Book: Lysbeth

H >> H. Rider Haggard >> Lysbeth




So far, things went well, and, what was more, the opening of the chase
had proved distinctly entertaining. Also, the society of the place,
after his appropriation of her at a public festival and their long
moonlight _tete-a-tete_, which by now must be common gossip's talk,
would be quite prepared for any amount of attention which he might see
fit to pay to Lysbeth. Indeed, why should he not pay attention to an
unaffianced woman whose rank was lower if her means were greater than
his own? Of course, he knew that her name had been coupled with that of
Dirk van Goorl. He was perfectly aware also that these two young people
were attached to each other, for as they walked home together on the
previous night Dirk, possibly for motives of his own, had favoured him
with a semi-intoxicated confidence to that effect. But as they were not
affianced what did that matter? Indeed, had they been affianced, what
would it matter? Still, Dirk van Goorl was an obstacle, and, therefore,
although he seemed to be a good fellow, and he was sorry for him,
Dirk van Goorl must be got out of the way, since he was convinced that
Lysbeth was one of those stubborn-natured creatures who would probably
decline to marry himself until this young Leyden lout had vanished. And
yet he did not wish to be mixed up with duels, if for no other reason
because in a duel the unexpected may always happen, and that would be
a poor end. Certainly also he did not wish to be mixed up with murder;
first, because he intensely disliked the idea of killing anybody, unless
he was driven to it; and secondly, because murder has a nasty way of
coming out. One could never be quite sure in what light the despatching
of a young Netherlander of respectable family and fortune would be
looked at by those in authority.

Also, there was another thing to be considered. If this young man died
it was impossible to know exactly how Lysbeth would take his death. Thus
she might elect to refuse to marry or decide to mourn him for four or
five years, which for all practical purposes would be just as bad. And
yet while Dirk lived how could he possibly persuade her to transfer her
affections to himself? It seemed, therefore, that Dirk ought to decease.
For quite a quarter of an hour Montalvo thought the matter over, and
then, just as he had given it up and determined to leave things
to chance, for a while at least, inspiration came, a splendid, a
heaven-sent inspiration.

Dirk must not die, Dirk must live, but his continued existence must be
the price of the hand of Lysbeth van Hout. If she was half as fond of
the man as he believed, it was probable that she would be delighted to
marry anybody else in order to save his precious neck, for that was just
the kind of sentimental idiotcy of which nine women out of ten really
enjoyed the indulgence. Moreover, this scheme had other merits; it did
every one a good turn. Dirk would be saved from extinction for which he
should be grateful: Lysbeth, besides earning the honour of an alliance,
perhaps only temporary, with himself, would be able to go through life
wrapped in a heavenly glow of virtue arising from the impression that
she had really done something very fine and tragic, while he, Montalvo,
under Providence, the humble purveyor of these blessings, would also
benefit to some small extent.

The difficulty was: How could the situation be created? How could
the interesting Dirk be brought to a pass that would give the lady an
opportunity of exercising her finer feelings on his behalf? If only he
were a heretic now! Well, by the Pope why shouldn't he be a heretic?
If ever a fellow had the heretical cut this fellow had; flat-faced,
sanctimonious-looking, and with a fancy for dark-coloured stockings--he
had observed that all heretics, male and female, wore dark-coloured
stockings, perhaps by way of mortifying the flesh. He could think of
only one thing against it, the young man had drunk too much last night.
But there were certain breeds of heretics who did not mind drinking too
much. Also the best could slip sometimes, for, as he had learned from
the old Castilian priest who taught him Latin, _humanum est_, etc.

This, then, was the summary of his reflections. (1) That to save the
situation, within three months or so he must be united in holy matrimony
with Lysbeth van Hout. (2) That if it proved impossible to remove the
young man, Dirk van Goorl, from his path by overmatching him in the
lady's affections, or by playing on her jealousy (Query: Could a woman
be egged into becoming jealous of that flounder of a fellow and into
marrying some one else out of pique?), stronger measures must be
adopted. (3) That such stronger measures should consist of inducing the
lady to save her lover from death by uniting herself in marriage with
one who for her sake would do violence to his conscience and manipulate
the business. (4) That this plan would be best put into execution by
proving the lover to be a heretic, but if unhappily this could not be
proved because he was not, still he must figure in that capacity for
this occasion only. (5) That meanwhile it would be well to cultivate the
society of Mynheer van Goorl as much as possible, first because he was a
person with whom, under the circumstances, he, Montalvo, would naturally
wish to become intimate, and secondly, because he was quite certain to
be an individual with cash to lend.

Now, these researches after heretics invariably cost money, for they
involved the services of spies. Obviously, therefore, friend Dirk, the
Dutch Flounder, was a man to provide the butter in which he was going to
be fried. Why, if any Hollander had a spark of humour he would see the
joke of it himself--and Montalvo ended his reflections as he had begun
them, with a merry peal of laughter, after which he rose and ate a most
excellent breakfast.



It was about half-past five o'clock that afternoon before the Captain
and Acting-Commandant Montalvo returned from some duty to which he had
been attending, for it may be explained that he was a zealous officer
and a master of detail. As he entered his lodgings the soldier who acted
as his servant, a man selected for silence and discretion, saluted and
stood at attention.

"Is the woman here?" he asked.

"Excellency, she is here, though I had difficulty enough in persuading
her to come, for I found her in bed and out of humour."

"Peace to your difficulties. Where is she?"

"In the small inner room, Excellency."

"Good, then see that no one disturbs us, and--stay, when she goes out
follow her and note her movements till you trace her home."

The man saluted, and Montalvo passed upstairs into the inner room,
carefully shutting both doors behind him. The place was unlighted,
but through the large stone-mullioned window the rays of the full
moon poured brightly, and by them, seated in a straight-backed chair,
Montalvo saw a draped form. There was something forbidding, something
almost unnatural, in the aspect of this sombre form perched thus upon
a chair in expectant silence. It reminded him--for he had a touch of
inconvenient imagination--of an evil bird squatted upon the bough of
a dead tree awaiting the dawn that it might go forth to devour some
appointed prey.

"Is that you, Mother Meg?" he asked in tones from which most of the
jocosity had vanished. "Quite like old times at The Hague--isn't it?"

The moonlit figure turned its head, for he could see the light shine
upon the whites of the eyes.

"Who else, Excellency," said a voice hoarse and thick with rheum, a
voice like the croak of a crow, "though it is little thanks to your
Excellency. Those must be strong who can bathe in Rhine water through a
hole in the ice and take no hurt."

"Don't scold, woman," he answered, "I have no time for it. If you were
ducked yesterday, it served you right for losing your cursed temper.
Could you not see that I had my own game to play, and you were spoiling
it? Must I be flouted before my men, and listen while you warn a lady
with whom I wish to stand well against me?"

"You generally have a game to play, Excellency, but when it ends in my
being first robbed and then nearly drowned beneath the ice--well, that
is a game which Black Meg does not forget."

"Hush, mother, you are not the only person with a memory. What was the
reward? Twelve florins? Well, you shall have them, and five more; that's
good pay for a lick of cold water. Are you satisfied?"

"No, Excellency. I wanted the life, that heretic's life. I wanted to
baste her while she burned, or to tread her down while she was buried.
I have a grudge against the woman because I know, yes, because I know,"
she repeated fiercely, "that if I do not kill her she will try to kill
me. Her husband and her young son were burnt, upon my evidence mostly,
but this is the third time she has escaped me."

"Patience, mother, patience, and I dare say that everything will come
right in the end. You have bagged two of the family--Papa heretic and
Young Hopeful. Really you should not grumble if the third takes a little
hunting, or wonder that in the meanwhile you are not popular with Mama.
Now, listen. You know the young woman whom it was necessary that I
should humour yesterday. She is rich, is she not?"

"Yes, I know her, and I knew her father. He left her house, furniture,
jewellery, and thirty thousand crowns, which are placed out at good
interest. A nice fortune for a gallant who wants money, but it will be
Dirk van Goorl's, not yours."

"Ah! that is just the point. Now what do you know about Dirk van Goorl?"

"A respectable, hard-working burgher, son of well-to-do parents,
brass-workers who live at Alkmaar. Honest, but not very clever; the kind
of man who grows rich, becomes a Burgomaster, founds a hospital for the
poor, and has a fine monument put up to his memory."

"Mother, the cold water has dulled your wits. When I ask you about a man
I want to learn what you know _against_ him."

"Naturally, Excellency, naturally, but against this one I can tell you
nothing. He has no lovers, he does not gamble, he does not drink except
a glass after dinner. He works in his factory all day, goes to bed
early, rises early, and calls on the Jufvrouw van Hout on Sundays; that
is all."

"Where does he attend Mass?"

"At the Groote Kerke once a week, but he does not take the Sacrament or
go to confession."

"That sounds bad, mother, very bad. You don't mean to say that he is a
heretic?"

"Probably he is, Excellency; most of them are about here."

"Dear me, how very shocking. Do you know, I should not like that
excellent young woman, a good Catholic too, like you and me, mother, to
become mixed up with one of these dreadful heretics, who might expose
her to all sorts of dangers. For, mother, who can touch pitch and not be
defiled?"

"You waste time, Excellency," replied his visitor with a snort. "What do
you want?"

"Well, in the interests of this young lady, I want to prove that this
man _is_ a heretic, and it has struck me that--as one accustomed to this
sort of thing--you might be able to find the evidence."

"Indeed, Excellency, and has it struck you what my face would look like
after I had thrust my head into a wasp's nest for your amusement? Do
you know what it means to me if I go peering about among the heretics
of Leyden? Well, I will tell you; it means that I should be killed. They
are a strong lot, and a determined lot, and so long as you leave them
alone they will leave you alone, but if you interfere with them, why
then it is good night. Oh! yes, I know all about the law and the priests
and the edicts and the Emperor. But the Emperor cannot burn a whole
people, and though I hate them, I tell you," she added, standing up
suddenly and speaking in a fierce, convinced voice, "that in the end
the law and the edicts and the priests will get the worst of this fight.
Yes, these Hollanders will beat them all and cut the throats of you
Spaniards, and thrust those of you who are left alive out of their
country, and spit upon your memories and worship God in their own
fashion, and be proud and free, when you are dogs gnawing the bones of
your greatness; dogs kicked back into your kennels to rot there. Those
are not my own words," said Meg in a changed voice as she sat down
again. "They are the words of that devil, Martha the Mare, which she
spoke in my hearing when we had her on the rack, but somehow I think
that they will come true, and that is why I always remember them."

"Indeed, her ladyship the Mare is a more interesting person than I
thought, though if she can talk like that, perhaps, after all, it would
have been as well to drown her. And now, dropping prophecy and leaving
posterity to arrange for itself, let us come to business. How much? For
evidence which would suffice to procure his conviction, mind."

"Five hundred florins, not a stiver less, so, Excellency, you need not
waste your time trying to beat me down. You want good evidence, evidence
on which the Council, or whoever they may appoint, will convict, and
that means the unshaken testimony of two witnesses. Well, I tell you, it
isn't easy to come by; there is great danger to the honest folk who
seek it, for these heretics are desperate people, and if they find a spy
while they are engaged in devil-worship at one of their conventicles,
why--they kill him."

"I know all that, mother. What are you trying to cover up that you are
so talkative? It isn't your usual way of doing business. Well, it is a
bargain--you shall have your money when you produce the evidence.
And now really if we stop here much longer people will begin to make
remarks, for who shall escape aspersion in this censorious world? So
good-night, mother, good-night," and he turned to leave the room.

"No, Excellency," she croaked with a snort of indignation, "no pay, no
play; I don't work on the faith of your Excellency's word alone."

"How much?" he asked again.

"A hundred florins down."

Then for a while they wrangled hideously, their heads held close
together in the patch of moonlight, and so loathsome did their faces
look, so plainly was the wicked purpose of their hearts written upon
them, that in that faint luminous glow they might have been mistaken
for emissaries from the under-world chaffering over the price of a
human soul. At last the bargain was struck for fifty florins, and having
received it into her hand Black Meg departed.

"Sixty-seven in all," she muttered to herself as she regained the
street. "Well, it was no use holding out for any more, for he hasn't got
the cash. The man's as poor as Lazarus, but he wants to live like Dives,
and, what is more, he gambles, as I learned at The Hague. Also, there's
something queer about his past; I have heard as much as that. It must be
looked into, and perhaps the bundle of papers which I helped myself to
out of his desk while I was waiting"--and she touched the bosom of her
dress to make sure that they were safe--"may tell me a thing or two,
though likely enough they are only unpaid bills. Ah! most noble cheat
and captain, before you have done with her you may find that Black Meg
knows how to pay back hot water for cold!"



CHAPTER V

THE DREAM OF DIRK

On the day following Montalvo's interview with Black Meg Dirk received
a message from that gentleman, sent to his lodging by an orderly, which
reminded him that he had promised to dine with him this very night. Now
he had no recollection of any such engagement. Remembering with shame,
however, that there were various incidents of the evening of the supper
whereof his memory was most imperfect, he concluded that this must be
one of them. So much against his own wishes Dirk sent back an answer to
say that he would appear at the time and place appointed.

This was the third thing that had happened to annoy him that day. First
he had met Pieter van de Werff, who informed him that all Leyden was
talking about Lysbeth and the Captain Montalvo, to whom she was said to
have taken a great fancy. Next when he went to call at the house in the
Bree Straat he was told that both Lysbeth and his cousin Clara had gone
out sleighing, which he did not believe, for as a thaw had set in the
snow was no longer in a condition suitable to that amusement. Moreover,
he could almost have sworn that, as he crossed the street, he caught
sight of Cousin Clara's red face peeping at him from between the
curtains of the upstairs sitting-room. Indeed he said as much to Greta,
who, contrary to custom, had opened the door to him.

"I am sorry if Mynheer sees visions," answered that young woman
imperturbably. "I told Mynheer that the ladies had gone out sleighing."

"I know you did, Greta; but why should they go out sleighing in a wet
thaw?"

"I don't know, Mynheer. Ladies do those things that please them. It is
not my place to ask their reasons."

Dirk looked at Greta, and was convinced that she was lying. He put his
hand in his pocket, to find to his disgust that he had forgotten his
purse. Then he thought of giving her a kiss and trying to melt the truth
out of her in this fashion, but remembering that if he did, she might
tell Lysbeth, which would make matters worse than ever, refrained. So
the end of it was that he merely said "Oh! indeed," and went away.

"Great soft-head," reflected Greta, as she watched his retreating
form, "he knew I was telling lies, why didn't he push past me, or--do
anything. Ah! Mynheer Dirk, if you are not careful that Spaniard will
take your wind. Well, he is more amusing, that's certain. I am tired of
these duck-footed Leydeners, who daren't wink at a donkey lest he should
bray, and among such holy folk somebody a little wicked is rather a
change." Then Greta, who, it may be remembered, came from Brussels, and
had French blood in her veins, went upstairs to make a report to her
mistress, telling her all that passed.

"I did not ask you to speak falsehoods as to my being out sleighing and
the rest. I told you to answer that I was not at home, and mind you say
the same to the Captain Montalvo if he calls," said Lysbeth with some
acerbity as she dismissed her.

In truth she was very sore and angry, and yet ashamed of herself because
it was so. But things had gone so horribly wrong, and as for Dirk, he
was the most exasperating person in the world. It was owing to his
bad management and lack of readiness that her name was coupled with
Montalvo's at every table in Leyden. And now what did she hear in a note
from the Captain himself, sent to make excuses for not having called
upon her after the supper party, but that Dirk was going to dine with
him that night? Very well, let him do it; she would know how to pay him
back, and if necessary was ready to act up to any situation which he had
chosen to create.

Thus thought Lysbeth, stamping her foot with vexation, but all the time
her heart was sore. All the time she knew well enough that she loved
Dirk, and, however strange might be his backwardness in speaking out his
mind, that he loved her. And yet she felt as though a river was running
between them. In the beginning it had been a streamlet, but now it was
growing to a torrent. Worse still the Spaniard was upon her bank of the
river.

After he had to some extent conquered his shyness and irritation Dirk
became aware that he was really enjoying his dinner at Montalvo's
quarters. There were three guests besides himself, two Spanish officers
and a young Netherlander of his own class and age, Brant by name. He was
the only son of a noted and very wealthy goldsmith at The Hague, who had
sent him to study certain mysteries of the metal worker's art under
a Leyden jeweller famous for the exquisite beauty of his designs. The
dinner and the service were both of them perfect in style, but better
than either proved the conversation, which was of a character that Dirk
had never heard at the tables of his own class and people. Not that
there was anything even broad about it, as might perhaps have been
expected. No, it was the talk of highly accomplished and travelled men
of the world, who had seen much and been actors in many moving events;
men who were not overtrammelled by prejudices, religious or other, and
who were above all things desirous of making themselves agreeable and
instructive to the stranger within their gates. The Heer Brant also, who
had but just arrived in Leyden, showed himself an able and polished
man, one that had been educated more thoroughly than was usual among his
class, and who, at the table of his father, the opulent Burgomaster of
The Hague, from his youth had associated with all classes and conditions
of men. Indeed it was there that he made the acquaintance of Montalvo,
who recognising him in the street had asked him to dinner.

After the dishes were cleared, one of the Spanish officers rose and
begged to be excused, pleading some military duty. When he had saluted
his commandant and gone, Montalvo suggested that they should play a game
of cards. This was an invitation which Dirk would have liked to decline,
but when it came to the point he did not, for fear of seeming peculiar
in the eyes of these brilliant men of the world.

So they began to play, and as the game was simple very soon he picked
up the points of it, and what is more, found them amusing. At first
the stakes were not high, but they doubled themselves in some automatic
fashion, till Dirk was astonished to find that he was gambling for
considerable sums and winning them. Towards the last his luck changed a
little, but when the game came to an end he found himself the richer by
about three hundred and fifty florins.

"What am I do to with this?" he asked colouring up, as with sighs, which
in one instance were genuine enough, the losers pushed the money across
to him.

"Do with it?" laughed Montalvo, "did anybody ever hear such an innocent!
Why, buy your lady-love, or somebody else's lady-love, a present. No,
I'll tell you a better use than this, you give us to-morrow night at
your lodging the best dinner that Leyden can produce, and a chance of
winning some of this coin back again. Is it agreed?"

"If the other gentlemen wish it," said Dirk, modestly, "though my
apartment is but a poor place for such company."

"Of course we wish it," replied the three as with one voice, and the
hour for meeting having been fixed they parted, the Heer Brant walking
with Dirk to the door of his lodging.

"I was going to call on you to-morrow," he said, "to bring to you a
letter of introduction from my father, though that should scarcely be
needed as, in fact, we are cousins--second cousins only, our mothers
having been first cousins."

"Oh! yes, Brant of The Hague, of whom my mother used to speak, saying
that they were kinsmen to be proud of, although she had met them but
little. Well, welcome, cousin; I trust that we shall be friends."

"I am sure of it," answered Brant, and putting his arm through Dirk's
he pressed it in a peculiar fashion that caused him to start and look
round. "Hush!" muttered Brant, "not here," and they began to talk of
their late companions and the game of cards which they had played,
an amusement as to the propriety of which Dirk intimated that he had
doubts.

Young Brant shrugged his shoulders. "Cousin," he said, "we live in the
world, so it is as well to understand the world. If the risking of a
few pieces at play, which it will not ruin us to lose, helps us to
understand it, well, for my part I am ready to risk them, especially as
it puts us on good terms with those who, as things are, it is wise we
should cultivate. Only, cousin, if I may venture to say it, be careful
not to take more wine than you can carry with discretion. Better lose a
thousand florins than let drop one word that you cannot remember."

"I know, I know," answered Dirk, thinking of Lysbeth's supper, and at
the door of his lodgings they parted.

Like most Netherlanders, when Dirk made up his mind to do anything he
did it thoroughly. Thus, having undertaken to give a dinner party, he
determined to give a good dinner. In ordinary circumstances his first
idea would have been to consult his cousins, Clara and Lysbeth. After
that monstrous story about the sleighing, however, which by inquiry from
the coachman of the house, whom he happened to meet, he ascertained to
be perfectly false, this, for the young man had some pride, he did not
feel inclined to do. So in place of it he talked first to his landlady,
a worthy dame, and by her advice afterwards with the first innkeeper of
Leyden, a man of resource and experience. The innkeeper, well knowing
that this customer would pay for anything which he ordered, threw
himself into the affair heartily, with the result that by five o'clock
relays of cooks and other attendants were to be seen streaming up Dirk's
staircase, carrying every variety of dish that could be supposed to
tempt the appetite of high-class cavaliers.

Dirk's apartment consisted of two rooms situated upon the first floor
of an old house in a street that had ceased to be fashionable. Once,
however, it had been a fine house, and, according to the ideas of the
time, the rooms themselves were fine, especially the sitting chamber,
which was oak-panelled, low, and spacious, with a handsome fireplace
carrying the arms of its builder. Out of it opened his sleeping
room--which had no other doorway--likewise oak-panelled, with tall
cupboards, not unlike the canopy of a tomb in shape and general
appearance.

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