The Burgomasters Wife | Page 5

He quickly perceived the cause of the wild uproar that had interrupted
his practising, and a smile flitted over the handsome face which, framed
by a closely-cut beard, had just looked startled enough, though the
reproving words and pushes with which he separated the enraged lads
were earnest enough, and by no means failed to produce their effect.
The boys knew the musician, Wilhelm Corneliussohn, and offered no
resistance, for they liked him, and his dozen years of seniority gave him
an undisputed authority among them. Not a hand was again raised
against Wibisma, but the boys, all shouting and talking together,
crowded around the organist to accuse Nicolas and defend themselves.
Paul Van Swieten's wound was slight. He stood outside the circle of his
companions, supporting the injured left arm with his right hand. He
frequently blew upon the burning spot in his flesh, over which a bit of
cloth was wrapped, but curiosity concerning the result of this
entertaining brawl was stronger than the wish to have it bandaged and
healed.
As the peace-maker's work was already drawing to a close, the
wounded lad, pointing with his sound hand in the direction of the
school, suddenly called warningly:
"There comes Herr von Nordwyk. Let the Glipper go, or there will be
trouble."
Paul Van Swieten again clasped his wounded arm with his right hand
and ran swiftly around the church. Several other boys followed, but the
new-comer of whom they were afraid, a man scarcely thirty years old,
had legs of considerable length, and knew how to use them bravely.
"Stop, boys!" he shouted in an echoing voice of command. "Stop! What
has Happened here?"

Every one in Leyden respected the learned and brave young nobleman,
so all the lads who had not instantly obeyed Van Swieten's warning
shout, stood still until Herr von Nordwyk reached them.
A strange, eager light sparkled in this man's clever eyes, and a subtle
smile hovered around his moustached lip, as he called to the musician:
"What has happened here, Meister Wilhelm? 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.
"With perfect calmness, but impressively--like your organ-music," said
the commander, laughing.
"Who began the fight? You, young sir? or the others?"
Nicolas, in his excitement, shame, and indignation, could find no
coherent words, but Adrian came forward saying: "We wrestled
together. Don't be too much vexed with us, Herr Janus."
Nicolas cast a friendly glance at his foe.
Herr von Nordwyk, Jan Van der Does, or as a learned man he preferred
to call himself, Janus Dousa, was by no means satisfied with this
information, but exclaimed:
"Patience, patience! You look suspicious enough, Meister Adrian;
come here and tell me, 'atrekeos,' according to the truth, what has been
going on."
The boy obeyed the command and told his story honestly, without
concealing or palliating anything that had occurred.
"Hm," said Dousa, after the lad had finished his report. "A difficult

case. No one is to be acquitted. Your cause would be the better one, had
it not been for the knife, my fine young nobleman, but you, Adrian, and
you, you chubby-cheeked rascals, who--There comes the rector--If he
catches you, you'll certainly see nothing but four walls the rest of this
beautiful day. I should be sorry for that."
The chubby-cheeked rascals, and Adrian also, understood this hint, and
without stopping to take leave scampered around the corner of the
church like a flock of doves pursued by a hawk.
As soon as they had vanished, the commander approached young
Nicolas, saying:
"Vexatious business! What was right to them is just to you. Go to your
home. Are you visiting your aunt?"
"Yes, my lord," replied the young noble. "Is your father in the city
too?" Nicolas was silent.
"He doesn't wish to be seen?"
Nicolas nodded assent, and Dousa continued:
"Leyden stands open to every Netherlander, even to you. To be sure, if
you go about like King Philip's page, and show contempt to your equals,
you must endure the consequences yourself. There lies the dagger, my
young friend, and there is your hat. Pick them up, and remember that
such a weapon is no toy. Many a man has spoiled his whole life, by
thoughtlessly using one a single moment. The superior numbers that
pressed upon you may excuse you. But how will you get to your aunt's
house in that tattered doublet?"
"My cloak is in the church," said the musician, "I'll give it to the young
gentleman."
"Bravo, Meister Wilhelm!" replied Dousa. "Wait here,