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Updated: May 9, 2025
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.
"My uncle is right, Meister Peter," said Jan Van der Does, the same tall young noble, who, on the morning of that day, had sent Nicolas Van Wibisma home with a kindly warning. "It's no use, you must seek the Prince and consult with him." "I suppose I must," replied the burgomaster. "I'll go to-morrow morning." "Not to-morrow," replied Van Hout.
In the Grey Sisters' chapel Father Damianus also thanked the Lord, and with him Nicolas Van Wibisma and other Catholics, who loved their native land and liberty. After church Adrian, holding a piece of bread in one hand and his shoes in the other, waded at the head of his school-mates through the higher meadows to Leyderdorp, to see the Spaniards' deserted camp.
"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."
"Yes, if he only had what we in Holland call a heart," replied the other, smiling bitterly; but Wibisma threw his head back vehemently, exclaiming reproachfully: "Sir Burgomaster, you are speaking of the anointed Prince to whom I have sworn fealty."
"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.
The landlord tossed on a bench several garments spread over the backs of two chairs to dry, and hung in their place the dripping cloaks of the baron and his son. While the elder Wibisma was ordering something hot to drink for himself and servants, Nicolas led the black page to the fire.
Didn't the clamor of Minerva's apprentices harmonize with your organ-playing, or did but by all the colors of Iris, that's surely Nico Matanesse, young Wibisma! And how he looks! Brawling in the shadow of the church and you here too, Adrian, and you, Meister Wilhelm?" "I separated them," replied the other quietly, smoothing his rumpled cuffs.
"Yes, if he only had what we in Holland call a heart," replied the other, smiling bitterly; but Wibisma threw his head back vehemently, exclaiming reproachfully: "Sir Burgomaster, you are speaking of the anointed Prince to whom I have sworn fealty."
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