaas Bodé Volcker out of the -town when it was besieged?” Guy asks indignantly. - -“Because we had use for her.” - -“Use for her? How? She is a woman, a non-combatant.” - -“Women are not non-combatants here. Were it not for women we men would -hardly hold this town.” - -“You don’t mean to say that Mina fights?” - -“No, she fills sand bags and sews them up, but there are plenty of -women who do fight. Fight as well as men. Women are men here! no, they -are more than that, they are angels of mercy—angels of death; nursing -the wounded one day and killing the Spaniards the next, with their own -hands. There’s the widow Kenau Hasselaer, the Spaniards fly from her -faster than they would from any man in the garrison.” - -“Nevertheless,” says Guy, unheeding this tribute to the advanced -womanhood of the sixteenth century, “I have promised my friend, this -girl’s lover, to take her safely out of Haarlem.” - -“How can you get her out?” queries the burgher grimly. - -“That will be my business if she will take the chance.” - -“You’ll have to see Commandant Ripperda. If he says so, well and good. -If not, I’ll not let you take the responsibility of trying to get Mina -out of this town. She’s safer here. Do you believe we’re going to -surrender? Not while we have anything to eat.” - -With this Guy goes away. But Ripperda, the commandant, is busy and -cannot be seen; so Chester, going to the Swan, there meets Haring, and -finds the inn as clean as it was before; in fact, too clean, for there -is nothing to dirty it with—nothing to eat save a porridge made of -grass taken from the streets. Therefore the two, having taken the -precaution of bringing their provisions with them in a bag, fall to -upon their own. - -But the smell of strong salt red herrings is so great that the children -congregate about the door, and the widow Hasselaer, who has just come -in from active duty, and is putting aside her breast-plate and head -piece, cries out savagely: “Dolts! what are you doing? Luxuries are for -the wounded!” With this she sweeps the Spanish wine, spirits, bread, -herrings, and every morsel they have, away from them to carry out to -the Kerk hospital, though her lips water at the sight of such unknown -delicacies, and the children follow her, sobbing for “a little -herring—just a taste, just a smell!” - -But Kenau Hasselaer is made of sterner stuff and the wounded get even -the herring smell. - -Guy and Haring look glumly at each other. “To-morrow morning,” says the -Englishman, “we’ll report ourselves and get rationed. It’s half a pound -of mouldy bread, I believe, made of rye husks and ground oats.” - -“Voor den duivel!” growls the Dutchman. “We must get out of here while -we have strength. If that infernal woman had only left us the spirits!” - -Then the two go gloomily to bed and fall into the deep sleep of -tremendous fatigue, having toiled with their boat all the night before. - -From this they are awakened by the awful din of arms, the clang of all -the bells in the Groote Kerk and the lesser churches mingling with the -clash and boom of bombard and culverin and saker. - -Besides this Vrouw Hasselaer’s sturdy hand is upon them, shaking them -out of their slumbers. - -“Wake up, sluggards!” she cries, “and fight for your lives! Up! I’ll -show you the way.” - -Knowing that if the Spaniards take the town they will certainly butcher -them, Guy and his companion hastily seize their arms and run with the -widow through dark streets that are now full of men turning out to -fight for their desolate homes. - -Arriving at the wall just east of the Kruys gate, which has been made -into a block house, the two, used as they are to scenes of battle, find -themselves in such a fight as they have never seen before. - -For they are in the woman’s department. - -“Hel en duivel! There’s not a man here. We two can’t hold this long -work,” cries Haring. - -“You can’t?” exclaims Kenau Hasselaer, “but we’ll do it for you. Women -of Haarlem, show these Springalds how to fight!” - -This they do with all the might, potency and viciousness of the -advanced womanhood of the Sixteenth Century, almost shaming Haring, who -is a hero, and Chester, who is as sturdy a Captain as ever England sent -forth, by deeds of prowess done by Kenau Hasselaer and her sister -Amazons that night. - -“Weerlicht! Cats are nothing to them!” gasps Haring, as he sees the way -they handle the Spanish veterans, who come on thinking the town is -already in their grasp; for this attack has been a surprise and nearly -succeeded. - -To make preparations for the great sortie that is to be combined with -Orange’s attack from the lake, word of which has been brought into town -by carrier pigeons, the guards had been weakened upon the outer -ravelin, the great work just behind the moat running between the Kruys -and the St. Jan’s gates, and immediately facing Don Frederico’s -headquarters. - -This ravelin having been crumbled down and breached under the -unremitting fire of the heavy Spanish batteries; during the night the -moat had been quickly bridged by pontoons thrown across by Vargas. -Crossing this the veterans of Romero, De Billy and Vargas had ensconced -themselves quietly at the foot of the ravelin. - -Then taking breath, their advance had crawled up the breaches and -before the Dutch sentinels, worn out with watching, fatigue and hunger, -knew what they were about, had killed a good many of them and got -possession of the work the Spaniards think the key to the town. - -Besides this, they have gained the great block house at the Kruys gate, -and Romero has captured the Jan’s gate. - -“Cut in! Slay, kill—Haarlem is ours!” is the cry that reaches Don -Frederico’s happy ears as he orders up reinforcements to make his -success certain. - -But even as the Spaniards spring over the ravelin to drop down right -into Haarlem, they find they have not captured it. - -As the batteries, week after week, have crumbled the ravelin, the -besieged, chiefly the women and children, have erected directly behind -it a great demi-lune of sandbags and earth, stronger against cannon and -quite as difficult of escalade as the ravelin. This, masked from sight, -is unknown to the Spanish until they mount the first fortification to -see the second confronting them. - -As Alva’s soldiers look on it, this demi-lune is being manned by the -hastily alarmed people of the neighboring streets. A moment after they -are joined by the German troops of the garrison—with a shout, the -Spaniards come on—the fight begins. - -The weakest spot in Haarlem wall is that immediately next the block -house of the Kruys gate, the one now held by Vargas’s veterans. This -intrenchment is held by Kenau and her lady militia. This has been their -post of honor, and Ripperda, commander of the city, knows that into no -hands (and he has veterans of many wars, and eight hundred gallant -Scotchmen now reduced to one-half, and the French company under Courie) -could he so well trust this point of weakness as to those unto whom he -has given it. - -For these women are fighting not only for all that manhood values, but -in addition to all that their safety from defilement. Every one of -them, maid, wife or widow, shudders as she thinks of Spanish mercy in a -stormed town to hapless womanhood. - -Alva’s veterans come confidently on. They have conquered one rampart, -why not the other? - -Up the slope they surge with cries of “Philip!” and “Don Frederico!” to -find a cordial welcome from Sorosis at the summit. - -Behind the rampart is a great fire and a mighty cauldron full of -boiling brine. First comes a volley to make the enemy give back for one -fatal minute, each woman firing her musket in the faces of the coming -foe, who hesitate under the carnage. - -“Wash out these Spaniards!—pass the water up!” cries the widow, and -seizing the first bucket-full of boiling stuff, she swashes it in the -face of an Italian captain, whose tried armor is not proof against this -cruel scalding. As he screams in agony she cuts him down. - -Then with the deft hands of the washtub her women deluge with boiling -brine the Spaniards, who shriek and scream and writhe in agony. - -But others from behind press on; at these the women go with -broadswords. Caring naught for death, they carry no shields, but swing -the big weapons with both arms. Against the weight of such a blow no -skill of fence from single arm is potent. - -“Pikemen to the front!” screams De Billy, but a moment after he is -wounded and carried from the fray and the pikemen do not come soon -enough, for Kenau Hasselaer, heading her women veterans, charges down -the demi-lune and sweeps every living Spaniard into the block house by -the Kruys gate. - -With this she laughs hoarsely: “We’ve got it full. Now, Vrouw -Jannaps—thy work!” - -And a woman who has been waiting quietly on the top of the demi-lune -springs down and coming back a minute later cries, “I’ve fired the -mine!” - -This is reported almost at the same moment by the mine itself and the -great block house of the Kruys gate, that has been prepared for its -Spanish visitors with some twenty barrels of gunpowder, goes up into -the air, and with it some hundred Walloon infantry of De Billy and a -detachment of Vargas veterans. - -Then they pelt the last unwounded Spaniard back across the little -bridge and though Romero holds with his company the St. Jan’s gate on -the other side of the demi-lune, the fire from the gabled houses near -by, and two or three small cannon and sakers that have been brought up, -is so fierce, that not one of the sentries can put his head outside its -masonry and live. From this reception, Romero having had an eye shot -out leads back his men—those that can get away;—for now comes the -greatest horror of it all. - -Taught by their adversaries’ many deeds of hideous cruelty, the Dutch -sally forth and slowly and in cold blood as butchers do their work, -dispatch the Spanish wounded, who cry in vain for quarter. - -In all this fight Guy and Haring have stood side by side with Kenau -Hasselaer. Where the women have charged they have charged with them, -and she coming back laughs and pats them on the shoulders, crying: -“Good boys, you did well, almost as well as if you had been women! You -have the courage to fight, will you have the courage to starve with -us?” - -But this starving matter is neither to Haring’s nor Guy’s liking; -besides this, they are there for a special purpose. So getting word -with Ripperda, who stands on the rampart surrounded by his officers, -Guy broaches his errand to him, asking permission to take Bodé -Volcker’s daughter from the place. - -“I am right glad to see you again, First of the English, and supposed -you had come to stay with us,” answers the Holland commander. - -“Oh! you don’t need fighters, men nor women,” returns Chester. “You’ve -got too many eaters in the town now.” - -“You don’t think they’ll capture us?” - -“Not by arms,” says the Englishman. “Therefore I say the fewer mouths -to feed the safer you are. A provision train or a few boat loads of -flour are worth more to you than a thousand veterans.” - -“You are right,” responds Ripperda, his face growing gloomy. “But I and -those with me are here to stay, even with these horrors—Look!” - -Daylight has now broken, and peering forth from an embrasure for fear -of Spanish arquebus balls, Guy sees the picture of a Dutch town -leaguered by the Spaniards. Before him is the demi-lune, its face -dotted with dead, its ditch filled with them. Opposite stands the other -rampart, the one won by the Spaniards and still occupied by them. -Behind this the moat fed by the Spaarne river, commanded by the Spanish -batteries of bombards and breaching cannon. - -Then come clumps of trees to the left, and the Leprosy hospital; beyond -that and all around circling the view are the tents and huts of Alva’s -besieging army, cutting off this hapless town from friends and food. - -To Chester’s ears come faintly on the morning breeze the clang of arms -and moving companies and reliefs marching to the intrenchments. - -Scattered over this scene are half a dozen windmills, and in front of -them another erection, which makes Guy, soldier as he is, bite his -lips. - -It is a huge gallows upon which twenty bodies dangle, some by the -necks, others by the feet. - -And now, horror of horrors, the Spanish executioner, comes with his -assistants quite early to his morning work. With him on hurdles are -despairing wretches bound hand and foot. So getting to their business, -they take down the dead to hang up the living who here, in sight of -their friends and townsmen, shall occupy it with their dying agonies -this day. - -There is a cry of rage and anguish from the walls—these tortured ones -are neighbors they had talked with the day before, prisoners taken -during a sortie. And one woman screams: “Oh, merciful God, I see -him—they are hanging up my Klaas!” and falls down moaning. - -“We’ll do the same,” says Ripperda, “head for head! Call the Provost -Captain!” - -Soon some twenty Spaniards dangle from the walls in hideous reply to -savage challenge. - -Enraged by this Alva’s soldiers on the neighboring ravelin toss -something into the Dutch demi-lune. - -It falls almost at the feet of Guy and Ripperda. - -The Dutch captain bending down inspects this, then mutters suddenly to -Guy: “This head is placarded ‘Captain Oliver, of Mons.’” - -“Good God!” and with eyes filled with anguish Chester sees once more, -for the last time, the face of his dead friend. - -“You knew he was dead?” asks Ripperda. - -“Yes,” mutters Guy, “but I couldn’t tell of it here; his betrothed -would learn.” - -“Yes, the girl Mina was to marry our patriot!” sighs the commander. -Then he says hoarsely: “Take her away if you can get her forth alive. -Take her away quickly; don’t tell her until you get her from the horror -of this. Good bye, my English friend. If we meet again Haarlem will be -free from Spanish butchers.” - -And the two make their farewell with mutual respect. - -From this Guy, going to Pieter Kies, says: “I have the Commandant’s -orders. Take me to Mina Bodé Volcker!” - -Getting word with the girl, who is very pale from famine and anxiety, -she sobs to him: “You have come to take me to Antony. I know it. I see -it in your face.” - -“Yes,” mutters Chester. - -“Where is he? How was it Oliver didn’t come with you?” - -“Oh he—he came part way,” falters Guy, and goes with Haring to make -arrangements for their journey. - -The only chance to get the girl out is by the lake. To do that they -must escape at night. - -Taking Mina down through the Schalkwyker gate by the little line of -intrenchments and fortifications along the left bank of the Spaarne, by -which the besieged still keep communication open with the lake, they -get to the fort upon its shore over which the flag of Orange flies, and -preparing their boat, wait for nightfall. - -This comes, but scarce soon enough, they are so very hungry. But with -it also comes something that aids their enterprise. - -Five Spanish galleys are guarding the Fuik. Sails are seen to the -southeast. Four of these spreading their canvas, go out to reconnoiter, -and by night have not returned. There is now but one galley to avoid, -though she puts out two patrol boats. - -“I think I can give a good account of those cursed bateaux that keep -provisions from us,” mutters the Holland commander of the fort. -Forthwith he prepares three boats to attack the patrolling ones of the -Spaniards at nightfall. - -As these go out to make attack, Chester and Haring set sail upon the -little skiff, and, dodging the galley, which is now engaged with the -Haarlemers, are soon out upon the open lake, scudding to the south -before a fair wind. - -Before daylight they are at the Kaag, and passing from there to Delft; -the next evening, Guy finds himself acquitted of his oath. - -Having placed his charge in comfort and retirement in the inn called -the Gilded Tower, Chester strolls into the wine room of the hostelry to -meet astonishment. A wild-eyed creature on seeing him rises up, his -teeth chattering as he mutters: “Hel en duivel! It is a dead man!” - -It is the merchant Bodé Volcker, who has been at Delft for months -beseeching the Prince of Orange to save his daughter. - -“Not at all,” whispers Guy. Then he adds savagely: “Shut your -chattering teeth till you hear,” and seizing Niklaas’s arm leads him to -private converse. - -“So you recognized me?” the Englishman says under his breath. - -“Yes, but you are dead. The news came months ago to Antwerp that -Colonel Guido Amati was killed at the battle on the ice in combat with -‘The First of the English.’” - -“No, I’ve recovered from my wounds!” - -“Then, unfortunate man, if they discover you, a colonel in the Spanish -army, here, you’re no better than dead. But I will not betray you,” -mutters Bodé Volcker. “You saved my child once, to take her where she -is worse off.” Then he cries, wringing his hands: “Save her again, my -Mina! She’s in Haarlem, a refugee from justice. If they take the city -it is her death. You have Alva’s ear, plead with him. You have -influence with his daughter, speak to her!” - -“That is unnecessary,” answers Guy, “I have saved your daughter -already.” - -“Saved her? How? Where? - -“Right here at the Gilded Tower.” - -“Here! In Gods naam! You have saved her? Take me to her, my Mina who -was lost—my Mina who is found!” - -And the old man, delirious with joy, fondles Guy’s hand and invokes -blessings upon him. - -A minute after he turns to fly to the child he had grieved for, but Guy -stays him and says: “First I must tell you something.” - -“What is it? Don’t keep me.” - -“Only for her sake,” he answers, and pours out his tale of Oliver’s -death, then whispers: “Tell it to her—I tried but could not.” - -In his story Chester is compelled to reveal to the merchant who he -really is, and this seems to take more hold upon Bodé Volcker than even -the painter’s death. He gasps astounded: “You! ‘The First of the -English?’ You! You came to Antwerp—did mortal man ever take such risk? -Ten thousand crowns are now put upon your head since the battle on the -ice. Why did you take such risk?” Here he suddenly cries: “Oh! Bij den -hemel! I see. You’re in love with Alva’s daughter.” - -“Yes,” says Guy, who feels that he has now put this man under such -obligation that his secret is safe with him. “She is my affianced wife, -I am going to marry the Duke’s daughter.” - -“Then you must hurry, young man, you must hurry,” says Bodé Volcker -solemnly. - -“Why?” - -“Because—Ah I guess the reason now!—it was after the death of Guido -Amati—she has become religious. It is said she will become a nun.” - -“A NUN!” screams Guy. “Because she’s heard that Guido Amati is dead. -This is a rare and cruel joke!” and bursts, with sinking heart and -sickening soul, into hideous laughter, jeering at himself, as Bodé -Volcker hurries away to take his daughter once more to his arms. - - - - - - - - - - -BOOK III. - -THE DUKE’S UNLUCKY PENNY. - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -“IS IT A DREAM?” - - -From his interview with his daughter Bodé Volcker comes out a great -sadness in his Flemish eyes, and finding Guy waiting for him, breaks -forth: “This painter Oliver! What right had such a man to love anything -but his country? What right had he, with torture hanging over him, to -love my child?” - -“The right that all men have to love the beautiful,” sighs Guy, Bodé -Volcker’s surprising revelations as Doña de Alvas’ convent yearnings -having made him not only romantic, but sad. - -“But not the right to sacrifice the beautiful. Oliver’s treachery to -Alva put danger upon Mina, and now his death has broken her heart. She -cannot even go to her home for fear of Alva’s torture. Alva!” shrieks -the merchant, “who has brought this misery upon me and mine. Alva! who -has ruined me.” - -“Ruined you? How?” queries Chester uneasily. He has been waiting for -the merchant, being in need of financial aid, and this talk of ruin -makes him anxious. - -“How?” echoes Bodé Volcker. “First by destroying my home. Second by -destroying my business with his tenth penny tax, and third by taking -from me as a forced loan for the Spanish government five hundred -thousand crowns.” - -“Do you want to get it back again?” - -“Heavens and earth! Yes. The money is as good as lost. What wild talk -are you jabbering to me?” says the merchant derisively. - -“It isn’t wild talk!” - -“Not wild talk about Alva’s repaying his debts?” - -“No, for I’ll pay them.” - -“You—a fighting man—pay five hundred thousand crowns? Your sufferings -have made you crazy,” cries Niklaas, who thinks Guy is jeering him. - -“Not at all. Advance me ten thousand crowns, stake your life as I stake -mine, and I’ll give you your five hundred thousand crowns and -vengeance.” - -This comes in determined whisper from the Englishman, who has thought -this matter over, and concluded that, Oliver being gone, Bodé Volcker, -with his Antwerp storehouse, Antwerp ships and Antwerp knowledge, is -the man to aid him in this affair, if he has the nerve. - -“Stake my life? I’ll stake it a hundred times to gain vantage of the -man who has robbed me!” - -“Very well, come with me to my room, we must talk very privately of -this,” says Guy, who now feels pretty certain that though Bodé Volcker -might not risk his life for patriotism, he would risk it a dozen times -over to get back his five hundred thousand crowns. But it is not this -man’s motives he cares for, but this man’s action. - -Arrived at Chester’s room the merchant says: “What do you want?” - -“First I want a hundred crowns to pay John Haring, who has helped me -get your daughter out of Haarlem.” - -“I will—I’ll give Haring a thousand. And I’ll give you my love, my -devotion, whatever else you want for saving my Mina from despair and -death,” answers the merchant in grateful voice. - -“Your life, perhaps.” - -“Yes, I’ll give that too, to get vantage of Alva.” - -“Then,” says Guy, “listen to me.” And swearing Bodé Volcker very -solemnly to secrecy, he tells him everything—everything connected with -Alva’s statue, everything connected with Alva’s treasure, for he -believes in no half confidences to this man, the risk of whose life he -demands for his own selfish purpose. - -“Very well. What do you want me to do?” answers the Dutchman, his eyes -lighting up as he hears of Alva’s buried treasure, the joy of pirate -plunder coming into his merchant’s soul. “Should I not have a little -more—interest, at least?” - -“Yes, interest—six hundred thousand, or, as your life is worth -something—we’ll make it seven hundred and fifty thousand.” - -“Very well—to business! What do you want?” - -“First, for time presses, I want clearance papers procured as soon as -possible from the town of Amsterdam for the Esperanza that I have still -at Flushing harbor. Can you procure them?” - -“From Amsterdam? Impossible. But I can get you clearance and cargo from -Stockholm.” - -“That will take two weeks—some nearer port!” - -“From Dunquerque? That’ll only take three or four days.” - -“From Dunquerque! All right,” answers Chester. “With the Esperanza I -shall go, consigned to you, as Captain Andrea Blanco, once more right -into the harbor of Antwerp and lay there till I get Alva’s treasures -and Alva’s daughter or lose my life. It isn’t known in that town that -you came here?” - -“No, I was very careful about that,” says Bodé Volcker. “They think I -am in France buying Lyons’ silks. I’ll sail with you from Dunquerque -myself. That’ll make everything seem very right—Lyons’ silks from a -French port.” - -“And afterwards if it is discovered you’ll lose your life.” - -“That’s all right,” says the Dutchman. “Antwerp’s commerce is going to -the dogs and I’m going to leave it with whatever money I can gather -together. That seven hundred and fifty thousand crowns will help me.” - -So all the arrangements are made and every little detail settled, even -to Mina’s remaining quietly in Delft, which is the best place for the -poor girl at present. - -“She has no heart for anything,” mutters Bodé Volcker, then grinding -his teeth, adds: “But I’ll have revenge upon the man who would have -sent her to the lash and Spin-house, and because I am her father, -robbed me of five hundred thousand crowns.” - -This very night Guy takes a purse of gold to John Haring, of Horn, and -putting it into the man’s hands says: “This is your reward for the -danger and trouble that have come to you for my sake!” - -“Donder en Bliksem!” ejaculates the Holland fisherman. “This is more -money than I ever saw before. I don’t want anything for doing a kind -act.” - -“You’ve a wife and children, take it for them and for your expenses -returning to the North, where I wish you to go for me on a special -errand.” - -So it is arranged that Haring departs at once for North Holland, taking -orders with him to Dalton to bring the Dover Lass straight to Flushing, -and, not finding Guy and the Esperanza there, to sail the ship at once -to the South Beveland shore and anchor in the Krom Vliet. There will -not be any great risk in this, nearly all the Spanish galleys having -gone to Amsterdam to help the Haarlem leaguer. - -The next morning Haring leaves for the North, and Guy and Bodé Volcker -take boat to Flushing, where the Esperanza is lying. - -Guy has left some ten men on board this ship, and they are sufficient -to navigate it to Dunquerque, where he takes cargo from Bodé Volcker’s -agents at that place and obtains proper clearance papers to Antwerp. - -Setting sail from this port they make Flushing, to find to Chester’s -delight the Dover Lass already there, Haring has traveled so rapidly, -Dalton has obeyed his orders so promptly, and the Dover Lass, the ice -having all melted in Enkhuysen harbor, is so fleet under favorable -breezes. - -“By all the mermaids!” cries his first officer, on seeing his captain, -“we thought you dead—drowned at that cursed Diemerdyk fight. This is -glorious news.” - -“I’ve got better for you,” laughs Guy. - -“What’s that?” - -“Money to pay off the crew!” At which the British tars set up a wild -cheer and become very happy indeed. - -Then drawing upon Bodé Volcker’s money bags Chester makes settlement -with his mariners. - -The next morning taking many of the crew who had gone with him to -Antwerp before, and the Dover Lass accompanying him as far as Krom -Vliet and anchoring there, just off the South Beveland shore, Guy -proceeds to Antwerp, passes the guard boat off Lillo, and hauls up to -the city docks, more impatient to get at Alva’s daughter than Alva’s -treasure. - -He knows he must make quick work of this. During his fights and -skirmishes his face has become known to many Spanish soldiers, and -though most of these are up in Holland, a few are here on sick leave. -Fortunately these are mostly confined to bed and chamber, as only the -desperately wounded come from the front, Spain having need of every man -to carry on the siege of Haarlem—but still with ten thousand crowns -upon his head, “The First of the English” is now in fearful jeopardy. - -Letting no time pass Chester, disguised as completely as possible as -Captain Andrea Blanco, goes up to the merchant’s house to make -arrangements for unloading his cargo. They are in earnest conversation, -Guy charging Bodé Volcker, who has now gone into this business of -stealing Alva’s treasure with heart and soul, to discover all about the -house of the Spanish woman, Señora Sebastian, when great and sudden joy -comes to his soul. - -He hears the voice of the Countess de Pariza in the salesroom just off -the little counting room where he is holding converse with the -merchant. This voice he has always before considered harsh, unpleasant -and uninviting, but now it seems to him as sweet as an angel’s, as it -says: “I have called to price and buy some white French muslin for my -charge, Doña de Alva. You need not measure many yards, the lady -Hermoine soon goes to Spain to enter a religious house.” - -“Shall I deliver the goods at the Citadel for your ladyship?” asks the -obsequious clerk. - -“No, I’ll take them with me. The weather has been so pleasant that Doña -Hermoine and I are now located for the summer at the country house near -Sandvliet. Be quick, young man, the State barge is waiting.” - -These words knock all thought of Alva’s treasure out of Guy’s mind. - -“Give me some further details,” whispers the merchant, “about the house -of the Spanish woman.” - -“I’ve told you where it is. To-morrow I’ll talk with you. Which is the -quickest way to Sandvliet?” - -“The quickest way is on horseback, but it is not the safest.” - -“I go the quickest way.” - -“Past the sentries of Lillo? You will be questioned! You must have a -passport!” Then the merchant whispers in warning tones: “Are you going -as Captain Andrea Blanco or as Colonel Guido Amati, or as—the other -man?” Bodé Volcker’s face is white as he makes this last remark. - -“As—My God! I must go as Colonel Guido Amati!” - -“Do you think you’ll pass the fort at Lillo with a passport for Colonel -Guido Amati, who has been marked dead upon the army rolls three or four -months?” says Bodé Volcker, bringing the common sense of the merchant -to bear upon the romance of the sailor. “A year ago you might have -passed Lillo as Captain Guido Amati, but as Colonel Guido Amati, a man -of mark, a man who rode at the head of his regiment, a man who has been -mentioned in general orders as dead—no, no, you’ll throw away your life -and not gain the girl. You’ll throw away the treasure and sacrifice my -life.” - -“You’re right,” says Chester moodily, “but see her I must.” - -“Then go by boat, that’s your only way,” returns Niklaas. - -“Very well, I’ll take the Esperanza’s gig; it is a quick pulling boat, -and I’ll take every care of myself—for her sake most of all,” answers -Chester. “It wouldn’t do for her to again mourn for Guido Amati. -Meantime do what you can up here. I’ll meet you to-morrow morning.” - -With these words Captain Andrea Blanco strides out of the counting room -of the merchant Bodé Volcker and going on board the Esperanza gives -himself the appearance of Colonel Guido Amati as much as he can; for -his wounds have made him pale, and desperate exertions and desperate -anxiety have brought lines of care upon his brow. - -Notwithstanding this, as his boat, propelled by six stalwart rowers, -catching the ebb tide, goes down the Schelde, there is a gleam of -intense happiness and expectant joy, upon the face of the dashing young -man. - -This happiness is softer and more enraptured as with jaunty step and -purple mantle, in satin and silk, and rigged up as cavalier to meet his -lady love, Chester steps out of his boat on the dyke about half a mile -west of Sandvliet, where there is a pretty landing-stage and ornamental -steps running down to the water for lady’s use and a charming walk -shaded by poplars leading up to the exquisite chateau built by my lord -of Alva for his daughter’s summering. - -The house though reached by the walk, is situated right upon the dyke -itself, giving it a water view and summer breezes blowing up the -Schelde. One wing of it even juts over the water, a boat could sail -beneath its windows. - -The mansion is extensive, consisting of a central portion and two -wings; the one over the water from its luxurious balconies and awnings -seems that portion where the Viceroy’s daughter herself resides; the -other wing, as well as Guy can judge as he approaches it, is devoted to -the uses of the servants and contains the kitchen and other offices of -the house. The main portion is probably used for general reception -purposes. Altogether it is a very handsome and extensive water villa, -built with an exquisite Moorish grace and Orientally luxurious in its -fittings. This can easily be seen from the distance, for there are -blinds on the outside to keep the sun out, and the windows themselves -in some cases are of ornamental glass. - -Running along the dyke in front of the house is a beautiful little -garden, the trees, for it is well into May now, covered with early -leaflets in their first green and freshest beauty. Some flowers, -probably raised in hot-beds or green-house, have been planted in its -grass plots. - -At the end furthest from the villa is a little summer house covered -with vines and fronting on the water. This catches Guy’s eye as he -looks about, inspecting carefully the house before he makes his -entrance or knocks, calls or claps his hands for servants, after the -manner of that day. - -Looking closely at it, Chester discovers within the flutter of a white -gown. Is it the instinct of love that makes his heart beat wilder than -it has ever beat before—save when she was in his arms? - -A poplar tree stands by the hedge. Seizing this Guy swings himself -lightly into the garden, and carefully approaches the arbor, to see -therein enrapturing sight. - -Hermoine de Alva—her face turned partly from him and looking seaward -down the Schelde, is half reclining upon a low rustic bench made soft -to her by cushions of down and silk, one little hand supporting the -beautiful head, one graceful foot and delicate ankle outstretched, and -all her lovely figure in softest draping white save where upon the -neck, wrists and borders of her garments are trimmings of narrow -black—makes picture upon which his eyes, that have so long been denied -sight of her, could linger in a kind of dreamy rapture. - -But Chester is not the man for dreams when his sweetheart is within hug -of him. He only pauses to think how he can avert the shock of letting -her see a dead man live before her. - -“She’ll think me a ghost and uncanny,” he meditates; for ghosts, -fairies and the supernatural were very common in those days. - -As he stands hesitating the girl picks up a prayer book that is near -her hand and forces herself to read, then sighing puts it down. As she -moves a gleam from her white hand comes to him. It is from the ring he -gave her, and Guy can be silent no more. - -“Joy never kills, otherwise I were dead of it now myself,” he thinks; -then says lightly, almost in her ear: “Doña Hermoine, why don’t you cry -me welcome?” - -“Holy Virgin! that voice,” falters the girl. “That VOICE!” Starting up -and her eye catching him, she gasps: “Madre mia! Guido! My Guido, who -is dead!” next whispers with white lips: “Your spirit has not come to -reproach me—you cannot do that, when I wed only heaven because you’re -dead!” And her lovely eyes beam with horror of the supernatural. - -“Not dead, but on the sick leave! They don’t give sick leave to dead -men.” Then thinking to destroy the supernatural with the commonplace, -Guy suggests: “Are you not going to ask me to dinner?” - -“A dinner for a ghost!” This is a wild shrieking gasp from Hermoine’s -pale lips, as seizing her prayer book and holding on high the gilded -cross upon its vellum cover, she begins falteringly: “Exorcizare te—” - -But he cries out: “No GHOST! Don’t exorcise me as weird!” - -“No ghost? Impossible! I have mourned for you—ever since—the awful -news—of the Battle-on-the-Ice—when that cruel English cut-throat and -his men killed—” - -“Not ME! Though they slashed me up a little here and there—a cut upon -the head, and a bullet in the body. I’ll prove I am not dead. Are these -ghost lips? Don’t you remember them?” - -As Hermoine half reels Guy gets an arm about her graceful waist and -stops her gasps and sighs as such hysteria should be always stayed in -lovely woman. - -Perhaps it is the vivid life that is in his kisses that makes the -girl—though it takes many of them to convince her—suddenly gasp: -“Alive! Yes, yes! you are alive! your heart beats against mine. My -Guido lives!” and bursts out sobbing, as if grief had come to her -instead of joy. - -But she has ready and effectual comforter and soon her tears become -smiles, her sighs become love notes, she beams upon the dead that is -alive, like the sun itself, brighter, for the cloud it bursts through. - -As for Guy, he makes up for enforced absence and lost time in a way -that makes Miss Alva blush and beam, then blush again and murmur: -“You—you need not prove to me so often that you live. I know your lips -are not ghost lips.” Here she murmurs reproachfully: “And you let me -mourn for you so long?” - -“A prisoner—” begins Chester. - -“A prisoner!—they take no prisoners!” - -“The First of the English does! Besides my wounds,” mutters Guy, -disconcerted. - -“Oh, yes, your frightful wounds. I’ll—I’ll be your nurse.” - -“Yes, under your hands I think I’ll recover in time,” he says, his face -radiant, then goes excitedly on: “I’ll not get well before—” - -“Before what?” - -“Before I wed you.” - -“Wed me?” And blushes fly over Miss Brunette, even to her ivory neck, -her eyes droop, though there is a joyous light in them. - -“Yes, this trip I wed you!” This is a whisper, made almost ferocious by -its determination. - -Here Hermoine astounds him, for she answers, her brave eyes looking -into his and her voice as determined as his: “Yes, this trip you -shall!” then falters: “I—I couldn’t bear to suffer as I have done -before. When you go to the front again, I go with you. Colonel Guido -Amati de Medina shall have a wife. But you shall not think of this till -you’re well, and that will be a long time, I’m afraid,” and the girl -looks at a slight scar upon her lover’s forehead as if it were a mortal -hurt. - -At this he anathematizes himself as a heartless wretch to let her mourn -for him so long, no matter his duty and his oath to friend, for he sees -in the lovely face the lingering traces of a cruel sorrow. - -A minute after his sweetheart gives Guy a start. She suddenly cries: -“Why what a prophet that little De Busaco is! He—he must have second -sight!” - -“De Busaco! You have seen him?” mutters the putative Guido Amati -anxiously. - -“Yes, he’s in the garrison at Lillo, sent there to recover. Frost got -into the poor little lieutenant’s wounds after the battle on the ice. -Hearing he had seen the last of you, my Guido,” she catches Guy’s hand -at this, as if she feared she would lose him even now, “I sent for him -and deftly inquired—as if with the interest of a passing friend—Oh, I -controlled my feelings well!—how you had passed away. And he told me; -but before he left said, ‘I venture this is not the last you will see -of Colonel Guido Amati.’ ‘Why not?’ I gasped, a wild hope in my heart. -‘Did you not see him fall?’ ‘Yes,’ De Busaco said nonchalantly, and I -thought his manner very heartless then, ‘but my friend, Colonel Guido -Amati, has a cat’s nine lives, and at present he has only sacrificed -one of them.’ Did the lieutenant guess they would spare your life?” - -“Perhaps,” answers Guy. “This English cut-throat, as you call him, not -only spared, but saved my life, guarded me, took me to Enkhuysen, and -when I lay there with the fever of my wounds, saw that I was as well -nursed out of it, as if I were his very self.” - -“Then he’s not an English cut-throat.” - -“No, he’s an English knight, and some day I hope you’ll say he is a -gentleman even worthy of your esteem.” - -“And so he is! He saved your life from the knives of these cruel Dutch -freebooters,” says the girl suddenly; then mutters in a horrified way: -“And I induced papa to increase the reward for your savior’s head. -Heaven forgive me!—ten thousand crowns are now offered for the man who -saved your life!” - -“Diablo!” replies Guy, not over pleased at what he hears. “The -Englishman is very well able to take care of himself, so we’ll let him -alone and return to Colonel Guido Amati.” - -“Apropos of him,” laughs Hermoine, “the ghost asked for dinner, I -believe—Will the spectre have spiritual oysters, hobgoblin turbot and -ragout from the witches’ cauldron!” and the girl who is now a picture -of radiant joy, claps her hands. - -“No,” replies Guy, “but the ghost’ll take a giant dinner with -permission of the maiden of the fairy castle, and she may put as many -spirits in the wine as she likes.” - -“Then haste, for I’m going to kill the fatted calf for you!” And -Hermoine would seize upon her knight’s hand to lead him to her bower. - -But Chester suddenly hesitates and mutters: “The Countess de -Pariza—what will your duenna say!” - -“She will say nothing,” remarks Miss de Alva in airy ensouciance. “The -Countess de Pariza will not be here this evening.” - -“No? I thought she had the State barge with her.” - -“Yes. She’ll keep that in Antwerp over night. She lodges with the -Countess Mansfeld. Since that night—you remember it, the one I -bless—that night you rescued me from the Gueux—the Countess de Pariza -fears the Beggars of the Sea worse than the fiends of the other world, -and though nominally she lives here, she is absent every evening that -she can be. She’ll not return before to-morrow morning.” - -“That’s glorious,” laughs Guy, blessing in heart Dirk Duyvel and his -cut-throats, “it’ll save so much trouble; I’ll visit you in the -evenings. The Countess de Pariza has a woman’s tongue.” - -“If she has,” cries the girl, “I’ll find a curb for it!” and for one -instant she looks like Alva’s daughter. “But come into the house. -You’re hungry, and with your wounds you must have strengthening food. -Come to supper.” - -To this meal Guy, who has a sailor’s if not a ghost’s appetite, suffers -himself to be led; Doña Hermoine taking his arm as if she feared to -lose him. - -Within the spacious hall of the beautiful country residence its fair -mistress claps her hands, and the two Moorish girls Guy had seen before -come running to her. - -“Alida, have a room prepared for this gentleman, who sups with me,” -orders Hermoine. At which one of the maids, making obeisance before her -mistress, whispers in her ear: - -Then Doña de Alva bursts out laughing, but says: “Certainly. He is my -friend, Colonel Guido Amati, whom you must honor as you do me. Señor, -when you return you will find the giant meal you asked for.” - -Thereupon Guy, following the Moorish girl, who had brought him the -packet that evening at the Citadel, and who appears to be his -sweetheart’s confidential servant, soon finds himself in the most -luxurious chamber he has ever seen, though curiously masculine in its -fittings, furniture and contents. There are arms upon the wall, men’s -boots are in the dressing-room adjoining, and on the toilet table a -missal beautifully bound with the castle with the three towers, a raven -on each—the arms of Alva; in this is a book-mark curiously worked, and -signed “Thy Hermoine.” - -“What masculine creature,” thinks Chester to himself, half jealously, -“makes himself thus at home here?” Turning to the girl who has shown -him hither, and who looks on him with curious and astonished eyes, he -says: “These seem a gentleman’s quarters?” - -“Yes! It is the chamber of my lord his Highness of Alva, when he honors -us with his presence,” answers the maid, with a low courtesy, and -leaves Guy gazing about this sanctum of his enemy. - -“Egad!” he thinks, “Truly I’m in the Lion’s nest now.” Then looking at -the luxury of the draperies and canopy of the bed he mutters: “A week -ago I slept in Hasselaer’s inn, in Haarlem!” and all the horror of the -famine and death of the leaguered city coming to him—his present luxury -seems almost a dream. - -But devoting himself to business, for he is anxious for sight for his -sweetheart once more as well as dinner, the young man brushes from -himself all evidences of his journey, making his ablutions with softer -towels than his stalwart hands have ever clutched before. - -Then striding down the great oak staircase into the hall below, he is -ushered by the other Moorish maid into an apartment that will never -leave his memory—perchance not for the impression it first made upon -him, but for what afterwards took place in it. - -It is a lofty arched room in the right wing of the mansion, one great -oriel window at its end opening right over the waters of the Schelde, -through which the splash of its soft waves can be heard, for the sashes -are up and awnings extend above to keep out the setting sun. On one -side the wall is broken by three large arches. Heavily curtained with -thickest Flemish tapestry adorned with bullion tassels, they separate -this apartment from another one behind it. Opposite this, facing the -garden, are pretty windows opening on a balcony, which has brilliant -colored awnings over it and seats upon it. - -Upon a cushioned lounge within the oriel window, the sun’s setting rays -tinting her dark hair, sits Hermoine. But even as he enters she is up -to meet him, saying: “I’ve made no change in my toilet; I couldn’t bear -to keep you waiting, you—you are so hungry!” then cries out, clapping -hands: “Supper instantly.” - -At once the heavy tapestries in two of the arches, drawn up by bullion -cords drape themselves in graceful festoons, showing the dining-room, -in which stands a table covered with snowy linen, decorated by silver -and gold plate, sparkling with Venetian glass, and made pretty by -flowers. - -“Colonel Amati, thy arm!” murmurs Hermoine, and putting a white hand -within his, the two go in together to a meal served in a luxury Guy has -never seen before, even at the court of Elizabeth; for there are -strangely curious implements to eat with called forks, of which he does -not know the use, preferring as a polished English gentleman his -fingers and a napkin. - -But his hostess insists on showing him how to use these Italian -inventions, and teaches him how to get the instrument into his mouth -without skewering his tongue, over which Guy laughs rather ruefully, -crying: “I pray you, lady Hermoine, don’t make me lose more blood!” - -At this she grows a little pale, and looking at him mutters: “Your -wounds, oh yes!—your awful wounds. Eat and grow strong for my sake.” -Then her loving hands compel Guy to make a giant meal, to which he is -nothing loath, as the cuisine is of the finest and the wine of the -rarest Spanish vintages—the Rhine wine cooled with snow and ice—a new -wrinkle in luxury to which the English sailor does the fullest justice. - -All this time the girl eats nothing, making her meal off Guy with her -eyes. - -“You—you eat nothing, my Hermoine,” whispers the cavalier, becoming -anxious on his side. - -“Oh, I’ve grown used to fasting,” she says, “you know I was preparing -myself for convent life. Wouldn’t it have been horrible?” and a -charming moue gives piquancy to the embrio nun. - -“You would have entered a convent for my sake?” - -“I thought so. There was a great house in Valladolid—that I was to be -the Lady Abbess of—I was to dower it so grandly—” - -“You—a lady abbess?” - -“Yes. Don’t I look austere?” prattles Miss Happiness. “Perhaps, though, -I would have changed my mind. I was getting tired of the prayer-book -already. But now I think no more of midnight vigils—oh, Guido mio—tell -me it is not a dream.” - -“I’ll do more—I’ll prove it!” whispers Guy, and rises from the table. - -He looks as if he would like to make love again. And perhaps being very -willing for him to have his way in this matter, the young lady gives a -signal to her two Moorish girls who have waited upon them, as Chester -and Hermoine pass from the dining-room to the other apartment, the -curtains fall behind them, and they are alone. - -“Come into the window; we’ll have moonlight later,” remarks the young -lady. And somehow they find themselves side by side looking over the -soft waves of the Schelde, a gentle summer breeze coming in upon them -from the open casement. “Would you like music?” suggests the lady. - -“Your voice is enough for me.” - -“Oh,” cries Hermoine, “I play the mandolin; I’ve some accomplishments. -Besides I can dance the cachuca and the bolero. To-morrow evening I’ll -have entertainment for thee. My Moorish girls play the harp and guitar, -and I’ll invite De Busaco over.” - -“Invite no one, please.” - -“Not even little De Busaco, who would not believe you were dead?” - -“No.” - -“Do you know, perchance, he guesses our secret?” - -“Why?” - -“When he came to me he brought two letters he had found, having taken -charge of your baggage. He handed them to me, remarking: ‘I think these -may have interest for you.’ You, my Guido, didn’t keep them with you.” -There is reproach in her eyes. - -“I kept your letter with me,” answers Guy, with happy inspiration. - -“My letters” corrects the girl; “I sent you three.” - -“Oh, yes, but I—I call this one your letter, the one that came to me -last, the one that I carried with me to stain with my blood, the one -that sent me to win promotion against the English captain,” and Chester -produces the epistle taken from the dead Guido Amati after the battle -on the ice. - -“Yes, the letter for which I cursed myself,” cries Hermoine, “the one I -had supposed had brought you death for love of me; the letter that -asked you to capture that brave Englishman, I’ll not call him cruel -now.” With this the girl sheds tears upon the missive Guy has given to -her, and murmurs: “Tell me all about your adventures when away from -me.” - -Thus compelled Chester gives a detailed account of the skirmish on the -ice, from the Spanish standpoint, and finally tells her that he really -thinks one more battle will make him a general; and so goes on weaving -the threads very deftly that Colonel Guido Amati de Medina, all unknown -to himself, is bringing together to cause the extraordinary catastrophe -that will shortly come upon him. - -A minute after he says, looking over the Schelde: “Are you not afraid -of visits from these Beggars of the Sea?” - -“No,” replies Hermoine, “Every fighter of them has gone to Holland. -Besides, I have eight armed lackeys within the house and stables, four -more as escort of the galley, there is a garrison at Lillo, and half a -company at Sandvliet, just round that point.” Her white arm makes -graceful gesture. “I am safe here from every one but you, my Guido.” - -And Guy, looking over the waters of the Schelde now illuminated by the -rising moon, thinks: “Safe from all but me.” For he sees in the Krom -Vliet, just against the South Beveland shore, the masts of the Dover -Lass, and into his head has come a plan by which he will take Hermoine -de Alva at her word and make her his very own. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -THE DAUGHTER’S DOWER. - - -To make preparations for this Chester’s time is desperately short. He -must advance as rapidly as possible his action as to Alva’s treasure; -besides this he wishes to guard most tenderly the good name of this -woman who proves her love of him with every look of her eyes. - -Therefore, after some half hour more of confidences in which the girl -gives him one or two beautiful glimpses of her lovely soul, the -Englishman, fighting with his very self, rises to go, reluctantly, -lingeringly, but still—to go. - -“Oh, not so soon,” pleads Hermoine. “You’ve—you’ve been away so long!” - -“But I’ll be back to-morrow.” - -“At what hour?” - -“In the evening.” - -“In the evening? Ah! That is many seconds from now.” - -“I can’t come before, but I’ll be here as early as possible. For that -you have my word.” - -“Where are you stopping?” - -“On board the vessel that brought me from the North, the Esperanza.” - -“The Esperanza? The fort at Lillo is nearer to me!” - -“At Lillo perhaps the commander would think me well enough for duty. I -should have a garrison routine and would not be my own master to come -to see you at my will.” - -“Yes, you’re right. My wounded hero, who made that wondrous march over -the drowned lands over there deserves a lazy month or two. All Brabant, -Flanders and Spain rang with the glory of that march.” And the girl -puts her arms about him whispering compliments that would make Guy very -happy did he not know that they belong to the passed away Guido Amati. -Then seeing his determination, she adds: “If you must go I’ll have -three minutes more of you.” - -“How?” - -“By going to your boat to see you off.” - -Putting her hand in his arm she strolls with him down the little path, -the poplars throwing shadows on it here and there. Each time they reach -a shadow they pause for a farewell—and as they near the boat each -farewell grows longer and more drawn out, so it is many minutes before -they reach the last shadowed nook and stand there listening to the -sailors’ voices coming up to them from the landing. The men are making -merry, having brought provisions and wine with them for their stay. -Then the girl suddenly puts her arms about the lost one that has -returned to her and whispers impulsively: “Oh, my Guido, if we never -had to say good-night!” - -“That time is coming soon.” - -“Soon? Papa doesn’t even know yet.” - -“Nevertheless the time is coming soon. I swear to you by this!” And Guy -Chester, leaving Hermoine’s fair cheeks very blushing and her dark eyes -in grandest brunette sparkle, walks down the stairs to the landing -place and gets into his gig, in his heart a great determination to make -good his words. - -Curiously his boat does not drive up the Schelde, but turns the other -way, and after a two hours’ hard pull, the tide being against it, makes -the Dover Lass, in the cabin of which Chester has long and careful -converse with Dalton. - -The immediate result of this is that the long boat of his vessel is put -overboard fully armed and equipped, and all that night and the -succeeding ones patrols the Schelde in front of Dona Hermoine’s country -house, guarding the slumbers of Alva’s daughter. For Chester has not as -much faith as his sweetheart in the absence of all marauding Gueux, and -has made up his mind that no other pirate shall carry off his treasure. - -Then aided by the tide, Guy’s boat drives up the Schelde, getting to -Antwerp docks in time to give him a few hours’ sleep before daybreak. -On the first rise of the sun he is up. - -Giving orders to Martin Corker, who is in charge, to hasten the landing -of the cargo, which is mostly light silks prepared purposely for quick -discharge, Chester receives astonishment. - -“We’ve got too few hands to do it very quick,” grumbles the boatswain. - -“How so? You’ve thirty!” - -“Thirty yesterday—but Bodé Volcker, whose directions you told me to -follow, came down before sunset last night and took off twelve men with -their duds and bedding to sleep in the town.” - -“All right,” answers the captain, but goes hurriedly up to the house on -the Meir to find the reason of this. - -Here getting immediate word with Bodé Volcker, who is awake and in his -counting room, Guy finds that the merchant has entered into this -business of treasure-stealing with true mercantile rapacity. - -“I’ve got everything running now,” remarks Niklaas. “Leave the whole -thing to me. You’d better not be known much in the matter. I have -discovered easily enough from people about the docks that old Señora -Sebastian, who is called ‘Dumb Devil’ on account of her infernal temper -and lack of tongue to express it with, keeps a sailors’ lodging house -for her dissipated livelihood, dividing her time between rum and sleep. -Now the shipping of this port has fallen off greatly, owing to the -accursed tenth penny tax.” - -“Yes,” answers Guy, “the docks are not half full of vessels. But what -has this to do with our matter?” - -“This! As there are few vessels there are few sailors to board, and -Mother Dumb Devil had only two last night, a Norwegian and a Frenchman. -Now she has fourteen, twelve of your men, who occupy the balance of the -house and have gone in there with their duds and bedding, each man of -them carrying a large bed-tick filled with straw.” - -“What is your plan?” - -“This: we get the Norwegian and the Frenchman drunk—dead drunk; ship -’em drunk on a vessel of mine, and to-morrow morning they wake up upon -the open ocean outside the Schelde bound for the other end of the -world. Then we get Mother Dumb Devil drunk and insensible; fill up the -two now vacant berths in the house with two more of your sailors——you -have very careful men?” - -“Yes. They know their lives depend upon their caution.” - -“Then there is room for no more boarders and the house is our own for a -few hours, in which we make our examination, and if all is right get -the treasure of Alva; your sailors bringing it out each day, as their -bedding——only the bed-ticks will be filled with doubloons instead of -straw—next a new lot of your men with fresh bedding.” - -“This is as good a plan,” answers Guy, considering, “as you could have -hit upon. There is but one serious danger. Is the house watched by some -of Alva’s agents?” - -“That I have investigated, and I think no one connected with Alva or -the Spanish government has ever been near the place since it was let to -Señora Sebastian. But,” adds the merchant, rubbing his head, “that is -what frightens me! Do you suppose such an astute man would take no -precautions to inform himself of the safety of his treasure? Mark my -words, there’s something in that Alva’s statue that we don’t know of.” - -“If you’re afraid to make the venture, I am not,” says Guy -determinedly. “I’ll take the risk.” - -“Well, perhaps it were better you go in first,” returns Bodé Volcker. -“You have the greatest interest in the matter. Then, if it should come -to fighting, you would have a thousand chances to my none.” - -So the matter is arranged, and Bodé Volcker does his part of the work -thoroughly. Four hours after this the Norwegian and French sailors are -drunk; the next day they awake tossing upon the open ocean, aboard a -ship bound for the Indies, a cruise that will last three years. At dusk -the merchant comes to Chester, who waits in his counting room, and -whispers: “Mother Dumb Devil is dead drunk also; do your work.” - -“Show me the place.” And Guy, taking Corker with him, is led by Niklaas -to a street just on the town side of the Esplanade, where, among -tumble-down dwellings as wretched and dirty as itself, stands the house -of Señora Sebastian. One of Guy’s sailors lets them in, the merchant -not even entering the place, only pointing it out from round the -corner. - -“Where is the mistress of the house?” - -“Dead drunk upstairs, captain,” whispers the man. “She was raving an -hour ago, but now she’s good for an all night snore—she’s a rum -one—dumb, but snores like old Neptune himself.” - -Inspecting the woman, Chester finds the report correct, and leaving a -rum bottle handy to keep her quiet in any event—he comes down stairs -and says hastily “To work.” - -With this Guy and Corker enter the cellar and get to business by the -light of a flickering oil lamp. - -To Chester’s delight, after taking up the four stones in the center, he -finds a heavy slab, made easy to handle by an iron ring inserted in its -top. But it will not move to their combined strength until they use a -crowbar. A hasty examination discloses that it has evidently been -undisturbed for a year or two, and that time has settled and cemented -it into its place. As they pry it up a little shaft is uncovered with a -ladder leading down it. - -This is scarce ten feet in depth, and lowering the flickering lantern, -they see a passage leading from it in the right direction. - -“Now,” whispers Guy to Corker, “keep watch here. If you’re attacked -make the best fight you can and warn and save me if possible. If not, -remain exactly as you are.” - -“You’d better let me go with you, captain!” - -“No, I’ll risk my own life first. I have the drawings, I have the -light, I have the keys.” - -First lowering the lantern to the bottom to be sure that there is no -foul air that may bring him death, Chester descends and finds a paved -passageway scarce large enough for two men to pass abreast, with a -vaulted arch of masonry overhead. Striding along this, though his heart -beats faster, his nerves act steadily. - -Within two hundred feet from the bottom of the shaft he encounters the -first iron doors. These are immensely strong, and would yield to -nothing save explosion. Inspecting by the lantern’s light the -instructions for the use of the successive keys, though Guy has already -memorized them, he oils the first key with finest olive oil and inserts -it. - -The locks have evidently been left in perfect order and secured against -all damp and rust. The key turns readily. Then the second is tried; -again the wards yield; next the third with equal success. Withdrawing -this Chester discovers how beautiful is the mechanism of the Italian, -for the two immense iron doors would swing on their hinges to an -infant’s touch. - -So far the dying Paciotto has told him the truth. - -He goes on more confidently. The second pair of doors, from the surging -of the waters that he hears faintly above him, he knows is under the -moat itself. These yielding with equal readiness to the talisman he -holds, disclose to Chester the apparatus the engineer had spoken of, -and of which he holds the drawing in his hand, the one regulating the -valves that will deluge him with the waters of the moat if Alva’s -statue is destroyed. - -Following the directions on the paper, he disconnects these, shutting -off connection with the moat, and to make things doubly sure wedges -these valves in their places. - -Then he passes to the third doors. These are the ones that will open -upon Alva’s treasure house. His heart, which has been regular in its -beats until now, begins to thump in spasms as he uses the keys -carefully—almost lingeringly, as if afraid to see what is within. - -Finally the wards yield three times, he presses the doors open, and -holding his lantern in front of him would stride on, but suddenly -stumbles, there is a clanking sound, and he falls groveling in the -midst of bags of gingling coin. Then he holds the lantern up and gasps: -“By heavens, what a miser’s sight,” and laughs, but very softly, as if -he feared the twenty feet of solid rock and the great Bastion of the -Duke that stands above it are as tissue paper and will let forth even -his sighs. - -Recovering himself he makes rapid inspection of the treasure, -sufficient to know that there are four or five millions right to his -hand. - -Then he goes back and calling Corker to him, the seaman says: “Thing -didn’t work?” - -“Yes, it’s all right. Bring the men with you.” - -Taking these with him he makes account of the treasure; and there are, -as well as he can see—he may make a mistake of one or two—one hundred -and seventy-nine bags of gold, each sealed with Alva’s arms and labeled -twenty thousand crowns and about four hundred thousand Spanish silver -dollars in some two hundred and fifty sacks. Besides these there is a -strong case that Chester does not open, but guesses it contains jewels, -plate and such pleasant things. - -Leaving Corker in charge, he orders that each of the men carry out as -many sacks as possible to the cellar and to continue this work until he -returns. All this time he keeps four men heavily armed on guard at the -entrance, and these have orders to defend the house from any sudden -attack. - -Then going along the dark streets to the counting room of Bodé Volcker, -his step exalted and his mind on fire, Chester strides up to the -merchant, who says to him—for he has not been very long upon this -work—“No success—nothing!—a fool’s story!” - -“A fool’s story worth five millions!” - -“Hel en duivel! Five millions! God bless you, my noble boy. Let us go -and get it at once.” - -“No; there’s been no one troubling us,” jeers Guy. “For that reason -it’s dangerous, Bodé Volcker.” - -But Bodé Volcker can no more be kept from seeing Alva’s treasure than -he could be kept from running away from it before; and he goes back -with Guy to the house of Mother Dumb Devil. - -Here he says: “Leave everything in my charge. I’ll get it out; every -dollar shall be accounted for to you on the honor of a merchant.” - -To this Chester answers: “The honor of a merchant is sufficient for me. -But in our freebooter’s way, I have directed Corker to tally every bag -and store every coin on the Esperanza. We’ll divide it at Flushing. But -you get it out. You’re better at this business than I am.” - -And in truth Bodé Volcker is, for his whole soul is in the transaction, -while Guy has only half his heart in it, the best half being at -Sandvliet with Alva’s daughter. - -So the matter is arranged; the men are to carry out all the gold into -the cellar during this night, then the iron doors in the gallery are to -be closed again, all of them, and during the day Bodé Volcker is to -transfer the treasure done up as sailors’ bedding on board the -Esperanza. This his facilities as merchant permit him to do with little -chance of suspicion. The next night with fresh men they are to bring -out the silver from the vault to the cellar of the house and get it -away in the same manner during the daytime, also the box containing -jewels. - -“When we have the gold I think we’ll have the main value of it,” says -Bodé Volcker. “Meantime I’ll commence to put cargo into the Esperanza, -to give commercial reason for the vessel sailing from Antwerp again.” - -“You are commercially correct about this,” says Chester. With this he -orders Corker when the gold comes on board to store it under the cabin -in the place where the smuggled arquebuses had been concealed on their -previous visit to Antwerp. Then turning away and looking at his watch -he mutters with a start: “By heaven, eight o’clock! I can’t get through -the gates of the town. I shall break my appointment.” - -“Ah! At Sandvliet?” chuckles the merchant to him. - -“Yes.” - -“I thought so. But I can get you out of the gates now. Spanish troops -no longer guard them. We have our civic guards on duty. Lieutenant -Karloo, at the main port, is a friend of mine. I’ll go with you.” - -At the city gate Guy finds very little trouble when vouched for by Bodé -Volcker, as the Spanish garrison has been so reduced in Antwerp by -drafts on it for the war in Holland that it is now only enough to -properly man and guard the Citadel itself. The Fortress dominates the -town and could prevent any rebellion or uprising, but the policing of -the place is left entirely to the burghers themselves. - -This also makes it easier, Guy thinks delightedly, to pass the gold -through the gates and load it on his ship; there not being that -discipline among the civic guards as prevails among the veteran -soldiers of Alva. So it is with a light heart that Chester once more -sails down the Schelde for the landing-place at Sandvliet, cogitating: -“Now I’ve handled the daughter’s dower, I’m ready for Miss Hermoine -herself!” - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -“PAPA’S COMING! I’LL—I’LL DO IT!” - - -“It is fully ten o’clock—but better late than never,” thinks Guy—as he -springs on the landing, flies up the stairway, and traverses with hasty -feet the little path at Sandvliet. “Egad! She’s not gone to bed yet, -anyway,” he laughs, noting that the apartments in which Hermoine had -received him before are brilliantly lighted. He sounds the bronze -knocker at the door. - -This is instantly opened by Alida, who is apparently waiting. She -whispers hastily: “Her Excelentisima is expecting you.” - -“She is alone?” - -“Yes, Señor Coronel.” - -Drawing aside the draperies of the door Chester steps in to be -enchanted by the beauty that bursts on his eyes. - -The room is lighted by hanging lamps of perfumed oil, adorned with -flowers in vases of Venetian glass, but standing with a savage little -pout upon her coral lips is the goddess of this fair domain. She is -robed in lightest evening dress of floating gauzy tissue of palest -amber. This soft floating stuff is thrown about her in great masses, -giving an almost cloud-like effect, from which her round arms and -beautiful bosom and shoulders rise ivory like, gleaming under the -lights as if issuing from some floating summer cloud just tinged by the -sun’s rays. Above the white column of her neck posed in a piquant grace -is her exquisite face, covered by the soft and wavy tresses of her dark -hair, to which flowers give a soft effect, and lighted by indignant -eyes that flash now with brightest brunette gleam. Thus she stands -looking the fairy of a fairy scene. - -She has apparently been very eagerly and savagely discontented, for a -little foot that peeps from under a petticoat of Malines’ lace is -beating a drum solo on the polished floor, and her eyes, though -scintillating, are teary as Guy enters. These light up now with radiant -happiness and joyous sparkle, and she is at his side murmuring welcome. -A second after she whispers: “I thought you were never coming. You -could not have been very eager!” - -“I had business.” - -“Business? What business has a lazy dandy of the army on sick leave?” -and Doña Hermoine puts doubting nose into the air. - -“Business getting my fortune in such shape that I can make proper -showing to your father when I demand your hand from him,” answers Guy, -telling for once the truth; but adding another link in that strange -chain which leads up to the wonders Providence holds in her hand for -him. - -“Oh, you needn’t have thought of that,” cries the girl. “I have money -enough for both. Do you suppose I marry you for your money, Guido, when -I have princely estates in Italy that are to be all yours, my lord?” -And she courtesies before him, then mutters pleadingly: “You’ve only -kissed me once!” - -“How could I when you had your nose in the air?” - -“That brought my lips nearer to yours,” she laughs. - -But during the evening she has no reason to complain of this neglect -again; for Guy has been gazing on her beauty, that seems to him more -wondrous than ever, and drinks it in as a man does strong wine that -almost makes him lose his head. - -“You seem en fête,” he murmurs into the pink ear that is so close to -his lips. - -“But only for you; you remember my lord commanded me no guests.” - -“And you obeyed me?” - -“Yes—are you not to be my lord?” - -“You heed my behests as well as you would your father’s?” laughs -Chester. - -“Oh, much better! Papa says that I’m his tyrant and the real Viceroy of -the Netherlands, but that isn’t true,” says the girl intensely; then -sighs: “If I were this would be a different land”—next cries out -harshly: “But don’t talk of it. Keep me from brooding over what has -caused me so many tears. Let me only remember we are here -together—happy! And I’m going to make you very happy to-night, my -Guido.” - -“Impossible to make me happier than I am,” whispers Chester, looking in -rapture at the beauty he now thinks so nearly is his own. - -“Oh yes I can. You don’t know what I’ve prepared for you. It seemed to -me we didn’t entertain you properly last evening. I would have spoken -to the Countess de Pariza had she come to-day, and had rebec players -from Antwerp to give us music floating on the water outside the -windows. That would have been romantic as the troubadours and Venetian -night, would it not, my Guido?” - -“That shall be my business next time,” mutters the enraptured Chester. - -“But still I’ve done the best I can for you. My Moorish girls shall -play and dance for you later—at present I will amuse you myself. I -feared from your remark last night you thought I had no -accomplishments. Listen!” And despite Guy’s protests that he would -sooner do nothing but make love, his sweetheart, seizing from a near-by -chair a mandolin with which she has apparently been passing the time -until he came, sits down and looking in his face, plays a pretty little -prelude. Then the voice that the Dutch Sea Beggar said was like the -angel’s tone in the organ at Amsterdam, sings for him a Moorish melody, -soft, tropical, languid, with that grace and lightness that only belong -to sunny Italy and Spain. This emphasized and made piquantly charming -by languid yet impassioned glances, puts Guy beside himself, and the -song finishes with a little gasp of surprise; for the last note, though -intended for his ear, is deposited right in the long drooping mustache -of her betrothed, and shortened in a way unknown to scientific music. - -“Madre mia!” laughs the girl, “one would think that you were the -composer of this song. You have destroyed my great high note.” - -“Let me continue it!” This comes in a harsh, rasping voice from behind -them. - -And the two starting up, confront Hermoine’s duenna, the Countess de -Pariza, who stands glaring at them and in defense of outraged etiquette -bursts forth: “I had expected, Doña de Alva, to join you this -afternoon, but was detained by errands in the city. I come to find that -I should not have gone away. I am surprised that one brought up under -my charge should have entertained a cavalier alone.” - -“Not when that cavalier is my affianced husband, Colonel Guido Amati. -You saw him before, you remember, at the merchant Bodé Volcker’s. You—” - -Just here with rolling eyes and wildest shriek her duenna cries: - -“Guido Amati! the man that was killed! Oh heaven, a ghost! Holy Virgin, -save me from the ghost!” and sinks down uttering Latin prayers before -them. - -But Hermoine breaks in laughing: “No. Not dead! He needn’t be -exorcised! This is flesh and blood, feel him, feel his lips!” - -At this Chester whispers: “No, no!” - -“Yes, yes, kiss her hand. She likes the homage of gentlemen; kiss her -hand! I’ll give you permission. I shan’t be jealous, Guido mio.” And -following her directions Guy laughingly places a kiss upon the mature -fingers upraised in prayer. - -This touch seems to sooth her, and seeing he is not a ghost, the -Countess de Pariza rises up, becomes a duenna again, and says -haughtily: “Then Colonel Guido Amati not being a ghost, I must request -the gentleman to discontinue his visits here until I have informed my -lord of Alva of his pretensions to your hand.” - -“The gentleman will not discontinue his visits to my house!” answers -Hermoine, a defiant light in her eyes. - -“You forget you are speaking to your duenna.” - -“Remember I am Doña de Alva!” - -“Very well, in that case I shall send letter to your father at once.” - -“You will make no mention of this to my father. I will tell him in my -own way at my own time.” - -“Won’t I!” breaks out the duenna. “Won’t I! Do you think I could bear -your father’s anger?” - -“Then take MINE!” cries the girl, and walking up to her duenna, a great -flash in her haughty eyes, she says: “Dare to breathe word of this to -any one until I give you my orders to that effect, and I tell my father -that four years ago, when I was too young for you to think I noticed -the affairs of State, you, for two thousand crowns in hand, gave -warning to young Brederode so that he escaped from Brussels and arrest -and execution!” - -“What proofs have you of this?” gasps the Countess. - -“Only Brederode’s letter thanking you for giving him warning, and -stating that he had paid you enough and would give you no more. I have -it locked up. Do you suppose that I would have let you stay here by me -unless I knew that I could dominate you when I pleased?” jeers -Hermoine. - -“I—I had such need of money,” stammers La Pariza. - -“Dost think that will save you from the punishment—you know what my -father decrees to any one assisting an escape—first the rack—and then -the fagots!” This awful doom comes from the girl’s lips cool as from an -iceberg; and gazing at her, Chester knows his betrothed is Alva’s -daughter. - -“No—no! Mercy!” sobs the Countess. - -“Then down on your knees and swear to me by the cross of Christ that -you will not breathe of my betrothal to living thing. Swear it—down on -your knees and swear it!” cries Hermoine in awful voice. - -“I—I swear,” gasps the duenna. - -“On your knees and with the cross upon your lips. Down! Swear it by the -Seven Saints of Christendom, by the Twelve Evangelists, by the Four -Apostles, by all the sacraments of the church, by the body of our Lord -to hold, despite anathema and dispensation both—swear!” - -And sinking to the floor the Countess de Pariza, affrighted, takes the -oath prescribed by Alva’s daughter, who places the crucifix upon her -lips. - -“What need of such long testament?” asks Guy, who has looked upon the -scene astonished, Miss Hermoine, giving him new views of her character. - -“Because I don’t trust her,” answers the girl. “It will be cunning -priest that will get her out of that. Break it and your soul flies -straight through purgatory to unending torment, Countess de Pariza.” - -“I—I always thought you loved me,” gasps the duenna, rising from her -knees. - -“Loved you?” ejaculates her charge, a strange light in her eyes. “Dost -think I have forgotten when I was twelve years old you slapped my ears? -Don’t think I fear you, though! Let that be for your Moorish slave girl -who goes to your dressing closet as to the torture chamber. I heard her -shriek under your scourge the other morning. But don’t dare, with -coward nature, to revenge yourself on her. Beware of me, I hate -cruelty! I am Alva’s daughter!” - -At this astounding conjunction Guy bites his lips, fighting down a -smile and Doña de Pariza gives out a half-smothered chuckle. - -But the girl steps up to her and cries: “Don’t dare to look as if you -jeered my father’s name; don’t dare to accuse him of cruelty. He has -always been good to me as an angel. I’ll not hear it from your lips—or -YOURS EITHER!” for a little of Guy’s smile has escaped from him, and -she comes walking up to her lover with haughty face, saying: “Remember, -I am a Viceroy’s daughter.” - -“Penalty!” laughs Chester. - -“Oh yes—oh—oh—I forgot! Yes, my lord!” and making obeisance to him. As -he exacts the forfeit she whispers: “Oh Santos! you are awful—you kiss -me every chance you get.” - -At this scene Duenna de Pariza glares astounded, and mutters to -herself: “God be praised, Miss Spitfire has at last found her master! -This worthless, dissipated Guido Amati will make her dance to his -fiddling, I warrant you!” then goes to her chamber, leaving the two -alone, at which they are nothing loath. - -Could La Pariza gaze in upon them one moment later she would be even -more astounded, for she would see Colonel Guido Amati giving Miss -Hermoine a little lecture upon the advantages of keeping both temper -and tongue well in hand. - -To this the girl listens attentively with downcast eyes in a manner -that rather astonishes but intensely delights Guy, as he has now made -up his mind that there is only one way to gain this lady of his -love—that is to carry her off; and to do that he feels he must dominate -her completely, entirely. - -But continuing this lecture a little too long, she suddenly cries: -“Bug-a-boo! Bug-a-boo! Viceroy’s daughter!” and dances up laughing. And -he, pursuing her, to exact penalty; they have a merry race of it about -tables and chairs and over divans, Hermoine gathering up her long court -train and fleeing with dainty feet and agile ankles before him, until -at last he catches her at the third curtained arch of the room, one -whose drapery he has never yet seen raised. - -Here she, as he holds her in his arms, grows very serious and whispers: -“Don’t scold me; if you say the word I’ll do penance, my Guido, for -being haughty with you, but not with her. In here I’ll say ten Ave -Marias for you to-night.” Then drawing aside the curtains she shows him -the chapel of the house, illuminated, behind whose burning tapers -stands the picture painted by his dead friend, the masterpiece of -Oliver, and murmurs: “Here is where I pray for you!” - -“Yes,” responds Guy, pointing to the lovely Madonna, “I worship at that -same shrine myself.” - -“Hush, don’t jest,” answers the girl solemnly. “This is the chapel in -which we will be married.” - -This idea puts Chester’s thoughts into a horrible jumble, and he makes -a fearful mistake, over which they have their first real discussion, -for he suggests very deftly the plan of secret marriage. - -At this she says haughtily: “Unknown to my father, without his consent, -he who loves me? Never!” and becomes distant to her Guido for four or -five minutes. - -But he, deftly withdrawing from the matter, and pleading it is only his -wild love for her, Hermoine forgives him and finally sends him away -very happy, more wildly in love than ever, but now knowing that he has -a very ticklish business before him—to kidnap this young lady and yet -keep her affection. - -The interview with the Countess de Pariza shows him that speed is now -vital to his success, and that any long delay in the matter will -probably be fatal to his scheme and perchance his life. - -But the girl has her plan of action also and a courier arriving the -next morning with letters from Holland, she claps her hands in glee at -some sudden idea that has entered her vivacious brain and murmurs: -“Papa’s coming. I’ll—I’ll do it! Hurrah! I’ll do it!” - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -“MY LORD OF ALVA!” - - -Unknowing Doña de Alva’s plans for his welfare, her sweetheart, like -prudent man, goes about getting together the little fortune with which -he intends to begin housekeeping; and next morning in Antwerp remains -on his vessel taking charge of the storage and tallying the bags of -gold that a few hours before belonged to his future father-in-law and -now are his. - -These come on board packed securely in wool and done up in the sailors’ -bedding, and were it not for their weight, would seem very much like -what they pretend to be; however, they are all handled by Chester’s own -crew, and the heavier the sack the better pleased is the seaman who -carries it. In truth, it is only by the sternest command and -threatening to kill the first one who cheers that Chester keeps the -delight of his tars from becoming evident to the surrounding vessels. - -Corker himself brings down the first load. - -“Bodé Volcker is as grand a buccaneer as ever walked the plank,” -whispers that mariner as he makes report to Chester. “He would fight to -the death for the gold bags. He’s already given Jamaica twice to old -Mother Sebastian, and it’ll be the devil looking after his own if she -doesn’t die of rum before we get the last sack out of the house. Bodé’s -got cords to tie her with if the worst comes to the worst; her being -without squeal makes the thing neat and easy. No need of gags, just -simply bind her to the bed-posts and she’s fixed.” - -All that day the gold comes steadily on board and by the evening, for -the men work very hard, Chester finds he has beneath the cabin floor of -the Esperanza one hundred and seventy-nine bags of gold sealed with -Alva’s arms; and calculating them at twenty thousand crowns each, he -finds he has three million five hundred and eighty thousand crowns. -This tallies exactly with Corker’s counting of the sacks. - -Then leaving the men under Niklaas to get out the silver and the chest -of unknown valuables, Martin Corker being kept in charge of the ship, -as the Esperanza with the gold on board is very precious now, Chester -takes boat and passing down the Schelde again arrives at Sandvliet, -eagerly impatient for sight of sweetheart. - -In this respect Doña Hermoine seems equally anxious. Apparently on the -lookout for the boat, she runs down with happy eyes to meet Guy at the -landing, crying, with joyous voice: “Good news! Good news!” - -“What news?” Chester asks anxiously—almost any news is bad news to him -now. - -“Papa is coming—he will be here soon. Then you shall ask him in -person.” - -“When will my lord duke be here?” - -“In three or four days his letter said.” - -“A—ah!” This is a big sigh of relief, for Guy now knows the next night -will settle his business one way or the other with this fair being, who -clings to his arm as he strides up the path to the house, her little -feet making two steps to his one. - -He has determined that the succeeding night will settle whether she -shall be his wife and joy during all his life, or it will be the last -of her. This thought makes his manner very tender to her, for come what -may he knows she loves him. - -Then tête-à-tête in the oriel window over the Schelde, they have -pleasant converse together, though he tells her his time with her must -be short. - -“Short? Why?” she pouts to this suggestion. - -“Because I am making arrangements about my fortune; you know, to make -proper showing to your father.” - -“Oh yes, I’ve heard that before! My lord of Alva has always been to me -loving and indulgent. As such he will not refuse my request. I have -heard him speak of you, my Guido, as the bravest man in the army of -Spain; that means a great deal where so many men are brave. That march -you made will make him love you as it does me.” - -This praise of the dead man in whose shoes he stands drives from Guy’s -tongue a confession that has been almost upon it once or twice in these -last two days. He fears the effect of revelation upon his sweetheart -and thinks tremblingly: “God help me if she loves my name, not me!” - -Perhaps later in the evening he might tell his story to Hermoine, for -he thinks it almost a justice to her that she know the truth—did not an -incident come to these two that seems trivial, but has greater effect -than either guesses upon their lives. - -Guy has laughingly inquired about the Countess de Pariza. - -“Since last night she has not spoken to me. She keeps to her own suite -of apartments,” answers the young lady. “That woman, if she dared, -would betray me; as it is I pity her Moorish slave girls. You know when -papa gave me present of Zora he made Alida gift to the Countess de -Pariza. But I liked Alida best, and to take her away from her -tyrant—for that’s what my duenna is—you needn’t stay my lips at every -word, though it is pleasant, Guido mio—I have succeeded in exchanging -their services and Alida waits on me and Zora on the Countess. It was a -bargain, though no writing passed between us. But to-day, this very -morning, she claimed again the duty of Alida. Is it to revenge herself -on her?” she goes on intensely. “If so; if she puts hands on the poor -girl, let her beware of Hermoine de Alva.” - -As she speaks the girl, springing from Guy’s arms, starts up and -whispers: “What’s that? Hark! My heaven, it is Alida!” - -For a faint wailing sigh seems to come floating to the room from some -distant apartment. “It is Alida! That coward has struck her!” she cries -as the sound of agony comes floating in again. - -And in a flash, with blazing eyes and vengeance on her face, Hermoine -de Alva darts from the room, Guy following her, his feet scarce keeping -up with her rapid flight. Turning up a passage, he finds himself—for -the girl has hurriedly dashed open a door—gazing on a curious picture. - -It is the chamber of the duenna; in it stands Doña de Pariza, with -vicious whip upraised, and cowering before her crouches Alida, the -Moorish slave. But the lash does not descend. With the spring of a -young tigress Hermoine plucks the whip from the astounded Countess. - -“How dare you intrude into my chamber?” cries the duenna. - -“How dare you strike one that belongs to me?” - -“Your pardon, Doña de Alva,” sneers La Pariza. “This girl is the gift -of your father to me. Give me my whip, that I may continue my -correction.” - -“Never! Alida is mine; you made her over to me in words; she is mine to -love, mine to protect, she is my Alida. Cruel one! you have asked for -your whip! You shall have it!” And an avenging goddess is standing over -the shuddering duenna, who gives an affrighted scream. - -But Guy has hand upon the white arm that is upraised. - -“I’ll do it if she dares to touch her again!” says Hermoine savagely to -Guy; then whispers gently: “Alida, go to my chamber and stay; there you -are safe,” next breaks out: “Let her dare to lay hand on you and I’ll -not respect even her gray hairs!” - -“Perdition! my wig!” screams La Pariza, and they leave her tearing her -scant locks. They have intruded into the apartment of romantic old age, -and the Countess without false hair and other artifices for effacing -the traces of decay makes an ugly picture that now becomes an awful -one; for on her face is now added to the ravages of time—demoniac hate. - -As Guy leads his sweetheart away he whispers: “Did you note her -countenance? She is now your enemy for life.” - -“Pish! What care I?” laughs Doña de Alva haughtily. Then she murmurs: -“I’m glad you stopped me from degrading myself to her level. Had I -touched her I should have been ashamed of it. When I’m thine by the -rights of Mother Church, bring a man’s forbearance to bear upon my -woman’s weakness.” - -This kind of adulation makes Guy feel ashamed of himself, for he is in -his brawls with equals very headstrong and sometimes cruel and -bloodthirsty, and among his sailors he is not light of hand with -marling-spike and rope’s end when it is necessary for discipline of -ship. - -Hermoine’s very glorification of him makes Chester hesitate to tell her -that he has been, in all his wooing of her, another being than the -Guido Amati she thinks she loves. But all the same he would not lose -her for the world, and will take the chance even of her reproach and -anger to make her his by right of church in face of man and God. - -To do this he has many preparations still to make. And getting from her -arms once more he bids her adieu, saying: “To-morrow evening at nine -o’clock precisely. Remember, I shall have for you a little water fête. -The moon will not be up, but it will rise before we return. Will you go -for a sail on the water with me to-morrow night, my love?” - -“Yes, and to-night if you would ask me,” laughs the girl. Then she says -wistfully: “If papa were only here, we could take him with us.” - -“I—I pray heaven no,” answers her lover with a start. - -“Oh, don’t fear, I am omnipotent over my Lord of Alva!” - -Kissing her hand to Guy and filled with this idea, Doña Hermoine runs -back to the house. - -This confidence in her power over Philip’s Viceroy brings sudden -changes over love’s young dream. - -The very next afternoon, with clanking spurs and covered with the dust -of travel, escorted by some thirty dashing horsemen, my lord of Alva -comes galloping up to Hermoine’s country house, there to receive a -daughter’s welcome and a daughter’s love. - -And oh! the happiness of that meeting! - -The girl runs out to him, crying: “I didn’t think you would be here so -soon; your letter said four days, My Lord of Alva!” And courtesies to -him; but he springs off war horse, his serpent’s eyes aflame with the -one love of his declining years, and taking to his heart his piquant -child, whispers: “Then you, my Hermoine, are sorry?” - -“Sorry that you have come?—delighted!” - -“You must know,” remarks the Duke as he passes into the house with her, -“after I had written to you I received courier from Antwerp that -brought me such news from D’Avila, in command, that made it necessary -for me to return to the Citadel for a day or two.” - -This is true; for beneath a long account of military advices as to -reinforcements, arms and munitions of war, and the various details of -the garrisons of Brabant and Flanders, Sancho D’Avila had chanced to -write almost as a postscript to the letter: “By the by, Your Highness -will be concerned to learn your old pensioner, the venerable Roderigo, -died four days ago.” - -It is this careless line that has brought My Lord of Alva so suddenly -from Nijmegen, where he has been forwarding munitions to the besieging -army round Haarlem. Within an hour of receipt of this Alva, with some -muttered execrations, has taken horse and journeyed from the town on -the Waal with his body guard, getting relays of horses at -Hertogenbosch, Breda and Bergen, and by quickest route coming up the -Schelde from that place to Antwerp. The road passing through Sandvliet, -and it being but five minutes’ ride to this thing he loves best upon -the earth, my lord has turned his bridle and is now in his daughter’s -arms. - -“I cannot stay long,” he remarks hurriedly; “I must be in Antwerp -to-night.” - -“To-morrow morning will do much better. Your chamber is always prepared -for you. It is never occupied by anyone else.” Here the girl blushes -suddenly, remembering that her Guido had usurped it for some fifteen -minutes of his time. “Sup with me you shall!” - -“Impossible, I must go on.” - -“You shan’t, papa, YOU SHAN’T! You’ve been away so long from orders -you’re becoming mutinous and undisciplined.” - -With this she treats him in a way that Alva loves from her, but would -permit from no one else upon this earth, man nor woman. While she is -speaking to him, despite his protestations, Doña Hermoine has got his -helmet off and is patting his gray locks and pulling the two long -tresses of his silver beard with her white hands and crying: “Now I -have you a prisoner! Ten kisses for your ransom!” - -“Santos y demonios! you’re the worst rebel in the Netherlands,” laughs -the Duke. - -“Yes, the most defiant and the only one who will conquer YOU!” - -This pleases my lord of Alva, who is in what is for him a jovial humor, -and he says: “You’re right; I have Haarlem now as surely in my grasp as -if I had my troops in that dogged town. De Bossu has defeated Marinus -Brandt upon the lake, the town is now cut off from provisions—it must -be mine. Then when I have trampled out these rebels and can hand over -this land unstained by sedition to my lord, Philip the King, we’ll go -back to Spain together, and away from the fogs of this northern -country, among the pomegranates, the vines, the cork trees and the -olives, we’ll forget there ever has been war.” - -“Yes,” cries the girl, “and we’ll take him with us.” - -“Him? Who?” - -“My coming husband.” - -“Thy coming husband! Of whom are you talking, child?” says Alva in -astounded voice. “Never saw I woman that was so free from earthly -loves!” Then he laughs: “This is a rare change. Last time you were -drooping. You had psalm-book in your hand and ritual, and talked of -being the bride of Mother Church.” - -“But that has all gone away.” - -“I am glad of it, though I should not have said you nay. My Hermoine -would have made a curious nun.” - -“Yes, she will make a better bride,” purrs the girl, going back to her -subject. “But I won’t tell you all about it unless you dine with me, -and only after dinner. See! Your escort are dismounting. They have had -a long ride. They are taking refreshment. Will not my lord have the -same mercy for himself he gives his soldiers? Besides, you look ill, -worried.” - -“Not at all. There’s only one thing on my mind; the errand I came for, -and that, though important, is not, I pray God, immediate.” - -“Then stay to dinner. I gave orders as I saw you ride up to the house.” -At this, clapping her hands, the curtains are drawn up, and the Duke, -taking his daughter’s arm, goes into the pleasures of the banquet. Here -for the first time since the night before, Hermoine sees the Countess, -and looking in her eyes knows that oath, or no oath, in some way she -will get word of what has happened unto my lord of Alva. - -But to Hermoine’s delight Don Fernando Alvarez de Toledo, Lord of Alva -and Duke of Huesca, spurred by curiosity, wishes tête-à-tête with his -lovely child, and to the astonishment and rage of her duenna says very -shortly: “Countess, I am glad to see you in your usual health. My -daughter and I, having weighty matters to discuss, would be alone. Good -afternoon, Doña de Pariza, I kiss your hand,” and he bows her to the -door with stately Spanish etiquette; then says: “Hermoine, your story. -Is it a jest about a lover, child?” - -“No jest.” - -“Tell me.” - -“After dinner, papa; not until wine has made your heart a little -softer. You have hardened it in Holland.” - -“Not unto thee,” says my Lord. “Tell me, pretty one.” - -“Not unless you let me sit upon your august knee.” - -With this she is upon his lap and with soft caresses and cooing words -of love and kisses and “Papa darlings” tells him of her lover. - -At which he opens his eyes and remarks: “Your Guido Amati; he was -reported dead after the battle on the ice, I think.” - -“Yes, but he has recovered from his wounds. Oh, it would take a great -deal to kill him! Remember his march across the Drowned Lands up there. -You passed the place to-day,” she points her hand. - -“Yes, I recollect. That was a feat worthy of the Cid,” says Alva, who, -above all, is a military tactician. - -“Ah! then give me to the Cid; the Cid would be worthy even of the -daughter of Alva. If Guido was worthy of the Cid he is worthy of me!” -And with pleadings, coaxings and caresses Hermoine wins from this man -who she thinks can refuse her naught, promise that he will grant her -hand to Colonel Guido Amati de Medina. - -“Now you must not go,” she pleads. “He is coming here this evening. You -must see him. You must make him as happy as I am. Father, I never loved -you until now.” - -“Oho!—If I had refused I suppose you would have hated me.” - -“I never think of hate with you; but then, you never do refuse. And as -you never say me nay, you’ll stay and meet him. Give him your blessing; -father, promise me as you love me, you will give Guido Amati as my -promised husband, your blessing.” - -“Then if I must do so, and you say I must,” mutters the Duke, a tremble -on his lips and a quiver in his eyelids, “I must first ride on to Lillo -and send from there a message to Sancho d’Avila.” - -“You’ll come back? He will be here at nine. You will come back—promise -it, swear it!” - -“I promise by this kiss.” - -“Then take two to make sure,” prattles Miss Hermoine with happy eyes. - -A moment after his escort being ready, pursued by kisses thrown from -fairy hands, the Duke mounts charger and canters off from the villa of -his daughter, whose eyes are streaming with happy tears and whose lips -are murmuring: “Father and future husband both together. To-night will -be a happy one for me!” - -Alva rides on to Lillo, and having word with Mondragon, the commandant, -charges him to send courier at once with a note he writes to Sancho -d’Avila, commandant of the Citadel at Antwerp. Then with a father’s -natural instinct of curiosity in regard to coming son-in-law, Don -Fernando, chatting with the officer in command, one of his favorites, -says: “Mondragon, do you know a certain Guido Amati, Colonel in -Romero’s Legion?” - -“Of course, your excellency, he was under me before he went to -Holland.” - -“Ah! Tell me of him.” - -“That’s little good, except that he was the bravest of the brave, and -as fine a swordsman as ever handled Toledo blade; but a more -undisciplined, gambling, rake and debauchee I never met, and I’m an old -campaigner.” - -“A debauchee undisciplined, a roué drunkard,” gasps His Highness, his -face growing even more pallid than is usual to his sallow cheeks. “You -are sure you know what you say, Mondragon?” - -“Certainly, I knew him well. But what matters it? Guido Amati is dead.” - -“Impossible; though I heard the rumor.” - -“It’s marked upon the muster-rolls of Romero’s command.” - -“Are you sure?” - -“Certainly!” - -“Then if alive his name would surely be on the roster of his regiment?” - -“As sure as there is paymaster in the army. Guido Amati is not a -gentleman to let his pay lapse by any negligence of his; but he is -surely dead. There are men, I think, in the garrison who saw him fall.” - -“Ah! in the battle on the ice?” - -“Yes. Young De Busaco, a lieutenant here on sick leave, and Sergeant -Gomez.” - -“Send for them at once,” says Alva, quite astounded and shaken at these -curious words. - -And De Busaco, coming into the apartment, salutes. - -“Lieutenant De Busaco, I believe?” remarks Don Fernando. - -“Yes, Your Highness, just promoted.” - -“You were at the battle on the ice?” - -“Yes, Your Highness.” - -“Who commanded there?” - -“Colonel Guido Amati.” - -“Was he killed there?” - -“I think so, Your Highness; I saw him fall.” - -“That’s very curious, when my daughter says he lives!” mutters the -Viceroy in an amazed tone. At this Mondragon and De Busaco open their -eyes, and the latter knows the catastrophe that he has sometimes -guessed might take place, will come. - -“You saw him fall?” queries Don Fernando, as if he can’t believe his -ears. - -“Yes, Your Highness.” - -“And you think he is dead?” - -“Yes, Your Highness, the Dutch butchered all our wounded.” - -“As they always do,” answers Alva. “I’m afraid I taught them that -trick. They’re ready students. Is Gomez in waiting?” - -“Yes, Your Highness.” - -And the bluff Sergeant stepping in, salutes with military precision my -lord of Alva and gives him information thus: - -“Yes, I saw Guido Amati fall. I tried to save him, but slipped and -broke my head on the ice in doing it, but by the blessing of God, -escaped.” - -“You know this man is dead.” - -“Yes—ten saints could not have saved him.” - -“Speak respectfully of the church! How do you know it?” - -“Because I saw three pikes driven through his body.” - -“That is sufficient,” mutters Alva in a dazed manner. “You can go, -Gomez.” - -“And three pikes through the body would kill even as tough a fighter as -Guido Amati,” remarks Mondragon; but as the sergeant turns his back the -commandant suddenly says: “What is the matter, Your Highness. You have -had bad news from Haarlem?” - -“Oh no, the best. They are eating grass in the streets now. We’ve -beaten Orange on the lake and dominate it. It is not Haarlem.” Then -Alva suddenly commands: “Order my escort at once. Is Gomez able to take -horse?” - -“Yes, your Excellency.” - -“Let him accompany them.” - -And followed by thirty men armed with lance and arquebus, my lord of -Alva clatters back to the dwelling of his daughter. On the way he calls -to his side the bluff Gomez and questions him: “What kind of a looking -man was this Guido Amati?” - -“Tall, well built, short crisp dark hair, eyes very black and reckless, -and a skin as swarthy as a washed-out Morisco.” - -“He had the manners of a gentleman, of course,” remarks the Viceroy. - -“As well as a soldier like myself could guess, your Highness, and the -tongue of one. It was said he spoke Castilian as purely as a priest.” - -“Very good, that will do, sergeant,” says the Viceroy. And they soon -arrive at the country house. - -But being a wary old tactician, my lord of Alva says nothing of the -strange revelation that has come to him at the Fort at Lillo, and -striding into Hermoine’s apartment, remarks: “My daughter, as we -promised we have returned to see this gentleman you love, Guido Amati; -who must be of wondrous strong frame.” - -“How so?” asks the girl. - -“He was desperately wounded at the Battle on the Ice.” - -“I should think so! Haven’t I seen the wounds? They’re awful!” This -last is a piquant shudder. - -“Seen the pike wounds through his body?” - -“No, but there was a cut upon his head that would have let out the life -of any but a Paladin.” - -“Humph! they say your Paladin is a dissipated fellow.” - -“That’s a falsehood! some rival sends forth this story about him every -time. Why, even at the house of Bodé Volcker,” goes on Hermoine, “that -fibbing merchant told me he was drunk, when two seconds after my Guido -strides up to me as sober as you are, and a good deal happier looking, -and not with that extraordinary benumbed expression that’s on your dear -old face.” Here the girl kisses it. - -“Tell me how you met him.” - -Thus encouraged Doña Hermoine who, sweetheart like, loves to prattle of -her adored, sits down and makes confession to her father; during which -he asks her one or two questions she thinks are foolish, but he thinks -pertinent. “You say you first met him on the day of the spring flood of -1572?” - -“Yes, papa; that was the night I told you of, when he protected me from -the Gueux.” - -“A—ah—ah This gentleman you love has dark hair and eyes?” - -“No, bright blue eyes, and his hair is for a Spaniard very blonde—Did I -not tell you so, Goosey!” - -“Oh, yes; I meant bright eyes, I had forgotten. Light chestnut hair, -you say, and a free and easy manner. He walks like a sailor.” - -“Like a cavalryman!” - -“Ah, yes; they both have rolling gaits. The day you met him was the one -I came so hurriedly in from Brussels?” - -“Yes, you came very hastily. It was the day Floris the Painter had that -drinking bout, and drank one of his opponents even unto death.” - -“Yes, I recollect,” says His Highness slowly. “The day Guerra would -have made revelation to me, but died. This gentleman you say you love,” -my lord of Alva’s manner has a kind of forced lightness in it, “speaks -the patois of Hispaniola?” - -“Yes, it is poor Spanish, but sounds very sweet to me.” - -“Humph! when this gentleman arrives, bring him to me.” And going from -the apartment Alva gives some pertinent directions to the lieutenant in -command of his escort. - -Then he returns to the dining-room, and, as it is nearly eight o -clock—has supper served to him. - -To minister to his wants comes running in his daughter, her face as -radiant as a sunbeam. She who had been before to him as the lily is now -blushing as a rose. - -As he sits down there is a very curious expression in my lord of Alva’s -face, and as he drinks there is a lump in his throat that nearly chokes -him, though he is abstemious this evening, his daughter notes, as she -serves papa with loving hands. - -“You—you do not grieve at losing me?” she whispers, a ripple of concern -running over her face. - -“No, it—it isn’t that.” His face has an expression Hermoine cannot -understand. - -“By the by,” she says, “adored papa, another promise.” - -“What?” - -“Take off that reward for the Englishman’s head. You remember I told -you he saved my Guido’s life.” - -“After to-morrow; then it may not be needed,” mutters His Highness, -though his eyes do not meet the girl’s; he keeps them on his wine cup. - -“Thanks, dear papa,” answers the young lady. Then suddenly she says: -“But I must go.” - -“Why?” - -“To make toilet for my coming husband.” - -“Humph!” - -“I shall be dressed as a bride.” - -“You love this man so very much, my Hermoine?” There is a sob in the -father’s voice. - -“With my whole heart,” she answers; then suddenly cries: “Perhaps I -shall have another surprise for you to-night, if you’ll grant it, but -then papa you grant me everything!—you dear old papa who will make your -daughter’s happiness so very great this night.” - -With this she puts tender kiss upon his brow and runs away, leaving her -father wondering to himself whether he has guessed right or not. - -But all the same there are tears in his eyes that never shed them; and -once or twice when he hears his daughter’s voice from neighboring -apartment giving orders as to her toilet and other preparations for the -reception of the man she loves, his face has a horrified expression on -it. Then a minute after a gleam comes into the serpent’s eyes, and his -long hands clench themselves together as if seizing some enemy long -sought for and difficult to grasp, but very pleasant to his grip and -talons, and he mutters to himself: “If it is he who stole my gold for -that Jezebel Elizabeth; if it is he by whose advice the Gueux were -ordered out of England with no food, no water, but only cannon balls -and powder to stir up rebellion in this land, I’d sooner have him than -even William the Silent!” - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -“OHO! THE FOX AT LAST!” - - -All this day during which his sweetheart has been obtaining papa’s -consent, Chester has worked like a beaver laying in winter store. The -seamen under Bodé Volcker’s direction have got out all the silver, some -of which is in ingots, the rest in Spanish dollars, into the cellar, -and by the very earliest sunrise at the opening of the city gates, the -first load comes into the hold of the Esperanza, for this is more -bulky, though not nearly as valuable, as the gold. - -Working at this with that diligence that men always give to looting -treasure, they succeed in getting all of it into the hold of the -Esperanza by twelve o’clock in the day. - -Martin Corker, who has been at the house of Mother Sebastian assisting -in the shipment since Chester has taken charge of the Esperanza, coming -down with the last load, says to his captain: “Bodé Volcker wants to -see you at the house of old Dumb Devil like a flash.” - -“Why?” - -“He didn’t bring out the chest of jewels. He feared some of the men -might buccaneer it on the sly, it’s so easily handled, and is probably -very valuable.” - -With a muttered imprecation on the merchant’s commercial care, for -Chester is now anxious to set sail, he strides rapidly up to the house -of Mother Sebastian, and there finds Niklaas in company with four -seamen, the last who have remained in charge. - -“Did I not tell you that I didn’t wish to make entry into the treasure -chamber during the day?” - -“Yes, but I didn’t want to take the chance of losing the jewels,” -returns the merchant. - -“Well, since there’s no help for it,” Guy mutters, “I suppose I must go -in again.” This he does to find everything as before. Returning from -his journey under the moat to the vault below the great Bastion of the -Duke, bearing in his hand the chest that is presumed to contain jewels, -he laughs: “Everything is all right, this is the last of Alva’s -nest-egg.” - -“You have locked all the iron doors?” - -“Yes.” - -Then they put the flagstones in place, closing up the entrance to the -vault, and bed down the stones of the cellar on top of it; next -sweeping the dust over it again and the seamen pocketing for luck money -a few stray coins that had fallen out of one of the sacks, the cellar -of Señora Sebastian is as they found it. Then Bodé Volcker leaving -another bottle of rum by the side of the snoring dumb woman, they shake -off the dust of the house with a sigh of relief from their feet. - -“You have the clearance papers?” whispers Guy. - -“Yes, I’ll get them at my office.” - -“Very well, then we’ll hoist sail,” says the Englishman; and taking the -case containing the jewels in his own hands, though he has covered it -with a cloak, Guy goes on board the Esperanza. - -Then his crew make ready to draw out from their moorings and go down -the Schelde, while Guy waits impatiently for his clearance papers, for -every instant seems an hour of agonized suspense to him. - -As he stands gazing eagerly up into the streets of Antwerp, Bodé -Volcker makes his appearance, pale, agitated, hurrying as fast as his -fat legs can carry his fat body. He comes up the gang plank gasping and -holding out to Guy the papers, says: “Captain Andrea Blanco, your -clearances.” - -“You are going on shore again?” - -“No, as I’m a frightened man! God help me, I daren’t stay here. Take me -to the cabin, something terrible has happened.” - -“What?” gasps Guy, though he gives orders to the men to cast off and -get under way. This they do in a flash and Martin Corker takes the -helm. As they sail down the Schelde Guy goes into the cabin and -whispers to the merchant, who is half fainting: “What’s the matter, -what’s frightened you so?” - -“My God, my God! the hand moved!” - -“What hand?” - -“THE HAND ON ALVA’S STATUE!” - -“Great heavens!—When?” - -“When you went into the vault at twelve o’clock to-day, the right hand -of the statue of Alva moved. They’ll be at the house of the woman -Sebastian by this time. The statue guarded Alva’s treasure. God help us -if they get messenger to Lillo to stop vessels before we get down! The -garrison are talking about it as if it were supernatural. They say it -predicts the fall of Haarlem; but I know it predicts that people have -gone into Alva’s treasure house. That’s what the infernal statue was -put there for,” cries Bodé Volcker. - -But the last of this speech is made to an empty cabin, for Chester is -on deck and is putting all sail upon the Esperanza. Seeing that every -rag draws and the tide being with them, the boat flies down the river -at such a speed that he hardly thinks he will be overtaken, and prays -that the custom house officers and guard boat at the fort do their -business quickly. - -These Spanish officials, hailing them at Lillo, Guy gets them on board -and makes the officer in charge so happy by hospitality and a roll of -doubloons pressed into his ready hand—suggesting haste on account of -the tide and wind, that his ship’s business is very urgent—that they -are soon allowed to pass. With a sigh of relief Chester, still keeping -all sail up, drives down the Schelde, and at five o’clock in the -evening they are alongside the Dover Lass in Krom Vliet, and are -discharging the treasure into the armed vessel. - -At seven the transfer has been completed; for Chester has now one -hundred and twenty-five men working as seamen always work in sight of -prize money. - -This done, Guy speaks to Dalton. “Have you obtained as I directed, a -chaplain of the Catholic Church from Zeeland?” - -“Yes, and it was the devil’s own job,” says that blunt officer. “I got -about the only one the Dutch had left alive on the islands. There was -another, but Michael Krok had cut off his ears, and I didn’t know -whether he could splice a legal knot,” for Guy has been compelled to -make confidant of his first officer in this business. - -“Ask him to step here,” Chester says. - -And the priest being brought to him, the captain remarks: “You have -been kindly treated, holy father?” - -“With every care. Your fare is so bounteous, I would it had not been a -fast day. It is almost continual starvation for me now. The Dutch have -dispersed my flock, both of parishioners and sheep.” - -“You know the reason that I sent for you?” - -“Yes, I was told it was to perform a sacrament of the church, which I -am here to do; and have stayed on that island to do,” he points to -Beveland, “in spite of persecutions, in spite of threats, in spite of -blows and outrage. Ask any Beggar of the Sea whether Father Anastasius -ever faltered before them, and there is only one of them who has ever -treated Catholic priests as if they were men of God. ‘The First of the -English,’ though he wars against Alva, is a true son of Rome. As such I -come to do his bidding.” - -“You know me?” mutters Guy. - -“Yes, that is why I came so readily.” - -“Then you’ll journey with me to perform a sacrament of the Church?” - -“I would do that for any one demanding it.” - -Guy knows this is so; for Father Anastasius is celebrated all over -Zeeland as a priest who loves his Lord better than he loves his life, -and who will do his duty to the humblest as well as to the highest, as -commanded by his Church. - -“Put Father Anastasius in my gig with me,” Chester says shortly to -Dalton. “Arm it and man it!” - -“It is done.” - -“Are the long boat and cutter ready also?” - -“Yes.” - -“How many men all told?” - -“Sixty.” - -“That leaves sixty on the Dover Lass; plenty to handle, enough almost -to fight her. You will remain in charge of the vessel, Corker will -command the boats. They are well armed?” - -“Yes, pistols, arquebuses, pikes and battle axes, everything as trim as -if it were a boarding party, not a troubadour affair,” answers the -lieutenant. - -At eight o’clock dusk has fallen on both land and sea, and calculating -an hour will be sufficient to take them across to the summer house -where his love is waiting for him, Chester puts off in his gig, taking -the Roman Catholic priest with him, and followed by the long boat and -cutter, the men giving way with sturdy muscles as they are anxious now -to leave this spot, the very value of their prize making additional -danger for them. - -Forty minutes after this, just off the dyke, where they turn up to -Sandvliet, they meet a boat from Antwerp filled with Italian musicians, -rebec players and mandolins, flutes and harps, and decorated as for a -fête. - -These in the early forenoon have been engaged for this purpose in -Antwerp by Achille, who still officiates as cabin boy. They are all -quite merry and are singing a gay Tuscan love song. - -“This is my little water party,” whispers Guy to Corker, whom he has -sitting by him giving him his last instructions. “The lady will think -it a pleasure sail upon the river.” - -“Oho! Abduction!” laughs the boatswain. - -“Yes—to make her I love and honor—my wife,” answers Chester. Then he -whispers: “She is Alva’s daughter.” - -To which Corker returns a prolonged whistle and muttered: “Good God!” -and listens with rather awe-struck face as Guy gives him his last -orders: “Take the long boat, guard the dyke between the house and -Sandvliet, preventing troops coming that way if alarm is given. The gig -and cutter will watch the other side of the house.” - -For Chester fears at the last moment some lackey or the Countess de -Pariza may send some word of what is going on to Sandvliet or Lillo, or -something unexpected may mar his plan and he knows if he loses Hermoine -now he loses her forever. - -A minute after he whispers exultingly: “See, the house is en fête and -lighted up; she is ready for me, my bride!” Then speaking a few words -of caution to Corker, the long boat comes alongside and that sturdy -seaman gets into her stern sheets and takes command of her. - -Two minutes after Guy touches the landing stage. - -“Under that casement, musicians, and play there a soft Venetian -serenade,” he whispers to the leader of the Italians, pointing to the -great oriel window blazing with lights. - -“Si, gracioso, Señor,” the leader of these unfortunate devils replies; -for Guy has hired them for his festival with princely hand, feeling -himself financially a Midas. “A pleasant evening, Señor, a pleasant -evening!” And the happy Italian kisses his hand to his liberal patron -and goes with his serenaders to meet what fate has prepared for them. - -To this Guy answers nothing, but springs upon the landing and whispers -to his cockswain: “Have the boat ready to start on the instant,” then -says to the priest: “I pray thee come with me, holy father.” - -So the two go up the stairs on to the dyke and walk along the path by -the little garden toward the mansion, that is scarce a hundred yards -away. - -“It is a summer night,” says Guy, “Father Anastasius, would you mind -taking a seat among these trees until I summon you? It is the sacrament -of marriage I shall ask at your hands, and would have word with the -lady before I bring you to her.” - -“At your pleasure, Captain,” replies the man of God. “I can tell my -beads for you and offer up prayers for your wedded state as well under -the sky as in a palace.” - -Then, unarmed save by the rapier common to cavaliers and the keen -stiletto he always wears in his breast, for he does not wish to -frighten his love by undue display of weapons, Chester raps on the door -of the house. - -This is promptly opened by Alida, who whispers: “She is there, my lord, -waiting for you, and oh, so happy! Take the compliments of one who -loves you both and is your slave.” - -The Moorish girl would kiss his hand, but he is too eager for this, and -steps into the room with the great oriel window, to find it lighted by -perfumed lamps and decorated with flowers, ribbons and hanging vines, -as if for a gorgeous festival. - -Then, from the oriel window where she has been looking for him, sweeps -a dazzling vision of radiant beauty, a glorious beam upon her face, of -love and happiness complete, and he whispers to her: “My bride, thou -art too beautiful for earth!” - -He is right, for the girl is dressed as a bride, in gleaming, -glimmering, glistening white, some exquisite creation of the looms of -Lyons. She has orange flowers in her hair, her beautiful shoulders and -maiden bosom gleam like ivory, and her white arms are pure as alabaster -as they close softly round him, and she whispers: “My Guido, at last! -See what I have for thee. Come with me, now we shall be happy. -Perchance if I entreat him, he will permit us to be one this night.” - -Her fairy fingers point to the chapel, as she laughs: “I have a -surprise for him, too. It is because I have prayed to her that the -Madonna looks so kindly on me this night.” - -At this Guy gives a start and becomes radiant himself, though he -scarcely understands, for, following Hermoine’s hand, he sees the -curtains are raised showing the chapel; wax tapers are burning now in -hundreds on its altar, there are flowers upon it, and everything seems -ready for some religious ceremony. - -“Don’t look at it too long; come with me. He will be astonished when I -tell him the reason.” - -“He! Who?” - -“Quick, I’ll lead you to him.” They are at the curtains of the great -arches between this room and the dining saloon, she cries: “Draw up the -draperies!” - -As they rise, she whispers: “Guido, on your knees before my father, who -has promised that you shall be my husband—on your knees and thank him -as I do!” and prostrates herself before the gaunt figure in black who -always wears the golden fleece, the Viceroy of the King of Spain, My -Lord of Alva! - -Suddenly she is astounded, for instead of dropping on his knees, her -Guido springs from her with a wild cry of horrified amazement, and lays -hands upon his sword. - -At that same instant eight Spanish arquebusiers spring in at the open -windows and catching him with sword half drawn, have bound his hands, -but not without desperate struggle. Before it is done there is a dead -Spaniard lying at his feet. - -At this the girl starting up cries: “Guido! are you mad to kill a -Spanish soldier?” next says haughtily: “Fellows, release that gentleman -immediately!” - -But the men only look at her father. - -“Unhand that gentleman! You don’t know what you’re doing. Unbind him! -He is Colonel Guido Amati, the future son-in-law of your Viceroy!” Then -she says apologetically to Guy: “It is some horrible mistake, my Guido. -Don’t struggle with them, they may kill you.” For Chester is silently -trying to force his way to the window that he may throw himself out of -it into the waters of the Schelde. - -Then Hermoine, turning to her father, cries: “Command your soldiers to -release the man I love. Is this the way you keep promise to me, your -daughter?” - -On this the Duke asks: “Who is this man? Somebody tell me. Do you -recognize him? Who is he?” - -Coming from behind him the bluff Sergeant of Romero salutes and -whispers into the Viceroy’s ear: “It is ‘The First of the English!’” - -With this there is a horrid burst of merriment from Alva, and he -laughs: “Ho, ho! The fox at last. My daughter, you have gained the ten -thousand crowns reward. This is the man I hungered for. Come here and -kiss your father!” - -Over all this to the girl’s astonished senses rises the soft music of -the harps, mandolins and rebecs floating through the windows from the -musicians on the barge playing serenade upon the summer water outside. - -Hearing this music and seeing the Englishman’s design, Alva orders -sharply: “His boat—take care of that! Let none escape!” - -Immediately there is a volley fired from the room right into the boat -floating beneath the window, and fearful cries and screams and shrieks -go up from murdered Italy; as flute players die with note upon their -lips, and wounded musicians drown beneath the window. - -At this moment, with mighty bound, tearing himself free from those who -hold him, Chester, this man she loves, her Guido, is beside her -shuddering: “Why have you done this thing?” - -“Why have I done this thing? Because of love of you!” she answers back. -“Why have you killed that man there?” For she does not yet understand. - -But her father says: “Come hither, Hermoine, I will explain.” - -To this she says: “No, no!” Alva is coming toward her and she cries to -him: “Stand where you are! Don’t dare to touch me till you tell me why -you have forgotten your promise to me!” - -Then he of Alva, with voice that seems to her harsh as the judgment -trumpet of our Lord will seem to those who have no hope in eternity, -answers: “This man is not the man you thought you loved. This is not -Guido Amati. He was killed at the Battle on the Ice, slain by this -English rover, this accursed pirate, this scum of the sea, this -base-born clown, who aped a Spanish noble to win your trust and love.” - -“Base-born clown!” breaks out the Englishman. “That’s a lie, when -coupled with the name of Chester. My lord of Alva, you speak to belted -English knight. My accolade was given by the Queen’s own hand. I have -in me the blood of the Stanhopes, who fought with William the -Conqueror; my cousin is a Stanley and wears Earl’s coronet. Nobility I -have enough for you and yours. Do you think I would have sullied her I -love by luring her to wed ignoble blood? Look—on my breast I bear the -golden spurs of knighthood!” - -At this the girl, who has cowered under the words that brand the man -she loves as one of the ignoble, seizing from Chester’s breast the -trinkets that show he is of her rank and class, holds them up before my -lord of Alva, and cries out in almost happy voice: “He’s noble! Father, -do you hear, HE’S NOBLE! Now you can’t refuse, he’s noble, though he -is—” she pauses here and falters to Guy, for now she somewhat -understands, “Are you the—‘The First of the English?’” - -“Yes!” - -The answer comes haughtily and proudly, and with it there is a sudden -light in her brain, and she gasps: “Ah, now I know—! This—this Oliver -his friend—the day he rescued me, the day they said the English rover -was in Antwerp.” Then she whispers, almost exultation in her voice: -“Twice, my love, that day I saved you; to-day I will save you again!” - -But this dies away into one awful wailing cry, as he of Alva, in a -voice as unyielding as the Rock of Ages, says harshly: “Gomez, bring in -the executioner!” - -“The executioner! Father, you don’t understand. This is the man I -love.” - -“You love him?” jeers the Duke. “You love an enemy of your country? -This man who was a friend of Oliver, the traitor in my household, whose -attack on Mons gave Orange time to rise with all of Holland; this man -who robbed me for his queen of my Italian treasure? Bah! you must hate -him, girl, as I do,” and he turns to give further orders. - -At this mention of stolen wealth there is a jeering laugh from Guy, -despite himself, but Hermoine puts hand upon his lips and whispers -pleadingly: “Don’t anger him, for my sake, my Guido—my Englishman. I -can twist papa about my little finger,” and tries to laugh in his face, -“See me!” - -With this she is about Alva’s neck murmuring: “What nonsense do you -talk? You always do as your Hermoine tells you. Papa dear, shall I pull -your naughty beard?” - -But he says: “Child, you do not understand. I’ll send to France for -gewgaws and new dresses for you. You will soon forget,” then raises up -his voice—“The Executioner!” - -But she will not be put off and apes to laugh: “The executioner?—for -the man you have promised me as husband? What NONSENSE! You mean the -priest. Goosey dear, send for the priest at once!” - -But Alva answers harshly: “To shrive him were he not a heretic,” next -says sternly, “Gomez, why are you waiting? You have my orders—THE -EXECUTIONER!” - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -“IT IS AN AFFAIR OF STATE!” - - -Then pandemonium breaks forth in the girl, and she laughs in awful -jeer: “My father offers me gewgaws for my lover’s life. Perhaps he’ll -toss the gold for my affianced’s head in my lap and think I’ll spend it -in buying sweetmeats and dainties for the mouth,” next sobs to Guy, -who, the entrances of the room being all guarded, has now no chance of -escape save by almost superhuman means: “Oh, Mother of Mercy! why did -you not trust me? Did you suppose I loved only a name?” then screams -out hoarsely: “Father, spare him! You promised! Spare at least his -life. Father, mercy for ME!” - -For there is a bustle outside, the noise of men coming into the house; -but it is only the lieutenant of the guard who enters, a fiddle -dripping with blood in his hand and announces: “We have killed every -man in the boat, musicians and all.” - -At this there is a spasm of hope, the first that has come to Chester. -In his military mind has sprung this idea: “The butchery of the -musicians was warning to my boats that their captain is beset.” - -But this is effaced by the agony of her he loves, for Hermoine is now -pleading with her father as if for her own life, calling him loving -names as if she adored him in her agony, and sobbing, though she has no -tears: “Father, don’t you hear me, don’t you feel me?” As her arms are -round the grim old Viceroy’s neck. “Don’t you know—that I—love this -man!—See it, believe it by the agony of my breaking heart. If you kill -him you kill me. I had mourned for him as dead before; must I be -widowed AGAIN?” - -Thus supplicating, Hermoine de Alva looks lovelier in her despair than -in her joy, for there is now about her a kind of nervous intensity and -ethereal electricity that makes her not wholly of this earth; she is as -Eve pleading for Adam, not to God, but—to Satan. - -But Satan is not merciful, and thinking her father does not really -understand how it is her very life he is cutting short, she cries out: -“You shall believe my love by this!” - -Then this being whom modesty now covers with blushes, in the presence -of grim old arquebusiers and all the lackeys and attendants the noise -has drawn to the doors of the room, walks up to Guy Chester and her -arms go round him and she is kissing him and sobbing over him, and -begging him not to think she would have betrayed him for all the world, -she loves him so. - -Even as she does this Hermoine de Alva seems suddenly to change. For, -as she flutters over him, Guy, having golden opportunity, whispers in -her ear: “Get me time—warn my boats—get me time!” - -At this work she goes with every artifice of mind and body. - -She looks about, then seems to grow faint, and mutters: “Water—water—my -head!” - -At this her father cries: “Good heavens, you are swooning!” - -To him she jeers: “That would make it easy for you. When I came to I -would be bereft. No, I’ll not faint while he lives—water!” - -This Alva would bring her, but starting, she motions him away and -shudders: “Not from your hands; my maid, Alida—quick!” - -On this the Moorish girl, who is looking on, a strange pathetic -interest in her face, comes to her bringing a goblet. - -As Hermoine drinks she whispers: “To the landing, call them -on—boats—the English boats!” - -A quick look of intelligence flies over the subtle Moorish face, and -Alida, bearing the goblet with her, steps out of the apartment. - -This the Duke sees not. After his daughter has shuddered from him he -has turned away and pressed his hand upon his heart, his face working -strangely. - -From this on he does not seem to wish to look upon his child, who now -comes with all her soul to delay, if she cannot change, her father’s -purpose. - -In this she is strangely aided by an enemy; the Countess de Pariza -comes laughing in and giggles, viciously: “You are going to burn him by -the slow fire, he is a heretic.” - -“Heretic in your teeth, hag,” cries Chester, “I am as good a Catholic -as my lord of Alva himself.” And memory of his God coming over him with -coming doom, he begins to tell his beads. - -“A Catholic,” laughs Alva harshly, “as good as I? And raise thy hand -against the King of Spain!” - -“Yes,” answers Guy, “I am a Catholic, but I am also an Englishman.” - -“There’ll soon be one less of them to fight against the flag of Spain,” -sneers the Viceroy. - -To this is joined a low wail of despair from Alva’s daughter. - -The executioner, one of whom my lord always carries with him for sudden -use, comes in, in leather jerkin, and with awful cruel face, and he of -Alva says to him: “How now, fellow, where is thy noose?” - -“I thought, my lord,” answers the man, “from what I heard outside, it -was a burning at the stake and wanted to know where it should be done? -There’s faggots enough in the kitchen for roasting of my man. Shall I -burn him in the great courtyard in front of the house? Shall I burn him -quick or burn him slow? I can find tallow fat enough to lard him!” - -Here my lord of Alva sees something in his daughter’s face, though she -says no word to this, but simply strides up to her father and looks him -in the eye; and he, turning his head away, mutters: “The noose; he is -not a heretic, hang him up from a beam outside.” - -“You are resolved on—on this?” Hermoine’s soft voice is broken now and -harsh. - -“Yes! It is an affair of State.” - -“My tears, my prayers, my breaking heart—” she sighs this out with -gasping sighs, “make no—change—in—your decree?” And there is a sweat of -agony about the girl’s beautiful eyes instead of tears. - -“No. It is an affair of State.” Alva’s lips tremble as he says it. - -“Then I claim for this man I love, since he is not a heretic, the -privilege of receiving the last rites of the church. You shall not damn -his soul though you condemn his body. You are too good a Catholic to -say a Catholic shall die without grace and church rites.” - -To this Don Fernando answers shortly: “There’s no priest within reach.” - -“You bring the executioner, but not the priest!” she jeers. “Give him -and me at least time to tell our beads—for when he dies—my heart breaks -also.” - -But here there is a bustle at the rear among the arquebusiers guarding -the doors, and a man garbed as in the priesthood of the Catholic -Church, says: “Room, a father of the church!” And the soldiers -permitting him to pass, Guy sees with amazement it is the Father -Anastasius he had hoped this night would celebrate his wedding. - -“Now,” cries Hermoine, “my Lord of Alva, you cannot refuse.” - -“He shall not,” says the priest, “not to me, Father Anastasius, who -have lived in Zeeland persecuted all these years for love of the Lord; -he dare not refuse permission to save this man’s soul.” - -“And why not?” answers Alva haughtily. - -“Because I will anathematize you. Great Catholic that you are, you have -no right to violate an ordinance of Rome.” - -“Then have your way. Bind him securely. Then let him make his orisons -to you—in yonder chapel, if you think it would be more holy—and save -this man’s soul. Now, girl, get thee to thy chamber.” - -“Not until I see the last and hear the last word of the man I love. You -have denied all I have prayed you for, you have refused to spare the -life of him I love; and I have not cursed you for it—because I am your -daughter. But I will call down heaven’s anathema upon you if you send -me from his side while life is in him.” - -To this Alva says nothing but sinks down at the table, putting his head -in his hands, muttering to the lieutenant: “On your life, beware he -does not escape you; that is all.” - -Then the entrance of the chapel being guarded, Chester, bound and -helpless, is led in there, and sinks down before the man of God. - -But even as he makes the confession of the dying sinner, there is the -frou of silk about him and the white laces and orange flowers of bridal -robe brush his face that has been bruised by arquebus stocks, and a -beautiful being upon whose face is despair but also love divine, sinks -down beside him and sighs out to the priest: “Not the sacrament for the -dead, but the sacrament of marriage!—with this man I love and who loves -me—and who has taken his life in his hands every time he looked upon my -face. Now I know what you have risked to gain me—my Guido!—now I -know—my Guy, my Englishman!” - -“But my lord of Alva!” mutters the monk, aghast. - -“You, didn’t fear him a minute ago. Be merciful as you are good. Look -at the altar piece; see, the Madonna pleads for me!” - -And gazing round Father Anastasius starts, crosses himself, and gasps: -“A miracle! Our Mother’s face is yours, my child; the very eyes; the -very mouth—miraculous!” - -“You see Holy Mary has taken my face to intercede for me,” whispers the -girl, an inspiration in her brain. “Quick; as short a ceremony as will -make us one.” - -Thus adjured, the priest, thinking it the very command of the Virgin -herself, mutters over Guy Chester and Hermoine de Alva, though hastily, -the sacrament of the Catholic Church that makes this man and woman of -one flesh, one body and one name. - -As he utters response a sudden exultation comes into Chester’s soul; -God will not bring despair upon this noble woman, this tender angel, -who whispers to him: “I am your wife; now let me see if my father dare -kill my husband!—holy man of God, your blessing.” - -And the priest, putting hands over them, there come tears in Father -Anastasius s eyes and he murmurs: “Benedicte! The Virgin will guard the -man you love.” - -Then Chester feels upon him his bride’s kiss with lips that are cold as -death itself; and she rising steps out to her father and says with -hoarse, unnatural voice: “It is done!” - -For this place is like a torture chamber now, and the voices of all are -low and discordant; even Hermoine s own tones have grown harsh and -rasping. - -“He is absolved?” - -“No, he is married.” - -“What?” - -“YES, HE HAS MARRIED ME.” - -“Married you! Misericordia! You will forever look upon your father as -your husband’s butcher. Bring me the accursed priest!” cries he of -Alva, rage mingling with his anguish. - -“What would you of me?” answers Father Anastasius, striding from the -altar. - -“How dared you marry them?” - -“By command of the Virgin! See! Our Mother has taken the face of his -bride to protect him.” - -“Ah—h! the juggling trick,” cries Alva, “the picture painted by the -traitor Oliver that comes in to stop my vengeance. But it shall not; it -is an affair of State!” And he signs to the hangman who is beside him, -the noose in his hands. - -But Hermoine, confronting her father, answers: “No dastard death for my -husband, who is as noble as yourself. At least the mercy of the sword.” - -“Take it! I give him as noble a death as I granted Egmont and Horn. Hew -me off this Englishman’s head on that table.” - -“Before my eyes?” shudders his daughter. - -“You wish it. It is an affair of State.” - -“Father!” screams the girl. For the executioner has drawn his sword; -“Father, as you hope for mercy give it to me. Do you want every one on -this earth to call you an accursed and cruel butcher? There was only -one who did not before to-night. She was your daughter. Would you have -her say, ‘My father killed my husband?’” - -But he answers hoarsely: “Quick, get this thing through.” - -Four or five of the men would now drag Guy to the table, but Father -Anastasius striding to the altar, stands over the bound man and cries: -“This is sanctuary! Anathema upon him who enters sacred place with -drawn sword and naked weapon! The Madonna commands me! Stand back, or -upon you I will launch the curse of Mother Church!” For the hermit -priest has got to thinking he has the Virgin’s command to save the -bridegroom. - -But Alva, brushing through the crowd of faltering soldiers, cries: “Get -you gone, you cursed priest,” and would make in to seize the bound man, -for his men hang back as the priest, raising up his voice, utters: -“Anathema!” and begins the awful sentence of excommunication. - -To this Fernando laughs hoarsely. “Monks fright me not, I who have led -army against the Pope!” and will perchance play executioner himself -upon the husband of the daughter he loves. - -At this moment a dark, light-footed girl flies into the window, crying: -“This way! Quick!” - -Alva calls his men to turn about—but it is too late—they all have been -so concerned in the execution that they have not noticed the rush of -men who are now upon them headed by Corker, with a wild English cheer. - -It’s scarce a moment ere the astonished body guard are either cut to -pieces or driven off to be pursued and butchered in the outer darkness -round the house, leaving their master all alone among his enemies, -though unwounded; for his armor has shed pistol and arquebus balls. His -head is unhelmed and in a minute he would be dead, for Chester now has -sword within his hand, and coming up he cries: “It is my turn now! My -Lord of Alva!” - -Then round the iron Duke, who looks steadfastly on the doom that is -upon him, are thrown a pair of girl’s white arms, and Hermoine de Alva -from off her father’s breast beseeches: “Spare him, if you have mercy -on me! Spare him, husband, if you would have a happy bride in your arms -to-night—for in your arms I should remember that you were the murderer -of my father.” - -“Spare him, young man, I charge you, as I saved you,” cries the priest. - -“Yes, that you did, good Father Anastasius,” cries Hermoine, as Guy -drops his hand; and in another moment the hermit priest gets such a -kiss as never St. Anthony had, else he had succumbed; and the good -father murmurs: “For this feast of the flesh I will fast another week!” - -But they are all laughing now, and joyous, save Don Fernando, as he -mutters: “What ransom?” - -Then to Guy’s eyes come the picture of the blockaded town, the men -gaunt with hunger, the famishing women—the starving children—and he -answers: “The freedom of Haarlem!” and feels he has a nation in this -chance. - -“Never! I have gold to pay for my life, but before one banner recedes -from Haarlem leaguer, or one soldier turns his back upon that town, hew -me down!” is Alva’s determined answer. “Butcher me if you will, but no -one shall say that Don Fernando de Toledo sold for his life his -allegiance to his sovereign.” - -“Let them have a little bread.” Guy is pleading now. - -“Never!” - -“Let the women and children come out to make the fewer mouths to feed!” -is Hermoine’s appealing cry. - -“Never!” - -Then if there were Dutchmen about him, the Duke would die; as it is, -the English seamen cast on him glances of hatred and rage and lay hands -upon their swords. - -But Chester cries: “Down with your weapons! Not from the hands of any -of my men can harm come to the father of the blessing of my life. Come -with me, my Hermoine.” - -And the girl goes to him. - -Seeing this my lord of Alva falters: “You—you are going to take her -away?” - -“Why not? You do not love her!” - -“By my soul I love her. It was an affair of State. At least promise if -you will not live with me, Hermoine—you’ll come back to visit me some -time—after you have forgot.” - -But the girl answers: “No. I could not come without my husband, and I -could never trust your love for me to save his life, had you the power -to slay. It would be—‘an affair of State!’ What was my life, my -happiness, everything I had on earth, as I plead with you scarce five -minutes since, to ‘an affair of State!’ Father, keep your statecraft, -it has cost you the only heart in all this world that—that loved you!” -Here the beautiful being falters in her speech, and going up to this -man who had been so much to her—till now—she murmurs: “You were always -tender and good to me—before!” and places kiss upon his brow. - -On this the Duke begins to plead with her to think of his gray -hairs—she who is the comfort of his declining life—and finally bursts -out at Guy: “This is a selfish love of yours—to take this girl who has -had princess’ state to live with you, a rover of the sea.” - -“But with her I have taken a mighty dower—worthy a King’s daughter; all -THY UNLUCKY TENTH PENNY TAX, my lord of Alva!” answers Chester, who -can’t withhold this parting shot. - -“How so? From whence?” - -“From thy treasure house under the Bastion of the Duke.” - -“Good God! Impossible!” - -“It was the dying Paciotto’s secret!” - -“I—I can’t believe,” falters Fernando, pale, trembling, broken. - -“Believe by this! The statue moved its hand!” jeers Chester. - -“And Roderigo, my watcher, died six days ago! It is fate—fortune has -turned her face from me,” moans he of Alva, and bows his head upon his -breast, as if hope had left him. - -From this picture of despair Guy leads his bride away; but chancing at -the door to turn back for one last glance at her father who is now -alone, Hermoine begins to shudder and sob even in her husband’s arms. - -The man of iron soul is kneeling before the altar piece, from which his -daughter’s eyes look down at him, and sobbing—he who never sobbed -before. - -It is the last Alva has of his child in this world from now on. After -the beautiful being who had been the joy of his declining years turns -her back on him, fortune turns her face from him also. Though he wins -Haarlem, and his executioners, five of them, working day and night, -butcher the burghers of that hapless town and kill the bravest -defenders of its walls, Ripperda, Hasselaer, and its other heroes of -heroes; Don Fernando fails at the siege of Alkmaar. - -He is not the Alva of old; and when some months after he departs for -Spain he goes broken in mind and body, having lost the confidence of -his king, but gained the immortal infamy of being the most cruel man of -a most cruel age—all his unpaid creditors in Holland and Brabant shout -execrations as he leaves their shores; they do not know the true story -of his statue. - -Even Requesens, the succeeding Viceroy, believing his soldiers’ rumors, -tears Alva’s great image down, and goes to digging for his treasure—to -find naught but the wondrous casket that contained it. - -But the Duke takes with him to Spain one thing; that he now values most -of all on earth—the altar piece painted by the genius of Oliver, and it -is set up on high behind the grand altar in the cathedral near -Vittoria, where my lord of Alva worships. Soon peasant tales are told -that he of iron heart cries each day before the Madonna, for the myriad -lives that had been lost to the world through him in the Low Countries. -And now in after years that picture is attributed to the early brush of -Murillo, and goes to make that Master’s glory—tourists being told it is -without price. - -So the dead Oliver lost even renown. His genius went to give another -fame; his body tossed into his own beloved Y; his head thrown into -Haarlem as carrion. He died that Holland might live free, that a new -age might come when men could live their own lives, think their own -thoughts, and cry out to God in their own way. He has only the glory of -the patriot—but is not that enough? - - - -From the sight of her father’s despair and humiliation Guy carries his -bride to the landing-place. Here all his boats await him, the seamen -rapidly bringing down such of Hermoine’s belongings as they can readily -put hands upon, Alida, the Moorish girl, directing them. Finally, her -mistress’s jewel case in her hand, she takes seat by Hermoine in the -stern sheets of the gig. - -Then Chester calls to his men and the seamen bending to their oars, the -gig parts the waters of the Schelde making toward the Dover Lass. - -“Dost remember our last boating on this river together?” whispers Guy, -into the ear of his bride. “The unknown lady, who was to promote me to -a Colonel, eh?” - -“And have I not done more for you, my husband?” returns Lady -Chester—née Hermoine de Alva—in his ear. - -Looking on her beauty, Guy’s glance is answer to this; there is no need -of words. - -Making the Dover Lass, Chester carries in his arms his bride, and -bearing her to the cabin, Hermoine looks round and murmurs, startled: -“Thy ship is fitted up as a State galley or sovereign’s ship of pomp, -my lord,” for Achille has, with French taste, made the cabins like a -lady’s boudoir, with fresh flowers brought from the shore. - -“Yes, it was for a honeymoon cruise I decorated these cabins. It was -for thee.” - -“And you felt so sure of winning me—with against you all the power of -Spain? What indomitable determination, what intense assurance you -English have!” The last is a slight laugh. Then her face grows serious -and she falters: “What awful risks you took to win your bride, my -Guy—my Englishman!” - -But Chester has to tear himself from her and go on deck to forget the -bridegroom in the sailor. The flag of England is run up on the Dover -Lass, her sails are spread, and the vessel speeds down the Schelde -estuary, and passes Flushing, for Guy will not stop there for fear of -pursuing Spanish warships. - -The next evening as they drop anchor they hear the merry church bells -of Harwich steeple. - -“Welcome to England,” cries Guy, and takes his bride on shore. Here it -is given out that Chester has captured a galleon of most wondrous -riches: and he pays thereon ten per cent., as is usual, to the crown of -England, by Drake, Hawkins and other rovers of the sea. - -The rest of the treasure, by the law of the land is his, and he makes -division with Bodé Volcker, paying him his share. With this money in -hand the commercial Fleming hies him to Holland, and some years after -when Amsterdam is taken by Orange, settles there, to become one of its -merchant princes. - -When they are paid and the rewards are given unto them, there are no -happier sailormen carousing in the ports of England than those of the -Dover Lass; and for weeks afterwards when a Jack tar is seen in -Plymouth or Portsmouth sporting two big watches, bought from excited -Jews, the cry is: “That’s one of Chester’s men, no one but a Dover Lass -could flash such elegance!” - -These things coming to the ears of Queen Elizabeth, Her Majesty remarks -to her prime minister: “Burleigh, this Sir Guy Chester is the grandest -thief of us all. He has stole that minx of Alva, and he and the girl -have got together and robbed her father, the poor old Duke. - -“They took Your Majesty as precedent,” murmurs Burleigh. “Dost remember -the eight hundred thousand crowns?” - -“Yea, in God’s truth I do! But this Knight of mine, Chester, is lost to -me as a fighting man if his fortune is a fifth what they say it is, and -his bride’s loveliness is a tenth what rumor gives to her. Bring the -wench to me. I would lay eyes upon this Spanish beauty.” - -“In truth,” answers Cecil, who has seen and wondered at Hermoine’s -loveliness, “Lady Chester is the most beautiful woman on earth—saving -Your Majesty.” - -“Out upon your cozening courtier’s tongue—that ‘saving your majesty’ -was an afterthought,” laughs Elizabeth. “But bring the wench with you, -I believe you’re half in love with her yourself—you old -philanderer—bring me this minx of Alva, quick!” - -So Sir Guy Chester, coming with his bride to court, Hermoine, by the -graces of her mind, which are enchanting, and by her beauty, which is -grand and winning, sends Shene and Westminster wild with admiration. - -Looking on this, Queen Bess remarks sadly: “Good fortune has made this -Chester a carpet knight; he now eats with that Italian abomination -called a fork. Still, he has an eye for treasure; his lady’s diamonds -are finer than my own. Perchance he may make a good Lord of the -Treasury, for he’ll do no more fighting—unless he is a fool.” - -Elizabeth’s guess is true, Chester buying great properties round -London, settles down in almost princely state with his fair bride to -contented happiness; though some ten years afterwards he buckles on his -sword, as every true Englishman did, and fitting out at his own expense -six stout vessels, the smallest of which is the old Dover Lass, which -Dalton commands now, he takes his station in the channel, under my Lord -Howard of Effingham, to battle against the great Armada Philip of Spain -has sent against the liberties of his country. - -That glorious victory is the last sea fight of the “First of the -English.” From that time he lives most of the year amid the mild -climate of the Kentish coast, which pleases best his Spanish bride, who -remembers the soft breezes of her native land. Here, to the end of her -long and happy life, she reigns bride of her husband’s heart and -mistress of his soul. - -Their one sorrow is that no son comes to inherit their great estates, -but they have a daughter, brunette-like as her mother, with Hermoine’s -ivory skin and glorious, Madonna eyes, and she marries into a great -English family, bringing to it a dower of lands that now makes it one -of the grandest and richest of England’s ducal houses. - -Every now and again some daughter of the house has Hermoine’s exquisite -eyes, ivory skin and wondrous hair, and her loveliness is not that of -the North but of the South. Then her brothers and sisters laugh and say -it is the Spanish beauty broken out once more, though they have -forgotten from whence it came. - -It is only a legend with them now in early chronicle, of the hardy -sailor, the indomitable fighter, the non-despairing lover, who stole -Alva’s treasure and with greater fortune won the noble heart of Alva’s -daughter to make her bride to “The First of the English!” - - - FINIS. - - - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIRST OF THE ENGLISH *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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