CHAPTER XXXII
A RUN THROUGH THE NIGHT
That same morning of this fourth day of the New Year found GildaBeresteyn sitting silent and thoughtful in the tiny room which had beenplaced at her disposal in the house of Mynheer Ben Isaje, the banker.
A few hours ago she had come back to it, running like some frightenedanimal who had just escaped an awful--but unknown--danger, and hadthrown herself down on the narrow bed in the alcove in an agony of soulfar more difficult to bear than any sorrow which had assailed her duringthe last few days.
A great, a vivid ray of hope had pierced the darkness of her misery, ithad flickered low at first, then had glowed with wonderful intensity,flickered again and finally died down as hope itself fell dying oncemore in the arms of despair.
The disappointment which she had endured then amounted almost tophysical pain; her heart ached and beat intolerably and with thatdisappointment was coupled a sense of hatred and of humiliation,different to any suffering she had ever had to bear before.
A man could have helped her and had refused: he could have helped her toavert a crime more hideous than any that had ever blackened the pages ofthis country's history. With that one man's help she could have stoppedthat crime from being committed and he had refused ... nay more! he hadfirst dragged her secret from her, word by word, luring her intothoughts of security with the hope that he dangled before her.
He knew everything now: she had practically admitted everything save theidentity of those whose crime she wished to avert. But even thatidentity would be easy for the man to guess. Stoutenburg, of course, hadpaid him to lay hands on her ... but her brother Nicolaes wasStoutenburg's friend and ally, and his life and that of his friends werenow in the hands of that rogue, who might betray them with the knowledgewhich he had filched from her.
No wonder that hour after hour she lay prostrate on the bed, while thesedark thoughts hammered away in her brain. The Prince of Orange walkingunknowingly straight to his death, or Nicolaes--her brother--and hisfriends betrayed to the vengeance of that Prince. Ghosts of those whohad already died--victims to that same merciless vengeance--flitted inthe darkness before her feverish fancy: John of Barneveld, the Lord ofGroeneveld, the sorrowing widows and fatherless children ... and intheir trail the ghost of the great Stadtholder, William the Silentmurdered--as his son would be--at Delft, close to Ryswyk and the molens,where even now Nicolaes her brother was learning the final lesson ofinfamy.
When in the late morning Maria came into the room to bring her mistresssome warm milk and bread, and to minister to her comforts, she found herdearly loved jongejuffrouw wide-eyed and feverish.
But not a word could she get out of Gilda while she dressed her hair,except an assurance that their troubles--as far as Maria could gaugethem--would soon be over now, and that in twenty-four hours mayhap theywould be escorted back to Haarlem.
"When, I trust, that I shall have the joy of seeing three impudentknaves swing on gibbets in the market place," quoth Maria decisively,"and one of them--the most impudent of the lot--drawn and quartered, orburnt at the stake!" she added with savage insistence.
When Gilda was ready dressed, she asked for leave to speak with MynheerBen Isaje. The Jew, obsequious and affable, received her with utmostdeference, and in a few words put the situation before her. MevrouwIsaje, he said, was from home: he had not been apprised of thejongejuffrouw's coming, or his wife would have been ready to receive herat his private house, which was situated but half a league out ofRotterdam. But Mevrouw Isaje would return from the visit which she hadbeen paying to her father in the course of the afternoon, until thathour Mynheer Ben Isaje begged that the jongejuffrouw would look uponthis miserable hovel as her property and would give what orders shedesired for the furtherance of her comfort. In the afternoon, heconcluded, an escort would once more be ready to convey thejongejuffrouw to that same private house of his, where there was a nicegarden and a fine view over the Schie instead of the confined outlook onsqualid houses opposite, which was quite unworthy of the jongejuffrouw'sglance.
Gilda did not attempt to stay the flow of Ben Isaje's eloquence: shethanked him graciously for everything that he had already done for hercomfort.
Maria--more loquacious, and bubbling over with indignation--asked him
when this outrageous confinement of her person and that of her exaltedmistress at the hands of brigands would cease, and if Mynheer Ben Isajewas aware that such confinement against the jongejuffrouw's will wouldinevitably entail the punishment of hanging.
But thereupon Mynheer Ben Isaje merely rubbed his thin hands togetherand became as evasive first and then as mute as only those of his racecan contrive to be.
Then Gilda--making an effort to speak unconcernedly--asked him what hadbecome of the men who had brought her hither from Haarlem.
"They spent half the night eating and drinking at the tavern,mejuffrouw," said the Jew blandly.
"Ah!" rejoined Gilda quietly, "methought one of them had foundhospitality under your roof."
"So he had, mejuffrouw. But this morning when I called him--for I hadsome business to transact with him--I found his room already empty. Nodoubt he had gone to join his companions at the tavern. But the rascal'smovements need not disturb the jongejuffrouw for one moment. Afterto-day she need never set eyes on him again."
"Save when he is hanging on a gibbet in the Groote Markt," broke inMaria viciously. "I for one never go to see such sights, but when thatrascal hangs it shall be a holiday for me to go and get a last look athim."
* * * * *
Later on in the day, Ben Isaje, more affable and obsequious than he hadever been, came to announce to the jongejuffrouw that her sledge wasawaiting her at the top of the street.
Silently and resignedly as had been her wont these past two days GildaBeresteyn, wrapping her cloak and hood closely round her, followedMynheer Ben Isaje out of the house. Maria walked immediately behind her,muttering imprecations against brigands, and threatening direpunishments against every Jew.
Though it was only three o'clock in the afternoon, it was already quitedark in this narrow street, where tall gables almost touched one anotherat the top: only from the tiny latticed windows feeble patches of yellowlight glimmered weirdly through the fog.
The sledge was waiting at the top of the street, as Mynheer Ben Isajehad said. Gilda shuddered as soon as she caught sight of it again; itrepresented so much that was vivid and tangible of her present anxietyand sorrow. It stood upon an open market-place, with the driver sittingup at his post and three horses harnessed thereto. The small tavern wasat the corner on the left, and as Gilda walked rapidly up to the sledge,she saw two of the men who had been escorting her hitherto, the thin manwith the abnormally long legs, and the fat one with the red nose andround eyes: but of the third tall, splendid figure she did not catch oneglimpse.
The two men nudged one another as she passed, and whispered excitedly toone another, but she could not hear what they said, and the next momentshe found herself being handed into the vehicle by Ben Isaje, whothereupon took humble leave of her.
"You are not coming with us, mynheer?" she asked in astonishment.
"Not ... not just yet, mejuffrouw," murmured the Jew somewhatincoherently, "it is too early yet in the afternoon ... er ... for meto ... to leave my business.... I have the honour to bid thejongejuffrouw 'Godspeed.'"
"But," said Gilda, who suddenly misliked Ben Isaje's manner, yet couldnot have told you why, "the mevrouw--your wife--she is ready to receiveme?"
"Of a truth--certainly," replied the man. Gilda would have given much toquestion him further. She was quite sure that there was somethingstrange in his manner, something that she mistrusted; but just as shewas about to speak again, there was a sudden command of "Forward!" thedriver cracked his whip, the harness jingled, the sledge gave a biglurch forward and the next moment Gilda found herself once more beingrushed at great speed through the cold night air.
She could not see much r
ound her, for the fog out in the open seemedeven more dense than it was inside the city and the darkness of thenight crept swiftly through the fog. All that she knew for certain wasthat the city was very soon left behind, that the driver was urging hishorses on to unusual speed, and that she must be travelling along ariver bank, because when the harness rattled and jingled less loudlythan usual, she could hear distinctly the clink of metal skates upon theice, as wayfarers no doubt were passing to and fro.
Solitary as she was--for Maria and her eternal grumblings were poorcompany--she fell to thinking again over the future, as she had done notonly last night but through the past few interminable days; it almostseemed as if she had never, never thought of anything else, as if thosesame few days stretched out far away behind her into dim and nebulousinfinity.
During those days she had alternately hoped and feared and beendisappointed only to hope again: but the disappointment of last nightwas undoubtedly the most bitter that she had yet experienced. So bitterhad it been that for a time--after its intense poignancy had gone--herfaculties and power of thinking had become numbed, and now--verygradually, unknown at first even to herself, hope shook itself free fromthe grip of disappointment and peeped up at her out of the abyss of herdespair.
Did that unscrupulous knave really have the last word in the matter? hadhis caprice the power to order the destiny of this land and the welfareof its faith?
Bah! the very thought was monstrous and impossible. Was the life of thePrince of Orange to be sacrificed because a rascal would not help her togive him that word of warning which might save him even now at theeleventh hour?
No! Gilda Beresteyn refused to believe that God--who had helped thearmies of the Netherlands throughout their struggle against the might ofSpain--would allow a rogue to have so much power. After all, she wasnot going to be shut up in prison! she was going to the house ofordinary, respectable burghers; true, they were of alien and of despisedfaith, but they were well-to-do, had a family, serving women and men.
Surely among these there would be one who--amenable to cajoleries or topromises--would prove to be the instrument sent by God to save theStadtholder from an assassin's dagger!
Gilda Beresteyn, wrapped in this new train of thought, lost count oftime, of distance and of cold: she lived during one whole hour in thehappiness of this newly-risen hope, making plans, conjecturing,rehearsing over in her mind what she would say, how she would probe theloyalty, the kindness of those who would be around her to-night.
Delft was so near! and after all even Maria might be bribed to forgether fears and her grievances and to become that priceless instrument ofsalvation of which Gilda dreamed as the sledge flew swiftly alongthrough the night.
It was Maria who roused her suddenly out of these happy fancies. Mariawho said plaintively:
"Shall we never get to that verdommte house. The Jew said that it wasonly situate half a league from Rotterdam."
"We must be close to it," murmured Gilda.
"Close to it!" retorted Maria, "we seem to be burning the ground underthe horses' hoofs--we have left Rotterdam behind us this hourpast.... It is the longest half league that I have ever known."
"Peep out under the hood, Maria. Cannot you see where we are?"
Maria peeped out as she was bid.
"I can see the lights of a city far away on our right," she said. "Fromthe direction in which we have been going and the ground which we havecovered I should guess that city to be Delft."
"Delft!" exclaimed Gilda, smothering a louder scream.
The driver had just pulled up his horses, allowing them to go at a walkso as to restore their wind and ease them for awhile. Gilda tried herbest to peer through the darkness. All that she could see were thoselights far away on the right which proclaimed the distant city.
A chill struck suddenly to her heart. Ben Isaje had lied! Why? She wasnot being taken to his house which was situate half a league outsideRotterdam ... then whither was she being taken? What new misery, whatnew outrage awaited her now?
The lights of the distant city receded further and further away from herview, the driver once more put his horses at a trot, the sledge movedalong more smoothly now: it seemed as if it were going over the surfaceof the river. Delft was being left behind, and the sledge was followingthe course of the Schie ... on toward Ryswyk....
The minutes sped on, another quarter of an hour, another half hour,another hour in this dread suspense. The driver was urging his horsesunmercifully: he gave them but little rest. It was only when for a fewbrief moments he put them at walking pace, that Gilda heard--all aroundher as it seemed--that metallic click of skates which told her that thesledge was surrounded by men who were there to watch over her and seethat she did not escape.