United States or Vatican City ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
At last, towards dusk, she summoned a couple of her grooms to attend and light her, and made her way, ever in that odd somnambulistic state, to the gaol of Middelburg. She announced herself to the head gaoler as the wife of Philip Danvelt, lying under sentence of death, and that she was come to take her last leave of him. It was not a thing to be denied, nor had the gaoler any orders to deny it.
The scarlet youth at the Duke's side swung round in his saddle to obtain a view of her who called so piteously, and he beheld Sapphira Danvelt. She was all in black, and black was the veil that hung from her steeple head-dress, throwing into greater relief her pallid loveliness which the youth's glance was quick to appraise.
But no such discovery was made when, on the morrow, Danvelt's household and his wife stood before the Governor to answer his questions. Their replies most fully bore out the tale Danvelt had told, and appeared in other ways to place it beyond all doubt that he had taken no part, in deed or even in thought, in the rebellion against the Duke of Burgundy. His wife protested it solemnly and piteously.
He dismissed the fellow, and in the same breath bade her enter, watching her the while from under lowered brows. One of her women had followed; but admittance was denied her. Danvelt's wife must enter his room alone. Whilst she waited there, with scared eyes and fluttering bosom, he went to take from an oaken coffer the letter signed "Philip Danvelt."
"An order from the Governor of Zeeland for the gaol delivery of Philip Danvelt!" she announced almost hysterically. The gaoler scanned the paper, then her face. His lips tightened. "Come this way," he said; and led her down a gloomy corridor to the cell where yesterday she had seen her husband. He threw wide the door, and Sapphira sprang in. "Philip!" she cried, and checked as suddenly.
And because such was his dull mood for he was dull, this Rhynsault, as dull as he was brutish he considered his sin too venial to be denied. And the Duke, who could be crafty, perceiving that mood of his, and simulating almost an approval of it, drew the German captain into self-betrayal. "And so this Philip Danvelt may have been innocent?"
She did not understand, and so she could only stare at him with those round, brown eyes of hers dilating, her lovely cheeks blanching with horrid fear. "Why, see," he said at length, with an easy, gruff good-humour, "I place the life of Philip Danvelt in those fair hands to do with as you please. Surely, sweeting, you will not be so unkind as to destroy it."
Now, amongst those arrested and flung into Middelburg gaol as a result of Rhynsault's ruthless perquisitions and inquisitions was a wealthy young burgher named Philip Danvelt. His arrest was occasioned by a letter signed "Philip Danvelt" found in the house of a marked rebel who had been first tortured and then hanged.
He folded the sheet so that the name only was to be read, and came to thrust it under her eyes. "What name is that?" he asked her gruffly. Her answer was very prompt. "It is my husband's, but not the writing it is another hand; some other Philip Danvelt; there will be others in Zeeland."
"My name, perhaps," smiled the amiable Danvelt, "but assuredly not my signature." "Herrgott!" swore the German captain. "Is this a riddle? What is the difference?" Feeling himself secure, that very foolish burgher ventured to be mildly insolent. "It is a riddle that the meanest of your clerks there can read for you," said he.
Word Of The Day