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Updated: May 12, 2025
He trembled and grew white; he turned away, and swiftly was gone back into the hell of the Gevangenhuis. Like a demon he had come out of it to survey the human world beyond, and search for victims there; like a demon he went back into his own place. So at least it seemed to Lysbeth. "Come, come," she muttered and, drawing the girl with her, passed out of the crowd.
Whether Lysbeth told her husband of her dread yet sacred purpose, or did not tell him; whether he ever learned of the perfidy of Adrian, or did not learn it; what were their parting words their parting prayers, all these things matter not; indeed, the last are too holy to be written. Let us bow our heads and pass them by in silence, and let the reader imagine them as he will.
"Adrian is not as other men are, and ought not to be measured by the same rule," said Lysbeth, almost repeating Foy's words. "So I have been told before, wife, though I, who have but one standard of right and wrong, find the saying hard. But so be it.
"That is a strange argument to find in your mouth, cousin, the argument of Caiaphas the Jew." "Nay, Lysbeth, be not wroth with me, for what can I say? The Spanish troops in Leyden are not many, it is true, but more have been sent for from Haarlem and elsewhere after the troubles of yesterday arising out of the capture of Foy and Martin, and in forty-eight hours at the longest they will be here.
"He is a Spaniard," went on Martin, "the noble Count Juan de Montalvo, who many years past forced one Lysbeth van Hout of this city into a false marriage, buying her at the price of the life of her affianced husband, Dirk van Goorl, that he might win her fortune." "We know it," they shouted. "Afterwards he was sent to the galleys for his crimes.
As he spoke Lysbeth entered the room fully dressed, for she had not slept that night, carrying in her hand a little leathern bag. "How is Adrian, mother?" asked Foy, as she stooped down to kiss him. "He sleeps, and the doctor, who is still with him, says that he does well," she answered.
"Foy and Martin might come," she said, "and be vexed if it seemed that we did not expect them." So for the last three months or more she had always set four covers at the table, and Lysbeth did not gainsay her. In her heart she too hoped that Foy might come. That very night Foy came, and with him Red Martin, the great sword Silence still strapped about his middle.
"Then why did you run away from the warm fire, heretic witch?" jeered Black Meg. Now Lysbeth hesitated no longer, but again answered in a monosyllable, "No." "Then what did she do or say, Senora?" "She said she had known my father who used to play with her when she was a child, and begged for alms, that is all.
Next, thinking it his duty to back the sledge wherein Lysbeth rode, although it was driven by a Spaniard, he had lost ten florins on that event, which, being a thrifty young man, did not at all please him. The rest of the fete he had spent hunting for Lysbeth, who mysteriously vanished with the Spaniard, an unentertaining and even an anxious pastime.
Suddenly she seemed to come to herself, for she added, "Go away, Vrouw van Goorl, go quickly or you may catch my sickness." "If so, I am afraid that the mischief is done, for I have kissed you," answered Lysbeth. "But I do not fear such things, though perhaps if I took it, this would save me many a trouble. Still, there are others to think of, and I will go."
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