The Burgomasters Wife | Page 6

my little master,
and then go home. I wish the time, when your father would value my
greeting, might come again. Do you know why it is no longer pleasant

to him?"
"No, my lord."
"Then I'll tell you. Because he is fond of Spain, and I cling to the
Netherlands."
"We are Netherlanders as well as you," replied Nicolas with glowing
cheeks.
"Scarcely," answered Dousa calmly, putting his hand up to his thin chin,
and intending to add a kinder word to the sharp one, when the youth
vehemently exclaimed:
"Take back that 'scarcely,' Herr von Nordwyk." Dousa gazed at the
bold lad in surprise, and again an expression of amusement hovered
about his lips. Then he said kindly:
"I like you, Herr Nicolas; and shall rejoice if you wish to become a true
Hollander. There comes Meister Wilhelm with his cloak. Give me your
hand. No, not this one, the other."
Nicolas hesitated, but Janus grasped the boy's right hand in both of his,
bent his tall figure to the latter's ear, and said in so low a tone that the
musician could not understand:
"Ere we part, take with you this word of counsel from one who means
kindly. Chains, even golden ones, drag us down, but liberty gives
wings. You shine in the glittering splendor, but we strike the Spanish
chains with the sword, and I devote myself to our work. Remember
these words, and if you choose repeat them to your father."
Janus Dousa turned his back on the boy, waved a farewell to the
musician, and went away.
CHAPTER II.
Young Adrian hurried down the Werffsteg, which had given his family

its name. He heeded neither the lindens on both sides, amid whose tops
the first tiny green leaves were forcing their way out of the pointed
buds, nor the birds that flew hither and thither among the hospitable
boughs of the stately trees, building their nests and twittering to each
other, for he had no thought in his mind except to reach home as
quickly as possible.
Beyond the bridge spanning the Achtergracht, he paused irresolutely
before a large building.
The knocker hung on the central door, but he did not venture to lift it
and let it fall on the shining plate beneath, for he could expect no
pleasant reception from his family.
His doublet had fared ill during his struggle with his stronger enemy.
The torn neck-ruffles had been removed from their proper place and
thrust into his pocket, and the new violet stocking on his right leg,
luckless thing, had been so frayed by rubbing on the pavement, that a
large yawning rent showed far more of Adrian's white knee than was
agreeable to him.
The peacock feather in his little velvet cap could easily be replaced, but
the doublet was torn, not ripped, and the stocking scarcely capable of
being mended. The boy was sincerely sorry, for his father had bade him
take good care of the stuff to save money; during these times there were
hard shifts in the big house, which with its three doors, triple gables
adorned with beautifully-arched volutes, and six windows in the upper
and lower stories, fronted the Werffsteg in a very proud, stately guise.
The burgomaster's office did not bring in a large income, and Adrian's
grandfather's trade of preparing chamois leather, as well as the business
in skins, was falling off; his father had other matters in his head,
matters that claimed not only his intellect, strength and time, but also
every superfluous farthing.
Adrian had nothing pleasant to expect at home--certainly not from his
father, far less from his aunt Barbara. Yet the boy dreaded the anger of
these two far less, than a single disapproving glance from the eyes of

the young wife, whom he had called "mother" scarcely a twelve month,
and who was only six years his senior.
She never said an unkind word to him, but his defiance and wildness
melted before her beauty, her quiet, aristocratic manner. He scarcely
knew himself whether he loved her or not, but she appeared like the
good fairy of whom the fairy tales spoke, and it often seemed as if she
were far too delicate, dainty and charming for her simple, unpretending
home. To see her smile rendered the boy happy, and when she looked
sad--a thing that often happened-it made his heart ache. Merciful
Heavens! She certainly could not receive him kindly when she saw his
doublet, the ruffles thrust into his pocket, and his unlucky stockings.
And then!
There were the bells ringing again!
The dinner hour had long since passed, and his father waited for no one.
Whoever came too late must go without, unless Aunt Barbara took
compassion on him in the kitchen.
But what was the use