CHAPTER XVIII.
Adrian hurried home with his vial, and in his joy at bringing thesick lady relief, forgot her headache and struck the knocker violentlyagainst the door. Barbara received him with a by no means flatteringgreeting, but he was so full of the happiness of possessing thedearly-bought treasure, that he fearlessly interrupted his aunt'sreproving words, by exclaiming eagerly, in the consciousness of his goodcause:
"You'll see; I have something here for the young lady; where is mother?"
Barbara perceived that the boy was the bearer of some good tidings,which engrossed his whole attention, and the fresh happy face pleasedher so much, that she forgot to scold and said smiling:
"You make me very curious; what is the need of so much hurry?"
"I've bought something; is mother up-stairs?"
"Yes, show me what you have bought."
"A remedy. Infallible, I tell you; a remedy for headache."
"A remedy for headache?" asked the widow in astonishment. "Who told youthat fib?"
"Fib?" repeated the boy, laughing. "I got it below cost."
"Show it to me, boy," said Barbara authoritatively, snatching at thevial, but Adrian stepped back, hid the medicine behind him, and replied:
"No, aunt; I shall take it to mother myself."
"Did one ever hear of such a thing!" cried the widow. "Donkeys danceon ropes, school-boys dabble in doctor's business! Show me the thing atonce! We want no quack wares."
"Quack wares!" replied Adrian eagerly. "It cost all my fair money, andit's good medicine."
During this little discussion Doctor Bontius came down-stairs with theburgomaster's wife. He had heard the boy's last words and asked sternly:
"Where did you get the stuff?"
With these words, he seized the hand of the lad, who did not venture toresist the stern man, took the little vial and printed directions fromhim and, after Adrian had curtly answered: "From Doctor Morpurgo!"continued angrily:
"The brew is good to be thrown away; only we must take care not topoison the fishes with it, and the thing cost half a florin. You'rea rich young man, Meister Adrian! If you have any superfluous capitalagain, you can lend it to me."
These words spoiled the boy's pleasure, but did not convince him, and hedefiantly turned half away from the physician. Barbara understood whatwas passing in his mind, and whispered compassionately to the doctor andher sister-in-law:
"All his fair money to help the young lady."
Maria instantly approached the disappointed child, drew his curly headtowards her and silently kissed his forehead, while the doctor read theprinted label, then without moving a muscle, said as gravely as ever:
"Morpurgo isn't the worst of quacks, the remedy he prescribes here maydo the young lady good after all." Adrian had been nearer crying thanlaughing. Now he uttered a sigh of relief, but still clasped Maria'shand firmly, as he again turned his face towards the doctor, listeningintently while the latter continued:
"Two parts buckbeans, one part pepper-wort, and half a part valerian.The latter specially for women. Let it steep in boiling water and drinka cupful cold every morning and evening! Not bad--really not bad. Youhave found a good remedy, my worthy colleague.
"I had something else to say to you, Adrian. My boys are going to theEnglish riders this evening, and would be glad to have you accompanythem. You can begin with the decoction to-day."
The physician bowed to the ladies and went on; Barbara followed him intothe street, asking:
"Are you in earnest about the prescription?"
"Of course, of course," replied the doctor, "my grandmother used thisremedy for headache, and she was a sensible woman. Evening and morning,and the proper amount of sleep."
Henrica occupied a pretty, tastefully-furnished room. The windowslooked out upon the quiet court-yard, planted with trees, adjoining thechamois-leather work shops. She was allowed to sit up part of the dayin a cushioned arm-chair, supported by pillows. Her healthy constitutionwas rapidly rallying. True, she was still weak, and the headache spoiledwhole days and nights. Maria's gentle and thoughtful nature exerted abeneficial influence upon her, and she cheerfully welcomed Barbara, withher fresh face and simple, careful, helpful ways.
When Maria told her about the purchase Adrian had made for her, she wasmoved to tears; but to the boy she concealed her grateful emotion underjesting words, and greeted him with the exclamation:
"Come nearer, my preserver, and give me your hand."
Afterwards, she always called him "my preserver" or, as she liked tomingle Italian words with her Dutch, "Salvatore" or "Signor Salvatore."She was particularly fond of giving the people, with whom sheassociated, names of her own, and so called Barbara, whose Christianname she thought frightful, "Babetta," and little slender, prettyBessie, whose company she specially enjoyed, "the elf." Theburgomaster's wife only remained "Frau Maria," and when the latter oncejestingly asked the cause of such neglect, Henrica replied that shesuited her name and her name her; had she been called Martha, she wouldprobably have named her "Maria."
The invalid had passed a pleasant, painless day, and when towardsevening Adrian went to see the English riders and the fragrance of theblooming lindens and the moonlight found their way through the openwindows of her room, she begged Barbara not to bring a light, andinvited Maria to sit down and talk with her.
From Adrian and Bessie the conversation turned upon their own childhood.Henrica had grown up among her father's boon companions, amid theclinking of glasses and hunting-shouts, Maria in a grave burgherhousehold, and what they told each other seemed like tidings from astrange world.
"It was easy for you to become the tall, white lily you are now," saidHenrica, "but I must thank the saints, that I came off as well as Idid, for we really grew up like weeds, and if I hadn't had a taste forsinging and the family priest hadn't been such an admirable musician, Imight stand before you in a still worse guise. When will the doctor letme hear you sing?"
"Next week; but you musn't expect too much. You have too high an opinionof me. Remember the proverb about still waters. Here in the depths itoften looks far less peaceful, than you probably suppose."
"But you have learned to keep the surface calm when it storms; Ihaven't. A strange stillness has stolen over me here. Whether I owe itto illness or to the atmosphere that pervades this house, I can't tell,but how long will it last? My soul used to be like the sea, when thehissing waves plunge into black gulfs, the seagulls scream, and thefishermen's wives pray on the shore. Now the sea is calm. Don't be toomuch frightened, if it begins to rage again."
At these words Maria clasped the excited girl's hands, sayingbeseechingly:
"Be quiet, be quiet, Henrica. You must think only of your recovery now.And shall I confess something? I believe everything hard can be moreeasily borne, if we can cast it impatiently forth like the sea of whichyou speak; with me one thing is piled on another and remains lyingthere, as if buried under the sand."
"Until the hurricane comes, that sweeps it away. I don't want to be anevil prophet, but you surely remember these words. What a wild, carelessthing I was! Then a day came, that made a complete revolution in mywhole nature."
"Did a false love wound you?" asked Maria modestly.
"No, except the false love of another," replied Henrica bitterly. "WhenI was a child this fluttering heart often throbbed more quickly, Idon't know how often. First I felt something more than reverence forthe one-eyed chaplain, our music-teacher, and every morning placed freshflowers on his window, which he never noticed. Then--I was probablyfifteen--I returned the ardent glances of Count Brederode's pretty page.Once he tried to be tender, and received a blow from my riding-whip.Next came a handsome young nobleman, who wanted to marry me when I wasbarely sixteen, but he was even more heavily in debt than my father, sohe was sent home. I shed no tears for him, and when, two months after,at a tournament in Brussels, I saw Don Frederic, the son of the greatDuke of Alva, fancied myself as much in love with him as ever any ladyworshipped h
er Amadis, though the affair never went beyond looks. Thenthe storm, of which I have already spoken, burst, and that put an end tolove-making. I will tell you more about this at some future time; I neednot conceal it, for it has been no secret. Have you ever heard of mysister? No? She was older than I, a creature-God never createdanything more perfect. And her singing! She came to my dead aunt's, andthere--But I won't excite myself uselessly--in short, the man whom sheloved with all the strength of her heart thrust her into misery, andmy father cursed and would not stretch out a finger to aid her. I neverknew my mother, but through Anna I never missed her. My sister's fateopened my eyes to men. During the last few years many have wanted me,but I lacked confidence and, still more, love, for I shall never haveanything to do with that."
"Until it finds you," replied Maria. "It was wrong to speak of suchthings with you, it excites you, and that is bad."
"Never mind; it will do me good to relieve my heart. Did you love no onebefore your husband?"
"Love? No, Henrica, I never really loved any one except him."
"And your heart waited for the burgomaster, ere it beat faster?"
"No, it had not always remained quiet before; I grew up among socialpeople, old and young, and of course liked some better than others."
"And surely one best of all."
"I won't deny it. At my sister's wedding, my brother-in-law's friend, ayoung nobleman, came from Germany and remained several weeks with us. Iliked him, and remember him kindly even now."
"Have you never heard from him again?"
"No; who knows what has become of him. My brother-in-law expected greatthings from him, and he possessed many rare gifts, but was reckless,fool-hardy, and a source of constant anxiety to his mother."
"You must tell me more about him."
"What is the use, Henrica?"
"I don't want to talk any more, but I should like to be still, inhalethe fragrance of the lindens, and listen, only listen."
"No, you must go to bed now. I'll help you undress and, when you havebeen alone an hour, come back again."
"One learns obedience in your house, but when my preserver comes home,bring him here. He must tell me about the English riders. Therecomes Frau Babetta with his decoction. You shall see that I take itpunctually."
The boy returned home late, for he had enjoyed all the glories of thefair with the doctor's children. He was permitted to pay only a shortvisit to Henrica, and did not see his father at all, the latter havinggone to a night council at Herr Van Bronkhorst's.
The next morning the fair holidays were to end, school would begin andAdrian had intended to finish his tasks this evening; but the visitto the English riders had interfered, and he could not possibly appearbefore the rector without his exercise. He frankly told Maria so, andshe cleared a place for him at the table where she was sewing, andhelped the young scholar with many a word and rule she had learned withher dead brother.
When it lacked only half an hour of midnight, Barbara entered, saying:
"That's enough now. You can finish the rest early to-morrow morningbefore school."
Without waiting for Maria's reply, she closed the boy's books and pushedthem together.
While thus occupied, the room shook with rude blows on the door of thehouse. Maria threw down her sewing and started from her seat, whileBarbara exclaimed:
"For Heaven's sake, what is it?" Adrian rushed into his father's roomand opened the window.
The ladies had hurried after him, and before they could question thedisturber of the peace, a deep voice called:
"Open, I must come in."
"What is it?" asked Barbara, who recognized a soldier in the moonlight."We can't hear our own voices; stop that knocking."
"Call the burgomaster!" shouted the messenger, who had been constantlyusing the knocker. "Quick, woman; the Spaniards are coming."
Barbara shrieked aloud and beat her hands. Maria turned pale, butwithout losing her composure, replied: "The burgomaster is not at home,but I'll send for him. Quick, Adrian, call your father."
The boy rushed down-stairs, meeting in the entry the man-servantand Trautchen, who had jumped hastily out of bed, throwing on anunder-petticoat, and was now trying, with trembling hands, to unlock thedoor. The man pushed her aside, and as soon as the door creaked on itshinges, Adrian darted out and ran, as if in a race, down the streetto the commissioner's. Arriving before any other messenger, he pressedthrough the open door into the dining-hall and called breathlessly tothe men, who were holding a council over their wine:
"The Spaniards are here!"
The gentlemen hastily rose from their seats. One wanted to rush to thecitadel, another to the town-hall and, in the excitement of the moment,no sensible reflection was made. Peter Van der Werff alone maintainedhis composure and, after Allertssohn's messenger had appeared andreported that the captain and his men were on the way to Leyderdorp, theburgomaster pointed out that the leaders' care should now be devotedto the people who had come to the fair. He and Van Hout undertook toprovide for them, and Adrian was soon standing with his father and thecity clerk among the crowds of people, who had been roused from sleep bythe wailing iron voice from the Tower or Pancratius.