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Updated: May 9, 2025
I keep this house as a tenant of old Herr Van der Does, and dare not have any opinions of my own, for people must live, but, as truly as I hope for salvation, I'm loyal to King Philip." "Until the Leyden burghers come out here again," replied Wibisma bitterly. "Did you keep this inn during the siege?"
"Out of my way!" said the youth in a haughty, resolute tone, trying to push Mulder aside with the back of his hand. "Hands off, Glipper!" cried the school-boys, raising their clenched hands threateningly. "Then let me alone," replied Wibisma, "I want no quarrel, least of all with you." "Why not with us?" asked Adrian Van der Werff, irritated by the supercilious, arrogant tone of the last words.
Young Matanesse Van Wibisma made an indignant gesture, but controlled himself until Jan Mulder stepped in front of him, holding his little cloth cap, into which he had thrust a hen's feather, under his chin like a beggar, and saying humbly: "Give me a little shrove-money for our tom-cat, Sir Grandee; he stole a leg of veal from the butcher yesterday."
He had treated Herr Matanesse Van Wibisma rudely on account of his opinions, but sought to approach her, who laughed at what he prized most highly, because she was a woman, and it was sweet to hear his work praised by beautiful lips.
"Indeed!" replied the German smiling, for he had now recognized the speaker's figure by the dim light. "Put up your sword. If you are young Matanesse Van Wibisma, you have nothing to fear from me." "I am. But what are you doing on our premises at night, sword in hand?" "I'm warming the wall to my own satisfaction, or, if you want to know the truth, mounting guard." "In our house?" "Yes, Junker.
"You will not save them," replied Wibisma in a calmer tone. "You will push those tottering on the verge of the abyss completely over the precipice, and go to destruction with them." "We are pilots. Perhaps we shall bring deliverance, perhaps we shall go to ruin with those for whom we are ready to die." "You say that, and yet a young, blooming wife binds you to life."
A few hours before the nocturnal burial of old Fraulein Van Hoogstraten, Herr Matanesse Van Wibisma and his son Nicolas appeared before the city, but were refused admittance by the men who guarded the gates, although both appealed to their relative's death. Henrica's father did not come, he had gone several days before to attend a tourney at Cologne.
Herr Van Wibisma turned his dripping, smoking steed, frightened by the hail-stones, towards the house, and in a few minutes crossed the threshold of the inn with his son. A current of warm air, redolent of beer and food, met the travellers as they entered the large, low room, dimly lighted by the tiny windows, scarcely more than loop-holes, pierced in two sides.
"Let us be Holland nobles and noble Hollanders." Three hours later, Junker Matanesse Van Wibisma rode into the Hague with Belotti, whom he had loved from childhood.
Wibisma pretended not to hear the provoking words, and, as the fencing-master left the room, walked calmly, with head erect, towards the musician, bowed courteously, and thanked him for the kindness he had shown his son the day before. "You are not in the least indebted to me," replied Wilhelm Corneliussohn. "I helped the young nobleman, because it always has an ill look when numbers attack one."
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