A LILY 
 
 ! 
 
 CAROLINE ATWATER MASON
 
 A LILY OF FRANCE
 
 " 'My lily ! ' he said, ' my purest. ' : ' 
 
 Page 444
 
 A LILY OF 
 FRANCE 
 
 BY 
 CAROLINE ATWATER MASON 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 THE QUIET KING. A WIND FLOWER, 
 A MINISTER OF THE WORLD. ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 Copyright 1901 by the 
 AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY 
 
 Published December, 1902
 
 Go tbe 
 
 Three Companions of my Pilgrimage to the Scenes of this Story 
 
 The Friend, the Sister, and the Child 
 
 A LILY OF FRANCE 
 
 10 DeDtcateD 
 
 1523807
 
 70 see a man who is willing to die for love, who goes to meet 
 death in the way, who makes a boast of pain and with perfect 
 sweetness and sanity celebrates defeat that is to be witness of the 
 palpable infinite 
 
 Charles Ferguson
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. THE CLOISTER i 
 
 II. THE THREE NOVICES 7 
 
 in. THE PETIT-MORIN 16 
 
 IV. THRUST AND PARRY 23 
 
 V. THE Due DE MONTPENSIER VISITS HIS SIS 
 
 TER-IN-LAW " 31 
 
 VI. "CETTE PAUVRE ENFANT" 42 
 
 VII. CROSS AND STAFF 54 
 
 VIII. LITTLE SAINT SILENCE 58 
 
 IX. THE WHITE ABBESS 74 
 
 X. MAITRE TONTORF 86 
 
 XI. THE DAUGHTER OF A KINGLY LINE .... 99 
 
 XII. THE HOUSE IN THE LANGE DELFT 109 
 
 XIII. NASSAU-BREDA 126 
 
 XIV. THE GREAT REBEL 140 
 
 XV. IN THE HOUSE OF STRANGERS 154 
 
 XVI. A SCRAP OF PAPER 170 
 
 XVII. THE NIGHT WORK OF SENOR ANASTRO . . 185 
 
 xvin. IN THE KING'S NAME 199 
 
 XIX. "As A WOODCOCK TO MINE OWN SPRINGE" 204 
 
 XX. BURG-FRIED 210 
 
 xxi. NEWS FROM BRABANT 221 
 
 vii
 
 Vlll 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 xxn. THREE FLEURS-DE-LIS ROYAL 227 
 
 xxill. "THE AFFAIR AT MEAUX" 236 
 
 XXIV. SUNRISE ON THE ROAD 252 
 
 XXV. THE CHAMPION APPEARS 263 
 
 XVI. A DEAD MAN 279 
 
 XXVII. THE ROMANY WOMAN 293 
 
 XXVIII. SEVEN DUTCH BULBS 312 
 
 XXIX. MY LADY'S CLOAK 323 
 
 XXX. SHORT WOOING 341 
 
 xxxi. AWAKE AT LAST 348 
 
 XXXII. WHITER THAN THE WHITEST 358 
 
 XXXIII. DOOM 371 
 
 XXXIV. ROUBICHON ONCE MORE 385 
 
 XXXV. THE LONELIEST MAN IN EUROPE .... 399 
 
 XXXVI. THE PRINCE CONVERSES WITH His CAP 
 
 TAIN'S BRIDE 406 
 
 XXXVII. AT THE KIRMESS 412 
 
 xxxvin. A SPIRIT, YET A WOMAN Too 419 
 
 XXXIX. "JE MAINTIENDRAI " 425 
 
 XL. THE BOURBON LILY BLOOMS IN DUTCH 
 
 SOIL 430 
 
 A BRIEF RECORD OF SEVEN HAPPY 
 
 YEARS 433
 
 A LILY OF FRANCE 
 
 THE CLOISTER 
 
 PRIME had just been sung in the Sainte Cha- 
 pelle of the Benedictine Abbey of Notre- 
 Dame de Jouarre. 
 
 Two by two the black-robed sisters came out 
 through the south transept door and passed slowly 
 out of sight amid the vistas of the ancient cloister. 
 
 Last of all came two children, little girls of ten 
 or eleven years, dressed alike in gowns of coarse 
 white cloth fastened plainly about the throat and 
 falling to the feet, confined at the waist by a girdle. 
 Each wore on her head a white linen coif, from 
 which hung a square of white muslin, forming a 
 short and scanty veil. 
 
 While at a first glance these young girls seemed 
 to be habited precisely alike and resembled each 
 other in general appearance, close observation 
 showed significant differences between them. The 
 taller of the two appeared to be the younger, pos 
 sessing a more childlike contour of face and a no 
 ticeably artless and even infantile sweetness of 
 the large and limpid blue eyes. About her mouth, 
 however, lay a strongly marked expression of sub 
 mission, a curiously pathetic patience. The face 
 lacked altogether the bloom of free and hardy 
 childhood, having added to its natural delicacy of 
 tint the peculiar pallor of the cloister, a characteristic 
 much less marked in the face of her companion. 
 
 i
 
 Despite the traces of a life of constant discipline, 
 the manner and bearing of this taller child were dis 
 tinguished by a certain unconscious but enchanting 
 imperiousness, a proud little pose of the head upon 
 the delicate neck, a graceful firmness of carriage, 
 while in her friend was to be seen the ordinary 
 gaucherie common to her years. The single differ 
 ence in the habit of the child novitiates was in the 
 girdle which the smaller of them wore simply 
 knotted, while in the case of the other it was fas 
 tened by a clasp showing the Bourbon lily richly 
 wrought in gold. 
 
 The early morning sun shone down into the 
 recesses of the gray old cloister and the sky above 
 was unclouded and blue as midsummer, although 
 the month was October. The children lingered 
 and looked behind them at the closed door, through 
 which they had just come. 
 
 " Do you think we shall see her again to-day ? " 
 asked the younger wistfully. 
 
 "Yes, madame said she would come presently 
 .and bring her that we may speak with her." 
 
 " Oh, joy ! " cried the other, clasping her hands 
 with childish delight. " I love her already, Jean 
 nette. Do not you ? " 
 
 Her friend, who had a pleasant little face with 
 frank gray eyes and a nose decidedly retrousse, 
 looked up with shrewd inquiry. 
 
 " If you love her better than you love me, Char 
 lotte, I shall hate her, you know," she answered 
 quite simply. 
 
 " yoilfr, Jeannette ! You are always so sim 
 ple. As if I could change my friends as I do my 
 dresses ! " 
 
 "Yes, but you do not change them so very 
 often," said Jeannette reflectively. 
 
 At this moment the door of the chapelle was 
 pushed open and a woman of slender figure robed 
 in clinging black appeared. Her outer robe, edged
 
 with fur, flowed over a tunic of finest white wool, 
 and the furred sleeves fell to the ground. Upon 
 her breast the large jeweled cross, and upon her 
 right forefinger the abbatial ring, gave token of the 
 rank of superieure. The patrician delicacy of face 
 and figure suggested, however, rather the aristocrat 
 than the ascetic, although both bore in some degree 
 the stamp of cloistral austerity. 
 
 The lady was leading by the hand a third little 
 girl, apparently a year or two older than the two 
 novices, richly dressed in bright blue velvet with 
 hanging sleeves lined with parti-colored satin, and a 
 chemisette and ruff of finest needlework. 
 
 The head of the young stranger was bare, and 
 her dark hair, parted over the forehead, fell in soft, 
 full waves upon her shoulders. Under the straight, 
 fine brows looked out a pair of brown, lustrous 
 eyes ; the nose was fine and small, the lips scarlet, 
 with a half-defiant, half-appealing expression ; the 
 face in tint a clear brunette, with warm color in 
 the cheeks. 
 
 It was easy to see that this child had thriven, 
 for her dozen years of life, on sun and wind and 
 untrammeled freedom. The wild joy of living ran 
 in her blood ; the hardihood of outdoor life had 
 given its elastic firmness to her slender but vigorous 
 frame. She looked like a creature of a different 
 strain from the cloister-bred girls, who now stood 
 wistfully watching the astonishing brilliancy of her 
 face and figure. 
 
 " The demoiselle de Mousson, my children," said 
 the superieure. The smile with which she spoke 
 would have been winning but for a faint suggestion 
 of mockery which underlay it. Speaking then to 
 the child, whose hand she still held, she added, 
 indicating the younger of the two novitiates : 
 
 " This, mademoiselle, is her grace of Bourbon- 
 Montpensier, the Princess Charlotte, of whom the 
 Queen of Navarre has told you many things."
 
 The little maid, with a shy smile of pleasure, 
 dropped upon her knees and kissed Charlotte's 
 hand. A delicate flush tinged the cheeks of the 
 young princess and her face grew marvelously 
 radiant. 
 
 "Oh, tell me quickly," she exclaimed, "have 
 you come even now from Beam ? Have you seen 
 my cousin of Navarre of late ? Did she send me 
 her greeting by you ? Why does she not come to 
 visit me ? And how is Prince Henri ? Have you 
 played with him often ? Tell me all, everything." 
 
 " Gently, gently, Charlotte," said madame, with 
 a touch of coldness in her warning voice. "You 
 ask many things in one breath, and time fails now 
 to make reply." 
 
 Turning then to the second novitiate, who had 
 stood slightly in the background, she drew her for 
 ward and presented her to the new-comer as Jeanne 
 or Jeannette Vassetz. 
 
 " We have now two Jeannes," she said with her 
 cold, quiet voice, " for this is Jeanne de Mousson." 
 
 "I was named for her majesty of Navarre, 
 Jeanne d'Albret," said the child proudly. "She 
 is my godmother." 
 
 Charlotte de Bourbon clasped her hands in a 
 gesture of admiration. 
 
 "Ah, but you are the fortunate one ! " she ex 
 claimed. 
 
 Again madame's gentle smile with its faint shade 
 of mockery. She had herself stood sponsor to 
 Charlotte, who was her sister's child. 
 
 " It is hardly possible for you all to enjoy such 
 favor as that," she said softly, and at once led the 
 way through the cloister to the long, low range of 
 buildings on the side opposite the chapel. 
 
 Passing from the early sunlight through a long 
 corridor with bare stone floor and dimly frescoed 
 walls, she entered the refectory followed by the 
 three children, Jeanne de Mousson, in her worldly
 
 5 
 
 dress, her unbound hair, and her rich coloring, look 
 ing, beside the pale novices, like some tropical bird 
 of gorgeous plumage which had fluttered down from 
 the sunshine and alighted beside a pair of caged 
 and meek white doves. 
 
 " You may both take your breakfast at my table 
 this morning," madame said graciously to the two 
 Jeannes. Charlotte by reason of her rank always 
 had her seat at her aunt's right hand. 
 
 To the new-comer, as she followed the superieure 
 down the length of it, the room in which they were 
 about to break their fast was sombre and cold even 
 to sternness. The vaulted roof, high and dim, the 
 stone pillars upholding it, the bare walls and floor, 
 the uncovered tables forming three sides of a paral 
 lelogram, with narrow, unpainted benches along the 
 outer side, the rows of nuns standing motionless in 
 their black hoods and robes behind the tables, made 
 up an ensemble of unrelieved gloom. 
 
 Madame de Long-Vic, for this was the name of 
 the abbess of Jouarre, took her place at the center 
 of the table which extended across the upper end 
 of the room and which was reserved for dignitaries 
 and guests of rank. Standing, while a complete 
 hush fell upon them all, madame's clear, gray eyes 
 scanned the rows of sisters. They all stood with 
 downcast eyes, all faces alike showing the monot 
 onous pallor and the expressionless restraint of the 
 cloister. An instant's glance satisfied the abbess 
 that all were in their places and she accordingly 
 lifted the forefinger of her right hand, a significant 
 gesture followed by a chant sung in full chorus by 
 the whole company. As the sounds of the chant 
 died away, again the forefinger with its symbolic 
 ring was lifted, and at this second sign all were 
 seated. Lay sisters now placed upon the tables the 
 portions of bread, water, and vegetables which con 
 stituted the breakfast of the order. 
 
 Not one word broke the silence. Jeanne de
 
 Mousson, still unpractised in the convent routine,, 
 was about to speak to Jeannette, but was promptly 
 checked by the latter, who cast an anxious look 
 at madame's face as she laid her small, childish 
 forefinger on the red lips of the new and alarming 
 Jeanne. 
 
 High up, on the wall facing the table of the siipe- 
 rieure, projected a tiny balcony furnished with a 
 reading desk, to which a door gave access from an 
 upper corridor. This door now softly opened and a 
 priest in black gown entered the pulpit, and having 
 crossed himself repeatedly, opened a small book and 
 proceeded to read aloud a sermon in Latin in a mo 
 notonous chanting cadence. 
 
 This was Pere Ruze, who for a few months in the 
 year 1558, took the place of confessor-in-residence 
 to the Abbey of Jouarre. 
 
 The little Bearnaise, who left her breakfast un- 
 tasted, glanced from Pere Ruze to Madame de Long- 
 Vic, and thence her eyes passed down the sombre 
 rows of nuns. Nowhere was light or gladness or 
 the promise of them. Her glance then strayed 
 aside to the face of Charlotte de Bourbon. She had 
 lived in this drear place all her life and yet had kept 
 that celestial sweetness of look. It was after all,, 
 then, a life that could be lived.
 
 II 
 
 THE THREE NOVICES 
 
 IN the cloister garth, hidden in a dense mass of 
 laurel and palm, stood a small, marble statue 
 of the Virgin and child. Within the shrubbery, 
 and surrounding the figure at a distance of but a few 
 feet, ran a circular seat of gray stone, weather-worn 
 and lichen-covered. The place was known as Our 
 Lady's Arbor. 
 
 Here, on the following day, at the hour for rec 
 reation after the early convent dinner, came the 
 three little maids with chance at last to chatter. 
 Having said each a hurried erne before the Virgin, 
 they perched nimbly upon the old stone seat, the 
 new Jeanne between the others, who still loved to 
 look at her bright gown, and found pleasure in 
 drawing their fingers through the loose waves of 
 her unbound hair. For not until she had passed 
 the first term of her novitiate would the young 
 Bearnaise assume the habit of a religieitse, which, 
 modified to suit their age, the others had worn for 
 several years. 
 
 "This is where we always come," said Jean- 
 nette demurely, feeling it incumbent upon her to 
 enlighten the inexperience of the new-comer. " Do 
 you not think it is very pretty ? " 
 
 Jeanne de Mousson looked about her at the stiff, 
 glossy leaves of palm and laurel rising darkly far 
 above their heads, at the prim little statue, well- 
 scrubbed and stony, and shook her head slightly. 
 
 " Do you never run ? Can we not go out in the 
 fields and woods and hunt and fish ? " 
 
 The two convent-bred girls stared speechless for 
 
 7
 
 8 
 
 a moment. Then Charlotte de Bourbon said slow 
 ly : 
 
 " We can go out in the garden every day, and 
 we are allowed to help gather roses for the per 
 fume-making. That is fine sport," she added 
 almost timidly, as if fearing her mild pleasures 
 would be scorned by her new friend. 
 
 Jeanne for answer dropped on both knees on the 
 gray stones which paved the sombre arbor, threw 
 her arms around Charlotte's waist, and buried her 
 face in her lap. The burnished waves of her brown 
 hair were scattered in confusion over Charlotte's 
 white dress, her slender, gracieuse frame was shaken 
 by sobs. 
 
 "Oh, Jeanne, dear, wild little Jeanne, what 
 makes you do so ? You must not cry. Indeed 
 you must not!" pleaded Charlotte earnestly, 
 while Jeannette, drawing near on the stone seat, 
 bent over in deep concern. 
 
 " What ails her ? " she framed with her lips 
 silently. 
 
 Charlotte shook her head pensively for answer. 
 
 Then Jeanne tossed up her head, shaking back 
 her hair, and with flushed face and eyes shining 
 with tears, sobbed out : 
 
 " Oh, you darling princess ! My heart aches 
 when I think that you have never been free. You 
 make me love you too much, so that I cannot bear 
 it that you are so patient, and let them take away 
 all the world from you. To have lived like this 
 always ! Oh, it is too terrible ! " 
 
 " Hush, Jeanne ! " commanded Charlotte, with 
 a touch of hauteur, "we have all to obey our 
 parents, or those who care for us in their place," 
 remembering that Jeanne was an orphan child. 
 Then, her lips quivering in spite of herself, she 
 added : " I can go back, you know, once every year, 
 and see my mother and Franchise." 
 
 With the name Franchise her own tears came
 
 swiftly to the surface, but dashing them away with 
 a swift, impatient gesture and a bright smile she 
 asked in a voice which trembled slightly : 
 
 "Have you been at court, Jeanne? Because 
 you may have seen my sister, Franchise. And 
 then my brother, Francois, you must have heard 
 of him ; he is oh, so strong and tall already, and 
 more beautiful than any of the Valois princes. 
 Such a right gallant, soldierly boy ! Monsieur the 
 Due de Guise already wishes to have him join the 
 army, and he is sure to make a great commander. 
 Is he not, Jeannette ? " and Charlotte glanced at 
 her faithful friend for confirmation. 
 
 "Oh, yes," was the reply ; " the prince-dauphin 
 is most noble and debonair. He is like Mademoi 
 selle, only, of course, not so fine." 
 
 It was for the sake of this ardently loved brother 
 that the little Bourbon had been placed in the con 
 vent in her infancy, that so his estate, unencumbered 
 by any claim for her dowry or support, might the 
 better befit his rank. The Bourbons were poor. 
 
 There was a brief silence. Then Charlotte 
 spoke again, noting the anxious faces of her com 
 panions. 
 
 " I shall not have to be here always," she said 
 with nai've, childish confidence. " Oh, most cer 
 tainly not ! That would be quite beyond my duty 
 and my will. When Francois is well established, 
 then, you see, I shall go back to my mother and 
 live at court and be like the rest." 
 
 "Oh, Charlotte!" exclaimed Jeannette, "will 
 you go away from Jouarre, then, and leave your 
 poor Jeannette ? Then you will break my heart. 
 You know I could not live here without you," and 
 tears flowed fast down the good little face. 
 
 Charlotte watched her, grieved and pondering, 
 while Jeanne de Mousson, standing before them, 
 looked from one to the other with flashing eyes. 
 
 " No, your highness," she exclaimed softly ;
 
 10 
 
 "you cannot leave your two Jeannes! They will 
 follow you wherever you go. They are yours ! " 
 
 Suddenly then Charlotte smiled with radiant eyes 
 into the ardent face of Jeanne. 
 
 " Yes," she cried, with the impulsive ardor of a 
 child, " we belong together. I am yours. You 
 are mine. We go and we stay together. Is it a 
 pledge ? " and she sprang to her feet, holding out a 
 hand to each, 
 
 " It is a pledge ! It is a pledge ! " they cried 
 eagerly. " Together we stay, together we go," 
 and they all clasped hands, and then with one ac 
 cord made the sign of the cross upon their breasts, 
 while their faces grew grave and gentle. 
 
 Then Charlotte said to Jeanne, "Now you are 
 no more to call me ' your highness ' or ' your grace.' 
 Let us be all alike, for that is as we are before 
 God," with which she gave each a kiss in turn 
 with sweet, engaging grace. 
 
 Children as they were their souls knit together 
 for life in that moment. Back again upon the old 
 stone seat Charlotte said : 
 
 " But you have not answered me my question, 
 Jeanne de Mousson. I asked you long ago if you 
 had ever been at court ? " 
 
 " Do you mean at the court of Navarre ? For 
 there I have been continually. Or at the court 
 of France ? For there I have been once." 
 
 " Oh, the last. When were you there ? " 
 
 " It was last May, and because I was there is 
 the reason I am here," and Jeanne's face grew 
 sober. 
 
 " Tell us all about it, as fast as you can," put in 
 Jeannette, " for Sister Cecile will be coming after us 
 and then it will be time for vespers, and then the 
 day is all gone again." 
 
 "Her majesty, Jeanne d'Albret, you may have 
 heard, Charlotte, went in a great hurry to Paris 
 last May; the king too, and Prince Henri."
 
 II 
 
 "I do not know what took them there," said 
 Charlotte. " I know my cousin likes far better her 
 own small court at Pau and Nerac." 
 
 "It was all about the new religion," said 
 Jeanne, sinking her voice to a whisper. "Oh, 
 there are troubles without end," and she shook her 
 head with mighty seriousness. 
 
 " Is it true that my cousin, Antoine de Bourbon, 
 permits heretic preachers in Navarre ? " asked 
 Charlotte. 
 
 "Yes, he permits them; also he goes to hear 
 them, and bids them to his court, and his majesty, 
 King Henri, grew very bitter in his anger, and com 
 manded that such things should be stopped at once. 
 Oh, indeed, the king made terrible threats, such as 
 to send an army into Navarre to stamp out the 
 treason, for so he calls it." 
 
 "What said Jeanne d'Albret ? Does she also 
 like heretics ? " asked Charlotte, plainly perplexed. 
 
 " Not as her husband does ; but you know her 
 way. She is light-hearted and free and strong, 
 and likes to have joy all about her. She was not at 
 all afraid of these mighty threats of King Henri, 
 but said she would go to Paris at once and see her 
 good cousin of Valois and make better feeling. 
 And then it was decided that the prince, Henri, 
 should go also, and madame took me with her that 
 I might see the great city and the palace of the 
 Louvre and all the rest. We started the very next 
 day." 
 
 "And how did. Henri behave at the French 
 court, Jeanne ? " asked Charlotte. " I suppose he 
 is a fine boy by this time." 
 
 "He is five years old, you know," replied 
 Jeanne, " and bright and handsome like his mother. 
 Every one at the court was charmed with his ways 
 so bold and yet so winning. Oh, the queen knew 
 very well what she did when she took him to King 
 Henri ! His majesty was dark and grim to us all at
 
 12 
 
 first, and it looked like a gloomy time for every 
 body, until the prince captivated him so wholly that 
 one day he gave over all his sour looks and called 
 Henri to him and took him on his knee, and even 
 asked him, only fancy it, if he would be his little 
 son ? " 
 
 " What said Henri to that ? " 
 
 "You know he does not speak French well yet, 
 only Bearnais, which I think rather fascinated his 
 majesty. He pointed to Antoine of Bourbon and 
 said, ' That is my father,' as stoutly as you please, 
 shaking his curly head and laughing saucily. He 
 is so different, you see, from those pale, peaked 
 Valois youths. The king liked him for his fearless 
 ness, and so he said then, and quite as if he meant 
 it too, ' Well, then, my little Bearnais, if you will 
 not be our son we shall have to make you our son- 
 in-law ! ' And to that the prince said, ' Oh, yes, 
 that I will be, sire, with all my heart ! " 
 
 "How pretty of him," said Charlotte. 
 
 " Was it not ? And it was said all through the 
 court afterward that the king was in earnest and 
 that great things may come of this some day. 
 Every one thinks of the tiny Princess Marguerite, 
 who is of Henri's age and as bewitching as she can 
 be. Certain was it that everything went beauti 
 fully for us after this at court and every one made 
 much of us, and of the little de Mousson with the 
 rest," Jeanne added mischievously. 
 
 " But the most wonderful thing of all was how 
 all the fury about the religion seemed to calm down 
 presently. It was but a short time before that 
 King Henri had sent for the Sieur d'Andelot, who 
 is own brother of the Admiral of France, Coligny, 
 and accused him of holding the Reformers' faith, 
 and when he declared it was quite true and so he 
 did, which certainly was most rash of him, and 
 small wonder made trouble, his majesty threw a 
 plate at his head and sent him forthwith to prison."
 
 13 
 
 " Oh, is that the reason that the Sieur d'Andelot 
 was sent under guard down here to Meaux and is 
 now in prison there ? " exclaimed Jeannette. 
 
 "Oh, yes. He is a terrible heretic," returned 
 Jeanne impressively. " When we heard of this we 
 did not know what might befall us before we got 
 safely back to Beam, but the king now seemed 
 strangely mild, and said almost nothing about the 
 religion. And no offense was taken even when we 
 walked, all of us, Antoine de Bourbon and the 
 queen and all our suite in the Pre-aux-Clercs and 
 joined in the singing of those psalms of the Sieur 
 Marot which all the world has gone so wild over." 
 
 " But you have yet to tell us, Jeanne," said Jean 
 nette, with a touch of impatience, " how it befell 
 that by your going to the court of France you had 
 to come to the convent of Jouarre." 
 
 " I am just coming to that. The trouble was," 
 said Jeanne naively, "that, alas for me, certain 
 stupid folk at the Louvre took it into their heads 
 that the little de Mousson was good-looking." 
 
 At this Charlotte and Jeannette laughed the low, 
 repressed laugh of the convent. 
 
 "Worst of all, it happened that her majesty 
 Queen Catharine declared plainly that I would 
 even make a beauty. Now you see my poor 
 mother was one of the ladies who followed in her 
 train when she came here from Italy to be married 
 to the king. He was but the Due d'Orleans then, 
 you know, and the Dauphin yet living, and who 
 thought that the daughter of the Medicis would ever 
 be queen of France ? Ah, how I do run everything 
 together ! But Queen Catharine did declare that 
 for my mother's sake and all, she should adopt me 
 as one of her maidens, and by and by make a 
 lady-in-waiting of me." 
 
 " Oh, how fine ! " exclaimed Charlotte. 
 
 " Not fine at all," said the young Gascon, shak 
 ing her head seriously.
 
 14 
 
 "Was her majesty quite, quite in earnest?" 
 asked Jeannette, with a shade of incredulity and a 
 measuring glance at the brilliant face of her new 
 friend. She was pretty, to be sure ; but there 
 were many as much so, she reflected. 
 
 "Alas for me, she was in full earnest, and 
 nothing can shake her when her purpose is once 
 formed." 
 
 " But why do you not wish then to become a 
 lady-in-waiting ? " said Jeannette half-enviously. 
 " I wish I had such a chance." 
 
 "Oh, no, dear Jeannette," returned Jeanne de 
 Mousson, "you would not if you knew what it 
 means. Nothing is more terrible for a young girl 
 than to win the favor of the queen. You do not 
 understand. I did not until Madame d'Albret came 
 to me that night in my little sleeping closet, which 
 was off from her chamber, and talked to me for an 
 hour." 
 
 As she said this Jeanne's bright face was pain 
 fully clouded. 
 
 " Her majesty said it was hard to tell such dark 
 things to a child, and put thoughts of evil and fear 
 into my heart ; but I was a motherless girl, and 
 she alone must defend me. Queen Catharine her 
 self " and Jeanne's voice dropped to a whisper 
 and a slight rustle in the laurel leaves passed unno 
 ticed " is as cold and as virtuous as madame the 
 superieure here. She looks as if she were cut out 
 of ivory. She has not the sins of others at court, 
 but she helps to make others sin because so she 
 can use them and gain power by them. Madame 
 d'Albret says that the troop of beautiful demoiselles 
 whom we saw always around in the great salons 
 and halls were to the queen just like pawns on a 
 chess-board. They call them the queen's flying 
 squadron. I would rather die, girls, than be one 
 of them ! Now you know why I am here. It was 
 my only escape."
 
 15 
 
 Tears stood in Charlotte's sweet eyes. 
 
 " How very hard to leave dear Madame d'Albret 
 and your bright, free life in Beam, " she mur 
 mured. 
 
 " Harder than I can tell," replied the young 
 Bearnaise choking back a little sob. "It broke my 
 heart to leave her majesty ; and now that I know 
 what the convent is like, I fear more than before 
 that I never can become a religieuse." 
 
 "Oh, Jeanne, not even to save your soul?" 
 asked Jeannette reprovingly. 
 
 Just then the vesper bell began its slow chiming. 
 With the stroke which called the three little maid 
 ens to their feet, the figure of a woman dressed in 
 the black robes of the order, emerged swiftly and 
 noiselessly from the thicket of laurel forming Our 
 Lady's Arbor, and hastened to enter the chapel 
 door. 
 
 "Eh bien!" said Jeannette, catching a glimpse 
 of her retreating figure as the three came out into 
 the cloister, "there is Sister Cecile now. Did she 
 call us ? I did not hear her." 
 
 Sister Cecile Crue was the mistress of the 
 novices at Jouarre. 
 
 That evening she held a long and secret confer 
 ence with the confessor, Pere Ruze, who in turn 
 wrote a letter to monseigneur the Due de Bourbon- 
 Montpensier, father of Charlotte de Bourbon.
 
 Ill 
 
 THE PETIT-MORIN 
 
 IN the garden of Jouarre Abbey the beds of thyme 
 and lavender, of rosemary and bay, were giving 
 forth their goodly odors. 
 
 Late roses were blooming too, in the garden of 
 Jouarre. They showed brave and red in the Oc 
 tober sun, and their odor was sweeter than all the 
 rest. Between the ranks of the rose-trees an el 
 derly nun with a kind, simple face walked slowly. 
 Over her hands gloves were clumsily drawn, and 
 she carried a gTeat pair of garden-shears. 
 
 This was Sister Radegonde, and she had been the 
 nurse of the Princess de Bourbon since the day she 
 was brought, a baby, to Jouarre. 
 
 Behind her, with light feet and low laughter, came 
 the little maid herself, and with her the two Jeannes 
 holding baskets in which they gathered up the roses 
 as they fell beneath the shears. 
 
 On the southern border of the garden were the 
 convent dove-cotes, where the doves were peace 
 fully tripping about in the sun with their musical 
 murmuring. To the west lay the massive stone 
 walls of the refectory and dormitory with their pic 
 turesque roofs, their latticed casements swinging in 
 the warm breeze, their quaint, pointed towers and 
 gables. 
 
 An ancient oak, thickly festooned with mistletoe, 
 grew just before the wide porch of the cloister, 
 whose gray columns and delicately carved arches 
 stretched into a dim and shadowy background. 
 Beyond the cloister stood the beautiful Sainte 
 Chapelle, with its graceful tower, and the adjacent 
 16
 
 17 
 
 chapter house, and yet farther to the east was the 
 cemetery, studded thickly with small crosses. In 
 the midst of these and high above them all rose 
 the tall, imposing stone crucifix, the ancient glory 
 of Jouarre, its arms wreathed with exquisite fleu- 
 rons and bearing its double effigy. 
 
 As they lifted their eyes from their roses the 
 little maids of Jouarre looked beyond the tall cross 
 and the low graves about it, beyond the chapel and 
 the enclosing buttressed wall, and saw at the foot 
 of the hill the Petit-Morin flashing between its 
 green banks ; saw the fair glebe and the fruitful 
 fields of La Brie stretching beyond, and longed 
 with the wild unspeakable longing of childhood to 
 range freely where they would. 
 
 " Now, my good little helpers," said Sister Rade- 
 gonde, " I have to go into the woods. It is just the 
 day to gather the herbs and roots for our cordials, 
 and I must make haste that I may return for ves 
 pers." 
 
 " Where are the woods ? " asked Jeanne quickly. 
 
 Sister Radegonde pointed down the hillslope and 
 the smooth grasslands where the cows belonging 
 to the abbey were grazing. Between these and 
 the river was a stretch of oak forest beginning to 
 change and grow brown and russet already. 
 
 " Oh, dear, dear Radegonde, let us go with you," 
 exclaimed Charlotte, throwing her arms around the 
 withered neck of her old nurse with a sudden irre 
 sistible impulse. "We need to run and stretch 
 our legs, and we will carry your basket, and be per 
 fectly obedient." 
 
 "We will dig the roots for you, Sister Rade 
 gonde," cried Jeannette. "We will save your 
 poor back, if only you will take us, and you know 
 how stiff and lame it has been of late." 
 
 The sight of the three wistful, upturned faces 
 was too much for the good old soul. 
 
 " What harm can it do ? " she muttered to her-
 
 i8 
 
 self ; " the saints bless their pretty hearts ! Poor 
 lambs, thus to beg for what they ought to be free 
 to do every day of their lives ! " and she bent down 
 and patted Charlotte's pale cheek. 
 
 " The little Bearnaise there, she has had her fill 
 of sun and air and chance enough to grow strong 
 and sturdy ; and Jeannette too has had her turn, 
 but my own sweet child, my little white lily, has 
 never had one free race over the fields in all her 
 blessed life," and Radegonde caught Charlotte to 
 her breast and showered kisses on her head. Hers 
 was all the motherly petting that the princely child 
 in her loneliness had ever known. Nevertheless, 
 a mother's heart yearned unceasingly over her, and 
 while it could not speak, could not be comforted. 
 
 Already, seeing Sister Radegonde so favorably 
 inclined, Jeanne de Mousson was darting swiftly 
 down toward the end of the garden where a small 
 wicket gate in the abbey wall gave exit to the fields 
 beyond. This gate, however, was closely locked 
 and barred. 
 
 "Softly, softly," cried Radegonde. "What a 
 wild bird you are, to be sure. I do not know what 
 Sister Cecile Crue will say." 
 
 "She went to Meaux this morning with Sister 
 Marie Beauclerc to see the bishop, or some like 
 errand," hastily interposed Jeannette. 
 
 "That is true," replied Radegonde, plainly re 
 lieved ; " and madame " 
 
 " Madame would permit it this once," urged Char 
 lotte ; " but she would be greatly displeased if you 
 disturbed her at this hour, you know." 
 
 "True again, mignonne," said the old nun, and 
 she hastened to carry her roses to the low building 
 at the southern border of the garden where the op 
 erations of distilling perfumes, cordials, and tinc 
 tures were carried on by the nuns. 
 
 In a few moments the three children were darting 
 through the gate unlocked for them by Radegonde,
 
 and racing like young deer down the sloping pas 
 ture toward the woods. 
 
 The breathless run over the velvet softness of 
 the smooth-cropped meadow, the sense of un 
 checked freedom, of throwing her own small person 
 into the liberal spaces whither she chose, birdlike 
 and unbounded, thrilled Charlotte with an un 
 known ecstasy. The others forgot their own pleas 
 ure in watching the motions of her lithe graceful 
 limbs, each motion eloquent of delight, while her 
 face grew rosy and her large eyes brilliant. 
 
 "She was born for freedom," murmured old 
 Radegonde to herself. " May I live to see the day 
 
 " but here she bit her lips and looked to see if 
 
 Jeannette, who was nearest to her, had heard her 
 words. 
 
 In the woods all the doughty promises of work 
 were promptly forgotten, and old Radegonde's 
 back was left to take care of itself while the chil 
 dren ranged freely through the underbrush, gather 
 ing acorns with the instinctive desire of children to 
 appropriate anything of neat and elegant form, how 
 ever useless, and quite indifferent to the homely, 
 serviceable herbs for which Radegonde was faith 
 fully searching. 
 
 Presently Jeanne de Mousson's trained and eager 
 eyes made a discovery. The woods grew to the 
 edge of a bank, steep but not twenty feet high, at 
 the foot of which flowed the Petit-Morin, hastening 
 westward to reach the Marne. Down under this 
 bank, on the river's edge, tied to a stake, lay a 
 small skiff, bare and empty. 
 
 Jeanne de Mousson clapped her hands with de 
 light. 
 
 " Come, come quickly !" she cried to the others, 
 and not stopping or caring to tell them for what 
 purpose, she drew them with her and plunged with 
 light, sure feet down the gravelly bank. 
 
 Jeannette followed timorously, but Charlotte's
 
 20 
 
 blood was up and she was ready now for any 
 thing. 
 
 Springing into the boat, Jeanne looked at the 
 other two, who stood on the edge of the little river, 
 which was high between its banks, swollen by the 
 September rains. The oars had been removed, 
 the boat was tied. It looked a harmless bit of 
 play. 
 
 " Come, step in, Jeannette, and give Mademoiselle 
 the seat in the stern," cried Jeanne. " It shall be 
 the royal seat, cushioned, you see, in crimson vel 
 vet, with a silken canopy above her head, and a 
 banner flying the Bourbon lilies on a field azure. 
 Hasten, before we hear Sister Radegonde calling ! 
 Why do you wait ? The boat is tied, surely no 
 harm can follow." 
 
 As Jeanne thus challenged them, standing grace 
 fully poised on the rocking edge of the old boat, 
 her hair flying, her dark eyes shining, her face bril 
 liant with daring, the two to whom she was no less 
 wonderful than the freedom of the fields and forest, 
 found in her voice the voice of the wild life of 
 nature calling to them irresistibly. 
 
 In another instant Charlotte was reclining in the 
 invisible grandeur of the stern, while Jeannette 
 took the bow and Jeanne de Mousson, in the mid 
 dle, with her brown hands on the sides of the rick 
 ety craft, rocked it gently up and down, the rope's 
 length only out in the current of the Petit-Morin. 
 
 All this was safe and sensible, and even the pru 
 dent Jeannette forgot her scruples. But full soon 
 the effervescing Gascon spirit of the young de 
 Mousson, impetuous and audacious, broke out in 
 strength and a storm arose. From a gentle motion 
 she changed to one of violence, and the more 
 madly she rocked the boat the brighter shone her 
 eyes, the more brilliant became her smile, for she 
 watched the face of her little princess and caught 
 the inspiration of her kindling joy. In a moment
 
 21 
 
 the inevitable had happened. The rope by which 
 the boat was loosely moored became untied by the 
 persistent motion, all unseen by the children, and 
 before they dreamed of it they were slipping qui 
 etly down the river. Jeanne de Mousson was the 
 first to perceive it. The storm abated then with 
 startling suddenness and the boat glided smoothly 
 onward. 
 
 "We are adrift," she said quietly, her eyes on 
 Charlotte's face. 
 
 A glance at the trailing rope and the receding 
 bank showed the statement to be true. 
 
 "Very well," said Charlotte de Bourbon, not 
 moving save to fold her hands with a strange ges 
 ture of content. " Since we cannot help ourselves 
 let us go on." 
 
 Jeannette began to cry a little. 
 
 "What are you afraid of ? " asked Jeanne with 
 curling lip. 
 
 Jeannette was thinking of madame and Sister 
 Cecile Crue ; also of Pere Ruze and penance. Be 
 sides, there was the chance of shipwreck, of which 
 she had heard terrible things, and a cold grave 
 among the reeds in the bottom of the Petit-Morin. 
 As the current grew stronger and the boat increased 
 its motion these fears intensified and Jeannette 
 sobbed under her breath. 
 
 "Do not cry, Jeannette," said Charlotte with 
 gentle, unconscious authority, "I like it." 
 
 Jeannette looked at her face then and her sobs 
 ceased. Jeanne too looked and the scorn left her 
 lips and the bold daring in her eyes grew softer. 
 The child in the stern was carried quite beyond 
 their thoughts of doubt and danger, and they per 
 ceived it. Her lovely face was lifted, the white 
 coif had slipped from her head and her golden hair, 
 thus set free, was blown back from her forehead, 
 which was calm and pure and royally molded. 
 The blue eyes were full of a new light, and some
 
 22 
 
 strange inspiration gave a lustre to all her look 
 such as they had never seen. 
 
 She stood then in the stern and looked up into the 
 blue dome of the sky above their heads ; she felt 
 the rapid current beneath their frail shell, the swift 
 breath of the wind upon her cheeks ; she saw the 
 green meadows of La Brie stretch broad and sunny 
 on either side. For the first time in her life, with 
 a wild, breathless thrill, she felt herself free.
 
 IV 
 
 THRUST AND PARRY 
 
 MADAME LOUISE DE LONG-VIC sat in the 
 hall of the abbess' house awaiting the visit 
 of Pere Ruze. 
 
 This hall, which was the private audience room 
 of the superieure, was of ample size and agreeable 
 proportions. The floor, on which leopard skins and 
 rich carpets were laid, was of dark wood, highly pol 
 ished ; the walls were hung with Cordova leather ; 
 the ceiling, rather low than otherwise, was crossed 
 by heavy oak rafters, curiously carved with her 
 aldic and ecclesiastic symbols, among which the 
 monogram of Saint Columban and the date 634 re 
 curred frequently. At the end of the hall opposite 
 the entrance was an enormous projecting chimney- 
 piece, carved in massive oak, in which was set a 
 dim, archaic painting of Sainte Theodehilde, first 
 Abbess of Jouarre, who died in the odor of sanctity 
 in the seventh century A. D. 
 
 Before the chimney, in which a fire of beech logs 
 was burning, filling the room with ruddy light, stood 
 two chairs with ecclesiastical canopies of elaborately 
 carven wood, and a table at a slight distance was 
 set forth with a dainty and sumptuous evening 
 meal. Madame partook of all other meals in the 
 common refectory. The third meal of the day, 
 served in her own hall, was frequently shared by 
 guests of the abbey, and was of a ceremonious and 
 stately character. 
 
 From the carved ceiling hung silver chandeliers, 
 exquisite productions of Venetian goldsmiths, filled 
 with wax lights, which were reflected from wall 
 
 23
 
 24 
 
 mirrors fitted in between the panels of darkly 
 gleaming embossed leather. On a massive buffet, 
 filling the end of the room opposite the chimney, 
 were ranged flagons, cups, and " marvelous fair ba 
 sons " of gold and silver plate of rich workman 
 ship and design. In fine, the hall of the abbess at 
 Jouarre, in startling contrast to the ascetic bareness 
 of the other portions of the establishment, expressed 
 in itself not a little of the peculiarly sumptuous but 
 subtle and refined luxury of that Renaissance which 
 Francis I. had introduced into France from Italy. 
 
 Madame de Long-Vic, who had sat watching the 
 fire dreamily, rose from her seat and began to pace 
 the hall with slow, noiseless tread. 
 
 Her appearance at this hour contrasted even more 
 strangely with her ordinary aspect than did the 
 richness of her private apartment with that of the 
 convent in general. Her conventual habit laid 
 aside, according to the relaxed custom of the Bene 
 dictines of her day, much of the austerity of her 
 aspect vanished, while its authority and distinction 
 remained, and the Abbess of Jouarre appeared rather 
 the stately chatelaine than the watchful-eyed sup'e- 
 rieure. In fact, Louise de Long-Vic, having enjoyed 
 for many years the honors and revenues of this 
 opulent abbey, had found in it a position of worldly 
 advantage well suited to her mind. Advanced in 
 mid-life she still retained the delicate grace of face 
 and figure characteristic of her family, and as she 
 moved to and fro in the firelight in her flowing dress 
 of gray satin she bore the unmistakable air of the 
 grande dame. 
 
 A lay sister in attendance interrupted her medi 
 tation by the announcement that Pere Ruze was 
 at the door, and at the word of the superieure, the 
 priest with an obeisance expressive of admiring de 
 votion entered the hall and presently seated himself 
 in his accustomed hooded chair, to which a gracious 
 gesture of madame's hand invited him.
 
 25 
 
 Jean Ruze, doctor of the Sorbonne and confessor 
 to Henri II., was a man of fine physique and im 
 pressive presence, predestined it would seem to a 
 bishopric. He had the imperturbable repose of 
 countenance, the benevolent smile, the slow, im 
 passive manner and speech, and the delicate, chas 
 tened gallantry in his bearing toward women which 
 mark the successful ecclesiastic. However, while 
 all these impressive characteristics had been dis 
 played in madame's presence daily for nearly three 
 months, she had confessed to herself definitely 
 within the last half-hour that she did not like Pere 
 Ruze and that she distinctly preferred that he 
 should leave Jouarre. Accordingly, being an adroit 
 woman and accustomed to managing men shrewdly, 
 she received Pere Ruze to-night with a cordiality 
 approaching warmth. 
 
 As they sat facing each other over the well- 
 seasoned viands noiselessly served to them by the 
 black-robed sister, and of which Ruze partook 
 heartily and madame not at all, she remarked in a 
 casual, careless tone : 
 
 " Is it two months or three, monsieur, since you 
 came to us at Jouarre ? " 
 
 " It is rather more than three, madame," was the 
 reply, spoken in a rich, well-modulated voice. " If 
 you remember it was in the week following the 
 ill-fated battle of Gravelines that I came, directly 
 after the death of Pere Boquin left you without a 
 confessor." 
 
 " And Gravelines was on July the twelfth." 
 
 The priest bowed assent. 
 
 "You have been long away from court." 
 
 " Yes, madame," returned Ruze, sighing gently ; 
 "longer than the three months, which I have spent 
 with such unmarred enjoyment in the repose of 
 your charming convent. For nearly a month be 
 fore I came hither I was almost constantly at 
 Meaux or at Melun."
 
 26 
 
 " Oh, to be sure, in the affair of the Sieur d'An- 
 delot. And are you now quite satisfied with the 
 results of your mission ? " Madame asked the 
 question with the politeness which betokens indif 
 ference to the answer. 
 
 Ruze shook his head with an expression of serious 
 concern. 
 
 " It is too soon, madame, to be confident. The 
 Sieur d'Andelot most certainly consented to be 
 present at a celebration of the mass. 1 myself ad 
 ministered in person and know whereof I affirm. 
 But since by the grace of his most puissant majesty 
 freedom has been restored to him, I hear strange, 
 disturbing rumors. I like it not that he has made 
 such haste to join Coligny. Madame," and the 
 priest straightened himself in his chair and struck 
 his hand with emphasis upon the table before him, 
 "madame, when once these insidious and corrupt 
 ing doctrines enter into the heart of a man or woman, 
 or even of a child, there is no faith nor truth to be 
 found in that heart!" and crossing himself de 
 voutly Pere Ruze murmured a brief prayer for the 
 deliverance of the church from these evil snares 
 and schisms. 
 
 Louise de Long-Vic watched him narrowly, as if 
 to satisfy herself of his sincerity. The attendant 
 now brought wine and fruit, trimmed the candles, 
 arranged the fire, and withdrew. When they were 
 alone madame asked with a shade of coldness : 
 
 " Did you tell me that it was at his majesty's re 
 quest that you came to Jouarre, monsieur ? " 
 
 Ruze looked at her with a shrewd, swift glance : 
 
 "His majesty was pleased to appoint me to this 
 pleasing and most welcome service, until such time 
 as the return of my young pupil, the prince- 
 dauphin, madame your sister's son, shall make 
 my presence demanded at Paris. Or, let me add, 
 until his grace, the Bishop of Meaux, shall appoint 
 a successor to Pere Boquin, whom may God ab-
 
 27 
 
 solve," added the priest with a devout inclination 
 of his head. 
 
 Madame drew her chair slightly away from the 
 table and played with the long stem of her wine 
 glass. 
 
 " Monsieur," she said presently, fixing her eyes 
 upon the face of Pere Ruze with her quiet, cynical 
 smile, " what are you really here for ? Why not 
 tell me ? " 
 
 Instead of showing surprise, the face of the 
 priest only became a shade more impassive than 
 before. He took a pear from its silver dish and 
 turned it about in his fine, well-kept hand, regard 
 ing its blushing and waxen surface with musing con 
 sideration for a moment before he spoke. Perhaps, 
 on the whole, it was time to be frank. The orchards 
 of Jouarre were famed for their exquisite fruit ; ma- 
 dame was undeniably both a clever and a charming 
 woman. And yet he was getting a little weary of 
 this quiet life in La Brie ; court life would not come 
 amiss after three months of hearing these simple 
 nuns patter their petty confessions and their end 
 less prayers. 
 
 " Madame," he said, looking up with the winning 
 smile of the courtier in place of the benevolence of 
 the priest, "you asked me a question awhile ago. 
 Will you give me the liberty of asking you the 
 same ? How long haveyou been at Jouarre ? " 
 
 Plainly this was an unexpected shaft, and one 
 which found a weak point in madame's defensive 
 armor. A slight tremor of her eyelids, however, 
 only indicated the fact. 
 
 " Does monsieur mean as supZrieure? " she asked 
 quietly. 
 
 "Precisely." 
 
 " It is nearly fifteen years." 
 
 Pere Ruze appeared to reflect with the serious 
 ness of one approaching an interesting subject for 
 the first time.
 
 28 
 
 "In time madame could even afford to retire," 
 he said musingly. The revenues of the rich abbey 
 of Jouarre were a matter of conjecture rather than 
 of knowledge to outsiders. 
 
 A slight flush tinged madame's cheeks. 
 
 "Madame is still young, charming, born to com 
 mand in some larger field of influence. Madame is 
 not, we will hope, without resources " 
 
 Louise de Long-Vic tapped her slender foot impa 
 tiently on the floor. 
 
 " Why not say plainly, monsieur, the Due de 
 Montpensier has sent you here to arrange for my 
 withdrawal in favor of his daughter ? I have sus 
 pected this before, but have put the thought forci 
 bly from me as monstrous. The child is not yet 
 
 twelve years old, a frail, innocent little creature 
 > > 
 
 " There was, I believe, an unwritten promise at 
 the birth of Mademoiselle ? " the question was 
 asked with insinuating gentleness. 
 
 " But the promise supposed that the canonical 
 age should have been reached." 
 
 " Marie de Bourbon became Prioress of Poissy 
 at the age of four," said Ruze reflectively. 
 
 "Doubtless outrages have been committed," 
 said madame slowly; "but I can assure you that 
 my sister will never give her consent to have these 
 measures forced upon her little daughter." 
 
 Pere Ruze shook his head regretfully. 
 
 "It is much to be deplored that her grace, the 
 Duchesse de Montpensier, should have no voice in 
 a matter of so much moment." 
 
 " What mean you, monsieur ? " asked madame 
 sternly. 
 
 " Alas, madame, it is known only to a few, but 
 your sister is at heart a heretic. You cannot fail 
 to realize the necessity of withdrawing these 
 princely children absolutely from an influence so 
 baneful. It is sad, indeed, for monseigneur."
 
 Madame de Long-Vic's color changed swiftly. 
 She was about io speak when a loud knock at 
 the door was followed by Sister Radegonde, who 
 burst rather than walked into the room, wringing 
 her hands and exclaiming : 
 
 "Mademoiselle is lost, and the little Vassetz and 
 the de Mousson with her ! Ah, madame, do with 
 me what you will ! It is I alone who am to 
 blame! " 
 
 Closely following Radegonde came Sister Cecile 
 Crue, newly returned from Meaux. 
 
 "To think," she cried softly, with a curious 
 mingling of consternation and triumph on her face, 
 " only twelve hours have I been absent from 
 Jouarre, and yet this has happened ! I shall not 
 leave my post again, madame, while I have my 
 reason." 
 
 Madame de Long-Vic looked at the mistress of 
 the novices with a glance of cold dislike, but 
 turned swiftly to Radegonde and demanded an ex 
 plicit account of what had happened. The room 
 was quickly filling with curious and breathless 
 nuns. Pere Ruze listened keenly for a moment. 
 When he heard mention made of a vanished boat 
 on the river he left the women to themselves, 
 hastened swiftly from the hall, and by its private 
 gate made haste to leave the abbey precincts. 
 
 Within five minutes he was galloping down the 
 hard, white road toward La Ferte-sous-Jouarre, 
 where the Petit-Morin flows into the Marne. A 
 half-mile short of the hamlet he met what he hoped 
 to meet, namely, a peasant's wagon. It was an 
 open wagon, lumbering heavily, driven by a 
 countryman in a gray blouse and long-peaked cap, 
 who carried a lantern. In the wagon, on a little 
 scattered straw, sat three young girls. Pere Ruze 
 reined in his horse and stood within the shadow of 
 a high bank to let them pass, then turned, himself 
 unnoticed, and followed them at a distance. What
 
 30 
 
 he saw did not surprise the priest. What he heard 
 surprised him much. 
 
 In their clear, childish voices, nothing daunted 
 nor dismayed by what might await them, the three 
 little maids, one of whom he recognized, even in 
 the dim light, as Mademoiselle de Bourbon, were 
 singing the psalms after Clement Marot. 
 
 "Plainly," said Pere Ruze, riding quietly on be 
 tween the fragrant and dewy fields, "the time for 
 action has come."
 
 THE DUG DE MONTPENSIER VISITS HIS SISTER- 
 IN-LAW 
 
 THE bleak gray days of the November of 1558 
 passed painfully to the little maids of Jouarre. 
 Pere Ruze having with bland benevolence in 
 flicted the bitterest penance for their involuntary 
 escapade and the most useful which he could de 
 vise, namely, the complete separation of the three 
 from each other's company, and having entrusted 
 the accomplishment of this penance to the care of 
 the faithful Sister Cecile Crue, rode off one day in 
 the direction of Paris. In time he would return. 
 As to that, Madame de Long-Vic did not deceive 
 herself. However, a month passed and more. 
 
 Then, when Christmas snows whitened glebe 
 and garden and the red roofs of Jouarre, and cold 
 winds whistled through the cloisters and chilled the 
 unwarmed cells of the nuns and novices and made 
 life itself a perpetual penance, then, on such a day, 
 the gates of the abbey swung wide and over the 
 bridge and into the abbey court rode his grace, the 
 Due de Montpensier, and in his train rode Jean 
 Ruze. 
 
 Now Sister Radegonde was as watchful in her 
 way as Sister Cecile Crue, and, with the instinct 
 with which the hen hastens to gather her chickens 
 under her wings when the hawk is swooping near, 
 she betook herself to Charlotte on the instant, 
 while the porter, on his knees before the great 
 lord, was still murmuring his benedicite. 
 
 She found the child in the infirmary, where a 
 trifling illness had kept her for a few days. She 
 
 31
 
 32 
 
 was lonely and listless, with over-bright eyes and 
 flushed cheeks. 
 
 " Ah, my precious one," said Radegonde, " mon- 
 seigneur the Due is here and you will soon be sent 
 for. Shall 1 say that you are ill ; that you cannot 
 
 go ? " 
 
 " How mean you, Radegonde ? " asked the child 
 proudly, while her breath came quicker and the 
 color went and came in her cheeks. "Do you 
 think I would not see my father when he has come 
 so far to see me ? " 
 
 It was bravely done, for never yet had the visit 
 of Louis de Montpensier brought aught but added 
 rigor and sadness to the martyred life of his child ; 
 but Radegonde knew what she knew, and as she 
 prepared the toilet of her little princess tears ran 
 unchecked down her face, which was cold and red 
 with the raw December morning. 
 
 This did not escape the eyes of Sister Cecile, 
 who was presently upon them, with a mighty air of 
 importance, to make Mademoiselle ready and con 
 duct her to the presence of her august sire. 
 
 " Voilh, Radegonde," she said coldly, "Made 
 moiselle will do very well now. His grace cannot 
 be kept waiting for you to weep over his kindness 
 in riding twenty miles out of his way on such a 
 morning simply to show his affection for his child. 
 Come, Mademoiselle." 
 
 " Thanks, Sister Cecile," said Charlotte, leading 
 the way, holding Radegonde's hard old hand. 
 " Will you too go with us ? " 
 
 Cecile followed, slightly set back. It was after 
 this fashion that the little Bourbon now and again, 
 but rarely, made the women about her feel that she 
 knew herself after all to be of the blood royal. 
 
 In the hall of the abbess, before the great buffet, 
 at which he stood to drink a glass of wine, Char 
 lotte met her father and swept him a courtesy to 
 the very ground with the grace of one to the man-
 
 33 
 
 ner born, then lifted a shy, sweet smile of wistful- 
 ness which, seeing, the Due responded to with a 
 kiss, cold rather than fatherly. 
 
 A tall, soldierly man was Louis de Montpensier, 
 head of the younger branch of the house of Bour 
 bon, peer and prince of France. In his splendid 
 costume of velvet and miniver, with his proud and 
 handsome Bourbon features animated by the instinct 
 and habit of command, he stood the imposing per 
 sonification of authority, confronting the small, 
 white-robed novice in her cloistral shyness. Mad 
 ame de Long-Vic, appearing to-day in her black 
 conventual robes and with her abbess face of wan 
 austerity, watched them from her place apart, and 
 her heart sank to see the two, so unequally matched, 
 pitted against one another. 
 
 And yet, had Louise de Long-Vic been less a 
 woman and more a seer, she might have discerned 
 that in the end, in the long duel of which one bout 
 was now passing before her eyes, it would be the 
 weak, defenseless child who would win. For Louis 
 de Bourbon was by instinct, by habit, by life, a 
 petty tyrant, and petty tyranny in the end must 
 always surrender. His fatal fault, as it is the fault 
 of all tyrants, was his fanatical stupidity, which 
 could see in human souls no forces greater than he 
 could mold to his will. Pledged by birthright and 
 inheritance, by habit and training to the ancient 
 religion, he had no hold upon the noble and perma 
 nent elements of that Catholic faith of which he 
 was so fiery a champion. It was to the powerful 
 political and social organization, to the concentrated 
 authority, to the perfected discipline of the system 
 that he so hotly adhered, while the vital and spir 
 itual essence informing these mighty energies es 
 caped him. As an engine for the use of despotic 
 power he found the church supreme and in accord 
 with his own instinctive bent. Upon those who 
 swerved from the right line punishment must be
 
 34 
 
 swift and summary. Extermination he regarded as 
 the only and sufficient specific. Had he been 
 Protestant he would have made Catholic martyrs. 
 To differ with him in opinion was to be guilty of 
 crime. Like the man whom he adored and upon 
 whom he ardently modeled himself, Philip II. of 
 Spain, the Due dreaded in the Protestant cult those 
 notes of doom to tyranny, freedom, inquiry, repub 
 licanism, and with the instinct of his class he 
 availed himself of every means of suppression to a 
 reform whose success meant the fall of monarchy. 
 
 But, like Philip in his implacable hatred of inde 
 pendent thought and in his fervent devotion to the 
 notions of monarchy and papacy, Montpensier was 
 unlike Philip in the field in which he exercised his 
 tyranny. Where Philip ruled over a kingdom the 
 Due ruled over a family of women and children, 
 and even here he was destined to be outwitted in 
 the end. His wife, Jacqueline de Long-Vic, first 
 lady of honor to Catharine de Medici, was a woman 
 of noted personal charm and intellectual ability. 
 Her husband, her inferior in every noble faculty, 
 depended upon her influence at court and her in 
 tuitive leadership in matters of State policy. Thus 
 the fact that she was known to be, although not 
 avowedly, Protestant, produced no public scandal 
 or separation between husband and wife. On the 
 other hand, in relation to their children the Due, 
 with the vengeful bitterness of his baffled will and 
 pride, took the power into his own hands and de 
 clared their mother disqualified to have any voice 
 in determining their future careers. One thing 
 was fixed : he would far rather see his children 
 dead than see them Protestant. 
 
 Such was the prince, such the father, who look 
 ing down upon Charlotte de Bourbon now re 
 marked, with grim gallantry : 
 
 " By our Lady, Mademoiselle, you grow pretty. 
 Whence won you such bright eyes, and so bright a
 
 35 
 
 bloom in your cheeks ? I have seen them pale and 
 lifeless hitherto. Had you but a dowry we might 
 marry you yet to some cavalier of good degree." 
 
 "Is madame, my mother, well?" Charlotte 
 asked simply, wisely ignoring this line of conversa 
 tion. 
 
 "Madame is very well. She can think of noth 
 ing latterly, however, save the marriage of your 
 sister Franchise to the Due de Bouillon, with which 
 she is highly pleased." 
 
 Charlotte choked back a sob. No word of love 
 or remembrance from her dear mother ! Was she 
 then quite forgotten ? So it seemed. Her dearest 
 sister married and she unable to see her as a bride 
 or give her one kiss of farewell ! But with the self- 
 control of long discipline she uttered no complaint, 
 rather asked : 
 
 " And my brother, Francois ? " 
 
 "He is still with the Due de Guise. We shall 
 make a soldier of him." Then abruptly, with a 
 gathering frown, the Due said : 
 
 "Mademoiselle, my time is short for these mat 
 ters. Let me ask you, then, what is this that I hear 
 of an attempt, awhile since, at running away from 
 your home here at Jouarre ? " 
 
 " Monsieur has been misled. There was not 
 such an attempt. There was an accident. No run 
 away was intended." 
 
 " I hear of a little vagabond sent here by Jeanne 
 d'Albret, for the very purpose, no doubt, of corrupt 
 ing you from the true religion and leading you into 
 all kinds of wild adventures. De Mousson is 
 that her name ? It was her work, I understand." 
 
 " Monsieur has been misled." Again the childish 
 courage ; there was trembling lip, quickened breath, 
 but the heart of her still dauntless. "Jeanne de 
 Mousson did not lead me into this accident. I went, 
 monsieur, of my own good will, and when she and 
 the Vassetz would have stopped the boat sooner,
 
 3 6 
 
 for we had the chance, I would not let them, be 
 cause I chose to go farther. It was my own doing 
 and my own fault." 
 
 " You are bold, Mademoiselle," and the soldier 
 looked with an odd twitch of his lips at the gallant 
 child. 
 
 " I am your daughter, monsieur," Charlotte 
 made answer cannily, with another courtesy. Mont- 
 pensier laughed shortly. 
 
 " Is it perhaps within your plans to make further 
 essays in this direction ? You seem well satisfied 
 with your success in this." 
 
 " No, monsieur, such is not my thought." 
 
 " Have you been punished properly for this wild 
 caper ? " 
 
 "Sufficiently, monsieur." 
 
 " What has Pere Ruze given you for penance ? " 
 
 "Paternosters and aves without end," sighed 
 Charlotte pensively. 
 
 " And is that all ? " and the Due's brows knit 
 stormily. 
 
 "No, monsieur; I cannot speak to my dear 
 friends, my two Jeannes. I have now no joy in 
 life," and Charlotte's lips trembled. 
 
 "When Mademoiselle is naughty she can expect 
 no joys. It is only the good and the obedient who 
 are happy," and the Due glanced at madame as if 
 expecting confirmation of this impressive platitude, 
 but madame's eyes were fixed upon the floor. 
 
 "Have you, then, thus far duly discharged the 
 penance assigned you by Pere Ruze ? " he added 
 more sharply. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur." 
 
 " Very well. I will not keep you longer. I have 
 much to confer upon with your aunt ; but before 
 you go, let me say this," and Montpensier laid a 
 heavy hand upon each slender arm of his daugh 
 ter and looked with stern, hard eyes into her face : 
 "Pere Ruze is to you in the place of God. You
 
 37 
 
 have no knowledge of right or wrong apart from his 
 teaching. If he punishes you, submit. If he 
 praises you, be glad. He is not only in the place of 
 God to you, but also in my place. He is here to 
 represent me, your father. Whatever he bids you, 
 you are to obey him positively, without question or 
 opposition. You have known, hitherto, the lightest, 
 most childish of penances. For those who disobey 
 there are penances which crush out the very heart's 
 blood." 
 
 As he spoke those last words slowly and with pe 
 culiar distinctness the face of Montpensier became 
 sinister in its ominous harshness, while the sugges 
 tion of a fanatical cruelty, with which the sixteenth 
 century was but too familiar, gave to what he said 
 the effect of physical violence. 
 
 Trembling through all her slight frame, Charlotte 
 looked up for a gentler word of parting, but it was 
 not vouchsafed her. With a gesture of dismis 
 sal and a cold salutation the Due turned to Madame 
 de Long-Vic, and the child slowly, and as if half- 
 paralyzed, made her way out of the hall. In the 
 ante-room she found old Radegonde waiting to take 
 her in her arms and soothe her like a baby upon her 
 breast, and so carry her through the dark labyrinth 
 ine corridors back to the narrow bed in the cheer 
 less room she had left. 
 
 "I am hurt, Radegonde," moaned the child, 
 "something aches so here," and she clasped her 
 small hands over her heart. " Something dreadful 
 is coming to me. I feel it and know it, but what it 
 is I cannot understand. Oh, how can I bear any 
 more ? " 
 
 And Radegonde with her own heart bursting with 
 rage and pain was powerless to gainsay her. 
 
 Meanwhile Louis de Montpensier, well pleased 
 with the palpable success of his policy of intimida 
 tion, turned to his sister-in-law, and remarked : 
 
 " Madame, the times are waxing evil. It be-
 
 38 
 
 hooves us to act circumspectly, with promptness 
 and prudence." 
 
 Madame de Long-Vic lifted her downcast eyes 
 slowly, allowed them to rest, cold and unresponsive, 
 upon the face of the Due for a moment, and then 
 withdrew her glance. She was neither a tender 
 nor an impulsive woman, but at that moment all 
 her heart was crying out its pity for the bruised and 
 bleeding spirit of her little niece, and she burned to 
 pour her scorn upon the fanatical martinet who 
 stood before her now as self-satisfied as if he had 
 wrought a high deed of valor and chivalry. 
 
 Receiving no response to his sagacious generali 
 zation, the Due now added : 
 
 " You have heard, I daresay, of the death of the 
 consort of Philip of Spain, Mary Tudor, on the 
 seventeenth of last month ? " 
 
 Madame had heard of the event. 
 
 " The consequences to Christendom are likely to 
 be exceeding serious," continued the Due. "The 
 base-born daughter of Henry by one of his court 
 ladies, Mistress Anne Boleyn, succeeds." 
 
 " So I have heard," said madame. 
 
 " The Lady Elizabeth. She is said to be Protes 
 tant. All that has been built up in the brief but il 
 lustrious reign of Mary and his Spanish majesty is 
 like to be now undone, and we may see all England 
 lost to the true faith. Surely this contagion spreads 
 like the plague itself. Flanders is full of it, I bear, 
 and insolence and presumption go from bad to 
 worse. But the king of Spain is preparing to make 
 short work there, and his majesty of France will 
 not be far behind in stamping out this canaille with 
 an iron heel." 
 
 " Canaille you can scarce call them of the new 
 religion, monsieur, since among them can be num 
 bered already princes of the blood and such men 
 as the Admiral of France." Madame spoke in her 
 quiet, measured tones, her face calmer even than
 
 39 
 
 its wont. Her words and no less the chill of her 
 manner stirred Montpensier to an outburst of the 
 passion which had been gathering beneath the sur 
 face throughout the interview. 
 
 " By my faith, madame," he cried hotly, " I am 
 fain to fear that even the seclusion of a convent 
 such as this is not proof against the poison ! Can 
 it be, then, that your sister has already won your 
 ear to the accursed heresy with which she has be 
 trayed the faith and fealty of the house of Bourbon, 
 and made the name of Montpensier a byword and 
 a scorning to its enemies ? " 
 
 The face of the Due turned purple, as his fury 
 fired by his own words grew, until great cords stood 
 out on his forehead. Louise de Long-Vic watched 
 him, undismayed ; she was prepared now for his 
 worst. 
 
 " I shall live and die, monsieur," she said rising, 
 " in the most holy Catholic faith, and in loyal sub 
 mission to the church of which I have sought to be 
 a faithful though humble servant. But when you 
 speak of my sister, your wife, in terms such as 
 these I must decline to prolong our conference." 
 
 " Be seated, madame ! " cried the Due. " This is 
 no time for play-acting. I am here for a purpose. 
 Be pleased to remain until that purpose is made 
 known to you." 
 
 For a moment they faced each other, the delicate 
 woman and the harsh, fanatical tyrant, as if they 
 had been preparing for an actual passage at arms, and 
 then, seeing that the crisis might not be avoided, 
 Louise de Long-Vic resumed her seat. 
 
 "1 am here, madame," proceeded Montpensier, 
 "to cite you to the understanding which was made 
 between us at the time my daughter was brought, 
 an infant, to Jouarre. Our compact provided that 
 she should, in due time, succeed to the position 
 which you have held these many years with full 
 power and privilege, and, as is well known, greatly
 
 40 
 
 to your own advantage. The time is come to act 
 upon that understanding. Pardon my bluntness, 
 madame. I am a soldier, not a diplomatist. I strike 
 from the shoulder when the time comes to strike. 
 You have my errand." 
 
 " Monsieur, may I recall to your remembrance 
 that the agreement which was unwritten regarding 
 the succession of your daughter, Charlotte, made 
 due reference to her first attaining the canonical 
 age ? It was never intended that she should become 
 Abbess of Jouarre in her childhood. Ten years 
 hence I shall gladly retire in her favor. To-day, 
 monsieur, pardon me if I follow your lead, and my 
 self speak plainly the proposition is preposterous." 
 
 " Ten years hence ! " and again the Due's wrath 
 rose high. " That will give you plenty of time, 
 will it, madame, to feather your nest with the 
 revenues of Jouarre fully to your mind ? Plenty 
 of time too, for these infernal heretics to pour their 
 poison into the mind of my daughter ? Plenty of 
 time to compass the defeat of a father's lifelong 
 hopes, and make him the butt of scorn in court and 
 camp ! Mort Dieu, madame, it is too late to talk of 
 ten years ! A month were better suited to my in 
 tent, and would better suit your character as a 
 woman and as a religieuse, and as mother's sister to 
 my child. Have you really her salvation at heart ? 
 or is it only, as begins to appear, your own worldly 
 gain of which you take heed ? According to your 
 decision you will be judged," and Montpensier's 
 eyes scanned her face with scorching intensity. 
 
 " And the agreement of monsieur that I should 
 hold my office until Mademoiselle reached the fitting 
 age goes for naught ? " said madame, meeting his 
 look with her own unshrinking gaze. 
 
 " There was no such agreement," replied the 
 Due hardily. " I remember nothing of the kind." 
 
 Madame's face relaxed into a slight smile of cold, 
 incredulous contempt.
 
 41 
 
 "Ah, monsieur," she said softly, "at length I 
 apprehend you. You must pardon the slowness of 
 my perception. Until now I had fancied myself 
 conferring on terms of faith and honor. I have no 
 weapons to use in this species of combat which you 
 have chosen. I leave you master of the field." 
 
 With these words, and with eyes that shot their 
 gleams of scorn full upon his face, Louise de Long- 
 Vic swept the Due de Montpensier a profound obei 
 sance, and so left the room. 
 
 Left alone, the Due walked up and down for a 
 little space, smiling cynically. 
 
 "She has mettle," he murmured to himself; 
 " the de Long-Vies have fighting blood, and can set 
 up a stout defense when you press them too hard. 
 She is beaten, however, which for the case in hand 
 is all that can be asked." 
 
 A few moments later an attendant was sum 
 moned, who was sent forthwith to fetch Pere Ruze 
 to wait upon his grace. 
 
 After an hour's conference, to which Sister Cecile 
 Crue was later bidden, the Due's suite was ordered 
 to remount, and the small but brilliant cortege soon 
 rode out through the abbey gate, and galloped down 
 the road to Meaux, by which they had come. 
 
 Pere Ruze alone was left behind.
 
 VI 
 
 " CETTE PAUVRE ENFANT " 
 
 A HEALTHY self-interest made Sister Cecile 
 Crue an efficient partner with Pere Ruze in 
 carrying out the will and purpose of Louis de 
 Montpensier. 
 
 During the long and worldly prosperous rule of 
 Louise de Long-Vic as abbess of Jouarre, Cecile 
 had grown to womanhood with an ever-deepening 
 desire to share the power to which she had so long 
 deferred. Promoted, by reason of prompt and punc 
 tilious service, to the position of mistress of the 
 novices, she found that with this she had reached 
 the limit of advancement possible under Madame 
 de Long-Vic. The prospective position of Char 
 lotte de Bourbon at Jouarre was perfectly under 
 stood by the nuns, but until these last events no 
 suggestion of a change in the office of abbess for 
 many years to come had been whispered. 
 
 With the advent upon the quiet routine of con 
 vent life of Pere Ruze, an ecclesiastic of distinc 
 tion at the court of France and representing as he 
 did the Montpensier interests, the keen perceptions 
 of Sister Cecile detected a possibility of startling 
 and imminent revolution. Plainly he was here for 
 a purpose. 
 
 The shrewdness of Cecile at once foresaw in 
 this possible bouleversement her own and her only 
 avenue to promotion and power and to a share in 
 the rich emoluments of the abbey. With a child 
 as prioress, a sub-prioress would be an imperative 
 necessity ; and who would naturally be placed in 
 that office but the circumspect mistress of the nov- 
 42
 
 43 
 
 ices, already the subtle rival of madame in influ 
 ence among the sisters of the house ? 
 
 Unsuspected for a time by madame, Cecile had 
 shown herself to Pere Ruze as a supple and useful 
 tool in the delicate operation before him, and a 
 quiet understanding had been formed between the 
 two to which madame's eyes were at last opened. 
 It was now, however, too late for her to meet plot 
 with counterplot or to place herself openly or se 
 cretly in opposition to the Due. A more unselfish 
 woman would perhaps have braved all odds and 
 fought a generous fight for the helpless child, in 
 whose defense no champion but herself could now 
 appear. 
 
 Madame, however, loved ease and quietude too 
 well to enter the lists thus unequally equipped and 
 do battle for the protection of a child against her 
 own father, when upon that father's side all the 
 sentiment and sympathy of her world would be en 
 listed. Accordingly she now quietly began her 
 preparations to retire to the chateau of Long-Vic, 
 which was hers by inheritance, and with cold and 
 scornful withdrawal she left Ruze and Cecile to 
 work out their own and their master's purposes 
 with Charlotte de Bourbon. 
 
 Thus the new year, 1559, dawned upon the little 
 princess in strangely ominous loneliness. With 
 her "two Jeannes " she was still forbidden to hold 
 intercourse. Her aunt was kind but mysteriously 
 distant and preoccupied, given, however, to glances 
 and casual words of pity, a pity more disturbing 
 than her coldness. 
 
 The nuns about her began to watch her with 
 curious looks and to speak of her as " cette pauvre 
 enfant." 
 
 No word reached her from the outside world. 
 Neither from camp nor court came any message to 
 speak of a father's remembrance or a mother's love. 
 Save for poor Radegonde's humble devotion, the
 
 44 
 
 assiduous attentions of Pere Ruze and the espion 
 age of Sister Cecile, Charlotte was left to herself. 
 
 But not for long was she to remain in ignorance 
 of the step which she was destined next to take. 
 
 Pere Ruze approached the subject first in the 
 confessional, cautiously suggesting that it was now 
 ti-me for herself and Jeannette Vassetz to complete 
 their vows and assume the habit and vocation of 
 the sisterhood. 
 
 To this Charlotte replied flatly that she did not 
 intend to take the final vows nor assume the habit 
 of the order ; in short, she did not wish to become 
 a religieuse. A second attempt was made with the 
 presence and aid of Sister Cecile. On this occasion 
 the intention of the Due that Charlotte should be 
 straightway exalted to the honors and privileges of 
 her aunt's position was insinuated, at first with 
 great caution and then plainly declared. Looking 
 from one to the other she made answer simply : 
 
 "Mais, mon p&re, it is impossible ! I am only a 
 child. How could I direct this great house, and 
 govern all these women who are so much older and 
 wiser than I ? You must have misunderstood my 
 father's wish." 
 
 They let her go for that time, and she hastened 
 to Radegonde, crying: " They cannot force me to 
 make profession, they cannot force me to become 
 abbess against my will, can they, sister ? Never, 
 never will I consent to such a thing ! I know my 
 mother loves me still, although she never comes to 
 me or sends me her love and greeting any more. 
 But I know of a surety that she wishes me to go 
 back to her, and I am going, Radegonde. I am 
 going as soon as she sends for me ! " 
 
 Then Radegonde said plainly : " Mignonne, your 
 mother will never send for you. That is beyond 
 her power. You are in the hands of Pere Ruze. 
 Do not struggle against his will. Remember the 
 words of monseigneur."
 
 45 
 
 That night, as on many another which followed 
 it, Charlotte cried herself to sleep, and the child- 
 heart within her fainted for fear. But when day 
 light came her courage returned, and again and 
 yet again she met the advances of the priest with 
 steady, albeit respectful repulse, worthy of the high 
 Bourbon spirit and resolution which were within 
 her. 
 
 Then at length Sister Cecile came to Ruze after 
 compline one dreary March evening and said : 
 
 " Mon p&re, behold, we prevail nothing. The 
 winter is over, you perceive, and as yet nothing 
 has been accomplished. Madame is but too well 
 suited and speaks no more of departure. You are 
 content, then, to let this baby outwit you ? Me- 
 thinks monseigneur will find you something soft 
 hearted, n'est-ce pas ? " 
 
 Ruze looked at the nun with a slow, inscrutable 
 smile. He had that morning received a 1 messenger 
 from the Due. 
 
 " Do not disturb yourself, Sister Cecile," he 
 said ; " something will be done to-night. I must 
 ask you to bring Mademoiselle to matins and re 
 main in the chapel until I can join you." 
 
 Cecile looked into the face of the priest with 
 shrewd inquiry, but received for the nonce no 
 further enlightenment. 
 
 Under the present regime Charlotte had been re 
 moved from the immediate care and oversight of 
 madame and a small carrol adjoining the chamber 
 of Sister Cecile in the novices' house had been as 
 signed her. Scrupulously neat, like all the cells of 
 the nuns, its furnishing consisted of a narrow bed 
 and a chair of unpainted wood, a benitier against 
 the wall, above which hung a "discipline" or 
 scourge, and a rush mat or two on the cold stone 
 floor. 
 
 Here, just after midnight, Sister Cecile, candle 
 in hand, fully clad in her black hood and robes,
 
 4 6 
 
 stood for a moment to watch before waking the 
 unconscious child. Released from its coif, Char 
 lotte's hair flowed in bright waves over the pil 
 low ; her small hands were clasped and nestled 
 under her chin ; her face was exquisite in its 
 dreamless repose ; her very attitude as she lay on 
 the hard, white bed and the lines of her graceful 
 though childish form bore a dignity which touched 
 the sense of the woman beside her with an inde 
 finable awe. 
 
 " Take heed that ye despise not one of these little 
 ones; for I say unto you, that in heaven their angels 
 do always behold the face of my Father. ' ' 
 
 Words like these came to her memory with star 
 tling distinctness in the hush and stillness which 
 held the place and brought with them an inner 
 trembling. Had this child, then, with her pure 
 brow and the strange majesty of her innocence, 
 an angel in' silence beholding, invisibly defending, 
 in sternness witnessing against that which should 
 be done ? 
 
 For an instant Cecile, not highly gifted with im 
 agination or with sympathy, drew back and hesi 
 tated. Even then the slow chiming of the convent 
 bell struck upon her ear in the silence, sad minor 
 tones, but persistent, authoritative, and not to be 
 withstood. 
 
 Laying her hand upon the shoulder of the sleep 
 ing child, Cecile held the candle where its rays 
 struck full upon the quiet eyelids, and called 
 softly : " Waken, Mademoiselle, you must rise and 
 come with me to matins." 
 
 Charlotte opened her eyes, against which the 
 light smote poignantly, smiled up into the face of 
 the nun with the instinctive habit of sweet-hearted 
 childhood, and murmured sleepily: "But I never 
 had to go to matins before, Sister Cecile, had I ? 
 That is altogether new ; but I shall not mind, you 
 know," her feet already on the floor and her ten-
 
 47 
 
 der limbs trembling from the bitter chill of the 
 night. 
 
 Quickly dressed, Charlotte took a candle which 
 Cecile gave her and followed her through the dark, 
 winding passages which led to the cloister. Spec 
 tral figures of nuns, with their long, black hoods 
 and pallid faces, glided on before them, each with 
 her flickering candle, each chanting a low, lugubri 
 ous strain. Thus they passed through the dark 
 ness and rigor of the cold cloister, where a moon as 
 pallid as the faces of the nuns looked coldly down 
 upon them through the ancient arches, and entered 
 the transept door of the Sainte Chapelle. 
 
 Lighted only by one dull, misty lamp burning 
 before the altar, the interior of the church of Jou- 
 arre was at this hour like a pit of blackness, in 
 which Charlotte's eyes presently could discern the 
 crouching shapes of the sisters kneeling on the 
 floor. As in a wail of yearning heaviness the 
 voices, some harsh, some strangely sweet, rose in 
 the chant : 
 
 " Deus in meum adjuvandem me festina." 
 
 At the altar, with hands folded over the cross 
 upon his breast, stood the imposing figure of Jean 
 Ruze. Unnoted, apparently, by the others, Cecile 
 led Charlotte to the deeper shadow of the stone 
 desk near the choir, where with sharp, observant 
 eyes, stood the circa, to whom belonged the disci 
 pline of the nocturnal services. 
 
 Dazed and wondering, Charlotte knelt beside 
 Sister Cecile while psalm and prayer followed in 
 monotonous course, and when the final words of 
 benediction had been spoken and she would have 
 unbent her stiffened knees and risen from the cold 
 pavement, a touch on her shoulder admonished her 
 not to leave her place. 
 
 Then, all the nuns having passed with noiseless 
 tread from the chapel, these two still kneeling alone 
 in the icy gloom, Charlotte saw Pere Ruze, who,
 
 48 
 
 coming from the sanctuary with slow and solemn 
 steps, stood before them and held out his hand. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," he said, with his benevolent 
 smile and mellow voice, " 1 must ask you and Sis 
 ter Cecile to come with me." 
 
 He turned then, and they followed him in perfect 
 silence through the dim choir out into the Lady 
 Chapel and thence by a narrow passage lighted only 
 by their own candles, to a flight of steep, descend 
 ing stairs cut apparently in the rock upon which the 
 chapel had been built. 
 
 Charlotte hesitated here for a moment, repelled 
 by the dark, earthy vapors which rose from below, 
 but a motion of Cedle's eyelids impelled her still 
 to follow, and after a moment of dizzy winding 
 down the steep, spiral staircase they reached the 
 crypt of Saint Paul, the mortuary chamber of the 
 abbey church. At a signal given by the hand and 
 eye of the priest, Cecile halted and remained 
 standing at the foot of the stairs, candle in hand, 
 with downcast eyes and still, impassive counte 
 nance, while, taking Charlotte by her hand, he 
 led her forward into the cavernous spaces which 
 stretched before them in thick darkness. 
 
 As they advanced, the light from the torch which 
 the priest carried and from Charlotte's faint candle 
 brought out into fleeting sight the weird, fantastic 
 sculpture of the heavy Norman pillars supporting 
 the low vaulted roof, the vague outlines of the 
 old Merovingian tombs, the ghostly effigies of saints 
 rising at intervals between the shafts. When they 
 stopped it was before a central tomb, in which re 
 posed, open to their view, a figure of the dead 
 Christ in stone, startling and dreadful in its veri 
 similitude. 
 
 Until now neither the priest nor the child had 
 broken the silence of the place by a word. 
 
 Charlotte had grown paler and a sharp contrac 
 tion of her throat made every breath a pang ; but
 
 49 
 
 there was calmness still in the look which she now 
 lifted to the face of her confessor. It said that she 
 was perturbed, shaken, and oppressed, but in it 
 there was still the divine confidence of childhood. 
 It was a look which searchingly inquired, but 
 which did not reproach. The eyes of Pere Ruze 
 were veiled against the look which they could not 
 meet. 
 
 With studied deliberation he now fastened his 
 torch into a rusty iron socket which projected from 
 a pillar closely fronting the tomb and its awful fig 
 ure, then seated himself upon a block of stone 
 which formed the base of the pillar, gently took 
 the candle from the hand of the child, extinguished 
 it and placed it on the floor beside him. Every 
 movement of Pere Ruze was suave and of a sooth 
 ing gentleness, and yet, as he now held out his 
 strong, white hand and drew her to his knee, and 
 even as he laid that hand as if in blessing on her 
 head, the child trembled violently, and an irrepres 
 sible sob broke from her lips. Still she did not 
 speak. She left the initiative of this strange collo 
 quy wholly to the priest, who, perchance, found it 
 not altogether easy. 
 
 "My daughter," he said presently, with his 
 most subduing softness, "to-night a final question 
 must be asked of you, and your final answer must 
 be given." 
 
 The thick, murky blackness around them swal 
 lowed up the red flare of the torch and seemed to 
 rest palpably upon them in the breathless silence. 
 
 " I have even to-day received commands from 
 his grace, your noble father. We have too long 
 yielded to your strange unwillingness to take upon 
 you the holy vows to which you were pledged 
 in your cradle, to tread the path of sanctity and 
 peace, to be exalted to the high privilege of the 
 mother of God's saints." 
 
 Still the child did not speak. 
 
 D
 
 50 
 
 "I ask you, Charlotte de 'Bourbon," and now 
 the voice of the priest assumed a solemnity which 
 she had never heard before, and an inflexible stern 
 ness took the place of the pacifying smile which 
 usually dwelt upon his lips, "I ask you once 
 more, in the name of our blessed Lord, whose 
 sacred, broken body is now before you, will you 
 obey the voice of your father, the voice of your 
 father in God, the voice of Holy Church which 
 has graciously protected and nourished you through 
 all the years of your life, and perform the duty now 
 commanded you ? " 
 
 "Father, I cannot." Her voice was low, her 
 breast heaved with piteous sobs ; she stood defense 
 less, but her steadfastness was unmoved. " I have 
 no vocation to be a religieuse ; something in my heart 
 forbids me. I want to go to my mother. I want to 
 be free. If I take these vows it would be without 
 heart, it would be false and vain." 
 
 The short, broken sentences followed each other 
 with the sharp, gasping breath between. The 
 priest took the little hand, which hung limp and 
 nerveless by her side, and laid it on his knee. 
 
 "So," he said softly, "do not close the fingers. 
 Let them lie thus, slackened." And he placed the 
 forefinger and thumb of his own right hand upon 
 the small wrist, in which the pulse labored fiercely, 
 and so continued to hold it throughout the interview. 
 It would not do to go too far. Even Montpensier 
 would prefer to stop short of an extremity. 
 
 But even with this action, whose gentleness 
 veiled a purpose beyond the child's innocent appre 
 hension, Ruze's lips sharpened again to their cruel 
 sternness, thinly masked in a smile. 
 
 " Mademoiselle, you must understand that this 
 profession, this sacred office, while irrevocably 
 binding, may lie gently and pleasantly upon you. 
 You have known confinement and discipline suited 
 to your years and the term of your novitiate. As
 
 Abbess of Jouarre you will know power, ease, lux 
 ury, wealth, and pleasure. Where you have hith 
 erto obeyed, you may henceforth command. You 
 will be answerable only to your confessor, and he 
 will be your dependent. It is a gracious and an 
 easy task that is set you, Charlotte de Bourbon. 
 Think well before you reject it, for child though 
 you are, the church will not forcibly exalt those 
 who reject her gifts." 
 
 But the heart of the little maid was not more 
 accessible to this appeal than to those which had 
 gone before. 
 
 "Father," she said, "it is not wealth and ease 
 and pleasure that I want ; I want love, I want lib 
 erty. I will die rather than be Abbess of Jouarre." 
 
 " You prefer death, Mademoiselle ? Death, how 
 ever, may not be so easy. Do you, then, prefer 
 Fontevrault ? " 
 
 This word acted upon the child with strange 
 effect. The small frame shuddered visibly, and 
 wavered as it stood. 
 
 "Mademoiselle has heard, perhaps, of Fonte 
 vrault ? " 
 
 She bent her head in faint assent. 
 
 "Yes," said the priest reflectively, "at Fonte 
 vrault there is a donjon not unlike the donjon at 
 Jouarre, and a crypt beneath resembling the place 
 where you now stand. In this crypt, however," 
 he proceeded with slow, gentle emphasis, "there 
 are small cells enclosed in stone walls of unusual 
 thickness. The door of such a cell is of oak, and 
 also quite heavy. There is no window, save a 
 grating in the door. 
 
 " The church is tender, Mademoiselle, and nour 
 ishes her children like a mother so long as they are 
 penitent and obedient. For the rebellious and 
 hard-hearted, for those who defy their parents and 
 seek their own foolish will, there remains such a 
 refuge as Fontevrault can give. Childhood will
 
 52 
 
 not save you, Charlotte de Bourbon, nor rank, nor 
 tears. Your father has made known his will. 
 Either obedience or a quiet cell in Fontevrault, 
 where one does not die, but from which one does 
 not return." 
 
 "Oh, monptre!" 
 
 With a cry of anguish the child, pressed now too 
 hard for her endurance, drooped suddenly, and with 
 closing eyes and relaxing limbs sank upon the 
 mouldy floor of the crypt at the feet of Ruze. 
 
 Keeping his finger still upon her wrist to satisfy 
 himself that he had not gone too far, the priest 
 murmured, " Paiivre enfant, " with cold compassion, 
 and then resting his head against the pillar behind 
 him, tapped softly upon its stone surface. 
 
 Instantly Sister Cecile was at his side. She 
 stooped over the child, who lay as if dead. 
 
 "Leave her a little," said Ruze calmly. "She 
 will recover presently." 
 
 " How do matters stand ? " 
 
 " Wait a moment and see." 
 
 That moment of waiting beside the unconscious 
 child in the lurid glow of the single torch and the 
 dreadful hush of the crypt never faded from the 
 memory of Sister Cecile. 
 
 When, finally, Charlotte opened her eyes, she 
 was lifted gently and supported in the arms of the 
 nun. As the color slowly returned to her lips and 
 the light to her eyes the sense of what had passed 
 came again to her mind, and she looked directly 
 into the face of Pere Ruze with a long look, as of 
 one greatly astonished. Several moments passed 
 before she could speak. Then she said imperiously : 
 
 " I wish to leave this place now. It is enough." 
 
 " And what does Mademoiselle answer to the 
 command of her father ? '' asked the priest with 
 unrelenting face. 
 
 " You may say to him that I will allow them to 
 make me Abbess of Jouarre."
 
 53 
 
 Then, after brief pause, she added, drawing away 
 from the supporting arms of Cecile Crue and lifting 
 her head with a sorrowful loftiness infinitely pa 
 thetic : " You may say to him that I am no longer 
 a child."
 
 VII 
 
 CROSS AND STAFF 
 
 ON the seventeenth day of March, in the year 
 of grace 1559, trie convent bells of Jouarre 
 rang out a joyful and triumphant peal. 
 Royal banners streamed in the morning sun from 
 every tower and turret, and the deep tones of the 
 organ poured from the open west door of the Sainte 
 Chapelle. 
 
 From the neighboring village and from the crofts 
 and manors of La Brie came peasants, knights, and 
 tradesfolk, all in holiday garb, and made gala pro 
 cession through the abbey gates and across the 
 great green courtyard, streaming into the church. 
 For to-day, with cross and chrism, with solemn sac 
 rifice and exultant Te Deum, the ancient monastery 
 is to receive and consecrate as its mother superieure 
 a princess of the blood, a fair lily-maid of the house 
 of Bourbon. 
 
 So let the banners wave, the trumpets blow, the 
 organ music roll resounding ! Let the royal virgin 
 receive such welcome as befits her, and let the holy 
 women of Jouarre bow in reverence before their 
 head ! 
 
 Crowding hard upon each other, even to the 
 doors, the spectators, gentle and simple, saw the 
 solemn procession of priests enter the choir, saw 
 the bishop's chair filled, not by monseigneur of 
 Meaux, but by Pere Ruze, bishop not yet, but soon 
 to be, and noted that he was of presence serene and 
 august, heard the deep voice behind the altar sing : 
 
 Prudentes virgines, aptate vestras lampades, 
 Ecce, Sponsus venit, exite obviam ei! 
 
 54
 
 55 
 
 saw then the ranks of nuns pass down the sanc 
 tuary, responding in sweet strains of holy con 
 fidence, 
 
 Unto the hills lift I up mine eyes 
 From whence cometh my help ; 
 
 saw not the Lady Louise de Long-Vic, but in her 
 place Madame du Paraclete, brought hither from her 
 famous convent at Nogent, the see of Jouarre hav 
 ing been declared vacant. 
 
 With candles in their hands, a company of youth 
 ful postulantes, among them Jeanne de Mousson 
 and Jeannette Vassetz, pass presently before his 
 reverence, and with ceremonial full sweet and 
 solemn, make their profession. They receive the 
 black robes and veils of the order, still glistening 
 with the holy drops from the silver benitier, while 
 the nuns in plaintive voices are singing, "Adieu 
 du tMonde." 
 
 But who is this that comes ? A murmur like a 
 wave of ruth and tenderness sweeps through the 
 curious multitude. 
 
 Led by the mistress of the novices, whose face 
 alone is cold and stern, with steps that falter, 
 comes a forlorn and fragile child, robed in deepest 
 black. A white veil falls from her head ; beneath 
 it her face shows wan and woe-stricken. She 
 kneels at the feet of Pere Ruze and trembles visibly 
 so to kneel. A voice then begs his reverence, if it 
 seem good in his eyes, to receive and to bless this 
 young virgin and to unite her in spiritual union to 
 Christ, and to grant his benediction upon her ex 
 altation to the holy headship of this order. 
 
 The deep, sonorous voice of Pere Ruze inquires if 
 then the priest so speaking believes this young vir 
 gin worthy. Receiving the answer, "Yes," he 
 proceeds to put to her the solemn questions as to 
 her sincerity and freedom in this action and her full 
 comprehension of the rules of the order.
 
 56 
 
 Does the child reply ? Some who are very near 
 her see tears fast falling as bright as the drops of 
 holy water, but they hear no voice. 
 
 Nevertheless, the stately ritual proceeds. The 
 Veni Creator is sung with thrilling power and the 
 office of high mass is celebrated with much mag 
 nificence. Pere Ruze turns now in full pontificals 
 to administer to the abbess-elect before all others 
 the sacred host. Again she is led to the altar rail 
 by Sister Cecile, and this time, as she kneels, a 
 candle is held in one small, trembling hand, and 
 a white paper in the other, from which she is to 
 read before the assembly. This paper contains the 
 formula, written and signed by herself, of the 
 irrevocable vows which Charlotte de Bourbon, 
 daughter of Louis de Bourbon and Jacqueline de 
 Long-Vic, shall now, of her own free will and intent, 
 make and pronounce. 
 
 All ears are strained to catch a syllable of those 
 vows coming from the white and quivering lips, but 
 not even the nuns who are nearest her can be sure 
 that they have heard a word. 
 
 And yet it is a vow of singular and unprecedented 
 mildness, containing, so those who know say after 
 ward, 'paroles donees effort legeres." 
 
 A murmur goes about the chapel. The scene is 
 not altogether of a sort to suit the mood of the 
 people. Is this a valid consecration ? Is it made 
 with the free will of the postulante ? Even Pere 
 Ruze hesitates an instant with an irrepressible 
 frown, but the point of danger is quickly covered. 
 
 Madame du Paraclete, acting as abbess, has ad 
 vanced with the long black veil, the abbatial ring, 
 and the pectoral cross and staff. Sister Cecile 
 Crue has taken the folded paper, with its counter 
 feit vows, from the hand of the child, to deliver to 
 the priest, and who but old Radegonde sees that 
 she dexterously slips it into her own bosom and sub 
 stitutes for it another paper ? On this are written
 
 57 
 
 the full vows of the order, unshaded and unsoftened 
 in their stern import, vows which the unconscious 
 child has never seen but which she has thus taken 
 upon herself. 
 
 Veil and ring, cross and crozier, are now duly 
 blessed and sprinkled at the hands of Pere Ruze 
 and given then to Madame du Paraclete. By her, in 
 turn, they are bestowed upon the child-abbess with 
 words of solemn investiture, who turns then with 
 mechanical obedience at the bidding of the priest 
 to face the eager throng. For a moment all behold 
 the childish shape, wrapped now by the clinging 
 folds of the black veil. Against her breast she 
 presses the great abbatial cross in that right hand 
 on which the massive ring weighs all too heavily. 
 The childish face, in the midst of all this pomp of 
 symbol, is white like that of death. The eyes are 
 lifted now ; they are wide and blue and innocent, 
 but with a look tragic and heart-rending. It is a 
 look that sees nothing ! 
 
 Again the music thunders forth ; the Te Deum, 
 with full organ and trumpet, makes the air vibrant 
 through all the precincts of the abbey. The child 
 is seated now in the seat of the Abbess of Jouarre. 
 
 But the cross and staff are quickly laid aside, 
 and the Abbess of Jouarre, a child in her nurse's 
 arms, is carried, as the joyous bells ring the people 
 out into the sunlight again, and is laid in a narrow 
 bed in old Radegonde's cell. So she lies with wide- 
 open but unseeing eyes and the murmurs of de 
 lirium incoherent and broken on her dry lips. It is 
 so that the mistress of the novices finds her, but 
 she finds also Radegonde barring the entrance to 
 the place, Radegonde, with a stern and wrathful 
 light in her dim old eyes, saying : 
 
 "You have had your way with her, Cecile Crue ! 
 Now it is my turn. If she lives, it will be because 
 I shall love her back to life. If she dies, it will be 
 only I who will weep over her."
 
 VIII 
 LITTLE SAINT SILENCE 
 
 THE court was at Vincennes. Henri II. had illus 
 trious guests to entertain and a great hunt in 
 the famous forest was to be given in their 
 honor. 
 
 The guests of France were also her hostages. 
 
 The war against the aggressions of the great em 
 peror, Charles V., which for eight years had ravaged 
 the borders of France and Flanders had in April been 
 brought to a conclusion. 
 
 Charles, from his retirement in the monastery of 
 St. Yuste, in Spain, had watched with irrepressible 
 eagerness the progress of that contest which he had 
 so reluctantly left for his son Philip to carry on. 
 But the old emperor watched no more. In Septem 
 ber the programme of death which with his instinct 
 for the spectacular he had so often rehearsed had 
 taken place in stern reality, and the last world-em 
 peror had left forever that motley stage on which 
 his part was played out. 
 
 The success of Philip's arms had been barren of 
 permanent results, and had brought but little glow 
 of pride or lust for further military glory to his 
 sombre spirit. Another and a sterner war was in 
 his thought. France too was facing a great internal 
 upheaval and was glad to draw her armies back 
 into her own domain. 
 
 At Cateau-Cambresis, on the third day of April, 
 1559, the kings of France and of Spain annulled the 
 results of the long struggle and made mutual resto 
 ration of their conquests on the frontiers of Flanders 
 and of Italy. 
 58
 
 59 
 
 A new era in the history of Europe opened that 
 day, for in the inglorious treaty which closed a futile 
 war lay, scarcely concealed, the outlines of that 
 monstrous conspiracy against the rights of man and 
 the spirit of the age for which Philip and Henri 
 gladly laid aside all other purposes. 
 
 What better than a marriage between the houses 
 of their Catholic and very Christian majesties could 
 seal these acts of diplomacy ? Philip, thirty-two 
 and already twice married was at the moment, and 
 most opportunely it appeared, himself marriageable. 
 Left a widower four months before, he had promptly 
 offered his hand to Elizabeth of England, step-sister 
 and rival of his late bitter and suspicious spouse, 
 Mary Tudor, but having been rejected, he was still 
 free. The eldest daughter of Henri II., Isabella of 
 Valois, was now a girl of fourteen. She had, it is 
 true, been betrothed to Don Carlos, son of Philip, 
 but the first compact was speedily canceled and a 
 fresh one effected with the king of Spain himself as 
 bridegroom elect. The festivities attending the 
 marriage promptly to follow were already beginning, 
 for it was now June. 
 
 From Cambresis the French king had brought 
 back to Paris as hostages four noblemen high in 
 the service of Spain, who were to remain at his court 
 for a time as pledges for the execution of the new 
 treaty. 
 
 Well pleased with the results of the long confer 
 ence, Henri showed his satisfaction by lavishing his 
 hospitality upon his guests in royal measure. Fe"tes 
 and revelries had succeeded each other in bewil 
 dering profusion at the palace of the Louvre, and 
 to vary the gayety by sport of a hardier sort, the 
 court had now made excursion to the ancient 
 chateau of Vincennes for a season of hunting in 
 the famous forest. 
 
 The great courtyard of the castle was alive, 
 therefore, on this bright June morning with a bril-
 
 6o 
 
 liant company gathered to participate in the hunt 
 or to watch the departure. The pavement re 
 sounded beneath the clatter of hoofs of the horses 
 led by the bit by their masters' grooms, while the 
 hounds in leash barking impatiently, the cracking 
 of whips, the shrill whistles of the pages, and the 
 loud and merry voices of the pleasure-seekers filled 
 the air with tumult. 
 
 Already mounted upon a blooded chestnut, which 
 curvetted proudly with arched neck and tossing 
 mane, displaying her superb horsemanship to ad 
 vantage, appeared the Duchesse de Valentinois, 
 better known as Diane de Poitiers. 
 
 Her still brilliant beauty and the magnificence of 
 her figure, invulnerable it seemed to the weapons 
 of time, still carried every eye to follow all her 
 looks and motions. In her close black hunting 
 dress, relieved only by facings of white and a white 
 panache in the small black velvet toque, looking 
 the very embodiment of the spirit of the chase, 
 Diane swept at a gallop around the court. Reining 
 up her hunter before the stone balustrade which 
 capped the terrace, she saluted a lady in violet 
 velvet who stood there with a small group of at 
 tendants and who held a little girl by the hand. 
 
 Beside her and bending to hear her speak, a tall, 
 spare man of military bearing was standing, a man 
 with a stern, cadaverous face, a beak nose, deep- 
 set black eyes under a high and brazen forehead, 
 and a long beard flowing over the collar of the 
 Fleece which adorned his dark, fur-trimmed doublet. 
 
 The lady, whose face was of the fineness as well 
 as of the tint of ivory, a face which in its smooth 
 impassiveness was a mask to whatever emotions 
 might fill her mind, replied to the salutation of 
 Diane in a low voice and with peculiar sweetness 
 in her smile. 
 
 "You never were lovelier, dear duchesse, even 
 in your youth," she said with an air of artless im-
 
 6i 
 
 pulsiveness. "Is it not true, monsieur, that Mad 
 ame de Valentinois is the brightest ornament of this 
 or any court in Europe ? " and she turned with 
 smiling appeal to the dark man beside her. He 
 was one of the hostages from Spain, and one of the 
 greatest generals of his time, being none other than 
 the renowned Ferdinando Alvarez de Toledo, better 
 known as Alva. He bowed profoundly at this chal 
 lenge, but his gravity did not relax, and his eyes 
 rested upon the brilliant face of Diane with cold 
 neutrality. 
 
 "What your majesty says may surely not be 
 disputed," he said in a dull and half-reluctant voice, 
 as if despising the gallantry into which he was 
 forced ; " but where the queen of France can be 
 seen men can hardly have eyes for others, however 
 fair." 
 
 Diane flashed a smile of insolent amusement into 
 the bronzed face of the unresponsive warrior, and 
 then sat in her saddle noting for an instant, although 
 with undisguised indifference, the movements of the 
 queen. Catharine de Medici bent now with an 
 action of graceful and becoming modesty and as if 
 to hide a confusion at the grim flattery of Alva 
 which she was far from feeling, and lifting in her 
 arms the little Princess Marguerite placed her upon 
 the broad flat stone of the parapet. The child was 
 of piquant loveliness, and sat looking out at the 
 lively scene before her, her dark locks stirred by 
 the sweet breath of the June morning. Her two 
 brothers, the Due d' Orleans and the Due d' Anjou, 
 boys of seven and eight years, were caracolling 
 around the courtyard mounted on small but spirited 
 horses, and the child laughed aloud and clapped her 
 hands as they saluted her in passing with noisy 
 banter and boyish show of daring. 
 
 " And where are your confreres this morning, 
 monsieur ? " Catharine now asked of the Spanish 
 general.
 
 62 
 
 " They are coming hither even now, madame," 
 was the reply, "or rather Egmont and the Duke 
 of Aerschot are approaching. I have not seen the 
 prince this morning." 
 
 At this moment the two Flemish grandees, the 
 gallant hero of Gravelines, Lamoral of Egmont, 
 and the Lord of Aerschot, crossing the pavement 
 below the terrace, advanced to the parapet, and, 
 uncovering, paid their devoirs to the queen and her 
 ladies. Both gayly kissed the tiny hand of the little 
 Marguerite, who at once began to coquette with 
 Egmont, to whom she was instinctively attracted, 
 and who received the favor of the royal child with 
 merry and charming deference. 
 
 His Spanish colleague, Alva, watched this dally 
 ing the while with a curiously bitter severity, 
 augmenting the harshness of his face. 
 
 "We were saying, messieurs," said Catharine 
 presently, "that we have not this morning seen 
 your brother in this hard imprisonment to which 
 your lord and mine have condemned you. Is he 
 then not to join the hunt to-day ? " 
 
 " Madame," said Egmont, looking up from a favor 
 he was dexterously weaving of some bits of riband 
 which little Marguerite had given him and bowing 
 with courtly grace, "if it please your majesty, the 
 prince has gone to mass this morning, if I have been 
 rightly informed." 
 
 "Morbleu!" cried Diane de Poitiers, lightly 
 laughing, " who would have expected so great de 
 votion from Monseigneur of Orange ! It was but 
 last night, moreover, that he came hither, and one 
 would have said he had chance enough for masses 
 in Paris." 
 
 "By my faith, Madame de Valentinois," and 
 Egmont turned gayly to Diane, "I doubt greatly 
 whether the prince went so much for the sake of 
 the mass as for the chance to look at the new win 
 dow of Maitre Cousin, that so he could gaze un-
 
 63 
 
 vexed and unhindered at the charms of its most 
 glorious figure/' 
 
 Although the notorious Diane was the central 
 personage in the mythological frescoes and can 
 vasses of the French Renaissance, and had been 
 already immortalized as the goddess Diana in the 
 statue of Jean Goujon, it was still matter for sur 
 prise and protest, even in the dissolute court of 
 Henri II., when her figure wholly nude, her golden 
 hair encircled by a blue riband, had been intro 
 duced into the scene of the Last Judgment in the 
 new window of the apse of the chapel at Vincennes. 
 Hence it was that the glance of bold flattery which 
 accompanied these words of the Flemish grandee 
 called a slight flush to the cheek of the duchesse. 
 Her eyes rested upon Egmont with a curious ex 
 pression, at once imperious and caressing, and she 
 was about to make some deprecating remark when 
 from the wide-open door of the chateau behind the 
 company two persons advanced, who at once drew 
 all eyes to themselves, being no less than the heir- 
 apparent to the throne of France and his young 
 wife of a year. A tall, slender boy of sixteen, 
 Francois, known at this period of his life as the 
 king-dauphin, was of a graceful, negligent carriage, 
 a figure rather effeminate than manly, and a coun 
 tenance pallid and heavy-eyed. By the hand he 
 was leading his wife, Mary, " her most serene little 
 highness," the Queen of Scotland, whose lustrous 
 beauty for a moment startled the group on the ter 
 race to wondering silence. 
 
 As she approached with buoyant step Mary's 
 fresh rose bloom made the olive Italian face of 
 Catharine de Medici appear strangely worn and 
 sallow. Even the peerless Diane did not care to 
 put her still powerful charms into immediate com 
 parison with those of Mary in this strong light of 
 the morning and so, without further dalliance, she 
 galloped on toward the great gate of the donjon
 
 6 4 
 
 tower. A gentleman in rich but plain hunting cos 
 tume, who was riding in at the moment, instantly 
 dismounted and kissed her hand with affectionate 
 gallantry. This gentleman was no less than the 
 king of France, Henri of Valois, whom for twenty 
 years the unscrupulous duchesse had held in the 
 chains of an almost insane infatuation. 
 
 Catharine de Medici wisely ignoring the further 
 movements of the formidable Diane, with grace 
 ful dignity proceeded to present the Duke of Alva 
 and the Flemish noblemen to Francois and Mary. 
 The latter had arrived at Vincennes the day before, 
 coming directly from Villers-Cotterets, where they 
 lived in the retirement prescribed by the etiquette 
 of the royal family for the king- and queen-dauphin 
 until called to the throne. On occasions of special 
 festivity it was, however, permitted for them to ap 
 pear at court and the approaching marriage of their 
 sister to the king of Spain had at this time given 
 ample warrant for their presence. 
 
 "You are not of the hunting party to-day, my 
 son ? " said the queen, looking with evident con 
 cern at the lack-lustre face of Francois. " That is 
 deprivation something severe, I fear, for our daugh 
 ter." The last words were spoken with a negligent 
 coldness which she scarcely attempted to conceal, 
 and an indifferent glance at the young wife, whose 
 ardent love for all sports and athletic exercise was 
 well known in the Valois family. 
 
 " Thanks, madame," said Mary in a clear, bell- 
 like voice, in which a thrill of conscious power and 
 gladness seemed to vibrate, " monsieur is slightly 
 indisposed, and I do not myself find the hunt amus 
 ing when he is not among the rest." 
 
 As Mary spoke thus with an arch and roguish 
 look aside into the face of her boy-husband, she 
 was so wholly bewitching in spite of a faint trace of 
 insolence which accompanied her words that even 
 the hard face of Alva relaxed into a reluctant smile.
 
 65 
 
 Catharine, however, did not apparently yield to the 
 influence of her daughter-in-law's charms, divining 
 but too clearly, with the sharpened instinct of long 
 and bitter experience, that full soon they might be 
 arrayed in potent rivalry against herself. 
 
 Never yet in the twenty-five years which had 
 passed since as a girl of fifteen Catharine had rid 
 den into France, the bride elect of the Due d'Or- 
 leans, had she, as princess or as queen, been per 
 mitted to rule in her rightful realm. 
 
 Completely eclipsed by the Duchesse de Valen- 
 tinois, to whom she was not even a rival, the devo 
 tion of Henri to his mistress had never yielded for 
 an hour to the subtle and persistent attacks of the 
 wife. A queen without a following, without influ 
 ence, and since the death of her father-in-law, 
 Francois I., without the affection even of her imme 
 diate family ; with the deepest sources of her life 
 embittered by the ceaseless and terrible struggle 
 with Diane, whom she valiantly professed to love, 
 Catharine could only bide her time. But a slight 
 knowledge of human nature would suffice to fore 
 tell that if the pent-up bitterness of the heart should 
 find a vent, if the devouring lust for power of the 
 cruel will be allowed to work freely, there would 
 follow deeds such as honest men fear to mention, 
 deeds conformable to the Italian craft and the 
 wholly unscrupulous nature of the woman. 
 
 As if to divert the eyes of the cavaliers from the 
 person of the Queen of Scots Catharine exclaimed, 
 looking down the courtyard : 
 
 "Ah, at last the knight faineant ! My lord of 
 Orange appears to have finished his devotions and 
 to prepare for the day's pastime." 
 
 All eyes were now directed to the figure of a 
 cavalier who had newly appeared upon the scene, 
 and who had stopped for a moment to speak with 
 the groom who was leading a magnificent black 
 hunter up and down. 
 
 E
 
 66 
 
 This cavalier now turned, perceiving the group of 
 ladies upon the terrace, and hastened to greet them. 
 As she noted his approach Catharine said in a low 
 voice to the first lady in waiting : 
 
 "Surely, Montpensier, this is the goodliest gen 
 tleman in the king's company." 
 
 The lady replied : 
 
 " Un preux chevalier, ce Prince d' Orange," and 
 her face, which hitherto had borne a sad and anxious 
 expression, brightened perceptibly. 
 
 The Prince of Orange, as he now hastened to do 
 homage to Catharine, was seen by all to be a young 
 man of marked nobility of mien, clean-limbed, well- 
 knit, and graceful. Younger by many years than 
 his fellow-hostages, slender and even boyish, with 
 something of youthful bloom still on his cheeks, he 
 was imposing withal by reason of the impress of 
 profound and penetrating intellect dwelling in each 
 line of his face. 
 
 As he removed his cap of black velvet the sun 
 shone full upon the bright brown hair, cut close to 
 the head, upon the clear brune skin, the dark gentle 
 eyes, the sensitive well-chiseled lips. The prince 
 was dressed in a black velvet doublet and trunk 
 hose and black silk stockings and wore no decora 
 tions save the insignia of the Fleece upon his breast, 
 while his black cap was without panache or other 
 decoration. In his left hand he chanced to be car 
 rying a single white rose. With the right hand, as 
 he dropped upon one knee, he lifted the hand of the 
 French queen to his lips ; then rising, responded 
 with a manner of singular and captivating charm to 
 the salutations which were rained upon him from 
 the brilliant group of lords and ladies. 
 
 The face of the prince which had at first worn a 
 shade of melancholy, natural in view of the recent 
 death of his young wife and itself a distinction in 
 that company, was transformed as he entered into 
 their airy converse, and he displayed in high degree
 
 6 7 
 
 the free and debonair complaisance of the accom 
 plished courtier, the facile ease of the man who 
 "carries a talisman under his tongue." Gay and 
 gracious, proud yet delicately deferential, the young 
 knight, at this time the prime favorite of fortune, 
 seemed to possess and unconsciously to exert that 
 mysterious magic of personal ascendency to which 
 all who met him irresistibly yielded. 
 
 Turning to the Duke of Alva the Duchesse de 
 Montpensier remarked aside : 
 
 " I have not seen his grace of Orange before. Is 
 it true that it is he whom the Emperor Charles 
 brought up as his own son ? " 
 
 "The same, madame," was the brief reply. 
 
 " The emperor has shown himself a judge of 
 men," rejoined the lady. "And he, like Philip, is 
 a widower, n'est-ce pas? " 
 
 "Yes, madame." 
 
 " A pity such a young and gallant prince could not 
 have been the bridegroom for our Lady Isabella," 
 said the duchesse regretfully, " rather than his fos 
 ter-brother, his majesty of Spain, whom, saving your 
 presence, monsieur le Due, we French women con 
 sider a somewhat sombre and icy gentleman and a 
 melancholy husband for our pretty little princess." 
 
 Without waiting for a reply, which indeed the 
 general did not seem disposed to give, the duchesse 
 turned again to hear what the queen-dauphin and 
 her ladies were saying to the prince. 
 
 " Then after all it was not the mass which kept 
 monsieur ? " 
 
 " No, madame," was the reply ; " I cannot claim 
 to have visited the chapel this morning." 
 
 " Ah, then monsieur has been at some mysterious 
 tryst with one of our demoiselles ! And it is from 
 some fair hand that he has received the lovely rose 
 he guards so carefully. Confess now, and tell us 
 the name of the fortunate lady ! " 
 
 For answer the prince deliberately proceeded to
 
 68 
 
 fasten the flower with a small jeweled brooch into 
 his cap, which he then waved to the vivacious 
 maiden with a gesture of gallant grace, but without 
 a word. 
 
 " Oh, for shame, Adelaide," cried the Queen of 
 Scots to her young court lady. "Are you then 
 ignorant of flower-language ? Have you forgotten 
 that the rose is the symbol for silence ? " 
 
 A shrill musical blast upon a silver horn rang at 
 that moment upon their ears. The king galloped 
 up to the terrace with a courteous greeting to the 
 ladies and a call to horse to the gentlemen. 
 
 " What then really is the mystery of your white 
 rose, Orange ? " 
 
 It was Egmont who asked the question half an 
 hour later as the two rode side by side through the 
 deep shade of the forest, skirting the Lac Dumesnil. 
 Despite the nearly dozen years disparity in their 
 ages these rival Flemish princes were close friends 
 and comrades-at-arms. 
 
 " By our Lady, Egmont, it is in truth a mystery," 
 returned Orange, whose face had now won back 
 the thoughtful expression habitual to it in repose. 
 " It may even be that you can give me some en 
 lightenment." 
 
 " Gladly will I if I may ; say on," said Egmont. 
 
 " At the time when you supposed me to have 
 gone to mass," said the prince, "I had, in fact, 
 withdrawn rather for the chance to stroll in the 
 peace of this rare morning through the garden 
 walks and as far as might be from the shadow of 
 yon gloomy chateau, which, I confess, seems to me 
 more like a prison than a palace. I turned down a 
 long, shaded lane, between the high, clipped 
 hedges of yew which rose above my head, and was 
 pacing forward, my eyes, I believe, downcast, my 
 thoughts certainly far away in Breda with my little 
 motherless children, when I caught sight of a fig-
 
 ure at some distance before me which startled my 
 attention. Down the long green lane, among the 
 rows of the white lilies growing tall below the 
 hedge, stood the form of a child, or rather, perhaps, 
 I should say of a very young maid, as pure and as 
 virginal as the lilies. She was clothed from head 
 to foot in a shining white garment, straight and 
 flowing, with a veil of lightest gauze surrounding 
 her like a pale nimbus. Her head was lifted, the 
 hair which showed about her temples was of the 
 color of gold, her face was, as it were, transparent 
 and of a most affecting whiteness, and her eyes, 
 blue and innocent as an angel's, were lifted, look 
 ing up beyond the dark line of the yews, and from 
 them down her cheeks tears were fairly streaming. 
 I think she did not know that she thus wept ; I 
 perceived that she had not heard my step ap? 
 proaching. However, I could not choose but go on. 
 Following her eyes I gained this much, that it was 
 the flight of a lark which was soaring far up into 
 the sky which she was so intently watching. 
 
 " As I approached her this creature, more like a 
 vision than a maiden of flesh and blood, seeing me, 
 dashed the tears off her face with a swift motion 
 and fixed upon me the gaze of her large, blue 
 eyes, with a look the saddest yet the most search 
 ing that I have ever known. 
 
 " Egmont," and the prince showed in the strong 
 emphasis and the seriousness of his tone that he 
 had been profoundly moved, "if you have ever 
 seen a child weep, not from childish vexation, from 
 fear or from pain, but from deep, unspoken sorrow, 
 you will know the strange pang with which I met 
 this look. It was a look as of an angel shut out of 
 heaven who will not murmur nor upbraid ; a look 
 of utter, hopeless, but most patient sorrow, and on 
 the face of a child who ought to know nothing of 
 life yet but its joy and sunshine." 
 
 " Did you speak to her ? " asked the count.
 
 70 
 
 " I asked her, in good sooth, if I might serve or 
 help her and pledged myself so to do in faith and 
 honor if she would tell me her trouble. At first she 
 made no answer. Near her now, I had a chance 
 to note the fineness of her person, the grace of her 
 bearing, the traces of sore illness which had left 
 her face so sadly wan and transparent, the fact 
 that on her breast she wore a large cross of rarely 
 fine workmanship, and that it was a clasp of Bour 
 bon lilies in gold which fastened her girdle." 
 
 " All these signs bid fair to tell a tale of passing 
 significance." 
 
 " Surely. There was much to arouse a peculiar 
 curiosity and reverence, for if ever I saw a holy 
 and yet most unhappy child it was she. When I 
 pressed her to speak she said at last, with no con 
 fusion, nor bashfulness, as might have been with 
 her years, that her troubles could not be told but 
 to increase them, and that she must learn silence, 
 and so begged me to excuse her and let her go her 
 way. 1 stood aside then, and passing me she 
 smiled, and by my faith her smile did move me yet 
 more deeply than her tears, so forlorn and so sweet 
 was it. She had in her hand two or three of these 
 June roses, and after she had passed me she 
 stepped back and quite timidly, and yet in a some 
 thing stately fashion, bestowed this one upon me, 
 but did not speak. Then said I, ' Farewell, little 
 Saint Silence,' and waved my hand, the rose in it, 
 whereupon she said softly, 'Au revoir, monsieur,' 
 and so sped swiftly and gliding like a shining 
 shadow down the alley." 
 
 "In truth a very curious history," said Egmont 
 as the prince concluded his narration, and they rode 
 on for a little space in silence. Then presently he 
 added : 
 
 "The Due de Montpensier is riding toward us; 
 I know him by his height and by his white horse. 
 What say you, shall 1 inquire of him concerning
 
 71 
 
 this mysterious little maid ? He knows all the fam 
 ilies who consort with the court and could surely 
 give us cognizance. I am fain to think that this 
 seemingly forsaken child, by the lilies at her belt 
 and the bearing you describe, may even be a prin 
 cess of the blood. What say you, shall we inquire 
 cf Montpensier ? " 
 
 "Nay, Lamoral," said Orange quickly, "least 
 of all of him. The man is little to my mind. 
 Something harsh, metallic, and cruel, even in his 
 most flattering words and ways, grates upon my 
 spirit. Ask nothing of him nor of any man. In 
 the end 1 choose rather to keep the vision in its 
 present semblance in my memory. What can it 
 profit to know more concerning it ? " 
 
 " That shall be as you say," said his friend, and 
 the Due de Montpensier joining them they put 
 their horses to the gallop, making speed to join the 
 royal party. 
 
 When the sun of that June day was sinking in 
 the west, the prince rode homeward from the hunt, 
 and beside him and alone in the darkening glades 
 of the forest rode the king of France. Then and 
 there in free and lordly confidence his majesty dis 
 coursed to the young prince, his guest and hostage, 
 on the all-controlling purpose for which himself and 
 the king of Spain had closed their long warfare. It 
 was then that the prince heard proposed as a prac 
 tical measure, and one shortly to be executed in 
 his own country, that fateful dogma of the sixteenth 
 century, " To exterminate heresy it is only necessary to 
 exterminate heretics." 
 
 With ardor Henri dwelt upon the searching work 
 already begun in Spain by the first auto-da-fe of 
 Valladolid a few weeks previously and which to his 
 sure knowledge his royal son and brother Philip 
 would now prosecute without fear or favor until 
 the " accursed vermin " were purged from the land
 
 72 
 
 forever. The same measures were to be employed 
 in the Netherlands by means of the magnificent 
 machinery of the Inquisition set in motion and sus 
 tained by the Spanish army still quartered there. 
 In his own realm the king admitted the problem 
 was a more difficult one, since some of the chief 
 men in his kingdom and even some princes of the 
 blood had declared for the new religion. But "he 
 hoped by the grace of God and the good under 
 standing that he had with his new son, the king of 
 Spain, that he would soon master them." 
 
 Thus his Very Christian Majesty, taking for 
 granted in hearty and undoubted confidence that 
 this right royal plot was already in its general out 
 line familiar to a prince who was the favorite of 
 the father of Philip, and was the most powerful 
 Catholic prince of the Low Countries. 
 
 Neither by word nor look, breath nor motion, did 
 the prince betray the consternation with which he 
 was filled by the revelation of a plot wholly un 
 dreamed of by him until that hour. 
 
 Perchance the king observed that his companion 
 grew somewhat silent and did not discuss with en 
 thusiasm the details of that "excellent purpose," 
 which was presently to convulse Europe from one 
 end to the other. Certain, however, is it that not 
 for one moment did his majesty of France dream 
 that the man beside him in his grave, attentive 
 courtesy, being "deeply moved with pity for all 
 the worthy people who were thus devoted to 
 slaughter, and for the country to which he owed so 
 much, wherein they designed to introduce an In 
 quisition worse and more cruel than that of Spain," 
 in that brief hour received the impulse which, 
 slowly maturing, was destined to make of him in 
 after years the champion of his people and of the 
 spiritual liberties of all Christendom. 
 
 Soon king and prince with all the brilliant caval 
 cade returning from the forest, mingled in a rout of
 
 73 
 
 royalty and nobility in the salon of the gloomy 
 chateau and questions of kingcraft were for the time 
 apparently forgotten. 
 
 A month from that day the hostages had returned 
 to their own country ; Catharine de Medici no lon 
 ger queen, but queen-mother, had become the 
 mother-in-law of Philip of Spain ; Diane de Poitiers, 
 whose proud device had been, "I have conquered 
 the All-conqueror," had been scornfully dismissed 
 from the court of France ; Frangois of Valois and 
 his young Scottish wife were king and queen of 
 France, for a greater than Diane had conquered 
 and Henri II. was dead, dead of a chance sword- 
 thrust in a tournament. 
 
 Meanwhile and many days ere this, torn again 
 from a mother's yearning love, the lonely child- 
 abbess, the "little Saint Silence" had returned 
 to her nuns of Jouarre.
 
 IX 
 
 THE WHITE ABBESS 
 
 AGAIN the scene is the cloister garth at the 
 Abbey of Jouarre, and on a summer after 
 noon in the year 1565, we find the three 
 maidens, Charlotte de Bourbon, and with her the 
 two Jeannes, sitting as in an earlier time, upon the 
 old stone seat of Our Lady's Arbor. 
 
 The arbor is unchanged. The leaves of laurel 
 and palm are still lustrous in the sunlight and give 
 their sombre, enclosing shade ; the little Virgin in 
 the center of the circle is stony and prim as of old ; 
 the massive seat still surrounds the figure un 
 altered save for the gradual encroachment over 
 its surface of the fine gray lichens. But while the 
 scene remains the same, the three who again en 
 liven its cold severity are no longer the chattering 
 insouciante little girls who once came hither, but 
 three full-grown maidens. 
 
 The six years which have elapsed have witnessed 
 the death of Francois II. His fourteen-year-old 
 brother, Charles IX., is now king of France, and, 
 as regent of France, Catharine de Medici has the 
 long-coveted power at last in her hands. The first 
 religious war has been fought to a close and the 
 peace of Amboise has run through two years of its 
 fitful and uneasy course. 
 
 The Abbess of Jouarre at eighteen is tall and fair 
 and stately, clothed to-day according to the habit 
 which she adopted on first assuming her office, 
 wholly in white. Her robe and coif, veil, and 
 ornaments are all of the prescribed monastic cut 
 and character, but like the Cistercians, she prefers 
 74
 
 75 
 
 white to black, and this preference has met with 
 no opposition in the convent, it being obviously 
 suited to her years, and a distinction which her 
 princely rank suggests. As the young abbess 
 bends over her embroidery frame her face and 
 figure in their bloom and symmetry show that the 
 years have brought reconcilement and surcease of 
 the agonies to which her childhood was subject. 
 No longer held under strict discipline and kept in 
 the narrow and rigid limits of those early years, 
 firmness, health, and elastic grace have succeeded 
 to the earlier piteous pallor and weakness. Never 
 theless, the expression of the Bourbon princess is 
 characterized by a peculiar languor, the look of one 
 who does not despair, but who no longer hopes, a 
 look which gives a mysterious and pathetic charm 
 to her youthful beauty. 
 
 Bending over the same frame, her head almost 
 touching that of Charlotte, is Jeannette, clad now, 
 as is also Jeanne de Mousson, in the full conven 
 tual robes of the order, the soft, clinging black 
 garments, the clear white linen caps, from which 
 flow the black veils, concealing their youthful grace 
 of outline. But despite this melancholy habit, the 
 two Jeanneshave little of the aspect of cold, super 
 imposed quietude of the conventional nun, but a 
 wholesome, sunny contentment. Jeannette is still 
 small, even insignificant in stature, and her face is 
 simple, honest, and affectionate as ever. Jeanne 
 de Mousson, who paces slowly back and forth read 
 ing aloud from a small missal, is as tall as Charlotte, 
 and has a figure which even under its jealously 
 concealing garments can be seen to be instinct with 
 spirit and lissome energy. Her clear, dark skin has 
 not, for all the years of her convent life, wholly lost 
 its vivid color ; her dark eyes flash with their old 
 luster and her lips have still thfir proud, impetuous 
 curves. 
 
 Old Radegonde could now be seen approaching
 
 76 
 
 the arbor as if on an errand of great importance. 
 Her brown, hardy face was but a trifle more 
 wrinkled by the six years which had elapsed since 
 the consecration as Abbess of Jouarre of her adored 
 princess. 
 
 It had been her loving devotion alone which had 
 brought the exhausted child through the fierce 
 fever which had followed that ordeal. This sea 
 son of suffering had knit the heart of the royal 
 child to the heart of the humble old woman for 
 ever. 
 
 As she crossed the cloister Radegonde was inter 
 cepted by the sub-prioress, whose slender figure 
 had been noiselessly passing and repassing beyond 
 the stone pillars for the past half-hour as if on 
 guard. To her keen questioning, Radegonde but 
 replied : 
 
 "I will tell you presently, Sister Cecile. My 
 word is first of all for my lady." 
 
 Radegonde's head now appearing in the nar 
 row gap between the laurel bushes which served 
 as entrance to the place, Charlotte de Bourbon 
 looked up from the parti-colored tapestry upon 
 which her fingers were employed, and smilingly 
 asked a quiet question : 
 
 " What is it, Radegonde ? " 
 
 " Madame, her majesty of Navarre, Madame 
 Jeanne d'Albret, has at this moment arrived at 
 Jouarre with a small escort, and awaits your high 
 ness even now in the hall." 
 
 A bright color rushed to Charlotte's cheeks and 
 an exclamation of joy broke from her lips, which 
 was echoed with delight by Jeanne de Mousson. 
 
 Charlotte dropped her embroidery frame into 
 Jeannette's lap, and taking the young Bearnaise 
 by the hand, the two hastened from the place with 
 Radegonde, Cecile Crue furtively following afar 
 off. A moment later they entered the beautiful 
 hall of the abbess and were clasped in the warm
 
 77 
 
 motherly embrace of the Queen of Navarre, who 
 stood there awaiting them with two ladies, who had 
 attended her on her journey hither. 
 
 Still bearing the potent charm of her young 
 womanhood, despite the perils and adversities of her 
 stormy life, the royal matron seemed by her pres 
 ence to exert instantaneously upon these mother 
 less and lonely girls a strangely energizing in 
 fluence. Noble in person and in dress and of an 
 unconscious majesty of demeanor, the beauty of 
 the daughter of Marguerite de Valois was far be 
 yond that of the conventional, artful beauties of 
 her day ; hers was a spirituelle, eloquent sweet 
 ness, the clear light of a puissant spirit and an in 
 vincible heart. Power, confidence, and freedom 
 seemed to flow from her and animate every one in 
 her presence. 
 
 Jeanne de Mousson showed the influence of the 
 queen, her godmother, yet more notably than did 
 the young abbess. She was transformed from the 
 grave monastic demureness which had character 
 ized her but now as she had paced the sober little 
 arbor. Her dark eyes fairly flamed with joy, her 
 cheeks glowed with excitement, she held herself 
 with new and spirited grace, and it was not diffi 
 cult to see in her a reflection of the heroic temper 
 and brilliant leadership of that queen who had been 
 called through all her girlhood, "the darling of 
 kings." 
 
 But the time was short and much must be said 
 between her majesty and the Abbess of Jouarre 
 alone. With quick perception, the young Bear- 
 naise proposed that she should accompany the 
 ladies-in-waiting to the guest house and establish 
 them there in the apartments set aside for guests 
 of their degree, while the young sup'erieure should 
 enjoy a tete-a-te'te with the queen. 
 
 The two were now accordingly left alone while 
 old Radegonde took her place outside the door of
 
 78 
 
 the great hall to keep watch and ward over the 
 privacy of her beloved lady. The sub-prioress had 
 disappeared. 
 
 The sumptuous room was unchanged since the 
 days of Louise de Long-Vic. The dim old picture 
 of Saint Theodehilde still looked down from the 
 great carved chimney ; the Cordova leather of the 
 walls gleamed richly in the afternoon light falling 
 through the deep-set windows ; the brave array of 
 plate upon the great buffet alone had suffered loss, 
 much of it belonging to Madame de Long-Vic, who 
 had removed it with her when she went to the 
 chateau which had become her residence. 
 
 Jeanne d'Albret now, taking Charlotte's hand 
 in hers, drew her to a seat in the embrasure of one 
 of the high lancet windows. 
 
 "Ah, my little cousin," she cried in her full, 
 resonant voice, " how lovely you have grown in 
 these four years since I have looked upon your 
 face ! " 
 
 They spoke long and tenderly then of the death 
 of Charlotte's mother, which had taken place four 
 years previously. The lonely girl had been sum 
 moned to her mother's death-bed only in time to 
 receive her parting words and her last fervent 
 prayer for herself. 
 
 With uncontrollable emotion Charlotte cried to 
 her friend : 
 
 "Oh, dear madame, can you, can any one, tell 
 me why it was that I was never permitted to be 
 alone and at liberty with my dearest mother, never 
 once in all those years ? I know that she loved 
 me." And with that sobs made speech impossible. 
 
 " Do you not know, then, that your mother for 
 many years before her death was Huguenot ? " 
 Jeanne d'Albret asked, looking earnestly into 
 Charlotte's face, which changed swiftly as she lis 
 tened. These were bold words. 
 
 A slight, hardly perceptible tremor, as of dismay,
 
 79 
 
 passed over the painted figure of the first abbess 
 of Jouarre in its frame above the chimney. 
 
 "No, madame," replied the young girl. "I 
 knew that she was wholly without the desire to 
 persecute the Huguenots which animates my father. 
 That she was herself Protestant I never knew. If 
 this be so it explains many mysteries ! " 
 
 " It explains, perchance, even more than you 
 think, my little Charlotte. It explains the undue 
 haste with which your investiture with your office 
 of abbess was precipitated. Your father feared 
 the influence of your mother upon your Catho 
 licity and sought, ere it was too late, to bind you 
 by irrevocable vows to fulfill his purpose." 
 
 Charlotte clasped her hands with a strangely 
 pathetic gesture of hopeless submission. 
 
 " Ah, madame," she breathed, as if her voice 
 was smothered by her sense of wrong, " I have 
 not been fairly dealt by ! " 
 
 " Most unfairly and cruelly have you been dealt 
 by, to my sure knowledge ! " said the queen, the 
 sense of outraged justice giving her face a noble 
 sternness. " I speak thus plainly because I know 
 how your faithful and loving heart has been torn 
 by questions concerning the seeming neglect and 
 coldness of your mother. Ah, my child, even you 
 will never know, no one not a mother can dream, 
 of the agonies which the noble Jacqueline suffered 
 concerning you, and which she could never permit 
 herself even to hint to you, since the result could 
 only add to the sorrows and rigors of your lot." 
 
 "Even when I was at court," said Charlotte, 
 her tears checked, her face still and white as if cut 
 from marble, "we were kept apart, or watched 
 while we were together, and many a time I have 
 gone away by myself alone to hide the tears which 
 I could not restrain for longing and the crying out 
 of my heart for the tenderness and confidence 
 which even in her presence were denied me."
 
 8o 
 
 " Oh, Charlotte, my little- maid, the blight and 
 burden of this cruel time have fallen over-heavily 
 on your young years ! God help us, for I greatly 
 fear me there is worse yet to come." 
 
 " Can there be worse for me, madame ? I think 
 I have nothing left to fear," and again Charlotte's 
 sweet lips trembled. 
 
 "For you, it may not be. I cannot tell, yet 
 even in this quiet convent there may be forces at 
 work of which you do not dream." 
 
 As she spoke these words the Queen of Navarre 
 chanced to lift her eyes to the ancient painting 
 above the chimney. Could it be that it shook ? 
 Was the old first abbess of Jouarre, in her straight 
 black robes, coming down out of her frame to fulfill 
 the words ? Absurd and impossible, Jeanne d'Al- 
 bret thought, and turned again to the young, white- 
 robed living abbess before her, whose blue eyes 
 were fixed with wondering intentness upon her 
 face. 
 
 " Madame, I hear that you have yourself joined 
 the Huguenots, and that you do not permit now 
 the celebration of the mass in Beam. Is that 
 true ? " 
 
 " Yes, ma mie, it is quite true," and the queen 
 smiled at the dread and anxiety plainly to be read 
 in Charlotte's face. 
 
 " And now that monsieur my cousin is dead, 
 can you alone sustain so great a change ? " 
 
 Jeanne d'Albret cast about her for an answer 
 which should be true and which yet should not 
 convey the whole truth to the mind of Charlotte 
 For Antoine de Bourbon, a man faithless even for 
 that faithless age, had been recreant to every 
 pledge either to the new religion or the old, child 
 ish in his fickleness, the sport of all parties. 
 
 "We will do our best, little cousin," she said 
 with a tinge of sadness in her look, which was yet 
 full of conscious power. " But we wrestle in our
 
 8i 
 
 little realm against masterful foes. The powers of 
 Rome and of Spain have both of late been arrayed 
 fiercely against us." 
 
 " And you fear not to set yourself against such 
 mighty odds ? " cried Charlotte, gazing with 
 breathless admiration at the queen. " You alone, 
 of all women of France, should have your name 
 written forever with that of Jeanne d'Arc. Like 
 her, you are high-souled and fearless ; like her, 
 you have the soul of a soldier in the body of a fair 
 and delicate woman," and Charlotte covered the 
 beautiful hand of Jeanne d'Albret with kisses. 
 " But, is it true that you have defied his holiness, 
 Pope Gregory, as men say ? " 
 
 " Not quite that, I hope. So at least I have not 
 purposed ; but his holiness has been greatly ag 
 grieved at the measures which I have taken in 
 Beam, and has proposed to enforce obedience 
 among my subjects by means of the Inquisition. 
 Think you I would permit that atrocious tyranny 
 among my leal and true people ? " and the eyes of 
 the queen flashed her indignant protest. 
 
 " I made answer to Cardinal d'Armagnac : ^re 
 ceive here no legate at the price it has cost France. 
 I acknowledge over me in Beam God only, to whom I 
 shall render account of the people he has committed 
 to my care. I shall do nothing in my kingdom by 
 force. There shall be neither death nor imprisonment 
 nor condemnation, which are the nerves of force.' 1 
 That letter, Charlotte, which God gave me, a weak 
 woman, the heart to write, has been printed and 
 scattered throughout the land, by whom I know 
 not. Thank God, I hear that the hearts of his 
 fainting saints have been cheered by it. But the 
 consequences which followed its reception by the 
 Holy Father bade fair to be full serious. You have, 
 even here, doubtless heard of the bull against me ? " 
 
 1 In this volume the authentic original utterances of historic persons are 
 indicated by Italics.
 
 82 
 
 " Yes, truly. I heard it with utmost dread and 
 amazement." 
 
 " I was cited to appear before the holy tribunal 
 of the Inquisition at Rome itself to clear myself, if 
 I could, from the stain of heresy." 
 
 " But you did not go ? " 
 
 "Nay, indeed I went not," and Jeanne d'Albret 
 laughed frankly. " The queen-mother this time 
 espoused my side of the quarrel. It suits not the 
 majesty of France to permit his holiness to carry 
 matters with too high a hand, and particularly to 
 order about those of the blood royal. So Gregory 
 was fain to give way, and Catharine stood me in 
 good stead for this time, whatever have been our 
 troubles in the past, or may be in the future." 
 
 " I know it is said of her majesty," said Char 
 lotte, " that she is neither friend to any person nor 
 foe to any, save for her own ends." 
 
 " That is said but too truly, I fear me," was the 
 reply. " But no sooner, my Charlotte, was Rome 
 silenced than his majesty of Spain began to proceed 
 against me after his own peculiar fashion. In good 
 sooth, I think not the Holy Father himself so good 
 a Catholic as my neighbor Philip ! " Upon which 
 they both laughed lightly. 
 
 Madame d'Albret proceeded to recount her thrill 
 ing escape from the plot of Philip to abduct herself 
 and her two children from their castle at Pau and 
 carry them by a force of armed men into Spain, 
 there to come before the Inquisition. From this 
 murderous plot the Queen of Navarre had been 
 saved only by the timely warning sent by Philip's 
 wife, Isabella of Valois. 
 
 " So this time, ma mie," she concluded her nar 
 rative, " we are safe ; but it is only for a time, for 
 all signs portend that sterner scenes are before us 
 than any we have known." 
 
 "But why say you so, chlre cousine?" asked 
 Charlotte. " Surely the land of France is now in
 
 83 
 
 a state of rest. 1 have heard- much of this royal 
 progress which the king and the queen-mother are 
 making through the southern lands. That, at least, 
 would seem to befit a time of peace." 
 
 "Ah, but, my child, wheresoever they go they 
 carry with them new and harsher oppression for 
 the new religion," returned the queen earnestly. 
 "They profess to protect it, but to lure our peo 
 ple into a deadly security, while in reality every 
 measure which they dare they take against us. 
 Last of all, and most ominous, we have had this 
 illustrious conference at Bayonne, hardly yet con 
 cluded." 
 
 " Were you at Bayonne, madame ? " 
 
 " Nay, not I, Charlotte, but my brave boy, my 
 Henri, was in the train of the queen-mother, with 
 Calignon and others of my council, his tutors and 
 attendants." 
 
 " It has been told me that the queen-mother has 
 a great liking for the prince." 
 
 "Yes, it is even so. She seeks to have him 
 about her whenever it is possible, saying that his 
 high spirits greatly divert and fascinate her. I 
 trust she intends honestly, but who can tell ? " 
 
 For the first time a cloud of anxiety rested on the 
 strong face of the queen. 
 
 "Sometimes," she continued more slowly than 
 she had been speaking, " I misdoubt me that Cath 
 arine fears my boy more than she loves him. But 
 why should she ? Hers are long, long thoughts, but 
 even the longest should not reach Henri. She has 
 a son of less than twenty years now on the throne 
 of France, and besides him yet two sons to take up 
 the succession should Charles lack issue. It would 
 seem impossible, save for that old tale of the vision 
 shown her by the astrologer. That, it was said, gave 
 twenty-four revolutions of a magic wheel for my 
 Henri, which was supposed to prefigure so many 
 years on the throne of France. But that was long
 
 8 4 
 
 ago and perchance but idle gossip," she cried, as if 
 interrupting herself, "and at best it was a supersti 
 tion better forgotten. I was speaking of Bayonne. 
 
 " You know, perchance, that Philip came not 
 thither to meet Catharine, as had been expected, 
 but sent Isabella, my defender, and with her his 
 ferocious favorite, Alva, the deadliest foe of free 
 dom and the cruelest in the world to-day. What 
 could such a conference bode save ill to the cause 
 of liberty and toleration ? " 
 
 " I hear that my father accompanied the king to 
 Bayonne," said Charlotte anxiously. 
 
 "It is true; my cousin Montpensier was most 
 eager to show his devotion to Philip and to Cath 
 olicity. You must know Alva made bold to chal 
 lenge the loyalty of the court of France to the pa 
 pacy. All the French princes and nobles present 
 thereupon protested their devotion to the Church 
 and Spain and monsieur the Due, your father, ex 
 claimed, I am told, that he would be cut in pieces 
 for Philip's service. He even embraced Alva, de 
 claring that if his own body were to be opened at 
 that moment the name of Philip would be found 
 imprinted on his heart ! " 
 
 A slight groan escaped Charlotte's lips. 
 
 " While he was at Bayonne, "proceeded the queen, 
 " Henri overheard Alva and the queen-mother ear 
 nestly discussing various plans for ridding Europe of 
 heresy. Alva, it seems but fair to think, was urg 
 ing that the first step and the most important would 
 be to cut off by violence the Protestant leaders in 
 each nation. The rest would follow easily. With 
 out leaders the common herd could easily be shocked 
 into obedience. ' For, madame,' said the duke, and 
 this Henri distinctly noted, while they thought him 
 too much a child to heed their words, ' the head 
 of one salmon is worth the heads of ten thousand 
 frogs ! ' That gives the key to what we may ex 
 pect, little cousin, for I cannot doubt, from the tern-
 
 85 
 
 per of Catharine, that in the end such counsels as 
 these will prevail. Calignon sent an account of 
 this conversation as Henri repeated it to him, in 
 cipher by a special messenger to me in Beam, not 
 three weeks since." 
 
 At this moment the vesper bell from the chapel 
 tower was heard ringing and Charlotte rose at the 
 summons. 
 
 Calling Radegonde, the young abbess directed 
 her to conduct the Queen of Navarre to the suite 
 of rooms now prepared for her in the guest house 
 across the abbey courtyard, where she would find 
 her ladies. This done, with a tender au revoir 
 Charlotte hastened to the chapel. 
 
 From the vesper service, it was noted by the 
 circa, the sub-prioress, Madame Cecile Crue, was 
 on that summer evening absent.
 
 MAITRE TONTORF 
 
 ADAME, we have spoken of the Catholic 
 leaders ; who are the master spirits to 
 day among them of the new religion ? " 
 
 Charlotte de Bourbon asked this question of the 
 Queen of Navarre as the two paced slowly together 
 the walks of the convent garden the following morn 
 ing. The flowers seemed kindlier, her majesty 
 fancied, than the decorations of the hall. 
 
 Mass had just been celebrated in the Sainte 
 Chapelle, at which the queen had not been pres 
 ent. 
 
 " My journey at this time from Paris," she re 
 plied, " will take me for conference with the greatest 
 military leader our cause has to-day in all Europe, 
 the admiral of France, Gaspard de Coligny. " 
 
 Jeanne d'Albret spoke the name with enthusiastic 
 reverence. 
 
 " Madame is then on her way to Chatillon ? 
 This I did not know, because, in sooth, I had not 
 stopped to inquire. Ah, how good you are thus to 
 come out of your proper road to see your little 
 lonely cousin ! " 
 
 Charlotte's eyes brimmed with grateful tears. 
 
 " It is a mere trifle out of my way, little one. I 
 was glad, moreover, to tarry a night at Meaux, 
 where I have a good friend I wish some day to make 
 your friend also, the Sieur de Minay. To con 
 tinue with the leaders of Huguenoterie, which to 
 day is no longer solely a spiritual temper, a re 
 ligious conviction, but has become a great and 
 powerful political party, for all Europe is divided 
 86
 
 87 
 
 now into two great camps, next to Coligny 1 
 ghould place your cousin, brother of my husband, 
 the Prince of Conde." 
 
 "Yes, that is as I supposed," said Charlotte. 
 
 " But around Coligny there is growing up a little 
 group of young cavaliers, men of like temper with 
 him, knights of pure life and holy purpose, sans 
 peur et sans reproche. These men are deeply de 
 voted to the admiral, men like the Chevalier de la 
 Noue and young Teligny and many another." 
 
 " I would I could once see the admiral," cried 
 Charlotte longingly. 
 
 " Ah, my child, he stands almost alone now for 
 the old chivalry of France, a gentle and perfect 
 knight, though so great a soldier. If I could but 
 take you with me to Chatillon ! There you would 
 see not only Coligny but Charlotte de Laval, his 
 wife, surely the sweetest saint and the bravest in 
 France to-day ! But to continue. Like women 
 ever we range everywhere rather than cleave to 
 one narrow path. 
 
 " Jean Goujon, Ambrose Pare, and many other 
 Frenchmen of genius and fame, have now declared 
 for the religion. In England, you know, they have 
 at present a Protestant queen, who," Jeanne 
 d'Albret added with a touch of sarcasm, "when 
 she can be fully persuaded and remain persuaded 
 over a night that it is for her own material interest 
 to aid the cause, has been known to dole out a few 
 ships and men." 
 
 "That sounds, dear madame, as if the English 
 queen were not unlike the queen-mother of France." 
 
 " Charlotte, allowing for the differences of race, 
 of family, and of education, Elizabeth of England 
 and Catharine de Medici are like enough to each 
 other to be sisters ! Neither has a heart which can 
 be touched by tenderness or by religious devotion. 
 Policy and self-interest rule the Englishwoman as 
 they rule the Italian. They will outwit Catholics
 
 88 
 
 one day and Protestants the next, if it serves their 
 purpose, and in my own heart I believe they despise 
 both alike, being unable to conceive the sincerity 
 of either. Nevertheless, the Queen of England is 
 counted in the Protestant camp. 
 
 " Then we have many German princes, most 
 notably the Elector Palatine, Friedrich der Fromm, 
 whose court at. Heidelberg is a haven of refuge for 
 those who flee from France, being persecuted for 
 their faith. In the Low Countries, where the con 
 flict between the two religions bids fair to be a 
 fierce one, there is as yet no great Protestant leader ; 
 howbeit I have many hopes myself of what may 
 come from the influence of my friend, the young 
 Count of Nassau, Louis, brother to the Prince of 
 Orange." 
 
 Charlotte de Bourbon glanced up at the queen 
 with quickened interest. 
 
 " The prince, although himself Catholic, is mar 
 ried now to a Protestant princess, Anne of Saxony, 
 and is known to stand stoutly against the introduc 
 tion of the Inquisition into the Low Countries. Ah, 
 he is a noble and a puissant prince ; if we could but 
 count him among us ! " 
 
 "How chances it that these brothers are so di 
 verse in name and faith, the one a Prince of 
 Orange, the other a Count of Nassau ; the one 
 Calvinist, the other Catholic ? " asked Charlotte. 
 
 "It is quite a tale to tell," replied the queen, 
 "and goes back a generation. The Nassaus are, 
 as you perchance know, a German not a Flemish 
 family ; but having vast estates in Flanders, one 
 branch of the house has ever held the German and 
 the other the Netherlandish possessions. These 
 are known as Nassau-Dillenburg and Nassau-Breda, 
 in token of their great baronies. Young Rene of 
 Nassau, a generation ago the head of the last- 
 named house, by his maternal inheritance became 
 also Prince of Orange, the small estate in Avignon,
 
 8 9 
 
 small and yet a free sovereignty. This Rene was 
 a gallant soldier and a great favorite of the Emperor 
 Charles. By special favor the emperor permitted 
 him to name as his heir his young cousin of the 
 German branch of the Nassaus, William. Then, 
 about twenty years ago, at the battle of St. Dizier, 
 Rene was killed ; and this youth, but eleven years 
 of age, who had been brought up in the German 
 and Protestant home of the Nassaus at Dillenburg, 
 succeeded to his princedom and to all his titles and 
 possessions. 
 
 " The emperor liked the boy, who was at once 
 taken to the court at Brussels, from the first, and 
 brought him up as his own son and, it needs not to 
 say, as a Catholic. He was given the best educa 
 tion that a prince of sovereign rank could receive, 
 and peculiar privilege and training in all matters of 
 diplomacy and State, for which he is said to have 
 extraordinary talent. 
 
 " Thus you see, my child, while John and Louis 
 and the other young counts of Nassau have grown 
 up in their ancestral castle at Dillenburg simply 
 noblemen and Protestant through and through, the 
 eldest son, this William, has grown up at court ; he 
 has had the training of a Catholic prince and of a 
 son of the great emperor. Moreover, he himself is 
 of sovereign rank and enormous wealth and influ 
 ence. Have I answered your question ? " 
 
 " Yes, surely, and it is a matter of much interest. 
 Are the Prince of Orange and Philip of Spain then 
 right fain and brotherly together ? " Charlotte had 
 listened to the queen's recital intently, with a deli 
 cate flush in her cheeks. 
 
 "Nay, far from it, mignonne" cried Jeanne 
 d'Albret. " That dark and bitter Spaniard has had 
 from boyhood, it is well known, an unquenchable 
 jealousy, an inborn suspiciousness toward his grace 
 of Orange. Probably the old emperor liked him too 
 well. Surely he might be pardoned if he took
 
 90 
 
 greater pleasure in his gracious companionship than 
 in that of a son who, men say, was never known 
 once in his life to laugh heartily." 
 
 " And this brother Louis, madame ma cousine, of 
 whom you have such hopes, you speak of him as 
 your friend. Have you seen him, then, frequently ? " 
 
 " Yes ; yet I would have seen him far more fre 
 quently if I could. He has come to our court at 
 Pau more than once from Geneva, where he studied 
 for some years. Ah, Charlotte," and the queen 
 glanced at the young abbess with arch raillery, "if 
 you were not a religieuse, Louis of Nassau would 
 be the cavalier I should wish to see win you if he 
 could ! So gallant, so debonair, and withal so 
 religious a young knight have I never seen. He is 
 irresistible ! I could even fall in love with him 
 myself, I, at my age," and the merry, uncon 
 strained laughter of her majesty rang out upon the 
 still air, a most unwonted sound in those precincts. 
 
 Charlotte glanced instinctively up the garden 
 walk to the deep, shadowy portal of the cloister 
 beyond the ancient oak tree. What could be more 
 natural than to see a black-robed figure silently 
 vanishing through the dim vista beyond ? And yet 
 it was an hour when the nuns were not wont to be 
 walking at will in the convent's cloisters and courts. 
 
 Jeanne d'Albret's keen eyes had also perceived 
 the figure in its clinging draperies, with its bowed 
 and hooded head and its noiseless step. 
 
 "Madame Crue, n'est-ce pas?" she asked dryly. 
 
 Charlotte assented. 
 
 They turned again and walked on. 
 
 "My child," said Jeanne d'Albret after a mo 
 ment's silence, "there have been times since I 
 came into this beautiful old convent of yours that 
 I have even envied you its secure repose. It seems 
 to possess a most sweet and holy atmosphere, so 
 protected and so peaceful. I love those gray and 
 ancient cloisters and that dim, vaulted chapel and
 
 your old stone cross yonder among the quiet graves. 
 Your nuns are like those doves in their mild, meek 
 ways. They go quietly about their pleasant tasks 
 and every nook and corner, every bit of brass or 
 piece of linen shows their exquisite care. The 
 roses are marvelously sweet ; the voices of your 
 choir make holy music ; I listened while you were 
 within the chapel during mass and they stirred me 
 strangely with those most affecting strains, ' O God, 
 make haste to help me. O Lord, make speed to 
 save me.' In faith, Charlotte, that music melted 
 me to tears, and I weep not often. For a moment, 
 as I said at first, I could have wished that my lot 
 like yours had been cast here, far from the noise of 
 camps and the glare of courts, sheltered and sure." 
 
 Greatly surprised at these words from her ener 
 getic and high-spirited friend, Charlotte awaited 
 eagerly what should follow. 
 
 " But, little cousin," the queen proceeded with 
 lowered voice, "when I see the scarce hid espion 
 age, when I observe the face of your sub-prioress, 
 those hard, watchful eyes, that cold mouth, and 
 when I note on all the other faces that chill restraint 
 which tells of life and energy suppressed, then I 
 long rather to flee from the place, fair and peaceful 
 though it is, and take you and all these compan 
 ions of yours with me into freedom. Loving you 
 as I do, Charlotte de Bourbon, I would rather see 
 your heart burn itself out with the fire of devotion 
 to faith and country in these fierce times, than to 
 see that heart crushed out by the benumbing 
 weight of this infinitely petty world of Jouarre ! " 
 
 Carried beyond her own judgment and intent the 
 queen had spoken with the impetuosity common to 
 her when deeply stirred, and she looked with quick 
 compunction at the profound sadness of Charlotte's 
 face. 
 
 " And yet I should not have spoken so hastily," 
 she quickly added. " There is another aspect to
 
 9 2 
 
 this case ; you are in an exalted place of influence, 
 with power to lead many to God. You are absolute 
 in your own realm and you rule that realm with 
 wisdom. I have marked the spotless order and I 
 have seen the clock-like regularity with which the 
 day's work and worship are discharged. You are a 
 woman now, my Charlotte, gentle, just, and wise 
 like your dear mother " 
 
 " Madame," cried Charlotte de Bourbon, inter 
 rupting her majesty and speaking with a mournful- 
 ness, and yet with a power which had not hitherto 
 appeared in her almost languid gentleness, " mad- 
 ame, I am, alas, not a woman. I am not what you 
 think me. I am what they have sought to make 
 me here a cipher." 
 
 " How mean you ? " asked Jeanne d'Albret 
 watching the significant change in the lovely girl 
 ish face with earnest interest. 
 
 " I mean, madame," replied Charlotte, with the 
 same serious emphasis, " that whether it be with 
 good intent or ill, all these women about me have 
 conspired to keep me a child, satisfied with a show 
 of power ; petted and pampered, made to be the 
 princess and the grandc. dame, but in all spiritual 
 and actual influence nothing. Oh, yes," the girl 
 went on, her cheek flushing, her lips proudly, sadly 
 smiling, "why is it I have never seen before what 
 I see so plainly to-day ? It has been something 
 magnifical to the old Abbey of Jouarre to name as 
 its abbess a Bourbon princess ; and so they have 
 been fain to keep me here ; I have been a pretty 
 ornament a decoration like a rose of gold, or a 
 corbel of marble for the altar, without use or en 
 ergy ; all they have asked of me is to be nothing 
 more than this, that so unhindered they may rule 
 this little world to suit their own will and purpose." 
 
 " This can hardly be true of all the women about 
 you, my Charlotte. It may be true of one," said 
 Jeanne d'Albret significantly.
 
 "' I was about to ask the name of this most lovely rose.'" 
 
 Page 93
 
 93 
 
 " And since Cecile Crue rules all the others," 
 returned Charlotte under her breath, "what matters 
 it ? The same end is reached. Did you fancy, 
 madame ma cousine, that I ruled in Jouarre ? Hardly 
 could you have been wider of the mark. Like 
 yourself I am a guest here. But unlike you I must 
 remain even to the end." 
 
 Charlotte spoke each word slowly as if weighing 
 for herself rather than for the Queen of Navarre 
 its full significance. 
 
 The latter turned, fully facing her, and taking 
 both her hands in hers, which were strong and sup 
 ple and satin smooth, she said very low : " Madame 
 Crue is coming down the walk, we may not again 
 be alone together. This remember never to de 
 spair ; never to forget your high heritage. More 
 than all, in faith and true humility rise without fear 
 to your rightful place and rule your realm as true 
 woman and true Christian. Ah Sister Cecile," she 
 said in a lively tone, the nun having now reached 
 them, "Mademoiselle and I have had a happy 
 little family visit here among your famous flowers. 
 I was about to ask the name of this most lovely 
 rose ? " and she bent and lifted the exquisite 
 creamy head swaying in the sunlight on its glossy 
 stem. 
 
 Cecile Crue knew that roses had not long been 
 occupying the royal mind, but her part was pliable, 
 obsequious deference and she proceeded to fill her 
 part. 
 
 In the evening the Abbess of Jouarre entertained 
 her royal cousin at a banquet in her own hall, 
 served with something of stately splendor, as be 
 fitted the rank of her guest of honor. 
 
 With Jeanne d'Albret came her ladies, while 
 Charlotte de Bourbon was attended as usual by 
 her maidens, the two Jeannes. Present besides by 
 reason of their office were the sub-prioress of the 
 abbey and the priest in residence.
 
 94 
 
 The Queen of Navarre had assumed a state cos 
 tume in honor of her hostess, and was magnificent 
 in a flowing robe of black lace worn over a closely 
 fitting suit of white and silver brocade, a fashion of 
 attire famous in the day under the name "trans 
 parencies." 
 
 Charlotte, as she advanced with maiden grace to 
 meet her majesty, looked not a whit less royal than 
 her guest. She was dressed in spotless white as 
 ever, but with a long embroidered silken train, and 
 with her golden hair, which was full and of waving 
 luxuriance, tastefully disposed and covered only by 
 a wide meshed net of gold thread, studded with 
 pearls. Her color was deeper than its wont to 
 night, her eyes were full of a new light, soft and yet 
 proud, and on her lips was a firmness of resolution 
 in contrast with the charming yet pathetic languor 
 which had hitherto been their most familiar expres 
 sion. 
 
 As she led the Queen of Navarre across the 
 brightly lighted hall and placed her at the head of 
 the table at her own right hand every eye in the 
 room followed the two, and those who had known 
 her longest, marked with surprise the bearing of 
 the youthful abbess, whose dignity and charm 
 seemed rather augmented than overshadowed by 
 the presence of the renowned queen. 
 
 The sub-prioress and the two Jeannes appeared 
 of necessity in their conventual robes, but the rich 
 dresses of the court-ladies of Navarre counterbal 
 anced the mournfulness of these, and the scene at 
 the table was brilliant and imposing. 
 
 The banquet was nearly at an end when Sister 
 Radegonde entered the hall and crossing to the head 
 of the table spoke in a low voice to the young 
 abbess. After the exchange of several questions 
 and replies, Charlotte turned to the queen and 
 said : 
 
 "Madame, the sister tells me that a lace mer-
 
 95 
 
 chant from Brussels, a man of worthy and reputable 
 appearance, has arrived at the abbey, accompanied 
 by his servant. The curious circumstance is that 
 he was on his way with his wares to visit your 
 court at Pau, having been commended to your 
 majesty's favor by a friend of yours. At Coulom- 
 miers he heard by accident, but most naturally, 
 that you were at Jouarre on a visit and accordingly 
 he has made haste to come hither. What say you ? 
 Would it be your wish to see the man now ? " 
 
 Jeanne d'Albret heard this account with a some 
 what indifferent countenance. 
 
 " I know not that 1 care to buy laces while on a 
 journey of such length as this," she said carelessly. 
 "And, moreover, why cannot the man wait till 
 morning ? " 
 
 One of her ladies bent over and reminded the 
 queen that their own party would leave Jouarre 
 early the following morning. 
 
 "Very true," was the reply, but with a doubt 
 ful and unconvinced accent. 
 
 "What have you there, Radegonde ? " asked 
 Charlotte. 
 
 Radegonde now handed her a small sealed note, 
 which, marking its address, Charlotte passed on 
 to the queen. 
 
 Opening it, still with a countenance expressive 
 of slight and casual attention, Jeanne d'Albret read 
 a reverential greeting of herself, followed only by 
 these words : 
 
 I trust it may seem good to your majesty to receive the lace 
 merchant, Tontorf. I believe his wares will please you. 
 
 LOUIS OF NASSAU. 
 
 Jeanne d'Albret dropped the missive carelessly 
 into her lap, her face unchanged even to the curi 
 ous eyes of Sister Cecile, which scanned it nar 
 rowly. 
 
 " How is it, ma cousine," she said lightly, smiling
 
 96 
 
 at Charlotte, " have you holy maids of Jouarre use 
 for such trifling gauds and fangles ? The man 
 comes well commended, but the time seems to me 
 a thought inopportune." 
 
 " We need new lace, if it please you, madame," 
 said Jeannette timidly to the abbess, " for the 
 altar." 
 
 " That is true, dear Jeannette," said Charlotte ; 
 " and moreover it will be a chance to while away 
 an hour for these noble ladies who I fear find the 
 monotony of our abbey dull and irksome. Yes, 
 Radegonde, if her majesty agrees, send the mer 
 chant in hither presently." 
 
 " Of a surety," said Jeanne d'Albret pleasantly ; 
 "I can always find pleasure in good lace, even if I 
 care not to buy." 
 
 As they rose from the table the queen crossed to 
 the fireplace where a few embers smoldered as 
 the August evening had chanced to be cool, and 
 seemed about to toss the note which she had just 
 read into the fire. As she bent to do this something 
 caused her to change her mind, and unnoticed, she 
 slipped it into her bosom. 
 
 Even as Jeanne d'Albret turned from the fireplace 
 and stood looking down the fine old vaulted hall so 
 unwontedly full that night of light and color, the 
 door was again thrown open and a man of some 
 what striking aspect was ushered into the presence. 
 
 As this man passed slowly up the hall, followed 
 by a man-servant clad in drab moleskin hose and 
 jerkin and carrying a pack enclosed in brown leather, 
 he was seen to be upward of fifty years, a man 
 with a clear-featured and clean-shaven face which 
 contrasted not unpleasantly in its firm lines and 
 ruddy color with his hair, which was absolutely 
 white. There were lines as of thought and study 
 about brow and eyes of the man, and a singular, 
 brooding thoughtfulness dwelt in the latter which 
 made the face one not soon forgotten. For the rest,
 
 97 
 
 the lace merchant was of goodly port and mien, 
 well though slenderly built, dressed in doublet and 
 trunk hose of fine cloth of a dark claret color, with 
 long black stockings and with broad, delicately em 
 broidered ruffles at throat and wrists. 
 
 Charlotte de Bourbon had crossed to her cousin's 
 side, and led by the nun, the merchant advanced 
 and knelt in dignified but humble obeisance before 
 the princely pair, kissing the edge of the robe of 
 each. Then rising at the bidding of Jeanne d'Al- 
 bret he received permission to present his wares, 
 which the servant now proceeded to unfold and 
 produce from his leather pack. 
 
 While this was going forward Mattre Tontorf stood 
 in a respectful but composed attitude at a slight 
 remove from the royal ladies, while from time to 
 time his eyes strayed around the room with a glance 
 peculiarly swift and searching. 
 
 A table had been drawn up upon which the laces 
 were now laid, Tontorf stepping forward and dis 
 playing them, handling them with marked dexterity 
 of touch. 
 
 Five minutes sufficed to bring the heads of all the 
 ladies present together over the table, for the 
 dealer's wares proved to be of rare and exquisite 
 quality, and even Sister Cecile could not withstand 
 their attractive power. 
 
 Ten minutes passed. The interest in the laces 
 was noticeably on the increase. Several pieces 
 surprisingly fine and cheap had been produced. 
 There was food for much discussion and the ladies 
 proved eager to discuss and compare values. Very 
 quietly then Maitre Tontorf withdrew from the 
 little group by a few paces and standing before the 
 chimney-piece seemed to study the fading figure of 
 old Saint Theodehilde in the ancient portrait with 
 marked interest. 
 
 This action on the part of the dealer did not 
 escape Sister Cecile. From the group of chatter- 
 Jft
 
 9 8 
 
 ing women her eyes cautiously and steadily fol 
 lowed him. His earnest scrutiny of the historic 
 portrait began to prove annoying to her. A sense 
 of uneasiness concerning the man's action displaced 
 that of short-lived interest in his wares. 
 
 Presently she moved noiselessly nearer to the 
 place where Maitre Tontorf stood. Turning his 
 eyes, without otherwise moving, and seeming 
 neither startled nor disturbed by her silent ap 
 proach the lace merchant said in a strikingly well- 
 modulated voice : 
 
 " Rather an interesting old portrait, madame, but 
 I should advise her grace the Abbess of Jouarre to 
 have it presently more securely fitted to its frame. 
 Do you notice a considerable space," and Maitre 
 Tontorf pointed with one finger, " at the right, be 
 tween the portrait and the oakwood of the mould- 
 ing?" 
 
 He turned as he spoke and fixed his eyes in a 
 direct gaze, mild and musing upon the pallid face 
 of Sister Cecile. A deep, dark flush rose slowly 
 and suffused her cheeks and even mounted to the 
 temples. An instant later she clasped her hands 
 beneath the long black folds of her sleeves, and 
 turned with downcast eyes as if it were not per 
 mitted for a religieuse to hold longer converse with 
 a man. 
 
 " Possibly you are right," she murmured coldly. 
 " It is a matter for the house carpenter."
 
 XI 
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF A KINGLY LINE 
 
 ON the twenty-fourth of August, being St. Bar 
 tholomew's Day, a scene of singular interest 
 was enacted in the ancient Abbey of Jouarre. 
 
 The ringing, solemn and prolonged, of the chapel 
 bell at an unwonted hour called all the nuns, serv 
 ants, and retainers together to the chapter-house, 
 but for what purpose all inquired in vain. 
 
 As they waited in wondering silence the bell 
 ceased tolling. Then in the full habit of her office 
 and order, her white veil fastened about the head 
 by a slender circlet of gold, her tall crozier in her 
 hand, Charlotte de Bourbon, Abbess of Jouarre, 
 walked alone and slowly into the lofty ecclesiastical 
 chamber. 
 
 So stately, so imposing, and so noble had they 
 never seen her, and yet there was something of the 
 shy and gentle modesty of her youth and of her 
 natural habit in the slight droop of her head upon 
 the slender neck, and in the appealing sweetness 
 of her mouth ; but in the blue eyes, under their level 
 lids, dwelt a light of conquering courage at which 
 all her world marveled. 
 
 Until this day their abbess had been among them 
 as a child, a princely and a well-beloved child, but 
 as she herself had said, destitute of power and with 
 out energy. What signified this strange scene ? 
 Surely this was not enacted at the instance of Cecile 
 Crue, for hers was the blankest face and the most 
 perplexed in the company, and yet heretofore for 
 many years hers had been the operating mind and 
 hand in every event of importance at Jouarre. 
 
 99
 
 100 
 
 I 
 
 Charlotte de Bourbon, crossing the wide, octag 
 onal chapter-house chamber, now mounted to a 
 raised and canopied stone seat, and standing before 
 it, lifted her right hand, pronouncing in a clear voice 
 the words : 
 
 " In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and 
 of the Holy Ghost, Amen." 
 
 Every person in the room had risen and stood 
 now with eyes fixed upon the young abbess, listen 
 ing with eager ears for what should follow. 
 
 Without tremor or hesitation she proceeded to 
 address the chapter, the nuns, the novices and serv 
 ants in words of affectionate greeting, and all 
 marveled greatly at the authority with which she 
 spoke. 
 
 " 1 have called you together," she said, "to cite 
 you to the past, imploring your pity for what I have 
 suffered and your pardon for my neglect, my ig 
 norance, and my faults. I have not been your 
 head ; I have been scarce better to you than a play 
 thing or an ornament. I have not been a woman, 
 but a child. 
 
 " Dear sisters of our holy order, I have this to 
 say to you in few words, as I have no gift of speech 
 to hold you long. I was made your abbess in my 
 childhood, against my will and my most earnest 
 protests and prayers, and only because it was my 
 father's wish. With bitter tears and a broken 
 heart, being driven by cruel threats and heartless 
 menaces, I came into your presence, scarcely con 
 scious, such was my confusion and anguish, yield 
 ing only because my childish feebleness had been 
 overborne by the force of tyranny. Thus I re 
 ceived my sacrosanct investiture as abbess of this 
 house. 
 
 " But how was this holy office solemnized ? No 
 bishop bestowed the benediction, but an unqualified 
 priest. The good Bishop of Meaux would not have 
 consented to such a mockery, and his presence was
 
 IOI 
 
 not desired. Madame du Paraclete, who gave me 
 the veil, was not herself an ordained abbess, and 
 consequently could not make my profession lawful ; 
 the written paper from which I read my vows was 
 a counterfeit, a travesty on the real vows, smoothed 
 and altered to pacify my childish fears." 
 
 As Charlotte de Bourbon continued, recalling and 
 recounting these circumstances of her consecration, 
 a scarlet spot burned on either cheek, a high and 
 imperious light flashed from her eyes, her voice 
 rang through the vaulted room fearless and firm. 
 She was every inch the daughter of a kingly line. 
 
 " So then, by force, by fraud, at an uncanonical 
 age, and without benediction of a bishop, the child 
 was made your abbess. These facts are known in 
 part to all of you, in greater part to a few of you. 
 To Madame Cecile Crue and to Pere Ruze they 
 are known wholly, to every last heart-throb of the 
 child's agony. To-morrow, in this room, in presence 
 of a notary I shall require the signatures of such of 
 you as were knowing to these facts to a document 
 clearly stating them which I conceive belongs of 
 due right in the archives of this monastery as well 
 as to myself." 
 
 At this declaration the countenance of Cecile 
 Crue had become fairly livid, while the amazement 
 of all the other nuns and novices at the sudden 
 transformation of their maiden-abbess kindled to a 
 passion of adoring loyalty. Was this the pathetic, 
 languid child of Jouarre ? Nay, rather, they saw 
 at last a right royal and worthy head, an abbess of 
 holy heart and of power commanding, such a head 
 as Jouarre had never known. Through all the com 
 pany ran a murmur of sympathy and devotion. 
 
 " Holy Mary, Mother of God, blessed art thou ! 
 The child is a woman and has come to her own," 
 whispered Sister Marie Brette to old Radegonde, 
 while the two Jeannes clasped each other's hands 
 with adoring glances.
 
 102 
 
 " To-day, sisters beloved," continued Charlotte 
 de Bourbon, "I declare myself, in spite of all that 
 is past, your present head. I have now attained 
 the age of eighteen and I wish to enter upon my 
 full charge. No longer among the small number of 
 our sisterhood is the office of sub-prioress required. 
 According to the power and authority vested in me, 
 I now and herewith, in presence of you all, declare 
 that office vacant, this to be confirmed, if it be your 
 will, by the chapter in session following. 
 
 With softer looks and a voice which trembled now 
 with deep emotion the young abbess continued : 
 
 " It shall now become my ceaseless effort in all 
 humility, obedience, and love, to grow up into a 
 worthy headship, to be among you as a true abbess, 
 guiding, purifying, and upbuilding the flock, fulfill 
 ing the will and commands of our blessed Jesu, Son 
 of Mary, spotless Lamb of God," with which words 
 the abbess and all present bent the head in reverent 
 devotion, making the sign of the cross upon fore 
 head and breast. 
 
 After a solemn chant and the benediction pro 
 nounced by the breathless and astonished confes 
 sor, the now self-consecrated abbess, for such she 
 seemed to all of them, crozier in hand with slow 
 steps and noble humility of mien, walked from the 
 place, a look of high, angelic devotion resting upon 
 her face. 
 
 The day which followed witnessed the formal 
 signature of the document which the young girl had 
 framed in due form with the assistance of Maitre 
 Bonnard, advocate, of Jouarre. It set forth in full, 
 without extenuation or malice, the conditions attend 
 ing her consecration in the March of 1559. 
 
 Without a dissenting vote the chapter next pro 
 ceeded to carry out the action proposed by their 
 abbess, which declared the office of sub-prioress 
 abolished. In cold and envenomed bitterness of 
 spirit Cecile Crue asked and obtained permission
 
 103 
 
 to be transferred to a neighboring convent, to which 
 she presently departed. 
 
 Quietly but with firm purpose and energy the 
 girl abbess now began to carry out her new pur 
 poses in the selfish and petty life of the little com 
 munity. A new spirit of consecration and of out 
 going charity took possession of the sisters of 
 Jouarre, and a new and broader activity quickly 
 stirred to life. 
 
 Then, when peace and charity seemed to have 
 begun their reign, the shadow fell again, for the 
 influences set in motion by Cecile Crue had been 
 working, and into the abbey court on Saint Bene 
 dict's eve rode Jean Ruze, hard set to do his worst. 
 
 Thus it fell out that the bishop-elect of Angers, 
 author of the famous treatise, "La verite et anti- 
 quite de la Foi catholique " once again sat at her 
 own table en tete-a-tete with an Abbess of Jouarre. 
 
 As the priest glanced from time to time at the 
 face and figure of the stately golden-haired maiden 
 opposite him, the contrast between his present 
 hostess and his hostess at this same table eight 
 years before, recurred to his mind forcibly. In 
 spite of the antipathy and fear which she felt to 
 ward her guest, the frank innocence, the bright 
 bloom, and the exquisite gentleness of Charlotte de 
 Bourbon were sharply set against his memory of 
 the cold, repellent, mocking worldliness of Louise 
 de Long-Vic. 
 
 But although Jean Ruze was quite capable of ad 
 miring youth and loveliness in a woman he was, as 
 prelate, capable of ruthlessly crushing every instinct 
 which might have led him to chivalrous and manly 
 protection. The purpose of his presence was soon 
 disclosed. His coming was the slow fruitage of 
 seed sowed by Cecile Crue at the time of the visit 
 to the abbey of the Queen of Navarre. 
 
 Rising from the table at the close of the meal, 
 Charlotte turned with resolute initiative to Ruze,
 
 IO4 
 
 feeling as if the hated presence of this man had 
 turned her to 'steel, and said : 
 
 " Monsieur will be so good as to explain his mis 
 sion here speedily, as my duties at this hour are 
 many and pressing." 
 
 Surprised at the clear unflinching courage of her 
 looks and the note of authority in her demand, 
 Ruze bowed repeatedly with his wonted suavity 
 before he attempted to reply. 
 
 " I ask simply as representing his grace, the Due 
 your father, Mademoiselle has made some changes 
 at Jouarre, n'est-ce pas ? " 
 
 Charlotte bowed slightly in assent. 
 
 "I note the absence of Sister Cecile Crue. I 
 hear that Mademoiselle has deposed her from her 
 position as sub-prioress of this convent. Was she 
 then not a faithful and diligent servant ? " 
 
 " Faithful to herself," replied Charlotte steadily ; 
 " incomparably diligent in your service, monsieur. 
 For mine there was something to be desired. I do 
 not employ women to listen behind doors nor to 
 secrete themselves in the crevices of walls to over 
 hear the private converse of others. Furthermore, 
 1 do not choose that such things shall be done where 
 I am mistress. Madame Crue showed herself no 
 longer capable of serving the sisterhood acceptably 
 in a position of trust and honor. Is this answer 
 sufficient ? " 
 
 It was a bold and dangerous challenge and Ruze 
 felt his blood tingle with the sense of encountering 
 a foe worthy of his steel. Still smiling coldly he 
 now remarked : 
 
 " It is commonly rumored that Madame Jeanne 
 d'Albret is at present the actual, albeit invisible, 
 head of Jouarre, and that it is her purpose, by in 
 sidious and underhanded operations, to turn it, little 
 by little, into a seat of heresy." 
 
 " If such rumor exists elsewhere than in the 
 imagination of monsieur I will give him full author-
 
 105 
 
 ity to contradict it. Insidious and underhand action 
 is impossible to the Queen of Navarre, however 
 common to her enemies. It is wholly, contempti 
 bly false." 
 
 Jean Ruze glanced aside at Charlotte's face with 
 genuine amazement. What had come over this 
 girl, that she so fairly and fearlessly defied him ? 
 He fancied he had broken the strength of her will 
 while she was yet a child. Did she then know 
 that he had power to lay again a fearful weight 
 upon her spirit ? 
 
 "Madame d'Albret however remains in constant 
 correspondence with Mademoiselle, I believe," he 
 said after a little pause, "and her majesty is still, 
 it is supposed, as obstinate a Huguenot as ever, 
 even to the defying of his holiness himself." 
 
 Charlotte made no reply. 
 
 "It will not escape Mademoiselle," Ruze con 
 tinued with his crafty blandness, "that some slight 
 suspicion may be aroused in the mind of the holy 
 father regarding her own Catholicity if she con 
 tinue in intimacy with so rebellious and trouble 
 some a heretic as Madame d'Albret ? " 
 
 " I hardly flatter myself so far as to fancy that 
 his holiness takes cognizance of the motions of a 
 demoiselle so insignificant as myself," replied Char 
 lotte simply. 
 
 "Then allow me to assure you, dear lady, that 
 no event nor action of yours of any importance 
 passes without cognizance of the humble servant 
 of his holiness, else would he be indeed a faithless 
 under-shepherd." 
 
 " Monsieur refers to himself ? " 
 
 Ruze bowed and proceeded : 
 
 " Let Mademoiselle not deceive herself. Innova 
 tions and changes have been already brought about 
 in this convent which are fully known by his holi 
 ness. If matters take on a shade deeper tint, if by 
 any means the Abbess of Jouarre secretly or openly
 
 io6 
 
 wavers in her allegiance to Holy Church, there are 
 means swift and sufficient to bring her back to duty 
 or to put an end to an influence not conformable to 
 the church's high interests." 
 
 Charlotte's color changed perceptibly, but her 
 voice did not tremble. 
 
 "Monsieur Ruze doubtless has reference to the 
 agencies of the Inquisition." 
 
 Ruze again bowed, glancing with remorseless 
 avidity at the face of the young abbess to note the 
 effect of this suggestion. 
 
 For a moment the young girl turned from that 
 look of malign menace. It was as if she were tak 
 ing time fully to face the ominous crisis, fraught to 
 her perchance with life and death. But if for a 
 moment she faltered, faith conquered in the end, for 
 it was with look fearless and stern and high, the 
 look of the saint and the martyr, that she turned 
 again to the priest. 
 
 " Monsieur Ruze," she said, with incredible calm 
 ness, " long ago, when I was but a weak, defense 
 less child, you threatened me with the terrors of the 
 church as you come to threaten me now. In the 
 crypt of Saint Paul, on one certain night you wot 
 of, my free childhood lay slain before you, slain by 
 your own hand. Summoning to aid you every 
 source of dread and peril, with a cruelty which to 
 this day seems to me beyond belief, you intimi 
 dated me to do your will and the will of my father 
 although, in the event, my life itself was well-nigh 
 crushed and was saved only by the devotion of one 
 old, humble woman. For what you did then you 
 must one day give an account before God. 
 
 " To-night you come again, bringing with you 
 the mysterious menace of a terrible force where 
 with you again hope to chain and overwhelm my 
 spirit which is seeking God in simplicity and truth. 
 I tell you plainly that you come in vain. I am true 
 and loyal to the holy Catholic Church and hope
 
 IO7 
 
 ever TO remain her dutiful child ; but it is for love 
 of her holy truth that I adhere to her, not for fear 
 of such threats as these. I shall obey the voice of 
 God, not the voice of men. If the time should ever 
 come that the machinery of the Inquisition should 
 be sought to be used against me, as born of the 
 house and lineage of Saint Louis, I shall appeal 
 with confidence to the majesty of France ; but as 
 a child of God I shall appeal with a far greater con 
 fidence to my heavenly Father. If death comes, 
 believe me, 1 can die." 
 
 A change, little by little, had come over the face 
 of Jean Ruze as he listened to these words of Char 
 lotte de Bourbon. He stood as if overawed, unable 
 to remove his eyes from hers, while his own face 
 grew strangely pallid and he was seized with an 
 inner trembling. It was he this time who was over 
 mastered. His sharp and poisoned weapons had 
 fallen harmless before the divine faith and courage 
 of this maiden, and his own seared conscience was 
 pierced by the memory of the spiritual violence he 
 had done her innocent childhood. 
 
 Murmuring a few half-intelligible words of apol 
 ogy he withdrew in strange haste from the hall and 
 betook himself to the guest house, where he passed 
 a night of mental torment. 
 
 The following morning he was, to his own sur 
 prise, summoned to the presence of the abbess. 
 
 Gently, but with something of imperiousness, 
 Charlotte de Bourbon laid before him the parch 
 ment on which was written the true and authentic 
 description of her consecration as Abbess of Jouarre 
 by force and fraud. 
 
 " f^oild, monsieur," she said coldly; "better 
 than these women whose signatures follow, you are 
 acquainted with all that befell on that night, and by 
 what manner of device I was made sup'erieure. You 
 will be so good therefore as to append your signa 
 ture here," and bending she touched a space on
 
 io8 
 
 the parchment, her eyes fixed full and steadily 
 upon the face of the priest which showed in this 
 morning light, in its wan and sunken aspect, as the 
 face of a craven coward. 
 
 He glanced over the words of the document with 
 strong effort to regain the mask of composure and 
 of judicial deliberation which he usually wore so 
 successfully. 
 
 " It is not necessary for you to take time to read 
 the paper, I think, Monsieur Ruze," said Char 
 lotte ; " Madame Crue has already made you 
 familiar with its import. You have simply to 
 sign." 
 
 Strange reversal of the relation of these two, the 
 man of the world, the facile Jesuit, the experienced 
 court ecclesiastic, and this simple cloister-bred girl ! 
 
 As if acting without volition Ruze took the pen 
 and signed, then precipitately left the hall, called 
 for his horse and his escort, and rode away from 
 Jouarre with all haste.
 
 XII 
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE LANGE DELFT 
 
 ON that same Bartholomew's Day in which the 
 youthful Abbess of Jouarre came to her own, 
 two hundred miles to the north of Jouarre 
 the sun was shining broadly over the streets and 
 squares of the Zeeland capital, Middelburg, the 
 proud "city of the center." Center, indeed, was 
 the rich and stately old town of its island of Wal- 
 cheren, center also of the commerce of all the 
 North Netherlands, and the center of Middelburg 
 was its ancient Gothic abbey, See of a bishop, and 
 scene of many a brilliant gathering of Knights of 
 the Fleece and great ecclesiastic lords. 
 
 Important, powerful, opulent, and jealous of its 
 rights, Middelburg possessed in the time of which 
 we write a cosmopolitan reputation greater perhaps 
 than any of its sister cities, by reason of the foreign 
 commerce which drew to it in force the trade of 
 England and Scotland, of Italy, France, and Spain, 
 and which made merchant princes of its burghers. 
 While the trade of Bruges had already begun to 
 decline, that of Middelburg was still increasing. 
 
 But the inhabitants owed their wealth and their 
 privileges to a circumstance which bestowed upon 
 Middelburg a prestige greater and more enduring 
 than that gained by its commercial prosperity. To 
 the citizens of Middelburg had been granted in 1217 
 the earliest charter or Keure in the Dutch language, 
 the first charter ever issued in the provinces of Hol 
 land and Zeeland for protection of the rights of life 
 and property of its citizens and defense of their lib 
 erties against tyranny of kings or emperors. 
 
 109
 
 1 10 
 
 The sober dignity of the burghers of Middelburg, 
 hospitable to strangers, and yet reticent and even 
 impassive, the subdued splendor of living of the 
 heads of its powerful corporations, notably the 
 great wine lords (Wijnheeren), the judicial gravity 
 of its magistrates, and the picturesque pomp of its 
 bishop, all comported well with the appearance of 
 the city itself. 
 
 Circular in form, it was builded around the great 
 abbey which enclosed a square of enormous pro 
 portions, approached like a fortress on all sides by 
 a labyrinth of narrow, winding passages and feudal 
 arches. The primitive moat, drained and filled, 
 had been converted into a street which described a 
 perfect circle around the outermost fringe of the 
 abbey limits, and was known as the Lange Delft, 
 or long ditch. Outside this was a series of streets 
 constructed in concentric circles, the last circle be 
 ing the stout city wall, with the wide blue waters 
 of the canal surrounding all and permitting the lar 
 gest ships afloat in those days to approach the com 
 modious, busy, thronging quays. 
 
 The great market place of Middelburg, not far 
 removed from the abbey precincts, unshaded and of 
 enormous dimensions, was upon the afternoon in 
 question flooded by the August sun, whose beams 
 scintillated from the numberless airy pinnacles of 
 the Gothic Stadthuis and brought out into bold 
 relief the richly canopied statues of its magnificent 
 facade. High into the blue of the summer sky rose 
 the graceful belfry, pierced by mullioned windows 
 and flanked by slender turrets. The clock on the 
 belfry showed the hour of five and on the stroke 
 the clear carillon of the Stadthuis chimes, familiarly 
 known by the name of " Gekke Betje " (Giddy 
 Betty), pealed out merrily upon the heated air. 
 
 The market place was almost deserted, the 
 burghers preferring the coolness of their shops to 
 the heat of the afternoon sun, but a tall, young fel-
 
 Ill 
 
 low of eighteen, who was just turning into the 
 Lange Delft, glanced up with a half-smile of in 
 dulgent derision at the clock in the belfry. 
 
 Distinctly seen from the square, lifting its lofty 
 spire far above the red and clustering house roofs, 
 rose "Lange Jan," the tower of the abbey church. 
 The moments passed and still no sound could be 
 heard from its belfry. In dignified silence it stood 
 there, its fine proportions arrayed, it might almost 
 seem, in grave rivalry with the exuberant Renais 
 sance elegance of the Stadthuis. 
 
 Five minutes passed and then rich and deep, 
 with full sonorous tones the chimes of Lange Jan 
 for five o'clock were heard ringing out over the 
 old abbey roofs, over the silent market place, and 
 the substantial houses of the burghers. This inter 
 val between the voices of Gekke Betje and of Lange 
 Jan occurred according to an unbroken custom, 
 upon which the younger and more romantic Middel- 
 burg folk built many a fanciful tale, hinging usually 
 upon a love affair between the noble and stately 
 Jan and the frivolous and impulsive Betje. 
 
 Several minutes before the abbey chimes had 
 caught up with their impetuous neighbor, the youth 
 whom we have seen turning from the market place 
 into the Lange Delft had reached and entered a 
 mansion of a rich and soberly imposing exterior. 
 Like all the burgher dwellings of the day this house 
 stood immediately upon the street, but unlike many 
 of them it was approached through a large portico. 
 This portico in itself gave marked distinction to the 
 dwelling, being built of dark oak deeply paneled in 
 the style which immediately preceded the Renais 
 sance, and entirely covered with rich and delicate 
 carving. Among the various devices of the signifi 
 cant ornamentation the initials A. H. gave token 
 to the owner's name. For the rest the house pos 
 sessed a wide facade of quartered stone, with panels 
 of fine carving set in above the windows of the
 
 112 
 
 ground floor, while quaint and graceful arabesques 
 capped the rows of windows, until the fifth and 
 highest was crowned by a small tower of elegant 
 design flanked by the steep battlements of the roof. 
 
 Passing through a hall lined with massive chests 
 and cabinets, Norbert Tontorf, for this was the 
 youth's name, opened a door opposite the one which 
 gave entrance from the Lange Delft, and stepped 
 immediately into a broad sunny courtyard paved 
 with round cobblestones and surrounded by build 
 ings of brick, of solid and regular structure two stor 
 ies in height, the famous printery of Mijnheer Nik- 
 olaas Tontorf. 
 
 The red gabled roof with its dormer windows 
 shone warm in the sun ; beneath it the walls were 
 covered thickly with a luxuriant grapevine of an 
 cient growth, interspersed with the darker leaves 
 of the ivy. The rows of casement windows stood 
 wide open, the shutters with their painted quarter- 
 ings swung in the light wind ; voices came from 
 the interior, and figures could be seen as they 
 moved to and fro, or bent over their work. A 
 vaulted passage gave entrance to a narrow side 
 street, and here several heavy carts stood awaiting 
 their unloading. 
 
 Men and boys, laborers and apprentices, at work 
 around the carts called to each other in loud and 
 cheerful voices ; a flock of pigeons flying down from 
 the roof surrounded a charming girl of twelve, who 
 had corn in her hands which she scattered abroad 
 for them. The whole scene was fraught with busy 
 life and contented activity. 
 
 Crossing the courtyard with an occasional salute 
 to the apprentices, who doffed their caps as he 
 passed them, Norbert Tontorf was not sorry to 
 escape the force of the ardent sun as he stepped 
 into the shadow of a species of loggia, where an 
 open flight of stairs gave access to the offices of the 
 second story.
 
 113 
 
 The stairway was massively built of oak and the 
 handrail terminated in two Zeeland lions rampant 
 with gilded manes and tails. At a little distance 
 was a well from which young Tontorf paused to 
 draw a draught of sparkling water in a shallow iron 
 cup swung from the pump by a rusty chain. 
 
 In every motion of his well-knit limbs as well as 
 in the frank, sunburned countenance, and in the 
 steady gray eyes which now looked out over the 
 edge of the broad drinking cup, the sturdy inde 
 pendent character of the lad could easily be read. 
 A shock of curly yellow hair showed under the 
 small student cap he wore, cropped close to a well- 
 shaped head. As he dropped the cup to go swing 
 ing on its chain he called to the young girl across 
 the courtyard, in a ringing, masterful voice : 
 
 " Heh, Jacqueline ! that black pigeon is none of 
 thine. A shame to entice away our neighbor's 
 fowls to fill thine own flock ! " 
 
 Not waiting for the answer which the girl looked 
 up with a merry defiance to call back, Norbert 
 sprang up the oak stairs, pushed open a door, and 
 entered a low-ceiled room of considerable dimen 
 sions. 
 
 At a table near an open window, through which 
 the sunny air was streaming, sat a middle-aged 
 matron of dignified yet winning aspect, and beside 
 her a slender girl with long flaxen braids of hair, 
 strongly resembling Norbert. 
 
 Both Vrouw Tontorf and her daughter Helma 
 were bending over small printed folios on which 
 they were illuminating by hand initial letters and 
 borders of brilliant colors and lacelike delicacy of 
 design. 
 
 A feminine orderliness and refinement were 
 plainly perceptible in all their appliances, while 
 both mother and daughter wore a certain patrician 
 aspect in no way interfered with by their artistic 
 handiwork. 
 
 H
 
 H4 
 
 "Welcome, Norbert," said Vrouw Tontorf, look 
 ing up from her work ; " where hast thou been all 
 these hours of the afternoon ? " 
 
 "Why dost thou ask, mother?" said Helma 
 Tontorf, "since Norbert is sure to have been at 
 the Rouenische Kade watching for an incoming 
 galleon." 
 
 " But none came ? " asked the mother with falling 
 cadence as of repeated disappointment. 
 
 " Nay, but Piet Blaeser said the 'Fleur d'Auxerre ' 
 might arrive to-night. I shall therefore go down 
 again to the Kade after supper. It is surely high 
 time that letter or message reached us from my 
 father." 
 
 Vrouw Tontorf 's face betrayed a wearing anxiety, 
 but it was Helma who spoke. 
 
 " It is now two months and more, is it not, since 
 my father left Middelburg ? and many weeks since 
 aught of tidings has reached us." 
 
 In silence Norbert crossed to his mother's side, 
 placed his arm affectionately around her shoulder, 
 and bent to kiss her cheek. 
 
 " Dear little moeder," he said softly, " I am not 
 uneasy ; oh, no, that is not at all what takes me to 
 the Kade " 
 
 At that moment a footfall was heard on the stairs, 
 and the young Jacqueline, the loose waves of her 
 light brown hair blowing behind her, her dark eyes 
 fairly blazing with excitement, burst into the room, 
 exclaiming : 
 
 "The father has come! he is here, safe and 
 sound ! Hurry, hurry, and greet him ! He is 
 awaiting us in the Gossaert-Saal ! " and without 
 further pause Jacqueline bounded down the stairs 
 again. 
 
 Vrouw Wendelmutha Tontorf was the eldest 
 daughter of Adolf Hardinck, thirty years earlier a 
 prominent burgher of Middelburg and Master of the 
 Rolls. He had been architect and householder of
 
 the fine old mansion, and it was his initials which 
 were still to be seen carved in tracery in the panels 
 of the oak portico. 
 
 Suspected, with more or less reason, of the Lu 
 theran heresy, and in the form considered most op 
 probrious, that of the followers of Menno and Hoff 
 mann, Adolf Hardinck fell a victim to the edict of 
 the tenth of June, in the year of grace 1535, having 
 been put to death by order of his imperial majesty, 
 Charles V., in the fierce persecution wherewith he 
 sought to root out the first growth of heresy from 
 the Netherlands with fire and sword. 
 
 For what caprice of carelessness or pity the rec 
 ords fail to show, the lives of the wife and children 
 of the Master of the Rolls of the free city of Mid- 
 delburg were spared, and their stately house escaped 
 confiscation. 
 
 By the industry and genius of the husband of 
 Wendelmutha, a prosperous printing establish 
 ment had been developed, to suit the needs of 
 which the house had been enlarged until its present 
 proportions had beeen reached. The family resi 
 dence, however, as it stood fronting the Lange Delft, 
 remained unchanged in its general aspect since the 
 day of Adolf Hardinck's death. 
 
 The great drawing room at the left of the en 
 trance was known in the family as the Gossaert- 
 Saal, from a notably fine portrait of the Master of 
 the Rolls, by the famous Mabuse, which was rightly 
 held as its chief glory. Albeit after a sober sort 
 the room was splendid and stately, for in the re 
 finements and luxuries of domestic life the people 
 of the Netherlands at this time surpassed all their 
 contemporaries. 
 
 The walls were hung with Flemish tapestry and 
 richly wainscoted in black oak ; the windows were 
 blazoned with the arms of the Hardincks and Ton- 
 torfs ; the furniture consisted of massive tables of 
 old walnut of deep, warm hue, and substantial
 
 carved chairs covered in leather. Many family por 
 traits besides the Mabuse adorned the walls. Cabi 
 nets of Dutch oak, and also of inlaid ebony, held 
 rare vases and jars of old faience and curious goblets 
 of Venetian glass and of repousse silver. 
 
 In front of the great carved chimney piece in the 
 coolness and dim rich dusk of the room stood, wait 
 ing to receive wife and children, Nikolaas Tontorf, 
 Dean of the Printer's Guild of Middelburg, who, 
 as the lace merchant from Brussels, visited Jouarre 
 scarce two weeks before. 
 
 Here in another moment he was found and wel 
 comed home with overflowing gladness. 
 
 Having refreshed himself with the delicious food 
 and wine brought him by a servant-woman in 
 snowy cap and kerchief, whose delight in her mas 
 ter's return seemed as great as that of his family, 
 Mijnheer Tontorf announced himself ready to re 
 count certain experiences of his journey. 
 
 " 1 shall tell you first of all that which took place 
 last of all," quoth the quondam lace merchant with 
 his grave smile at the eager and affectionate looks 
 fixed upon him. " It is freshest in my mind and it 
 will explain why I have returned so much earlier 
 than I looked to do. 
 
 "You will recall my prime purpose to convey 
 the Bibles and the letter of Count Louis of Nassau 
 as speedily as possible to her majesty of Navarre. 
 As on former journeys, I provided myself with laces 
 to produce for sale as an ostensible object; and, 
 pursuing my way southward toward Nerac, I had 
 gone so far through the fertile province of La Brie 
 as the ancient walled town of Coulommiers. Here 
 I had purposed spending the night, when an inci 
 dent occurred which caused me to retrace my steps 
 with haste. 
 
 "In the public house to which I had betaken 
 myself, Fritz fell in at the table with a varlet 
 from the Abbey of Jouarre, which we had passed
 
 H7 
 
 on its green hill above a little river on our way 
 from Meaux. 
 
 " The fellow appeared to me a kind of confiden 
 tial servant of the establishment, and overhearing 
 him make mention of her majesty of Navarre, I 
 joined myself forthwith to the pair of them, and 
 sent for a bottle or two of red wine, with which 
 they drank my health cheerfully. 
 
 " It soon appeared that this varlet, Lambinot by 
 name, had been sent post-haste with a letter of 
 great importance from the sub-prioress of the con 
 vent at Jouarre to a priest by the name of Ruze, 
 at Angers. 
 
 " Little by little I gathered from the fellow, who 
 was very willing to show his familiarity with the 
 affairs of his abbey, that its nominal head was a 
 demoiselle of but eighteen, a princess of the blood ; 
 while the sub-prioress, Madame Crue, in reality 
 held everything in her own hands the affairs of 
 the young abbess with the rest. 
 
 " It further appeared that the Queen of Navarre 
 herself was even then on a visit to Jouarre, and 
 that following a long tete-a-tete between her majesty 
 and her cousin the abbess, in her great hall on the 
 preceding afternoon, he, Lambinot, had been very 
 early that morning summoned by the sub-prioress 
 and sent on his present errand. 
 
 "'Oh, you can lay a wager,' said the fellow 
 winking cunningly, ' that Madame Crue lost not a 
 syllable of what their serene majesties and royal 
 highnesses had to say to each other ! Pretty rich 
 stuff it was too, I'll venture to say. The Queen of 
 Navarre is the worst heretic in France.' 
 
 " ' Does the sub-prioress listen at doors then ? ' I 
 asked with feigned carelessness. ' I suppose that 
 is the fashion of women in these convents. What 
 else have they to divert themselves with, poor 
 things ? ' 
 
 "To this he replied with coarse scorning: 'Nay,
 
 then, master, you must think Madame Crue a 
 clumsy, common sort, little better than a serving 
 wench ! Ha, ha ! l/entre-saint-gris ! She has a 
 trick worth two of that, and it's Loys Lambinot 
 who served her to it too. Nothing can escape her, 
 I'll swear to that.' 
 
 "I need not tell you that before the man was 
 well out of Coulommiers our horses were ready and 
 we on our way back to Jouarre Abbey, hoping to 
 be in time to have speech of the queen and to de 
 liver into her keeping the letter of Count Louis. 
 
 " I found a noble and ancient monastery and a 
 kindly reception. With little delay I was ushered 
 with my lace pack, the other being left in safe hid 
 ing, into the abbess' hall, where I found the Queen 
 of Navarre herself and other ladies." 
 
 "Oh, father, pray tell us what the queen is 
 like!" cried little Jacqueline with childish eager 
 ness. 
 
 Mijnheer Tontorf looked into her bright eyes with 
 a fond smile. 
 
 "The Queen of Navarre is a right royal lady, 
 with eyes almost as bright as thine, little maid, and 
 a gracious and noble mien ; but I think if thou 
 couldst have seen both, thy eyes would have dwelt 
 longest upon the white abbess, as many call her, 
 for among a group of beautiful women she was in 
 deed fairest." 
 
 "Tell us more of her, father," said Norbert, 
 keenly interested. 
 
 " The Abbess of Jouarre is a lily-like maiden, 
 tall, graceful, and, although commanding, of an 
 exceeding gentleness withal. She has large shin 
 ing eyes of a most heavenly azure, a proud and 
 yet a tender mouth, glinting golden hair and a fair 
 delicate color. She was clad they tell me it is 
 ever her custom all in white, with little of the 
 nun about her garb save a quaint severity of cut. 
 She has a low, quiet voice, and a smile which begins
 
 in her eyes like a dawning. But you see I have 
 not the right words ! For there was a something 
 well-nigh celestial and yet strangely wistful and 
 pathetic in the whole aspect of her. She was 
 made abbess at twelve years, I learn, without her 
 mother's consent and wholly against her own will." 
 
 " Oh, how terrible ! " murmured Vrouw Tontorf. 
 
 " I found at once," continued her husband, " that 
 the sub-prioress, Madame Crue, was present a 
 pale-faced, ascetic woman, with thin lips and sharp 
 eyes. While the ladies amused themselves with 
 the laces I took my chance to observe the room. 
 The walls were solidly lined with Cordova leather, 
 and from the nature of the situation did not seem 
 to me to furnish the particular coign of vantage 
 from which I doubted not Madame Crue must 
 have gathered the substance of her long letter to 
 the priest, Ruze. 
 
 " My attention was soon drawn to the projecting 
 wodden mantelpiece sheathing the chimney, as 
 does this one, and reaching even to the rafters 
 above. Here was builded into the framework an 
 ancient portrait of some early patroness or founder, 
 I cared little who, but noted at once that the pic 
 ture did not quite fill its frame, a narrow gap inter 
 vening on the right. Convinced that I had dis 
 covered the trick of which Lambinot had made 
 mention, since a space with scant doubt existed 
 between the portrait and the chimney, I purposely 
 drew the attention of Madame Crue to my scrutiny. 
 I believed it would be possible to discern by her 
 countenance, when taken thus unaware, if this 
 were her listeners' gallery. Her changing color 
 and evident uneasiness were full proof to me of 
 this, and I believe the poor lady was most unhappy 
 as she presently perforce left the hall with the 
 nuns and ladies-in-waiting." 
 
 "Oh, father, how could you have been so bold ? " 
 cried Jacqueline.
 
 I2O 
 
 "What less could I do than come to the succor 
 and protection from her enemies of so lovely a 
 creature as this white abbess ? " asked her father. 
 
 " Left alone with these two royal dames," he 
 continued, "I assisted her majesty in bringing to 
 light the contents of the letter of the Count of 
 Nassau, which being writ in sensitive ink she had 
 well-nigh missed. Then as she read I said plainly 
 to Mademoiselle de Bourbon, since time failed for 
 many words : 
 
 " ' Madame, you are watched.' 
 
 " ' Yes,' she made answer quite simply ; ' I have 
 been all my life.' 
 
 "Then I spoke of the man Lambinot and of my 
 conjecture as to the hiding-place of Madame Crue 
 on the previous evening, and was straightway con 
 firmed by Madame d'Albret, who had noticed a 
 motion of the ancient picture while they conversed. 
 A hasty examination of a disused chamber and loft 
 beyond the hall showed a ladder so placed as to 
 give ready access to the niche between canvas and 
 chimney. A few boards had been sawed away 
 and a listeners' gallery easily formed. 
 
 "'All that we said yestereven has been over 
 heard, then, by Madame Crue ! ' cried Mademoiselle, 
 as we returned to her hall. 
 
 "'Yes,' said her majesty, whose face showed 
 deepest anxiety, 'and not only so, but it is now in 
 substance on its way to Pere Ruze in Angers.' 
 
 " Mademoiselle de Bourbon turned white as 
 death. This priest Ruze has a cruel power over 
 her which he has cruelly exerted in times past at 
 the will of her father, who is perhaps the harshest 
 bigot in the Catholic ranks. Cecile Crue forms 
 the cpnnecting link between the young Abbess of 
 Jouarre and, I fear with little doubt, the Inquisi 
 tion itself. Madame d'Albret, with her knowledge 
 of the powers at work, had good cause for anxious 
 looks/'
 
 121 
 
 Norbert Tontorf rose from his place and strode 
 up and down the great room with compressed lips 
 and a flash of indignation in his eyes. 
 
 " By my troth," he cried, " I believe I will my 
 self make my way to that same Jouarre, if so you 
 call it, and offer my services in the defense of its 
 lorn and lovely lady. Shame upon us if we leave 
 her thus defenseless with those geires swooping 
 down upon her." 
 
 " Young cavaliers are scarce welcome in con 
 vents, my son," said Vrouw Tontorf with a smile, 
 in which motherly sympathy for the impulse of the 
 youth and amusement at its irrelevance were 
 mingled. "Continue, my husband. Your tale is 
 of strange interest." 
 
 "The position of the demoiselle is not, Norbert, 
 wholly without support or defense," said his father 
 gravely. "The Queen of Navarre has, as I had 
 heard full often, but now saw for myself, a high 
 hearted courage. ' Fear nothing, little cousin,' she 
 said, ' our God will defend us and we will trust 
 ourselves quietly in his hands. Friends like Co- 
 ligny and Conde will aid me if need be in your 
 defense. And who knows ? Perhaps it is even full 
 time for you to break wholly and boldly with this 
 woman, so evil and malign, and yourself be mis 
 tress of Jouarre, bringing to naught with your own 
 holy and maiden bravery the counsels of the ene 
 mies of our Saviour. For myself, I have met dan 
 gers far greater than this, unscathed. Shall I fear 
 priests, who have escaped the hands of popes and 
 kings ? ' 
 
 " With great calmness she then said to me : ' I 
 learn from the letter of my friend, the young 
 Count of Nassau, that it is you who have printed 
 my letter to the Cardinal d'Armagnac. I learn 
 also what precious wares you have brought me, 
 according to my great desire, other than these laces 
 which have to-night so well served your purpose.
 
 122 
 
 Have you not even now with you one of those same 
 Bibles that you so courageously continue to print 
 in Middelburg and scatter through France and 
 Flanders in spite of the bloody edicts ? ' 
 
 " I drew from my inner pocket that volume 
 which thou, Helma, hast so carefully illuminated. 
 She praised its beauty, and then, kissing the young 
 abbess on brow and lips, and placing the little book 
 between her hands, said : ' Now, dear child, let the 
 word of God comfort and lead thee, and may the 
 Lord himself defend thee with his own right 
 hand.'" 
 
 The face of Helma was radiant with exalted 
 pleasure. 
 
 "How beautiful," she exclaimed, her eyes filling 
 with tears, " that the lovely, lonely young princess 
 in that far-away convent has my own dear book 
 upon which I worked so long ! Did she appear to 
 prize it ? " 
 
 " Yes, truly. She pressed it to her lips, and then 
 hid it in her bosom, and I thought a change came 
 over her face ; something of the fearless spirit of 
 Jeanne d'Albret was reflected there, and her tears 
 flowed no more. We spoke then of my mission to 
 Nerac, and the queen gladly accepted the further 
 care of conveying the packet of books thither by 
 her own people. They were to continue their 
 journey on the day following by way of Chatillon 
 in order to have brief conference with Admiral 
 Coligny. The letter of Count Louis of Nassau 
 contained much matter of importance to the Hu 
 guenot interests, and most opportune it seemed that 
 this should have reached her majesty before her 
 visit to Coligny. She then and there hastily wrote 
 a reply which I am presently to deliver. I hear the 
 count is just now at Spa, drinking the waters for 
 his health, and holding conference with Brederode 
 and other patriotic gentlemen for the health of the 
 country.
 
 123 
 
 " But for the matter in hand ! Having thus un 
 expectedly discharged myself of my undertaking, 
 and being saved the journey across all France, to 
 return to you and home suddenly became a joyful 
 possibility. Accordingly I set out not much later 
 for Meaux, which Fritz and 1 reached, tired men 
 with more tired beasts, at cock-crowing of the 
 morning. 
 
 "Here, by the favor of the queen who sent a 
 letter by me, I was hospitably received by a Hu 
 guenot gentleman, the Sieur de Minay, a serious 
 and God-fearing man, and one well learned in the 
 precepts of Maltre Calvin. The morning after we 
 journeyed on to Rouen, and by happy chance found 
 the * Fleur d'<iAuxerre ' ready to set sail. And now 
 what is new here ? Are the placards enforced ? Is 
 the regent still vacillating ? Ah, what is it, Hen- 
 drika ? " for at this moment the servant appeared 
 in the doorway. 
 
 " Shall I bring Mijnheer Droust in ? " she asked. 
 " He asks to see you, master." 
 
 Nikolaas Tontorf rose with an emphatic assent, 
 and advanced to meet a man of tall, meagre figure, 
 who now entered the room. This person, whose 
 garments were of black and of great plainness, but 
 whose worn, gentle countenance bore the stamp 
 of highly developed spiritual faculties, was saluted 
 with great respect and affection by all the family. 
 He was, indeed, the pastor of the secret congrega 
 tion of Middelburg Protestants, known to its mem 
 bers under the mystic name of the Fleur-de-lis, 
 which held its nocturnal meetings in an upper room 
 of the Tontorf printery. 
 
 "I heard at the Kade," said the pastor, "that 
 Mijnheer Tontorf had returned, and so hastened 
 hither. May I have private speech with you if it 
 be not an unkindness thus to withdraw you for a 
 half-hour from these happy people ? " 
 
 Mijnheer Tontorf at once led the pastor out
 
 124 
 
 through the house and across the dark courtyard, 
 for night had fallen, to his own private office. 
 This occupied the space behind the loggia, where 
 the stairs ascended to the room in which Vrouw 
 Tontorf and Juffrouw Helma carried on their dainty 
 handicraft. It was in that same upper room that 
 the secret meetings of the Fleur-de-lis were held. 
 
 The pastor and his host held long and earnest 
 conference regarding the rising tide of religious per 
 secution. Throughout the summer, during which 
 Nikolaas Tontorf had been absent from the Nether 
 lands, the oppressive measures against Protestants 
 had increased in cruelty, until the agitation among 
 the common people was approaching frenzy. 
 
 "Here, my brother," said Pastor Droust, "is a 
 placard which touches you something nearly : 
 
 " 'It is forbidden to write, to print, or to cause to be 
 written or printed, any book whatsoever without per 
 mission of the bishop. If any one does so he shall be 
 put in the pillory ; the executioner shall brand him 
 with hot iron, or he shall pluck out one of his eyes, or 
 cut off one of his hands. For printing TSibles the 
 scaffold or the stake is the penalty.' " 
 
 "Nevertheless," said Tontorf, lifting his hand to 
 call attention, and smiling soberly, " you hear that 
 sound ? " 
 
 While the pastor had been reading a vibration of 
 the floor of the room where they sat had become 
 perceptible, and with it from beneath could now 
 be heard a rhythmic beating sound. 
 
 The pastor looked steadily with a question in his 
 eyes at Tontorf. 
 
 "Nevertheless, we shall print Bibles by night," 
 said the latter quietly, "and scatter them by day." 
 
 " That being so," said Pastor Droust, with a dry 
 smile, "I would like half a dozen to take with me 
 now." 
 
 Without reply Mijnheer Tontorf stepped into a 
 small, inner room, closing the door behind him.
 
 125 
 
 Stooping, the printer pushed away a pile of dusty 
 boxes, and touched a spring in the wall near the 
 floor. Immediately, without noise, a panel slid 
 back, disclosing a small closet piled high with books. 
 A rack of shelves sliding on strong ropes could be 
 drawn up into this place from a similar closet in the 
 subterranean pressroom, which was likewise to be 
 opened only by a secret spring in an invisible panel. 
 
 The existence of this depository was known only 
 to Nikolaas Tontorf and his son Norbert and to the 
 head bookkeeper, the trusted right hand of the great 
 printer. 
 
 A moment later Mijnheer Tontorf returned to the 
 side of Pastor Droust. He handed him the desired 
 number of small, well-bound Bibles. No word was 
 spoken by either until the pastor, having hidden the 
 volumes within his black surtout and reached the 
 outer door, said : 
 
 " And to-morrow night the Fleur-de-lis will meet 
 in the usual place ? " 
 
 " Such would be my desire." 
 
 "Good-night." 
 
 As the pastor emerged upon the narrow lane from 
 the vaulted entrance to the courtyard of the Tontorf 
 establishment, he looked cautiously up and down 
 in the darkness. No one being in sight he drew 
 from his pocket a bit of chalk, and on the rough 
 surface of the wall, with three swift motions of his 
 hand, drew a cross enclosed with a circle, and went 
 his way. 
 
 This was the signal by which the Protestants of 
 Middelburg were summoned to their secret and 
 perilous worship. 
 
 Secrecy, silence, and apprehension of betrayal 
 ruled the day in every condition throughout all 
 Christendom, for alike over convent and court and 
 peaceful burgher dwelling in that year of grace, 
 1565, there brooded a thick cloud of darkness and 
 doom.
 
 XIII 
 
 NASSAU-BREDA 
 
 WITHIN the vast parallelogram of the castle of 
 the Nassaus at Breda, in the magnificent in 
 ner court, stood young Norbert Tontorf in 
 the sunshine of an April afternoon. 
 
 The young Middelburger, taller, sturdier, more 
 deeply bronzed by the two years which have 
 passed, gazed about him in admiring wonder at the 
 Tuscan colonnade surrounding the spacious court, 
 at the gilded medallions and lacelike tracery of the 
 freestone arches, at the imposing octagonal towers 
 flanking the angles, all of which possessed in high 
 degree the harmonious beauty of the best period of 
 the Renaissance. Norbert, who had until now seen 
 no castle finer than that of the abbey at Middel- 
 burg, no domestic interior richer than that of his 
 father's house in the Lange Delft, was keenly alive 
 to the princely grandeur of his present surround 
 ings, and for a moment he had well-nigh forgotten 
 the purpose of his coming. 
 
 A liveried retainer, one of a dozen who loitered 
 about the court, approaching him with a question, 
 the young fellow collected himself and with marked, 
 albeit modest, self-possession made known his de 
 sire to have audience of his excellency, the Prince 
 of Orange, if he were minded to receive him, as he 
 brought a paper which he had been commissioned 
 to deliver into his hand. 
 
 Informed that his excellency was still in Antwerp, 
 Norbert asked if it were known whether he would 
 be likely to come to Breda within a few days. 
 
 The servant made an evasive answer and sug- 
 126
 
 127 
 
 gested that the jonker should leave his paper 
 with him to deliver. Declining to do this, Norbert 
 had turned on his heel to depart, when a sharp tap 
 ping on the window of a room beyond the opposite 
 gallery caught the attention of the servant, and 
 bidding Norbert remain where he was yet a mo 
 ment he hastened to cross to the point from which 
 the sound had proceeded. 
 
 The casement had been hastily pushed open, and 
 from his place Norbert could now see the head and 
 bust of a woman who appeared at the window. 
 Something bizarre and striking in the effect of this 
 personage awoke in him the liveliest interest. The 
 face seen from this distance was marked by a pair 
 of flashing dark eyes, and features irregular but 
 animated, the mouth being full, flexible, and ex 
 pressive of pride, impatience, and impetuous will. 
 A richly jeweled coif and a broad ruff turned away 
 in a point from the throat completed the picture 
 framed in the window. 
 
 Greatly to his amazement Norbert now heard 
 this lady soundly rating the servant in a harsh, 
 metallic voice. 
 
 "What mean you, you fat-witted clown, by 
 sending away messengers without consulting your 
 mistress ? I will have you discharged if such a 
 thing happen again. Who is yonder dammarel ? 
 He is of goodly bearing, and I would fain have 
 speech with him and learn his errand. What say 
 you is his name ? " 
 
 "Your excellency, I do not know the young 
 man's name. He is a stranger in Breda, and as I 
 think by his speech, from the North," said the serv 
 ant respectfully. 
 
 "Which means that he is a shade worse churl 
 than if he were from the South," returned his mis 
 tress. " In any case, send him in hither, Joost. 
 He may amuse me, and i'faith there is scant amuse 
 ment in this dreary place."
 
 128 
 
 The servant hastened back and now conducted 
 Norbert through the colonnade, its walls resplendent 
 with rich gilding and brilliant escutcheons of the 
 great seigneuries of Breda, Orange, Holland, Zee- 
 land, and others of which the prince was the lord. 
 From this cloister the youth was led by a second 
 lackey into the castle and through a series of gal 
 leries of royal stateliness in which groups of gentle 
 men and ladies were listlessly lounging. 
 
 Passing down the length of a salon which glit 
 tered in crystal and silver, they reached at last a 
 small boudoir separated by hangings of magnificent 
 tapestry from the salon and decorated wholly in 
 gold and crimson. 
 
 Stepping under the hangings the servant now 
 ushered Norbert, whose heart beat hard with ex 
 citement, into the presence of the Princess of 
 Orange, and left him alone to sustain an interview 
 for which he had neither taste nor training. 
 
 Reclining in a great arm-chair sat the lady whom 
 he had seen but now in the window and who was, 
 as he had already concluded, albeit with great 
 amazement, none other than the wife of the prince, 
 the daughter of "the great elector," Maurice, of 
 Saxony. 
 
 Dressed in a gown of vivid green satin with 
 bands of rich embroidery much soiled and fretted, 
 her small feet crossed upon a footstool in a careless 
 attitude, her dark eyes half veiled now by the lids, 
 a green parrot perched upon her shoulder, a fan in 
 her hand which she flirted nervously at the parrot, 
 the princess made a yet more equivocal impression 
 upon the young Zeelander, than when seen from 
 the distance. Accustomed to the most delicate 
 orderliness in dress, and the most demure propriety 
 in bearing among the women of his own household 
 and acquaintance, Norbert was almost bewildered 
 by the fantastic freedom of the great lady. 
 
 " Come hither, jonker," she cried, now abruptly
 
 I2 9 
 
 "why stand you bowing there on the threshold 
 as if you were afraid of me ? I am only a young 
 woman after all, and since I have sent for you, 
 you can e'en make bold enough to come hither 
 and kiss my hand," and she laughed shrilly. 
 
 Accordingly Norbert now advanced, knelt and 
 kissed the hand outstretched to him for the pur 
 pose, and as he rose he received the unexpected 
 comment: 
 
 " Very fairly done, jonker, for a country lad 1 
 You may make quite a gallant if you remain long 
 enough in our court here in Breda." 
 
 "Your pardon, madame," said Norbert, looking 
 down respectfully on the princess, but with a little 
 flush of distaste showing in his sun-burned cheeks, 
 " but I am no jonker, but the son of a good burgher 
 of Middelburg, Nikolaas Tontorf, dean of the Guild 
 of Printers." 
 
 " Oh, that is unlucky. How do you come by so 
 elegant a shape, young Sir Printer, and so possessed 
 a bearing ? In good sooth I have hardly seen so 
 knightly a figure since I came among these Flemish 
 boors," and she flashed a smile of flattering co 
 quetry at the young man, whose amazement in 
 creased with every word. 
 
 A flask of wine in a silver standard, together with 
 a bowl of white sugar broken in pieces, and several 
 crystal goblets, stood on a small table near the 
 chair of the princess. She rose now and going to 
 this table filled two glasses. Norbert noted the 
 curious awkwardness of her shape, and of her halt 
 ing gait which had not hitherto been apparent to 
 him. He waited uneasily for what would follow. 
 
 Holding out one of the glasses which he took 
 from her hand perforce, she said : 
 
 " I will not send you away unrefreshed, my lad, 
 though you have the ill luck to be the son of a 
 printer. What is your errand to my lord ? " 
 
 As she carelessly asked the question the princess 
 i
 
 130 
 
 was dipping a piece of sugar into her glass of wine 
 with which she proceeded to feed the green parrot 
 on her shoulder, unheeding the syrupy drops which 
 trickled down on her gown and fingers. 
 
 " I have a paper, so it please your highness, to 
 deliver into his hand," replied Norbert. 
 
 " I trust it is none of these tiresome petitions 
 and manifestoes wherewith we are fairly flooded," 
 said the lady lightly. Then with a sudden sharpness 
 she asked : " Are you a Protestant ? " 
 
 "Yes, madame," replied Norbert sturdily. 
 
 " The worse luck for you," answered the Protes 
 tant princess, turning to the parrot and adding non 
 chalantly, " let me tell you, now while you are 
 young and it is to be hoped not so stubborn as you 
 Dutchmen come to be when you are older, get rid 
 of all this nonsense about Protestantism and 
 Catholicism. The quicker the better ! It's all a 
 miserable mish-mash. It makes no difference which 
 you are in the end. Be what is easy to be and 
 change as often as it is necessary. Above all 
 things, don't get this foolish notion of dying for your 
 religion into your head." 
 
 The princess leaned back, tapping the beak of the 
 bird on her shoulder with her fan while she lux 
 uriously sipped the delicious wine and glanced over 
 the edge of the goblet with a satirical smile of en 
 joyment at the evident perplexity of Norbert. 
 
 " Madame," said the young fellow, who liked his 
 company less and less and yet found a curious 
 fascination in the lady's bright smiles and caressing 
 glances, "if it please your highness to excuse me, 
 I have matters yet to attend to ere nightfall " 
 
 " Go to, go to, now, my young Tontorf, if that be 
 your name ! you like not my rede overmuch, I see, 
 and find the society of the castle unlike that of 
 your bourgeois gossips. You must learn to wait 
 upon a lady's pleasure and never to anticipate her 
 dismissal. But, hark ! What is that ? " and hastily
 
 setting her glass, which was now empty, upon the 
 table, the Princess of Orange crossed to the win 
 dow overlooking the courtyard. 
 
 Norbert stood where she had left him, biting his 
 under lip in vexation and wishing himself well out 
 of the presence. Sounds of hoofs on the courtyard 
 pavement without now reached him, giving token 
 of the arrival of a considerable company. Anne 
 of Saxony turned toward him from the window 
 and nodded blithely : 
 
 "Forty horsemen at least, I should say," she 
 cried. In another moment she turned again : 
 
 " Yes, boy," she said, laughing, " run along now. 
 It is my lord himself, ridden all the way from 
 Antwerp, and he looks vexed and gloomy e'en 
 now. What might he say should he discover that 
 I was en tete-a-tete with a handsome young gallant ? 
 Do thy errand another time. My lord will be in no 
 mood for thee to-day, that I see plainly." 
 
 Norbert, waiting for no second bidding, made 
 haste to leave the apartment and to reach the 
 courtyard. Crossing this he caught a glimpse in 
 passing of a gentleman just dismounted of com 
 manding figure and presence, with face grave and 
 preoccupied, whom he surmised to be none other 
 than that exalted personage to whom the document 
 in his pocket was addressed as : 
 
 Lord and Baron of Breda, Burgrave of Antwerp, 
 Governor General of Holland, Zecland, and Utrecht, 
 Count of Nassau and Cat^enellenbogen, etc., etc., in 
 fine, the puissant Prince of Orange himself. 
 
 At the outer entrance to the castle court Norbert 
 encountered the retainer who had been his guide. 
 The man greeted him with the question : 
 
 " Holloa, Master Middelburger, how came you 
 off ? Did my lady kiss you or curse you ? " 
 
 "Neither the one nor yet the other," Norbert 
 made laughing answer. 
 
 "You are the lucky man, then," was the rejoin-
 
 132 
 
 der, and Norbert went his way back into the town, 
 where he was lodging with his sister, Jacqueline, 
 in the house of their father's sister, Vrouw Van 
 Marie. 
 
 The commission on which he had been sent by 
 his father and other patriotic citizens of Middelburg 
 to the Prince of Orange, was one of more than 
 passing importance, and the young man was him 
 self deeply imbued with its purpose. 
 
 The year 1567 was one of greatest crisis and up 
 heaval in the Netherlands. The Inquisition, now 
 thoroughly established, was spreading its terrors 
 everywhere, but the iconoclastic fury of the Ant 
 werp mob and the petition of "the Beggars," 
 showed the king of Spain that the spirit of revolt 
 was stirring alike the high and low. In boundless 
 rage, Philip resolved upon a fearful and summary 
 punishment. 
 
 In pursuance of his plan, an army of splendid 
 organization and discipline, veterans of Spain, under 
 the merciless Alva, was even now marshaling at 
 Genoa and preparing for its long march across 
 Europe into the Netherlands. Alva was to super 
 sede the Duchess of Parma as governor general. 
 The black death itself could not be dreaded as a 
 more awful scourge than were Alva and his army. 
 
 A personal and immediate test of the absolute 
 fealty of the Netherlandish nobles, and of their will 
 ingness to uphold the Inquisition, was meanwhile 
 made by Philip in the following oath of allegiance, 
 which every Knight of the Fleece was imperatively 
 required by his sovereign to sign : 
 
 "As the king, our sire, in consideration of the 
 troublous times and of the rebellious spirit that is 
 abroad in the land has charged Madame, the Duchess 
 of Parma and Governor General of these lands in his 
 Majesty's behalf, to demand a declaration from every 
 person in office as to his intention to carry out his 
 Majesty's will without limitation or restriction,
 
 133 
 
 / Knight of the Order, etc., hav 
 ing received the said command, now declare by oath 
 that I am ready to serve him and to carry out his 
 orders to all persons without limitation or restric 
 tion." 
 
 It had become known to Nikolaas Tontorf that 
 the Prince of Orange, at the time representing the 
 regent in Antwerp, which was a very hotbed of 
 troubles, had refused to take this oath, had resigned 
 his commission, and had withdrawn his young 
 daughter, Marie, from the court of the duchess at 
 Brussels. 
 
 Although Catholic and supposedly attached to 
 the government, the profound penetration and mod 
 erate views of Orange, his enormous popularity 
 with the people, his great political power and vast 
 wealth made him the only man who by any possi 
 bility could lead the patriot forces of the Nether 
 lands in a revolutionary movement against the in 
 tolerable tyranny of Spain. 
 
 Fired by the hope that the prince might at the 
 moment be accessible to such a proposition, Ton 
 torf and certain of his fellow-patriots in Zeeland 
 had addressed a fervent letter of appeal to him to 
 place himself immediately at their head and, in the 
 four months which must yet intervene before the 
 arrival of Alva, to organize and train the forces of 
 the opposition. 
 
 Such was the letter, such the appeal which young 
 Tontorf had come to Breda to deliver to the Prince 
 of Orange. 
 
 Meanwhile the prince, having retired to his pri 
 vate apartments to refresh himself after the dusty 
 ride from Antwerp, appeared presently in the grand 
 salon of the castle, where with looks alert and ex 
 pectant the gentlemen and ladies of his suite were 
 gathered, awaiting his coming. 
 
 Eight years have passed since that June which 
 saw the prince the hostage and guest of Henry II.
 
 134 
 
 at Vincennes. The brilliant youth has become the 
 powerful diplomat, the foremost statesman of the 
 Court of Brussels, the man of all men in the 
 Netherlands whom the King of Spain must reckon 
 with. 
 
 Dressed now in a court costume of blue and sil 
 ver, with a broad, transparent ruff, his orders on 
 his breast, his face somewhat grave and careworn 
 by the sleepless anxieties of the present time, but 
 still gracious and commanding, the prince turned 
 from one to another with a brief word to each, the 
 courtly grace of his manner, the winning sweet 
 ness of his expression exerting the same spell that 
 had been so potent in his younger years. Every 
 lady was eager to commend herself to his notice 
 by the brightness of her smile, every gentleman 
 of his suite sought to hold himself with the knightly 
 firmness of his lord, and thus a sudden revival of 
 energy and animation possessed the company, but 
 now so dull and lack-lustre. The prince did not 
 linger long, however, but hastened on to present 
 himself to his wife. 
 
 As he entered the boudoir at the end of the 
 salon a motion of his hand summoned a servant, 
 who at once dropped a heavy curtain until now 
 drawn aside, thus indicating the desire for privacy. 
 The salon adjoining was then quickly forsaken by 
 the ladies and gentlemen in attendance and the 
 prince was left alone with his wife. She sat where 
 she had sat to receive young Tontorf, nor did she 
 rise from her seat to receive her husband, but he 
 advanced unheeding this and bent to kiss her with 
 words of gentle solicitude for her health and com 
 fort. 
 
 The wine flask on the table stood empty now. 
 The green parrot had retired to a perch in the cor 
 ner of the boudoir, where it sat with filming, stupid 
 eyes and ruffled plumage. 
 
 "What excitement have you in Antwerp this
 
 135 
 
 time, monsieur ? " asked the princess coolly, the 
 first greeting over ; " fresh riots and insurrections ? 
 You are at least alive, it seems." 
 
 " Antwerp has been quiet," returned the prince, 
 "and I have had leisure more than I liked even to 
 confer with the regent's secretary." 
 
 "Oh, then, you have consented to see Master 
 Berty again ! I hope you will tell me that this time 
 you have listened to reason." 
 
 The prince smiled slightly, but did not reply. 
 
 " For heaven's sake, monsieur, answer me ! " 
 cried Anne, her voice shrill with sudden excite 
 ment. " Have you at last taken that tiresome 
 oath and ended all the coil ? " 
 
 " No, dear child," said Orange gently, " I cannot 
 take an oath which might oblige me to use harsh 
 measures first of all against my own wife because 
 she is Protestant. You hardly wish me to do that, 
 I think ? " 
 
 As he asked the question the prince was stand 
 ing before his wife, looking down into her face. 
 He noted with a dull pang the careless, wine- 
 stained dress, the flushed face and unsteady hands, 
 more than all, the coarse defiance on the full, sen 
 sual lips. Never had her aspect been so heedless 
 or so repellent to him as at this moment, when he 
 was at a crisis of all his worldly fortunes, which 
 should have appealed supremely to her sympathy 
 and solicitude. 
 
 "You are aware, my wife," he said slowly, 
 repressing his distaste for further converse, "that 
 soon now we shall have the Duke of Alva to deal 
 with in place of the Duchess of Parma." 
 
 "What do I care for Alva ? " cried Anne, with a 
 toss of her head, " let me have just one chance at 
 him and see who will win ! I would like nothing 
 better than to try my hand with a man of his 
 mettle. He would be game worth hunting," and 
 she laughed with absurd complacence.
 
 136 
 
 The prince looked at her in grave wonder. Was 
 she in very deed so infatuated as to suppose that 
 her charms were sufficient to subdue the iron duke 
 and to turn aside from her his fanatical purpose ? 
 Or was all this bravado the effect of the wine she 
 had been drinking ? 
 
 " Has Aerschot taken the oath ? " she now asked 
 abruptly. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And Berlaymont and Mansfeld have they? " 
 
 " Both, madame." 
 
 "Ah, by my faith, then they are less fearsome 
 than my lord ! " with which taunting comment 
 she rose from her place and began to pace the 
 room with her halting, irregular steps, Orange 
 standing the while, his arms crossed upon his 
 breast, his eyes fixed straight before him, his lips 
 slightly compressed. 
 
 " Egmont he was not faint-hearted, I'll wager. 
 He was ever a soldier. He signed, of course ? " 
 
 " Egmont has taken the oath, madame," was the 
 steady reply, the insult passing unmarked. 
 
 Anne's face grew crimson, and her eyes flashed 
 stormily. 
 
 " I'll warrant he has ! " she cried, her voice ris 
 ing almost to a scream, for her jeaJousy of the wife 
 of Egmont amounted well-nigh to mania. " My 
 Lady Egmont then can brave it out at court more 
 gayly than ever, with no one to give her the lessons 
 she needs for her brazen impudence." 
 
 "I greatly fear me, madame," said Orange, 
 wholly unimpassioned but with a deeper serious 
 ness than he had shown before, " that the Countess 
 Egmont will have but brief time for gayety. The 
 court of Alva will be something grim methinks, 
 and the shadow may fall soonest on the lightest 
 hearts." 
 
 " Oh, prate not to me of your fears and doubts ! " 
 cried his wife, who stood now confronting him with
 
 137 
 
 fiery eyes, her hands unconsciously opening and 
 closing her fan with incredible rapidity. " I have 
 heard enough of monsieur's fears. Have the good 
 ness to let me hear his purposes. Where am I to 
 be taken, since we are now to play the part of cow 
 ards and run away from the new regime? " 
 
 "We shall all depart within a week for Dillen- 
 burg," said the prince as quietly as before. " My 
 dear mother and my brother John have large 
 hearts and hospitality, and have bidden me make 
 their castle our home until the troubles are over." 
 
 " Dillenburg ! " shrieked Anne, and burst into a 
 wild volley of derisive laughter. " Dillenburg ! The 
 daughter of the great elector is to take her place 
 now forsooth as a guest on sufferance of a family 
 of commoners! On my honor, my lord, this is 
 carrying things too far ! Not a step will I go to 
 Dillenburg ! I did not marry a petty squire of Nas 
 sau. I was made to believe at least that my con 
 sort was a sovereign prince, and I, poor gull, fancied 
 in him the heart and courage of a prince," and 
 almost beside herself in her paroxysm of envenomed 
 fury, Anne tore the fan in her hand in twain and 
 broke the slender sticks to slivers. 
 
 The prince watched her for an instant with 
 speechless sadness. When her rage began to abate 
 in part he said, sternly : 
 
 "Madame, to confer with you is impossible. 
 Much as I regret it I am forced instead to command. 
 You will prepare yourself and our children for the 
 journey, and give such orders in the household as 
 are necessary, looking to our departure a week 
 hence. Adieu," and he turned and left the room. 
 
 No sooner had the curtain fallen upon him, than 
 Anne threw herself in a passion of tears into the 
 arm-chair. She was subdued and controlled at last 
 by the strong mastery of her husband's nature, the 
 nobility of which was at all times a source of irri 
 tation to her by reason of its contrast with her own
 
 138 
 
 petty and sordid selfishness. Hating him in some 
 moods, there were others in which this strangely or 
 ganized woman could gladly have thrown herself 
 in servile fawning at his feet. 
 
 As he passed through the great salon adjoining 
 his wife's boudoir, a young girl, tall and slender, 
 with the deep brown eyes and the aristocratic grace 
 of person of the prince, advanced swiftly to meet 
 him with a smile of radiant sweetness. 
 
 "Ah, little daughter Marie," he said low and 
 fondly as he kissed her, " thou hast returned to be 
 sure. What a heart's ease is the sight of thee to 
 a weary man ! " 
 
 No word told of the heart-sickening reception he 
 had encountered at the hands of Marie's step 
 mother, but the child had weathered full many a 
 storm of like nature, and understood. 
 
 " We go all together to Dillenburg in a few days, 
 Marie," said the prince, holding the young girl ten 
 derly against him, and pressing his lips upon her 
 forehead, as if the contact with her delicate purity 
 were a source of refreshment to body and spirit. 
 " Will the change be irksome after the gay life thou 
 hast led in the attendance upon the duchess ? " 
 
 "Nay, father dear," cried the maiden, "I am 
 most joyful to think that at last I shall see my dear 
 grandmother, and all the uncles and cousins of 
 whom I have heard so much and seen so little. 
 Dillenburg will be far, far better than Brussels. I 
 have never liked the court overmuch, and as for 
 the duchess " 
 
 The prince placed his finger on her lips and shook 
 his head in playful warning. 
 
 " Nay, little daughter, speak not over freely of 
 those in authority. Silence is safest," he said, and 
 smiled. 
 
 A little later, in the princely banqueting hall of 
 the castle, William of Orange took his place at the 
 head of his table, surrounded by the gentlemen and
 
 139 
 
 ladies of his suite. The absence of the princess 
 was so common an occurrence as to pass without 
 remark. The supper was served with more than 
 royal magnificence on gold plate of marvelous rich 
 ness, while the cookery was a miracle of perfec 
 tion. The attendants were exclusively pages of 
 noble birth, one of whom presented the napkin to 
 the prince as he sat down with graceful ceremony. 
 With the superb self-mastery which won for him 
 his name, the prince banished on this occasion, the 
 eve of a crucial turning-point in his life, every 
 trace of anxiety and every shade of disturbance, 
 and led the conversation with the grace and charm 
 for which he was throughout his life distinguished.
 
 XIV 
 
 THE GREAT REBEL 
 
 " A ND you have already written a final letter to 
 
 /\ the king ? " 
 
 It was a young cavalier clad in light 
 armor, a man of slender, spirited figure, with fair 
 hair, flashing blue eyes and clear-cut features, who 
 spoke thus to the prince on the following morning. 
 They sat together in the cabinet of Orange in the 
 castle at Breda. 
 
 "Yes, Louis. The duel is begun. My letter 
 went by special post from Antwerp two days 
 since." 
 
 The prince spoke freely and without restraint, for 
 the young soldier, who listened with kindling and 
 responsive face, was Count Louis of Nassau, his 
 best-beloved younger brother, just arrived with let 
 ters and dispatches from Germany. 
 
 "I told his majesty," continued the prince, 
 " that to take the new oath was for me impossible, 
 and that I had therefore no choice but to withdraw 
 from his active service, while I should always re 
 main his loyal servant in all which I believed could 
 rightly promote his cause." 
 
 " Bold words and fearless, but, as you say, final." 
 
 " Most surely. They constitute me, from his 
 majesty's point of view, a rebel." 
 
 " And such you are," said Louis, with the accent 
 of solemn but welcome conviction. The day for 
 which he had waited long was come at last. 
 
 " And such I am," repeated the prince, rising and 
 pacing the room, his face full of intense mental 
 concentration. 
 140
 
 " I have sought for half a dozen years to hold a 
 via media," he said slowly, "to bring to some com 
 mon ground the will of the king and the liberties 
 of the people, to serve the one while protecting the 
 other. But the time is over for such efforts and 
 such hopes. Both king and people have reached 
 the verge of an open and irreconcilable rupture. 
 The conflict is even now on, for Alva has already 
 started on his march. The time for temporizing 
 and middle courses is past. It is war to the knife 
 now, or abject submission to an infernal tyranny." 
 
 " The last it cannot be ; but who shall lead this 
 people in their righteous cause, my brother ? Con 
 sider their helplessness," and the eyes of Louis 
 were fixed on the strong face of his brother with 
 fervent appeal. 
 
 " To lead them against the greatest military 
 power of Europe, without other resource than the 
 land itself can give, is only to throw one's self reck 
 lessly into a bottomless abyss, as did the hapless 
 young Marnix of Thoulouse last month," replied 
 the prince. " If the Protestants of France, of Ger 
 many, or of England, will join with us, something 
 may yet be done." 
 
 " As I live, something shall be done ! " cried the 
 younger brother impulsively, " and that right early. 
 It is for this cause that I am here at this moment 
 with that letter from the landgrave which you have 
 not yet read, and why two hours hence I must be 
 galloping on toward Cleves. I ride and I ride, from 
 camp to court, and from the Calvinists of France to 
 the Lutherans of Germany, if by any means I can 
 win some to our side." 
 
 A smile in which was an unmistakable touch of 
 weariness passed over the face of Orange. 
 
 " The Calvinists deplore your Lutheran sympa 
 thies and the Lutherans give you excellent advice 
 and copious draughts of theology, but they tell you 
 that their consciences forbid their aiding our people
 
 142 
 
 while they persist in following the errors of Calvin. 
 Is it not so ? Without the Augsburg Confession we 
 would better die than live. That is the old story. 
 How well I know it. While our helpless people are 
 being butchered and burned by the hundred, and 
 whole towns laid level with the ground, those fel 
 low-Protestants, fellow-Christians, will stand aloof 
 and argue points of theology, split hairs too fine to 
 see, instead of coming in hearty brotherhood to 
 their defense. Ah, my Louis, I may not be an 
 over-rigid Catholic, but I protest to you these fine 
 distinctions and endless wars of words between 
 the various groups of the Protestants make a man 
 think twice before he leaves the old for the new. 
 Why can they all not unite in one body ? Their 
 differences are not great enough to divide them." 
 
 " So it seems to us, my brother ; but these con 
 victions are honest and deep with those who hold 
 them and we must have patience." 
 
 "Yes, patience without end," said the prince 
 with strong emphasis ; " and by my faith we shall 
 have need of all we can muster before we see this 
 matter through to a close ; but I give you warning, 
 and through you to all the forces of the Protestant 
 faith with which you are ever in touch, never, never 
 shall one feather's weight of my influence go toward 
 building up a new tyranny in place of the old. A 
 Protestant despotism is not a whit better than a 
 Catholic, and if I read aright these endless, petty 
 bickerings, it might prove even more contemptible. 
 There is room, my brother, on this broad earth for 
 the old faith and the new. The one thing for 
 which there is neither place nor pardon is any con 
 straint whatsoever regarding the form in which a 
 man's conscience leads him to worship God, so long 
 as it is conformable to good morals. This I will 
 maintain," and the prince as he quoted the motto 
 of his house with the emphasis of unalterable reso 
 lution, showed for the moment that iron will whose
 
 143 
 
 shape was oftenest disguised beneath the courteous 
 grace of his demeanor. 
 
 Louis looked with wonder and even with con 
 sternation at his brother, for these words were such 
 as no other man of his time had spoken. Both 
 Catholics and Protestants held coercion and re 
 pression of the opposite form of faith as their law 
 ful prerogative and even as their sacred right and 
 duty. 
 
 "You go far, sir," he said gently; "even the 
 Queen of Navarre, the noblest and the bravest 
 queen in Christendom to-day, while she suffers not 
 persecution in her realm, forbids the idolatrous wor 
 ship of the mass within its borders, and does so 
 justly, it seems to me." 
 
 The prince smiled sadly. 
 
 " I trust the Queen of Navarre will live long 
 enough to see her error, Louis," he replied, "but 
 such courage as hers invites an early death. But 
 tell me, have you still that letter which she sent 
 to you by the printer of Middelburg from some con 
 vent, if I remember, near Meaux ? " 
 
 " Nay, for safety's sake I destroy all letters of 
 such nature speedily. I can tell you, sir, however, 
 the matter it contained." 
 
 " It dealt, if I remember, with the Bayonne con 
 ference, and was written during that same summer, 
 well-nigh two years since, when you were at Spa?" 
 
 " Yes. It gave me that pregnant saying of the 
 Duke of Alva to the queen-mother, overheard by 
 Prince Henri, 'better one salmon than ten thou 
 sand frogs.' It may be well to recall that in these 
 days." 
 
 The prince bent his head gravely and looked with 
 musing intentness into the face of Louis. 
 
 " Ah, if it were but in my power rightly to read 
 that word to Egmont ! " he exclaimed presently 
 with emphasis. 
 
 " Egmont ! " cried Louis of Nassau impatiently.
 
 144 
 
 "He is impossible! He takes to Spanish honey as 
 if it were a very nectar. Have you seen him of 
 late, sir ? " 
 
 " I have seen him, alas, to the best of my belief 
 for the last time. We met a week ago at Wille- 
 broek, met and parted. Nothing can shake his con 
 fidence, not so much, I think, in the king, of whose 
 perfidy he has had full many a proof, but in him 
 self, in his star, in his brilliant and conquering ca 
 reer. Can such a favorite of fortune, the hero of 
 St. Quentin and of Gravelines, the idol of the 
 army, good Catholic and royalist to the core, can 
 such a man be made seriously to feel his monarch's 
 displeasure ? He scorns the suggestion. On the 
 bitter jealousy of Alva at his military success he 
 will not reflect." 
 
 "And Horn?" 
 
 " Horn stands with Egmont, also Mansfeld and all 
 the leaders. I remain to-day strangely alone, for I 
 only among the regent's councillors have refused 
 to take the oath." 
 
 " But this being so you surely cannot now re 
 main here ? " 
 
 "My life is already, in Philip's sight, forfeit; 
 that is a foregone issue, and Alva's creed as given 
 at Bayonne has long been familiar to me. But 
 were there no menace to life or liberty, think you, 
 Louis, I would stay on the spot to take my com 
 mands from Alva henceforth ? Sooner would I en 
 gage to serve the devil himself ! He at least can 
 play the part of a gentleman on occasion." 
 
 The prince spoke with unwonted and imperious 
 passion in which perhaps was mingled secret disap 
 pointment of his own cherished ambition to succeed 
 to the governor-generalship of the country. 
 
 After a moment of silence, Louis rejoined ear 
 nestly : "You are far too powerful, my lord, for 
 this action regarding the oath to be passed over. 
 That is clear. Moreover, you have a personal
 
 145 
 
 enemy not less malignant and determined than 
 Alva himself Granvelle. He has the ear of Philip, 
 and is behind Alva and his army. Four years ago 
 he warned the king that you were a dangerous 
 man, having unbounded influence with the people, 
 and given to keeping your own counsel, while Eg- 
 mont, he said, was harmless, being vacillating, in 
 credibly vain, and open to flattery." 
 
 " Was that, in sooth, his judgment ? " asked Or 
 ange, with manifest interest. "The cardinal did 
 Egmont scant justice." 
 
 " And you have ever done him more than jus 
 tice, my lord " 
 
 At this word Louis was interrupted by a light 
 knocking on the door of the cabinet, and at the 
 summons of the prince a page appeared, saying 
 with great deference : 
 
 " Monseigneur, will it be your pleasure to see the 
 young Tontorf of Middelburg at the time appointed? 
 He has waited now for an hour, and will go and re 
 turn later if such is your preference." 
 
 "Marry, I had clean forgot the lad !" said the 
 prince rising. 
 
 " Tontorf ! " exclaimed Louis. " And from Mid 
 delburg ? I know the youth well, by name. He 
 has trained troops for me in Walcheren these two 
 years past. I have work for him, and a captain's 
 commission will be his ere long if he is of the met 
 tle I think." 
 
 " Would you choose to see him now ? " asked 
 the prince. " The time is short." 
 
 " Short, indeed, but nevertheless have him in. I 
 have many questions to ask concerning Zeeland, 
 and if the fellow has his father's intelligence, he 
 may be exceeding useful." 
 
 " As you please," said Orange ; then turning to 
 the page: "Send in the young man, but bid the 
 groom saddle two horses at once for Count Louis 
 and myself." 
 
 K
 
 146 
 
 Then, as the page withdrew, he remarked with a 
 smile to his brother : 
 
 " We will have one last gallop together, sir, 
 through the dear old park. Who knows when you 
 and I may meet again in Breda ? " 
 
 A shadow clouded the animated face of Louis for 
 an instant. Did some voice whisper within him, 
 Never ? 
 
 Then entered the room Norbert Tontorf, his tall, 
 well-knit figure set off to advantage by a slashed 
 doublet and hose of hunter's green, his shapely 
 head uncovered, his alert grace enhanced by the 
 mingled bashfulness and boldness which the mo 
 ment aroused in him. 
 
 The Nassaus received his obeisance graciously, 
 and Louis exclaimed with frank comradery : 
 
 " Now tell me, young sir, are you the son of my 
 good friend of Middelburg, Nikolaas Tontorf ? " 
 
 " I am, my lord," was the reply. 
 
 " Nay, then shake hands and let us be friends," 
 cried the impetuous Louis; "for if the son be like 
 the father there is not in all Zeeland a sturdier patriot 
 nor a more courageous." Then turning to his bro 
 ther, Louis added : 
 
 " Mijnheer Tontorf, my lord, has traveled up 
 and down through Flanders and through France in 
 one disguise and another, distributing Bibles and 
 hymnals of his own printing, carrying letters and 
 dispatches between the Huguenot leaders and their 
 brethren in the Low Countries, and proving himself 
 in all ways a discreet, fearless, and patriotic gen 
 tleman. I count it a rare pleasure to meet his son, 
 of whose service I have spoken but now, and to 
 make him known to you, sir." 
 
 The prince took Norbert by the hand and looked 
 for a moment in his face, while the youth, with 
 reverent yet fearless gaze, met that searching glance 
 which had power to pierce through the outer mask 
 and divine the hearts of men.
 
 147 
 
 "You are welcome to Breda, Norbert Tontorf," 
 said the prince, as if satisfied with what he read. 
 " I would gladly hear of you much concerning our 
 compatriots in Zeeland, but at present time fails us 
 for conference. You bring me a letter ? " 
 
 Norbert, with a low bow, placed in the hand of 
 the prince the petition of his father and was about 
 to withdraw, but Count Louis detained him with a 
 question. 
 
 " Tontorf, I have a word for your ear," he said ; 
 " you are already in training for a soldier. Would 
 you like to enter the service of my brother and my 
 self presently ? There will be work on hand for 
 every loyal Dutchman ere long." 
 
 Norbert's face flushed high. 
 
 "Nothing could be better to my mind than to 
 serve the house of Nassau, and, with that, the 
 cause of our country. Command me, sir, if 1 seem 
 to you deserving of such honor." 
 
 "Why not ride with me even now, to-day, back 
 to Germany ? " cried Louis. " There is need 
 enough of young, active fellows of leal heart like 
 you to carry dispatches hither and yon. Later 
 there will be sterner business in plenty." 
 
 Norbert's heart bounded with the eager desire to 
 follow the dashing and enthusiastic nobleman on 
 the spur of the moment, but the thought of the two 
 fold nature of the errand on which he was bound 
 constrained him. 
 
 " With all my heart would I join you at once, 
 my lord," he replied with embarrassment, "but I 
 am at this time on my way to Antwerp, sent thither 
 by my parents with my young sister. She has a 
 grievous malady of the eyes, and we are forced to 
 consult a famous physician of Antwerp, one Hoek- 
 stra. I cannot leave the little maid, I fear, until I 
 have discharged this duty. May I still hope that 
 you will receive my service when this is accom 
 plished ? "
 
 148 
 
 " Of a surety," said Louis. "Come when you 
 are ready and 1 will enroll you among the men of 
 my escort." 
 
 The prince, who had been carefully perusing the 
 letter of Nikolaas Tontorf, now laid it down and 
 said with musing seriousness : 
 
 " You may tell your father, my young sir, that I 
 have read his appeal with deepest sympathy. I 
 am honored by the confidence which such men as 
 he evince toward me. The extremity of our coun 
 try lies heavily on my heart, and I believe that the 
 time for resistance will come. To act over-soon 
 and without resources will be to lose all and gain 
 nothing. This much he and all who look to me 
 may believe when the time comes for action I shall 
 act. So much for your father. For yourself, I like 
 your face and the vigor of your manhood and your 
 youth. I can use you. If you are foot-loose next 
 week, next month, or at any future time, seek me 
 out in Dillenburg. If I am not there, this jonker," 
 and he threw his arm affectionately over Louis' 
 shoulder, " is like to be, or some Nassau of us, and 
 we are all one. Farewell," and with the last word 
 the prince and Louis preceded Norbert from the 
 cabinet. 
 
 When the latter reached the courtyard he saw 
 the brothers as they mounted the prancing thor 
 oughbreds which had been awaiting them and gal 
 loped off through an arched gateway into the vast 
 reaches of the green park beyond, which with its 
 abundant game, was one of the famous features of 
 Breda Castle. 
 
 As he crossed the bridge over the castle moat 
 Norbert encountered a personage with whose ap 
 pearance he was already familiar, as he had passed 
 the previous night at the house of Mijnheer Van 
 Marie, Norbert's uncle, having come from Antwerp 
 in the train of the prince. This man, whose age 
 was something more than thirty years, wore the
 
 149 
 
 rich but sober attire of a Flemish alderman. He 
 was of florid complexion, with a handsome face and 
 huge, curling, reddish moustachios, and he bore him 
 self with easy confidence and conscious importance. 
 
 " Ha, my young friend," he cried, on seeing Nor- 
 bert, " have you prospered with your mission ? It 
 is my turn now to have speech of his highness. 
 Know you yet if that is true, which rumor says, 
 that the family is about breaking up to start for 
 Germany ? " 
 
 " I have no information, Mijnheer Rubens, on that 
 matter," said Norbert, somewhat briefly, having 
 already learned that it was best not to discuss the 
 affairs of his betters, and he hurried down into the 
 town, while the councillor l from Antwerp went on 
 his way into the castle. 
 
 Crossing the wide Kasteel plein Norbert now 
 passed under the shadow of the Groote Kerk, with 
 its noble Gothic tower, already hoary with age. 
 Within, in the dim shadows, were the imposing 
 monuments of the Nassaus, the famous forerun 
 ners of the two men whose princely favor had been 
 now so signally shown to him. Norbert had often 
 stood with awe and veneration to gaze at the ma 
 jestic war-lords, whose statues surrounded the tomb 
 of old Engelbert II., and more than all at the impos 
 ing face and figure of Cassar. At this moment, in 
 the passion of devotion with which William of Nas 
 sau had inspired him, he said to himself, glancing 
 through the open portal of the great church : 
 
 " A greater than Caesar is here ! " 
 
 Mijnheer Van Marie, to whose hospitable home 
 Norbert now hastened, was a barrister of some 
 standing in Breda. His wife, a younger sister of 
 Nikolaas Tontorf, resembled the Middelburg printer 
 in the thoughtful repose of her countenance. She 
 was of gentle and matronly presence and little Jac- 
 
 1 Father of the famous painter, Peter Paul Rubens.
 
 150 
 
 queline found the comfort she needed in her suffer 
 ings, in her motherly care. 
 
 " And which of these grands seigneurs found you 
 the finer gentleman ? " asked Vrouw Van Marie, 
 when Norbert had rehearsed his interview with the 
 Prince of Orange and the Count of Nassau. 
 
 "Either one is a man one could follow right 
 gladly," said Norbert thoughtfully. "Count Louis 
 sets you on fire with those clear, flashing blue eyes, 
 and that joyous, gallant ardor of his, but Prince 
 William is on a greater plan. You feel in him 
 the master of men, the majesty of authority and 
 power." 
 
 "Were you not afraid of him then, Norbert ? " 
 asked little Jacqueline. 
 
 "Oh, yes, afraid as I could be, for I knew that 
 he read me through to the last thought and intent 
 of my heart. And then he is the order of man 
 whose displeasure methinks would be terrible, but 
 whose favor would be worth dying to win. It was 
 the proudest moment I ever knew, little sister, when 
 he asked me to join his service. Oh, I am his ! I 
 belong to him with every drop of blood in my 
 body, and am eager now to go forth to do battle 
 for my prince, my land, and my lady ! " 
 
 Norbert in his young enthusiasm had gone far 
 beyond his wonted reserve in this outburst and his 
 color deepened as Vrouw Van Marie said playfully : 
 
 "May we be so bold as to ask who is the 
 lady ? " 
 
 " I know, "said little Jacqueline, laying her head 
 down on Norbert's shoulder, " do I not, brother ? It 
 is the white abbess, a lovely, hapless princess 
 away off in France somewhere, whom Norbert 
 vowed to rescue from her enemies if ever the chance 
 should come to him. He even wears her device, 
 the three fleurs-de-lis royal on a field azure which I 
 embroidered on a scarf of white silk for him before 
 my eyes became so painful. My father alone has
 
 seen her, but we all would gladly serve her if we 
 could and Norbert most of all." 
 
 " How very pretty and romantic ! I shall hope 
 to hear that our young knight prospers when he 
 fares forth on such an errand, and that he may not 
 be forced to wait overlong." 
 
 " Perhaps you will have to serve the Princess of 
 Orange now, dear brother," said Jacqueline. "Is 
 she worthy of so noble a lord ? " 
 
 There was no reply, but presently Vrouw Van 
 Marie said musingly: 
 
 " Pity is it that madame the princess seems not 
 to feel for the prince aught of the devotion which 
 he awakens in all others." 
 
 Norbert glanced up quickly. His curiosity re 
 garding the enigmatical personality of Anne of 
 Saxony was all the more keenly aroused since he 
 had met the prince. 
 
 " How chances it that the princess is so strangely 
 perverse ? " he asked. 
 
 " An enormous vanity," replied his aunt, "is at 
 
 the bottom of much of her waywardness " but 
 
 at that moment a door was opened, and Master 
 Rubens entered the room. 
 
 " Ah, you have come just in time, mijnheer," 
 said Vrouw Van Marie ; " we are about sitting down 
 for our noonday meal." 
 
 The Antwerp councillor expressed his hearty 
 satisfaction in the fact, and as the little company 
 gathered about the bountiful table, he exclaimed, 
 with palpable complacence : 
 
 "Master Norbert, I know not how it fared with 
 you at the castle, but for me I have got that which I 
 came for." 
 
 " Then you had the good fortune to see his high 
 ness? " asked Norbert, concealing a slight surprise. 
 
 " Nay, you are wrong there, my lad. I saw not 
 my lord, but I had the good luck to see my lady, 
 who is, it mayhap, easier of access. His highness is
 
 152 
 
 too much the grand seigneur to suit a man of my 
 kidney. Now the princess is a frank, free-hearted 
 lady, and though she be the great elector's daugh 
 ter, has a good word for a man, even if he be but a 
 plain citizen." 
 
 " And the princess was able to bestow what you 
 came for, mijnheer ? " asked Vrouw Van Marie. 
 
 " Now you are all a little curious, I dare say, good 
 people, as to what brought me hither just now, since 
 I have no pretext of business with my friend Van 
 Marie," began Rubens, looking about him with 
 patronizing familiarity. " Between old acquaint 
 ances and -fellow-Protestants like ourselves, what 
 need of concealment ? Be it known then, that 
 since the image-breaking in the Church of Our Lady 
 and other Antwerp churches, suspicion has fallen 
 upon our aldermen and magistrates of having been 
 at least not over-zealous in restraining the mob. It 
 has come to my knowledge that my name stands 
 on a black-list which in due time will find its way 
 into the hands of the new governor, Alva. 
 
 " This being so, it behooves Jan Rubens to seek 
 some new haven where he may perchance employ 
 his legal abilities to earn an honest living and pro 
 vide for wife and child in peace and quietness, out 
 of reach of the long arms of the duke. What could 
 be more reasonable than for this same Antwerp 
 councillor," and Rubens touched his capacious chest 
 with a gesture of satisfaction in his own sagacity, 
 " to attach himself in some sort to the fortunes of 
 monseigneur, the prince, who is himself about de 
 parting from Spanish soil, where in truth his head 
 would remain but few weeks longer on his shoulders! 
 
 "Very well ; my lord being off in the park with 
 his brother, I made bold to crave audience of my 
 lady, and to tell her frankly of my errand. She 
 encouraged me to follow their court and establish 
 myself as a retainer of the house of Orange when 
 they are settled."
 
 153 
 
 " Did madame, the princess, tell you where the 
 family was to be established ? " asked Mijnheer 
 Van Marie, who had listened to the narration of 
 Rubens with a somewhat sardonic smile. 
 
 " After a time in Cologne. But they are to go 
 for a few months, her highness told me, on a visit 
 to the ancestral castle at Dillenburg. She went so 
 far as to confide in me that country life among so 
 many brothers and sisters-in-law would be little to 
 her liking and she should return to Cologne at the 
 earliest time she could compass. I shall be there 
 awaiting her," added the councillor with a flattered 
 and unctuous smile, " ready to throw myself and 
 my humble devotion at her feet." With this, and 
 a little flourish, Rubens rose from the table. 
 
 " Mijnheer Van Marie," he said, " my errand in 
 Breda is done. I see no reason now for lingering 
 longer. Will you send a knecht down to the Gooden 
 Leeuw and order my groom to get the horses ready 
 to start at once ? " 
 
 " Is it not somewhat late in the day to begin the 
 journey to Antwerp ? " asked his host. 
 
 " And the sky is dark and lowering " added 
 Vrouw Van Marie. 
 
 " My aunt," cried Norbert, with sudden resolu 
 tion, " like Master Rubens my errand in Breda is 
 done. What should hinder me, if he is willing, to 
 avail myself of his escort, to proceed on my journey 
 with Jacqueline. The cloudy sky suits her weak 
 vision better than sunshine. Going now we will 
 save taxing you for escort, and we shall be even to 
 night at our journey's end." 
 
 Little could be said against a project so mani 
 festly judicious, and Master Rubens welcoming the 
 companionship of the young Tontorfs with careless 
 good-will, the three shortly set out on stout horses, 
 accompanied by the groom of the councillor, to ride 
 the thirty miles of level road which stretched be 
 tween Breda and the good city of Antwerp.
 
 XV 
 IN THE HOUSE OF STRANGERS 
 
 " r ~pHERE, little sister, it is even here on this 
 
 very spot that his grace, the Prince of 
 
 Orange, stood hardly a month ago with the 
 
 arquebuses pointed at his breast, and held at bay 
 
 by his own steady courage the howling mob which 
 
 broke loose after the bloody fight of Osterwell. If 
 
 I could but have been there then to see him ! " 
 
 So spoke Norbert Tontorf to his sister Jacqueline 
 as they rode down the famous Place de Meir in the 
 city of Antwerp late that same evening. They 
 were seeking the house of a certain engraver, by 
 name Bouterwek, with whom their father had di 
 rected them to take lodging. The rain was falling 
 in torrents, the April evening was chill, and dark 
 ness was deepening through the city. Jacqueline 
 making no response to her brother's exclamation, 
 the young man turned to glance at her face and ex 
 claimed : 
 
 "What, Jacqueline, are those salty drops that 
 are falling down thy cheeks ? What ails thee, 
 little one ? Art tired beyond thy strength ? Listen 
 to those chimes ! Is not their sound most musical ? " 
 and Norbert looked up at the lofty spire of the great 
 cathedral which dominated the city, as it had done 
 for centuries and should do for centuries to come. 
 
 "I do not care to hear them," cried Jacqueline 
 piteously. " I would far rather hear the chimes of 
 Lange Jan. Oh, Norbert, I want my mother, I 
 want to go back to Middelburg. I hate this great, 
 gloomy city. The people look at us with wicked 
 looks, and these strange streets frighten me."
 
 155 
 
 They had turned now into the labyrinth of nar 
 row, crooked streets, which intervenes southward 
 between the cathedral and the river. Above them 
 the tall, dark houses seemed to lean across the nar 
 row spaces as if to touch each other, foul smells 
 rose from the gutters, bold-faced women fleered at 
 them from the windows, the few passers-by eyed 
 them with sullen, even hostile, curiosity, and the 
 rain beat pitilessly upon their unprotected heads. 
 
 Norbert stopped his horse and asked a cobbler 
 who stood in his greasy leather apron, bare-armed 
 before his shop, if he would direct him to the Rue 
 d'Augustin. 
 
 For answer the man looked up at an open win 
 dow above the shop, from which a red-faced woman 
 leaned, and called : 
 
 " Beshrew me, but the young master is seeking 
 a refuge from the rain in the Rue d'Augustin ! " 
 upon which the woman burst out into coarse, de 
 risive laughter, which terrified Jacqueline indescrib 
 ably. With sundry nods and smiles the stout cob 
 bler now took Norbert's horse by the bridle and led 
 him on a few paces to a corner where the street 
 was intersected by another, gloomier and more un 
 savory than the first. 
 
 "Follow that, my fine fellow," he said pointing 
 east, "until you come to a small alley leading 
 south. That will take you, with a few twists and 
 turns, safely to that same Rue d'Augustin which 
 you desire," and with that he retreated to his 
 shop. 
 
 "Norbert," cried Jacqueline, trembling and un 
 able to restrain her tears, "there must be some 
 thing wrong. My father would never have sent us 
 to such a place as this bids fair to.be. Do not let 
 us go farther." 
 
 " Where should we go then, Jacqueline ? " asked 
 Norbert cheerfully, keeping straight forward. 
 
 " Mijnheer Rubens should have remained with us,
 
 I 5 6 
 
 and not left us as he did at Oude-God. Oh, if 
 only I had not been hungry and tired and forced 
 you to halt ! " the child lamented. 
 
 " He was somewhat overhasty to reach his own 
 comfortable home before dark, I will allow," said 
 Norbert ; " but he meant well enough. He gave 
 me endless directions, thou knowest, for finding 
 the Rue d'Augustin properly, but somehow in this 
 medley of strange streets I have lost the clue. 
 Cheer up, little one, we shall presently find Mijn- 
 heer Bouterwek, and there will be an end to all 
 ihisfacherie." 
 
 In a few moments, having threaded a most for 
 bidding and tortuous alley, they did indeed turn into 
 a wider street, and one of better aspect, which 
 proved to be the Rue d'Augustin. 
 
 They rode slowly, for darkness had now fallen 
 and it was only by a small torch which he had 
 lighted that aught could be discerned save the 
 outline of the tall beetling housefronts. Norbert 
 searched these closely, as they passed, for the 
 small sign he sought. With an exclamation of satis 
 faction he cried presently : 
 
 " Here we are at last ! Now dry thy tears, Jac 
 queline, and end thy fears. See, ' Gerard Bouter 
 wek, engraver,' " and as he plied the great knocker 
 Norbert held his torch up to a large, polished shield 
 of brass, which bore this name, surrounded with 
 fine chasing, showing symbols of the owner's 
 craft. 
 
 " But why is the house so dark ? " asked Jac 
 queline. 
 
 In fact the windows of the house front were all 
 alike closely barred, and not a ray of light pene 
 trated from within. A silence oppressive and sin 
 ister followed Norbert's knocking ; no person 
 passed, no voice or sound reached the place which 
 seemed now to the strained perceptions of the 
 young Middelburgers strangely deserted.
 
 157 
 
 Again Norbert knocked with sharp strokes, which 
 sent echoes sounding down the length of the street, 
 but produced no other result. The house of Master 
 Bouterwek remained dark and silent as before. 
 
 " Norbert, what will become of us ? Where can 
 we go ? The people must be gone away alto 
 gether." 
 
 " One would think they would have left at least 
 a servant," muttered Norbert, his hand again on 
 the knocker. 
 
 At the first sound of his renewed knocking a 
 shutter in the house opposite was pushed cautiously 
 open, a faint light shone out, and a harsh voice 
 called : 
 
 "Mort Dieu, you there ! Can't you go to perdi 
 tion fast enough without seeking entrance yon 
 der ? " 
 
 " What mean you, sir ? " asked Norbert, hastily 
 crossing the street and looking up at the window. 
 
 " By Saint Ildefonso ! my good fellow, can you 
 not see by your torch the God's mark on the door 
 post ? " 
 
 Norbert involuntarily made a gesture of dismay 
 as he now for the first time perceived the fatal 
 token. 
 
 " Two of the family of Master Bouterwek died 
 of the plague last week, and the printer himself is 
 at the last gasp even now. If you are wise you 
 will cease your pounding on that door and seek 
 shelter otherwhere," and with this the man drew 
 back from the window and was about to close the 
 shutter. 
 
 Jacqueline gave a faint cry, and her white face 
 and evident exhaustion impelled Norbert to imme 
 diate action. Without further pause for considera 
 tion he called to the man above : 
 
 " My good friend, tarry a bit, an' it please you. 
 My young sister is too weary to go farther in this 
 darkness and pelting rain. We are strangers in
 
 158 
 
 Antwerp and without escort. The city is full of 
 reckless prowlers and we cannot safely search out 
 such lodging as befits us. Can you not grant us 
 your hospitality for this one night ? " 
 
 An unpromising and unintelligible muttering was 
 the only reply, but Norbert saw that the man who 
 now left the window had not carried out his first 
 intention of closing the shutter. 
 
 " Be not downcast, Jacqueline," he said cheerily, 
 " the fellow is churlish, to be sure, but he is plainly 
 not the master ; and see, it is no mean house, but 
 I should judge the residence of some personage of 
 quality who would scarce refuse so reasonable a 
 request," and Norbert lifting his torch let its light 
 flicker over the carved facade before them. 
 
 But Jacqueline was in too great an extremity to 
 take heed of such matters, and she made no reply 
 to Norbert's stout-hearted encouragement, but sat 
 now with her head drooping even to her horse's 
 mane. The slow moments passed painfully, but 
 suddenly the sound of slipping bolts and turning 
 keys in the house door close beside her called 
 Jacqueline's aching eyes down from the window 
 on which they had been fastened. The man with 
 whom they had been speaking now appeared in the 
 doorway, the lamplight in the hall beyond sharply 
 outlining his figure. Norbert perceived that he was 
 a man of twenty-five, or thereabouts, of harsh and 
 angular frame, shabbily dressed, and yet obviously 
 above the rank of a servant. 
 
 " Are we to enter ? " asked Norbert, for the man 
 did not speak nor relax in any degree his sour and 
 sullen aspect. 
 
 To this question he replied only by a curt nod 
 and a motion of his hand. 
 
 Norbert turned and lifted Jacqueline down from 
 her saddle and she stood for a moment on the swim 
 ming pavement so dizzy and her limbs so stiffened 
 and aching that to move forward seemed impossible.
 
 159 
 
 A servant now appeared who took their horses 
 and led them off to a neighboring stable, Norbert 
 having removed the saddle-bags containing their 
 few personal belongings. Laden with those and 
 supporting Jacqueline's faltering steps, he led her 
 into the house, whose dubious hospitality was at 
 least better than the dark and dangerous streets. 
 
 Following their silent guide they now crossed a 
 faintly lighted court, in which Norbert descried 
 bales of merchandise, indicating the occupation of 
 the owner of the house. From the gloomy pre 
 cincts of this court they stepped immediately into 
 a large, well-lighted room, luxuriously furnished in 
 a style wholly unfamilar to the young Zeelanders. 
 
 Leaving them to stand in the center of this 
 apartment in their dripping garments and still with 
 out an unneeded word, their guide now disappeared 
 into an inner room, the door of which he carefully 
 closed. 
 
 Again the interval of waiting seemed intermina 
 ble, and their surroundings began to assume a 
 dreamlike and fantastic aspect, when at the end 
 of the long room a silken curtain was lightly lifted 
 and a young woman entering approached them 
 with soft, gliding steps. 
 
 More than ever was Norbert possessed of the 
 sensation of being in a dream as he watched the ap 
 proach of this person, who was of singular and 
 striking beauty and dressed with extravagant rich 
 ness and with a brilliancy and boldness of color 
 which bordered on the grotesque. 
 
 " Now by Saint Eulalia of Madrid!" cried this 
 lady, in a soft, silvery voice, through which an un 
 der-current of derisive laughter seemed to vibrate, 
 "what have we here ? Saints save us, but who 
 are you, poor dripping pilgrims ? and what wind 
 blew you hither ? " 
 
 She now came up to the two as they stood in 
 dazzled bewilderment, and lifting Jacqueline's chin
 
 i6o 
 
 in her taper fingers studied her face for a moment, 
 remarking: "You must e'en go to a surgeon for 
 those eyes of yours, my pretty child." 
 
 Then turning with startling suddenness to Nor- 
 bert, she gave him a swift, sharp tap on the ear 
 which brought all the blood in his body to his head 
 and for a moment completed his bedazzlement. 
 
 The young lady watched the effect of this little 
 admonition with peals of light, musical laughter, 
 and as Norbert rallied his wits, she cried : 
 
 " Off with your bonnet, sir ! Do they not teach 
 you Dutch jonkers to uncover in the presence of 
 ladies ? " 
 
 Hastily Norbert removed his soaked and now 
 shapeless cap and bowed low to his monitor, with 
 the words : 
 
 "Your pardon, madame ! I was so bewildered by 
 the beauty of all about me after the desolate gloom 
 without, that I forgot myself entirely." 
 
 " Yes, I will pardon you, since you excuse your 
 self so gallantly, and since, by our Lady, you look 
 so infinitely more agreeable without that wretched 
 cap." 
 
 The door now reopened and their guide appear 
 ing led Norbert and Jacqueline into the inner room, 
 the young lady throwing them light kisses and fol 
 lowing their departure with gay trills of laughter. 
 
 The room which they now entered was small, 
 but so brilliant were its walls, hung with crimson 
 Spanish leather, illumined by numerous waxlights 
 held in branching and gilded sconces, that even 
 after the brightness of the apartment which Nor 
 bert and Jacqueline had just left, it burned like the 
 heart of a rose with throbbing color. 
 
 A table stood in the middle of the room strewn 
 with papers, near which on the floor a small brazier 
 held a red fire of coals. Some strange foreign pas 
 tilles strewn upon the coals filled the room with 
 heavily fragrant fumes. A long, carved cupboard
 
 of old ebony held a dense array of curious flasks, 
 crucibles, and jars of chemicals. The door stood 
 open into a small laboratory beyond. 
 
 In the center of the room, beside the table, a man 
 was seated, who Norbert at once perceived was 
 the master of the house, and to whom he now 
 presented himself with respectful and apologetic 
 greeting. 
 
 This man was wrapped in a long, loose robe of 
 black velvet, which opened at the breast disclosing 
 wrought linen of unusual fineness. His face was 
 long and the cheeks sallow and sunken, the eyes 
 singularly keen and glittering under the pent-house 
 roof of the heavy projecting brows. Long, black 
 hair hung to the shoulder from a pointed black vel 
 vet cap, delicate lace fell over the bony, nervous 
 fingers, and a black beard, waving and flecked with 
 gray reached to the girdle, which was loosely tied 
 at the waist. 
 
 Fixing his eyes upon Norbert's face with avid 
 keenness the Spaniard, for such the young Zee- 
 lander now with little pleasure recognized the mas 
 ter of the house to be, spoke in a voice of singularly 
 melodious quality. 
 
 "My clerk tells me, young sir, that you seem 
 minded to force an entrance to my house to-night 
 by your importunity. The times are ill, and a pru 
 dent man would fain know of what strain may be 
 strangers whom he harbors. What have you to 
 say for yourself ? " 
 
 Despite the peculiar melody of the voice and the 
 conciliatory smile with which the Spanish merchant 
 said these words, the cold suspicion expressed in 
 them acted upon Norbert with harshly repellent 
 effect. 
 
 "I am Norbert Tontorf," he replied proudly, 
 "son of Nikolaas Tontorf, an honorable citizen and 
 master-printer of Middelburg, whose name should 
 not be all unknown even in Antwerp. I have come 
 
 L
 
 1 62 
 
 hither to bring my young sister to the care of a 
 physician, Doctor Hoekstra. My father directed us 
 to lodge in the house of Master Bouterwek, who 
 is his good friend, if he be yet alive, but I am told 
 by your clerk that he is in extremity at this very 
 hour. The city councillor, Jan Rubens, gave us his 
 escort hither as far as Oude-God, where I tarried 
 for rest and food for my sister, and hence we ar 
 rived in Antwerp alone and strangers. We ask, 
 monsieur, nothing at your hands but that for which 
 we are able to pay, and in the morning we will 
 gladly depart to seek such lodging as your good 
 city can doubtless furnish to those who enter it 
 neither as vagabonds nor beggars." 
 
 The boyish independence, wounded pride, and 
 sturdy boldness of Norbert's speech and of his bear 
 ing appeared to awaken a species of not unsympa 
 thetic amusement on the part of the master of the 
 house, while something in his statement noticeably 
 quickened his interest in the youth. He nodded 
 several times, and the curiously fascinating irony of 
 his smile went far to disarm Norbert of his rising 
 anger. 
 
 " Excellent, my young friend," he said, fixing 
 his piercing eyes on Norbert's face, " well and gal 
 lantly spoken. The high repute of your father's 
 house is in fact well known to me. Antwerp itself 
 and the great Plantin find in Middelburg and its 
 master printer a worthy rivalry. If I am rightly 
 informed, your father's establishment has of late 
 been increased by several new presses. This au 
 gurs well, Master Norbert, for the prosperity of 
 your father's business," and the merchant smiled 
 with stately courtesy. 
 
 " Our business has indeed grown rapidly of 
 late," returned Norbert in a matter of fact tone, 
 but with characteristic reticence he followed the 
 Spaniard's lead no further. 
 
 "Sent forth on such an errand," proceeded the
 
 merchant graciously, "and from such a house, it 
 were needless to inquire whether the son and 
 daughter of Mijnheer Tontorf are amply equipped 
 for the costs of their residence in a strange city." 
 
 He paused slightly and Norbert bowed a silent 
 assent, at the same time drawing from his pocket 
 several gold pieces which he advanced as if to lay 
 upon the table. 
 
 The Spaniard made a gesture of protest, although 
 his eyes scanned the coins shrewdly for an instant, 
 and he said with dignity : 
 
 " Put up your gold, Master Tontorf. I need no 
 further guarantee. In truth, I am about to propose 
 that you seek no further on the morrow for an 
 abiding-place. My house, though small and poor 
 .in comparison with that of your father, is neverthe 
 less hospitable " 
 
 As the Spanish merchant thus spoke he was 
 interrupted by a low cry from Jacqueline. Turning 
 quickly, Norbert was but just in time to catch her 
 as she sank fainting on the floor. His own head 
 was growing dizzy and his vision dim. The fumes 
 which filled the apartment with their languorous 
 fragrance, the brilliancy of color, the enervating 
 warmth, produced an overpowering influence even 
 upon his hardy vigor. 
 
 The Spaniard rose, his tall figure erect in its long 
 black robe, his sharp glance fixed upon the pros 
 trate child. A silver bell stood on his table, which 
 he rang, and then crossing the room to the open 
 shelves, he returned with a small vial just as the 
 door opened, and the lady whom they had pre 
 viously seen appeared. 
 
 " Here is work for you, Senora Valerie," he said 
 quickly. 
 
 "Ah, poor little one!" she cried pitifully, and 
 she drew the drooping head upon her knee with a 
 gentleness which brought a grateful moisture to 
 Norbert's eyes.
 
 1 64 
 
 Seeing Jacqueline evidently reviving, he turned 
 to the Spaniard and said : 
 
 " We are like to be glad, it seems, monsieur, to 
 accept your hospitality for some days to come, and 
 at least for to-night it is most urgently needed." 
 
 " Of a surety," replied his host, with grave cor 
 diality, "and now, without more ado, we will put 
 this little maid to bed," and he led the way up a 
 flight of stairs, Norbert and the lady whom he had 
 addressed as Senora Valerie supporting Jacqueline 
 between them. 
 
 Above they were led down a dim corridor and 
 ushered into a small room at the back of the house, 
 from which opened another scarcely larger than a 
 closet and without a window, both, however, being 
 simply but sufficiently furnished as sleeping rooms. 
 
 A servant who had been hastily summoned now 
 brought several flasks of medicine and cordials, 
 which he placed upon a table, together with food 
 and wine. While Norbert and Jacqueline partook 
 of the latter their host and Senora Valerie spent a 
 moment in serious, low-voiced consultation outside 
 the door. The instant, however, that Jacqueline 
 turned wearily from the scarcely tasted food the 
 lady was at her side. 
 
 Norbert retreated to his narrow sleeping-closet, 
 while Senora Valerie, with deft and gentle hands, 
 disrobed the shivering child and made her ready 
 for the night. In brief time she sank into a restless, 
 feverish slumber, over which Valerie watched for 
 a little space. Then gently pushing open Norbert's 
 door, she whispered : 
 
 " Go you now to rest. It is easy to see that you 
 are yourself dead tired and must sleep. Your sister 
 will sleep now. My room is hard by and I will 
 watch over her until morning. She is in good hands. 
 If Senor Anastro your host were something cold in 
 his reception, you will find him but the warmer in 
 his hospitality since he knows your true degree."
 
 The gentleness of these words was so far re 
 moved from the wild gayety of Senora Valerie's 
 former manner that Norbert almost doubted if it 
 were indeed the same person. 
 
 "Thank you, senora, with all my heart," he 
 whispered back. " Rest would indeed be wel 
 come," he added with evident misgiving. 
 
 Something touched his breast lightly. It was the 
 hand of Valerie. A soft musical laugh came with 
 the words : 
 
 " There, kiss my hand in token that you forgive 
 my welcome which was, in sooth, over-sharp, and 
 fear not to trust a lady who thus does you grace." 
 
 Norbert touched the delicate hand with his lips, 
 then the door closed softly between them. In the 
 darkness he groped his way to the narrow pallet, 
 threw himself upon it, and knew no more until 
 morning. 
 
 Valerie returned noiselessly to Jacqueline's bed 
 side. The child slept, albeit with rough and trou 
 bled breathing. Valerie's hand now unfastened her 
 nightdress at the throat and after a moment of dex 
 terous manipulation and the aid of a small lancet- 
 shaped knife which severed a ribbon, she appeared 
 to obtain something for which she sought. 
 
 In another instant she stood outside the door, 
 which she closed and locked, and then laid a small 
 book bound in white vellum in the hand of Senor 
 Anastro, who stood waiting. 
 
 "There," she said laughing softly, "I had not 
 far to seek for a token. No rosary did I find, nor 
 
 crucifix, nor Agnus Dei. Still if this is a missal " 
 
 and she paused, her head drooping on Anastro's 
 shoulder, while they scanned the tiny book together 
 with intense eagerness by the light of his candle. 
 It proved to be the four Gospels finely printed and 
 bound. 
 
 " By Geronimo ! " breathed rather than spoke the 
 Spaniard. " It is no missal ! My scent was right ! I
 
 i66 
 
 knew I had heard a whisper concerning that Mid- 
 delburger. His affinity, moreover, with our ill- 
 starred neighbor opposite did but deepen the com 
 plexion of my doubt." 
 
 " Yes, but know you even now," whispered 
 Valerie, " that the Middelburger himself printed 
 this little book? What is the sign or imprint? " 
 
 Anastro turned to the title-page and pointed with 
 his lean brown forefinger to the device of the cross 
 enclosed by the circle or crown, with a. fleur-de-lis 
 in the center. 
 
 " Is that sufficient? Is that proof? " asked 
 Valerie, smoothing the soft fur of the Spaniard's 
 robe with her light, jeweled fingers, and watching 
 his face with undisguised eagerness. 
 
 He shook his head, his glittering eyes searching 
 greedily, but in vain, through the leaves of the book 
 for further sign or token. 
 
 "Nay, my Valerie," he said then, " thou hast 
 done well, but better yet must be. Restore the 
 little book ; then seek in thy woman's wit for some 
 shift whereby the child shall give thee the knowl 
 edge we seek and give it ere daybreak. But let 
 her suspect nothing, else all will be in vain." 
 
 Within Jacqueline's chamber Valerie carefully 
 replaced the little book on the child's breast, fas 
 tening the ribbon, then listened at the inner door 
 and satisfying herself from his breathing that Nor- 
 bert slept soundly, she turned the key in the lock. 
 This done she lighted a candle, and with quick, sure 
 motions poured out into a small basin portions of the 
 oil, rose water, and other simple lotions which were 
 standing ready on the table. Kneeling then by the 
 bed she proceeded with her slender, flexible fingers 
 to rub the compound thoroughly into the throat and 
 chest of Jacqueline. 
 
 In a few moments, as she expected, the young 
 girl opened her eyes and murmured a confused, 
 half-articulate question.
 
 167 
 
 "A shame to waken thee, dear child," said 
 Valerie in a cordial, cheering voice, " but I needs 
 must rub this fricace into thy throat to soothe thy 
 breathing. I fear thou hast taken a strong chill and 
 fever may follow. Keep awake, little one, yet a 
 moment, that I may also administer the cordial that 
 the kind Senor Anastro hath sent thee." 
 
 Jacqueline awoke at this and rubbed her eyes 
 open when suddenly Valerie appearing to discover 
 the little book for the first time and lifting it in her 
 hand, exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh, what have I found ! Jacqueline, surely 
 this is the very word of God. Is it possible that 
 thou art so happy as to own this wonderful book for 
 which I have longed for many years, but in vain?" 
 And pressing her lips passionately upon the cover 
 the Senora to all appearance was lost in a transport 
 of mingled joy and longing. 
 
 Jacqueline stared, half-dazed for a little space, 
 dimly remembering the many injunctions to secrecy 
 regarding this book which she had received at home, 
 but feeling them in this case to be wholly out of 
 place. 
 
 Presently Valerie lifted her head. 
 
 "Jacqueline," she whispered, dashing away the 
 tears which were supposed to fill her eyes, with a 
 frank, artless gesture, " no one knows my heart. 
 I do not dare to let them. If I could but own a 
 book like this I believe I could live a different life 
 and die happy ! Canst thou not tell me where 
 thine was procured ? Couldst thou aid me to ob 
 tain one like it ? What is money ? I would pay 
 any price ! " and her large eyes, glowing fervently, 
 were fixed upon the innocent face of the girl. 
 
 " With all my heart, dear lady, I will help you 
 to get a book like mine," said Jacqueline, full of 
 sympathy for the stranger lady's religious devotion, 
 " nor sh. 11 it cost you even one stiver. It is a secret, 
 but to you I can tell it ; my own dear father prints
 
 i68 
 
 Bibles and hymnals at our printery in Middelburg, 
 although just where and when nobody knows. But 
 this is one that he printed, and when I return I will 
 ask him to send you a far better one than this, large 
 and well bound, for your own, and Helma, that is 
 my sister, shall illuminate the title-page for it." 
 
 Valerie kissed the unsuspecting girl with a rap 
 turous joy quite unfeigned by reason of her genuine 
 exultation in the success of her little experiment. 
 She admonished the child earnestly, however, to 
 absolute silence, as she dared not let any living 
 soul know her secret desire. 
 
 " Now take this cordial, and go fast to sleep, good, 
 dear little girl. We shall grow very fond of each 
 other since we have this great secret together. 
 Good-night," and Valerie extinguished the light 
 and noiselessly rejoined Anastro in the corridor 
 outside. 
 
 Passing to the end farthest from Jacqueline's 
 door, Valerie rehearsed with much spirit the scene 
 which had just taken place and every word spoken 
 by the daughter of Nikolaas Tontorf. Anastro 
 listened with closest attention and signified his sat 
 isfaction by a still smile and slow approving nods. 
 
 "Thou knowest the reward, Valerie, if this pes 
 tilent printer be brought to justice ? " he asked 
 with significant emphasis, when her tale was told. 
 
 " Nay, Anastro, 1 know it is worth an effort, but 
 of the exact conditions I am ignorant." 
 
 " One-tenth of the substance of the man's pos 
 sessions in such a case is pledged by the crown to 
 the one giving unmistakable proof of his infracture 
 of the edicts. This man's violation, gross and 
 flagrant, is now absolutely confirmed ; and my 
 part, our part, my peerless friend, cannot fail to be 
 recognized and duly rewarded. The man is rich, 
 that I have heard ere this, and what the lad let 
 drop just now below made me doubly sure. It was 
 a lucky wind that blew them in hither to-night. To
 
 win the favor of God and Our Lady and repair my 
 fortunes at one stroke is not a bad night's work ! 
 And thy skillful furtherance, my Valerie, shall not 
 be forgotten. Thou shalt lack no longer those 
 jewels which will so weJI become thy beauty, and 
 which I have hitherto so unwillingly denied thee. 
 Good-night. It is necessary to make all haste in 
 this matter, for this same Tontorf has come under 
 suspicion from other eyes than mine, and I may 
 yet be too late." 
 
 Caspar d'Anastro returned to the burning red 
 light of his private cabinet, and bent for hours over 
 his writing table. 
 
 At daybreak his clerk and trusted confidant, 
 Venero, departed from the house in the Rue d'Au- 
 gustin with a sealed letter addressed to the secre 
 tary of her highness the Duchess of Parma, regent 
 in the Netherlands of his Catholic and Christian 
 Majesty Philip II., King of Spain. At an inn in a 
 neighboring street Venero called for a horse and 
 w xs soon on his way to the city of Brussels.
 
 XVI 
 
 A SCRAP OF PAPER 
 
 T what an' if you have been here with us 
 more than a month, Master Norbert, have 
 you not, even so, ample cause for content ? " 
 asked Senora Valerie of Norbert on a morning in 
 early June. " Says not Doctor Hoekstra daily 
 that our dear Jacqueline's eyes mend apace ? " 
 
 The lady was watering her flowers, cactus and 
 oleander and orange trees, in the small garden 
 enclosed by high walls at the rear of the residence 
 of Anastro, in the Rue d'Augustin, while Norbert 
 paced the narrow walk impatiently with knitted 
 brows. 
 
 " Nay, dear lady, pardon me if I seem ungra 
 cious," he cried with sudden boldness, "but in 
 truth I am not content, and I will for once speak 
 plainly. Doubtless Doctor Hoekstra is skillful and 
 Jacqueline's cure goes forward as rapidly as may 
 be, although she is still, as at first, shut up with 
 bandaged eyes in that dark, stifling room," and 
 with the words Norbert glanced up at the closed 
 fenestral of Jacqueline's chamber, "and, as it seems 
 to me, she grows ever paler and weaker. I note 
 "the doctor tarries daily for conference with Senor 
 Anastro and it disquiets me somewhat. Can you 
 inform me if they are keeping from me aught con 
 cerning my sister's condition." 
 
 Norbert faced Valerie, who was slowly walking 
 by his side, with deep anxiety plainly written on 
 his face. 
 
 She smiled a soothing, playful smile as she re 
 plied : 
 170
 
 171 
 
 " That can I, fond, faithful Norbert, with your 
 grim northern fears and your grave anxieties. 
 Can you never learn to trust your friends and be 
 at ease with them ? Doctor Hoekstra has told me 
 plainly that Jacqueline was surprising him by her 
 rapid recovery, but it is a case which must take 
 patience for many weeks to come. He and Senor 
 Anastro are old friends and enjoy a moment now 
 and then of social interchange which bodes no ill, 
 believe me, to your sister. Is it so hard, then, 
 Norbert, to be patient ? Are you not made one of 
 us ? We have become so fond of you it is grievous 
 to feel that you are still bursting with impatience 
 to leave us," with which words Valerie shook her 
 head with charming pensiveness. 
 
 Norbert's face grew gentler, for he was by no 
 means insensible to the senora's bewitching ways. 
 
 "I could even bear the long inaction, senora," 
 he said soberly, " eager as I am to be free to join 
 the gentleman who, as I have told you, has granted 
 me the honor of calling me to his service, but how 
 can I or how could any man patiently endure the 
 life I live in Antwerp ? I am little better than a 
 prisoner, and that you yourself know perfectly. 
 Every step is guarded, every motion watched. I 
 can never leave this house without procuring the 
 key from Senor Anastro, who is thus cognizant of 
 all my movements and who never permits me to 
 stir abroad unless accompanied by one of his serv 
 ants. I like it not, and, by my faith, I will not 
 much longer submit to such needless and humiliating 
 surveillance ! " 
 
 Valerie saw in the indignant eyes of the young 
 man that he had in fact reached the climax of re 
 sistance to the limitations persistently set upon him 
 by Anastro, which she had foreseen was inevitable 
 sooner or later. 
 
 " Norbert," she said softly and with a serious 
 gentleness which moved the young man far more
 
 172 
 
 than her gayer words, " shall I tell you the veri 
 table reason for the surveillance, as you call it, in 
 which you are held ? " 
 
 " I know the reason Senor Anastro gives me," 
 he replied, " that the city is still in such tumult 
 that it is dangerous for a stranger to go unattended ; 
 but surely my safety is my own affair rather than 
 his. I am not afraid of any one I have seen in 
 Antwerp yet," he added with a touch of youthful 
 bravado. 
 
 Valerie bent her head and concealed a curiously 
 cold smile which passed over her face. 
 
 " That reason is true," she continued in the 
 same quiet tone, " but it is not all of the truth. 
 It has been rumored of you, Norbert, in Antwerp, 
 that this nameless nobleman whose service you 
 have told me you are about to enter is none other 
 than the Great Absentee, the Prince of Orange 
 himself, and that your real purpose in Antwerp is 
 to levy troops in the name of the prince to share 
 full soon in a general uprising. Now Senor Anastro, 
 knowing all this and knowing the imminent peril 
 which these rumors have brought to threaten you, 
 stands firmly, even in spite of your own resistance, 
 as your friend and guardian." 
 
 " And yet," said Norbert to himself, "he is a 
 Spaniard and a Catholic. It is passing strange." 
 
 Perhaps the thought left its trace in his frank 
 face, for Valerie continued : 
 
 "Senor Anastro, while himself a good Catholic, 
 is not of the bigoted strain, which can see no good 
 in them of the New Religion, for such we divine 
 you to be, my friend. Antwerp is full of plots and 
 counterplots. Catholics and Protestants alike be 
 tray each other, and there are few who can be 
 trusted. It is against the dangers which surround 
 you that your noble host, with his knowledge of 
 the Antwerp mob, is seeking to protect you. And," 
 she added almost tenderly, "although you may not
 
 173 
 
 dream it, even I, weak as I am, have used all my 
 power to aid you, Norbert." 
 
 Norbert murmured a somewhat formal acknowl 
 edgment, being indeed less impressed with the 
 magnaminity of his hosts than with the surprising 
 nature of Valerie's disclosure as to the suspicions 
 concerning himself. 
 
 "Are all Hollanders cold and impassive like 
 you? " asked the senora, who had expected more 
 effusiveness and whose face showed a shade of 
 pique at Norbert's evident absorption. 
 
 The young man smiled and said : " I fear you 
 find me cold indeed, madame, and unresponsive." 
 
 " Perchance your heart is warmer than your 
 words," suggested Valerie with a glance of coquet 
 tish challenge. 
 
 " Nay, by my troth, madame, I think not," an 
 swered Norbert stoutly, courteously, but not the 
 less palpably indifferent to the lady's somewhat 
 obvious approaches. " These times are ill-suited to 
 gallantries, and were it not so I have no heart for 
 them. I myself am under a vow to the service of 
 a lady in a distant land, not as lover, look you, but 
 as servant ; but it is a service which commands my 
 whole heart." 
 
 " Ah, is it so ? " cried Valerie concealing a very 
 pungent sense of mortified vanity. " Tell me 
 something of this foreign lady. She is most beau 
 tiful, I'll wager, at least in the eyes of her bold 
 knight," and she laughed mockingly. 
 
 " I have never seen her, madame," said Norbert ; 
 " but none the less my sword and my service belong 
 to her if ever she should condescend to command 
 them. I pray you excuse me now. These morning 
 hours pass wearily to my sister," and with a re 
 spectful salutation Norbert hastened and entered 
 the house, leaving Valerie alone among her blos 
 soming oleanders with an unpleasant light in her 
 eyes and a slight flush on her cheeks.
 
 174 
 
 Although too inexperienced and unsuspicious to 
 entertain special migivings as to the position of the 
 senora in the house of the Spanish merchant, Nor- 
 bert had responded but coldly to the advances 
 which she was prompted by instinctive coquetry as 
 well as by other considerations to make toward him. 
 He realized at every moment acutely that he was 
 placed in a position of peculiar peril in which he 
 must never for one moment relax his vigilance. 
 
 For Anastro himself Norbert had grown to enter 
 tain a species of respect which was yet deeply 
 tinged with doubt. His manner of serious and even 
 lofty dignity and of unvarying kindness toward 
 himself was well calculated to allay suspicion. And 
 yet Norbert did not trust his host. 
 
 The ostensible occupation of the Spaniard was 
 that of importing drugs and spices and in those 
 commodities he drove a fair business in the small 
 shop on the Rue d'Augustin. In this he was 
 assisted by his confidential clerk, Venero, and by 
 several servants. Norbert's quick perceptions, 
 however, grasped the fact very soon that apart 
 from his regular avocation, Anastro conducted a 
 variety of lines less reputable, that he dabbled in 
 money lending and usury, in a dubious sort of med 
 ical practice, and that his evenings were spent in 
 the small laboratory, which opened from the Red 
 Room, in experiments which Norbert vaguely fan 
 cied to be of doubtful beneficence. 
 
 While the house was luxuriously appointed, its 
 master courteous and affable, the senora charming, 
 the doctor attentive and apparently successful, the 
 servants deferential, there was one inmate of the 
 family whose sour and sullen disfavor toward Nor 
 bert never showed change or softening. This was 
 the man whose initial, surly reception of them in 
 the storm and darkness Norbert could not easily 
 forget, Venero, the trusted and confidential clerk 
 of the merchant.
 
 175 
 
 Norbert had experienced a distinct relief in not 
 finding this man upon the scene the morning after 
 their arrival. From Senor Anastro he had received 
 tidings of the death of his father's friend, Master 
 Bouterwek, in the house over the way. He had 
 found himself forced by Jacqueline's condition and 
 the imperative orders of Doctor Hoekstra to aban 
 don any idea of seeking another lodging as he would 
 fain have done among people of like faith and pur 
 pose with his own family. He remained therefore 
 on terms of guarded watchfulness in the house of a 
 man by race and religion hostile, although in disposi 
 tion, as it appeared, peculiarly friendly to himself 
 and his sister. 
 
 Venero had returned after a day's absence, but 
 only to depart again, and at no time since Norbert 
 had become a member of the family of Anastro had 
 the cashier, as he was usually styled, been present 
 for more than a few days at a time. His various 
 short journeys were explained by the merchant as 
 being taken on urgent business relative to a large 
 purchase of indigo. 
 
 When Norbert reached Jacqueline's chamber he 
 found that Doctor Hoekstra had just left after assur 
 ing her that she was doing well, but must by no 
 means leave her bed nor remove the bandages from 
 her eyes. She complained of a weary sense of 
 weakness, and suddenly sitting up in bed she ex 
 claimed in a whisper to her brother : 
 
 " Norbert, I believe that if I could get out in the 
 free air and once have all I want to eat I should 
 now be as well as ever ! You cannot think how 
 hungry I am, and they never let me have any food 
 stronger than these little blanc-manges and custards. 
 I long for a good hearty meal, and if I could have it 
 I believe I could leave this hateful room and this 
 wretched town and go home to my dear mother." 
 
 Norbert looked at her for a moment without re 
 plying, a sudden and startling thought for the first
 
 176 
 
 time stirring to life. He had closed the door on en 
 tering, and now holding it with his hand to guard 
 against intrusion, he whispered : 
 
 "Jacqueline, has it ever entered thy mind that 
 this long bandaging of thy eyes might be needless ? 
 Hast thou tested them at all since the doctor oper 
 ated on the lids ? " 
 
 "No, the doctor has strictly forbidden me to do 
 so." 
 
 " Never mind what Doctor Hoekstra has forbid 
 den. I have a notion he will spin out his visits as 
 long as he gets a good gold crown for each, and 
 mayhap there is little left him now but to keep 
 thee from growing strong and to keep us both in 
 the dark. Take off that bandage, little sister, and 
 let me have a look at thy eyes." 
 
 Jacqueline obeyed. After earnest inspection and 
 a series of simple tests they were both satisfied that 
 the eyes were indeed weak, but that the serious 
 trouble was at an end. 
 
 " It is even possible, Jacqueline, that they would 
 grow strong faster now were they left unbound. 
 This hot, heavy bandage to my mind does but in 
 crease the fever and weakness in them. However, 
 put it back now, lest Valerie notice its removal, but 
 instead of lying here growing steadily weaker, take 
 the time when we are all at dinner to walk about 
 the room and exercise thy limbs. If possible I will 
 procure thee some stronger food at noon. The 
 fashion of thy treatment takes on a new and sus 
 picious color to my thought, and I have much to 
 consider, for I greatly misdoubt that we are no 
 longer guests in this house, but blinded and deluded 
 prisoners." 
 
 As he entered the room below at dinner time, 
 Norbert found the family increased since the morn 
 ing by the arrival of two persons. Venero, the 
 cashier, who had been absent now for several days, 
 had returned to the Rue d'Augustin within the hour,
 
 177 
 
 and a young Dominican monk, a frequent visitor, 
 known in the house only as "the padre," sat down 
 with himself, Valerie, and their host at the table. 
 
 Norbert found his eyes involuntarily drawn again 
 and again to Venero, whose appearance, ill-favored 
 at best, had never impressed him as so repulsive as 
 at this hour. His face showed itself as haggard and 
 jaded to a degree ; his shabby doublet was weather- 
 stained and soiled ; his roughened hair and glassy 
 eyes seemed to indicate that he had not slept for 
 many nights. 
 
 To Norbert's greeting he replied only by a sullen 
 nod of his head, not even lifting his eyes. Norbert, 
 however, who had in the last hour received a new 
 arousal of purpose and was not minded to be easily 
 daunted, asked after a few moments : 
 
 "And where has the indigo business taken you 
 this time, Master Venero ? " 
 
 The cashier glowered at him for a moment with 
 out a word. A slight, hardly perceptible motion of 
 Anastro's hand, however, seemed to admonish him 
 to reply and he accordingly said harshly : 
 
 " Only as far as Mechlin this time," and there 
 with lapsed again into morose silence. 
 
 Norbert felt throughout the meal an unwonted 
 and inexplicable sense of oppression which he 
 strove to shake off, as well as to conceal, by forc 
 ing himself to careless talkativeness. He noted 
 swift glances of unknown significance now and 
 again between the master of the house and Valerie, 
 and it seemed to him that a strangely sinister ex 
 pression lurked in the glittering eyes of Anastro 
 whenever they rested upon himself. The padre 
 was watchful, given to bland smiles, but unwontedly 
 silent. 
 
 The more Norbert's vague suspicion was aroused, 
 and the more ill at ease he became, the more care 
 less and confident grew his demeanor. As they all 
 rose from the table he declared that he had eaten 
 
 M -
 
 178 
 
 so heartily that he must take a little exercise in the 
 garden, and accordingly singing a gay little song he 
 passed through the narrow hall which led between 
 the kitchen and offices to the garden door. 
 
 At the entrance to the kitchen, which was open, 
 he stopped and looked in. The cook's scullion, a 
 miserable urchin known only as Juan in the house 
 hold, was cleaning knives at a low bench. The 
 cook herself, a stout Fleming with white cap and 
 apron, stood bare-armed before the fireplace pre 
 paring a stew of meat and vegetables for the 
 servants' dinner. Norbert had ingratiated himself 
 with this woman, a good-natured body, and step 
 ping in now and crossing the kitchen to where she 
 stood, he said low, but in broad Flemish dialect : 
 
 "Look you, Kristel, why not give a poor fellow 
 whose appetite is never still, a chunk of that cold 
 mutton on the table yonder ? That's a good mopsy ! 
 By four of the clock I shall be as hungry as a wild 
 boar, and marry but that would relish ! " 
 
 " Well, then, jonker, you must stir the mess 
 here for me," the cook answered in her thick, husky 
 voice, laughing and stepping to the table. 
 
 " Cock sure will I that," replied Norbert heartily, 
 taking the great iron spoon from her hand. As he 
 did so his eye caught sight of a small bunch of paper 
 crushed and soiled, at the edge of the hearth among 
 the ashes. Something in the character of it gave 
 him a strange thrill of surprise and recognition. 
 Bending he picked up the paper, asking carelessly : 
 
 "See, Kristel, who threw this ball of paper in 
 the ashes ? Is it worth aught, think you ? " 
 
 "Nay, Master Tontorf," said Kristel hoarsely; 
 " it is not worth half a maravedi, else would not 
 Master Venero have thrown it there as he did but 
 now. Trust him for that. There, put that in your 
 pocket, my fine cavaliei, and remember poor old 
 Kristel when you eat it," and therewith she placed 
 in his hands a thick wedge of the cold mutton.
 
 179 
 
 " Trust me for that," whispered Norbert and 
 accompanied the words by a hearty smack on the 
 hard, red cheek of the good woman, at which the 
 boy Juan grinned broadly. Then crowding meat 
 and paper both into an inner pocket, he made haste 
 to reach the garden in time to avoid being found in 
 the kitchen by Valerie, who almost immediately 
 appeared, coming out to gather a few roses, so she 
 said. 
 
 An hour kter, having sustained his part in a pro 
 longed conversation with the sefiora, Norbert took 
 refuge upstairs, first giving Jacqueline the mutton 
 to satisfy her ravenous hunger and then withdraw 
 ing to his own cell-like room. 
 
 Here he lighted a candle and at last opened the 
 crushed and dusty paper which he had snatched 
 from the ashes of the kitchen fireplace. As he 
 smoothed it out on his knee and recognized its 
 familiar aspect, Norbert's heart beat fiercely with 
 wonder, doubt, and dread. What could it signify ? 
 The paper, which was a small, printed sheet an 
 nouncing a new edition of the writings of Murmel- 
 lius by the house of Tontorf, in Middelburg, was the 
 fac-simile of a hundred which Norbert well remem 
 bered lying in a pile on the shelves of his father's 
 salesroom. How had it come into the hands of 
 Venero on his expedition to Mechlin ? Some chance 
 might have brought it about, and yet Norbert was 
 seized with ominous foreboding. The paper he 
 found contained a few crumbs of cake, dry and 
 stale, and also a small label which had at first es 
 caped his notice. Holding this up to the light of 
 the candle, Norbert read the printed name of a 
 Middelburg baker, whose shop in the Lange Delft 
 was nearly opposite his father's house. 
 
 Instantly the truth flashed upon his mind beyond 
 the reach of further question. Venero had been in 
 Middelburg, not in Mechlin what were lies to a 
 varlet like him ? He had been not only in Middel-
 
 i8o 
 
 burg, but had been in the Lange Delft, had pur 
 chased food at the shop of their neighbor, had also 
 visited the printery of his father, and had there 
 casually or by intention obtained the printed sheet 
 used later to wrap his food. All very plain, but 
 what then ? Norbert asked himself. Why should 
 these facts, which seemed clearly enough indicated, 
 cause him such strong alarm and agitation ? Why 
 should not Venero visit Middelburg and the Lange 
 Delft and his father's house ? 
 
 A moment's thought convinced Norbert that in 
 the sinister secrecy of the expedition, in the con 
 cealment of it by sullen silence and falsehood, 
 there lay ample reason for apprehension, reason 
 not easily to be argued away. Had his errand to 
 Middelburg been One of an honorable and ordi 
 nary character, why had Venero not informed 
 him, Norbert, that he had been thither ? Why 
 had he not made himself the bearer of letters or 
 messages to him and Jacqueline from their father's 
 house ? 
 
 With his mouth hard set, but with resolute qui 
 etude of manner, Norbert now re-entered Jacque 
 line's room, the ill-boding papers hidden in the 
 pocket of his doublet. He found his sister sitting 
 up in bed, her eyes unbandaged, looking almost as 
 bright and vigorous as before her illness. 
 
 " Little sister," he whispered, sitting down on 
 the bed's edge and taking her hand, "think over 
 all the days since we came to this house and see if 
 thou canst recall any time when by any means 
 thou mayest have allowed Senora Valerie or Doctor 
 Hoekstra to suppose that our father conducted the 
 secret business we know of at the printery, or that 
 our place was used for the meetings of the congre 
 gation of the Fleur-de-lis?" 
 
 Jacqueline's eyes dilated with sudden alarm, for 
 the very quietness of her brother's manner sug 
 gested a strong effort of self-control.
 
 "Oh, Norbert," she whispered, "I did the 
 night we came here, when Valerie found my little 
 book here on my bosom and asked me concerning 
 it because she so sadly desires to have one herself, 
 1 did, yes I did tell her that father printed this 
 one and that I would send her one better and larger 
 when we go home. Was that wrong ? In the 
 morning I felt afraid and in doubt about it, and 
 although she has often since tried to talk with me 
 about what father does and all, I never, never have 
 spoken again, nor mentioned the meetings of the 
 Fleur-de-lis. Oh, Norbert, why dost thou look so ? " 
 and Jacqueline, thoroughly terrified, burst into 
 tears. 
 
 White to the lips, but with strong self-command, 
 Norbert constrained his voice to gentleness, and 
 replied : 
 
 " Do not cry, Jacqueline. We must act now 
 and keep our heads cool. I am satisfied that some 
 devilish treachery is on foot concerning my father, 
 and that we must leave here this very night, if pos 
 sible, and get to Middelburg in time to give him 
 warning. Thou must be brave and strong and 
 steady and help me as thou canst. Where are thy 
 clothes ? " and Norbert drew out from a chest the 
 saddlebags in which Jacqueline had brought a 
 change of raiment to Antwerp. Chest and bags 
 were alike empty, nor was there to be found in 
 the room a single article of apparel belonging to the 
 young girl. 
 
 " The senora has looked out for that," said Nor 
 bert under his breath. "She has played her part 
 well throughout, but she has not wholly blocked us 
 even so," and he went into his own room and 
 quickly brought back the green doublet and hosen 
 which he had worn on the journey to Antwerp, and 
 which, as they were stained by rain and travel, he 
 had laid aside. 
 
 " There, Jacqueline," he said, smiling in spite of
 
 182 
 
 the stern oppression on his heart, " we will see 
 what a soncy lad thou wilt make. Stand a mo 
 ment ! See, thou art not two inches less than I, 
 and thy half-long locks would not be amiss for 
 either man or maid. So ! Now hide these things 
 well under the bedclothes. Lie upon them to keep 
 them from Valerie's sharp vision. Tie the bandage 
 again upon thy eyes, and for the rest, hold thyself 
 ready when the time comes to move. It may not 
 be to-night. In sooth I know not how we shall 
 ever be able to make our way from this house, 
 since the liberty to do so will by no means be given 
 us, and the request on our part would but add to 
 our perils. How about this door ? " and Norbert 
 touched the latch of the one opening upon the 
 corridor. 
 
 " It is always locked on the outside at night," 
 replied Jacqueline, "but no key is left to be seen 
 by day." 
 
 " Valerie doubtless keeps the key," said Norbert, 
 reflecting anxiously. The obstacles encompassing 
 their departure from the house, whose hospitality 
 they had so ignorantly sought, seemed at the mo 
 ment insurmountable, but the dogged courage of 
 the young Zeelander rose with the difficulties. 
 
 With buoyant step he ran down the staircase, 
 dallied for a moment with Valerie in the parlor, 
 then saying that he had a mind for a stroll along 
 the river since the day was so fine, he repaired to 
 the shop where he found Anastro. His request for 
 the key of the house door was promptly complied 
 with. Anastro himself opened the door, after hav 
 ing summoned the man who was usually appointed 
 as escort to the young Middelburger, and thus ac 
 companied, Norbert was soon strolling on the bank 
 of the Scheldt, where the dense forest of masts gave 
 token of the enormous trade of the city. 
 
 Loitering along, Norbert presently recognized a 
 small vessel whose skipper he knew, a vessel
 
 1*1 
 
 which plied between Antwerp and Middelburg with 
 fish and oil. The skipper himself, with his hands 
 thrust deep into his breeches pockets, was lounging 
 on the deck of his boat. With a sudden impulse 
 and access of boldness, Norbert stopped, his com 
 panion stopping also, and shouted a greeting to the 
 sailor. 
 
 The man responded with a cheery holloa and an 
 expression of surprise at seeing Norbert so far from 
 home. 
 
 " When do you set sail for Middelburg ? " called 
 Norbert. 
 
 " To-night with sundown, if I get my cargo in 
 time, else with daylight in the morning," was the 
 shouted answer. " Better come with us, jonker. 
 We'll land you in Middelburg in twenty-four hours 
 if this wind holds. You'll scarce find a better boat 
 nor a faster." 
 
 "Thanks, Master Reuser," said Norbert gayly, 
 " I know your boat well and gladly would I sail with 
 you ; but not on this voyage. A week or two from 
 now it may be thought of. I'll promise to look up 
 your boat then if she is in harbor." 
 
 The skipper made a flourish of his hands in ac 
 knowledgment, and Norbert and his escort passed 
 on. 
 
 For a moment the temptation to give the fellow 
 the slip and board the Middelburg craft had been 
 overstrong. His heart had leaped wildly at the 
 thought of thus speedily and unhindered reaching 
 his father and giving him the warning which he felt 
 to be so urgently required. The thought of leaving 
 little Jacqueline, however, in her lonely prison, for 
 as such Norbert now fully recognized the house of 
 Anastro, sufficed to calm his sudden impulse. More 
 over, a glance at the fellow by his side had shown 
 him a swift motion of his hand to the short sword 
 which hung at his belt, and he concluded, with a 
 strong revulsion of feeling, that the man had re-
 
 1 84 
 
 ceived orders from his master to forcibly prevent 
 any move toward escape on his part. 
 
 As they walked along the river a sense of bitter 
 and vengeful wrath mounted hotly to Norbert's 
 brain. He saw himself tricked, trapped, deceived, 
 betrayed, and held fast in the toils of the Spaniard, 
 whose artifice and craft had so easily gotten the 
 better of his youth and inexperience. On and on 
 with rapid strides he walked through the narrow 
 streets and under the dark shadows of the houses, 
 the agent of Anastro ever dogging his steps, the 
 tempest of rage ever mounting within him. Then 
 unawares, for Norbert had paid no heed to the di 
 rection he took, they came out under the soaring 
 spire of the great cathedral whose chimes rang out 
 just then in joyous benediction over his head. 
 
 With their thrilling peal a softer feeling came into 
 Norbert's heart and subdued his fierce anger. The 
 memory of holy thoughts and sacred words of love 
 and forgiveness stirred within him, and with it his 
 mind grew clear and steady, and with all the power 
 of faith of which he was possessed he cast himself 
 upon the Divine love and protection.
 
 " Over this brazier stood Anastro in his long black gown." 
 
 Page 187
 
 XVII 
 THE NIGHT WORK OF SENOR ANASTRO 
 
 THE evening had passed. The chimes of the 
 cathedral, distant but heard distinctly in the 
 Rue d'Augustin, had rung out the hour of 
 midnight when Norbert, cautiously pushing open 
 the fenestral of his sister's chamber, leaned out, 
 looking down into the shadowed garden. 
 
 Jacqueline, fully dressed in the garments with 
 which he had supplied her, but covered in the bed 
 clothes to her chin, had fallen into a light slumber, 
 as Norbert could see by the faint moon rays which 
 qualified the darkness of the room. He had tried 
 the door and had found it, as he expected, securely 
 locked on the outer side. His own closet pos 
 sessed no window and no other door save that which 
 communicated with the chamber of Jacqueline. 
 
 Norbert was studying quietly, but with a loudly- 
 throbbing heart, what means might be within his 
 grasp for immediate escape from this ill-omened 
 house, means such as were, thus far, hard to dis 
 cover. 
 
 For himself he had a brace of pistols at his belt 
 and a sharp dagger within his doublet. Around his 
 waist, inside his shirt, he wore a money belt which 
 was still fairly well filled, despite the heavy drain 
 of the doctor's and Anastro's charges. Such were 
 his personal resources, to which might be added a 
 lithe body, a stout heart, and a clear head. Jacque 
 line, he was sure, could be counted on for courage, 
 for obedience, and for silence, but what would all 
 these resources avail if no means were to be found 
 to put them to the touch ? 
 
 185
 
 1 86 
 
 The chamber was in the second story of the 
 house. Looking down, Norbert took keen note of 
 the ledges of the windows of the offices immediately 
 below him. They projected slightly. To let him 
 self down by the aid of them into the garden would 
 be difficult, but not impossible for him, but for 
 Jacqueline ? there was the rub. And, once down, 
 to scale the high, blank walls of the garden would 
 be hardly less difficult. But what other method 
 offered itself as even remotely possible ? 
 
 With a sudden impulse and an audacious belief 
 that if he could get down by this means he could 
 also return, Norbert, having closed the door of his 
 own room, swung himself lightly out of the window, 
 and by hard and breathless scrambling with hands 
 and feet, ending in a severe but not serious fall, 
 found himself a minute later on the garden walk 
 not far from the kitchen door. 
 
 To his keen surprise this door stood open. The 
 night was breathless and sultry, the air heavy with 
 thunder from clouds which, hanging low, inter 
 cepted the moon's rays ever and anon. 
 
 With the daring bred of the desperation of the 
 hour, Norbert stole noiselessly into the kitchen, 
 which was wholly dark, save for a single ray of 
 red light which pierced it from the farthest corner. 
 As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom Nor 
 bert, gazing with intense eagerness around him, 
 discerned a narrow flight of stairs, hardly more 
 than a ladder, indeed, which he at once concluded 
 gave access to the servants' sleeping apartments. 
 These, he knew, extended beyond his own quar 
 ters, and were connected with the main corridor of 
 the second story by a dark, winding passage, the 
 outlet of which he had often noticed, near Jacque 
 line's door. This was a discovery worth making, 
 if dubious, for Norbert had been forced by his own 
 experience to wholly abandon the hope of accom 
 plishing Jacqueline's descent by the window. The
 
 187 
 
 question of his own return by that same path was 
 causing him poignant anxiety, but for the present 
 he determined to investigate a little farther in the 
 direction of that red light, which he was confident 
 proceeded from the laboratory of Anastro, the more 
 since from time to time he heard low voices coming 
 from the same direction. 
 
 Groping his way with utmost caution, he soon 
 found that the cook's store-room intervened be 
 tween the kitchen and the source of the light toward 
 which he was working. The store-room gained, 
 he discovered that the light streamed through a 
 small aperture in the wall, arranged evidently to 
 connect the laboratory with the kitchen for the con 
 venience of the master of the house. 
 
 Stooping low, Norbert was able to look through 
 this narrow opening and command a small portion 
 of the laboratory. The door of it stood open into 
 the Red Room, and it was from this apartment that 
 the light and the murmur of voices had penetrated 
 into the kitchen, the intervening laboratory being 
 unlighted. 
 
 A faint, sickening odor pervaded the place, and 
 despite the heat Norbert descried in the Red Room 
 a brazier in which a deep bed of coals was burning. 
 Over this brazier stood Anastro in his long black 
 gown, holding in one hand a small porcelain box 
 from which he took something between his thumb 
 and finger, something which he slowly and care 
 fully sprinkled upon the live coals. This done, he 
 lifted to his nostrils a large sponge and withdrew 
 out of sight. And now a cloud of steam arose pro 
 ceeding from the brazier and the air became charged 
 with the strange odors perceptible before in a slight 
 degree. 
 
 A light laugh startled Norbert. He had not 
 dreamed that Valerie was present, nor could he see 
 her now, but her voice though muffled was un 
 mistakable.
 
 i88 
 
 " Holy Virgin, senor! " she exclaimed, " will you 
 put an end to us all first ? I pray you, excuse me. 
 I congratulate you on your success. Another mo 
 ment and I should offer in my own person full proof 
 of it." 
 
 Norbert heard a door softly open and close and 
 supposed Anastro now to be alone. Dizzy himself, 
 with the mysterious fumes which now filled even 
 his hiding-place, he leaned against the wall, his 
 breath coming hard and fast, and a strange dimness 
 clouding his vision. A sense of vague, bewildering 
 beauty, of nameless, impossible delight surged 
 through his brain. He felt his limbs sinking be 
 neath him in a delicious languor which he cared not 
 to resist. Voices seemed to ring in his ears, min 
 gled with the cathedral chimes and a great onrush- 
 ing tide as of many waters. Far away in some in 
 calculable distance a voice like that of Anastro 
 seemed saying : " Come, now, it is all over." Then 
 a sound, as of a door closing. 
 
 " It would suffice to kill a hundred men." 
 
 Who was it that spoke ? Surely that was the 
 voice of Venero, harsh and menacing. The sug 
 gestion startled Norbert back to his senses and, as 
 the fumes slowly escaped from the narrow closet 
 and the air cleared, he rallied his intelligence and 
 listened again as for his life. 
 
 " Yes. There can be no mistake this time. My 
 part, Venero, is fulfilled. All depends now upon 
 you." 
 
 "Were it not better to make short work, and 
 deal with both ? Two heretics less were better 
 than one." 
 
 "Nay, nay," was the impatient answer, and 
 something followed unintelligible to Norbert's ears 
 as both men now apparently had turned to leave 
 the room. 
 
 Still for another second Norbert waited with 
 straining ears and starting eyes.
 
 He saw Anastro as he passed again across the 
 field of his vision, rubbing his hands slowly to 
 gether, his face full of grave reflection, not agitated, 
 not flushed nor excited. 
 
 Then again the door was opened. 
 
 "Well, Venero, what now?" was Anastro's 
 question. 
 
 " I returned, senor, only to say, that having ac 
 complished the errand on which, please remember, 
 it is you who send me " 
 
 "On which I send you, Venero, and for which 
 the padre has fully absolved you, pray remember," 
 and a touch of scorn could be detected in Anastro's 
 voice. 
 
 " Having done your bidding, if it please you, I 
 will not return hither but get me forthwith to bed. 
 I am weary beyond reason and my head will burst 
 if I cannot soon sleep." 
 
 " Mort Dieu! what care I what you do when 
 you have done your work," muttered Anastro, and 
 again the door closed. 
 
 In three bounds Norbert was up the steep kitchen 
 stairs and at the top of them found himself in a 
 long low room extending over the kitchen in which 
 he dimly discerned several beds. Surely there 
 must be access from this room into the passage 
 whose outlet he had so often seen ! But to find it 
 in this darkness, to find it without stumbling and 
 waking one of the servants ! Was it not to attempt 
 the impossible ? 
 
 Falling on his hands and knees Norbert felt his 
 way along the floor until he came to the wall, which 
 he followed, groping every inch of the way for the 
 sign of a door. The seconds seemed like hours, 
 the close darkness seemed to enswathe him like a 
 mantle and clog his motions, and the sense that 
 with every second Venero was approaching the 
 chamber where Jacqueline lay in her innocent un 
 consciousness almost maddened him. Then sud-
 
 icp 
 
 denly he felt a break in the smooth surface of the 
 wall and knew it for the frame of a door. Thanks 
 be to heaven, the door was open ! In a flash he 
 had gained the dark passage and creeping stealthily 
 along its winding wall in another instant he had 
 reached a point whence he could command a view 
 of the door of Jacqueline's chamber, dimly lighted 
 by the lamp in the corridor. 
 
 It was closed. Absolute stillness was upon the 
 place. Was he too late ? Where was Venero ? 
 Had he, Norbert, been moments, hours, or only 
 seconds in reaching the spot ? Norbert's brain 
 reeled with the uncertainty, but even then soft 
 footsteps could be heard approaching, and he dis 
 tinctly heard in the hush of the midnight the door 
 of Valerie's room close. 
 
 It flashed through Norbert's quickened perception 
 then that Venero had been delayed by the need of 
 securing the key, which was doubtless in the keep 
 ing of Valerie, and he thanked God and braced 
 himself tensely in the dark shadow where he stood 
 for what should follow. 
 
 A sudden coolness and calm came to him as it 
 does to many men in moments of crisis. As if it 
 were quite a matter of course, he saw Venero ap 
 proach the door, holding in one hand the brazier of 
 glowing coals, in the other the key. He saw him 
 unlock the door and softly set it wide open, then 
 turn and take from his doublet the porcelain box 
 which he had noted just now in the hands of Anastro. 
 He saw how, with a swift but careful hand, he scat 
 tered the powder with which the box was filled 
 upon the coals ; again the fumes rose slowly about 
 him and Norbert saw no more, but he followed 
 hard after, with one swift, noiseless bound, the 
 form of the cashier almost lost now in the en 
 shrouding mist proceeding from the brazier. 
 
 As he entered the chamber, Venero was in the 
 act of opening the inner door, and, with a frenzied
 
 sense of exultant release, Norbert perceived that it 
 was he, not Jacqueline, who was to have been the 
 victim. 
 
 In the darkness Norbert stood motionless, while 
 with stealthy swiftness the Spaniard, stretching his 
 arm to its length, placed the burning, steaming 
 brazier inside the threshold, nothing doubting that 
 Norbert was quietly sleeping within. Even as he 
 did so a swift, stinging blow, as from a hammer, 
 struck him behind the ear, knocking him instantly 
 senseless, and, without a sound, he fell in a miser 
 able heap to the floor. 
 
 " Rise instantly, Jacqueline, and be ready to 
 follow me," said Norbert, and the young girl sprang 
 from her bed, awake and ready on the instant, 
 watching with speechless amazement as her brother 
 tied a towel tightly around the gaping mouth and 
 limp, hanging head of Venero, pinioned his arms to 
 his sides with his own belt, and then opening the 
 closet door, dragged or rather flung him on the bed. 
 
 For one instant then Norbert stood irresolute, but, 
 in the school in which he had been taught, revenge 
 had been forbidden. 
 
 Snatching the ewer from Jacqueline's room, he 
 poured its contents upon the brazier, extinguishing 
 its fire ; then he closed the door, locked it, and 
 dropped the key into his pocket. 
 
 Struggling fiercely against the benumbing power 
 of the noxious vapors with which the room, despite 
 the open window, was filled, Norbert, holding 
 Jacqueline hard by her hand, forced himself to 
 pause at the door and listen a second. The still 
 ness of the corridor was unbroken. They must 
 dare all to win or lose within the moments next to 
 follow. 
 
 A few seconds sufficed to close and lock the outer 
 door, the key of which Norbert also pocketed, and 
 then, still undiscovered, brother and sister, hand in 
 hand, panting and dizzy, but still undaunted, fled
 
 down the darkness of the narrow passage to the 
 door by which Norbert had hardly five minutes 
 before emerged from the servants' room. 
 
 " Drop on thy knees and keep close to me," 
 whispered Norbert, as he himself set Jacqueline 
 the example. Suddenly he stopped, for against 
 the dim, gray square of a window the outline of a 
 head was lifted. Juan Jaureguy, the cook's scul 
 lion, half-awakened, sat up in bed for an instant, 
 murmured a few drowsy, meaningless words, and 
 dropped again upon his pillow. More stealthily 
 than before the two crept on again through the 
 long room. The stairs were reached at last, and 
 in another moment they stood in the dark kitchen 
 below. 
 
 The red light still filtered through from the pan 
 try door, but the place was still and the outer door 
 yet open. Light-footed as creatures of the field or 
 forest, the two sprang through into the garden and 
 in another moment were safely hidden among the 
 clustering oleanders lining the high wall. Hardly 
 had they reached this point of vantage when they 
 saw a faint light moving to and fro in the kitchen, 
 and with wildly beating hearts they beheld the tall, 
 gaunt figure of Anastro, a candle in his hand, framed 
 in by the kitchen door. Slowly he descended the 
 shallow steps, advanced a few paces into the path, 
 then turning, gazed fixedly upward at the open 
 fenestral of Jacqueline's chamber, from which thin 
 wreaths of steamy vapor still floated. 
 
 Norbert pressed his sister's hand with a tense 
 grasp. 
 
 " Do not tremble," he breathed in her ear ; " he 
 has heard nothing." 
 
 Apparently satisfied with the results of his ex 
 amination, since the exhalations told that Venero 
 had done his errand, and the open window gave 
 guarantee that Jacqueline, whose presence might 
 still serve his diabolical purpose, would remain
 
 I 9 3 
 
 unharmed, the Spaniard returned to the kitchen. 
 They heard the noise made by the rude bar with 
 which the door was made fast, saw the tiny light 
 diminish, and then all was dark, and the hush of the 
 garden remained unbroken. 
 
 "God helping us," whispered Norbert, "we 
 have four or five hours now in our favor. The next 
 thing for us to do is to take this wall. What may 
 await us in yonder inn, who can tell ? " and he 
 looked up at the house whose upper stories rose 
 dark beyond the wall. 
 
 " We can do it, and nothing we can ever meet 
 can be so bad as those Spanish people," whispered 
 Jacqueline firmly. 
 
 A new spirit and courage had taken possession of 
 the young girl, stimulated by the crucial dangers 
 through which they had already passed and yet 
 more by the joy of at last being free. 
 
 Springing upon an oleander tub, Norbert gave a 
 mighty leap and grasped the upper edge of the wall, 
 which was not less than ten feet high. With the 
 agility of youth and much practice in such feats he 
 had soon swung himself to the top, but instantly 
 fell flat upon his face, measuring his length upon 
 the stones. 
 
 " There are people over here," he whispered 
 cautiously ; "wait a bit." 
 
 The moments passed in almost unendurable sus 
 pense. The moonlight which filled the garden 
 showed Jacqueline Norbert's figure still flattened 
 and motionless above her head. Then she saw 
 him slowly lift one finger to the sky. She looked 
 up. A black cloud of enormous bulk was sweeping 
 upward. Jacqueline saw and her confidence was 
 renewed. Five minutes passed and then, the moon 
 swallowed up in the black folds of the mantling 
 cloud and its light extinguished, Norbert moved 
 again. 
 
 He scrambled to his knees and stretched his hands 
 
 N
 
 194 
 
 down to Jacqueline, who, holding them fast in hers, 
 was quickly though painfully, with many scratches 
 and bruises, drawn up to his side. 
 
 Before them, in the house whose rear court they 
 were about to enter, they could now see lights 
 streaming from the lower windows, doors set wide 
 open, and could hear a confused sound of many 
 voices of men. 
 
 Leaping to the ground, Norbert held up his arms, 
 Jacqueline sprang from the wall into them, and 
 they now stood together and reconnoitered the situa 
 tion. 
 
 "I have taken pains," whispered Norbert, "to 
 observe this house. It faces on a street which 
 leads something directly down to the river, and we 
 must pass through the house to reach the street. 
 There is no other way. It is an inn, but one of a 
 somewhat doubtful character, I have been told. 
 Closed and silent it is through the day much of the 
 time, as I have myself noticed. The goodman, 
 however, seems to do a thriving business at night. 
 I have my own suspicion that it is a resort of 
 Gueux. 1 In any case, Jacqueline, our only hope 
 now is to swagger it through. Be bluff and bold. 
 Do not shrink from thy part, but chance it cheer 
 ily ; use thy wits and we shall win through. Now, 
 forward ! " 
 
 In another moment, with an air of careless con 
 fidence, the two had entered the rear door of the 
 brightly lighted public room of the inn, their en 
 trance scarce observed among the many coming 
 and going. The host, however, Norbert noticed, 
 followed them steadily with his eye from his place 
 behind two great kegs of ale. The room was well 
 filled with gentlemen drinking and dicing, the air 
 redolent of the fumes of wine and spirits and filled 
 with noisy revelry. 
 
 1 The Beggars or Revolutionary party in the Netherlands.
 
 195 
 
 Norbert lounged easily down the room, followed 
 by Jacqueline, who held her head gayly, thrust her 
 hands deep in her pockets, and even whistled a 
 blithe little tune as she looked fearlessly about her. 
 
 " Holloa, jonker ! " cried a cavalier, glancing 
 up from his game of venter point as they passed, 
 " has Brederode come, know you ? " 
 
 " Nay, messire," replied Norbert, doffing his 
 cap, " but I heard outside that he was on his way 
 hither. I will e'en look down the street and see if 
 he be not in sight. He should be ere this," and 
 he moved toward the door, one eye uneasily keep 
 ing watch of the landlord. 
 
 "Do, if you will, jonker," replied the other, 
 carelessly returning to his flagon of Rhenish and 
 his game. " The Great Beggar is late to-night. 
 We have waited on his motions a full hour al 
 ready." 
 
 Norbert and Jacqueline now quickly gained the 
 door of the inn room, which opened upon a narrow 
 entry, giving exit to the street. 
 
 As the door swung to behind them they saw 
 standing at the street door, which he held open 
 with one hand, a man of burly and coarse figure, 
 richly dressed, with long, curling locks, a striking 
 face, features bold and handsome, but purple and 
 coarsened by debauchery. In his right hand he 
 held the reins of his horse, which Norbert could 
 dimly discern standing just beyond him in the dark 
 and narrow street. 
 
 " Body o' me, lad, come hither and hold my 
 horse ! " cried this notable personage imperatively, 
 adding a bewildering string of oaths. " Here have 
 I stood now a full minute, pounding on this door and 
 never a varlet to answer my summons. I was 
 promised here a good hour since, but such a coil as 
 I have had to hinder me, and when at last I could 
 start, not a devil of a servant was to be found ! " 
 
 Norbert had already taken the reins from the
 
 196 
 
 hand of the Seigneur de Brederode, for in the cava 
 lier before him he instantly recognized the notorious 
 leader of the Beggars, the wild, reckless descendant 
 of the sovereign counts of Holland. That he had 
 been during the preceding months ceaselessly en 
 gaged in the enterprise of secretly enrolling troops 
 for an attack upon the Spanish troops in the towns 
 of Walcheren was well known to Norbert. His 
 presence in this obscure Antwerp inn to meet such 
 a company was wholly in character. 
 
 " Can you stand for me here an hour or two, my 
 lad ? " asked Brederode, as he pushed open the 
 inner door, too impatient for long parley ; " Beggars 
 pay in gold sometimes, you know," he added with 
 a careless laugh. 
 
 "Gladly, gladly, my lord," returned Norbert 
 with hearty emphasis ; " and you can pay in silver, 
 or pay not at all, as you please. It were little to 
 do for the cause," he added in a lower voice. 
 
 "Right, youngster, right," answered Brederode, 
 and paused, albeit impatiently. " I see you're 
 made of the right stuff. Have you enrolled with 
 any of my men ? You're of fighting age, and that 
 young brother of yours is old enough, methinks, to 
 wear a sword." 
 
 " I have entered the service of the prince," said 
 Norbert, sinking his voice to a whisper, " and shall 
 soon be on my way to Germany." 
 
 " Hah, sits the wind in that quarter ? " cried the 
 great seigneur; "take my loving greeting then to 
 the Nassaus, but bide not over long in Germany. 
 Bid them hurry back. There will be wild work 
 here ere long," and with the words the door closed 
 upon his burly figure. 
 
 Norbert and Jacqueline now stepped into the 
 street, closing the inn door behind them. The 
 reins of Brederode's horse, a spirited, blooded crea 
 ture, were over Norbert's arm. In silence and deep 
 thought he stood for a moment.
 
 I 9 7 
 
 " Jacqueline," he said at last, " there is but one 
 way for us, much as I mislike it. My lord of 
 Brederode must wait a week or two for his horse. 
 Mount," and therewith he held out his hand and 
 Jacqueline mounted at once, then Norbert leaped 
 into the saddle and touching the animal a light flick 
 of the reins, they dashed down toward the river. 
 
 " Is it not wicked, Norbert ? " whispered Jacque 
 line, terrified at -this procedure. 
 
 "Very," replied Norbert, too much absorbed in 
 the immediate solution of the problem of their in 
 stant departure from Antwerp to canvass the moral 
 aspects of the step he had felt forced to take. 
 
 Without hesitation they directed their course to 
 the Scheldt and to the ship of Master Reuser. Dis 
 mounting, Norbert left Jacqueline to hold the horse, 
 and, dropping over the edge of the rude wharf to 
 the deck of the vessel, he hailed the watch with a 
 curt command to knock up the skipper on the in 
 stant. 
 
 Stupid and drowsy, Master Reuser presently 
 stumbled up the hatchway, his sharp surprise at 
 seeing Norbert, however, making him instantly 
 wide awake. 
 
 In a brief, whispered colloquy the young man 
 now offered the ship's master a sum of money so 
 large as to completely dazzle the worthy man if he 
 would up sail and start down the river without a 
 moment's delay, taking as passengers, so far as 
 Hoedenskerke, himself, his young cousin, and his 
 horse. 
 
 The slowness of the phlegmatic sailor in reaching 
 a decision produced perhaps the most painful crisis 
 of the night's experiences to Norbert. At every 
 sound he felt the approach of a pursuer, and his 
 eyes stared painfully into the darkness to discern 
 Jacqueline still waiting, still in safety. 
 
 " But, my young sir," said Master Reuser at 
 last, " what an' if we do drop down the river a
 
 1 98 
 
 league or so ? We can make no progress till the 
 tide turn, for this wind is hardly enough to fill a 
 flag. We could but anchor under Osterwell and 
 wait for day." 
 
 "That is all I ask," cried Norbert eagerly. 
 " You admit that your cargo, though late in com 
 ing, is now complete. You hear my offer, my 
 good friend. You know my father's son would not 
 ask you to go on a fool's errand. What I ask is 
 ' under the cross.' What say you ? " 
 
 Norbert believed that the sailor was at heart 
 a Beggar, and he determined to risk this last ap 
 peal, well as he knew the danger. 
 
 The captain turned quickly on his heel. 
 
 " Pipe up the men," he said, turning to the man 
 on the watch. " Tell them to make small noise 
 about it, but get her under weigh quicker than ever 
 they did before." 
 
 Then turning to Norbert, who was already climb 
 ing back to the wharf, he said softly : 
 
 " I conceive you, sir. Your haste is for the cause, 
 either to save life or country. That is enough. 
 You can command me." 
 
 Jacqueline and the good steed of the Baron of 
 Brederode were soon safely conveyed to the deck 
 of the vessel, and, to Norbert's indescribable relief, 
 they found themselves in half an hour slowly slip 
 ping down the river. 
 
 Anchoring a few leagues down stream beneath 
 the walls of the small village of Osterwell, where, 
 but three months before, the patriots under young 
 Marnix had met such a bloody death, they were 
 ready to take early advantage of the turning tide. 
 
 With the first dawn of day, under a fair and fa 
 voring breeze, they set sail for the village of Hoe- 
 denskerke, whence the horse of the Seigneur de 
 Brederode and a ferry across from Beveland to 
 their own island of Walcheren would bring them in 
 a few hours to Middelburg.
 
 XVIII 
 
 IN THE KING'S NAME 
 
 r "PHEY had left their horse outside the city gates 
 to be stabled for the night and sent back to 
 the lord of Brederode in the morning. 
 
 Under the stars of the sweet June night they 
 stood, Norbert and Jacqueline, at the carved portico 
 of the house in the Lange Delft. At last they were 
 at home. The house was dark, however, and 
 strangely still, as still as the house plague-visited 
 at whose door they had knocked in vain two months 
 since in Antwerp. 
 
 " Norbert," said Jacqueline, with a strange tre 
 mor in her voice, " what is that fastened across the 
 door ? Look ! It is a chain." 
 
 Yes, a chain fastened by a padlock, a padlock 
 sealed and stamped with the king's arms, the cog 
 nizance of Philip, by the grace of God king of Spain 
 and the Netherlands. 
 
 Norbert's heart gave one mighty leap and then 
 stood still. For an instant they stared at one an 
 other as if paralyzed. Then taking Jacqueline's 
 wrist in a grasp which was like that of a vice, Nor 
 bert hurried out from the portico and around the 
 street corner, down the dark alley to the vaulted 
 entrance to the courtyard. 
 
 In a house across the narrow way a casement 
 window was pushed open then and a light curtain 
 blew out in the wind of the summer night. 
 
 They had reached the inner gate of wrought iron 
 now with its gilded crest of the Tontorfs. Through 
 its grating they could look into the moonlit court 
 yard, most familiar, most dear, and yet wearing 
 
 199
 
 2OO 
 
 now a cold, unresponding emptiness. The long low 
 buildings with their ivied walls and their many win 
 dows, darkly mysterious, seemed to stare at them 
 as if they were strangers. Nowhere was welcome, 
 no light burned for them, no eye watched. 
 
 Norbert passed his hand across the iron gate and 
 felt a chain. On the chain was a padlock, and on 
 the padlock the seal of the majesty of Spain. 
 
 Then there was a step behind them and Hen- 
 drika, the faithful servant, stood in the deep shadow 
 of the vaulted entrance and wept. 
 
 "Come," she said. "I have watched for you. 
 Come. You must not be seen here," and she led 
 them across the dark lane and into the open door 
 of a house of the humbler sort. Upstairs they fol 
 lowed her to a garret room without a window. 
 Here Hendrika gave them seats and set down her 
 flickering candle on a broken stool. 
 
 Then they saw that her eyes were well-nigh 
 washed away in tears and her poor face deeply fur 
 rowed, changed to that of an aged and woe-worn 
 woman. 
 
 " Children, dear young master, precious little 
 Juffrouw Jacqueline, I cannot talk about it. It is 
 more than can be borne," and she burst into bitter 
 weeping. " All are gone, all, all ! " 
 
 "Gone where?" Norbert spoke at last. He 
 was as if paralyzed. Were they too late ? Had the 
 bitter struggle they had made availed naught ? 
 
 "To God, dear young master," and Hendrika 
 sobbed wildly. " Saints in heaven are they now, 
 my master, my mistress, my angel, little lady 
 Helma!" 
 
 "Hendrika," said Norbert steadily, "you must 
 be quiet and tell me if it is surely too late for me to 
 strike a blow for them yet." The thing was mon 
 strous, incredible ! He refused to believe it. Such 
 things were doubtless of daily occurrence in the 
 stricken country, but not to them, his own, his
 
 201 
 
 dearest, noblest, best beloved. Such a doom could 
 not have come thus swiftly, thus awfully ! 
 
 "Too late," wailed Hendrika ; "oh yes, too 
 late. Pastor Droust and Mijnheer Heldring went 
 after them to the Hague and would fain have inter 
 posed, but it was all in vain. The warrant was 
 served by the servants of the regent herself. The 
 complaint had been lodged they say in due form 
 with the authorities in Brussels." 
 
 " By whom was the complaint made ? " 
 
 " No one knows ! " 
 
 "When did it happen ? " 
 
 " Four days ago we were routed out of bed at 
 daybreak and searched and examined as to our re 
 ligion and our loyalty. The master and Mevrouw 
 Tontorf and the dear Juffrouw Helma and the book 
 keeper were the only ones taken into custody. Oh, 
 but the wretches went everywhere searching for 
 Bibles and such like tokens, but not one could they 
 find. They were securely hid, even from our own 
 people." 
 
 "Was there among these officials a man who 
 spoke with a Spanish accent ; a man of dark brow 
 and evil, lowering glance ; a man clad in a brown 
 doublet, much stained and worn ? " asked Norbert 
 with stifled voice. 
 
 "Oh, yes!" cried Hendrika. "He was the 
 worst, the most pitiless and bitter of all. He had 
 an evil eye and most determined was he to find 
 some trace of printed heresy." 
 
 "Go on," said Norbert. His arms were around 
 Jacqueline's waist, her head had sunk upon his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " I cannot, dear young master, I cannot ! It is 
 too terrible ! Others will tell you of their glorious 
 death, for so it was, in full faith and constancy. To 
 have a father and mother who wear the martyr 
 crown is not that greater glory, dear master Nor 
 bert, than if they wore a kingly one ? "
 
 202 
 
 " Hendrika," said Norbert, rising with the calm 
 ness of despair and untwining Jacqueline's arms 
 from his neck. " Care you for the child. You see 
 she is fainting. I must visit the pastor and know 
 all that he can tell me." 
 
 " Go to Mijnheer Heldring, the cloth syndic. 
 He was ever your father's friend, and he also 
 went to the Hague and showed himself loyal and 
 courageous. He can tell you all," interposed Hen 
 drika. 
 
 "Rather will I go to Pastor Droust, " said Nor 
 bert. " He went with them also, you say." 
 
 "Yes, Master Norbert; the poor man was with 
 them to the very end. But go not to him not 
 now," and Hendrika began to sob and wring her 
 hands. 
 
 " Wherefore should I not ? " 
 
 " The sight of it, the shock of it," moaned Hen 
 drika, "have crazed him. He is wild and wander 
 ing in his speech, and has neither slept nor eaten 
 since that dreadful day. ' Doom and darkness ! 
 Doom and darkness ! ' he cries incessantly. It is 
 better that you should not see him." 
 
 For a moment Norbert stood as if stupefied and 
 then staggered out into the night, determined, if it 
 took his own life or reason, to know the story to its 
 last dregs of agony. 
 
 Until daybreak he sat with the kindly syndic, 
 Heldring, the faithful friend of Nikolaas Tontorf, 
 who had accompanied the doomed family to the 
 Hague. 
 
 All that Heldring could say but confirmed Hen- 
 drika's story and filled out with heartrending details 
 the awful outline which she had given. From the 
 scene of martyrdom, it was but too true, the faith 
 ful pastor and devoted friend of the Tontorf family 
 had returned with heart broken and reason shat 
 tered. 
 
 As for details, the complaint had been duly
 
 2O3 
 
 lodged and credibly certified by citizens of names 
 unknown of Antwerp that Nikolaas Tontorf printed 
 and distributed Bibles and hymnals at his estab 
 lishment at Middelburg, where he also permitted 
 gatherings of malcontents and heretics and harbored 
 and succored such persons. On this complaint 
 the printer and his family had been arrested and 
 conveyed to the Hague. Neither the master nor 
 his wife nor daughter could or would deny the 
 charges, which were furiously pressed by one Ve- 
 nero, who had been sent as witness by the regent 
 from Brussels. The trial had taken place imme 
 diately upon their arrival at the Hague. They had 
 all four been lodged for the night in the Gevangen- 
 poort, where they had spent the night in singing 
 hymns, repeating portions of Scripture, and in 
 prayer, praying most of all for the beloved absent 
 children. 
 
 At daybreak they had been led to the scaffold 
 erected in the Binnenhof, and, with majestic forti 
 tude and unfailing, fearless faith, had faced and 
 tasted death. 
 
 " No one who looked upon them," said Mijnheer 
 Heldring, " could pity them, but rather envy them 
 that they witnessed so good a confession and met 
 a death in which they seemed to find no sting. If 
 you could but have seen the look on your father's 
 face ! He saw what others saw not. His last 
 words were, 'Master, I come.' As for Helma, her 
 face was like the face of a bride going out to meet 
 her husband serene, high, and of a seraphic sweet 
 ness. Your mother alone wept, but it was not for 
 herself, nor even for those who tasted martyrdom 
 by her side." 
 
 " I know," said Norbert softly. " It was for us."
 
 XIX 
 " AS A WOODCOCK TO MINE OWN SPRINGE " 
 
 AT five o'clock in the morning, in the house 
 in the Rue d'Augustin, Senor Anastro was 
 stirring. 
 
 Too restless, too eager to know the results of his 
 experiment to await the appearance of Venero, who 
 was not likely to present himself for an hour or two 
 longer, the Spaniard soon proceeded to the chamber 
 of the cashier. 
 
 Opening the door cautiously, Anastro looked into 
 the room only to find it empty and the bed undis 
 turbed. 
 
 For a moment the Spaniard stood irresolute, 
 wholly unable to explain to himself this surprising 
 turn of affairs. Then, with swift steps, he hastened 
 to Jacqueline's door, which he found locked, as he 
 expected, and the key gone. 
 
 Valerie's room was next visited, but here a new 
 surprise awaited the master of the house. Ve 
 nero had not brought back the key to her. In fact, 
 she told' Anastro that she had requested that he 
 should not disturb her again that night. The less 
 she knew about the proceedings the better it suited 
 her. 
 
 The present whereabouts of the cashier now 
 became a matter of intense nervous anxiety to 
 Anastro. That he had not left the house the close- 
 barred outer doors and windows seemed to give 
 full proof. 
 
 "Where is he?" Anastro hissed between his 
 teeth, standing with cadaverous face and haggard 
 eyes in the middle of the Red Room in the gray 
 204
 
 205 
 
 early light. " What has been going on here ? " and 
 he bent a malevolent glance of suspicion upon Va 
 lerie, who had followed him downstairs, wrapped 
 in a rich purple robe, her hair streaming over her 
 shoulders, her white feet bare. 
 
 " You grew a trifle amorous, methinks, over that 
 same yellow-haired Dutch varlet, senora. If there 
 has been treachery here in my own house make 
 sure I shall sift it to the bottom, and that speedily ! " 
 
 Valerie faced him without flinching, with a hard 
 little laugh and a slight yawn, whether real or pre 
 tended, no one could have guessed. She was born 
 an actor. 
 
 "My good friend," she said, "you are some 
 thing wild in your guessing this morning. I fear 
 you have not slept, or that the fumes of your mar 
 velous discovery have found lodgment in your own 
 brain. The jonker was not ill-looking, but a more 
 churlish wight in his attendance upon a lady saw I 
 never. Truly he wearied me too much that I 
 should take his part, the simpleton ! prating of his 
 lady whom he had never seen," and the venomed 
 glance of Valerie's dark eyes satisfied the Spaniard 
 that if her devotion to himself were wavering her 
 spite would yet have kept her true to his interest. 
 
 "But the question is," he cried impatiently, 
 " where is Venero at this moment ? " 
 
 " Doubless locked into one room or the other of 
 those luckless babes, who may be pardoned if they 
 over-sleep this morning by an hour or two," re 
 plied Valerie with a heartless laugh. " It may even 
 be that the very worthy Venero is caught in his own 
 trap." 
 
 The idea seized Anastro at once that she was 
 right, that the cashier had locked the outer door 
 upon himself after entering Jacqueline's room, and 
 then, overcome by the fumes of the burning pow 
 der, had been rendered powerless to leave the fate 
 ful spot.
 
 206 
 
 Selecting two or three tools from a case, Anastro 
 quickly returned to the upper corridor, and in a few 
 minutes had succeeded in forcing the lock of Jac 
 queline's chamber door. 
 
 The morning light and the pure air streamed in 
 through the open fenestral, fast dispelling the nox 
 ious odors which still lingered in the dreary little 
 room, but a glance showed the master of the house 
 that the room was empty. 
 
 " Surely this becomes mysterious," said the light 
 voice of Valerie behind him. " If yon closet has 
 no tale to tell, we may confess ourselves out 
 witted." 
 
 Without a word, but with face livid now with 
 poisonous fury, Anastro, finding the inner door like 
 wise locked and the key gone, again applied his 
 tools. The door soon sprang open under his pres 
 sure, disclosing the cold, flooded brazier and the 
 figure of Venero, gagged, bound, and insensible on 
 the narrow pallet. 
 
 With trembling hands, hard, eager, loveless, 
 Anastro tore off the bandages and laid his ear upon 
 the man's heart. Valerie read in his look as he 
 lifted his head that there was yet life remaining. 
 
 She turned back to Jacqueline's room and brought 
 therefrom certain flasks, which she handed to 
 Anastro. 
 
 " He will live," she said carelessly, disgust 
 plainly written on her face as she glanced at the 
 ghastly object on the bed. " Knaves of his kind 
 die hard. Besides that poor, pious fool who bound 
 him destroyed his own weapons see ! " and she 
 pointed to the black, swimming brazier, shaking her 
 head and adding with low laughter : 
 
 "Fools! Fools!" 
 
 Anastro looked but did not speak. 
 
 " Beshrew me, Senor Anastro," Valerie con 
 tinued, " but I had hardly thought you could have 
 been so merrily outwitted by those children ! In
 
 2O7 
 
 good sooth they seem to have been shrewder than 
 you. My dear little Jacqueline must have ruffled it 
 bravely in the streets of Antwerp in her nightgown ! 
 Pardon me if I do not offer my services in nursing 
 our excellent Venero back to life. I am so confi 
 dent, you see, of his recovery, but his appearance 
 at the moment is most shocking," and with that 
 Valerie made good her retreat to her own room. 
 
 During the hours which followed, Doctor Hoek- 
 stra, hastily summoned, succeeded in rousing the 
 benumbed brain of Venero, and promised at least 
 partial recovery in time. Anastro, keenly mortified 
 but not seriously embarrassed by the escape of his 
 victims, swiftly ferreted out the means and ways 
 of their departure. The servants confessed that on 
 account of the sultry heat of the night the door of 
 their chamber which gave entrance upon the inner 
 passage, had, against the master's orders been left 
 open. This door, which he had supposed securely 
 barred on the inner side, might have given exit. 
 The boy Juan remembered vaguely that something 
 had disturbed him in his sleep, although what he 
 could not tell. 
 
 "Ah, well," reflected the merchant, restored to 
 his wonted grave and philosophical calmness ; " it 
 matters but little at most, unless the Brussels peo 
 ple call my claim in question. In that event I would 
 gladly have had the child Jacqueline ready as a 
 witness ; for if put to the torture we could doubtless 
 have drawn the whole story from her, and she 
 would have been palpably a witness of my pro 
 curing. The brother was wholly superfluous and 
 withal dangerous and would better have been 
 quietly and painlessly slipped out of the way. He 
 may yet make us trouble, though I hardly think 
 it." 
 
 But a threat of trouble came a day or two later 
 from an unexpected quarter. 
 
 Anastro, sitting in his shop, was studying with
 
 208 
 
 greedy satisfaction the documents newly arrived 
 from Brussels, conveying full transference of his 
 share in the confiscated estates of Nikolaas Tontorf. 
 He looked up to note the entrance of a man of 
 powerful, massive figure, flushed face, and fiery 
 eyes, who with threatening air stepped straight to 
 him and in whom he recognized with keen alarm 
 the dreaded, albeit derided, lord of Brederode. 
 
 In his hand the great seigneur held a slip of 
 paper. 
 
 " Hear this ! " he cried with startling abruptness, 
 " you black-hearted plotter," and he read in a roar 
 ing, declamatory tone: 
 
 " ' Pardon the unwilling kidnapping of your good 
 horse. It comes herewith back to you with money 
 for its hire. It was taken only because our case 
 was for life or death and perchance to save many 
 lives better than ours. Beware of the merchant 
 Anastro. He is the foul fiend incarnate.' 
 
 " Do you know, sir," thundered Brederode, " who 
 scratched those lines on that scrap of paper ? " 
 
 "I can guess," said Anastro, grown yellow and 
 with wild, wandering glances. 
 
 "You can guess, and so can I," and Brederode 
 coming yet nearer by a step, took the long beard 
 of the Spaniard in his mighty hand, around which he 
 sharply twisted it and continued to emphasize what 
 he said with merciless jerks and shakes of the mer 
 chant's head. 
 
 " Look you, you mammering coward, you sneak 
 ing informer, you poisonous reptile, you foul mur 
 derer ! Antwerp knows to-day of your damnable 
 deeds and is ready to visit them on your head. 
 You, gloating over the booty you rob from the men 
 whom your infamous treachery betrays to their 
 death ; you, true subject of your king ; you, fit only 
 for the pad-midden, where I fain would fling you ! 
 Hear me get out of Antwerp ere the sun set or I 
 will put a bullet through that devil's brain of you,
 
 209 
 
 or soil my blade with your heart's blood ! " And 
 almost foaming at the mouth, the great Beggar gave 
 the Spaniard a final mighty and paralyzing shake 
 and threw him half across the shop. 
 
 This done, he strode out of the place, with 
 clenched teeth, clanking sword, and face flushed 
 with furious anger. 
 
 An hour later he left Antwerp for Embden never 
 to return. Dying within the year the Seigneur de 
 Brederode had not the cause which would have 
 come to him with the coming years, bitterly to re 
 pent that blade or bullet had not in that hour ex 
 tinguished the life of Anastro. 
 
 That night found the house in the Rue d'Augustin 
 deserted. Whither its master and inmates had 
 fled few cared to ask. Some said that Paris was 
 their destination, being a refuge well suited to those 
 who chose for a time to be forgotten.
 
 XX 
 
 BURG-FRIED 
 
 IT was the close of an August day. Over the 
 richly wooded Nassau country, far to the east 
 of the Rhine, diversified with range upon range 
 of purple hills, outposts of the Taunus Mountains, 
 the sun was shedding his last gorgeous rays. 
 
 Following the course of a shallow, sparkling river, 
 the River Dill, a high-road threaded a verdant valley 
 and furnished an approach to the red-roofed village 
 of Dillenburg, clinging around the base of a pre 
 cipitous hill. 
 
 Towering far above this rugged height, into whose 
 rocky surface it seemed to have been impregnably 
 rooted, rose the lofty and lonely feudal castle of 
 Nassau-Dillenburg. 
 
 The setting sun illuminated the battlements of 
 the vast, imposing pile, softening the surface of the 
 rough and hoary stone and giving a strangely solemn 
 beauty to the massive facade with its numberless 
 towers, gateways, barbicans, and outworks. 
 
 The stillness of the great and almost unbroken 
 wilderness lay upon the landscape, upon the sea of 
 billowing hills stretching to the dim horizon, upon 
 the rich green of oaks and beeches clustering close 
 about the quiet village, upon the valley piercing its 
 way westward between the hills, with the flashing 
 river touched now with the golden radiance of sun 
 set. The whole scene seemed, however, subordi 
 nate to the castle which in its stern grandeur ap 
 peared as much a primitive part of the landscape as 
 did the rocky height on which it was built or the 
 dim peaks of the Taunus Mountains on the horizon. 
 
 210
 
 211 
 
 A dash of hoofs on the rough paving of the nar 
 row village street brought the Dillenburg children 
 to their cottage doors only to see a young man upon 
 a dark bay horse, unattended, spurring up the steep 
 ascent to the castle, whose walls frowned formid 
 ably hard above the roofs of the timbered houses. 
 
 This rider, who now proceeded more slowly be 
 tween the solid walls of masonry which guarded 
 the approach to the castle, was Norbert Tontorf. 
 
 Two months had passed since, in the agony of 
 their maddening grief, he and Jacqueline had for 
 saken by night the city of Middelburg, so dear in 
 its associations to them, the sealed and darkened 
 home no longer theirs, and had wandered on their 
 heart-broken way to Breda. With them had come 
 the Pastor Droust, still piteously crazed, but harm 
 less and sacred to Norbert for his devotion to their 
 father. 
 
 Norbert, at first fierce with the thirst to visit such 
 punishment as was meet upon Anastro and his 
 despicable tools, found himself baffled by the knowl 
 edge which soon reached him that the guilty trio 
 had disappeared absolutely from Antwerp. A price 
 was set upon his own head, for the Spaniard had had 
 time to cause the issue of a warrant against the 
 son of Nikolaas Tontorf by the authorities of the 
 regent, before he fled the town. Condemned there 
 fore to keep in hiding, reduced to poverty by the 
 confiscation of his father's estates, and to submis 
 sion for a time at least to a life of utter inaction in 
 the friendly shelter of the home of the Van Maries, 
 Norbert sank into a listless, hopeless apathy from 
 which nothing availed to arouse him. 
 
 Then, with the first days of August came the 
 tidings to Breda that the Duke of Alva with his 
 army, hasty and terrible, had accomplished the 
 march through Burgundy unhindered, and in twelve 
 days had entered Lorraine. Another fortnight of 
 such marching could bring them to the Flemish
 
 212 
 
 borders. Like an alarum this tidings struck the 
 Protestants of Holland. Some it paralyzed. Some it 
 aroused to flee for their lives, and day after day 
 a stream of out-wanderers flowed steadily on by 
 every road leading into Germany or France, and by 
 every ship departing for England. 
 
 The family of the Van Maries were among the 
 emigrants and Heidelberg, with its devout and great 
 hearted Protestant elector, Friedrich der Fromm, 
 was their haven of refuge. 
 
 A day's preparation sufficed, for few household 
 goods could be carried with the exiles, and so with 
 aching hearts the little cavalcade on the third day 
 of August started up the Rhine on its long journey. 
 
 At Cologne the unhappy Pastor Droust, who had 
 accompanied them so far, disappeared from their 
 company and they saw him no more. 
 
 Arrived in Heidelberg the refugees found them 
 selves in an atmosphere of calm and safety which 
 made amends for the sacrifice of the home they 
 had left, shadowed as it was with dread and dan 
 ger. 
 
 Through the kind offices of friends, Vrouw Van 
 Marie was appointed to a post of usefulness and 
 honor in the economy of the great castle. The 
 heartbroken child, Jacqueline, whose crushing 
 sorrow commended her to the tender sympathy of 
 the noble electress herself, found at last a place of 
 peace and consolation, and so it came about that on 
 that late August day Norbert Tontorf was set free 
 to start out and win his spurs in the cause of his 
 prince, his land, and his lady. 
 
 With manly courage he shook off the languor 
 which a grief over-great had laid upon him, and 
 with his heart strengthened by new resolve he 
 fared forth on his way to Dillenburg. He was no 
 longer the light-hearted ardent youth of six months 
 ago, impulsive and buoyant. The awful baptism 
 of blood through which he had passed had set its
 
 213 
 
 seal forever on his heart. He was a man now, of 
 a purpose sterner and more determined, devoted 
 with a mighty passion to the salvation of his op 
 pressed people, a passion in which love and hate, 
 scorn and sorrow were welded together. 
 
 With less of romantic enthusiasm, therefore, than 
 he would once have felt in like circumstances, but 
 with a deeper and more unconquerable devotion, 
 Norbert, now at his journey's end, made his way 
 up to the isolated chateau which had been the 
 birthplace and was now for a time the place of 
 refuge of the Prince of Orange. 
 
 The young Zeelander found the courtyard of the 
 castle, which he entered by a noble stone gate 
 emblazoned with the Nassau arms, filled with a 
 merry company of young noblemen, with their 
 grooms and attendants. A magnificent buck had 
 just been brought in as the result of the day's 
 hunt in the forest and the young counts of Nassau, 
 Adolf and Henry, were presiding over the inspec 
 tion of its points. 
 
 Norbert was amazed at the impregnable strength 
 of the castle, which was also a fortress, and at its 
 vast extent as seen now from within. Ample for 
 the accommodation of a thousand persons he judged 
 it, and no longer did he wonder that the prince with 
 his retinue of over a hundred and fifty persons 
 could find hospitable entertainment here. 
 
 Before one of the castle doors Norbert soon caught 
 sight of the Princess Marie of Orange, standing 
 whip in hand in her graceful hunting habit, a charm 
 ing girlish figure. He had seen her several times 
 in the early spring riding through the streets of her 
 father's own city of Breda. 
 
 A bluff gentleman, with the aspect of a country 
 squire, a man of somewhat immobile face and a 
 figure of massive proportions, now came from the 
 interior of the castle and stood looking down at 
 Marie with a fond, fatherly glance.
 
 214 
 
 Seeing him the young girl moved to his side with 
 an affectionate exclamation : 
 
 " Ach, lieber Onkel! " and nestled her small hand 
 in the large cordial clasp of his. 
 
 Norbert as he watched these two thus evidently 
 drawn together by close and tender sympathy 
 despite the disparity in their years, concluded that 
 Marie's lieber Onkel was Count John, next in age 
 to the Prince of Orange and the present lord of 
 Nassau-Dillenburg. 
 
 Count John bore the unmistakable Nassau phys 
 iognomy, albeit Norbert found him almost stolid 
 and commonplace in comparison with his illustrious 
 brothers, William and Louis. Nevertheless he per 
 ceived, even in this casual observation, a certain 
 sturdy strength and rugged constancy which might 
 be hardly less important in a time of crisis than the 
 penetrating intellect and commanding power of the 
 one and the blithe audacity and high spirit of the 
 other. 
 
 The Princess Marie caught sight ere long of 
 Norbert and after a moment's scrutiny she beck 
 oned him to her side. 
 
 " I have seen you before. I have seen you in 
 dear old Breda. What, if you please, is your 
 name ? " 
 
 "Norbert Tontorf, your highness." 
 
 A swift change came over the face of Marie, and 
 she murmured a few gentle words of sympathy for 
 his loss, of which the news had reached Dillenburg. 
 
 11 Do you wish to go at once to my father, Mas 
 ter Tontorf ? " she asked kindly. 
 
 " If it please your highness," said Norbert in a 
 low, toneless voice, his face grown gray and stern 
 on the instant. 
 
 Count John called a page and bade him accom 
 pany Norbert to the antechamber of the prince. 
 He gave the young Zeelander a hearty welcome to 
 Dillenburg, and Norbert felt with quick gratitude
 
 215 
 
 the free-hearted hospitality of the house and its 
 head. 
 
 Passing through a lofty and ancient hall, decked 
 with the trophies of the chase, with stone floor 
 rush-strewn and roof upheld by mighty rafters, 
 Norbert was led on to a distant part of the castle 
 known as the Diedrichs-bau, which was set apart 
 for the accommodation of the most distinguished 
 son of the house with his family and retinue. 
 
 Entering a meagrely furnished apartment, dimly 
 lighted now by such evening gleams as filtered 
 through the narrow windows, which were scarce 
 more than slits in the huge depth of the wall, the 
 page, indicating a closed door at the far end of the 
 room, remarked : 
 
 " His excellency is at present engaged at the 
 evening meal with the princess. When he comes 
 into this room, and that will haply be ere long, you 
 can easily present yourself to him if I am not here." 
 
 Smiling a little, Norbert sat down near one of 
 the windows through which he could catch a glimpse 
 of the enchanting valley of the Dill. Plainly 
 etiquette at the Nassau-Dillenburg castle was 
 something relaxed from the ceremonious character 
 which belonged to the court of the prince in his 
 own castle. Moreover, the bare though noble 
 simplicity of his present surroundings suggested 
 a striking contrast to the luxurious magnificence 
 of Nassau-Breda. 
 
 Norbert's attention, however, was soon forcibly 
 attracted from this casual consideration by a series 
 of shrill and angry exclamations in the adjoining 
 room, distinctly audible, although a heavy oaken 
 door was closed between. 
 
 The voice he recognized as that of Anne of Sax 
 ony. 
 
 " I will go to Cologne ! I am going ! You can 
 not stop me ! I will die rather than stay in this 
 place!"
 
 2l6 
 
 Cries like these, interspersed with passionate pro 
 fanity and incoherent raving, jarred upon Norbert's 
 ears painfully ; with them were mingled two other 
 voices ; that of the prince himself, quiet and gentle, 
 and that of a woman. 
 
 Unwilling to listen to the shameful and distress 
 ing tokens of what was plainly a furious, outbreak 
 of the stormy temper of the princess, Norbert rose 
 and paced the floor, seeking to withdraw his atten 
 tion from the lamentable sounds. Suddenly, after 
 a loud series of violent but unintelligible protests, 
 there struck upon his ears the noise of shivering 
 glass and the crash of metal thrown upon the stone 
 floor. In another moment the door upon which his 
 eyes were involuntarily fixed, opened into a brightly 
 lighted dining hall, and he caught a glimpse of the 
 prince himself as he bowed from the room a grave 
 and stately dame who, as the door closed after her, 
 passed rapidly down the antechamber and departed, 
 not having observed Norbert's presence in her evi 
 dent agitation. 
 
 The young man, however, had taken note of the 
 dignity of her person, the grace of her bearing, her 
 plain black velvet gown, the keys hanging from her 
 girdle by their silver chains, the wide, transparent 
 ruff and simple widow's cap of sheer white muslin. 
 He believed that he had seen the noble dowager, 
 Juliana of Stolberg, mother of the Nassaus, and 
 chatelaine of the castle. 
 
 A long half-hour ensued, in which Norbert, despite 
 his own will, could not but hear a prolonged sound 
 of low sobbing and the steady, soothing tones of 
 the prince himself. Doors opened and closed ; steps 
 could be heard going to and fro in the room ; these 
 sounds ceased also, and then at last the prince him 
 self entered the antechamber. 
 
 His countenance was careworn, his dress dark 
 and plain, his step hurried. Around his left wrist 
 he had carelessly wound a white linen napkin, ap-
 
 217 
 
 parently snatched in haste from the table. A dark 
 stain of spilled wine discolored a corner which hung 
 from the wrist, but as Norbert stepped hastily for 
 ward his eye caught, on the wrapping of the wrist 
 itself, a more vivid and a slowly increasing stain. 
 
 On seeing Norbert, the prince, with his rare self- 
 mastery, instantly banished every token of his own 
 anxiety and preoccupation, and received the young 
 Zeelander with gentle cordiality and sympathy. 
 
 The first interchange over, he insisted on leading 
 Norbert into his own dining hall, and calling for 
 fresh food and wine, entertained him with substan 
 tial hospitality. 
 
 All tokens of the accident had been removed, the 
 crash of which Norbert had so plainly heard, and 
 the painful consequence of which he could not fail 
 to see. The room was worthily although not luxu 
 riously furnished, and the meal of which Norbert 
 now partook was served on the prince's own gold 
 and silver plate, brought from Breda, with the mag 
 nificence of which Norbert was mightily impressed. 
 
 As Norbert ate with sound and hearty hunger, 
 the prince asked questions which he answered, as 
 far as he was able. 
 
 Yes, he had seen the Elector Friedrich at Heidel 
 berg, and had brought affectionate greetings from 
 him to the Nassau household, and above all, to his 
 excellency. 
 
 Heidelberg court was full of the new excitement 
 among the Huguenots of France, which had followed 
 the march of Alva through the borders, the raising of 
 royalist troops, and the secret which had leaked out 
 that the king and queen mother were engaged in a 
 treacherous correspondence with Alva which could 
 only threaten the betrayal of the peace of Amboise, 
 so sorely strained already. 
 
 The famous saying of the queen-mother, already 
 bruited abroad, that it was the privilege. of French 
 monarchs never to make a perpetual edict, had
 
 218 
 
 sounded the note of warning and stirred the Hugue 
 nots to secret preparations for a second civil war. 
 
 "Yes," said the prince, as Norbert rehearsed 
 these important matters, " the war is inevitable 
 and cannot long be averted. No doubt Coligny is 
 in communication with" the elector. Saw you 
 tokens in Heidelberg or elsewhere in the Pfalz, of 
 a muster of troops ? " 
 
 " Assuredly, my lord. Heidelberg was full of 
 soldiers, both foot and horse, and his highness the 
 elector's son, John Casimir, is continually enroll 
 ing fresh ones. All are fierce to be off for France 
 and effect a junction somewhere in Lorraine with 
 Coligny. Nevertheless, I misdoubt their moving 
 very soon." 
 
 "Why so? " 
 
 " The court seems to be full of an influence 
 against the Huguenots and their cause." 
 
 A hasty exclamation escaped the prince. 
 
 " Bochetel has been at work, then, at Heidelberg 
 also, he or Lansac," he said, "and has found the 
 ear of the elector. I suppose it is the same story 
 he has used to bring the landgrave and the other 
 princes over to the royaiist side." 
 
 The prince paused, biting his lip and looking 
 before him in fixed thought. 
 
 " I know not, your highness," said Norbert. 
 " The elector said I might tell you that there were 
 some reasons to fear that if a second civil war were 
 begun in France it would not be for the cause of 
 religion but as a political and treasonable revolu 
 tion, to gain the throne for the Prince of Conde. 
 ' I have no desire,' his highness said further, 'to 
 aid in an unholy war of treasonable ambition, and 
 I may yet advise my son to disband his troops and 
 make no further levy.' ' 
 
 The prince rose and paced the room in close 
 thought for some minutes. At length he stood still 
 before Norbert and said with grave emphasis :
 
 219 
 
 " Tontorf, you may not see yet what you will 
 see as you live deeper into this time of ours, that 
 the cause of the Huguenots in France is the cause 
 of the Gueux in the Low Countries, the cause of 
 Protestants everywhere. If one suffer, all suffer. 
 There will be a long struggle, fought out now on 
 one field and now on the other, but the cause is 
 one. A wider question is at stake and a deeper 
 than many see not a question merely between 
 the Mass and the Bible, but a question of the free 
 dom of the human spirit for all time to come. 
 
 " In these quiet months here in my old home I 
 have had the leisure which aforetime failed me to 
 study and reflect. Two tremendous forces have 
 come into mortal clash in our time the newly 
 awakened spirit of liberty and the mighty and 
 ancient spirit of tyranny. The latter undeniably 
 has its seat and stronghold in the Roman system, 
 with its kingcraft and priestcraft and its established 
 control over the motions of men's souls. To it I 
 can no longer adhere. My place is in the other 
 camp. I am ready now to take my part openly in 
 the struggle, whether its stage be France or Flan 
 ders or elsewhere, albeit the cause of the Nether 
 lands must always lie closest to my heart. 
 
 "Matters grow urgent," continued the prince. 
 " Alva has already reached Brussels and letters from 
 Rome and from Spain which have been intercepted 
 show that the great powers are all girding them 
 selves for a swift, concerted movement to stamp 
 out freedom and toleration. 
 
 " These poisonous slanders against Conde and 
 Coligny are but the subtle weapons with which 
 Catharine de Medici seeks to rob the Huguenot 
 party of the help of their brethren in Germany. A 
 messenger must come from Coligny and Conde 
 themselves to the elector inviting him to search out 
 the truth of these charges. I would fain communi 
 cate with Coligny as soon as may be, for time
 
 22O 
 
 presses. Would you be ready to make the journey 
 into France for me at short notice ? " 
 
 " Ready, my lord, with all my heart," said Nor- 
 bert promptly. 
 
 " Very good. We must wait a little for my 
 brother, Count Louis, for this is work for him also. 
 He should be here ere long. He is hard at work 
 now in Friesland seeking to rouse the people to 
 arms, but they are slow to move. And now you 
 must have chance to rest. How far have you 
 ridden to-day ? " 
 
 " From Giessen, your highness." 
 
 " You have a right, then, to be weary and you 
 will find Dillenburg as good a place for rest as all 
 Germany could give you. Have you observed the 
 stillness ? " 
 
 With these words the prince led Norbert out from 
 the antechamber to a long balcony overlooking the 
 approach to the castle. The forest lay black and 
 murmurous in the hush of the night, with the great 
 dome of the sky studded with the splendid August 
 stars bending over. The air was fresh and laden 
 with the aromatic breath of the firs and balsams. 
 Nowhere was sound or motion to break the profound 
 silence. Then the plaintive call of the night raven 
 issued from the forest, and a warm wind swayed 
 the lofty treetops below the castle wall. 
 
 " What peace ! " said Norbert under his breath 
 involuntarily. 
 
 " Peace here, Tontorf," said the prince quietly; 
 " peace to-day, but to-morrow, I tell you, not 
 peace but a sword."
 
 XXI 
 
 NEWS FROM BRABANT 
 
 TWO weeks had passed. 
 It was a late hour of the September night. 
 Norbert Tontorf, leaning over the parapet of 
 the terrace before the Diedrichs-bau, looked down 
 upon the sleeping village of Dillenburg below the 
 castle. 
 
 The peace of this valley, above all at night, pos 
 sessed an exhaustless power to soothe and heal his 
 aching heart. Behind him, within the castle, late 
 as was the hour, lights were moving to and fro, but 
 for the time they were unheeded by Norbert. 
 
 For, as he stood and drank in the purity and 
 peace of the silent hills, stretching dark to the 
 horizon, there had risen afresh before his mind the 
 thought of that lovely princess whose device he 
 still wore and whose unseen presence had ruled his 
 fancy and held his devotion by mysterious chains 
 through these silent years. Far, far beyond this 
 valley, he mused, lay the convent where she lived 
 her life in still seclusion, beyond the Rhine, beyond 
 the border, in the unknown west. What might have 
 befallen her in the years since his father had vis 
 ited Jouarre ? The times were full of fresh peril, 
 her enemies were powerful, her friends scattered. 
 Who could tell if she had even now the protection 
 which he himself so ardently longed to give her ? 
 Who could tell if she yet lived ? Should it yet be 
 given him to put his sword and service at her feet ? 
 
 His reverie was interrupted. 
 
 Steps approached, coming from the castle. Nor 
 bert turned to see a man in a long, black cassock, 
 
 221
 
 222 
 
 with white lawn bands, crossing the terrace to his 
 side, a man of serious and reverend mien. It was 
 Herr Nicholas Zell, a Lutheran clergyman, who had 
 been for some weeks in attendance on the prince. 
 
 "This air is most refreshing," he exclaimed. 
 " I can breathe freely now. All our fears are over. 
 A son is born to his highness ! " 
 
 Norbert made an exclamation of pleasure and 
 Zell continued in a low voice of quiet satisfaction : 
 
 " Yes, a lusty young prince, to be named pres 
 ently after the deceased father of the princess, the 
 Saxon elector, Maurice." 
 
 " This is good news," returned Norbert warmly. 
 " And is the mother at rest ? " 
 
 "A pointed question, young sir," said Zell 
 smiling thoughtfully ; " yes, for once the wild and 
 foaming torrent is stilled. The great tide of mother 
 hood and the exhaustion of her travail have sufficed 
 at this hour to silence the tumult of the princess' 
 strange spirit." 
 
 "You have seen her ? " 
 
 " I have just come from her bedside. The 
 Countess Dowager and the Lady Elizabeth have 
 cared for her with tenderest devotion, despite the 
 harsh and contemptuous treatment she has ever 
 accorded them. No queen could have had gentler 
 nursing. It might seem that even ' the great elec 
 tor's daughter,' as she is wont to call herself, might 
 be satisfied, and cease for a time at least her clamor 
 to return to Breda." 
 
 "When she was in Breda," said Norbert, "it 
 was well known that the princess never ceased to 
 rail against the land and the people, but now it 
 seems she is fain to return to them." 
 
 "The life here at Dillenburg is too dull and too 
 simple for her highness," said Zell. "If Breda 
 is impossible she has wearied the prince night and 
 day to permit her to go to -Cologne and set up her 
 own household. She fancies herself holding a
 
 223 
 
 little court there and playing the queen among the 
 many Netherlandish refugees ruling without a 
 rival." 
 
 Both Zell and Norbert smiled involuntarily at 
 this characteristic wish of the fantastic Anne of 
 Saxony. 
 
 " How the prince bears with her stubbornness 
 and her violence is beyond my wit to discern ! " 
 exclaimed Norbert, after a pause. 
 
 " His patience is most marvelous. I doubt me 
 sometimes that he is too patient, for more than once 
 his very life or that of others has been in jeopardy. 
 Harsher measures might perchance the sooner bring 
 the lady to her senses. His highness can be stern, 
 however, when pressed too hard. I have seen the 
 princess in a towering passion, ready to dash to 
 pieces everything she could lay hands on, when she 
 has quailed before his mere look and become meek 
 and penitent as a chidden child." 
 
 " What is that ? " cried Norbert suddenly, lean- 
 Ing over the parapet to listen. A sound of horses' 
 hoofs became more and more distinctly heard 
 through the silence of the night on the village 
 street below them. 
 
 " It must be Count Louis ! " cried Norbert with 
 rising excitement, as a small body of horsemen 
 came into view in the moonlight, threading their 
 way up the steep, rocky approach. 
 
 " He has come at last, and he will bring news 
 from the Netherlands ! " 
 
 As Norbert said these words he added to himself 
 silently : 
 
 " And now at last we can start on the mission to 
 France and to Coligny, and that means Chatillon, 
 and on the road to Chatillon who knows but we 
 may pass the Abbey of Jouarre ? " 
 
 In another moment Norbert and the clergyman 
 had joined a small but eager crowd in the main hall 
 of the castle gathered around Count Louis, whose
 
 224 
 
 appearance was hailed with rapturous delight by 
 the Dillenburg household. 
 
 Chief among the group stood the prince, his arm 
 around his mother, whose sweet old face showed in 
 its tremulous smile the strain which the night had 
 brought her. 
 
 Having received the affectionate congratulations 
 of Louis on the birth of his son, the prince cried : 
 
 " And now, my brother, you came straight from 
 Brabant, I take it. Tell us, then, in a word, what 
 is passing there. I will content myself to wait till 
 morning for private conference." 
 
 Louis instantly lost the bright enthusiasm with 
 which he had discussed the advent of the prince's 
 son, and his face grew stern. 
 
 " The first news and the worst news," he said, 
 " is the arrest of Egmont and Horn by Alva. Most 
 foully and treacherously were they trapped by the 
 duke into a conference over plans for a new citadel 
 at Antwerp, and while thus engaged, in his own 
 house, Alva surrounded them with soldiers and put 
 them under guard." 
 
 " When was this ? " asked the prince, who had 
 changed color at this swift fulfillment of his worst 
 fears. 
 
 " Five days since. All Flanders rings with the 
 horrible scandal of so treacherous an outrage on two 
 Knights of the Fleece. The people everywhere, 
 gentle and simple, are in a kind of frenzy of indig 
 nation." 
 
 " Oh, Egmont, Egmont ! " murmured the prince, 
 under his breath. " If you would but have been 
 warned by me ! From a prison of Alva's making 
 the only door will be the scaffold." 
 
 " Ah, my lord," cried Louis, with passionate fire, 
 "we can but down on our knees and thank God, 
 fasting, that your hasty departure prevented Alva's 
 devilish plot in your own case. It is freely said 
 among the Spanish gentlemen who surround the
 
 duke, ' After all, Alva has caught nothing. The 
 Silent One is not in the net.' " 
 
 The prince made no reply. A letter from his secret 
 agent in Madrid, Vandenesse, the private secretary 
 of Philip, had long ere this brought him a copy of 
 Alva's secret instructions, one clause of which bade 
 the new governor-general "First and foremost, to 
 sei^e the prince and bring him to execution within 
 twenty -four hours . ' ' 
 
 " You can have no other tidings as dark as this, 
 my brother ? " the prince asked, the shadow of deep, 
 suppressed emotion on his face. 
 
 " I know not if the second theme which divides 
 men's minds in Flanders with this treachery may 
 not bid fair full soon to be a thousand-fold more 
 disastrous. Alva has now at the very outset of his 
 rule established a new tribunal for the Netherlands, 
 which takes the place of every other court of justice 
 in the land. He calls it the Council of Troubles. 
 The people call it the Council of Blood. The duke 
 is himself the head of it, and its powers are abso 
 lute. Its penalties are, briefly, death and confisca 
 tion of property." 
 
 " The latter will supply Alva with his sinews of 
 war," commented the prince, "the former will be 
 a truly Spanish method of quelling revolt. A river 
 of blood flowing through the Netherlands, a river 
 of gold flowing into Spain ! Alas for my poor land ! " 
 
 " There is no doubt, my lord, that your own es 
 tates will soon be swallowed up by the governor. 
 The castle at Breda is already filled with Spanish 
 troops, and they swarm everywhere in the town." 
 
 The prince fixed a startled look upon the count. 
 
 " They are making short work, surely," he said, 
 " but better landless than headless ! Come, the 
 mother looks sadly weary. We have heard of many 
 troubles, but we must not forget that to-night a son 
 is born to this house. God grant that Maurice of 
 Nassau may live to do it honor ! "
 
 226 
 
 " Hoch soil er leben ! Er lebe hoch ! " cried all the 
 company in deep and full accord. 
 
 Then in turn the prince and his brothers, John, 
 Louis, Adolf, and Henry, with chivalrous and rev 
 erent devotion, kissed the cheek of their stately 
 mother, who looked with proud eyes at her five 
 gallant sons, and so closed the midnight family con 
 clave. 
 
 But for the prince there was no sleep that night. 
 Egmont, the gallant hero, whom he had loved with 
 all the generous ardor of his young years, had been 
 trapped to ignominious and fatal imprisonment by 
 the abhorrent craft of the Spaniard ! With the 
 hard-wrung tears of his stern and outraged man 
 hood, the prince consecrated himself anew in that 
 vigil to the deliverance of his land from a tyranny 
 which seemed inspired by devils rather than men.
 
 XXII 
 
 THREE FLEURS-DE-LIS ROYAL 
 
 E mind of Louis of Nassau was as strong and 
 supple as his body and both might be likened 
 to tempered steel. 
 
 From stirring up the fisherfolk of North Friesland 
 with bold and hardy comradery, from fighting all 
 day and sleeping in his saddle, he would turn to 
 the most brilliant court festivities or to the most 
 delicate negotiation of statecraft with a Catharine 
 de Medici, and prove himself in each line master. 
 
 Buoyant and ever ready for action, he waited but 
 a day at the castle before he announced himself 
 ready to set out with Norbert on the long journey 
 to the Huguenot leaders in France. 
 
 In the early September morning, therefore, while 
 the dew was yet on the grass and the mists hung 
 white on the hills around the castle, the two young 
 men, Norbert now dignified by a captain's commis 
 sion at the hands of the prince, both well-mounted 
 and full of the eagerness of fresh adventure, gal 
 loped down the Dill Valley. They were riding forth 
 on the prince's errand, bound for France and for 
 Chatillon-sur-Loing, the home of Coligny, eighty 
 miles due south of Paris. 
 
 Threading in succession the valleys of the Dill 
 and Lahn, crossing the Rhine at Oberlahnstein, 
 following the Moselle to the imperial city of Treves 
 and crossing the border at Sedan, it was the even 
 ing of the twenty-sixth of September when, at night 
 fall, the two young men came within sound of the 
 Cathedral bells of Rheims. 
 
 " Now, at last," said Count Louis as they rode 
 
 227
 
 228 
 
 into the courtyard of the Bonsecours, " we shall find 
 a friend with whom we can speak freely and throw 
 aside our disguise." 
 
 " And who is our friend, my lord ? " asked Nor- 
 bert ; " for truly this city, with its ancient cathedral, 
 with yonder magnifical palace of the great Guise 
 archbishop, and all its proud show of the ancient 
 religion at every turn, seems the least promising 
 town for us which we have entered." 
 
 "You say truly," replied Louis; "we are in 
 the very stronghold of the Lorraines and may be 
 under the watchful eyes of the great cardinal's 
 servants when we least expect it. Neverthless, 
 Huguenoterie has a foothold even in Rheims, as I 
 shall presently show you." 
 
 Having put up their horses at the Bonsecours and 
 partaken of the evening meal for which they were 
 well inclined, the count and Norbert left the inn, 
 and crossing the great place before the archbishop's 
 palace, they made their way through narrow streets, 
 with which Louis seemed to be perfectly familiar, 
 to the Rue de Tambour and knocked at the door of 
 a high, timbered house of quaint, attractive aspect. 
 
 To the servant who responded to their knocking 
 Louis put the question whether he could see Maitre 
 Chaudon, and added in a low voice a few words 
 which Norbert did not understand. They were at 
 once ushered into a spacious room where beside a 
 table covered with books sat a venerable man with 
 white hair falling almost to his shoulders. 
 
 He rose and greeted Count Louis with marked 
 cordiality and respect, and seemed fully cognizant 
 of Norbert's parentage. 
 
 " The name Tontorf," he said quietly, " must be 
 sacred among Protestants of every nation." 
 
 Maitre Chaudon, Norbert soon learned, was the 
 pastor of the secret congregation of the Huguenots 
 of Rheims. A somewhat stern and taciturn man 
 Norbert found him, but one to be fully trusted.
 
 22Q 
 
 A long conference followed, in which Count Louis 
 discussed with the old minister the uprising of the 
 Huguenot party. 
 
 "It is coming," said Maitre Chaudon ; "it is 
 even now hard upon us. I can feel the ground 
 tremble beneath my feet with the tramp of armed 
 men, and yet on the surface all is quiet. The 
 Admiral Coligny is quietly gathering his vintage at 
 his home in Chatillon. Conde has, indeed, left the 
 court in anger and disgust at the insolence of Anjou 
 and the barefaced breaking of her pledged promise 
 to him by the queen-mother. Where he is, how 
 ever, is not known, nor will be, methinks, until he 
 is ready to strike." 
 
 " Where is the court ? " asked Louis. 
 
 " At the castle of Monceaux, in La Brie." 
 
 Norbert's interest quickened at the name. Was 
 not the Abbey of Jouarre in La Brie ? 
 
 " Know you what place has been chosen for a 
 rendezvous ? " 
 
 Maitre Chaudon looked keenly into the face of 
 Count Louis, who smiled slightly at the old man's 
 caution. 
 
 "You are safe," he said gently, and glanced 
 significantly at Norbert. 
 
 " The brother of the Silent Prince and the son of 
 the Printer of Middelburg can surely be trusted," 
 responded the pastor as if satisfied. " Rozoy-en-Brie 
 will be the place, and the time is now not distant." 
 
 Louis was thinking. To Norbert it often seemed 
 that he could watch the very movements of his 
 swift and eager mind in the mobile, changing face. 
 With a flash of sudden perception he exclaimed : 
 
 " Conde is somewhere in La Brie ! He could not 
 be elsewhere ; and Coligny will not much longer lin 
 ger among his vines. We must reach them ere they 
 are swept beyond our reach in this rising storm. 
 Come, Tontorf, let us hasten back to the Bonse- 
 cours, sleep what we must and be ready to hasten
 
 230 
 
 on at daybreak. If it is possible we must reach 
 Meaux to-morrow night." 
 
 "An extravagant hope, fair sir," remarked the 
 Huguenot. " If you come by Chateau-Thierry you 
 will do well." 
 
 " Haply I am over sanguine, monsieur," said the 
 count, " but our business has haste. And so, good 
 night." 
 
 "Stay yet a moment, Sir Count," said Maitre 
 Chaudon ; " it may be that I am over cautious, and 
 that it would better serve our cause that so tried a 
 
 aur SEINE 
 
 champion of it as Louis of Nassau should be en 
 trusted with our whole counsel. 
 
 " There is a plot on foot," he continued, lowering 
 his voice to a whisper, "of doubtful good, to my 
 thinking. It seems justified, however, by the con 
 tinued massing of the Swiss regiments, which can 
 only mean that the royal party, led by the Guises, 
 is preparing for a sudden coup against our people. 
 
 " The prime object of the undertaking, which is 
 wild and hazardous, indeed, is to rid Charles of the 
 baneful influence of our neighbor here in Rheims, 
 the archbishop, the great Guise cardinal. The
 
 231 
 
 means to be employed are to seize the persons of 
 the cardinal, the king, and the queen-mother, and 
 then to present a petition, humble and respectful, 
 but imperative, to the king for the removal of the 
 cardinal and the dispersion of the Swiss mercena 
 ries." 
 
 "If the plot succeeds," said Louis, who had 
 listened with eager attention to this surprising nar 
 rative, "it will be a coup d'etat. If it fails, it will 
 be high treason. Conde is playing for high stakes. 
 I see him in this rather than the admiral. Is Mon- 
 ceaux to be the scene of the attempt ? " 
 
 "Meaux, more likely, as the court will hardly 
 fail to leave their hunting and dancing for a day or 
 so to celebrate the feast of St. Michael, at the ca 
 thedral ; but this will be determined by events as 
 they befall." 
 
 "The feast of St. Michael!" cried Norbert, 
 "that is but three days hence." 
 
 " The twenty-ninth," said Chaudon, quickly. 
 
 " Then is our need of haste even greater than I 
 supposed," said Louis. " Let us, if we may, seek 
 our interview with Conde and Coligny ere they are 
 too deeply involved in the consequences of this 
 most amazing attempt." 
 
 Again they bade the Huguenot good-night and 
 returned to the Bomecours. 
 
 As they galloped at daybreak the following morn 
 ing, down the green Marne Valley in the direction 
 of Crezanc.y, between the rich vineyards, hanging 
 full of grapes, still coated with their azure bloom 
 and of a delicious fragrance, the count said laugh 
 ingly to Norbert : 
 
 "Have an eye to the vintage, Roubichon ! Do 
 not forget the object of your expedition to Cham 
 pagne and the great interests of the brothers Cer 
 tain. What think you, will the yield be large ? " 
 and Louis looked with a well-feigned connoisseur's 
 eye over the vineclad hills.
 
 232 
 
 / 
 
 Their expedition was ostensibly made on busi 
 ness for the fictitious firm of George and Lambert 
 Certain, the prince being the chief and Count Louis 
 the junior partner. Norbert, the confidential agent, 
 was to bear the name of Roubichon. 
 
 " You ride, Master Lambert Certain, all too much 
 like a lord, and too little like a wine merchant," 
 quoth Norbert. " The tradesfolk's air sits not ob 
 viously upon you." 
 
 "Neither does it upon you, sir," retorted the 
 count blithely; "can you not abate by a shade 
 that soldierly bearing, that gallant and knightly air ? 
 And have a care, good Roubichon, of that silken 
 scarf which I note you wear within your doublet ! 
 Pray tell me, an' you will, what is its device which 
 mine eye can never quite decipher ? " 
 
 Norbert blushed and hesitated for a moment. 
 
 " Fear not to own that you have espoused the 
 cause and wear the colors of some fair lady, my 
 friend," said Louis, in his frank fashion; "and 
 yet speak not unless you are fain rather of speech 
 than silence. I am not over curious in other men's 
 matters, and yet, soothfast, I do love a lover." 
 
 " Nay, my lord, no lover am I," said Norbert, by 
 no means sorry to speak of a subject so near his 
 heart; "no lover, but a servant pledged, all un 
 known and silently, to a lady whom I have never 
 seen." 
 
 "Nay now, man," cried Louis, "this grows in 
 teresting. Is there more that may be told ? Is this 
 lady of the Religion ? " 
 
 " I know not, but deem it scarce possible," re 
 plied Norbert, and after a pause he continued : 
 
 "All that I know of her to whose service I would 
 gladly devote myself, so far as I may while serving 
 my lord, was learned full two years since. To 
 day I know not in truth even that she lives." 
 
 " But if she lives she is fair, safe to say ; some 
 modest maid of Middelburg, mayhap, or Breda ? "
 
 233 
 
 " Nay, my lord. Not of Middelburg, nor of Breda, 
 not of Holland nor of all Flanders, nor yet of Ger 
 many. Neither is the lady, as you might think, 
 the modest maid whom any man, least of all, a man 
 like me, penniless and homeless, might hope to wed. 
 This is no love affair," and again Norbert's cheeks 
 grew ruddy ; " the lady is of princely rank, as well 
 as of rare loveliness. Furthermore, she is under 
 the vows of the Benedictine order. There is one 
 sole thing that could call an unknown burgher's 
 son and soldier of fortune like me to her side." 
 
 "And that is ? Say on. I am eager to hear." 
 
 " And that is, that the lady has been, and may be 
 now, in a place of danger, may be defenseless, may 
 need a common fellow who loves not his life over 
 much to stand for her guardiance or to strike a 
 blow for her defense." 
 
 Louis of Nassau looked into Norbert's melan 
 choly and yet ardent face with earnest response. 
 
 " The lady is of princely rank," he said musingly, 
 as they walked their horses up a long hill where 
 the sun beat down fiercely upon their heads ; " she 
 is, as it may chance, in a place of peril ; she is a 
 Benedictine nun of great beauty and loveliness, 
 dwelling not in the Netherlands nor in Germany. 
 Well then, Norbert Tontorf, I am ready to hazard 
 a guess that this same peerless devote lives in 
 France ! " 
 
 Norbert nodded without speaking, and Louis 
 glanced shrewdly into his face. 
 
 " Are we now, as we make our way into La 
 Brie, approaching the abode of this same lady ? " 
 
 " We are, my lord." 
 
 Louis drummed with his finger-tips on his saddle 
 bow for a moment, looking aside at Norbert's scarf, 
 an end of which had fallen outside his doublet, in 
 the breast of which he carried it. 
 
 " Does the lady bear for her crest three fleurs-de- 
 lis royal on a field azure ? " he asked gayly.
 
 234 
 
 " With a baton peri added, monsieur." 
 
 " Is the lady known, haply, to some who have 
 had the privilege of seeing her, as ' the White Ab 
 bess of Jouarre ' ? " 
 
 " I have heard so." 
 
 " Beshrew me, then, if the lady beautiful, 
 princely, yet defenseless, and, it may be, in peril 
 be not daughter of the Due de Montpensier, 
 Mademoiselle Charlotte de Bourbon! "and Louis' 
 face reflected the almost devout enthusiasm of 
 Norbert's. 
 
 " Monsieur has heard of the lady haply knows 
 her ? " 
 
 " Much, indeed, have I heard of this lady through 
 her cousin, her majesty of Navarre, and the story 
 of her life has ever touched my heart profoundly. 
 Tontorf, she is all that you believe her to be in 
 herself. That she is in peril I do not know. I 
 trust that in this you may be wrong. But it will 
 go hard with us if we seek not out that same Abbey 
 of Jouarre, which lies between Meaux and this Ro- 
 zoy-en-Brie, and offer not ourselves and our swords 
 for the lady's service if so be there is need of 
 them." 
 
 With these last words Louis extended his hand 
 and took that of Norbert with a strong, expressive 
 grasp. 
 
 " I like you, Norbert Tontorf," he said, as they 
 put their horses to the gallop at the top of the hill, 
 where a level stretch of country lay before them. 
 "I have always felt my soul drawn to yours in the 
 manliness of your sorrow, your self-command, and 
 your patriotic devotion. But now I am knit to you 
 by another bond, for in this troubadour-like pledg 
 ing of your service to an unknown lady, invisible 
 and remote, but sacrosanct to you, like the vision 
 of an angel, you have shown me your inner nature, 
 high and chivalrous, and I love you for it. Here 
 after the bond between us two is strengthened."
 
 235 
 
 Touched too deeply to reply, Norbert received 
 the words of the gallant count, himself as pure a 
 virgin knight as Sir Galahad, religiously, as if they 
 bestowed a priestly benediction. In silence they 
 rode on together.
 
 XXIII 
 
 "THE AFFAIR AT MEAUX " 
 
 HAT river mouth is that ? " asked Louis of 
 Nassau, pointing to the southern shore 
 of the Marne, where, between long lines 
 of verdure, a smaller stream poured its waters into 
 the deep river, its shallow rapids tossing brightly in 
 the morning sun. 
 
 "The Petit-Morin, monsieur," replied the boat 
 man. 
 
 "And what is that little town ? " inquired the 
 count, indicating a cluster of houses at the river's 
 mouth, with three fine stone bridges and a quaint 
 old mill built on a shoal in the middle of the stream. 
 In the distance, on a green hill, rose the towers of 
 a stately abbey. 
 
 "La Ferte-sous-Jouarre, monsieur." 
 
 Louis and Norbert exchanged a hurried glance. 
 
 They sat, the one in the stern, the other in the 
 bow of a small boat which they had hired at Charly. 
 The pastor, Chaudon, had been right, and Count 
 Louis had been disappointed in his hope of reaching 
 Meaux on the preceding night. Lodging at Charly 
 and leaving their exhausted horses behind, early in 
 the morning they had started down the Marne, 
 hiring two boatmen to row them as far as Meaux, 
 where fresh horses could easily be obtained. 
 
 Hardly had Louis had time to frame the question 
 which sprang to his lips, when, as they rounded 
 the bank which rose to the east of the mouth of the 
 little affluent, the boatman exclaimed : 
 
 " Voilcl ! There comes at the moment the barge 
 of the ladies of Jouarre ! " 
 236
 
 237 
 
 As he spoke a white-canopied craft, covered with 
 crimson cloth whose gold fringes nearly touched 
 the water, shot out into the Marne, strongly pro 
 pelled by four sturdy oarsmen, and, steering east 
 ward, preceded their own boat in the direction of 
 Meaux. 
 
 From a slender staff at the bow a small white 
 pennon was flying. 
 
 At a signal from Louis their boatmen bent more 
 vigorously to the oars, and they soon approached 
 the little craft, so nearly as to discern the device 
 on this flying pennon. 
 
 Both young men bent eagerly forward with 
 kindling faces. Louis spoke. 
 
 " Three fleurs-de-lis royal," he said, " on a field 
 azure ! Yes, the baton peri also," and, much mar 
 veling, he glanced at Norbert. 
 
 The young Zeelander maintained his character 
 istic silence. His lips were firmly closed, no ex 
 citement or impulsive fervor broke in words from 
 them, but in his eyes was a new light, high and 
 eager. 
 
 They were now nearly abreast of the boat. In the 
 bow sat three blackrobed nuns of the Benedictine 
 order. Next were the rowers' seats. The stern 
 was concealed from their eyes by the curtains 
 which fell from the canopy. 
 
 Suddenly from the right bank of the river a 
 wherry came into view filled with armed men, and 
 a shot from an arquebus struck the water just 
 athwart the bows of the graceful canopied craft. 
 
 The stout fellows who filled the rowers' benches 
 dropped their oars and seized their short swords, 
 while Count Louis swiftly guided his own boat to 
 a point where it lay between the other two. 
 
 Again a shot skipped across the river's surface 
 followed quickly by a third. Louis and Norbert 
 had both drawn their pistols and stood in their boat 
 ready to repel the attacking party.
 
 2 3 8 
 
 They could see plainly now, with a joyous thrill 
 of wonder, that behind the, curtains in the stern, 
 beside another black-robed Benedictine, sat a lady 
 in the habit of superieure, but clad wholly in white. 
 
 The wherry had now approached midstream, and 
 as it came within speaking distance a tall man in 
 the dress of a Huguenot officer waved a white 
 handkerchief as he stood in the prow and called : 
 
 " Where are you bound, and who are you ? " 
 
 Instantly the white abbess in the stern rose and 
 stood her full height, and in a voice not loud, but so 
 clear that every syllable could be distinctly heard, 
 replied : 
 
 " We are sisters from the Abbey of Jouarre, bound 
 for Meaux to the festival of Saint Michael. Who 
 are you who fire upon defenseless women ? " 
 
 When Charlotte de Bourbon rose in her place 
 the nun who had been seated at her right had 
 sprung to her feet as if to interpose her own body 
 between her lady and the soldiers. 
 
 Norbert, who at first could see only the pure face 
 and queenly form of the lady of his dreams, mar 
 veled even in that fleeting moment at the flashing 
 eyes and fearless spirit of the young religieuse in 
 contrast with her companions, whose faces were 
 blanched with terror at this alarming onset. 
 
 The captain of the little company had turned 
 and spoken with one of his men. 
 
 " But you fly the lilies of France on your ban 
 ner ! " he called again, and a ring of menace could 
 be distinctly noted in his voice. 
 
 Count Louis and Norbert made ready to fire. 
 The Abbess of Jouarre although she had not turned 
 toward them seemed to see their intent. With a 
 motion of her hand she forbade it. 
 
 "We fly the lilies of France," she answered, 
 "because the Abbess of Jouarre is of the house of 
 Bourbon. We are on a peaceful and a pious 
 errand. Suffer us to proceed on our way." With
 
 239 
 
 this word she gave a signal to the oarsmen, who in 
 stantly bent again to their rowing and the boat 
 shot swiftly onward, the ladies waving their thanks 
 to Louis and Norbert, who covered their retreat 
 with their own stout little shallop. 
 
 Seeing that the soldiers in the wherry and their 
 leader were still irresolute whether to follow the 
 boat from Jouarre, the count, having approached by 
 a few strokes, cried imperiously : 
 
 " Why do you make war on nuns, monsieur ? 
 Surely this was a bad blunder ! " and in a lower 
 tone he murmured the secret countersign of the 
 Huguenots, received from Maitre Chaudon, care 
 lessly adding his own name. Instantly the threat 
 ening manner of the leader changed and he saluted 
 Louis of Nassau with profound respect. 
 
 " We were on the watch, to be sure, monseig- 
 neur," he said, "for larger game, and at first flash 
 thought we had it. But I am not sure that this 
 ought to have slipped through." 
 
 "Wait for your larger game, my friend," said 
 Louis carelessly, " and forbear to attack women on 
 their way to church, whatever flag they fly. Row 
 on," he added to the boatmen, and they were soon 
 following in the wake of the boat from Jouarre as 
 it glided now between the houses and gardens of 
 the city of Meaux. 
 
 From the distance they watched the boat as it 
 was made fast at the Watergate of the episcopal 
 palace garden, and saw the four black figures fol 
 low the one in white into the enclosure of the 
 palace and disappear. 
 
 Shortly after they themselves were landed farther 
 down the river. Having paid and discharged their 
 oarsmen they followed the moving crowd which 
 filled the streets of the little city flocking to the 
 cathedral of St. Etienne, where the ceremonies 
 preceding the great feast of St. Michael were about 
 to be celebrated.
 
 240 
 
 As they entered the nave, pushed forward by the 
 throng, some one touched Louis of Nassau on the 
 shoulder. Turning quickly he saw close behind 
 him two gentlemen, plainly dressed but of self-pos 
 sessed and noble bearing, the elder of whom, a man 
 of not less than fifty years, with a finely cut face, 
 said in a low voice : 
 
 "Well met, monsieur. I will wait your conven 
 ience. 
 
 " D'Averly ! " was the exclamation of the count 
 under his breath. " What could be better timed ! " 
 and he saluted both gentlemen with gracious 
 courtesy. 
 
 "Know you where Conde is ? " Norbert heard 
 his whispered question and caught the reply : 
 
 " He should be here anon or his quarry will es 
 cape him." But there was neither time nor chance 
 for further speech, for the organ and trumpets were 
 thundering forth their music and up the nave swept 
 the great procession of chanting priests and acolytes, 
 monks and nuns, bearing lighted candles, and at 
 tending the effigy of the saint, borne aloft beneath 
 a baldachin and preceded and followed by gorgeous 
 banners. Last of all, in full pontificals, walked the 
 Lord Bishop of Meaux. 
 
 Norbert's eyes scarcely noted the details of the 
 brilliant concourse, for they were fixed upon the 
 ranks of nuns of various orders, black and white 
 and gray, who paced onward with downcast eyes 
 and slow steps. He stood beside Louis in the front 
 row of the crowd, where both could scan the ranks 
 for the figure of the white abbess. 
 
 A touch of Louis' hand upon his arm gave 
 warning of her approach. Yes, she was there, and 
 upon her fair young head rested the slender golden 
 circlet; from her shoulders swept snowy, ermine- 
 mantled drapery ; her white hands clasped the cru 
 cifix upon her breast, her eyes were lifted with a 
 steadfast, forward gaze, and upon her face was the
 
 241 
 
 radiant repose of an undefiled and noble spirit. 
 Both young cavaliers felt their pulses leap with the 
 ardor of devotion with which a presence so pure, 
 so lofty, so removed from out their reach, inspired 
 them. But already the vision was fading, the lady 
 had passed. Behind her, bearing the sweep of her 
 long train came two black-robed figures, both slen 
 der and gracieuse, with faces fair and young framed 
 in by the white, conventual bands. Surely she 
 who walked nearest, as she reached them, raised 
 the dark lashes which swept the soft bloom of her 
 cheek, and beneath them broke forth a lustrous 
 gleam of recognition. It seemed to Norbert, more 
 over, that that bloom deepened to a richer hue as 
 she caught his eager gaze resting upon her. He 
 knew her for the young nun who had stood by the 
 side of her siiperieure in the boat in their recent en 
 counter. Then the long lashes drooped again to 
 the demure propriety of the monastic habit and the 
 procession had swept on, leaving Norbert with all 
 his blood tingling in his veins, he knew not why. 
 
 An hour later, at the close of the celebration, as 
 he and his companions were trying to force their 
 way out of the crowded cathedral, the brothers 
 d'Averly having closely attended Count Louis 
 since their first encounter, Norbert felt a slip of 
 paper thrust into his hand. Turning hastily, he 
 searched in vain among the throng which hemmed 
 him in on every side for sight of the personage who 
 had thus approached him. He could see no one 
 who showed the slightest interest in himself nor 
 the shadow of a desire to communicate with him. 
 
 Holding the paper concealed in his hand, he read 
 with amazement the few words which were written 
 upon it with evident haste : 
 
 " The lady whose colors you wear awaits you at the 
 foot of the palace garden." 
 
 Norbert's heart beat high with startled excite 
 ment. Was the exalted, inaccessible Abbess of 
 
 Q
 
 242 
 
 Jouarre indeed about to favor him with the long- 
 desired interview and afford him the opportunity to 
 lay his sword and service at her feet ? So great 
 an honor seemed impossible, and yet her attend 
 ant, the young religieuse, whose youth and beauty 
 and high spirit suited so ill the severity of her garb 
 and the austerity of her vocation, surely she had 
 given but now a token of recognition which might 
 foreshow even such favor as this. 
 
 Norbert, who had for several moments lost sight 
 of his comrades and who now found himself pressed 
 onward to the outer portal of the cathedral, looked 
 anxiously about him for a sight of Count Louis, but 
 in vain. He and the gentlemen who had joined 
 him had wholly vanished, and to seek them out in 
 the throng was plainly useless. 
 
 What was to be done ? 
 
 The note in Norbert's hand gave him his answer. 
 "The lady . . . awaits you." This present tense 
 was imperative. A gentleman could not fail to re 
 spond swiftly and promptly to such a summons. 
 
 Meaux was but a small city. He remembered the 
 name of the street the Rue d'Acier in which 
 dwelt the d'Averly brothers, the Sieurs de Minay, 
 for his father had lodged with these well-known 
 Huguenot gentlemen two years ago, after his visit 
 to the Abbey of Jouarre, and had laid much stress 
 on their gracious hospitality. He could find his lord 
 later. He must seek his lady now. 
 
 Passing through the palace garden, Norbert soon 
 reached the margin of the river, where a fringe of 
 willows overhung the bank and a flower-bordered 
 alley stretched far into dim, green shadows. 
 
 No one was in sight. At the left and not far re 
 moved from where he stood rose the high palace 
 wall. In it, at the end of the alley, was a heavy 
 iron gate, before which paced a double guard of 
 soldiers. Men and women in gala attire were saun 
 tering through the pleasant paths of the garden,
 
 243 
 
 but none seemed inclined to turn their steps his 
 way. 
 
 Then, suddenly, coming he hardly knew from 
 which direction, there was a light footfall and the 
 figure of a woman, slight and graceful, wrapped 
 closely in a long, black mantilla which covered her 
 head and fell nearly to her feet, approached him. 
 
 It was not the Abbess of Jouarre. This Norbert 
 knew on the instant and felt at once also the wild 
 presumption of dreaming that she could have pro 
 posed meeting him thus. But there was her attend 
 ant, the dark-eyed Benedictine ; surely it was not 
 impossible that she might have come as a messen 
 ger in place of her mistress ! 
 
 With deepest deference, Norbert made his obeis 
 ance before the lady, catching between the folds of 
 her mantilla the flash of a pair of bright, dark 
 eyes. 
 
 Two swift steps brought her close before him, 
 and he heard with quick amazement and dismay a 
 low, rippling laugh, in which he caught the familiar 
 echo of a voice he had hoped never to hear again. 
 
 " Valerie ! " he cried under his breath. 
 
 " You will wear my colors now, at least, you key- 
 cold varlet ! " she whispered, and quick as a flash 
 she darted into his breast a thrust of a small dagger 
 which she had held concealed in her drapery. 
 
 The coat of chain mail which Norbert wore under 
 his doublet turned aside the dagger, so that it drew 
 no blood. 
 
 "You are out of practice, senora," he said con 
 temptuously. And as he spoke he struck her wrist 
 a sudden flick which shook the dagger from her 
 grasp. It shot upward and then fell on the grassy 
 path at her feet. 
 
 " Au secours! au secours!" cried Valerie at the 
 top of her voice, springing back. " Hither to me ! 
 Hither ! A spy, a spy ! " 
 
 With these cries, shrill and alarming, ringing
 
 244 
 
 through the quiet precincts of the garden, a crowd 
 gathered about them, but foremost of all, and be 
 fore he could turn or seek escape from the place, 
 the guard from the palace gate was upon him. 
 
 "Seize him, seize him ! " cried Valerie passion 
 ately. "He is a Huguenot spy. I know him. 
 He recognized me as I walked quietly on the river's 
 bank, and feared I would betray him. See," and 
 she held up the dagger, " he sought my very life 
 to save himself from discovery. He came from 
 Conde, and he is in the plot against his majesty." 
 
 Throwing back these artful words, Valerie slipped 
 into the crowd and disappeared from Norbert's sight 
 not only for the time but forever. Her later his 
 tory he never knew. That of her infamous Span 
 ish accomplices became but too well known to him 
 in the following years. 
 
 Resistance being obviously useless, Norbert sub 
 mitted to the guard, who now hurried him to the 
 water-tower of the bishop's palace and thrust him 
 into a small, cell-like chamber. 
 
 " It matters not," said his captors curtly, in 
 answer to his remonstrance, "whether the jade 
 spoke truth or not. If she lied, it will do thee no 
 harm, young master, to partake for a day or two 
 of the bishop's hospitality. If she told truth, the 
 best place for thee is the bottom of the river, 
 which thou mayest shortly find. The uproar about 
 the court and the plot against their majesties forbid 
 that we should leave at large gentlemen who may 
 chance to be in the Little Man's employ." 
 
 With this terse explanation, Norbert saw the door 
 of his prison closed upon him. As the slow hours 
 dragged on he strode up and down his narrow cell, 
 hot with rage at his own fond, credulous folly, 
 which had suffered him to walk thus open-eyed 
 into Valerie's snare. A hundred questions rose to 
 which he could find no answer. 
 
 Whence came Valerie and how had she found
 
 245 
 
 him out ? Why was she at Meaux ? What would 
 Count Louis think of his inexplicable desertion ? 
 If he escaped alive from this trap would the prince 
 cease to honor him with his confidence, since he 
 had shown himself thus easily betrayed ? Upon 
 such food for thought did Norbert feed that day. 
 
 Evening was well advanced when the door of his 
 prison was cautiously opened, and a stout fellow, 
 armed and wary, bearing a trencher of coarse food, 
 presented himself. 
 
 Convinced that the court had actually reached 
 Meaux despite the watchfulness of the Huguenots, 
 and was even now in hiding in this same episcopal 
 palace, Norbert, concealing his real desperation, 
 said in a tone of easy confidence as he took the food : 
 
 "Hold there a moment, my friend ! Know you 
 what fools those soldiers wereMo shut up here the 
 fellow who has risked his life to break the Hugue 
 not lines, and who comes to bring tidings of the 
 Swiss from up the river at Chateau-Thierry to their 
 majesties ? " 
 
 "How is that?" asked the servant, staring 
 blankly. 
 
 Norbert repeated the words. 
 
 " Here am I," he continued, " no spy, but a true 
 man, coming on a mission of high importance from 
 the Palatine Elector to the court of France, fight 
 ing on my way to rescue a princess of the blood 
 from the Huguenots as she attempted to reach 
 Meaux, and then, on the brazen slander of a Spanish 
 wanton, I am thrown into this dungeon ere yet I 
 can discharge my errand or have speech of her 
 majesty the queen-mother. I demand to be taken 
 at once into the presence of her majesty ! " 
 
 With these words spoken with convincing au 
 thority Norbert confronted the perplexed servant. 
 
 " Do you know that lady whose word sent you 
 here ? " he asked, after a pause, blinking dubiously. 
 
 "To my infinite regret," said Norbert coolly,
 
 246 
 
 " I have seen that person several times in Antwerp. 
 What devil's business brings her to Meaux, do 
 you know ? " 
 
 " Devil's business, by St. Michael ! "said the serv 
 ant, laughing silently. " She purports to be modiste 
 ct la Royne-Mere, and to come hither from Paris in 
 attendance on the court. It is easy to guess, mon 
 sieur, that she has other business, as you seem to 
 have already learned to your sorrow. An revoir for 
 the present. I can do no less than present your de 
 mand to the major-domo." 
 
 With this the man departed, but to Norbert's sur 
 prise and speechless relief, he returned in a brief 
 half-hour, and bade him follow him to the central 
 portion of the palace. 
 
 The hour was late, but the halls and passages 
 were full of excited, hurrying retainers and gentle 
 men. Every entrance was carefully guarded, Nor- 
 bert noted, by detachments of the Swiss soldiery, 
 the personal bodyguard of the queen-mother. 
 
 At a rear entrance a little group of men were hur 
 riedly attending a prelate of tall and imposing figure, 
 wrapped closely in a long mantle, who was about 
 to make a hasty exit. 
 
 "The cardinal himself!" whispered Norbert's 
 attendant. "He dare not wait longer, you see. 
 He knows full well the Huguenots would show him 
 no mercy." 
 
 Reflecting with some emotion that he had seen 
 the arch-enemy of Protestantism in France, Charles 
 de Guise, Cardinal Lorraine, Norbert now followed 
 his guide up a fine staircase to a portal closely 
 guarded by four Swiss of gigantic stature. 
 
 Here the major-domo, whose appearance showed 
 great agitation and anxiety, met Norbert with the 
 abrupt question : 
 
 " Your name, monsieur ? " 
 
 "Roubichon." 
 
 "Your errand ? "
 
 247 
 
 " I come from the court of Heidelberg, with im 
 portant information for her majesty. On my way 
 hither I have had opportunity to observe the move 
 ments of the Swiss soldiery, also of the Huguenots. 
 I can give the court advices which may be of serv 
 ice." 
 
 Norbert's firm and serious countenance, his grave, 
 confident speech, and the grace of his bearing 
 seemed to carry conviction with them. The one 
 thing which the court frantically desired at that 
 hour was knowledge of the whereabouts of the 
 Swiss. 
 
 In another moment Norbert found himself in a 
 brightly lighted room, magnificent in its appoint 
 ments, but full of confusion and the marks of hasty 
 preparation for departure. Dazzled by the moving 
 groups of great ladies and gentlemen, among whom 
 he discerned the Lord Bishop of Meaux and other 
 dignitaries of the procession which he had witnessed 
 in the cathedral, Norbert followed the major-domo 
 into an inner apartment, where a lady in a black 
 velvet robe and pointed white cap was walking the 
 floor in uncontrollable excitement. A youth in rich 
 costume of velvet and miniver, with pallid face and 
 nervous restlessness, was standing by a window 
 through which he cautiously peered from time to 
 time into the street below. Knowing that he was 
 now indeed in the Presence, Norbert dropped upon 
 his knee, but without waiting for aught of ceremony 
 Catharine de Medici, whose usually impassive face 
 wore at this time the stamp of fierce terror and ire, 
 exclaimed harshly : 
 
 " Tell me quickly, young sir, what you have to 
 tell. I care not so much for the tidings you bring 
 from Germany. That can wait till this present 
 danger is overpast. I learn that you have come 
 down the river to-day and have broken through the 
 Huguenot lines. Where were the laggard Swiss 
 when you passed them and why do they not move
 
 248 
 
 forward rapidly ? Is it not understood that the 
 court is in imminent peril from this shameless con 
 spiracy of Louis Bourbon ? " 
 
 "Your majesty," said Norbert, looking with a 
 calmness with which he was himself amazed into 
 the darkened and bitter countenance of Catharine, 
 "to the best of my belief the advance guard of the 
 Swiss must by this time be as near us as La Ferte- 
 sous-Jouarre." 
 
 "Say you so?" cried Catharine. "Listen, 
 monsieur," and she turned to the young king, who 
 had been furtively watching Norbert with cold and 
 restless eyes. 
 
 "I hear, madame," he said shortly. " It were 
 better that they were at Meaux. Upon what do 
 you build your belief ? " he asked, glancing at Nor 
 bert with sullen hauteur. 
 
 " As I passed Chateau-Thierry, sire, they were 
 mustering rapidly, at Cheszy I saw a large de 
 tachment, and Charly was full of them;" thus 
 Norbert sought to expand to its utmost the small 
 knowledge in his possession, feeling himself sub 
 ject to keen suspicion on the part of the king. 
 Catharine's agitation was so great as to rob her for 
 the moment of her wonted penetration. 
 
 "We knew as much as that before," said the 
 king, whose incredulity appeared to be increasing. 
 "What is it we hear, young man, regarding your 
 attempt to rescue some member of our family on 
 the way to Meaux this morning ? The court 
 reached Meaux last night." 
 
 Norbert's cheeks flushed scarlet. To be guilty 
 of boasting of such small service as he had attempted 
 in behalf of the Abbess of Jouarre seemed a craven 
 trick. He hesitated and stood confused, conscious 
 that the eyes of both Charles and Catharine rested 
 upon him with awakening suspicion. 
 
 " It was but the slightest service, your majesty. 
 I shame me much to mention it," he murmured.
 
 249 
 
 " The name of the lady, sir, if you please," said 
 Catharine sharply. 
 
 " Her grace, Mademoiselle de Bourbon, lady 
 superieure of Jouarre." 
 
 Norbert spoke the words low and as if he feared 
 to profane the name by thus using it in his own 
 defense. 
 
 " Bid Mademoiselle de Bourbon come hither," 
 said Catharine, promptly turning to one of the 
 ladies who attended her. 
 
 A light step, the rustle of a silken train, and the 
 inner doorway of the room framed in the actual 
 presence of the fair maiden-abbess, the vision of 
 whom, as painted for him by his father, Nikolaas 
 Tontorf, Norbert had so long borne in his imagina 
 tion. 
 
 Before she spoke, seeing him thus standing, 
 Charlotte de Bourbon smiled, and her eyes smiled 
 a sweet, slow recognition before her lips, and, 
 seeing her thus, Norbert felt as if he were in a 
 dream and wished that the dream might never 
 know waking. 
 
 But when she spoke in answer to the queen- 
 mother a sharp pang shot through his heart that it 
 was she who, after all, must needs come to his 
 guardiance, not he to hers. 
 
 " Oh, yes, your majesty," he heard her say 
 quite simply, "this young gentleman and another 
 with him, although I know neither their name nor 
 nation, adventured their own lives in true knightly 
 fashion for us on our way to Meaux this morning. 
 Glad am I that 1 now may speak our heartfelt grati 
 tude. The banks of the river were patroled, your 
 majesty, by Huguenot soldiers waiting to intercept 
 and seize your persons should you approach the 
 city by the river, not knowing that you were 
 already safely here. They mistook us for your 
 majesties and fired upon us." 
 
 " And from this danger you were rescued by this
 
 bold young gallant, whose name even I do not 
 now remember ! " cried Catharine. " It was well 
 done, young man, and you have earned your re 
 lease from duress in advance." 
 
 " Madame," exclaimed the king, coming to her 
 side, " let us take another time for the exchange of 
 compliments. The street below is swarming with 
 Swiss. They are here at last." 
 
 Instantly the room became a scene of the live 
 liest commotion as Catharine, Charles, and their 
 attendants prepared to avail themselves of their 
 longed-for escort and make good their escape in the 
 direction of Paris, knowing not how far they would 
 be able to proceed without encountering the forces 
 of Conde. 
 
 Norbert stood apart, in no wise disturbed as to 
 what should follow, but deeply interested in watch 
 ing the Abbess of Jouarre. One after another the 
 four nuns of her company had entered the room 
 and they now formed a group around her, a group 
 forgotten and overlooked it seemed in the hasty 
 excitement of the moment. 
 
 " We are ready now, your majesty 1 " It was 
 the Lord Bishop of Meaux himself who made the 
 announcement. 
 
 Catharine de Medici wrapped closely in a long 
 black cloak swept through the room followed by a 
 trembling crowd of her ladies. Her eyes rested 
 on Charlotte de Bourbon standing quiet and undis 
 mayed among her nuns. 
 
 " Voild,, ma ch^re petite cousine! " she exclaimed. 
 "What a shame to leave you thus unprotected! 
 But alas, what can I do ? Five women more on 
 this wild midnight flight might cost us all our lives. 
 By my faith you are safer here ! " 
 
 "Your majesty, do not waste a moment more," 
 said Charlotte with gentle urgency. " Hasten, 
 hasten, every second counts ! Have we not a pro 
 tector here, and one whose courage is already
 
 251 
 
 proven ? " she cried, and smiled celestially upon 
 Norbert. 
 
 " Truly, what a mercy ! " cried the queen already 
 at the door ; " I charge you, sir," she called back, 
 " as you are a leal gentleman, to defend Mademoi 
 selle and see that she and her maidens reach their 
 convent in peace and safety. Au revoir! " 
 
 With which she was gone and with her the whole 
 frightened company of courtiers and dames, and 
 the bodyguard of Swiss in attendance.
 
 XXIV 
 SUNRISE ON THE ROAD 
 
 " 1TNEATH to the traitor ! Tear the tiger limb 
 ^_j from limb ! *A bas le Cardinal ! " 
 
 Through a frenzied, raging mob, the 
 canaille of Meaux, surging about the bishop's 
 palace, and filling the air with cries like these, 
 Norbert, with the aid of their own stout serving- 
 men, conveyed the ladies of Jouarre. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Bourbon had hastily caught up 
 an ecclesiastical mantle left behind by the bishop, 
 and had wrapped it closely about her to conceal 
 the gleaming white of her dress, and without a 
 moment's delay they had fled from the palace. 
 
 Wild with excitement at the plot of the Hugue 
 not party to seize the persons of the king and queen- 
 mother in their own quiet city, the inhabitants of 
 Meaux had been yet further infuriated by a report 
 of an infamous counter-plot on the part of the 
 powerful and unpopular Guise cardinal. The scum 
 of the city rose to the surface, and regardless of 
 party or religion the mob rushed to the residence 
 of the bishop, armed with weapons of the motliest 
 sort, their purpose to lay hold of the cardinal if, 
 as was suspected, he were still there in hiding, and 
 then to sack the palace, now left unguarded. 
 
 Guided to the residence of the Sieurs de Minay 
 in the Rue d'Acier by one of the men from the con 
 vent, Norbert was overjoyed as they approached 
 the house to see in the moonlight, pacing the pave 
 ment before it, the figure of a gentleman, wrapped 
 closely in a long military mantle below which could 
 be seen the point of his sword. 
 252
 
 253 
 
 " Count Louis ! " he called in a low voice. 
 
 The street, which was at a distance from the 
 palace, was almost deserted. 
 
 The count moved to Norbert's side and saluted 
 Mademoiselle and her ladies with graceful courtesy. 
 
 " This is better than we dared hope ! " he ex 
 claimed. " The d'Averly brothers are searching 
 the palace for your highness even now, but will soon 
 return. We knew that you were there earlier in 
 the day and that you were not of their majesty's 
 company when they left Meaux." 
 
 " And how has it fared with your lordship mean 
 while ? " asked Norbert. " I trust you lost no time 
 by my disappearance." 
 
 "Nay, man," laughed Louis, who was as cool 
 and debonair as if this were a masquerade, "we 
 doubted not you would come to light in good time. 
 We hastened on to Lagny to secure speech with 
 the Prince of Conde ere it was too late." 
 
 "Are the Huguenot forces then at Lagny, 
 monsieur?" asked Charlotte, with eager interest. 
 " Then the royal party will be intercepted." 
 
 " Doubtless, your highness ; but I think not for 
 long. The Swiss have gathered in overpowering 
 numbers. Conde has but five hundred gentlemen 
 with him. The plan is foredoomed to failure. But 
 what I would say is, Conde, learning of your pres 
 ence, madame, in Meaux, feared you might be in 
 danger. He therefore put half a dozen of his men 
 wholly at my disposal for your protection, and they 
 are now awaiting your orders." 
 
 "This was most thoughtful of my cousin of 
 Conde," returned Mademoiselle. " Let us lose no 
 time then, monsieur, in setting out on our home 
 ward way." 
 
 Count Louis at once conducted Mademoiselle and 
 her ladies into the house, where they received hos 
 pitable refreshment, and an hour later, their num 
 ber reinforced by the d'Averly brothers and the
 
 254 
 
 escort of Conde, the strangely assorted company 
 set out on horseback from the excited little city on 
 their night ride to Jouarre. 
 
 The size of the party protected it from molesta 
 tion or attack, and at four o'clock in the morning 
 they had reached La Ferte-sous- Jouarre, where 
 fresh horses were awaiting them. 
 
 "Are you not very weary, madame ? " asked 
 Count Louis, as he lifted Charlotte de Bourbon to 
 her saddle at the door of the low stone inn where 
 they had made their rendezvous. 
 
 " Not weary in the least, my lord," she replied 
 composedly. " It is a rare chance for me to have 
 an early morning ride, and 1 assure you I mean to 
 enjoy it mightily." 
 
 Louis gayly applauded the buoyancy of her 
 spirit, and with new courage the company set out 
 on the last stage of their journey. 
 
 It was sunrise when they approached the little 
 hamlet of Jouarre on its green slope, and could see 
 the Petit-Morin gliding under the morning mists 
 through the fair abbey meadows. 
 
 But what was that which darkened the road in 
 the distance as far as the eye could see ? 
 
 Count Louis bade the cavalcade halt, and stood 
 in his stirrups to scan the prospect. A hurried con 
 ference with the Sieur de Minay confirmed his own 
 belief. The sun's first rays fell upon white banners 
 and serried ranks of men-at-arms. 
 
 " There is nothing to fear, madame," cried Louis 
 with good heart. " Yonder march the Huguenot 
 forces, which Admiral Coligny himself is bringing 
 up to join Conde at Lagny, as was expected." 
 
 Jeanne de Mousson, as they again rode forward, 
 but at a slower gait, remarked shyly to Norbert, 
 who rode at her side : 
 
 " You are to have your wish, monsieur. You are 
 to see the Admiral of France, the greatest Prot 
 estant leader in Europe, they tell me ! "
 
 255 
 
 " I believe one is rising to-day who may prove 
 himself yet greater than the noble Coligny," Nor- 
 bert made earnest answer. "I would that you 
 could see monsigneur the prince." 
 
 "You speak of the prince, Captain Roubichon, 
 as if there were no other princes," said Jeanne, 
 laughing blithely. " Whom mean you ? " 
 
 " There is but one prince for me, mademoiselle," 
 said Norbert sturdily, "the brother of the Count of 
 Nassau, William of Orange." 
 
 "Say you, then, that he is a finer gentleman 
 than the count ? That I think can scarcely be ! 
 Surely he is the very beau ideal of a young knight ; 
 courtly, brave, and chivalrous," and the dark eyes 
 of the young religieuse brightened with undisguised 
 admiration. 
 
 " Is he not ? " cried Norbert eagerly. " I could 
 follow him to the earth's ends, and so would every 
 man who knows him. To his own family, the 
 beautiful old mother at Dillenburg, and to all the 
 brothers and sisters, Count Louis is like the Angel 
 Gabriel. He comes and goes, swift and sudden, on 
 his ceaseless quest, and they watch for his coming, 
 and mourn when he departs, as if he were the very 
 light of day." 
 
 " What mean you by his ceaseless quest ? " asked 
 Jeanne. 
 
 "The quest for aid for my own poor land," re 
 turned Norbert, in a more serious tone. " Ah, mad 
 emoiselle, you know little, here in your quiet life, 
 of the agonies which are desolating the Low Coun 
 tries under the rule of the Spanish king and his 
 deputy, Alva." 
 
 " I have heard of the terrible bloodshed," replied 
 Jeanne ; " and even among us of the Catholic faith 
 in France the name of Alva is execrated. Small 
 wonder, seems it to me, that a new uprising of them 
 of the Religion should follow, since it has become 
 known that the queen-mother invites him to enter
 
 256 
 
 France and employ here the same methods with 
 which he is stamping out heresy in the Nether 
 lands." 
 
 " If they did not rise they would be less than 
 men ! " cried Norbert impetuously. " But let us 
 not stain the radiance of this fair morning with such 
 thoughts of gloom and dread." 
 
 "Tell me, rather," said Jeanne, " how you can 
 say all that you have of that gentleman," and she 
 nodded her head toward Count Louis, who was 
 riding in advance of Norbert, "and still say that 
 there is a yet nobler Protestant prince." 
 
 Norbert was silent for a moment. Then with a 
 .'smile he said : 
 
 " Perhaps you will better conceive my meaning 
 if I say that the count is the Mercury of our Olym 
 pus, but the prince is great Jove himself." 
 
 Jeanne de Mousson shook her head with a smile, 
 roguish and demure. 
 
 "You are quite beyond my depth, fair sir. I 
 have heard, indeed, that our own convent was in 
 far-away ages a shrine of that same divinity, for 
 Jouarre is but a corruption of Joins ara. But we 
 nuns are not encouraged to search into the stories 
 of those heathen personages. Our lady makes 
 sure that we all have our thoughts employed on 
 higher things." 
 
 Norbert glanced into the face of the piquant 
 Bearnaise, in whom he could with difficulty discern 
 the monastic character, and replied : 
 
 " I suppose life in the Abbey of Jouarre is one 
 long succession of prayers and penance." 
 
 " Nay, Captain Roubichon," was the earnest re 
 sponse, "not so. Such was it, indeed, with much 
 tithing of our revenues added, in the earlier time, 
 when we had Madame de Long-Vic and Madame 
 Cecile Crue over us, but all that has been changed 
 since Mademoiselle has come into power." 
 
 " She has changed, then, the convent life ? "
 
 257 
 
 " That has she ; and the greater is the marvel 
 since her years are even now but twenty. We are 
 taught to seek less our own perfection and the en 
 richment of our own abbey than to save and succor 
 all the poor and unfortunate around us. Our lady 
 is a very angel of light through all this part of La 
 Brie. You might hear her name blessed in every 
 lowliest hut, for no need escapes her. If we did 
 not prevent her she would give away all that she 
 possesses, for she thinks never of herself." 
 
 " Her highness is of a most charming presence," 
 said Norbert, who had found the reality even be 
 yond his romantic dream. 
 
 " Is she not ? " cried Jeanne de Mousson. " Her 
 spirit seems to fill our convent in every corner like 
 the blessed sun. When there is trouble, we find 
 her ever of a steady courage. When all is bright, 
 she shames not to be frankly gay, and thinks a 
 laugh and a song no sin. Look at her now ! Saw 
 you ever so sweet a saint and so captivating a 
 creature ? As I live by bread, at this moment I 
 could e'en wish she were not a religieuse, and may 
 I be forgiven for saying it ! " 
 
 The little cortege, now nearly abreast of the gate 
 of Jouarre Abbey, had halted, awaiting the Sieur de 
 Minay, who had galloped forward to hold parley 
 with the leaders of the approaching Huguenot force. 
 
 Charlotte de Bourbon had dismounted before the 
 portal of her own stately domain and stood speak 
 ing to Count Louis. 
 
 " By my faith I could swear my lord echoes that 
 wish ! " murmured Norbert, under his breath. 
 
 In another moment three gentlemen, handsomely 
 mounted, and accompanied by the Sieur de Minay, 
 galloped up to the little group and dismounting en 
 gaged for a moment in conversation apart with 
 Count Louis. At a distance stood the halted regi 
 ments, and sang as they stood in strong unison one 
 of the thrilling hymns of the Huguenot army.
 
 2 5 8 
 
 "Coligny," murmured Jeanne de Mousson to 
 Norbert. " Ah, but he is, after all, every inch a 
 soldier ! " 
 
 Norbert looked, with breathless interest and deep 
 veneration, at the central figure in the small but 
 illustrious assemblage, the gray-haired veteran of 
 serious and gentle face and of imposing, albeit quiet 
 dignity. With him were the Chevalier de la Noue, 
 a spirited, soldierly figure, and a younger nobleman 
 of peculiarly winning aspect and patrician grace of 
 person, the lord of Teligny, brother-in-law to La 
 Noue. 
 
 These distinguished gentlemen greeted the Count 
 of Nassau with hearty and unaffected cordiality as 
 a friend and brother-at-arms, but without waiting 
 for more words of explanation than were demanded 
 by the unique situation, the count led the admiral 
 across to where she stood and presented him to 
 Charlotte de Bourbon. 
 
 The level rays of the new-risen sun illuminated 
 the face and figure of the young abbess as she 
 stood beside her horse, both set against the back 
 ground of the dim gray convent wall, the glistening 
 folds of her white robe sweeping the dewy grass 
 about her feet, while hanging loosely from her 
 shoulders swept the heavy folds of the long bishop's 
 mantle. The nun's hood and wimple, by their de 
 mure severity, accentuated the soft, girlish contour 
 of her face, while whatever of monastic gravity 
 might at other times subdue its brightness had 
 vanished in the stirring and eager emotion of the 
 moment. The delicate bloom of her cheeks deep 
 ened as she received the stately greeting of the ad 
 miral, her blue eyes were full of the light of high 
 and thrilling excitement, and upon her whole aspect 
 rested the morning dew and freshness of her maid 
 enhood. 
 
 " Will my lord and the gentlemen with him do 
 such honor to the humble convent of Jouarre as
 
 259 
 
 to take breakfast within its walls ? " she said, in 
 her clear tones, half-bashful, half-imperious, and 
 smiled with unconscious, delicate flattery into the 
 face of the grave old warrior. 
 
 "Very gladly would we thus take honor to our 
 selves, your highness," replied Coligny, bowing pro 
 foundly with a look of admiration at once fatherly 
 and knightly ; " but we might by thus doing bring 
 some scathe to the fair abbess of this same con 
 vent. Were it well that it should go abroad that 
 soldiers of the Religion had broken bread within 
 your walls, Mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " At Jouarre, my lord," Charlotte made answer, 
 " you will find yourselves on neutral ground. Ac 
 cording to our rule and order, no one who requires 
 our hospitality can be turned away. To-day we 
 will gladly give your lordship such entertainment 
 as suits our simple estate, and to-morrow we will 
 as gladly, if need be, give the same to my lord of 
 Montmorency." 
 
 "Wisely and worthily spoken, Mademoiselle," 
 said Coligny gravely, "and on such terms we will 
 gladly avail ourselves of your favor." 
 
 Command was quickly given to the regiments, 
 which remained halted on the highway, that an 
 hour would now be taken for breakfast, and fol 
 lowed by her own company, augmented by the 
 admiral, La Noue, and Teligny, Charlotte de Bour 
 bon entered the abbey gates. 
 
 But if the young chevaliers had for a moment 
 dreamed that the hospitality of Jouarre was to be 
 administered to them in person by its fair and 
 princely superieure they quickly found their mistake. 
 
 Having attended them with all good grace and 
 courtesy to the noble guest house at the right of 
 the convent court, where she entrusted them -to 
 the care of the guest-master, Charlotte parted with 
 them on its threshold. But ere she withdrew to 
 her own hall the lady beckoned the Count of Nas-
 
 2(5o 
 
 sau and Norbert to her side and thanked them for 
 their devoted service and the rescue of herself and 
 her demoiselles from the perils of the night and of 
 the previous day. 
 
 " Your highness," said Louis, looking with frank 
 devotion into the shining eyes of the lady, " this 
 young soldier is Roubichon only to his foes, but to 
 his friends Captain Tontorf, son of the printer of 
 Middelburg, not unknown to you, I believe. He has 
 in silence and secret held himself consecrate, may 
 I make bold to say, to your service now these two 
 years past, and by my faith I believe he came to 
 France less to do the bidding of my brother of 
 Orange than to seek such chance as might betide 
 to lay his sword and his service at the feet of Mad 
 emoiselle de Bourbon." 
 
 Charlotte held out her hand with swift, grateful 
 impulse to the young Zeelander, who dropped on his 
 knee as he touched it reverently with his lips. 
 
 "Is it possible that you are the son of Maitre 
 Tontorf," she said, "the trusted friend of Madame 
 Jeanne d'Albret, the fearless messenger who saved 
 us from the espionage of our enemies ? He it was 
 who brought me the book which has led me to the 
 feet of my Lord and Saviour. Of his noble martyr- 
 death my cousin has informed me. Deeply have I 
 deplored it and devoutly in my heart have I honored 
 the memory of so good and so brave a Christian." 
 
 " The son is worthy of the father, Mademoiselle," 
 Count Louis said gently ; " and if I were permitted 
 to speak for myself I should say that for both of us 
 alike there is no deeper desire than that you should 
 cammand us to any service it may ever be in our 
 power to render." 
 
 In the innermost heart of him Norbert felt the 
 generous condescension of Louis in this union of 
 their names. Not less keenly did he perceive the 
 touch of an emotion far exceeding his wonted 
 courtly gallantry with which these words were
 
 26 1 
 
 spoken. No trace of jealousy, however, clouded 
 the mind of the young soldier. The Abbess of 
 Jouarre remained to him, in fact, as she had ever 
 been in fancy, exalted far beyond earthly passion, 
 save that of pure knightly devotion. 
 
 Despite her monastic inexperience the lady was 
 not oblivious to the profound and scarcely disguised 
 homage of the count. 
 
 With changing color, drooping eyelids, and as if 
 hastening to cut short an interview which she feared 
 to continue, she murmured a few words of grati 
 tude and farewell, swept a low courtesy, and has 
 tened to cross the green courtyard to her own hall. 
 
 The seven gentlemen who shortly surrounded 
 the great round table in the hall of the guest house 
 and partook of the daintily furnished and liberal 
 fare which the convent provided, spent the hour in 
 weighty and earnest conference. The relations of 
 the Elector Palatine to the Huguenot uprising, the 
 errand on which Count Louis and Norbert had 
 come to France, received the first consideration. 
 Later they discussed the prospects of the Protest 
 ant cause at large and the urgent struggle in the 
 Netherlands to which, as the 'admiral and his lieu 
 tenants heard with deepest satisfaction, the Prince 
 of Orange stood ready to commit himself. 
 
 " And now," cried the valorous La Noue as, the 
 brief hour ended, they were about to rise from the 
 table, "let us clasp hands together as we stand 
 around this board and drink a health long and deep 
 to our gracious and noble hostess. Life, health, and 
 joy to the White Abbess of Jouarre ! Vive la trh 
 illustre dame, Mademoiselle Charlotte de Bourbon ! " 
 At these words all sprang to their feet. 
 
 "Gentlemen," exclaimed Louis of Nassau with 
 kindling eyes, " a moment yet ere you drink the 
 pledge of the Chevalier de la Noue ! The lady 
 whom we pledge is surrounded by peculiar perils, 
 perils of which I may not speak, but which cannot
 
 262 
 
 fail in this fierce and turbulent time to wait upon 
 one who is at once the daughter of the Prince de 
 Montpensier and the close friend of her majesty of 
 Navarre. This venerable abbey in whose pro 
 tection we are now secure is set in the path of 
 gathering armies and hard by the seat of the war 
 now already on, this very day openly declared 
 the second civil war of France. Shall we who 
 have seen her and who revere the grace and exalted 
 goodness of the Lady of Jouarre, enjoy her bounty 
 and fare forth our several ways leaving her un 
 protected, exposed to dangers from within and from 
 without ? " 
 
 A response of ardent protest passed from man to 
 man, and a pledge of knightly guardiance of the 
 lady was added to the toast. 
 
 Accordingly when the illustrious company pres 
 ently broke up, each man to follow his own peril 
 ous and eager course, a small bodyguard of soldiers 
 was left at the abbey for the protection of its mis 
 tress, under command of Francois d'Averly, the 
 elder of the Sieurs de Minay. 
 
 As Count Louis and Captain Tontorf, setting out 
 alone on their long return journey to Germany, 
 reached a turn in the road which must presently 
 conceal from their view the hoary pile of the old 
 Abbey of Jouarre, the count exclaimed with a 
 humorous and yet rueful smile as he looked back 
 ward : 
 
 " Happy d'Averly ! Would I could change places 
 with him ! "
 
 L 
 
 XXV 
 THE CHAMPION APPEARS 
 
 EAVES from the note-book of the Demoiselle 
 
 de Mousson : 
 
 Jonarre, 2 October, 1567: I walked with my lady 
 in the garden after prime this morning, and we 
 spoke of the strange events of the two days past. 
 
 We know that the court reached Paris unharmed, 
 meeting in sooth sore dangers on the way. The 
 king himself fought at the head of his own body 
 guard and but narrowly escaped the soldiers of 
 Conde. My lady lets me speak as I will, which in 
 truth is full freely, of the bold rescue of ourselves 
 on the day before Michaelmas, of that long dark 
 night when we, peaceful nuns of Jouarre, rode 
 between ranks of armed men, and were escorted 
 by unknown cavaliers through those strange hours 
 till dawning. Truly war works sudden bouleverse- 
 ment. Marvel was it that wild and ill-assorting our 
 condition as was the whole adventure, we yet could 
 feel ourselves as little robbed of our dignity and re 
 spect as had we been at service in our own chapel. 
 Such was the noble courtesy and reverence which 
 encompassed us. Surely these foreigners are most 
 chivalrous and regardful gentlemen. 
 
 Jouarre, 10 October, 7567: I had even in my se 
 cret heart wondered if my lady might find it hard 
 to forget the good graces and adoring glances of 
 the very worshipful Count Louis of Nassau, for I 
 think not, save my lord of Teligny, has she ever 
 chanced to meet a young knight of that strain. She 
 
 263
 
 264 
 
 is unwontedly silent and thoughtful. The rather 
 doubtless have I held this fancy that I have striven 
 in vain myself, even when I was at my devotions, to 
 bar wholly from my sense the figure of the young 
 captain from Holland who rode by my side from 
 La Ferte, and who surely is as goodly a man as the 
 count himself, and a full half head taller, and of as 
 keen a wit. 
 
 But to-day my lady showed me that it was not 
 on the Count of Nassau she was musing, since his 
 unfeigned devotion, I fancy now, she found a thought 
 too open, but rather of that which had made the 
 substance of their talk together as they rode hither 
 side by side. This was, in brief, that the Catholic 
 Prince of Orange, brother of the young count, and 
 a most puissant and noble lord, as had been long 
 ago made known to Mademoiselle by Madame 
 Jeanne d'Albret, has within short time given over 
 the ancient religion. I hardly know why this fact, 
 which indeed must have its influence upon all the 
 world to-day, should have so great a place in my 
 lady's meditation, unless it be that she is fain her 
 self to take the self-same step. 
 
 And yet, how can she ? It is my belief that if 
 she were to declare herself of the new religion, the 
 Due, her father, would gladly take her life with his 
 own hand, to such a pitch of fury has his zeal risen 
 since the late troubles. The Huguenots call him 
 "the Savage Butcher," and I have noted that my 
 lady turns pale when tidings come of the part he 
 plays in this terrible contest. But for all this, she 
 has long converse with the Sieur de Minay, who 
 bears himself toward her right fatherly, and who is 
 a most devout, god-fearing man. Moreover, she 
 reads the book brought her by Maitre Tontorf con 
 tinually, and spends many hours daily in prayer, 
 wherein she uses no rosary nor missal, and no name 
 of saint or Virgin. I know not what is before us, 
 but for myself, I would in my own heart that I could
 
 265 
 
 even to-morrow quit this convent and declare myself 
 what I am in truth, albeit no person save my lady 
 dreams it, a Huguenot. 
 
 Jouarre, 3 November, 1567: To-day, as we sat 
 within the hall, the rain falling in torrents, and the 
 clouds so heavy that we were forced to sit close 
 within the niche of the window to gain aught of 
 light for our tapestry work, while we so sat, 
 Jeannette only with us, my lady said, with her 
 arch smile : 
 
 " I noted, Jeanne, that you had much converse 
 with the young Middelburger, Captain Tontorf, as 
 we journeyed from La Ferte, two weeks since. I 
 have been minded, having your spiritual good to 
 care for and oversee, to inquire as to the substance 
 of your talking." 
 
 Like the silly thing I am, the blood rushed to my 
 cheeks, and not for my life could I then have lifted 
 mine eyes from the canvas and met my lady's 
 look. 
 
 "I mind not now so particularly, Mademoiselle," 
 I made haste to answer ; " one can scarce keep such 
 trifling things in mind so long." 
 
 May I be forgiven, since do my best to have it 
 otherwise, not one word which that same Roubi- 
 chon-Tontorf spoke have I been able to forget ! 
 So then, making haste to salve my conscience, I 
 added thereto : 
 
 "We spoke, if I remember, among other things, 
 of his grace, the Prince of Orange, brother to the 
 Count of Nassau, for it seems that to him this same 
 young officer has a devotion which one might call 
 religious. It is really naught less than that." 
 
 My lady made upon this no reply ; but I felt that 
 she wished me to pursue the subject further. 
 
 "To the thinking of this Dutch gentleman," I 
 proceeded, "in comparison the Admiral of France 
 is not so grand a hero, the Count of Nassau so gal-
 
 266 
 
 lant a gentleman, nor any prince to be found be 
 sides him worthy the name. 'There is but one 
 prince for me ! ' so he said downright stoutly." 
 
 "It is even so that his brother discourses," re 
 turned my lady quite soberly. " The Protestants 
 of the Low Countries are fortunate to have at last 
 won so great a champion." And with that she be 
 came silent. 
 
 I can see clearly how slight a hold, after all, the 
 dashing and generous count has taken upon my 
 lady's thoughts. She passes him whom she has 
 seen and is fain to dwell on an unseen figure, 
 sterner, graver, yet more majestic, which he him 
 self drew for her. 
 
 What can the Prince of Orange be in actual pres 
 ence since the bare mention of him on the lips of 
 his friends can so control the pure and virgin heart 
 of such a one as my lady ? 
 
 Jouarre, 12 November, 1567: There has been a 
 great battle outside the walls of Paris at St. Denis. 
 The wounded of the besieging army of Conde have 
 even been brought as far as Jouarre, and we have 
 a new charge of nursing. 
 
 The constable, my lord of Montmorency, alas, is 
 dead, killed by one Stewart, from private malice. 
 
 Both sides claim victory, but both have grievous 
 losses. Fifty towns have now declared for the new 
 religion, notably La Rochelle. I would that one 
 poor demoiselle might follow suit. 
 
 Men speak freely, we are told by the Sieur de 
 Minay, who, with his little band of soldiers, keeps 
 safe watch over us, of the dire and black treason 
 of the Cardinal de Lorraine. He has, it is now 
 clear, in very deed attempted to betray the crown 
 of France to Philip of Spain as having a claim 
 thereto through his wife, Isabella of Valois. I 
 could almost wish he had fallen into the hands of 
 the populace of Meaux last Michaelmas. The whole
 
 267 
 
 land is in tumult. Nowhere is safety, and the 
 very foundations tremble. It is a marvel to all 
 that the queen mother still suffers the cardinal to 
 have voice in her counsels. 
 
 Jonarre, January, 1568: Word has reached us 
 that the son of the Elector Palatine, John Casi- 
 mir, has at last entered Lorraine with the promised 
 German reiters, and that the Huguenots, with the 
 admiral and Conde, have met them. This proves 
 that the mission of the Count of Nassau and Cap 
 tain Tontorf last September was not in vain, for 
 which even neutral nuns like ourselves may rejoice 
 in our secret hearts. 
 
 Joiiarre, March, 1568: We have had a visit 
 from the Chevalier de la Noue, who has brought 
 us the welcome news that the war, so fierce and 
 bitter, although so brief, is at an end, an edict of 
 peace having been signed at Longjumeau on the 
 twenty-third. La Noue calls it a limping and rick 
 ety and wicked little peace, and prophesies that it 
 will not last long and bodes dubious good to the 
 Huguenots. Coligny, who was very loth to take 
 up arms, and who had little relish for " the affair of 
 Meaux," which the king and the queen-mother still 
 bitterly resent, is more loth now to lay them down. 
 The Royalists, he says, have too often been proved 
 guilty of bad faith that they should be trusted now 
 with no security. However, Conde is as eager 
 now for peace as he was erstwhile for war, and 
 has prevailed. 
 
 La Noue had also news for us from Brussels, 
 where the Prince of Orange has been in January 
 summoned by the Duke of Alva to appear before 
 the Council of Troubles in three fortnights, as chief 
 author and promoter of rebellion in the Low Coun 
 tries. He was accused of being at the root of every 
 movement against the Spanish government. If he
 
 268 
 
 refuse to appear, he is condemned to perpetual 
 banishment and his vast estates are confiscated. 
 Count Louis is also summoned with others to come 
 before this terrible tribunal on the charge of con* 
 spiracy. 
 
 I asked the chevalier if the Prince of Orange 
 would obey the summons, at which he laughed 
 heartily, and asked me if men were wont to walk 
 into a den of ravening wolves with their eyes open. 
 My lady spake not at all, but listened with won 
 drous attentiveness, and La Noue, continuing, told 
 that the prince has thrown the summons back right 
 boldly in Alva's face and claims his right as a Mag 
 nate of the empire to be judged by the emperor, 
 the electors, and other chiefs. 
 
 "The prince has, indeed," concluded the cheva 
 lier, " thrown down the gauntlet of war to the death, 
 for although he claims that it is not the king who 
 has proceeded against himself, but men who ill-serve 
 his majesty, he says boldly that he is, for frivolous 
 and false accusations, contrary to all right law and 
 usage, not only despoiled of his property, but insulted 
 in his honor and robbed of his child, both dearer than 
 life." 
 
 This child, La Noue made known to us to be a 
 mere lad, the eldest son of the prince, who has been 
 abducted from the college of Savoy at Louvain, and 
 taken away to Spain. 
 
 " What will come of such bold action as this ? " 
 asked Mademoiselle. 
 
 "War, your highness," was La Noue's answer, 
 " a war of which I can already see the beginning 
 but cannot see the end. None the less it was a 
 brave man's deed." 
 
 " It is. however, a terrible thing," said my lady, 
 "to take upon one's self the responsibility of such 
 a war." 
 
 "That indeed is it, madame," La Noue said 
 very gravely ; "but the responsibility is not upon
 
 269 
 
 the Prince of Orange, but upon the Holy Office 
 which a month since condemned all the inhabitants 
 of the Netherlands to death as heretics, save a few 
 persons especially named." 
 
 "Oh, monsieur," cried my lady, "that is al 
 most beyond belief! " 
 
 " Nevertheless it is true. The Prince of Orange, 
 believe me, is not moving over-hastily. Such is 
 not his habit." 
 
 "What can be the results to the prince himself 
 of such a war ? " asked Mademoiselle. 
 
 " If it succeed his renown will be most glorious, 
 for he will have broken the greatest military power 
 and the most intolerable tyranny in Christendom. 
 If he fail he will be the loneliest man in Europe. 
 But one thing can be assured : no defeat, no dis 
 couragement, no disaster will ever quench his spirit 
 nor break his purpose. Death only will be the 
 end. He possesses a power of silent endurance 
 and a most unconquerable persistency of spirit when 
 once he is aroused. Furthermore, there is not in 
 any court of Europe a more masterly diplomatist. 
 I dare to prophesy that as long as William of Nassau 
 lives the Netherlands will never yield to the tyranny 
 of Spain. It is my own desire, when once peace is 
 established firmly in France, to go to the Nether 
 lands and place myself and as many men as I can 
 gather at the prince's disposal. There is no man 
 living, after Coligny, under whom I would liever 
 fight, and never on the face of the earth was there 
 a juster or a holier cause." 
 
 My lady did not speak, but she had no need to. 
 Her eyes spake for her. 
 
 Jouarre, August, 1568: From letters of Captain 
 Tontorf to the Sieur de Minay we know something 
 of the sorrowful course of affairs thus far in the 
 Netherlands. In May, in certain watery pastures 
 near a monastery called Heiliger-Lee, was fought
 
 270 
 
 the first battle, audacious and over-early, but bril 
 liant and successful. Count Louis led the patriot 
 forces with such boldness and wild valor that the 
 Spaniards were utterly routed. But his young 
 brother, Adolf of Nassau, was left dead on the field. 
 
 In his fury Alva then marched in person into 
 Groningen at the head of a strong and disciplined 
 army, having taken the precaution ere he left 
 Brussels to put to death eighteen prisoners of dis 
 tinction, among them Count Lamoral of Egmont 
 and Count Horn, to the horror of all the world. He 
 met the " rebels " under Count Louis in Friesland, 
 drove them by superior numbers into a kind of 
 cul-de-sac formed by the river Ems, and there, after 
 brave but futile resistance, the count serving his 
 cannon with his own hand, he massacred the entire 
 army in his most bloody and ruthless manner. 
 Count Louis escaped with Captain Tontorf only by 
 swimming the Ems naked and fleeing for his life 
 back to Germany. 
 
 " It was," wrote Captain Tontorf, "most griev 
 ous and heart-breaking tidings which we had to 
 carry to the household at Dillenburg Castle. The 
 first Nassau to shed his blood for the cause had 
 fallen at Heiliger-Lee, fighting in the front of battle, 
 the brave and modest Count Adolf. Heavily fell 
 the blow upon his true-hearted mother, the Countess 
 Juliana, and upon the noble band of brothers and 
 sisters. To this was added for the prince, the mock 
 ing glory of a barren victory and the gloom of a 
 crushing and most bloody defeat. The hearts of 
 those who might otherwise have helped us are now 
 chilled and the difficulties of levying fresh troops 
 mightily increased. But, albeit the rash opening 
 of the campaign in Groningen by Count Louis was 
 against the will and judgment of the prince, he 
 uttered no reproach. ' With God's help I have de 
 termined to push ahead 1 was his calm comment on 
 the whole deplorable issue.
 
 271 
 
 "On that very day," went on the letter, "in 
 which the prince wrote those words, July 31, he 
 made a declaration to all Europe, and especially 
 to the Netherlands, which is so calm and full a 
 setting forth of his position as he now enters the 
 lists to do battle with the most powerful monarch 
 in the world that I shall send you herewith a copy 
 of it. It may be, the ladies of Jouarre will also find 
 interest in the reading." 
 
 Here follows this proclamation, which, beyond 
 doubt, the ladies of Jouarre have -read with eager 
 interest, their hearts thrilled by its steadfast, serene 
 courage and amazed by its marvelous mingling of 
 sternness with conciliation. 
 
 My lady says it is a masterpiece of diplomacy as 
 well as of boldness, and points out that the prince 
 makes war against the king's government in the 
 king's name, for to the manifesto he had affixed his 
 motto : "Pro lege, grege, rege," for law, people, and 
 king. 
 
 " We, by the grace of God Prince of Orange, salute 
 all faithful subjects of His Majesty : To few people 
 is it unknown that the Spaniards have for a long time 
 sought to govern the land according to their pleasure. 
 Abusing His Majesty's goodness, they have persuaded 
 him to decree the introduction of the Inquisition into 
 the Netherlands. They well understand that in case 
 the Netherlander^ could be made to tolerate its exercise 
 they would lose all protection to their liberty. . . We 
 had hoped that His Majesty, taking the matter to 
 heart, would have spared his hereditary provinces 
 from such titter ruin, tye have found our hopes 
 futile. We are unable, by reason of our loyal serv 
 ice to His Majesty and of our true compassion for 
 the faithful lieges, to look with tranquillity any longer 
 at such murders, robberies, outrages, and agony. 
 We are, moreover, certain that His Majesty has 
 been badly informed upon Netherland matters. We
 
 2/2 
 
 take up arms, therefore, to oppose the violent tyr 
 anny of the Spaniards, by the help of the merciful 
 God, who is the enemy of all bloodthirstiness. Cheer 
 fully inclined to wager our life and all our worldly 
 wealth on the cause, we have now, God be thanked, 
 an excellent army of cavalry , infantry, and artillery, 
 raised all at our own expense. We summon all loyal 
 subjects of the Netherlands to come and help us. 
 Let them take to heart the uttermost need of the coun 
 try, the danger of perpetual slavery for themselves and 
 their children, and of the entire overthrow of evan 
 gelical religion. Only when Alva's bloodthirstiness 
 shall have been at last overpowered can the provinces 
 hope to recover their pure administration of justice and 
 
 a prosperous condition for their commonwealth." 
 
 k 
 
 Together and in secret we read the whole letter 
 of Captain Tontorf, which was writ from Dillen- 
 burg Castle ; the proclamation we read more than 
 once, and my lady, whose eyes were dim, said so 
 low that I scarce caught the words, " May I Jive to 
 see one day the man who had the heart to write 
 those words ! " 
 
 Jouarre, October, 1568: Truly the times wax 
 worse and worse and these days are of the darkest. 
 
 In Flanders the great army of the Prince of 
 Orange, which he had sold his plate and jewels to 
 levy and equip, has been utterly scattered by the 
 tactics of Alva, the easier an achievement since 
 they were but mercenary soldiers fighting for pay 
 and plunder. Never once would Alva give battle 
 to the prince, but wore his army out with hanging 
 upon their skirts, destroying all their means for 
 obtaining food, harassing them with matchless and 
 wily cunning, forcing them to change their en 
 campment twenty-nine times in as many days, 
 until at last, as the crafty duke foresaw, the troops 
 became maddened and mutinous. The prince is
 
 273 
 
 even now re-crossing the Meuse, as we hear by my 
 lord of Teligny, who hath been more than once of 
 late at Jouarre on his way to or from the court, 
 with which he has had much conference. With 
 what feelings must the prince return from a cam 
 paign so valiantly undertaken ! Bitterest of all 
 must it be, says Teligny, that the Netherland folk 
 themselves stirred not hand nor voice to meet the 
 prince at his coming. Not one town or city opened 
 its gates to him, even to within a few leagues of 
 Brussels itself, where he has been ever the idol of 
 the people. The people are stupefied, it needs must 
 be, by the barbarous cruelties of Alva, until every 
 last drop of hope and courage is frozen within them. 
 
 I should think all hope for the Netherlands gone 
 were it not for what the Chevalier de la Noue de 
 clared to my lady concerning the unconquerable 
 nature of the Prince of Orange. Surely he is 
 sharply tested now, for his great army is wasted 
 with no gain and his ill success has turned his 
 warmest friends cold, except among the poor and 
 oppressed. Where can he now turn ? Dukes, 
 electors, and princes fall away from him like water. 
 Well did La Noue prophesy that if he failed the 
 prince would be the loneliest man in Europe. 
 
 So much for the cause in Flanders. I say the 
 cause, for although it must not be dreamed here in 
 Jouarre, there is no longer disguise nor concealment 
 between my lady and Jeannette and myself. Our 
 cause is the cause of the Religion. 
 
 For France the case is even worse, if worse can 
 be. Coligny and the Prince of Orange have en 
 tered not long since into a mutual compact and 
 more than ever we realize that the cause is one. 
 
 Alas, we are ourselves plunged again in civil 
 war, for the peace of Longjumeau has proved in 
 deed but a " wicked and rickety little peace," see 
 ing that in these six short months ten thousand 
 Huguenots have been treacherously murdered.
 
 274 
 
 Hardly can war be worse, as the Prince of Conde 
 declared to the queen-mother. He has implored 
 her to dismiss from her counsels the Cardinal of 
 Lorraine, the infamous plotter against both crown 
 and people. The Emperor Maximilian has well said 
 that "all the wars and all the dissensions that are 
 to-day rife among Christians, have originated from 
 two cardinals, Granvelle and Lorraine." 
 
 The Guisards now have their own way at court, 
 and the first great deed with which they sought 
 to usher in their rule was nothing less than a 
 desperate attempt to seize the persons of Coligny, 
 Conde, and the Queen of Navarre, last month. All 
 three barely escaped, fleeing to La Rochelle, now 
 the Huguenot refuge. 
 
 Only war could follow an event like this, and 
 war is now upon us. 
 
 Our own private matters have suffered shock 
 with all the rest. Since my lady has little by little, 
 under the teaching of the Sieur de Minay and other 
 influences, come into full sympathy with the Hu 
 guenot cause, she finds it ever more difficult to ful 
 fill the office of superieure with whole heart and 
 conscience. The Queen of Navarre learning of her 
 altered mind, a short while since, offered Mademoi 
 selle and her two Jeannes a haven and a home in 
 Beam could she go so far as to break wholly 
 with the Catholic faith. I think not that my lady 
 fully intended to put this generous purpose to the 
 test, since Monseigneur de Montpensier might have 
 made terrible reprisals upon her majesty. Never 
 theless, we had some consideration of disguises and 
 of remaining, by the aid of the queen, for months 
 in strictest hiding in the Pyrenees. All this is now 
 at an end since Madame d'Albret has herself be 
 come a wanderer. 
 
 The three great spirits of Huguenoterie, whom 
 Alva's and Philip's and the Guises' evil wills have 
 so fiercely desired to destroy, are for a little time
 
 275 
 
 all together within the protecting walls of La Ro- 
 chelle. It is said that Madame d'Albret, by the 
 vigor and penetration of her intelligence, never so 
 nobly displayed as now, animates all the councils 
 of war, and is the very soul of the Huguenot body. 
 The Chevalier de la Noue and young Teligny are 
 high in command. The flower of the nobility is 
 flocking to Conde's army. There has been a gen 
 eral call to arms.
 
 XXVI 
 
 A DEAD MAN 
 
 ON a dismal February evening, on the road 
 leading into the city of Cologne from the 
 south, through stinging sleet and searching 
 wind there rode two men. 
 
 The elder of these, a man of thirty-five years, 
 wore a padded worsted doublet, wide grogram trou 
 sers, and over all a long and well-worn surtout. 
 Upon his head was a broad-brimmed hat drawn 
 over the forehead and concealing the face. His 
 companion was young and soldierly, and dressed 
 in an equally plain and nondescript fashion. 
 
 Shortly after entering the city gate the two men 
 parted, evidently by agreement. The younger 
 turned his horse's head in the direction of the 
 Domhof, and using his spurs was soon out of sight. 
 The elder, following for a space the street by which 
 he had entered the city, presently turned aside into 
 a narrower one and drew rein before a low-roofed 
 inn of the humbler sort, above the door of which 
 hung the sign, Zum Hirsch, surmounted by a rude 
 wooden figure of a stag, painted red. 
 
 Giving his horse to an hostler who came out from 
 the stables, the gentleman entered the inn in a 
 manner calculated to attract as little attention as 
 might be and asked for the landlord. 
 
 The host of the Hirsch soon appeared, a heavily 
 built man with coarse, mottled face and bushy eye 
 brows, under which looked out a pair of very shrewd 
 and calculating greenish-gray eyes. 
 
 " Can I have a room, mein Herr ? " asked the 
 stranger civilly. 
 276
 
 277 
 
 "For the night?" 
 
 " Perhaps not for the night. I have yet to hear 
 from my clerk whether he has found accommoda 
 tion elsewhere. I should like a private room, how 
 ever, at once." 
 
 "Oh, yes; oh, yes," said the landlord, rubbing 
 his hands with great show of cordiality, but 
 glancing sharply under the broad and drooping hat 
 brim at the stranger's face. " A room, oh, gewiss, 
 a room. That is easy. And what is the gentle 
 man's name ? " 
 
 " George Certain." 
 
 " And the calling of mein Herr ? Our regulations 
 are of necessity so strict in these wild times." 
 
 "Wine merchant from Rudesheim, traveling on- 
 business with my confidential man." 
 
 "Whose name is ? " 
 
 "Roubichon." 
 
 " Thanks, mein Herr," and the host bowed obse 
 quiously. "You will pardon if I seem over-inquis 
 itive. I am obliged at the present time to take 
 these precautions even with the most exalted Herr- 
 schaften." 
 
 The stranger cut short the man's protests, being 
 apparently in some haste to reach the retirement 
 of his room. He was now conducted up a steep 
 flight of stairs, at the top of which the door was 
 thrown open into a low, gloomy, garret-like apart 
 ment directly under the rafters, with a single win 
 dow overlooking the courtyard where heaps of 
 manure were melting into the sodden snow and a 
 foul, dank steam was rising. 
 
 The stranger looked about the fast-darkening 
 room for a single instant with a measuring glance. 
 It contained two narrow beds, as many chairs, a 
 light-stand, and a plain deal table. He stepped to 
 this table and tested it with a movement of his 
 hand to see if it stood firm. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "I can write on this. The
 
 278 
 
 room is well enough. Thank you, mein Herr. 
 Send me hither presently, if you please, such meat 
 and drink as you may have in readiness, and two 
 or three candles. 
 
 While he spoke the stranger was taking from a 
 deep pocket of his coat a traveler's ink-horn, sev 
 eral quills, and a thick leather letter-case, which he 
 laid on the table. 
 
 The host who saw himself dismissed had noted 
 the extreme beauty and fineness of the hands of 
 his guest, and as he left the room to do his bidding 
 he said to himself : 
 
 " A marvelous fine gentleman for a wine mer 
 chant, for all his shabby dress and his small require 
 ments. There is something more to this than ap 
 pears. Men of that ilk frequent not hostelries of 
 this quality unless they have reasons for keeping 
 out of sight. We shall keep our eyes upon you, 
 fair sir, and perchance come nearer to discerning 
 your title and degree than will be welcome to you." 
 
 Meanwhile the younger man had galloped as fast 
 as his tired horse could go through the Domhof and 
 on down the Hochstrasse, alighting before a large 
 house of comfortable but by no means pretentious 
 description. A general air of neglect and indiffer 
 ent oversight pervaded the whole establishment, 
 and it was with some little difficulty that the young 
 man succeeded in calling up a lackey to take his 
 horse and another to conduct him to the house 
 steward. 
 
 To the last functionary, a Netherlander named 
 Hauff, he made the statement that he was Ton- 
 torf, a secretary of his highness the Prince of 
 Orange, and desired to speak with the wife of that 
 gentleman immediately upon pressing and private 
 business. 
 
 The steward looked at Tontorf for a moment 
 with scarcely veiled insolence. 
 
 " Her highness is somewhat indisposed this even-
 
 279 
 
 ing and has remained in her room. You might come 
 in the morning, Master Tontorf." 
 
 Norbert bit his lip but restrained his temper. 
 
 "My master's business can hardly wait," he 
 said briefly. "You will, I am sure, do me the 
 favor of announcing me to her highness." 
 
 " You can follow the page upstairs, if you please," 
 the steward responded, calling a lad in shabby liv 
 ery, who had been peering at Norbert from a door 
 throughout the interview. 
 
 " Here, Hans, run up in advance of this gentle 
 man and see if her highness has a mind to receive 
 him." 
 
 Norbert followed the lad up the main staircase of 
 the house which belonged to John Molen, the prince's 
 treasurer, and through a wide hall to an open door. 
 Here Norbert stood, forced to overhear the dialogue 
 which ensued between the page and the Princess 
 of Orange, whose discordant voice he recognized 
 with peculiar disrelish. A moment later he was 
 bidden into her presence. 
 
 Anne of Saxony was reclining on a broad divan 
 in a confused medley of bright-colored draperies 
 and cushions in the midst of a luxuriously ap 
 pointed but untidy bedchamber. A table held a 
 handsome service for a supper for two persons. A 
 lamp burned on an escritoire beside the divan and 
 a fire blazed on the hearth. 
 
 Norbert saw at a glance that the princess had 
 changed markedly since her departure from Dillen- 
 burg. She had grown very fat, and the gross and 
 sensual character of her face was highly augmented ; 
 but her eyes were still of burning brightness and 
 her manner no less imperative than ever. 
 
 " Oh, it is you, sir," she said abruptly, not mov 
 ing from her easy attitude. " I remember you per 
 fectly. I saw you last at the chateau of the Nas- 
 saus. What have you come here for ? " 
 
 " To bring a message from his excellency, ma-
 
 280 
 
 dame. Can I have the honor to speak with you in 
 private ? " 
 
 "We are alone," said Anne of Saxony care 
 lessly. " You can close the door behind you, an' 
 you will." 
 
 Having done so Norbert stepped back to his posi 
 tion near the divan, and said in a low voice : 
 
 "The prince, madame, is even now in Cologne. 
 Needless is it to say that his presence must not be 
 known. He has sent me hither while he awaits 
 my return in a common inn where he may hope to 
 avoid recognition, to inquire whether your house 
 hold at the moment is such that it will not embar 
 rass your highness nor imperil himself if he come 
 here for twenty-four hours. He most earnestly de 
 sires that he may have speech with you before he 
 sets out for France." 
 
 The countenance of the princess had grown 
 steadily harder and more bitterly repellent as 
 Norbert went on. 
 
 "For what does he desire speech with me?" 
 she cried excitedly. " I can guess. He wishes to 
 persuade me to go back to his relations in that bar 
 barous prison of Dillenburg. No, he need not come 
 here for that, Master Tontorf. You can tell him as 
 well as I and with less bitterness, that I will never, 
 never as long as I live, go back into that wretched 
 wilderness," and she proceeded to rave against the 
 miseries and distresses of life where in the whole 
 Westerwald there was not even a barber-surgeon to 
 be found ! where she could not even get a glass of 
 wine often when she wished it ! and where there 
 was no one whom she found in the least amusing 
 to break the tedium of the long, wearisome days ! 
 
 "What do the Nassau ladies do?" she cried. 
 " Sit and look out of window to watch for their lords 
 and run to meet them like dogs at their coming ! 
 Or else they trot about the castle with their eternal 
 burgerliche hausfrau cares, and visit the dark, dirty
 
 281 
 
 cottages of that horrid little village, and for the rest 
 let themselves be preached to and prayed at night 
 and morning till I should think they would die of 
 piety ! And because I, the daughter of the great 
 Maurice of Saxony, accustomed to the state and 
 magnificence of the court of Dresden, could not 
 condescend to do as they did, they would leave me 
 to sit alone often a day at a time till I thought my 
 head would break of ennui. And now it will be 
 worse than ever, since they are in mourning for 
 Adolf. He was a pretty junker, the best of the lot. 
 I wish it had been Louis, since one must fall at 
 Heiliger-Lee. Him I never could abide ! " 
 
 "Madame," said Norbert quietly, when at last 
 the princess paused for breath, " I think it is not 
 altogether in the matter of your return to Dillen- 
 burg that the prince desired to confer with you. 
 He is, as you must be well informed, immersed in 
 difficulties, and needs such comfort and friendly in 
 terest as a man may look for from his wife." 
 
 "Let him not come to me for comfort!" ex 
 claimed Anne, straightening up with sudden vigor, 
 her face flushing high ; " nor if it is money that he 
 is after ! Not a stiver have I save what certain 
 good friends from Antwerp advance me. Have I 
 not suffered my plate to be sold to aid him in this 
 good-for-nothing Beggar war ? Did I not warn him 
 from the first how it would end ? But he only turned 
 a deaf ear to me and now he is nicely caught in the 
 net ! Of course he is in difficulties, but they are of 
 his own seeking ! I have enough of my own." 
 
 At that moment a heavy curtain at the opposite 
 end of the room was lifted and in stepped a person 
 age of portly figure, wrapped in a long dressing 
 gown of crimson velvet, edged with fur, a man with 
 a full florid face and wide moustachios, a man whom 
 Norbert instantly recognized with unspeakable 
 amazement, as the Antwerp councillor, Jan Rubens, 
 who had emigrated two years before to Cologne.
 
 282 
 
 He had entered the room without knock or warn 
 ing, in fashion most intimate and familiar, and had 
 advanced a step or two before he appeared to dis 
 cover that it was not some member of her house 
 hold whom the princess was rating. Catching the 
 eyes of Norbert fixed upon his face, the recognition 
 became mutual, and in awkward confusion Rubens 
 was about withdrawing hastily when the lady called, 
 quite unabashed : 
 
 " Do not go, my friend. I was even on the point 
 of sending for you. You have seen Master Tontorf, 
 as you have told me, long ago in Breda. Is it not 
 so ? Eh bien, he is now clerk or something to the 
 prince, and I wish you to show him the letter you 
 are writing for my attorney, Betz, to present at 
 Vienna." 
 
 With these words Anne of Saxony stepped to the 
 desk near at hand. As she spoke she looked across 
 the room at Rubens with a broadly flattering glance. 
 
 "Come," she added, with brutal mockery, "it 
 must surely please monsieur to know that I have 
 so goodly an advocate in his absence to care for my 
 interests." 
 
 The sudden change from the heartless coldness of 
 her manner while speaking of her husband to her 
 undisguised blandishment of the Antwerp refugee 
 aroused in Norbert a sudden whirlwind of anger, 
 and a wild desire to draw his pistol and shoot the 
 guilty pair on the spot, for that guilty they were 
 no smallest doubt remained in his mind. 
 
 Rubens, meantime, restored to his wonted com 
 placency, nodded patronizingly to Norbert and ad 
 vanced to the desk, over which he and the lady 
 now leaned together, whispering and smiling with 
 an infuriating air of confidential understanding. 
 
 "This is the letter, my good Tontorf," Rubens 
 began as he turned from the desk and faced Nor 
 bert, holding a newly written and yet unfolded 
 letter in his hand.
 
 283 
 
 "It is addressed," he continued pompously, "to 
 his Imperial Majesty, the Emperor Maximilian. It 
 is written in the name and person and by the desire 
 and demand of this most worshipful lady, the 
 Princess of Orange, but composed and framed by 
 her humble and unworthy servant, Jan Rubens." 
 And with the words, which he rolled forth unctu 
 ously, he made a deep bow to the princess, who 
 responded by a languishing smile which made Nor- 
 bert's blood tingle with disgust. 
 
 "Whereas," Rubens read on, "my quondam 
 husband, the Prince of Orange, Lord of Breda, 
 etc., etc., has refused obedience to the summons 
 of his liege lord, his majesty of Spain, through the 
 Duke of Alva, and in consequence of the proclama 
 tion now in force against him, he has suffered civil 
 death, in the eyes of the Netherland law he is a 
 dead man ; ergo, on Netherland soil, I, his former 
 spouse and consort, am now a widow ; ergo, the 
 Netherlands estates, of which the aforesaid Prince 
 of Orange, now deceased, was possessed, belong 
 
 Rubens read no further. 
 
 A blow, swift and sudden, with the flat of a short 
 sword had torn the paper in twain and tossed it on 
 the ground, and a sharper blow of the same sort on 
 the head of the councillor sent him abjectly reeling, 
 though uninjured, to the floor. 
 
 Norbert turned then to the lady, who stood in 
 rigid and speechless consternation at his temerity. 
 
 " Madame," he said sternly, his sword clenched 
 hard in his hand, his mouth set, " you have done 
 most foul and cowardly injury to the noblest gen 
 tleman and the faithfulest husband whom it has 
 ever been my lot to look upon. He whom you 
 despise as dead is living, and his name will live 
 through coming ages. But you, who have shown 
 yourself unworthy to share his great name, incapa 
 ble of perceiving his great nature, will, ere long,
 
 284 
 
 trust me, find yourself dead in the eye of the law, 
 and dead past resurrection." 
 
 With these words, Norbert strode from the room 
 and down the staircase. 
 
 In the halls below he encountered Hauff the 
 house-steward. 
 
 "Tell that scoundrel, Rubens, up there, if you 
 will," he said coolly, unheeding the piercing shrieks 
 which now resounded from above, " that I would be 
 glad to fight him, if he is not afraid to fight, when 
 next I am in Cologne. Nothing would please me 
 better than to throw his carcass in the Rhine to make 
 food for the fishes. Remember, if you please." 
 
 With which words he called for his horse and 
 galloped out again into the miserable stormy night 
 back through the streets of Cologne to the Gasthaus 
 %um Hirsch. 
 
 As he entered the low inn-room with its sanded 
 floor and sordid comfortlessness, Norbert found it 
 occupied by a half-dozen Hessian soldiers of the 
 roughest sort. Ill pleased at this fact, he was 
 scarcely better suited when he found himself con 
 fronted almost as he crossed the threshold, by a 
 tall, haggard shape, a man of emaciated face and 
 sunken, wandering eyes, in whom he recognized 
 at once his father's old friend, the Middelburg 
 pastor, Droust. 
 
 Norbert knew that the unfortunate man still lin 
 gered in Cologne, homeless, but harmless in his 
 lunacy, but it had been far from his expectation to 
 meet him. However, recognition being unavoida 
 ble, he returned Droust's emphatic greeting with as 
 little circumstance as might be, and was about to 
 cross the room to the low counter where the land 
 lord stood, watchful-eyed, among his stoups and 
 tankards, and to inquire of him whether the mer 
 chant, George Certain, from Rudesheim, had lodg 
 ing in his house, when he found the hand of Droust 
 laid hard upon his shoulder.
 
 285 
 
 His manner, which had not at first been notice 
 able, had changed with the marvelous swiftness of 
 insanity. Lowering his voice and speaking in an 
 awestruck whisper, which was, however, to be 
 heard throughout the room, he said : 
 
 " Know you who is there ? " 
 
 With these words he pointed upward to the low 
 murky ceiling not over a foot above his head. 
 
 Norbert felt his hair rise with sudden dread. 
 He would have shaken the man's hand from his 
 shoulder, but feared to arouse him to a more peril 
 ous violence. 
 
 The soldiers in the room, who had not appeared 
 to notice Norbert on his entrance, now looked up 
 from their beer mugs and stared at the speaker with 
 coarse, jeering wonder. 
 
 Still pointing upward and striking into a singular, 
 chanted wail of mournful solemnity, Droust now 
 cried : 
 
 " O thou Hope of Israel, 
 Thou Saviour thereof in time of trouble, 
 Why shouldest thou be as a stranger in the land? 
 As a wayfaring man who turns aside to tarry for a night? 
 Why shouldest thou be as a man astonied? 
 As a mighty man that cannot save ! " 
 
 Startled for a moment by the wild pathos of 
 these words and the passionate intensity with which 
 they were pronounced, Norbert now rallied himself 
 to check any further outburst, and had broken away 
 and approached the door, feigning to be afraid of 
 the man, when Droust cried at the highest pitch of 
 his voice, trembling with fierce upbraiding : " O, 
 ye of Nederland, answer ! Cravens and cowards, 
 make reply ! 
 
 " Wherefore when I came was there no man? 
 When I called was there none to answer?" 
 
 Look upon him whose heart his countrymen have 
 broken ! "
 
 286 
 
 Then sinking his voice again to a whisper and 
 addressing Norbert with curious, childish exulta 
 tion, he added : 
 
 " The prince is here. Could a man who had 
 once seen him forget ? " 
 
 At this word the soldiers, who had been gaping 
 wide-eyed upon the scene, sprang as with one con 
 sent to their feet, and with fierce and hostile glances 
 advanced toward Norbert, the foremost among them, 
 exclaiming : 
 
 " What is all this, young man ? This madman, 
 it seems, knows more than any of us ! Who is in 
 this house ? If you know, make answer ! " 
 
 " How should I know ? " exclaimed Norbert, 
 with bluff impatience; " have I not just come in, 
 my good friends ? As for yon arm-gaunt lunatic's 
 raving, an' so you be such gulls as to pay heed to 
 it, I will bid you good even and seek my bed if 
 mine host can direct me to one up yonder. Sleep 
 were better than such idle chaffer." 
 
 As he spoke Norbert had little by little made his 
 way to the door. Lowering looks and muttered 
 curses and calls of " Nassau ! Nassau ! " had met 
 his speech. His intent was, if matters became 
 more threatening, to make a bold dash up the stairs, 
 warn the prince, whose room in that small house 
 he could not fail to find, and stand guard while in 
 some way he should make good his escape. 
 
 But already he saw that such action would be im 
 possible. The soldiers, who were of the hired Hes 
 sian troops of the army which the prince had but two 
 weeks since disbanded at Strasburg, half-paid in 
 spite of his desperate sacrifice and efforts, were 
 already surrounding him, hands on swords, their 
 swarthy faces aflame with fierce suspicion. Droust 
 had sunk back into his corner in a miserable col 
 lapse of uncomprehending bewilderment. The host 
 stared, impassive and neutral, from his place. 
 
 " You come not off so easy with your cheap
 
 287 
 
 talk, master," cried the men. "Bide you here! 
 Fools and madmen speak sometimes truer than 
 other men. If William of Nassau is in this house 
 we shall see him, he shall not escape us ! " 
 
 " Look at our shoes ! " cried their spokesman, 
 pointing to his ill-shod feet ; " look at these rags," 
 and he displayed his tattered doublet. " We fight 
 for pay and no pay have we got. Neither food nor 
 drink nor shelter has his excellency provided us 
 this month past. And now we hear he is off to 
 France, to their lordships at La Rochelle, while we 
 poor devils drop in our tracks of cold and hunger ! " 
 
 " Has the Prince of Orange wherewith to pay 
 you, my friend ? I have heard that he is himself 
 impoverished," returned Norbert, seeking now only 
 to stem the tide and unable to foresee the issue of 
 this most unlucky encounter. 
 
 " We'll have it out of him ! " cried a big blonde 
 giant with hollow cheeks and a coarse bristling 
 moustache who had stood in the background staring 
 at Norbert under fiercely knit brows. 
 
 " But he has sold his plate, sold his jewels, sold 
 his horses, harness, his very tent ! " cried Norbert, 
 whose passion was now rising hotly and who could 
 no longer sustain his futile show of indifference. 
 "His Netherlands estates are all confiscate. He 
 has done his uttermost ! " 
 
 " He has his castle of Dillenburg yet, however," 
 growled the man savagely ; " we will make holiday 
 and ride over- the hills, a dozen or two of us, and 
 see what he may have tucked away there." 
 
 "It may hap," said the leader, with a coarse 
 laugh, "that we find enough to fill our pouches for 
 a day or more. It's worth the ride. But we'll see 
 who is hid here in the house first hen, my men? " 
 
 At this moment the host of the Hirsch, who had 
 stood on the edge of the angry group and to whom 
 Norbert thought to appeal in the defense of the 
 prince, interposed with the remark :
 
 288 
 
 " There is in good sooth, my masters, a gentle 
 man who sits writing at this moment in the room 
 above us who seeks to pass for a wine merchant 
 from Riidesheim. It may be that such is his per 
 son and degree, but b.eshrew me if ever until this 
 night I have met wine merchants whose letters, as 
 they lie on the table, bear the seal of Spain and 
 of the emperor ! " 
 
 A wild uproar greeted this statement and Nor- 
 bert noted with deepest dread the harsh implacable 
 determination on every face. More than once, in 
 the months just passed, he had seen the life of the 
 prince in imminent danger from the mutinous mer 
 cenaries, had even seen his sword shot from his 
 side in such an outbreak. 
 
 How many of these ferocious brutes could he 
 dispatch before they would dispatch him ? was all 
 the question which now seemed left him. To die 
 fighting for the prince had no terrors, but to make 
 that death availing, this alone was left. 
 
 A hand was laid then on Norbert's shoulder. 
 Turning he saw the prince himself at his side. The 
 gray surtout and broad-brimmed hat had been re 
 moved and he stood with bared head, the striking 
 nobility of his face now fully displayed. 
 
 For an instant, while the soldiers for awe of him 
 fell back, their wild and murderous clamor dying 
 down to a sullen muttering, the prince stood in 
 silence looking at them with fearless repose of bear 
 ing and yet with a light of proud and regal com 
 mand in his dark eyes : 
 
 " I heard my name called," he said then quietly ; 
 "you are men, if I mistake not, who have been 
 with us in our campaign in Flanders." 
 
 "That we are," cried the foremost Hessian 
 threateningly. " We have seen service with your 
 excellency, but we have not seen our wages yet. 
 Look at our condition," and he displayed his de 
 plorable habiliments.
 
 289 
 
 Norbert kept his hand on his pistol and his eye 
 on the savage blonde fellow who stood against the 
 wall and whose look was ominously ugly as it 
 rested upon the face of the prince. 
 
 " My men, your plight is hard enough," returned 
 the prince with freehearted earnestness; "if it 
 were in my power to relieve your necessities most 
 gladly would I do it. But I am, as you now see 
 me, stripped down to the barest needs. I have 
 scarce two horses left or a second doublet to my 
 back, a roof over my head or a gulden in my wallet. 
 What I have had has been shared with my soldiers, 
 and what I shall have in months to come shall be 
 likewise. Can I do more ? " 
 
 Stubborn murmurs, "We want our wages," still 
 arose. 
 
 " You might take my life," said the prince, noting 
 their savage temper "but a dead man pays no 
 debts. I am not loth to die, and I stand defenseless 
 before you ; and yet a stab in the dark is little to 
 my liking. The Nassaus are not cowards, but we 
 would fain die in the field, fighting for faith and 
 freedom. The boy Adolf left dead in the bloody 
 marshes of Heiliger-Lee was the first of us to fall, 
 but he will not be the last. But as long as I have 
 life I shall labor to discharge my just debts to my 
 men. If I had aught it should be yours this very 
 night. But what have I left ? " 
 
 The blonde fellow in the background growled 
 between his teeth : 
 
 " We will go to Dillenburg and see ! " 
 
 "You might go to Dillenburg," returned the 
 prince with a vibration of passion in his voice which 
 he was unable wholly to control, "and what would 
 you find there ? A heartbroken, aged mother, 
 weeping for her dead son, and praying that those 
 remaining may be spared to her ; a company of 
 faithful wives and sisters and little children ; a 
 house stripped bare of all but necessities for the 
 
 T
 
 290 
 
 sake of the cause for which we have fought to 
 gether. No, my men, go not to Dillenburg. Go 
 rather with me to France, as a thousand of your 
 fellow-soldiers are pledged to do, and bear arms for 
 the same good cause on French soil. Count Louis 
 is already there. We shall come back to the con 
 flict at home when the time is ripe. The Hugue 
 nots are not so poor as we Gueux. You will get 
 your pay fighting there. If I return alive I pledge 
 you now, herewith, on my honor as man and prince, 
 my body itself, which you can hold alive or dead for 
 ransom if I cannot by other means pay you the last 
 penny I owe you ! " 
 
 The men looked in open-mouthed wonder at each 
 other and were silent. No man had ever known 
 the Prince of Orange to break a pledge. The se 
 curity was unfamiliar, but it might be sufficient. 
 And this French campaign was perhaps the next 
 best thing to turn to. Even their brutal selfishness 
 was touched for the moment, moreover, by the 
 fearless confidence of the prince and by the steady 
 patience with which he met their demands. 
 
 He was quick to see the advantage he had gained. 
 
 "My men," he cried, "I am tired. I have 
 ridden far to-day and have farther to ride to 
 morrow. Ride with me, as many of you as are 
 ready for the fight in France ; but I would be glad 
 now to rest. If you want me you can find me, 
 although where I am to lodge, in faith, I know not 
 yet. Tontorf, how is that ? " he added, turning 
 quickly, for a sudden, eager question was brighten 
 ing his eye. " Have we other haven for the night 
 than this house, whose master methinks might 
 have proved friendlier to a somewhat weary way 
 farer ? " 
 
 " Nay, my lord, alas, we have nowhere else to 
 go," said Norbert under his breath. 
 
 A swift change passed over the face of the prince. 
 The grim finality and bitterness of Norbert's words
 
 291 
 
 and tone gave the outline of a picture whose colors 
 he could but too easily imagine. For a moment the 
 sense of homelessness and desolation pierced his 
 heart and entered deep into his soul. Slowly and 
 with an effort he spoke again. 
 
 " 1 am going up to the room yonder now, where 
 I shall sleep for a few hours." Then with swift 
 command he cried heartily : " How many of you, 
 then, will meet me here at six in the morning and 
 ride with me to Treves ? " 
 
 After a moment, in which they exchanged glances, 
 every man held up his hand, the big blonde alone 
 surly and reluctant still. 
 
 The prince bade them shake hands upon it, and, 
 with a courteous good-night, withdrew. Norbert 
 followed him up the dark staircase and they entered 
 the dismal chamber together. 
 
 The prince made no comment on the encounter 
 with the soldiers which he apparently dismissed at 
 once from his mind as of small importance, nor did 
 the least apprehension of further danger from their 
 hostility seem to remain in his mind. 
 
 "Have you any word, any message for me, 
 Tontorf, from my wife ? " he asked as he threw 
 himself upon his narrow bed. 
 
 "None, my lord," was Norbert's brief answer. 
 More he could not say for very ruth. 
 
 There was silence for many minutes, then the 
 prince spoke again. 
 
 " The first dispatch I opened to-night was a copy 
 of a letter to Alva from Cardinal Granvelle." 
 
 "Yes, your excellency." 
 
 " He says ' Orange is a dead man.' Tontorf, we 
 shall have to convince the cardinal that he is mis 
 taken." 
 
 "Yes, your excellency." 
 
 In another quarter of an hour the prince slept. 
 
 At daybreak, as Norbert stood guard at the 
 chamber door a tall figure stole down the narrow
 
 292 
 
 passage in silence to his side, a figure which he 
 presently discerned to be that of the preacher 
 Droust as it stood motionless before him. 
 
 "Here," he said, holding out a small and dirty 
 canvas bag containing gold and silver, "this is for 
 him. I have no more need of it. I can see now 
 what I saw not last night below there. I know 
 what I have done. But for God's mercy my hands 
 might have been covered with blood his blood ! " 
 And a groan of agony broke from his trembling 
 lips. 
 
 Norbert sought to soothe his anguish of remorse, 
 but straightening himself suddenly, Droust whis 
 pered sternly under his breath : 
 
 " Why did you not put your pistol to my head 
 and fire when I spoke the first word ? You had 
 saved my doing it now. Farewell." 
 
 So saying, the broken-hearted and shattered 
 man turned on his heel and disappeared.
 
 XXVII 
 
 THE ROMANY WOMAN 
 
 T EAVES from the note-book of the Demoiselle 
 [_j de Mousson. 
 
 Jouarre, March, 1569: 
 
 " Le Prince de Con/ft 
 11 a'tt't tu'e. ; 
 
 Mais Monsieur f Amiral 
 Est encore a cheval. ' ' 
 
 This rough verse a soldier went singing down 
 the road into the village as my lady and I were 
 taking our way back to the abbey. We had been 
 training the village girls, who are preparing for 
 their Lady Day fete. Spring is in the air, and we 
 had found violets and anemones at the wood's edge. 
 The breath of peace seemed to blow in the soft 
 wind and to stir in the buds and to speak in the gay 
 little chirp of a robin. There was a thrill of the 
 joy of it in my lady's voice, and it stirred in my 
 heart, for war seemed a thing incredible, and room 
 yet in our fair France for hope and gladness. 
 
 Then the soldier went singing and swinging down 
 the road, and our hearts stood still, and the dear 
 light seemed stained, and all the world grew gray. 
 
 My lady bade me stop the man, who wore the 
 king's colors, and call him to her. 
 
 " What is this you sing ? " she asked, her face 
 grown white. 
 
 "God's truth," he said, and stared at her, but 
 with reverence, as all men will, for that high look 
 in her face and the gentle authority she bears. 
 " Le Petit Homme est mori !" 
 
 293
 
 294 
 
 " Did he die in battle ?" asked my lady. 
 
 " Madame, there has been hard fighting on the 
 Charente, near Jarnac. The enemy were out 
 flanked. Conde had an arm crushed, and a kick 
 from the horse of La Rochefoucauld broke his' 
 thigh. ' But he dashed upon one of our battalions, 
 eight hundred strong, his banner flying, at the head 
 of but three hundred gentlemen. He cried, 'No 
 bles of France, mark in what plight Louis de Bour 
 bon enters the battle for Christ and Fatherland ! ' " 
 
 " A gallant charge ! " I cried, unable to forbear. 
 
 " Madame," said the man, " the Prince of Conde 
 was a soldier. His worst foe cannot say otherwise, 
 but he was the great enemy of the Mass. His 
 horse was killed under him and he was surrounded. 
 Montesquieu dispatched him with a pistol shot. 
 The body was thrown across an ass and so carried 
 to Jarnac." 
 
 "I would they had thrown his banner over 
 him," said my lady. " Dost thou remember, 
 Jeanne, the motto of the Prince of Conde, ' Sweet 
 the peril for Christ and country ' ? " 
 
 With that her voice broke and the tears came in 
 a sudden shower. 
 
 " It was a great victory," said the soldier stol 
 idly ; " the enemy lost hundreds and many officers 
 were slain or taken prisoner." 
 
 " Coligny ? " asked Mademoiselle. 
 
 " He escaped and led the retreat back to Cognac, 
 but we captured the Chevalier de la Noue, which 
 was a lucky stroke. Better yet would it have 
 been could we have seized that yellow-haired 
 rover from Germany. He fought like the devil 
 himself and yet with a smile on his face as if he 
 were at a dance." 
 
 " The Count of Nassau ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 "That is the man," said the soldier. "His 
 brother, the Prince of Orange, they say, is on the 
 march now into France with reinforcements from
 
 Germany for the enemy. Those Dutchmen would 
 better stick to their country and leave us French 
 men to fight our own battles. Madame, I bid you 
 good-day," and with this the soldier swung on his 
 way to Jouarre singing his dreadful little song. 
 
 Jouarre, September, 1569: Jeannette Vassetz hath 
 a pleurisy. She is not in serious case, but this 
 same pleurisy will give the story of I know not 
 how many lives a different turn and issue. 
 
 For the Prince of Orange, crossing France in dis 
 guise from Chatellerault to Montbeliard on an 
 urgent mission from Coligny to the German princes, 
 halted at Montargis and sent a secret messenger 
 ostensibly with news from Angers, but in reality to 
 offer safe-conduct to my lady into Germany if she 
 were mindful to leave Jouarre at such short notice. 
 
 The messenger, disguised as a gray friar, was 
 none other than Captain Tontorf, and my lady 
 gave him private audience, the rather that he 
 brought a word from the Queen of Navarre strongly 
 advising her to avail herself of this means of escape. 
 
 " Your friends are in no small concern, madame, 
 for your safety," proceeded this same soldier-friar 
 earnestly. 
 
 " And why, good Tontorf ? " asked my lady. 
 *' Methinks nowhere is human safety to-day, and 
 yet everywhere is the divine protection." 
 
 " Hitherto, madame, it has been the belief of 
 your friends that whatever threatened you, your 
 friends were powerful to be your shield. To-day 
 we are no longer confident. The army has had 
 terrible reverses and is hard pressed. The forces 
 of Coligny rest for the moment, thinned and ex 
 hausted at La Faye. The royalists, under the Due 
 d'Anjou and the Prince Dauphin, Madame's brother, 
 are so near us as Moncontour in great force, fresh 
 and well appointed. There will be bloody work 
 ere long." \
 
 296 
 
 " Is my father in command of monseigneur's 
 vanguard ? " 
 
 " Even so. Mademoiselle has heard of the con 
 templated marriage of the Due de Montpensier ? " 
 
 My lady started violently. 
 
 " To whom ? " she whispered. 
 
 " To Catherine of Lorraine, daughter of Francois 
 of Guise." 
 
 My lady hereupon became greatly agitated. 
 
 The Lady Catherine is but eighteen and of a most 
 wanton character, with a name even now notorious 
 for her rancorous spite against Huguenoterie, even 
 beyond what one might expect of the niece of the 
 Cardinal de Lorraine, " the Tiger of France." 
 
 Was it possible that at fifty-five the husband of 
 that noble lady, Jacqueline de Long-Vic, could form 
 a union with such a creature ? 
 
 "Monsieur," said my lady sternly, "are you 
 sure that what you say is true ? " 
 
 " Madame, there is unhappily no further doubt 
 on the subject. The alliance has been negotiated 
 by the bishop of Angers, Jean Ruze, and the mar 
 riage is expected to take place shortly in that city." 
 
 This was indeed news from Angers. I could see 
 how my lady put to use all her will and control, so 
 crowding down her outraged feelings, as she now 
 said quietly to Tontorf : 
 
 " This being so, monsieur, I can the better under 
 stand the concern of my friends. I am indeed 
 doubly alone in the world if such is my father's 
 choice. Tell me, then, what is in the mind of 
 Madame d'AIbret? " 
 
 " Your highness, as you know, it is no longer pos 
 sible for her majesty, who shares the dangers and 
 fortunes of the army since she has put her young 
 son at the head of it, to offer you a safe retreat. 
 It is her belief that nowhere in France can such be 
 found for the daughter of so bitter a Romanist and 
 so powerful a prince and soldier as your father."
 
 2 9 7 
 
 "Whither could we go ? " asked Mademoiselle, 
 trembling not a little. 
 
 " The Prince of Orange has with him forty 
 mounted companions, true blades every one. He 
 engages to convey Madame 1'Abbesse and two of 
 her ladies safely over the border, and to any court 
 in Germany she may name. He makes bold to 
 assure her warm welcome and strong protection at 
 the hands of the Elector Palatine." 
 
 " The Prince of Orange," said my lady slowly, 
 " has met with reverses, as we hear, himself. But 
 he has a heart for the needs of others, it seems, 
 even strangers." 
 
 "Madame," replied Tontorf, and his voice be 
 trayed strong feeling, " I have seen my lord when 
 he lived in royal splendor, the most magnificent 
 grandee of the Netherlands, and I thought him then 
 the greatest man I had ever seen. But now I have 
 seen him when, like our blessed Redeemer, he had 
 not where to lay his head, when he was hunted, 
 poor, threatened, rejected, and counted as dead 
 even by the woman who is called his wife, and in 
 such extremity I have found him far, far greater, 
 such is his constancy, his courage, his fortitude. 
 Forgive me if I speak over-boldly, but my lord has 
 been greatly misjudged, and there are few now to 
 raise their voices on his behalf." 
 
 "You do well to speak, Captain Tontorf," said 
 my lady gravely. There were tears in her eyes, 
 but there rested on her face that new light of lofty 
 yet humble homage with which the mention of the 
 prince ever inspires her. " Sure such a man can 
 yet win victory out of defeat, and by God's grace 
 he will. It touches me deeply that amid his own 
 private anxieties and upon his urgent mission the 
 prince should thus turn aside and suffer delay in my 
 behalf. Have you considered by what means so bold 
 a venture could be contrived, for to me it is full 
 sudden ? "
 
 298 
 
 "Yes, your highness, we have presumed to frame 
 the plan that you and two of your ladies should on 
 this very morning, even within an hour or two, set 
 out on an alleged mission to the convent of Sainte 
 Foy, at Coulommiers. There I will meet you with 
 the small guard which now awaits my return. By 
 sharp riding we can reach Montargis by noon to 
 morrow. His excellency awaits our coming. The 
 rest follows." 
 
 I could see that my lady was greatly moved. 
 She gave her hand to Tontorf without a word, and 
 he touched it as if she had been the Holy Virgin to 
 whom he had just sworn himself. 
 
 "Oh, my lady," I burst forth, unable longer to 
 control myself, for all my pulses were running wild 
 in my longing to be free, "do not stop to think! 
 You will hesitate and the chance will be lost ! 
 Say yes, I beg of you, and take me with you ! " 
 
 Vain, selfish words ! I saw it in a moment. 
 
 My lady had flushed high, and for a moment I 
 believe she was indeed ready to follow my poor 
 counsel. The tender care of the Queen of Navarre, 
 perhaps yet more the determined effort of the 
 prince, her own indignant protest against the insult 
 to her mother's memory by this marriage of the 
 Due, and the fresh dangers which would now be 
 brought to threaten her own life and liberty by the 
 close alliance with the Guises, for a moment com 
 bined to a mighty force. 
 
 "Jeanne," she said slowly, "at this moment I 
 feel my duty here ended. The vows of my child 
 hood I have long held to be null and void. My 
 father has chosen to sever the ties which bound me 
 to him and which might have availed to hold me 
 here in obedience to his will. I am free. Never 
 again perchance will such noble guardiance be prof 
 fered me." 
 
 " Then, dear lady," urged Tontorf, " say quickly 
 you will go. One word is all, and I am off."
 
 299 
 
 There was the silence of a moment, and then : 
 
 "I cannot," said my lady simply, paling sud 
 denly, her hands falling languidly apart. " Go, 
 my friend. Give my deepest gratitude to his grace 
 of Orange, but say it is impossible." 
 
 " Why, why, my lady ? " I begged. 
 
 "Have we both forgotten our poor little Jean- 
 nette on her sick bed ? Jeanne, have you forgot 
 ten too, that old promise we children made in Our 
 Lady's Arbor : ' Together we stay, together we 
 go ' ? You would not break that pledge, dear 
 Jeanne ? " 
 
 " No, my lady," I said, and my head drooped 
 low, for the great, mad, joyous hope with which all 
 my body was thrilling died then. "No, my lady, 
 we will keep our pledge." 
 
 In few words Mademoiselle showed our case to 
 Tontorf. He chafed hotly for a little, and yet saw 
 that other decision could not be. 
 
 "Your highness, there is no more to be said,'* 
 he said under his breath. " Be of good courage. 
 Heaven has such as you in holy keeping. Your 
 friends, be sure, will never cease to watch over 
 you while life and liberty are theirs." 
 
 And with that he was gone, strangely, mysteri 
 ously as he had come. 
 
 Then said my lady, lifting a finger of warning : 
 
 "Jeanne de Mousson, if you should ever let this 
 be known to the good little Vassetz I will have such 
 a penance given you as will take all your life to 
 accomplish," and so, smiling, she brushed a few 
 tears from her eyelashes and betook herself 
 straightway to the infirmary. 
 
 Jouarre, June, 1570: My lady talked with me long 
 and seriously to-day and I had a glimpse into the 
 deep life of her spirit. 
 
 The conflict of the two great forms of religion 
 has become doubly severe for her by reason of her
 
 office as abbess of this house. She can no longer 
 find satisfaction in the Mass, in confession, and in 
 the invocation of the blessed Virgin and the saints. 
 The power of the immediate, simple approach to 
 God and our Saviour which Protestantism offers, 
 appeals to her mightily. And yet she sees much 
 that is noble and true in the ancient faith and seeks 
 with fervent will to overcome the discord between 
 the two. She longs for freedom to follow her inner 
 light and leading fully, but since freedom may not 
 be, she seeks in humility and patience to walk in 
 her appointed path. 
 
 Jouarre, 10 August, 1570: Great rejoicing through 
 out France to-day, for, thanks to the good offices 
 and skillful conduct of the negotiations of Messieurs 
 Teligny and La Noue at St. Germain-en-Laye, a 
 new and favorable edict of peace has been declared, 
 and the land at last is to have rest. This has been 
 the fiercest civil war that France has ever known, 
 and the whole land lies bleeding. 
 
 The terms of the peace, as might be expected, 
 leave much yet to desire for the Huguenots, but 
 the king formally and in good set terms recognizes 
 as faithful relations and servants the Queen of 
 Navarre, the Prince Henri her son, and the late 
 Prince of Conde and his son ; their followers as 
 loyal subjects ; and by name, as good neighbors 
 and friends, the Prince of Orange and his brother, 
 Count Louis of Nassau. 
 
 Jouarre, January, 7577 : We have been for a time 
 without a confessor in residence, the good priest 
 of La Ferte serving our needs most cheerfully. But 
 now a chaplain has been sent us, sent we are con 
 fident from the Cardinal de Lorraine himself, at 
 the instance of his niece, Madame de Montpensier, 
 who has lately visited our convent. 
 
 Truly her visit boded us little good. Her inso-
 
 301 
 
 lence, as also her suspicion of my lady's Catholicity, 
 were scarce veiled by her very indifferent courtesy. 
 To me, for some cause, she manifested a peculiar 
 aversion. On her departure, having learned through 
 Sister Marie Beauclerc that Mademoiselle absents 
 herself from confession, and even from Mass as far 
 as may be, she forebore not to speak in palpably 
 threatening terms. 
 
 " Monseigneur le Due, machere," she said with 
 a cruel sneer, "will, in his fatherly tenderness, 
 watch over you something more carefully hence 
 forward. In truth you have been sadly neglected, 
 and I shall so admonish the excellent Ruze, whom 
 we hold Mademoiselle's spiritual father still." 
 
 Shortly after there appeared upon the scene this 
 young and fiery Benedictine monk, whom we call 
 Pere Brodier. This is the first effect upon us of 
 the marriage of Mademoiselle's father. 
 
 Pere Brodier has taken up his abode with us, 
 my lady consenting perforce since he came direct 
 from the Bishop of Meaux, and she has no reason 
 to urge against him. 
 
 The sight of the man chills me, and he is every 
 where I go. He has cold, measuring eyes, sharp 
 as a ferret's withal, and a soft, low voice, which 
 angers me every time I hear it. With him set to 
 watch over us, Jouarre becomes intolerable. 
 
 This much is certain. We can no longer receive 
 the Sieur de Minay as hitherto, and enjoy his pious 
 and learned instruction, and no longer do we even 
 venture to receive his letters nor those of the Count 
 of Nassau nor of Madame d'Albret, all of whom are 
 warned. We know ourselves now to be keenly 
 watched. The cardinal, sulking in his tent there 
 at Rheims, in his bitter rage against the peace has 
 now turned his eye upon us, and close in his coun 
 sels are his niece, Madame de Montpensier, with 
 her strangely wanton cruelty, her husband, my 
 lady's father, and the Bishop of Angers.
 
 302 
 
 Oh, to flee away from their dark and hateful 
 shadow ! Yet whither can we flee ? We were forced 
 to reject our one opportunity. My lady's serene 
 patience and steadfast cheerfulness are a marvel. 
 I think she keeps ever before her mind one noble 
 exemplar. 
 
 Jouarre, 3 August, 1571: Six weary and anxious 
 months have passed ; but to-day, at last, a ray of 
 hope has pierced our convent wall, and truly by 
 a means most unexpected. This morning there 
 strayed into the abbey courtyard in the burning 
 sunshine a Romany beggar woman, with her 
 swarthy face, a motley kerchief tied on her blue- 
 black hair, a bright-eyed marmot of a baby on her 
 arm, a lute hung by a riband from her shoulder, 
 and a gay little song to sing to us. Many of the 
 sisters gathered about to hear her, and from the 
 door of the Sainte Chapelle Pere Brodier stepped 
 out into the shadow of the portal and stood looking 
 on coldly at our levity. 
 
 As she sang I noted the woman's eyes turned 
 oftenest to my face, and when her song broke off 
 she smiled broadly, showing her white teeth, and 
 cried : 
 
 " Ah, but the young lady is too pretty for a nun ! 
 Let me tell your fortune, mademoiselle," and quite 
 to my dismay she therewith incontinently seized 
 my hand, held it fast in hers, lifting it close to her 
 face. I struggled to be free, noting the malicious 
 smile on the face of Sister Marie Beauclerc, who 
 would like full well to see me convicted of vanity 
 and indecorum, and conscious as well of the eyes 
 of Pere Brodier. Laughing blithely and quite un 
 disturbed the woman cried shrilly : 
 
 " Ah, what is this I read ? First of all, your 
 name is plainly written on your hand the Demoi 
 selle de Mousson," and she eyed me sharply. 
 
 My face turned red, and indeed I found most
 
 amazing this seeming clairvoyance, which in truth 
 was no clairvoyance at all, and a murmur of curi 
 osity and surprise ran around. 
 
 Little minded to furnish so doubtful amusement 
 for an idle hour I frowned, and with a strong effort 
 snatched my hand from the woman's brown fingers. 
 
 "Fie on you, mademoiselle," she cried shrilly, 
 as springing away into the center of the group, and 
 touching the strings of her lute, she broke out into 
 another song. 
 
 But in my hand I found she had, quite unseen, 
 left a small, close roll of paper. I tossed the woman 
 a coin, but feigning offended dignity and displeas 
 ure, hastened from the court and sought the refec 
 tory, which I found deserted. There I made haste 
 to unroll the tiny note. On one side of the paper 
 were scrawled faintly the characters, much faded by 
 contact with the woman's palm : 
 
 To the Lady ofjovis ara. 
 On the other side were the words: 
 
 " The court is at Liimigney. Hasten thither for 
 good reason. N." 
 
 Much excited I sought my lady, noting in the way 
 that the Romany woman was slowly departing from 
 the court. Blurred and dim as was the writing, 
 we recognized it on the instant to be that of the 
 gallant Count of Nassau. We knew already that 
 the king and queen-mother were at their castle 
 near Fontenay-en-Brie for a week of hunting. On 
 the moment ourdecision was made. 
 
 Throughout the day, the incident of the Romany 
 woman quite forgot by all save ourselves, my lady 
 has spoken freely of her desire, if the weather be 
 not too warm, to do her devoir in a visit to the 
 queen-mother, whom she had not seen since the 
 "affair of Meaux," she being now so near us as
 
 304 
 
 Fontenay. She has discussed the project freely 
 with Sister Marie Beauclerc, who is strangely like 
 Cecile Crue, and whose opinion she feigned to de 
 sire as to the time required for the ride to Fonte 
 nay. Sister Marie warmly approves the excursion. 
 So then at four in the afternoon, which is but an 
 hour hence, with Jeannette Vassetz and four of our 
 men for escort, we shall set forth for Fontenay, 
 wondering much what shall there befall us. 
 
 Lumigney -en-Erie, 4 August, 7577 : Blessings on 
 the black-eyed Romany woman ! She did us the 
 goodliest service and most deftly too she did it ! 
 
 We found ourselves abundantly welcomed on our 
 arrival at this castle late last evening by Queen 
 Catharine, who professed to have been hurt that 
 her dear little Bourbon cousine had not sooner rid 
 den over to pay her compliments. The king in his 
 dull, languid fashion was most gracious also to my 
 lady, but far more to us at the moment than royal 
 favor was it to find at the castle and on the friend 
 liest footing with their majesties, and watching 
 eagerly for our coming, the Count of Nassau and 
 our good friends the Chevalier de la Noue and de 
 Teligny. 
 
 My lady, who had brought with her a court dress 
 of white satin embroidered with silver and pearls, 
 attended the queen-mother at a banquet in the cas 
 tle hall at a late hour last evening, looking a very 
 queen herself in her fair and stately beauty, with 
 but her white nun's wimple and the ring on her 
 forefinger to mark her as religieuse, and these 
 methinks, with her gentle loftiness do but render 
 her the more enchanting. The Princess Marguerite 
 is in attendance on her mother. She is dazzlingly 
 beautiful, but hers is the beauty of the court lady 
 artificial, heartless, and haughty. Never did Ma 
 demoiselle in her grave, pure repose look lovelier 
 than by her side.
 
 305 
 
 We hear a hint that, to seal this present peace 
 beyond chance of rupture, a marriage between the 
 Princess Marguerite and the son of the Queen of 
 Navarre, my old playmate Prince Henri, is contem 
 plated. 
 
 It was midnight when I was called to my lady's 
 room, and I found her flushed with gladness, her 
 eyes full of light. She held a letter in her hand. 
 
 " Jeanne, my Jeanne ! " she cried, her voice low 
 but thrilling with eagerness, " I have good news to 
 bring thee. Our friends are working in our behalf. 
 So much is certain. There is hope for our speedy 
 release. I have had but five minutes with Teligny 
 alone, and less with the Count of Nassau, but we 
 shall meet at the hunt to-morrow." 
 
 "And was it really Count Louis who sent the 
 Romany woman to Jouarre ? " I asked. 
 
 "Of a surety. He is most delighted over the 
 success of his little enterprise, which in sooth was 
 a somewhat doubtful one. Look, Jeanne, what 
 Teligny has brought me this letter from the Queen 
 of Navarre, whom he left but a few days since at 
 La Rochelle. Let us read it together." 
 
 So our heads were soon bent over the sheet. 
 
 " Ma cousine," wrote Her Majesty, "/ have re 
 ceived your letter and am infinitely sorry that I am 
 unable to serve you as I desire. I pray you not to 
 doubt my affection, which can never fail toward you. 
 Your affair is of such importance that it would take 
 only a small blunder to spoil everything. Since the 
 bearer promises me Men surement to convey my letter 
 to your hands, I will now say plainly that we find no 
 better expedient for you than for you to go to Madame 
 de TBouillon, your sister (in Sedan), and thence to 
 Germany, . . later to return to my own country and 
 to me. This is what I infinitely desire in order to 
 show you my affection and that you are to me as my 
 own daughter, for if this plan shall succeed I shall be
 
 306 
 
 able to bear toward you the office of mother in all that 
 which concerns your dignity and happiness (votre 
 grandeur et contentment}. 
 
 "It is necessary, ma cousine, that the plan shall be 
 carried out with utmost wisdom and secrecy. I beg 
 you, by means of Monsieur de Teligny, who can be 
 relied upon to bring me your letters, to tell me what 
 you would desire me to do in proof of my love. 
 
 ' ' In this assurance I pray God, ma cousine, that he 
 will abundantly grant you of his holy grace. 
 
 " Your good cousin and perpetual friend, 
 
 JEH4NNE." 1 
 
 My lady kissed the letter over and over with her 
 eyes brimming with tears. 
 
 " This gives us much to think of, little friend," 
 she said, looking then into my face. " This is no 
 light nor easy step for us to take. How is it ? Art 
 thou ready to hazard all, leaving the plan to be 
 worked out for us by Madame d'Albret and our 
 other good friends ? Art thou strong enough, 
 Jeanne, to bear all the dangers, all the poverty, 
 the calumny and ill-report that our flight from 
 Jouarre will surely bring upon us ? Think now 
 before it is too late to draw back." 
 
 " Mademoiselle, I am ready," I said without 
 hesitation ; " and I know that Jeannette is also." 
 
 Surely naught can be harder to endure than the 
 espionage and menace and religious bondage which 
 we now suffer. 
 
 Lumigney '-en-Brie, 5 August, 1571: This morning 
 I alone of our little party accompanied my lady 
 to the hunt, to which she rode with her majesty 
 the queen-mother, but only so far as to a lodge in 
 the heart of the forest of Fontenay, where break 
 fast was served. 
 
 1 Letter of the Queen of Navarre to Mademoiselle de Bourbon from La 
 Rochelle, July 28. 1571.
 
 307 
 
 The Count of Nassau rode beside us through the 
 green woodland path. Methinks the war has but 
 knit the firmer the supple grace of his body and 
 quickened his buoyant energy. An indescribable 
 lustre is in his eyes whenever they chance to rest 
 upon my lady. La Noue generously tells us that, 
 although a foreigner in France, the count has be 
 come the hero of the Huguenot army, and, had 
 Coligny not recovered from his illness a j'ear ago, 
 he would without doubt have been called to lead 
 the forces. Queen Catharine is, it would appear, 
 enamored of the count's presence, and keeps him 
 continually at her side, giving him the place at her 
 right hand at the table. 
 
 The Chevalier de la Noue himself shows more 
 than does Count Louis the ravages and rigors of 
 the war. He is worn gaunt from his many months' 
 imprisonment, and has a clumsy and wearisome 
 device of iron to replace the arm that was shot off 
 at Fontenay a year ago, and which has given him 
 the sobriquet of Bras de fer. But he bears himself, 
 as ever, with right soldierly spirit, and all three of 
 these gentlemen stand at the moment high in the 
 royal favor. 
 
 That they are here for a great State purpose it 
 needs not to say. But my lady tells me that she 
 learns that this rather mysterious conference is 
 held at the instance of his grace of Orange and in 
 his name and in behalf of the Netherlands. 
 
 The prince has noted the change in the temper 
 and disposition of the court, and with his masterly 
 diplomacy seeks to make swift use of it to gain 
 their majesties wholly over to the cause of his 
 people, which is hopeless without foreign aid. 
 
 Four powerful motives may contribute to the end 
 the prince so ardently seeks, as the Count of Nas 
 sau has told my lady : 
 
 First, the king is jealous of the warlike reputa 
 tion of his brother, d'Anjou, and wishes the dis-
 
 308 
 
 tinction of military success for himself ; in fine, 
 would like to embark on a new campaign wholly of 
 his own choosing. 
 
 Second, to ensure the success of such an under 
 taking he must engage the brilliant leadership of 
 Coligny, who has now in this last war abundantly 
 proved himself the greatest military genius in 
 France. This would bring the court and the Hugue 
 not leaders into close relations. 
 
 Third, Charles has conceived a deep distrust of 
 Philip of Spain since knowing of the treacherous 
 plotting of the Cardinal de Lorraine with Alva, 
 while Queen Catharine is greatly embittered by 
 the current report that her daughter, consort of 
 Philip, met her death by reason of poison adminis 
 tered by him. Charles sees Spain growing too 
 powerful, furthermore, and he is not adverse to 
 putting a check upon its aggressions by opposing 
 the progress of Alva in the Netherlands. 
 
 Fourth, an alliance is now actively projected 
 between the king's brother, Monsieur the Due 
 d'Anjou and Queen Elizabeth of England. This, 
 if it should go through, would bring into harmony 
 England, the Protestant princes of Germany, the 
 patriots of the Netherlands under the Nassaus, and 
 France, a magnificent combination, and one which 
 my lady says appeals powerfully to the ambition 
 of Charles. Apparently the queen-mother favors 
 it also. If only she could be trusted to do to-mor 
 row what she promises to-day ! If only one could 
 read behind that smooth, ivory mask ! If only she 
 were either Catholic or Protestant ! She remem 
 bers me well, and pretends to rail against the 
 Queen of Navarre who has, she says, spoiled such 
 a pretty maid of honor for her to make a poor, 
 pining nun, whose beauty is all thrown away on a 
 lot of dull old women. 
 
 I like her less than ever, but I confess she treats 
 my lady most affectionately and has given her in
 
 309 
 
 token of her kindness a large mirror of rock crystal, 
 framed in gold, set with two diamonds and six 
 rubies, the reverse being of lapis lazuli curiously 
 engraved, a right royal gift. And now to return 
 to our morning in the forest of Fontenay. 
 
 We came out upon the terrace of the hunting 
 lodge, breakfast over, and my lady strolled slowly 
 down a green alley between the tall beeches with 
 my lord de Teligny in earnest converse. He was 
 most eager to seize this moment to lay before her 
 the details of his plan for her departure from 
 Jouarre. He wishes all to be now laid in readiness 
 even to the final signals by which we shall act, 
 since we cannot hope again to meet face to face 
 and we dare not trust aught concerning our plans 
 to letters. Teligny and Count Louis engage to 
 confer ere their return to La Rochelle with the 
 Sieur de Minay, at Meaux, through whose kindly 
 offices my lady will seek to sell her property of 
 Saint Christ, thus securing funds for our long and 
 perilous journey into Germany. 
 
 I had myself strayed down from the terrace 
 where so much royalty oppressed me and had found 
 a nook where a small shrine was screened and 
 half enclosed by a clustering jessamine thick with 
 blossoms, when I heard a light step and there 
 stood in the pathway before me the Romany woman. 
 She was gazing with a strange fixed look in her 
 eyes down the path where I could myself see in the 
 long golden green vista the charming figure of my 
 lady with my lord de Teligny walking beside her, 
 his head bent toward her, her eyes lifted to his 
 face. 
 
 I do not know whether the woman observed me 
 or not in my little nook. She appeared to take note 
 only of those two figures. Something in her face 
 gave me a mysterious thrill of dread. She saw what 
 I did not see. 
 
 I held my breath for now she lifted her lute and
 
 3io 
 
 touched the strings with slow languorous fingers, 
 and with a plaintive voice, from which all the 
 joyance had fled and with eyes still fixed upon 
 those two she sang a strange little chanson, so 
 strange that I cannot forget it. It was on this wise : 
 
 What though she wear the veil ? 
 Full soon her vows shall fail, 
 
 Fail not her grace. 
 Sharp speeds for him life's close. 
 Myrtle for her and rose 
 
 Yet, death apace ! 
 
 Both whom they love shall wed. 
 Death haunt the bridal-bed, 
 
 Fetch-lights burn ever ! 
 Mark how the lady's knight 
 Knight's lady then shall plight! 
 Death shall their hands unite, 
 
 Death quickly sever ! 
 
 While she sang the last few words the Romany 
 woman turned her eyes slowly and fixed them 
 upon me, then without a word looked again at the 
 two forms far down in the flickering shade. Was it 
 a fancy, a delusion, a dream ? what was it ? As I 
 too looked fixedly at the twain I saw on either side 
 another figure dim, shadowy, wraith-like by my 
 lady there seemed to walk a knight in armor, by 
 my lord de Teligny the shape of a woman, wringing 
 her hands. 
 
 For a moment then I saw nothing, for all grew 
 black around me. When I opened my eyes the 
 Romany woman was nowhere in sight, but vanished 
 in the woods like some wild thing, and my lady was 
 there and was saying : 
 
 " Jeanne, my girl, I have spied you here in your 
 hiding-place. Why do you stare so with great, 
 frightened eyes, and why is your face so pale ? 
 Have you been dreaming ? Waken then and give 
 joy to my lord de Teligny. He has told me as we
 
 came hither that he is about to marry the lovely 
 Demoiselle de Coligny, daughter of the admiral." 
 
 As she spoke my lady looked like a creature of 
 life and joy, and upon the face of my lord was a 
 proud though gentle gladness, and all his mien in 
 stinct with youthful vigor. No shadow of death 
 could I see on either face. 
 
 What meant that mysterious, ill-omened song ? 
 Would God I had never heard it ! And yet it was 
 but the random rhyming of a wandering Romany 
 wench. I will think of it no more.
 
 XXVIII 
 SEVEN DUTCH BULBS 
 
 ON the first Friday in February, being the 
 fourth day of the month, Mass being just 
 over, the Abbess of Jouarre was met in the 
 calefactory by one who said that the gardener's 
 man Harlay, from Meaux, was waiting in the cloister 
 with tulip bulbs which he had brought her. 
 
 It was one of those February days when spring 
 bids fair to come before her time, when pools of 
 water on the pavements reflect a sky blue as sum 
 mer, and there is soft relenting in the air, and a 
 greening of the willow branches by the river. 
 
 Charlotte de Bourbon hastened to the cloister as 
 if the tulip bulbs were very welcome, with their 
 speaking of spring, and with her came a little bevy 
 of nuns, and others were strolling under the gray 
 arches enjoying the balm of the air. 
 
 There on the worn stone pavement stood the 
 gardener's man from Meaux, a quaint, bent little 
 varlet, in leathern breeches and a dingy doublet, 
 scraping and bowing and touching his forelock to 
 Mademoiselle. 
 
 She greeted him graciously by name, as he had 
 been on many an errand to Jouarre from his master, 
 and Sister Marie Beauclerc thought afterward that 
 she could remember an unwonted excitement in her 
 manner, and that her hands trembled slightly as she 
 received the bulbs. 
 
 " Here they are, madame, come all the way from 
 Holland," the man said, taking them one by one 
 from his inner doublet. " I have kept them warm 
 and good. They will blossom in the spring." 
 312
 
 "Was it a fancy, a delusion, a dream? what was it?" 
 
 Page 310
 
 313 
 
 " How many have you brought me, Harlay ? " 
 asked Mademoiselle. 
 
 "Seven only, madame," and he counted them 
 out into her hand "une, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, 
 six, sept voilti! That is all my master had this 
 time, but they are rare ones." 
 
 " You are sure he sent seven ? " 
 
 " Yes, I was to say that he would not mix them 
 to send your highness any of inferior kind. He is 
 most desirous that these may please madame la 
 princesse." 
 
 "Very gladly will I take these, tell your mas 
 ter," was Mademoiselle's reply ; " and I will pay the 
 price. Will you tell him that this is my word ? " 
 
 " That will I, your reverence." 
 
 "Remember!" 
 
 Mademoiselle then returned to the calefactory 
 with the sisters, all most anxious to examine the 
 little colorless bulbs, so much like onions, which 
 could produce such brilliant and queenly blossoms, 
 and none seemed more interested than the abbess 
 herself. 
 
 On the way to the refectory an hour later for din 
 ner, in a dark corner of the stone passage, she met 
 Jeanne de Mousson, who had but then returned 
 from an errand to Jouarre. 
 
 "The bulbs have come," said Charlotte quite 
 carelessly. "Seven, Jeanne." 
 
 The bright color of the Bearnaise maiden grew 
 deeper and her dark eyes flashed. 
 
 " Monday, then, is to be the day ! " she said 
 softly. " What did you say, Mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " I said, ' / will pay the price.' ' 
 
 Jeanne de Mousson put out her hand in the dark 
 ness and gave that of her mistress an ardent pres 
 sure. 
 
 " If you had said, the price is too high, my lady, 
 you would have broken " 
 
 " No matter, Jeanne," interrupted Mademoiselle,
 
 314 
 
 hastening on to the refectory ; " the price is cer 
 tainly high, but when we see the blossoms I am 
 sure we shall not regret it. Have you found those 
 glasses yet for the bulbs, Radegonde ? " for the old 
 nun had joined them now. 
 
 " Yes, my lady, and I have set them in the sun 
 shine." 
 
 "When they bloom, sister "but with the 
 
 word the lady broke off, leaving Radegonde much 
 perplexed at the wistful smile on her lips. 
 
 This was on Friday, which was the fourth of 
 February in the year of grace 1572. 
 
 On Monday morning, at an early hour, being the 
 seventh, the Princess de Bourbon, with the demoi 
 selles de Mousson and Vassetz, prepared to start 
 from Jouarre on a long anticipated visit to the 
 cousin of her highness, the abbess of the monastery 
 of the Paraclete, at Nogent-sur-Seine, the ancient 
 shrine of Heloise. With them as escort from the 
 abbey went five men : Loys Lambinot, who had 
 been longest in the convent ; Petit, Parent, Leroy, 
 and Conches. The visit was of uncertain dura 
 tion. It might be for two weeks, it might be for 
 even longer. Mademoiselle de Bourbon was de 
 votedly attached to Madeline de Long-Vic, abbess 
 of the Paraclete, and it had now been a year since 
 they had met. 
 
 Very early that same morning, in the hours be 
 fore she set forth, at the close of the sunrise service 
 of lauds, the young abbess lingered, kneeling in 
 the Sainte Chapelle when all others had left it. 
 
 In her white conventual robe, fastened with a 
 silken cord at her waist, her white veil falling all 
 about her, the lady knelt long on the steps of the 
 choir in the hush and dimness of the place. The 
 first rays of the sun even then began to touch the 
 stained windows into radiance and to cast their 
 gleams of color through the gloom. 
 
 As she knelt, Charlotte de Bourbon bent her
 
 315 
 
 "head even to the stones of the choir steps and 
 pressed them with her lips. Then there was a 
 light step and Jeanne deMousson came to her side. 
 She rose, then held out her hand to Jeanne and 
 whispered low, her lips trembling and tears on her 
 lashes: 
 
 "I am ready, little friend. It must suffice. But, 
 oh, Jeanne ! it is the last time, and, after all, it has 
 been the only home I have ever known. If I only 
 dared weep ! " 
 
 ''You must not, dear lady, indeed," whispered 
 Jeanne anxiously. " Tears would betray every 
 thing. Pere Brodier is even now coming back into 
 the choir." 
 
 Charlotte grew calm at the sight of the priest, 
 whose footfalls were so light that he had nearly 
 reached them quite unheard. 
 
 With a word of greeting the two now passed out 
 by the south transept door, but as Charlotte left 
 the Sainte Chapelle she laid her white hand in a 
 lingering caress on the cold, rough stones of its 
 wall. 
 
 "Adieu," she breathed so low that only the 
 walls heard her. 
 
 Then in her room, with old Radegonde to wait 
 upon her, the Abbess of Jouarre laid aside her white 
 robe and veil for the black traveling habit of her 
 order and the long blue cloak, ermine lined and 
 ermine hooded, which expressed her degree and 
 rank. 
 
 Radegonde, as she served her lady, noted that 
 she trembled, and was of a strange pallor. 
 
 "Dearest lady, are you not well ? " she cried, 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Well ? Oh, yes, quite well, Radegonde. Kiss 
 me. Again. Hold me close, as you did when I was 
 a child. I love you so." 
 
 Amazed at her emotion, the old nun pleaded to 
 know its cause.
 
 3i6 
 
 "It might be," said her lady, "that I should fall 
 into danger on this journey, and not come back to 
 you. The land is full of bands of marauders and 
 wild soldiers who know not how to turn to the pur 
 suits of peace. Who can tell what might befall 
 even on the way to the Paraclete ? One must 
 think of such things. Kiss me once more. How 
 dear and true you are, Radegonde. Pray for me 
 always. Farewell, dear old friend." 
 
 So she ran down the stairway from her hall, 
 casting a glance as she left it at the old Abbess of 
 Jouarre above the fireplace, and Radegonde noted 
 the tremulous, anxious smile that went with the 
 glance. There in the court below were her two 
 Jeannes in their long black nun's cloaks, waiting 
 her coming. 
 
 From the path down to the offices beyond the 
 hall of the abbess came the sound of hoofs on the 
 softened earth, for the mild weather held yet, and 
 up rode the little company of horsemen, and those 
 who came before led each a small, stout-limbed 
 jennet. 
 
 All the nuns had gathered at the gate and with 
 them stood Pere Brodier. To him Mademoiselle 
 said sedately : 
 
 " Guard well the flock while I am gone ; and Sis 
 ter Marie Beauclerc, kindly open all letters which 
 come to the Abbess of Jouarre in my absence. I 
 empower you to act in this matter, knowing you 
 will be faithful." 
 
 So gently was this spoken that even the old nun 
 herself failed to see the touch of gentle irony which 
 underlay the lady's words. Far less did she dream 
 that there was nothing more now for Charlotte de 
 Bourbon to fear from the spies of her entourage. 
 
 Then Mademoiselle kissed all her nuns kindly, 
 with tender words of blessing, for all were dear to 
 her and she so beloved by them that this short ab 
 sence seemed to them an affliction. Her bearing
 
 317 
 
 was firm now and full of spirit, no tears dimming 
 her eyes, but rather were they overbright and a 
 high color burned in her cheeks. ; :| 
 
 As the little procession passed out at length 
 through the gray abbey gateway in the morning 
 sun, the aged porter dropped on his knees murmur 
 ing his blessing, and old Radegonde, watching with 
 weary eyes, caught the last fond look which her 
 adored lady turned to cast behind her. 
 
 And so they galloped on to Montmirail, near 
 thirty miles eastward, the first stage of the journey 
 to the Abbey du Paraclete, at Nogent, but also the 
 first stage of a far different journey. 
 
 At the Auberge de St. Omer in Montmirail, Ma 
 demoiselle and her ladies dismounted and entered a 
 private dining room. The landlady of the inn, over 
 come with delight at the honor of serving the Ab 
 bess of Jouarre, had hardly hastened from the room 
 to prepare a meal worthy of her great visitors when 
 Francois and Georges d'Averly, the Sieurs de Minay, 
 quietly entered and the door was shut. 
 
 Both of these gentlemen bore the air of highest 
 satisfaction mingled with eager solicitude for the 
 welfare of Mademoiselle. 
 
 " Thus far all goes well," said Francois, the elder, 
 Mademoiselle's devout instructor in the Bible and 
 the new faith. " Our Dutch bulbs blossomed fully 
 and in due time. Did the signal give you space to 
 prepare for your departure ? " 
 
 "Quite enough, monsieur," said the lady. "I 
 confess I had had many doubts of the value of so 
 fantastic a signal, but nothing could have been sim 
 pler nor safer. Poor Harlay's complete ignorance 
 of his own mission, and of the significance of the 
 number of his bulbs, ensured success." 
 
 " But you have waited and watched for those 
 same Dutch bulbs, few or many, month after 
 month. Better speed we could not make, but I 
 fear it has seemed long ? "
 
 3 i8 
 
 "Long, indeed, and yet now, all too short," said 
 Mademoiselle with a deep sigh. " 1 had not thought 
 it had been so hard." 
 
 "We had been looking, monsieur," said Jean- 
 nette Vassetz, whose wonted demureness was sud 
 denly transformed into vivacity by the sense of 
 adventure, "for twenty bulbs to come, or even 
 thirty, as each month advanced, and feared a slip 
 in so large a number, and then confusion and all 
 going amiss. But when Harlay said with such em- 
 pressement that his master could send but seven, we 
 felt no further misgiving." 
 
 A lively but brief discussion of the simple cipher 
 employed followed. 
 
 " All your friends are deeply concerned for the 
 success of this present venture," said the Sieur de 
 Minay presently. " Captain Tontorf, who will still 
 be known as Roubichon, if you please, awaits us 
 outside the east gate with five picked German 
 reiters whom the Count of Nassau has sent you 
 from La Rochelle, from his own immediate follow 
 ers. This packet is from Madame d'Albret," and 
 he put a letter into the lady's hand. " The Cheva 
 lier de la Noue and Count Louis send you their 
 most devoted wishes and sincere regrets that it is 
 impossible for them to leave La Rochelle at this 
 juncture. Teligny and his bride wish you good 
 speed and joy. Coligny is at court urging forward 
 the two great reconciling movements, the marriage 
 of the Princess Marguerite with Prince Henri of 
 Navarre and the war in Flanders. The latter pro 
 ject gives the Count of Nassau much of delicate 
 State business at this time, and the other gentle 
 men must needs ride back and forth from the Queen 
 of Navarre to the queen-mother continually in the 
 furtherance of the former." 
 
 " Is Madame d'Albret more favorable to this mar 
 riage for her son than at first ? " asked Charlotte 
 quickly.
 
 "She is yielding, Teligny writes me, to the ar 
 guments of Coligny, albeit ever with a strange, in 
 vincible sadness and reluctance. The admiral as 
 sures her it will be ' the seal of friendship with the 
 king ' and thus make for a sure and stable peace, 
 and Charles himself declares, ' / shall give Margot 
 to my good cousin Henri of Bourbon, since by this 
 means I shall marry not only them but the two relig 
 ions." 1 
 
 "That sounds most hopeful and reasonable," 
 said Charlotte thoughtfully. "How goes forward 
 the other scheme, for the war in Flanders ? " 
 
 " The discussion of it is conducted with utmost 
 secrecy but Count Louis is convinced of the sin 
 cerity and resolution of Charles in the matter. It 
 is safe to trust him to put these promptly to the 
 test, we may be sure. Yes, dear Mademoiselle, 
 the future of our holy cause seems bright with 
 promise. Truly, it is my ardent hope and belief 
 that there will soon be such mutual confidence that 
 you may even return from Heidelberg in all honor 
 and comfort to grace this Navarrese marriage." 
 
 Charlotte, thinking of the bitter wrath which 
 her flight from Jouarre would stir in the mind of 
 her father, shook her head sadly, but Jeanne de 
 Mousson clapped her hands softly with a low laugh 
 of irrepressible delight. 
 
 " To dance at the marriage of my old playmate, 
 Prince Henri, and the Princess Margot ah that 
 would be a very miracle of joy ! " and she snatched 
 the hand of Jeannette Vassetz, who in her quiet way 
 was no less full of excitement, crying, " Oh, Jean 
 nette, Jeannette ! truly we are to be free ! " 
 
 The Sieur de Minay, strict Calvinist as he was, 
 looked with some surprise at the maiden whose 
 Gascon blood was aglow with a gay audacity in 
 strange contrast with her severe and sombre garb 
 and the seriousness of their situation, and Charlotte 
 made haste to ask :
 
 32O 
 
 " And how do you plan to overcome the next 
 difficulties in our way, monsieur ? " 
 
 "The most serious one just before us is the 
 management of your own escort, Mademoiselle. 
 To send them back to Jouarre is plainly impossible, 
 and moreover, we need every man of them. When 
 we leave Montmirail it will no longer be possible 
 to sustain the appearance of journeying to Nogent, 
 as we must strike at once into the Epernay road. 
 The men must, therefore, be at least in part made 
 acquainted with our real destination. Can you 
 trust them ? " 
 
 "I think so, I believe so," said Charlotte with 
 some anxiety ; "at least I could choose none bet 
 ter." 
 
 Dinner being over and the short February after 
 noon well advanced, the whole company again 
 mounted, galloped down the street of the ancient 
 and sleepy little town, and passed through the east 
 gate. 
 
 Here, after a short half-mile, at the point where 
 the road to Epernay diverges from that to the 
 south, they came in sight of Tontorf and his five 
 well-mounted reiters, armed with halberds which 
 glittered in the winter sunshine. 
 
 Tontorf rode back to meet and salute the company 
 and pay his respects to Mademoiselle and her ladies. 
 After a few moments of discussion, the Sieur de 
 Minay, turning to Loys Lambinot and the men 
 who had ridden with him from Jouarre, said : 
 
 " My men, her highness, owing to certain ad 
 vices which we have brought her, finds it wise to 
 delay yet a little her visit to the Paraclete. Our 
 attendance being offered her for a little time she 
 thinks it better to avail herself of so goodly an 
 escort and the fine weather and proceed on her way 
 to Sedan, the residence of Madame la Comtesse de 
 Bouillon, her sister. You will have a longer dis 
 tance to traverse, but the return to Jouarre will
 
 321 
 
 be no later than was purposed. Forward, then, all 
 together. We must sleep in Vertus to-night." 
 
 Then speaking low to Mademoiselle he added : 
 
 " Rheims to-morrow night, Sedan and safety in 
 two days more, if it please God." 
 
 " Rheims," murmured Charlotte; " is it impos 
 sible to avoid that city ? There sits the Cardinal 
 de Lorraine, like a spider in his web. Dear Mon 
 sieur d'Averly, I fear me greatly to go thither ; it 
 is to march straight into the clutches of the en 
 emy." 
 
 " Is your person known to the cardinal or to those 
 of his household ? " 
 
 " Not to himself, but to his niece, the wife of my 
 father, who is not, however, likely to be in Rheims." 
 
 "I beg you, dear madame," it was Tontorf, 
 riding on the other side of the lady, who spoke, 
 " do not let this alarm you. We will enter Rheims 
 after nightfall and leave at daybreak. There need 
 be no cause for alarm." 
 
 This hopeful prophecy seemed justified by events. 
 The company was apparently united and well or 
 ganized, no man murmuring at the longer journey 
 nor showing suspicion regarding the sudden change 
 of plan. The champaign country was safely trav 
 ersed, the Marne crossed at Epernay and, toward 
 dusk of the second day, the famous old city of 
 Rheims, in its wide, arid plain, was reached. 
 
 In a decent but obscure inn just within the city 
 wall, and at a safe remove from the palace of the 
 great Guise cardinal, accommodation was found for 
 Mademoiselle and her company. When she retired 
 to her room Charlotte went to the window, and 
 looked out upon the sleeping, moonlit city, above 
 which rose the airy twin towers of the great cathe 
 dral. 
 
 As she looked, the joyous thrilling clang and 
 clamor of le gros Bourdon filled the air with its thun 
 dering vibrations. 
 
 v
 
 322 
 
 "Jeannette," she said, stepping back involun 
 tarily from the window, " we may be able to escape 
 the cardinal's eyes, but not his voice. Do you 
 know the legend on that bell ? Monsieur Tontorf 
 told me an hour since: 
 
 " ' / am Charlotte, so named by Monseigneur the 
 most illustrious Charles Cardinal of Lorraine, Arch 
 bishop and Duke of Rheims, first Peer of France, and 
 the most illustrious Lady Renee of Lorraine, Abbess of 
 Saint Peter of the said Rheims, his sister. Pierre 
 Deschamps, native of Rheims, made me.' ' 
 
 "I could e'en wish," cried Jeanne de Mousson, 
 looking up at the cathedral towers, "that the said 
 Pierre Deschamps had given you a less uproarious 
 clapper, that so we might have better chance to 
 sleep ! " 
 
 ''How think you, dearest Mademoiselle," asked 
 Jeannette Vassetz anxiously, when silence fell, 
 "shall we really sleep in Sedan at the castle of 
 Mademoiselle's sister on Thursday night with no 
 more fear and dread ? " 
 
 " I believe it, ma petite," was her lady's cheerful 
 answer. " O Franchise ! " she cried with a sud 
 den outburst of joy, "shall I in very truth look 
 in your dear face again so soon ? When once we 
 are safely out of Rheims even such grace will seem 
 possible ! " 
 
 When the morning came it brought a chill and 
 dismal rain. The ladies, however, mounted with 
 good courage and the little cavalcade was speedily 
 set in motion, when to the discomfiture and alarm 
 of all, it was discovered that Loys Lambinot was 
 missing.
 
 XXIX 
 MY LADY'S CLOAK 
 
 A HURRIED council of war was held just out 
 side the eastern gate of Rheims. 
 
 Sharp misgiving smote Norbert as he now 
 for the first time recalled a dim memory of the name 
 of Lambinot as that of the treacherous servant 
 from Jouarre encountered by his father, Nikolaas 
 Tontorf, years before. 
 
 A stern inquiry among the men from Jouarre 
 showed them honestly ignorant of Lambinot's 
 whereabouts and unaware of any treachery in his 
 intention. 
 
 Suspicious circumstances were, however, pro 
 duced by Parent, who stated that when they were 
 dining in the room of the inn, late the previous night, 
 Lambinot had laid him a wager that the Abbess of 
 Jouarre would never return to the convent. He 
 had asked Parent then if he had observed that 
 Mademoiselle had not dismounted to worship at the 
 sacrosanct image of Our Lady nailed to the famous 
 oak tree, as they came through the forest between 
 Epernay and Rheims. 
 
 Parent had paid his own devotions and had not 
 thought it his business to mind what his betters did. 
 No wonder Mademoiselle did not choose to kneel in 
 the mud. 
 
 Lambinot had then further confided to him that 
 from one of the German reiters he had learned that 
 they at least were bound for Heidelberg, not merely 
 Sedan. Whether her ladyship would proceed be 
 yond Sedan was unknown to them, and none of 
 their concern. 
 
 323
 
 324 
 
 At this, so Parent deposed, he had become im 
 patient and told Lambinot that he was the worse 
 for the wine he had taken. What on earth could 
 possess Mademoiselle to go to Heidelberg ? She 
 was more likely to go to Jerusalem. The gossip 
 was too wild to be interesting and he had there 
 with betaken himself to bed in the stable loft, and 
 had supposed Lambinot had done the same. In 
 the morning he failed to appear, and his horse was 
 likewise missing. His cloak, however, he had left 
 behind him. This being a part of his livery as a 
 retainer of the Abbey of Jouarre and bearing its 
 blazon, Norbert himself, for prudential reasons, as 
 sumed in place of his own, borrowing the hat of 
 Parent, to whom he gave in exchange a small furred 
 cap. 
 
 "I will wear your livery to-day, Mademoiselle," 
 he said gallantly, "the better to defend you." 
 
 They were riding slowly eastward, the towers 
 and walls of Rheims looming large through the fog 
 and rain behind them. 
 
 " Then do you apprehend some danger from this 
 desertion of Lambinot, captain ? " asked the Sieur 
 de Minay. 
 
 " I apprehend that the fellow has started to give 
 the alarm of Mademoiselle's departure from Jou 
 arre," replied Norbert, " either to the Due, her 
 father, in Auvergne, or to the Cardinal de Lorraine 
 in Rheims, hoping for reward." 
 
 Startled looks greeted this brief statement. 
 
 "The latter is far the more probable," said 
 Georges d'Averly. " Lambinot could hardly dream 
 of going to Auvergne. He would have no means 
 at his disposal for such a journey." 
 
 " I cannot believe that Lambinot would go him 
 self to the Cardinal de Lorraine," said Mademoi 
 selle. " He would not have the courage nor the 
 audacity. In any case, messieurs, we are safer 
 outside than inside the walls of Rheims. Let us
 
 325 
 
 gallop forward and make up for lost time. It is too 
 Sate to go back ! " 
 
 " Courage ! Bravo ! " cried Tontorf. "Allans! " 
 
 Through the morning hours they rode steadily 
 onward through the pelting rain. 
 
 " I am not afraid of Lambinot nor any of his 
 kind," said Jeanne to Norbert, who rode at noon 
 beside her. "Surely he would not dare attack 
 us." 
 
 " There are those abroad who would," was the 
 reply. 
 
 " But we have still eleven good men and true to 
 defend us," said Jeanne ; " and I can use a pistol 
 myself on a pinch. That I learned to do long since 
 in my girlhood in the mountains of Beam." 
 
 "We will give you one to wear in your belt, 
 mademoiselle," said Norbert, and therewith handed 
 her a small pistol of his own. The girl fastened it 
 into her belt with a bright, spirited smile and nod 
 which set Norbert's heart beating much more ir 
 regularly than had the defection of Lambinot. 
 
 "A nun carrying pistols in her belt!" she ex 
 claimed under her breath. " Praise be to the saints 
 I can soon have done with these stiff and tiresome 
 swathings and the perpetual black gown. I was 
 never meant for a nun, good Captain Roubichon, 
 and I believe I shall be far more pious out of the 
 convent than in it." 
 
 "You have not liked the life ? " asked Norbert 
 gravely, riding a little closer to her side. 
 
 " I have been happy in a way because I loved 
 my lady so dearly. But Madame d'Albret you 
 have seen her ? " 
 
 " Yes, seen her when she stood before the army 
 after Jarnac and offered the soldiers her son and 
 Conde's. I shall never forget the sight of her that 
 day." 
 
 "She must have been magnificent." 
 
 " The men cheered her until it seemed as if they
 
 326 
 
 would split the very heavens. She put new life- 
 and courage into the whole army." 
 
 "She puts new life into every one, and so she- 
 has into me.- She was my dear godmother, and 
 I was almost Protestant ere ever I went to Jouarre, 
 but a wild, romping, light-hearted child, caring lit 
 tle for religion at best. I took the vows only be 
 cause I must and because Mademoiselle was forced 
 to and I could not forsake her," and -Jeanne re 
 counted to Norbert the circumstances of Charlotte's 
 childhood. 
 
 " Mademoiselle's courage and spirit are a marvel 
 after so oppressed and sorrowful a childhood," said 
 Norbert thoughtfully. " Ah, Mademoiselle de Mous- 
 son, if my little sister, my poor Jacqueline, could 
 but win something of her buoyancy and power to 
 throw behind her the memories of the past ! " 
 
 " Jacqueline, is she the little sister of whom 
 monsieur le capitaine has told me ? the sister who 
 was with you in the house of that murderous Anas- 
 tro, in Antwerp ? " 
 
 " The same. She and I alone are left of all our 
 family. I believe there was never a happier house 
 hold than ours. The old home in Middelburg is the 
 one spot on earth that I love, and there are times 
 when, strong man and rough soldier though I am, I 
 could weep for longing to hear once more the 
 chimes of our old minster tower, Lange Jan." 
 
 " What has become of the house of monsieur ? " 
 
 " It belongs to Spain, for Middelburg, I shame to 
 say, still adheres to the government. I hear it is 
 used at present as headquarters for the officers of 
 the Spanish garrison of Walcheren. If I could win 
 it back and once more call it mine, mademoiselle, 
 I could die happy." 
 
 " You love it, then, so much ! But tell me more 
 Df the young sister, Jacqueline." 
 
 " Since that dreadful night when we found the 
 iron chains and the seal of Spain upon our own
 
 327 
 
 coor," said Norbert, with stern sadness, "and 
 learned of the fate of those we loved and honored 
 most on earth, the child has never smiled." 
 
 " Pauvre enfant! " 
 
 " She is now a tall and comely maiden. She has 
 grown up with our aunt in the household of the 
 elector at Heidelberg, my aunt being in personal 
 attendance on the present electress. Her excel 
 lency is a Dutch lady, the widow of our famous 
 Heer of Brederode. The first electress died soon 
 after Jacqueline went to Heidelberg." 
 
 "What if we should see your sister some day ! " 
 
 " You will surely see her if you are at the court 
 of Heidelberg." 
 
 "Madame d'Albret, in her letter to my lady, 
 strongly urges our going thither shortly. She 
 thinks there can be no safety even in Sedan." 
 
 " There is no safety here, so much is sure ! " 
 
 Norbert, who had been riding with the demoiselle 
 de Mousson near the rear of the little procession, 
 had cast his eye ever and anon at a spot of red in 
 the distance behind them. 
 
 This spot, as he now saw, halting and rising in 
 his stirrups to reconnoitre, began to define itself as 
 a company of horsemen, distinguished by the red 
 cloaks of royalist soldiers. 
 
 The country to the east of Rheims was swarming 
 with bands of wild marauders, disbanded soldiers 
 living by blood and plunder. They had passed 
 several such groups during the morning without mo 
 lestation. There was something, however, in the 
 bearing of the men now rapidly approaching which 
 awakened Norbert's suspicion. 
 
 They were now not more than a mile from Ma- 
 chault. At Norbert's order they all put spurs to 
 their horses and broke into a gallop. 
 
 Instantly a bullet from an arquebus whizzed past 
 them, near enough for danger, a sufficient warning. 
 
 Quick as thought, her lips set firmly, a light
 
 328 
 
 flashing in her eyes, Jeanne de Mousson was at the 
 side of her lady. 
 
 " Quick/' she cried, " dearest lady I want your 
 cloak. I need it. Quick, I beg of you ! " 
 
 Confused and mistaking her meaning Charlotte 
 paused to unfasten the long ermine-lined man:le 
 from her shoulders. Jeanne grasped it eager'y, 
 and Mademoiselle found the plain black nun's gar 
 ment of her devoted attendant thrown around her 
 own person. 
 
 " Voild,, Mademoiselle ! " cried the girl, drawing 
 the deep-furred hood over her head. " Is it not 
 becoming ?" 
 
 The Sieur de Minay, who instantly detected the 
 purpose of this maneuver, and who had felt uneasy 
 at the mark of rank and identity furnished by the 
 princely garment, made an exclamation of approval. 
 But there was not an instant for further preparation. 
 The band of nine men, one of whom they now 
 knew for Lambinot, by the familiar black and 
 white livery of Jouarre, were within close range. 
 Their hostile intent was but too manifest. 
 
 Norbert sent the women forward and formed his 
 little company of reiters and servants in a double 
 line of defense. With savage and reckless boldness 
 the attacking party charged them, shouting, " A 
 Guise ! A Guise ! " while the others responded to 
 the cry, " A Bourbon ! A Bourbon ! " 
 
 There was a sharp and desperate encounter, and 
 falling back, Norbert saw to his dismay that two of 
 his reiters lay wounded or worse upon the ground, 
 their horses galloping madly into the woods which 
 lined the road on either side. 
 
 Two of the Red Cloaks had also fallen, however, 
 and the party, somewhat daunted, seemed to pause, 
 irresolute. 
 
 Norbert gave the order to retreat and they were 
 soon in full flight, as he had no desire to risk a 
 second engagement of such peril for Mademoiselle
 
 and her maidens. On they rode, Norbert and the 
 Sieur de Minay holding the rear, facing backward 
 in their saddles, pistols in hand. There was no time 
 to reload their heavier arms. The Red Cloaks had 
 recovered and were now thundering down the road 
 behind them. Escape still appeared possible, for 
 they were the better mounted, when the horse of 
 Jeanne de Mousson becoming unmanageable, Nor 
 bert spurred to her side, and grasped him by the 
 bridle. Then a shot, fired with deliberate aim, 
 struck the animal behind the shoulder, and with a 
 convulsive shudder he fell, Jeanne falling with him, 
 but with almost inconceivable agility springing from 
 her saddle and thus avoiding injury. 
 
 The Sieur de Minay halted. " Forward ! " cried 
 Norbert at the top of his voice. " Forward, as fast 
 as you can. We will overtake you ! " At this order 
 the little company rode off at full speed down the 
 road to Machault. 
 
 The words were scarcely out of Norbert's mouth 
 before the foremost of the pursuing party were 
 upon them. 
 
 Norbert had leaped from his saddle and planted 
 himself squarely in front of Jeanne, who had 
 wrapped her face closely in her hood. 
 
 He noted that an order was given to cease firing. 
 The purpose of the attack was plainly not to kill 
 but to kidnap. Fixing his eye upon Lambinot, 
 easily distinguished by his black livery, Norbert 
 waited until he came within pistol shot, and sent a 
 bullet through his breast. The treacherous varlet 
 fell dead on the instant. 
 
 "What odds?" cried the leader of the band 
 coolly, and on the instant Norbert recognized him 
 as the savage blonde Hessian whom he had once be 
 fore encountered in the Gasthaus %um Hirsch in Co 
 logne. " So much the more for the rest of us. The 
 lady ! The lady ! " 
 
 Norbert, who now wore an abundant beard, had
 
 330 
 
 no fear of being recognized by the Hessian, who 
 had evidently deserted from the prince and turned 
 freebooter. Seeing himself overpowered he had 
 held up his handkerchief in token of surrender, and 
 in another moment his hands were bound to his 
 sides, his weapons taken from him, and he was 
 mounted on the horse of the dead Lambinot. 
 
 " We have gained our point ! We have the lady ! 
 Not a bad little skirmish ! " were the fragments of 
 talk which he overheard among the men whom he 
 saw, to his relief, were not retainers of the great 
 cardinal, as they had heretofore supposed, but a 
 lawless band of freebooters who had doubtless fol 
 lowed Lambinot in hope of a generous reward for 
 intercepting the flight of the Abbess of Jouarre. 
 Hardly less welcome was the discovery that owing 
 to her borrowed cloak Jeanne was safe to pass for 
 Mademoiselle, there being no one left to know to 
 the contrary. Mademoiselle, then, they might hope, 
 would proceed on her way to Sedan without further 
 scathe. 
 
 Norbert's own stern, imperative admonition to 
 the men to treat the Princess de Bourbon with the 
 courtesy befitting her rank was scarcely needed. 
 Plainly the big Hessian, who was called Hugo, was 
 confused by the loss of Lambinot, who was the 
 moving spirit of the party, and somewhat overawed 
 by the magnitude of the consequences of their wild 
 onslaught, and of the danger to themselves if the 
 princess suffered at their hands. Jeanne de Mous- 
 son was accordingly cared for with rude but respect 
 ful deference, and all mounting, they turned back 
 to Rheims at a rapid pace. The high and dauntless 
 spirit of the Gascon girl and the genius of her mer 
 curial temperament were signally shown in the ease 
 with which she assumed the role of the "high and 
 puissant " Lady of Jouarre. That Norbert was to 
 bear the part of steward of the abbey had been 
 fixed between them in one whispered word.
 
 It was nightfall when they came in sight of the 
 city gates. Norbert had decided to use his role of 
 the servant of Mademoiselle to its full value. He 
 succeeded in achieving a rough familiarity with 
 Hugo himself by speaking to him in German, and 
 they rode on side by side in the rear of Jeanne and 
 the others of the band. 
 
 The cathedral towers, soaring up into the mists, 
 admonished him that his time was short, for he per 
 ceived the purpose of Hugo, once arrived in Rheims, 
 to conduct the Abbess of Jouarre immediately to 
 the presence of the Cardinal de Lorraine and claim 
 the reward vouched for by Lambinot. 
 
 Assuming a certain bold and braggadocio air, cal 
 culated to impress the very limited intelligence of 
 the big Hessian, he said : " It was a scurvy trick of 
 Lambinot, rest his soul, not to take me into the 
 secret of this affair. I would have been fast for it. 
 But he wanted the prize for himself, the platter- 
 faced varlet ! I knew a hundred-fold more of her 
 plans," and he made a gesture of his thumb toward 
 Jeanne, "than ever Lambinot dreamed of. If he 
 had let me in I could have managed the thing for 
 you without so much as a pistol shot, and without 
 danger of running your heads under the axe's edge 
 for kidnapping a princess of the blood." 
 
 Hugo, in his blundering, thick-witted fashion, was 
 now beginning to perceive the need of a trifle more 
 finesse than he was possessed of to carry the un 
 dertaking through to success. 
 
 " Is there danger of such business ? " he asked, 
 uneasily. 
 
 " By my halidom, man, I should think a blind 
 mole could see the fix you're in now ! Here you 
 have on your hands the daughter of the proudest 
 peer in France, the Due de Bourbon-Montpensier, 
 whose person you have seized by force and vio 
 lence, without the first shred of proof that she was 
 bound on any other errand than she professed a
 
 332 
 
 visit to her sister, in Sedan. Who is going to vouch 
 for you with the cardinal if he should give you an 
 audience, which is far from probable ? " 
 
 Hugo scratched his head, much puzzled. 
 
 "By Saint Blasius, I am in a trap!" he stam 
 mered. "If I could talk their miserable gabble it 
 might go better. It was a knock-down to lose 
 Lambinot. We knew nothing of the matter save 
 that there was booty in it." 
 
 " If you will share with me," said Norbert, low 
 ering his voice to a confidential whisper, " I will do 
 the business with the cardinal for you. I could 
 give him proof positive that Mademoiselle was run* 
 ning away that nobody else could. I've had 
 chances at many a letter, and I've used them too. 
 I can fix it with his eminence, and we can hand 
 the lady over and divide up. Of course I'll be con* 
 tented with less, as I wasn't in at the first." 
 
 Hugo at once seized this proposition as his last 
 and only hope and, having entered the city, they 
 rode straight to the palace of the dreaded cardinal, 
 the powerful and hated " Tiger of France." That 
 Lambinot had in no way himself communicated 
 with the cardinal, and that his highness had never 
 seen Mademoiselle, Norbert was fortunately as 
 sured. 
 
 The heart of Jeanne de Mousson, brave heart as 
 it was, throbbed violently as she presently found 
 herself passing through the brilliant corridors of the 
 magnificent house, with Norbert in his Jouarre liv 
 ery, on one side, and the tall ruffianly Hessian free 
 booter scowling fiercely and gnawing his mous 
 tache, on the other. The rest of the rough band 
 had been left behind at the outer gate of the palace 
 to await the event. 
 
 Overawed by grandeur such as he had never 
 before witnessed, at the smooth, contemptuous in 
 difference of the servants to whom he sought in 
 vain in his broken French to make known their
 
 333 
 
 errand, Hugo quickly gave over the conduct of this 
 interview into the hands of Norbert. 
 
 "This is your affair, do your best," he cried sul 
 lenly ; "but if I see you trying to turn things or 
 play me false I'll put a bullet through your head as 
 quick as if you were a rabbit." 
 
 Without the slightest doubt of the sincerity of 
 this declaration, Norbert now boldly took the ini 
 tiative. Addressing a page courteously he stated 
 briefly that her highness the Princess Charlotte de 
 Bourbon-Montpensier, Abbess of Jouarre, humbly 
 but urgently requested immediate audience of his 
 eminence, being in severe straits. The page re 
 ceived this request with great respect, and as a 
 consequence, the three ill-assorted companions 
 found themselves in short order admitted to the 
 ante-chamber of Charles de Lorraine. 
 
 As he followed her into the apartment Norbert 
 had an instant in which to whisper in Jeanne's ear : 
 
 " You, ^Abbess of Jouarre, on your way to Sedan to 
 visit your sister, have been foully abducted by this 
 miscreant for ransom; protest your indignation, claim 
 protection! " 
 
 Jeanne put her hand into the bosom of her dress. 
 Yes, it was there ! She had taken into her keep 
 ing that morning a small bag of her lady's jewels. 
 Among them was the abbatial ring which Mademoi 
 selle had taken from her finger as soon as she left 
 Jouarre. Jeanne slipped it quickly upon her own 
 forefinger. Then a door was thrown open, and 
 lifting her eyes she saw before her a prelate of 
 imposing figure and singularly handsome face, 
 clothed from throat to feet in a cassock of brillant 
 scarlet silk, and bearing on his head a berettina 
 of the same color, and around his neck a thick gold 
 chain from which depended a large and exquisite 
 crucifix. 
 
 Jeanne, the two men kneeling at a distance be 
 hind her, dropped trembling but self-possessed upon
 
 3*4 
 
 her knee and kissed the hand of the great cardinal, 
 craving his blessing. The rich ermine mantle fall 
 ing around her delicate, gradnise figure, the rigid 
 conventual garb, the striking distinction and beauty 
 of her person, and the sweetness of her voice dis 
 armed any suspicion on the part of the prelate, and 
 he pronounced a brief blessing, eying Norbert and 
 Hugo with cold suspicion. 
 
 "I beg your eminence to intervene and save 
 your daughter in Christ, me, Charlotte de Bourbon, 
 Abbess of Jouarre, from yonder ruffian," she whis 
 pered imploringly. ** Will you graciously call my 
 steward hither and let him recount our horrible ad 
 venture? In truth, holy father, 1 am too ex 
 hausted for much speaking." 
 
 With these words and an air of extreme weari 
 ness and agitation Jeanne de Mousson rose and by 
 a nod the cardinal beckoned Norbert forward, at 
 the same time touching a jeweled bell on his table 
 and giving a command in an inaudible voice to an 
 attendant. 
 
 " Your lady speaks, sir steward, of a horrible ad 
 venture. What is It ? Say on." 
 
 Speaking very low and very rapidly in French, 
 not one word of Norbert's was intelligible to Hugo, 
 who as he stood grew more and more bedazzled 
 with the sense that he was out of his proper ele 
 ment and knew not what unexpected outcome this 
 adventure would yet take. He saw himself, how 
 ever, completely in Norbert's hands. 
 
 " Monseigneur," said Norbert, "my lady, the 
 exalted and most noble Princess of Bourbon, Ab 
 bess of Jouarre," and he bowed profoundly to 
 Jeanne, who folded her hands calmly before her, 
 the official ring full in view, looking as she lifted 
 her charming head with languid grace, every inch 
 a princess, " was on her way to visit her illustrious 
 sister, Madame the Duchesse de Bouillon, in Sedan, 
 taking with her a sufficient escort, and certain of her
 
 335 
 
 household, such as myself. One of our number, 
 an unspeakable scoundrel and traitor, named Lam- 
 binot, deserted our company this morning, having 
 conceived the infamous plot of betraying her high 
 ness into the hands of a band of border freeboot 
 ers. Of these, the man you see yonder is the 
 head. The rest are now waiting at the palace 
 gate. Their purpose is to hold my lady for ran 
 som ; and of this, Lambinot looked to swallow up 
 the lion's share. 
 
 " In the affray which followed the attack of these 
 ruffians we both lost men, and on their side Lam 
 binot himself fell. We were, however, worsted, 
 and her highness was captured as you see, upon 
 which the residue of our escort put spurs to their 
 horses and escaped. I defended my lady to the 
 utmost of my power, my lord, believe me, but I 
 was overpowered," and Norbert's voice trembled 
 with apparent fear lest his faithfulness as a servant 
 might be called in question. 
 
 " Yes, yes, my good fellow," said the cardinal 
 with careless condescension, " the amazing thing 
 is, how you got yonder villainous-looking knave in 
 hither. In sooth I greatly mislike his looks." 
 
 The cardinal's characteristic timorousness made 
 him vastly uneasy as he kept his eyes on Hugo's 
 dark and threatening face. 
 
 " I cajoled his ignorance, monseigneur, into be 
 lieving that your eminence would willingly pay 
 him a ransom on the spot for the recovery of the 
 stepdaughter of Madame de Montpensier, your 
 niece." 
 
 " Ah, that was adroit of you, my friend." 
 
 Without stepping nearer the cardinal raised his 
 voice, and addressing Hugo asked with a slight 
 smile, and speaking in German : 
 
 " Was it you, my man, who made this capture ? " 
 
 Hugo nodded emphatically and his eyes shone 
 gaunt and avidious.
 
 336 
 
 "Yes, I, my lord." 
 
 " Who is this lady ? " and the cardinal indicated 
 Jeanne with a sweep of his white and jeweled hand. 
 " Were you aware of her title and rank ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes, my lord. The Princess of Bourbon, 
 the Abbess of Jouarre." 
 
 The cardinal shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "Self-convicted," he murmured, and again 
 touched the bell, this time very lightly. 
 
 On the stroke six halberdiers entered the room 
 by a door behind Hugo, and before he knew of their 
 presence he was overpowered, bound, and dragged 
 from the room. 
 
 "Bah," said the cardinal. "I breathe freer! 
 He was a man by his countenance who would mur 
 der you any day for his dinner. Moreover, he smelt 
 vilely of the stables. Madame, 1 congratulate you 
 on escaping from such company." 
 
 With color and vivacity and confidence return 
 ing, Jeanne expressed her gratitude for her de 
 liverance in a manner which the cardinal, who was 
 a keen judge and admirer of feminine charms, 
 found singularly captivating. He was furthermore 
 extremely glad to have a chance for personal ac 
 quaintance with the distinguished and possibly 
 heretical Abbess of Jouarre, whom he had fancied 
 as of a very different strain. 
 
 "You are over young, and I might add over pretty, 
 Mademoiselle, to make a proper abbess," he said 
 with impressive gallantry ; " and truth to tell, we 
 hear that you are not so rigid in your rule as might 
 be. How about these rumors which reach us that 
 the daughter of my good friend, Montpensier, gives 
 place to heretics and harbors and listens to the 
 enemies of Holy Church ? Now we have you, my 
 charming child, at our mercy, we must e'en apply 
 the questions which comport with sound discipline," 
 and the prelate bent upon Jeanne a look curiously 
 mingled of caressing flattery and stern suspicion.
 
 337 
 
 " Ah, but monseigneur," said the girl, with naive 
 and bewitching coquetry, " I fear me much that I 
 am too young for so great a charge ; and then pity us 
 poor sisters think of us, with armies all about us, 
 war on every side ! What can we do ? We have 
 no one to defend us. One day we must feed 
 Huguenots and the next our own friends, or be at 
 the mercy of both. Pardon our little delinquencies 
 this time. We promise to give no cause for your 
 reproof in the future, oh never, never again ! " 
 
 The shy, beseeching glance under Jeanne's long 
 lashes with which these words were spoken, had 
 its full effect upon the amorous cardinal. It would 
 come not amiss, he reflected, in the tedium of his 
 present retirement here at Rheims to have this 
 charming spiritual ward for a while as a guest of his 
 house. His niece, her stepmother, was even now 
 present on a visit, and would furnish all due chaper- 
 onage. He would keep the dainty little abbess as a 
 kind of prisonnttre sur parole until he was assured 
 of her Catholicity, and a few hours spent daily in 
 the light of such glances would be a welcome recre 
 ation. 
 
 His cold yet passionate eyes, the lids drawn nar 
 rowly, now scanned the face and figure of the 
 young Benedictine with an eagerness which he 
 was too arrogant to seek to disguise. Startled by 
 something which caught his glance, he exclaimed : 
 
 " But what is this ? Madame 1'Abbesse carries 
 a pistol at her belt ! " and he pointed his forefinger 
 at the weapon with which Jeanne had been fur 
 nished by Norbert. 
 
 " In truth, your eminence, in the wild encounter 
 through which we have just passed I had need 
 enough for arms," she murmured in some con 
 fusion. 
 
 " What should a maiden like you, bred in a con 
 vent from her cradle, know of the use of arms ? " 
 rejoined the cardinal incredulously. "You could 
 
 w
 
 338 
 
 not hit a man though he stood an arm's length 
 before you. That is no toy for you, Mademoiselle," 
 and with these words he quietly drew the pistol 
 with his own hand from her belt and laid it on the 
 table at his side, his eyes resting upon hers the 
 while. 
 
 The blood mounted scarlet, then, to Jeanne's 
 cheeks and her eyes flashed fire, for in both glance 
 and action lurked a subtle significance which she 
 could not miss. 
 
 " I could at least make shift to aim it at my own 
 breast, monseigneur, if need were," she said coldly 
 and with a fearless hauteur which thrilled the heart 
 of Tontorf as he stood mute and apart perforce with 
 a very passion of sympathetic admiration, despite 
 the danger which her daring might involve. 
 
 Charles de Lorraine, however, plainly found his 
 new protegee but the more piquant for her defiance. 
 A smile, soothing yet implacable, played around 
 his handsome mouth, a smile which frightened 
 Jeanne de Mousson far more than a frown would 
 have done. 
 
 " Very good ; Mademoiselle has courage," he said 
 carelessly, but the note of command was unmis 
 takable as he continued : " happily, however, such 
 conjunctures are now overpast. We shall have 
 time presently to admonish the fair Abbess of 
 Jouarre for her lack of prudence in this dangerous 
 journey, as also to search somewhat narrowly any 
 weakness of faith such as has been alleged against 
 her. You will remain under our roof for a season 
 and I shall expect you to promise me," he added 
 graciously, " when you are again at Jouarre, Made 
 moiselle, to follow in all respects the teaching of 
 what is his name ? that abbe I sent to Meaux for 
 you the other day ? ' ' 
 
 " Pere Brodier," said Jeanne. "Ah, monseign 
 eur, we like him not so very well. Have you not 
 a more agreeable confessor for us ? "
 
 339 
 
 The cardinal laughed. , 
 
 " Ha, ha ! Brodier is rather a dull fellow, I admit. 
 Perhaps we will look into the matter. And now, 
 Mademoiselle is tired with these untoward adven 
 tures. Are you aware that Madame de Montpensier 
 is here ? " 
 
 Jeanne's color fled. Was recognition, after all, 
 inevitable? 
 
 " No, monseigneur. Is it so ? " 
 
 "She is at present in the extreme wing of the 
 palace, occupied by my sister, the sup'erieure of St. 
 Peter's. How if 1 send you at once thither ? The 
 ladies will be careful that you have all fitting at 
 tendance and comfort." 
 
 " Thanks, monseigneur. May my steward ac 
 company me ? " 
 
 "Surely, surely, my daughter." 
 
 Dismissing her with an almost affectionate bene 
 diction, the cardinal now summoned an attendant 
 to whom he gave direction to conduct the Princess 
 de Bourbon to the presence of her stepmother, Cath 
 erine of Lorraine. Jeanne, with Norbert, followed 
 the servant from the room and down a flight of 
 stairs to the ground floor of the palace. 
 
 To both of them it seemed that the most ominous 
 crisis of their adventure was now just before them. 
 The first sight of the Duchesse de Montpensier, who 
 had been recently herself at Jouarre, would betray 
 the whole situation, and, worst of all, might yet in 
 volve most serious consequences to Jeanne's be 
 loved lady. As they went on Norbert's eyes turned 
 swiftly from side to side, on the alert for a means 
 of yet evading this most to be dreaded encounter. 
 
 At the main approach to the palace the band of 
 men was still waiting for them. Escape must be 
 by a different entrance if at all. 
 
 They had entered now a long, dimly lighted cor 
 ridor, having a row of low casement windows open 
 ing upon a garden or inner court, dark and deserted.
 
 340 
 
 This might offer one last, desperate chance. As 
 they passed these casements, Norbert exclaimed : 
 
 " Your highness, your ring ! Do you remember, 
 you removed it to show its design to monseigneur ? 
 You left it, I fear, behind you." 
 
 Quick as lightning in her perceptions, and quicker 
 now than ever, since every sense was stimulated 
 by terror, Jeanne, swiftly removing her ring which 
 she concealed in her left hand, held up her right, 
 exclaiming : 
 
 "You are right. It is gone. I have either lost 
 it, or left it behind." 
 
 They had stopped now. Turning to the attend 
 ant, Jeanne, in her sweetest manner and with her 
 most winning smile, said : 
 
 "Ah, my good friend, will you be so kind as to 
 return and seek my ring, my large ring of office ? 
 But if you fail, by no means disturb his eminence in 
 the matter. We will meanwhile move slowly for 
 ward." 
 
 With no faintest suspicion, the servant darted 
 back to do her bidding. 
 
 The instant he turned the corner of the corridor 
 Norbert had forced a casement open and they were 
 in the open air, the casement softly closing behind 
 them. 
 
 A moment later he and Jeanne de Mousson, having 
 fled through the dark garden and emerged without 
 challenge of the guard from it by an open gateway, 
 found themselves alone and free in the streets of 
 Rheims, le gros Bourdon thundering over their heads 
 the hour of seven.
 
 XXX 
 
 SHORT WOOING 
 
 " \/ES, I can help you, and I will to the extent of 
 Y my power ; but you must obey me absolutely 
 in one particular or I can do nothing." 
 
 Thus spoke Maltre Chaudon, the Huguenot pas 
 tor of Rheims, to Jeanne de Mousson and Norbert, 
 standing before him in his own study one half-hour 
 later. They had reached this place of refuge in 
 safety by Norbert's lucky memory of the house in 
 the Rue de Tambour, which he had visited with 
 Louis of Nassau. Their story was already told, 
 their imminent peril manifest. 
 
 " And what is that condition, monsieur ? " asked 
 Norbert, cheered by the strong promise of aid in the 
 Huguenot's first words, but something chilled by 
 the sternness and severity of those which followed. 
 
 " Is there any impediment on the part of either of 
 you to marriage ? " 
 
 With unspeakable amazement they both replied 
 in the negative. 
 
 " As 1 supposed. That is very well. I will pro 
 vide you with a change of garments, with horses 
 and with a shelter outside the gates of Rheims for 
 the night, in fine, with all possible means of escape, 
 on the one condition that your marriage take place 
 here and now, within the next fifteen minutes." 
 
 From both young faces the color fled, and then 
 rushed back in deep mantling blushes. Jeanne 
 trembled violently while Norbert drew back, con 
 fused by so startling a proposition, and yet seeing 
 the wisdom of it as Maitre Chaudon now said more 
 gently :
 
 342 
 
 "With all confidence in the honor and virtue of 
 you both I yet cannot in justice to your own good 
 name and the fair fame of that noble lady whom 
 Mademoiselle de Mousson represents, give my sanc 
 tion to your wandering & deux around the country 
 in this wild fashion except you go as man and 
 wife." 
 
 Norbert hesitated no longer. Offering his hand 
 to Jeanne he led her into an alcove at a slight dis 
 tance and said in a low voice : 
 
 " Mademoiselle, every moment counts. The 
 pastor is right, I believe, on my honor, but it must 
 be short wooing. 1 offer you my heart and hand, 
 an' you will have me, to serve you in all faith and 
 fidelity while I live." 
 
 Then Jeanne lifted her eyes and looked straight 
 way into his and said with a cold though gentle 
 little smile : 
 
 " Sir, I will, if I may, take the protection of your 
 name this night, and will hold myself in so far 
 your chosen and lawful wife that no other can ever 
 claim my heart. But I too must make a condition." 
 
 " Mademoiselle has but to name it," said Nor 
 bert bowing with ceremonious courtesy. 
 
 "My love and duty belong first of all to my 
 lady. Will you promise me that until she bids you 
 so to do you will never claim me as your wife nor 
 bear yourself toward me as a husband ? " and her 
 eyes fell and her voice faltered for all her high 
 spirit. 
 
 " I promise on my honor as a soldier and a Chris 
 tian," said Norbert solemnly. 
 
 Then Jeanne laid her hand in his and the look in 
 his face of purpose high and pure sent the blood 
 bounding through her veins with mysterious joy. 
 
 The daughter of Maitre Chaudon, who had been 
 in the room throughout this brief interview, now 
 led Jeanne into an adjoining apartment and assisted 
 her to lay aside the coif and wimple and all other
 
 343 
 
 articles of conventual costume. Around her shoul 
 ders she tied a white lace scarf over the plain 
 black robe and thus attired, with a pale, serious 
 face, Jeanne presented herself again before Maitre 
 Chaudon. 
 
 Fixing his eyes upon her the pastor said : " Do 
 you, Jeanne de Mousson, solemnly declare that you 
 have now of your own free will and with true re 
 ligious conviction laid aside your habit and your 
 vows as a nun of the Order of St. Benedict ? " 
 
 "I do." 
 
 Maitre Chaudon then pronounced the irrevocable 
 words which made of these two man and wife, and 
 the wedding being brief as the wooing, Jeanne was 
 presently again given into the hands of Maitre Chau- 
 don's daughter. For the next matter in hand was to 
 furnish the pair with adequate disguise and so hasten 
 their departure within the hour from the city where 
 could be no safety for them when once the Cardinal 
 de Lorraine awoke to find himself outwitted, which 
 might be soon or late. 
 
 So, a half-hour later the bride and bridegroom 
 met again and neither knew the other at first glance. 
 The nun had disappeared forever, and in her place 
 now appeared a peasant lad, for Jeanne's hair had 
 been cut straight and square across her forehead 
 and below her ears. Upon her head sat jauntily a 
 small green cap. She wore a well-worn leather 
 jerkin and wide fustian breeches, coarse knit stock 
 ings and wooden sabots, and looked to admiration, 
 with a basket of tools on her shoulder, the vine 
 dresser's boy for whom she was to pass. Norbert 
 was similarly arrayed, but his beard was shaven, 
 his face stained to a dull brown hue, and his body 
 bent well forward under the weight of a much 
 larger basket, from which protruded picks and 
 shovels. 
 
 Maitre Chaudon faced the two and his counte 
 nance relaxed its gravity.
 
 344 
 
 "I have married many a pair," he said, "gentle 
 and simple, but this is without doubt the motleyest 
 bridal party that ever left my door. The Cardinal 
 de Lorraine would hardly recognize the Abbess of 
 Jouarre in this gentle knave. Listen to me now. 
 You will have no difficulty in making your way out 
 of the city by the gate for foot passengers if you 
 start at once. Do not go to the east, but take the 
 north gate and proceed on the road to Guignicourt 
 for a mile. Turn then to the right where the stone 
 crucifix stands at a parting of the ways and follow 
 the path until you come at the vineyard's edge to a 
 small hut of the vine-dressers, which you will find 
 empty. Here you must keep yourselves in hiding 
 until dawn, when two horses will be brought you 
 by two of our own trusty Huguenots. Ride, then, 
 as fast as you may to Rethel. There you will find 
 a considerable band of the troops that came into 
 France with John Casimir. They are about leav 
 ing for the Palatinate and if you present this letter 
 to their leader, a true and worthy officer, he will 
 give you safe-conduct speedily to Sedan." 
 
 " Then shall we surely be in time to warn my 
 lady not to linger in Sedan ? " asked Jeanne. 
 " In truth I am greatly fearful lest her safety may 
 be threatened when once the cardinal finds that 
 there has been a trick." 
 
 " It will take the cardinal a day or two, madame," 
 said Maitre Chaudon, "to unravel this very com 
 plicated web which you have woven for him. I 
 have no doubt you will reach Sedan in good sea 
 son to hasten your lady's journey to Heidelberg. 
 Doubtless there should be no delay in this. 
 
 " Now farewell. In the basket of Aladame Ton- 
 torf," at which Jeanne grew rosy red, "there is a 
 thick, warm blanket, food, and wine. Be of good 
 courage and may God speed you on your strange 
 wedding journey." 
 
 A moment later Jeanne and Norbert were on the
 
 345 
 
 street, and bending under their burdens, which were, 
 however, in reality of little weight, they plodded on 
 to the northern gate of Rheims. 
 
 There was no evidence of the excitement or con 
 fusion of an alarm or search in the streets through 
 which they passed and they ventured to infer that 
 the companions of Hugo had scattered in disgust, 
 and that the cardinal was still unaware of the ruse 
 of which he had been made the victim. 
 
 Passing the gate without notice the pair were 
 soon swinging at a good pace along the hard white 
 wintry road, bleak fields and woods lying cold on 
 either side under the pale starlight, the silence of 
 night reigning all about them. 
 
 Then when they reached the wayside hut, drear 
 and dark and deserted, Norbert entered first, and 
 finding all safe made shift to pile a little straw in a 
 corner and calling Jeanne, said gently, as she stood 
 in the doorway of the poor place : 
 
 " Dear lady, it grieves me that I can do no better 
 than to offer you such cold comfort. Wrap you 
 well in the blanket which your basket holds and 
 sleep if you can while I without hold guard with 
 God and all good angels till dawning. Good-night," 
 and with this he closed the door and all through the 
 hours till morning, armed and alert, he paced the 
 frozen field before that forlorn cabin, and yet he 
 found the hours not too long. 
 
 Then in the morning, through the chill and gloom 
 of the daybreak came two mounted men who 
 stopped not to parley, but dismounting before the 
 hut gave over their horses to Norbert and turned 
 swiftly back on foot the way they came. The 
 sound of hoofs brought Jeanne to the door, and 
 Norbert thought, for all her quaint, disfiguring dis 
 guise, he had never seen her eyes clearer nor her 
 smile so softly bright. He lifted her to her saddle, 
 and her little hand rested on his shoulder a thought 
 longer than was needful and she said ruefully :
 
 346 
 
 " Monsieur has not slept. It was too bad." 
 
 "A man does not sleep, madame," said Nor- 
 bert leaping into his saddle and trotting after 
 her out from the field into the high road, " when 
 he has to guard his most precious treasure." 
 
 This made the demoiselle very thoughtful for 
 some minutes, but when she spoke it was to say 
 timidly: 
 
 " I think it is a bad practice for Monsieur Roubi- 
 chon to address me as ' madame,' since we wish to 
 keep our secret most carefully." 
 
 " Very well," said Norbert, smiling over at her, 
 "but I must beg you to remember that I am no 
 Frenchman and we can now drop the Roubichon. 
 Remember that every drop of blood in my body is 
 Dutch, and my name, such as it is, is yours." 
 
 All day they rode onward, but the wearier the 
 way the blither grew Jeanne's spirits. A certain 
 undercurrent of reserve and hauteur kept Norbert 
 ever at a safe distance, but over this played an arch 
 and irresistible coquetry as natural to the girl as its 
 song to a bird. Snatches of song, gay laughter and 
 merry nonsense brightened the anxious hours and 
 the bleak rigor of the day. 
 
 "Tell me, tell me, am I fair?" 
 
 Jeanne sang the old Champenoise virelay with 
 ripples of musical laughter : 
 
 " Does my mirror show me true? 
 Sweet of face and cropped of hair, 
 
 Tell me is that so to you ? 
 Tell me, tell me, am I fair? " 
 
 With the challenge came a glance of arch and 
 mocking merriment from under the dark, short elf- 
 locks which set Norbert himself to laughing in spite 
 of his grave anxiety for their perilous journey. But 
 no sooner had she succeeded in bringing him thus 
 to suit her mood than the Gascon maiden with one
 
 347 
 
 of her swift and irresistible transitions fell to sing 
 ing another strophe with gentle, pensive appeal : 
 
 " If my lover gentle prove, 
 
 Knightly, brave, and true to love, 
 Slave and servant will I be, 
 Tell me, tell me, am I true? " 
 
 Half angered with himself that this unclaimed bride 
 of his could thus play upon him and control his 
 emotions, with a pair of eyes and an old, old song, 
 Norbert found the tears nevertheless springing to his 
 own eyes in response to the demure sweetness of 
 the shyly lifted lids and the pathetic wistfulness of 
 the beautiful mouth. 
 
 " What are you, mademoiselle ?" he cried storm- 
 ily, " elf or sprite or Christian maiden ? In sooth, 
 for a plain Dutchman like myself you are a riddle." 
 
 " Maitre Chaudon said I was Madame Tontorf," 
 said Jeanne with a pensive little shake of her head. 
 
 " He had some reason so to say, I believe," said 
 Norbert quickly. 
 
 " Ah no, monsieur le capitaine, no, no ! Maitre 
 Chaudon is a very good man, but he told a very 
 great falsehood. Not Madame Tontorf, never that 
 until my lady of her own free will shall bid me be. 
 Remember your promise." 
 
 In silence they rode on toward Rethel.
 
 XXXI 
 
 AWAKE AT LAST 
 
 THE year 1572 in its dawning brought every- 
 i where a mysterious quickening to the hearts 
 of men. Passionate pulsations of the new 
 and larger hope of liberty beat and surged through 
 whole nations. 
 
 In that spring the castle of Dillenburg in the 
 lonely Westerwald became for a time the nerve- 
 center of the Protestant movement in Europe. 
 
 With superb rebound William of Nassau had 
 emerged from the oblivion into which he had been 
 forced by political and military defeat and by the 
 disgrace of his wife's dishonor. Again his profound 
 capacity for great combinations and bold yet states 
 manlike measures was at work. 
 
 The great immediate purpose to which all his 
 energies were now directed was the alliance of the 
 French with the Netherlands patriots for the war 
 with Spain. Coligny and Count Louis together had 
 pressed the project forward and everything now 
 pointed to swift success. 
 
 In his remote fastness the prince sent couriers 
 incessantly flying over all Europe, communicated 
 daily with kings and queens, levied troops, issued 
 letters of marque to the rude navy known as Beg 
 gars of the Sea, and sent his messengers into every 
 corner of the Netherlands to gather funds with 
 which to inaugurate a new war of independence. 
 
 On an early April morning the prince entered the 
 
 small room overlooking the wooded hills to the 
 
 northwest of the castle, which was for the time 
 
 being his cabinet. Brunynck, his secretary, sat 
 
 348
 
 349 
 
 waiting with a pile of letters and dispatches heaped 
 high on the table before him. 
 
 Before the prince could take his seat there was a 
 volley of light knocks on the door and in poured 
 the pretty troop of his motherless and worse than 
 motherless children, the golden-haired five-year- 
 old Maurice leading the line. All had their hands 
 full of blossoms of the yellow gorse, with white and 
 rosy hawthorn, and were full of sweet affectionate 
 joyance as they gave their father morning greeting. 
 
 The prince received the little embassy with ten- 
 derest fatherliness, and with that peculiar yearn 
 ing wistfulness often seen in men who have to fill 
 the place of both father and mother. 
 
 Leaving their treasures of gorse and hawthorn to 
 light up the gloomy little cabinet the children fol 
 lowed the beckoning hand of the gentle elder sister, 
 Marie, and as they closed the door the prince, 
 without haste but without waste of a second's time 
 turned to his secretary. 
 
 " Wohlan! Brunynck, what is first ? " 
 
 " A courier from the Elector of Saxony, your 
 highness, has brought this letter and awaits your 
 reply." 
 
 The prince swiftly scanned the letter handed 
 him. His face grew stern, and the traces of the 
 tenderness with which he had just now welcomed 
 his children were lost in the deep lines which re 
 membered agony seemed suddenly to cut afresh in 
 his face. 
 
 He laid the letter down and taking his pen wrote 
 a reply which he then handed to Brunynck to 
 copy. The letter said in answer to the proposition 
 contained in that of the elector, uncle and guard 
 ian of Anne of Saxony : " Regarding her, who was 
 formerly my wife, it is but just that her relatives 
 shall now assume the care and responsibility for 
 her. You can do with her as you will. To me she 
 is dead."
 
 350 
 
 Down in Beilstein in rage and madness the un 
 happy Anne of Saxony was even then foaming out 
 her bitterness and wearing out her wretched life, 
 while in a cell of the remote Dillenburg dungeon 
 lay the miserable partner of her guilt, Jan Rubens. 
 His life by the law of the land was forfeit by his 
 confessed crime, but the magnanimity of the man 
 against whom that crime had been committed had 
 remitted his sentence to imprisonment. To the 
 world outside the whole affair was wrapped in im 
 penetrable silence and mystery. 
 
 An hour passed during which the prince had 
 dictated half a dozen dispatches and written several 
 letters with that matchless faculty of swift and 
 facile composition which never forsook him. From 
 camp or court, from palace or cottage, from hall or 
 hiding, wherever the fortunes of Orange led him, 
 flowed forth those numberless letters with which 
 he led his people, wrought out their deliverance, 
 out of weakness made them strong, defied their 
 enemies and put to flight the armies of the aliens. 
 
 The handwriting was like the man ; firm, flexi 
 ble, sensitive, essentially high-bred, the states 
 man's, the scholar's hand rather than the soldier's. 
 
 Then through the open window from far below 
 there came a clear loud blast upon a bugle ringing 
 through the air and echoing and re-echoing from 
 the castle walls and the steep hills surrounding. 
 
 The prince started to his feet. 
 
 " That may be a courier from the Netherlands ! " 
 he said, " or it may be from Coligny ! " 
 
 Hastening down the hill he paused under the 
 majestic linden tree, half-way down the descent, 
 for by the sound of his horse's hoofs, the messen 
 ger, whoever he might be, was fast approaching. 
 Another instant and Norbert Tontorf leaped from 
 his saddle and threw himself upon his knee before 
 the prince. 
 
 "Great news, my lord !" he cried, and again
 
 with irrepressible enthusiasm, as he rose, he put 
 his bugle to his lips and blew a pealing clarion note. 
 Turning to the prince he cried : 
 
 "My lord, at last the Netherlands are awake! 
 They are on fire ! Brill is captured by de Lumey 
 and his men ! Hurrah for the Beggars of the Sea ! " 
 
 The prince listened to Norbert's impassioned out* 
 burst with intense eagerness, but his first response 
 showed anxiety rather than exultation. 
 
 " This may imperil our whole enterprise. I fear 
 me greatly the Beggars have cut another of their 
 mad capers which have already brought so much 
 discredit to our cause and against which Coligny 
 'has so urgently warned me." 
 
 "It may be a mad caper, your highness," said 
 Norbert, undaunted, "but the success of it has 
 awakened our people at last from their sleep. The 
 whole population of Voorn have taken the oath of 
 allegiance to your highness as Stadtholder and all 
 Holland and Zeeland are ready to follow." 
 
 " But is this news trustworthy ? " asked the 
 prince quickly; "how came you by it, since you 
 are on your way hither from France direct ? " 
 
 " From a courier, my lord, sent straight from 
 Treslong himself with a message to give by word 
 of mouth, as they dared put nothing in writing. 
 The man had ridden his horse to death and himself 
 near unto it. I met him below in the village and 
 he begged me to convey his message to your high 
 ness. You can rely upon it. All the people now 
 ask is that the Prince of Orange will lead them. 
 The tenth penny has struck the slowest hearts and 
 the most selfish to revolt, and I believe the time is 
 ripe for victory." 
 
 "Tontorf," said the prince, clasping both the 
 young soldier's hands, while his eyes glistened with 
 quick emotion, "if my people are ready they will 
 not wait in vain ! May God speed the cause and 
 let the oppressed go free ! "
 
 352 
 
 With this they turned and walked together to the 
 castle. 
 
 There was thanksgiving and praise in the ancient 
 hall of Dillenburg that day, and the whole princely 
 household, from the white-haired lady mother to 
 the tiny Emilia, latest born daughter to the prince, 
 gathered at a joyful feast in the stately banqueting 
 chamber. But no commoner in the land was more 
 simply served than was that noble company, for 
 pewter and common earthenware vessels had long 
 since taken the place on that table of the gold and 
 silver plate, the rare and royal service of earlier 
 days. Shorn of every vestige of outward magnifi 
 cence for the sake of the holy cause, in the hearts 
 of those patriots the inner glory burned but the 
 brighter. 
 
 In the evening Norbert was again alone with the 
 prince, and together they paced the terrace over 
 looking the village, in the sweet spring air. 
 
 " You have brought me great tidings from Nether 
 lands, and a good word from Louis in Blois and 
 from Coligny, but I have yet to hear of your other 
 adventure. How fared it with your expedition from 
 La Brie, Tontorf ? " 
 
 "Well, my lord." 
 
 " I know from the elector that Mademoiselle de 
 Bourbon is safely in Heidelberg. I had supposed 
 that she would remain with her sister in Sedan." 
 
 "No, my lord. The Cardinal de Lorraine was 
 over-near her there for safety, and she remained 
 with madame la Duchesse but two days." 
 
 " Tell me, if you will, the whole story," said the 
 prince, his quiet manner scarcely veiling a very 
 vivid interest in the subject. 
 
 " We had a little encounter with a band of free 
 booters soon after we left Rheims, and two of us 
 fell into their hands, while the rest, with Mademoi 
 selle, proceeded safely without injury to Sedan, 
 which they reached the second night thereafter,
 
 353 
 
 and we a day later, having made a detour by 
 Rethel." As to the personality of his companion 
 in this incident Norbert chose to say nothing unless 
 questioned. 
 
 " A band of twenty of Casimir's reiters, who came 
 with us from Rethel, gave Mademoiselle her escort 
 from Sedan to the borders of the Palatinate, Made 
 moiselle sending her servants back to Jouarre." 
 
 " Do you know how the tidings of her flight was 
 received there ? " 
 
 " With deepest grief and consternation, my lord. 
 Far otherwise was it received by her father." 
 
 " Ah, surely, you went to Montpensier yourself. 
 The elector wrote me that finding you well qualified 
 for the adjustment of delicate matters he had taken 
 the liberty of retaining you in the interests of 
 Mademoiselle, and of dispatching you almost im 
 mediately after your arrival back to France." 
 
 " Yes, I remained but a few days in Heidelberg, 
 long enough, however, to see Mademoiselle royally 
 welcomed by the elector and madame, and full of 
 joy in her new religious freedom. The elector 
 treats her as a beloved daughter, and madame can 
 hardly bear to have her out of her sight." 
 
 "I have heard that Mademoiselle de Bourbon 
 is a lady of rare charms," said the prince quietly. 
 
 "Ah, my lord," cried Norbert, "to those who 
 are within her inner circle the devotion to Made 
 moiselle becomes a sort of cult. There is about 
 her something that I have never seen in like meas 
 ure in any other person, and that is the power to 
 lift up those who are cast down and cheer the sor 
 rowful. You know of my poor little sister, and our 
 sorrow." 
 
 "Yes, Tontorf ; I have thought that the full 
 cruelty of that terrible crime fell more heavily upon 
 her than upon you, since she has had to bear the 
 knowledge that in all innocence she had betrayed 
 those she loved to their death."
 
 354 
 
 " It is true, my lord. The burden of her grief 
 has eaten out all her young life like a canker. No 
 one, not even the electress, fondly as she loves her, 
 has been able to lift up her wounded spirit until she 
 saw Mademoiselle. The first sound of her voice 
 seemed to bring a new light into Jacqueline's eyes, 
 and I believe hope and courage are dawning for 
 her, through the influence of my lady." 
 
 " How beautiful ! " murmured the prince. 
 
 "And such is the saint, the angel almost," cried 
 Norbert passionately, "against whom her father, 
 the Due de Montpensier rages as against an escaped 
 felon, calling upon all and sundry to 'find her wherever 
 she may be, within or without the kingdom and bring 
 her back, alive or dead, that the injury and dishonor 
 which she has brought upon her father may be atoned 
 for by a punishment and a chastisement so notable 
 that the memory of it may endure perpetually through 
 all time to come." 
 
 " Does the Due so say ? " and the prince's brow 
 knit stormily. 
 
 " Such are his words, and such envenomed bit 
 terness as were shown by both him and his wicked 
 little duchesse I have never witnessed." 
 
 " Has the elector made formal announcement of 
 the arrival of Mademoiselle at Heidelberg to others." 
 
 " Yes, I went also to his majesty, King Charles 
 and to the queen-mother." 
 
 " How did they receive the tidings ? " 
 
 "With sang-froid my lord. The court thinks of 
 little now but the marriage of Princess Marguerite 
 with Prince Henri of Navarre. The king remarked 
 that he had ever thought his cousin de Montpensier 
 a blind mole to cage up in a monastery so lovely 
 a creature as his daughter Charlotte," he added. 
 
 The prince was silent for some moments and when 
 he next spoke it was to say with energy : 
 
 " And now, Tontorf, for the Netherlands ! All 
 depends upon the swiftness and skill with which
 
 355 
 
 we can carry through our measures. Every town 
 in Holland and Zeeland of importance must be 
 secretly visited and a call to action and to arms 
 placed in the hands of the burgomasters. It will 
 be a difficult expedition and a dangerous. Are you 
 ready for it ? " 
 
 " Ready, my lord." 
 
 On the fifteenth day of May there stepped from a 
 small coastwise ship upon the Rouenische Kade in the 
 city of Middelburg, a Breton mariner with bronzed 
 face, in coarse blue woolen jerkin and knitted cap, 
 who with hands thrust deep into his breeches pock 
 ets strolled idly along the Kade whistling an odd 
 little tune. 
 
 From the Kade the aforesaid mariner entered a 
 narrow street, looking from side to side with appar 
 ent curiosity and coming presently into the great 
 market place just as the Stadthuis chimes rang out 
 for seven o'clock. A queer smile crossed the sailor's 
 face as he looked up at the belfry, and his eyes 
 wandered from it to the tower of Lange Jan rising 
 silent from the roofs of the great abbey buildings. 
 Lounging near the Stadthuis the Breton watched 
 with apparent indifference the drill of a regiment of 
 Spanish soldiers in the great square. Several idlers 
 addressed him in Dutch, but he appeared to under 
 stand no language but French and no one could 
 enter into conversation with him. 
 
 When the voice of the great horologe of Lange 
 Jan smote upon the evening air the stranger turned 
 his head quickly and walked away in the direction 
 of the Lange Delft. 
 
 It was remarked afterward that the man was 
 seen hanging about the old Tontorf house, now the 
 headquarters of the Spanish officers, and some one 
 reported that they saw tears in his eyes and heard 
 him mutter to himself incomprehensible words. 
 Soon after he disappeared, but when the burgomas-
 
 356 
 
 ter and the town council met in assembly the fol 
 lowing morning, this same Breton mariner was 
 ushered into the room and gave into the hands of 
 the burgomaster a letter and thereafter disappeared 
 and was not seen again nor could be found in all 
 Middelburg. 
 
 Upon opening this letter it was found to be from 
 the Prince of Orange with his own sign and seal, 
 and it exhorted the men of Middelburg not to be 
 behind their countrymen in the island of Walch- 
 eren, but to follow the example of Flushing and 
 Veere and declare themselves loyal to their out 
 raged land and ready for action. 
 
 Such an appeal the worthy burgomaster and his 
 honorable councillors found exceeding troublesome 
 and dangerous, as involving measures treasonable 
 to the king of Spain, and as Middelburg was in 
 vested with a goodly Spanish garrison, wholly un 
 feasible for that present time. Let them of Flush 
 ing and Veere declare for the Beggars if they 
 choose, they of Middelburg depended on Spain for 
 their prosperity and trade and by Spain they would 
 stand. 
 
 Meanwhile the Breton mariner went on his way 
 to Flushing, Veere, Enkhuizen, to Alkmaar, Gouda, 
 Leyden, Dort, and a dozen other places, and wher 
 ever he appeared a letter straightway was found 
 in the hands of burgomaster or alderman, a letter 
 from the Prince of Orange, and in the letter an 
 appeal to rise and protect their ancient liberties and 
 throw off the tyranny of Alva, and, save Middel 
 burg, every town responded. 
 
 Then followed a great day, a day which heralded 
 the freedom of the Netherlands. At Dordrecht the 
 estates of Holland, Zeeland, Utrecht, and Friesland 
 assembled and formally recognized the prince as 
 their lawful stadtholder, and in the cheers that rent 
 the sky no man cheered louder than that same 
 Breton mariner.
 
 357 
 
 St. Aldegonde, the patriot poet and ardent friend 
 of Orange, addressed the estates with impassioned 
 oratory, rehearsing the outrageous wrongs suffered 
 under Alva, and prophesying the dawning of a new 
 day of freedom and release. 
 
 Then in loud and thrilling chorus for the first 
 time was sung the glorious hymn, the "Wilhelmus- 
 lied " of St. Aldegonde : 
 
 " Take courage, my brave people all ! 
 
 God's grace protects you still ; 
 The Lord will never you forsake, 
 
 Though now ye suffer ill. 
 The Lord then pray both night and day, 
 
 Beseech him faithfully, 
 That he will give me aid and power 
 
 To set my people free." 
 
 " My life and all that is my own 
 
 I to your cause confide ; 
 My brothers, knightly gentlemen, 
 
 Stand loyal at my side. 
 Count Adolf we left lying there 
 
 In Friesland's woful fray, 
 His soul above, In worlds unseen, 
 
 Waits for the judgment day.
 
 XXXII 
 WHITER THAN THE WHITEST. 
 
 IN the Westwall garden of Heidelberg Castle white 
 lilies were blooming in stately ranks under the 
 shade of the mighty lindens. The June sun 
 pouring over the grim bastion of the Rondel and 
 touching the sun dial at its base showed the day's 
 decline. The woodthrush was fluting in the dense 
 billowing mass of the forest foliage below the castle 
 wall, and the breeze which stirred the treetops 
 came laden with the fragrance of roses. 
 
 The scent of the roses brought to Charlotte de 
 Bourbon, who lingered near the castle wall, keen 
 memories of other roses, another garden, and an 
 other life in a far land. But though the thought of 
 Jouarre brought the dimness of tears for a moment 
 to hide the valley of the Neckar, stretching west 
 ward, green and fair, it could not long cloud the 
 serene joyousness of her spirit. 
 
 The Abbess of Jouarre was no more, and in her 
 place moved and lived a radiant maiden, whose 
 simple white gown, without jewels, bespoke her 
 poverty and declared nothing of her rank and con 
 sequence. But her firm and spirited bearing and 
 the frank, innocent delight of every look and mo 
 tion, told of freedom and a heart at ease. 
 
 In her hand Mademoiselle held a letter, and turn 
 ing now from the wall she began slowly to pace the 
 garden path between the lilies, and as she moved 
 on she lifted the letter in her white hand and read 
 again the lines inspired by deepest affection for her 
 self, and undying faithfulness to her interests. It 
 was her " bien bonne con sine et parfaite amye, Je- 
 358
 
 359 
 
 - 
 
 g 
 
 s s 
 
 I 
 
 CASTLE
 
 360 
 
 hanne," who, in the midst of all the excitement of 
 the French court and the approaching marriage of 
 her son to the daughter of Catharine de Medici, still 
 found time to seek to reconcile the bitter spirit of 
 the Due de Montpensier to his child. 
 
 With all her tenderness, Jeanne d'Albret could 
 not conceal from Charlotte the fact of her ill suc 
 cess thus far ; but even this and the knowledge of 
 her father's persistent, impotent rage could not long 
 cloud the spirit of the lady. She was free, and her 
 freedom was safely guarded by her host, the stanch 
 old elector. A month before he had received the 
 emissaries of the furious Due, sent in succession to 
 demand the person of his daughter and convey her 
 back, by force, if necessary, to France, with the 
 imperturbable reply that he would send Mademoi 
 selle back only on the express conditions of her 
 personal safety and her free exercise of the Protes 
 tant religion. Such answer was final. The Due 
 desisted from further efforts, and his daughter, al 
 though knowing herself fatherless, yet knew her 
 self free. The joy of her newly won freedom 
 could not be destroyed, the rather that it had given 
 her the long-desired power to confess herself Prot 
 estant, without fear or favor, following unchecked 
 the impulses of her earnest conviction and entering 
 in full sympathy into the devout religious life of 
 the court of Heidelberg. 
 
 But Charlotte was not only free, she was un- 
 watched, she who had never been unwatched in 
 all her young life ; best of all, she was ardently be 
 loved in the household of the Elector Friedrich. 
 Around her there had formed itself already in the 
 three months of her residence, a little inner court 
 of Huguenot refugees from her own dear land, to 
 whose homesick anxieties and distress she had be 
 come a ministering angel, and among whom she 
 was well-nigh adored for the generosity, the gen 
 tleness, and the winning grace of her nature.
 
 36 1 
 
 And so, as Charlotte de Bourbon let fall the hand 
 which held the letter of her majesty of Navarre and 
 turned to speak to the young girl who was walking 
 a step or two behind her, her blue eyes were clear 
 and sunny as they had been in the days of her 
 childhood. Bending, she broke a lily stem and in 
 haled the fragrance of the gleaming white chalice. 
 
 "Oh, how sweet these lilies are!" she cried. 
 " Ever and everywhere the same ! Did you hear 
 the sound of horses' hoofs coming up the hill, 
 Jacqueline ? " she asked her companion, a little 
 later, carelessly. " Methinks I heard something a 
 moment since, but now it has ceased." 
 
 Jacqueline Tontorf, a tall, slender girl, with heavy 
 masses of brown hair braided about her head, and 
 large brown eyes in which dwelt a brooding thought- 
 fulness, responded gently in the affirmative. 
 
 Then as the eyes of both turned toward the 
 southern entrance of the west wall, they saw ap 
 proaching them a man of knightly figure and bear 
 ing, clad in a light suit of mail with a plumed helmet. 
 
 It was the Prince of Orange. 
 
 Approaching nearer the prince stayed his steps, 
 with a look of deepest homage, wonder, and rever 
 ence. 
 
 "Your pardon, gracious lady," he exclaimed. 
 " I find myself mistaken. Catching sight of your 
 self and your companion as I approached the castle 
 gate I thought I recognized my good friend of other 
 days, the Electress Amalie, and so gave my horse 
 to my groom and made haste forthwith to present 
 myself to her grace. Pardon my mistake and my 
 seeming presumption." 
 
 Mademoiselle, who had lost and recovered all her 
 bloom, and much more, while these words were 
 spoken, now said, with a slight tremor in her voice : 
 
 "And would I also be in error should I think 
 myself speaking to monseigneur the Prince of 
 Orange?"
 
 362 
 
 The prince had removed his helmet and stood 
 -with bared, stately head, his helmet braced against 
 his left side. Approaching the lady now by a few 
 steps he signified a peculiar pleasure in such recog 
 nition, bowing profoundly. Then in a voice so low 
 that it was unheard by the maiden, Jacqueline, who 
 had turned back and seemed studying the old dial 
 with deepest interest, he said : 
 
 " Your grace, long ago in another garden, in an 
 other land, a man who was half a prisoner, and 
 greatly burdened in heart and mind, saw a fair 
 demoiselle, hardly beyond childhood in years. She 
 also was clothed in white and she carried white 
 roses in her hand, as white as your flowers, Mad 
 emoiselle, but her face was yet whiter and her 
 eyes tear-dimmed. The man who gazed upon her 
 whom he now knows to be the Princess de Bour 
 bon, and who named her "Sainte Silence," has 
 never forgotten that unknown maiden nor the tal 
 isman she gave him that day. Silence, patience, 
 fortitude, such was the message of the rose." 
 
 The Prince of Orange in the thirteen years which 
 had passed since he was a hostage at the, Palace of 
 Vincennes, had changed from the brilliant, conquer 
 ing young courtier to a mature and serious man 
 hood. His face was grave, deep lines of thought 
 and care were in his forehead, and traces of gray 
 showed in the brown beard and hair. In place of 
 the sense of joyous and masterful confidence which 
 had characterized the foster-son and favorite of the 
 great emperor in his young years, there now ap 
 peared a profound reserve, a searching, even mourn 
 ful inquiry, a stern, indomitable resoluteness. Yet 
 in far greater measure to-day than in his youth the 
 personality of the prince possessed that imposing 
 and inexplicable quality which, apart from what a 
 man may say or do or appear cries, " Here is a 
 .great man." 
 
 As he now spoke with a rare and moving gentle-
 
 363 
 
 ness, his dark serious eyes fixed fully upon her 
 face, Charlotte de Bourbon felt that strong influ 
 ence of the person and presence of the prince in an 
 almost overmastering degree. Her eyes, which had 
 sought to avoid the ardent homage in the looks of 
 the gallant younger Nassau, Count Louis, received 
 and returned the deeper devotion in the eyes of his 
 brother with simple steadfastness, but from head 
 to foot she trembled and something stirred within 
 her heart in poignant, mysterious augury. Unable 
 by reason of her unwonted agitation to reply to his 
 words, Charlotte for answer extended her right 
 hand to the prince and in the hand, unaware, she 
 still held the single lily. 
 
 The prince lifted the beautiful hand to his lips, 
 and took the flower quietly into his own hand. 
 
 " Thanks are poor, Mademoiselle, for such a gift," 
 he said gravely. "I have told your highness the 
 message of the rose. A day may come when I 
 shall be so bold as to ask you to tell me the mes 
 sage of the lily. May we speedily meet again ! " 
 and with a salutation of courtliest deference he 
 turned then and hastened back to the great gate of 
 the castle. 
 
 Charlotte walked slowly down the path to Jac 
 queline, who still stood near the sun dial with her 
 serious, contemplative gaze ranging over the land 
 scape. 
 
 " Child," she said softly, "do you know who 
 it is that has come ? " 
 
 " It is the prince ! " 
 
 " You have seen him before ! seen him doubt 
 less in Breda ? " 
 
 " Never before, your highness." 
 
 " How, then, knew you him ? You heard me ad 
 dress him ? " 
 
 Jacqueline shook her head quietly. 
 
 " No, my lady. I knew there was but one man 
 to-day alive who could look like that."
 
 364 
 
 " What is it, Jacqueline, which makes his grace of 
 Orange so unlike other men ? " murmured Char 
 lotte. 
 
 She was trembling still, touched by a nameless 
 but potent influence which she could not define nor 
 comprehend. 
 
 Jacqueline was silent, her eyes full of their 
 strange, melancholy brooding. 
 
 " He is no longer the lonely wanderer, outcast, 
 friendless, powerless, as in the time of which your 
 brother has told me," proceeded Charlotte mus 
 ingly ; " he has rallied his forces, compelled his fate, 
 conquered his evil star, and is to-day, so the elector 
 has told me, the central militant figure in the Prot 
 estant world." 
 
 " Yes, my lady, the tide has turned. His grace 
 is now to return to our dear land with a great army 
 and set my people free." 
 
 " Yes, Jacqueline. This I most certainly believe, 
 for is not France also aroused ? And with Coligny 
 and the prince joining their forces, success this time 
 seems certain. 1 feel the sense of power in mon- 
 seigneur. I feel his steady, conquering courage, and 
 yet what is it in his face, in his eyes, which gives 
 me this unspeakable pang ? " 
 
 It was strange. Mademoiselle de Bourbon asked 
 this question of the simple Zeeland maiden with an 
 eagerness which denoted belief in her ability to 
 give her adequate reply. 
 
 "Ah, my lady," said the girl, slow tears drop 
 ping from her eyes, " it is so plain." 
 
 " What is plain, Jacqueline ? " 
 
 " That my lord is doomed. Do you not see 
 that seal of the martyr on his brow ? that shadow 
 of death in his eyes ? It was in my father's," and 
 Jacqueline's voice sank to a whisper. " It is a look 
 which, if you once have seen, you never can mis 
 take." 
 
 No word or sign responded to this strange utter-
 
 1 365 
 
 ance, but with face white and awed Mademoiselle 
 turned and hastened from the garden. 
 
 That evening the stately Kaiser-Saal in the Otto- 
 Heinrichsbau was the scene of brilliant festivity in 
 honor of the distinguished guest of the elector. At 
 a late hour ten trumpeters in gorgeous livery enter 
 ing the hall blew a silvery blast announcing that 
 supper was served. The court then proceeded 
 through the eastern entrance of the Kaiser-Saal, 
 and by the long south gallery to the famous Gla- 
 serner-Saal in the upper story of the Saalbau. 
 
 Here the venerable elector and his wife, the still 
 young and charming Princess Amalie, took their 
 places at the head of the table, the Princess de Bour 
 bon at the right of the grave, fatherly elector, the 
 Prince of Orange at the left of his old friend, the 
 Netherlandish electress. Beside Mademoiselle sat 
 Duke Christoph, the stalwart young son of the 
 elector, and beside the prince, Kunigunde, the rosy- 
 cheeked young daughter. 
 
 It had been under the escort of the prince, for 
 whom she had ever entertained a species of en 
 thusiastic hero-worship, that the beautiful widow 
 of his lifelong friend, the famous Heer von Brede- 
 rode, had, in 1569, visited the court of Heidelberg, 
 and won the heart of its master, then in the second 
 year of his widowhood. Orange was, therefore, 
 the favorite guest of the princely pair, and a spirit 
 of unconstrained good cheer and unclouded mutual 
 confidence reigned supreme. 
 
 The prince was at his best. A new influx of 
 power and hope gave lustre to his eyes and added 
 brilliancy to his conversation. Victory and saiccess 
 seemed well within his grasp that night. He knew 
 himself to be among friends enthusiastically de 
 voted to his person and interests, and just before 
 him, inspiring every thought, sat the lovely French 
 princess, in her gracious, girlish beauty, with the 
 serene repose of the cloister still upon her.
 
 366 
 
 To the prince Charlotte de Bourbon was a new 
 type of womanhood. His mother and sisters were 
 noble, pious, and serious-minded women of the 
 sturdy old-German domestic type. Anne of Eg- 
 mont, the wife whom the Emperor Charles had 
 chosen for him at eighteen, had been an amiable, 
 but colorless and conventional person, who had left 
 no deep impression upon his heart or life. Then 
 had followed his ambitious but ill-fated union with 
 Anne of Saxony, which had resulted in eight years 
 of profound suffering and humiliation. Although 
 borne in proud, uncomplaining silence, the ravages 
 of those years upon the brain and heart of the 
 long-suffering man might never be obliterated. 
 
 But the prince, all the more for an experience 
 like this and for his lifelong familiarity with famous 
 court beauties of his time, was quick to respond to 
 the lofty purity, the delicate reserve, the flexible, 
 yet stately grace of the "maiden from afar" of 
 whom so much had already been told him, and in 
 whom with strange emotion he had recognized the 
 "little Sainte Silence" of his long-ago encounter 
 at the court of France. 
 
 Uniting in herself in a unique degree the essen 
 tial beauty of both the ancient faith and the New 
 Religion, the pure, chastened meekness of the nun, 
 in whose life "obedience, silence, humility" had 
 been the watchword, and the radiant spiritual en 
 thusiasm and divine freedom of the early Protes 
 tant cult, Charlotte de Bourbon produced, at this 
 time in her life, a profound impression upon all who 
 met her. 
 
 The court of Heidelberg, under the simple, unos 
 tentatious rule of Friedrich der Fromm, was char 
 acterized by democratic indifference to titles and 
 rank. On this occasion Mademoiselle's personal 
 following was represented by Jeanne de Mousson 
 and Jeannette Vassetz, the young Jacqueline Ton- 
 torf, who had been appointed by the electress to
 
 367 
 
 immediate attendance upon Mademoiselle, and the 
 Sieur de Minay, Frangois d'Averly, who remained 
 always with her as her spiritual guide and counsel 
 lor. His brother, George d'Averly, had already 
 returned to France. 
 
 Although participating but slightly in the conver 
 sation, Charlotte listened with kindling and sym 
 pathetic response to every word. Much was said 
 of the gallant relief of Mons by Count Louis, 
 which, a month earlier, opened the new campaign 
 in Brabant by a stroke of stratagem so audacious 
 that only its success justified it. Alva could have 
 sworn that Louis was at that very time in the ten 
 nis court of Paris. De la Noue, the valiant Bras 
 de fer, and the Sieur de Genlis were acting with 
 Louis, but the Spanish, under Don Frederic, son of 
 Alva, had now laid siege to Mons, and the first duty 
 of the prince on the invasion of the Netherlands, 
 which he was about to lead in person, would be to 
 relieve the Huguenot and patriot forces now shut 
 up within the city. 
 
 Never had the time been so ripe for success in 
 the cause of freedom for the Netherlands as now. 
 The people were awake at last themselves ; almost 
 every town of importance had declared for the 
 prince save Middelburg, which with its strong Span 
 ish garrison was closely invested by the Beggars. 
 Alva himself was disheartened, sick of butchery 
 and bloodshed, conscious of the waning success of 
 his savage policy, and the universal hatred of him 
 self, and eager to be released. 
 
 The prince was at the moment on his way to 
 cross the Rhine at the head of an army of twenty 
 thousand men. To ensure to such a force three 
 months' wages in advance had been indeed a prob 
 lem, but even of this he was sanguine. He had 
 come to-day from Frankfurt, where he had suc 
 ceeded in raising a fair sum of money on the last 
 remnants of his own possessions. Charles IX. had
 
 368 
 
 recently contributed two hundred thousand crowns, 
 after which who could doubt the seriousness of his 
 purpose in engaging in " the Flemish war " ? 
 Money was rolling in bravely from the Protestants 
 of England, although Elizabeth herself, after her 
 wonted fashion, was blowing hot and cold ; best of 
 all, Coligny, so high in royal favor as now to be 
 popularly called " King of Paris," would soon join 
 him in person in Hainault. 
 
 Despite his natural reserve and his wonted silence 
 regarding his own matters, the high hopes of the 
 prince and the enthusiasm with which he was now 
 again entering the arena to fight for his people 
 could not be suppressed in this presence. 
 
 Charlotte de Bourbon saw the light in his eyes, 
 the firm, quiet, yet intense purpose expressed in 
 every line of his face, and yet, ever above and be 
 neath all she saw that strange, brooding shadow, 
 that indescribable, unconscious melancholy. 
 
 Was Jacqueline right when she saw in this the 
 mark of doom, the seal of martyrdom set on the 
 man's forehead ? 
 
 The banquet over, the elector and his guest with 
 drew for brief private conversation. Having closed 
 the door of his audience room the stern old elector 
 seated himself before a desk and handed the prince 
 a letter. 
 
 It was written from Blois early in May and was 
 from Count Louis. 
 
 The prince read it through with a swift and 
 startling change of countenance and said : 
 
 "May I ask your grace for some explanation ? 
 The matter is not clear to me." 
 
 " Certainly, I will explain. A certain Ruze, Bish 
 op of Angers, wrote us early in April, immediately 
 indeed after it became known to the Due de Mont- 
 pensier that his daughter had sought our protection, 
 a most infamous letter, impugning 'the character 
 and motives of the Princess de Bourbon and having
 
 369 
 
 the shameless effrontery to inform us that it was 
 perfectly understood at the Abbey of Jouarre that 
 the clandestine departure of its abbess was the out 
 come of a liaison of long standing between her and 
 Count Louis of Nassau." 
 
 The eyes of the prince fairly blazed with fury. 
 
 " The Inquisition has many means of torture be 
 sides rack and fire," he said under his breath. 
 
 "Yes, this was Ruze's last and deadliest cruelty 
 to the young Abbess of Jouarre. I sent his letter 
 back by return messenger with no other word than 
 that the Elector Palatine declined to receive further 
 communications from that source." 
 
 " And you also informed my brother of the pur 
 port of the letter ? " 
 
 " Precisely, and this is his reply." 
 
 Again the prince scanned the letter with strange 
 intensity of eagerness. 
 
 " Did the miserable coward not hide behind his 
 profession he should answer to me for this base 
 slander in fair fight," read the letter. " I care little 
 for the stain upon my own good name. Let it pass. 
 But in this cruel lie the scoundrel has sought to 
 defame the whitest-souled and most spotless virgin 
 whom ever a man worshiped in all reverence from 
 afar. That I do so reverence the Princess de Bour 
 bon, that I secretly and unknown to her bear in 
 my heart a pure and honorable passion of devotion 
 toward her which I have no right in this time of 
 crisis and uncertainty to declare, I care not to deny. 
 Such calumny as this craven priest dares to utter 
 I scorn to contradict. It is beneath contempt. God 
 grant it may never reach the ears of her highness ! " 
 
 The prince looked up. " Gallantly spoken, your 
 grace," he said, " like the gallant junker he is. In 
 his name let me urge that the foul slander be kept 
 from Mademoiselle." He spoke earnestly, but 
 utterance seemed difficult and forced, and his voice 
 was other than his own.
 
 370 
 
 "You can rely upon me for that," replied the 
 elector, with a grim compression of his lips. " I 
 was ill disposed to give the lad pain, but I thought 
 it right he should have the chance to speak a word 
 for himself. A marvelous fellow that young brother 
 of yours, my lord ! It seems none can withstand 
 him. He has won over the court of France, and 
 perchance the court of England. Walsingham writes 
 that he is surely the rarest and goodliest man he 
 has looked upon since leaving England. Burleigh 
 finds his speech irresistible." 
 
 "Yes," replied the prince. "Louis succeeds 
 everywhere, but never beyond his desert." 
 
 With those quiet words a stone was laid above a 
 new-born hope quickly dead and quickly buried.
 
 DOOM 
 
 " TEANNE, my girl, Jeanne, to-night I have the 
 
 ^j strangest thoughts ! You could not under 
 stand them. 1 must not name them," and 
 Charlotte de Bourbon, on her knees in a deep win 
 dow-niche of her beautiful chamber, in the second 
 story of the Frauenzimmerbau, leaned her cheek 
 aslant on her clasped hands and, turning her head 
 from her faithful friend, looked down into the Court 
 of Honor flooded with moonlight. 
 
 It was long past midnight. The lady had ex 
 changed her court apparel for a peignoir of white 
 muslin, but seemed to have no thought of retiring, 
 and it was thus that Jeanne de Mousson had found 
 her, and had seen bright drops gleaming in the 
 moonlight on her cheeks, and so, fearful ever of 
 trouble for her lady, had knelt beside her with arms 
 clasped about her slender body, imploring to know 
 why she wept. 
 
 " Are you sure I could not understand, dearest 
 lady ? " Jeanne whispered wistfully. " Did I ever 
 fail to understand the sorrows of Mademoiselle, 
 which have been so many, or the joys which of old 
 were so few ? " 
 
 " But this is different, ma mie. This is something 
 wholly new, but whether joy or sorrow I cannot 
 understand myself ! It is conflict, confusion, per 
 plexity. Howbeit, it is after all nothing to me." 
 
 There was a wise little silence on Jeanne's part. 
 Then Charlotte said slowly : 
 
 " Did Captain Tontorf once tell us that his grace 
 of Orange has a wife ? "
 
 37-* 
 
 . Of the fact that Captain Tontorf had a wife 
 Mademoiselle still remained in ignorance. 
 
 "Yes, my lady, he has made mention of the ex 
 istence of the Princess Anne of Saxony, but in 
 strange terms." 
 
 "1 remember. Our dearest Madame d'Albret 
 told me of her also, long since, at Jouarre. It is ever 
 the same. Some mysterious obscurity hangs about 
 the person of that lady. For years now I have not 
 even heard her name." 
 
 " This much I know from Captain Tontorf," re 
 plied Jeanne, " that she is, or was, a cruel, heartless 
 woman and of a wild and stormy nature, and that 
 the prince has never through all his troubles found 
 in her aught of sympathy or wifely gentleness" 
 
 "Oh, Jeanne !" 
 
 A little sob broke from Charlotte's lips. 
 
 " That he of all men," she murmured, "should 
 miss the common good which is the right of the 
 humblest, and the happiest he with that look in 
 his eyes that breaks one's heart ! " 
 
 " How mean you, Mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " Ah, you do not know what that strange child, 
 Jacqueline, said to me to-day. Jeanne, do you 
 think she has second sight ? " Charlotte's blue 
 eyes were lifted with piteous anxiety to her friend's 
 face. 
 
 " It may be, dearest lady ; I have thought so, but 
 I cannot tell. What did she say ? " 
 
 " That the prince bears upon his brow the seal 
 of martyrdom, the shadow of doom. She has seen 
 the look in her father's face. She says one could 
 not mistake it." 
 
 Each word was spoken with the solemnity of ir 
 resistible conviction. 
 
 "Jeanne," in another breath, "/ hare seen it, 
 now, myself." 
 
 "Oh, my lady ! " Awed and mastered by her 
 mistress' mood, Jeanne could say nothing more.
 
 373 
 
 Charlotte had risen and released herself from 
 the girl's encircling arms ; and now as she stood, 
 tall and white in the moonlight, a strange and lofty 
 inspiration seemed to touch and calm her. 
 
 "My friend," she said slowly, "how could a 
 woman, if she had a woman's heart, miss so glori 
 ous a vocation ? How could she throw away sucli 
 privilege as that of dedicating her life to him, a man 
 so far above his fellows, of warding from him the 
 doom that follows him, even if need were, of dying 
 for him ? To save a nation's leader, and so per 
 chance a nation's faith and freedom, oh, dear 
 Jeanne, what nobler vocation could one seek ? 
 How our cloister hopes pale and shrivel by the side 
 of it ! This were great and high, an inspiration to 
 lift even a weak, unknown woman into the fellow 
 ship of the great spirits who are laying down their 
 lives in this awful time for God and men ! " 
 
 Before Jeanne could respond a swift change had 
 passed over her lady. From the height of this con 
 ception, which had lifted her for the moment above 
 herself, she was swept by a wave of yearning, un 
 speakable emotion, the ever new, the ever old, and 
 throwing herself into the arms of her friend, she 
 whispered : 
 
 "May God forgive me if this be sin, but, oh, 
 Jeanne, what woman would not, if she could, follow 
 the prince to the earth's end if so she might win one 
 look, one smile, one word of such love as souls like 
 his could know, and that won, die gladly, knowing 
 herself the crowned of womankind " 
 
 Startled by a slight sound at the door Charlotte 
 became silent and turned quickly to see it gently 
 pushed open and Jacqueline Tontorf, in her simple, 
 white robe, enter. 
 
 Her eyelids were downcast, but tears flowed fast 
 down her cheeks, and as she walked with slow, 
 groping steps, she wrung her hands with a strange 
 motion, and a low, stifled moan came from her lips.
 
 374 
 
 " She is walking in her sleep," whispered Jeanne. 
 " Pauvrefille ! She has before." 
 
 Charlotte had thrown her arm tenderly about the 
 girl. 
 
 "What is it, little one?" she asked gently. 
 "Awake, Jacqueline." 
 
 "The gloves, oh, the gloves!" murmured 
 Jacqueline, in a hurried, agonized whisper. "Take 
 them away, quickly, or it is too late. Oh, my lady, 
 too late ! " 
 
 She had opened her eyes now, and fixed them 
 upon Charlotte's face with a wild, bewildered stare. 
 Meeting the quiet, subduing compassion of her 
 lady's look, she burst into a flood of tears and sank 
 trembling and sobbing upon a low seat. 
 
 "You were dreaming, dear Jacqueline," said 
 Charlotte, caressing the maiden's beautiful flowing 
 hair with a steady hand, albeit her heart was trem 
 bling within her, "and now you are awake and it 
 is all over." 
 
 " Nay, nay, my lady, alas, not all over ! " and 
 Jacqueline sprang to her feet, and lifting her finger 
 in token that they should be silent, she stood in an 
 attitude of strained attention. 
 
 " Do you not hear ? " she asked, after a few sec 
 onds had passed, in which each of the others heard 
 only the loud beating of her own heart. " It is the 
 first muttering of a great storm. Soon it will break 
 upon us. O God, have pity." 
 
 Then, in the distance and the hush of the night, 
 a far, faint sound, as of hoofs upon the hard high 
 road below the castle, was vaguely heard, a sound 
 which came nearer and nearer, faster and faster. 
 The hoofbeats were now on the bridge over the 
 moat, they reverberated beneath the great vaulted 
 arch of the Thorthurm, and springing to the window, 
 Charlotte and Jeanne saw a horse and rider gallop 
 into the Court of Honor and draw up before the 
 colonnade of the Soldaten-bau.
 
 375 
 
 "It is a courier from France. His errand must 
 be urgent to bring him at such an hour as this. 
 Look, Jeanne, he wears the livery of my lord de 
 Teligny ! " cried Charlotte. " I believe his message 
 is to me," and calling to the guard on duty at the 
 entrance of the Frauenzimmerbau, she bade him 
 summon the rider to come hither. 
 
 A moment later Charlotte stood, Jeanne de Mous- 
 son beside her, on the moon-flooded pavement of 
 the Court of Honor, and before her the wearied, 
 breathless messenger who had just leaped from his 
 horse. 
 
 " What news from France ? " 
 
 " 111 news, madame," replied the man. " I have 
 letters from the admiral to his excellency, and one 
 from my lord de Teligny to the Princess de Bour 
 bon." 
 
 With a word, Charlotte extended her hand and 
 received the letter which the courier drew from a 
 case within his doublet. The superscription was 
 read without difficulty, although the rays of the 
 moon had become intercepted by light clouds. The 
 dawn breeze had awakened and sighed plaintively 
 through the vast arches and cloisters of the great 
 court. 
 
 The letter trembled in Charlotte's hands. It 
 brought ill news, it seemed, ill heralded. 
 
 "Have you other message ?" she asked falter- 
 ingly, " message by word of mouth ? " 
 
 "Your highness," said the man, shaking his 
 head, "my lord could not write what all they of 
 the Religion in Paris believe." 
 
 "And that is?" 
 
 "That her majesty of Navarre met her death 
 from poison in a pair of gloves sent from Monsieur 
 Rene, the queen-mother's perfumer." 
 
 Charlotte looked fixedly at the man for a moment, 
 as if unable to comprehend the import of his words. 
 Then with a gesture of dismissal she re-entered the
 
 3/6 
 
 great portal of the Frauenzimmerbau and, followed 
 by Jeanne de Mousson, walked slowly to her room, 
 where she sank fainting on the bed. 
 
 The letter which lay for a time unopened, con 
 firmed the tragic utterance of the courier, in so far 
 as it was concerned with fact rather than with ru 
 mor. For Jeanne d'Albret had perished in the 
 prime of her noble and vigorous womanhood, and 
 over the means and manner of her exit from the 
 strange and stormy scenes of her life hung that 
 day, and will ever hang, a dark doubt and mys 
 tery. 
 
 Moving on the highest plane of action, with a 
 puissant spirit and an unconquerable heart, each 
 new vicissitude of life served to develop a nobler 
 grace and a more commanding courage in the 
 daughter of Marguerite of Valois. Even the foes of 
 her faith were fain to call her one of the greatest 
 spirits of the epoch. Certain is it that no queen 
 of her century was her superior in virile force and 
 political genius, while none was her equal in purity 
 of life and religious devotion. 
 
 Such was the queen whom Catharine de Medici 
 ''hated with all her cowardly heart." Whether 
 her death were the result of a deliberate plan on 
 the part of Catharine or not, certain is it that in the 
 three short weeks which Jeanne d'Albret most re 
 luctantly spent in Paris at the dissolute Valois court 
 her whole being was poisoned and life embittered 
 by the heartless insincerity, the shameless im 
 morality, and the unconcealed sneering contempt 
 for herself and her religion shown by Catharine 
 and those who surrounded her. 
 
 Her death made her son Henri, king of Navarre, 
 and removed an awkward obstacle in the way of 
 the further designs of the queen-mother. His mar 
 riage with the Princess Marguerite, which was to 
 have taken place immediately, was now postponed 
 until the seventeenth of August.
 
 377 
 
 In the early morning, which was dim with rain, 
 the slow tolling of the great bell in the Glocken- 
 thurm of Heidelberg Castle announced the reception 
 of the tidings of the death of the Queen of Navarre 
 by the elector. 
 
 As the sounds died away Charlotte de Bourbon 
 lifted her white face from the pillow, for sorrow had 
 prostrated her for the time, and seemed listening. 
 She heard another sound. 
 
 "Jeanne," she said gently, "look out and tell 
 me what is passing below. I hear the noise of men 
 and horses in motion." 
 
 " Yes, dear lady," said Jeanne softly ; " it is the 
 escort of the Prince of Orange. The men are 
 mounted and are waiting now near the great gate." 
 
 " Do you see the prince ? " 
 
 A faint flush came into the pale cheeks with the 
 words. 
 
 " Yes," said Jeanne, " he stands with the elector 
 and madame in the portico of the Otto-Heinrichs- 
 bau. Duke Christoph and Kunigunde are with 
 them. He is taking leave of them." 
 
 " 1 did not think he had left so soon," murmured 
 Charlotte. 
 
 " A groom holds his horse just before the steps," 
 proceeded Jeanne. " He is speaking to Madame, 
 but his looks are cast in this direction. Now he is 
 mounting. He turns this way. Ah, my lady, he 
 is like a man who has received a heavy blow. 
 Hardly is your own face paler or more stricken. 
 He is bending low in his saddle, saluting their ex 
 cellencies. Now he gallops across the court and is 
 close at hand below. Ah, his eyes are lifted. Lis 
 ten ! " and Jeanne drew back from the window. 
 
 The sound of hoofs rang clear from the pavement 
 of the Court of Honor and filled the ears of both 
 the listening maidens for a moment. Swiftly re 
 ceding the sounds grew duller and more distant and 
 were presently lost.
 
 378 
 
 " Gone without a word," Charlotte murmured 
 faintly. " I may never see his face again." 
 
 " Yes, dearest lady," said Jeanne, sitting on the 
 bed's edge and smoothing the brightness of Made 
 moiselle's hair from her throbbing temples, " but 
 not without a look. I can read the meaning in a 
 brave man's eyes. Trust me, you will see the face 
 of my lord again ; but first there is all the world to 
 lose or win. Sleep now, and be glad that our pre 
 cious queen sleeps, no more to suffer sin and sor 
 row." 
 
 The prince rode slowly in the mist and rain down 
 the steep and slippery declivity into the town of 
 Heidelberg and out through the gates down the 
 valley Rhinewards. 
 
 A heavy oppression was on his heart, for he was 
 leaving without word or sign to her whose radi 
 ant loveliness and innocent joy he knew to be 
 clouded now with sudden grievous sorrow. He 
 could have tarried yet a few hours, could have seen 
 perhaps and spoken with the Lady Charlotte and 
 told her the grief which his heart held for her in 
 this loss of her " perfect friend " and second mother, 
 for whom, as the elector phrased it, she " so marvel- 
 ously grieved," but he did not trust himself so to 
 do. 
 
 Could he look again into those blue eyes, whether 
 clear as he had seen them or dimmed by tears of 
 poignant sorrow and keep his own secret ? And 
 that secret must be kept at all hazards since his 
 brother's heart had been so unexpectedly revealed 
 to him. What then ? No sacrifice could be over- 
 great for Louis, the loyal, generous brother who 
 would have died for him with a smile on his lips 
 any day, as he well knew. 
 
 Let it pass with other hopes ! Only to have 
 looked into the pure face and pure heart of the 
 Bourbon maiden was a consecration. And what of
 
 379 
 
 this mysterious death of her majesty of Navarre ? 
 What did it portend to his own good cause, the 
 cause of freedom and of the faith ? Over-timely 
 was it for the Catholic party, and if the dark rumor 
 were true concerning the manner of the queen's 
 death, what was the pledged word of Charles and 
 Catharine de Medici worth in his own behalf ? A 
 dark riddle and no answer came that day as the 
 prince rode on his way to join his troops and lead 
 them forward into the Netherlands. 
 
 The summer, however, did not pass without an 
 answer, an answer terrible, appalling, and in a sense 
 final, to all the larger hopes of Christendom forever. 
 
 Having crossed the Rhine early in July, captured 
 Roermond and advanced victoriously through Bra 
 bant, his garrisons received and his authority 
 accepted by the towns through which he passed, the 
 prince hastened on toward Mons to raise the siege 
 and release Count Louis and his gallant Huguenot 
 companions within the beleaguered city. 
 
 On August eleventh, a week before the Paris 
 wedding, he writes to his brother John at Dillen- 
 burg: 
 
 " / must not fail to tell you that to-day I had letters 
 from the admiral (Coligny} informing me that . . . 
 he was levying twelve thousand arquebusiers and three 
 thousand horse, intending to come himself, something 
 that / hope will be a great aid to us. The admiral 
 advises me not to enter lightly into an engagement 
 with the enemy, until by the grace of God we can join 
 our forces. . . We may see how miraculously God de 
 fends our people and makes us hope that, in spite of 
 the malice of our enemies, he will bring our cause to a 
 good and happy end, to the advancement of his glory 
 and the deliverance of so many Christians from unjust 
 oppression." 
 
 The letter of Coligny, alluded to by the prince, 
 was written with the full sanction and approval of
 
 380 
 
 Charles IX., with whom he was apparently high in 
 favor. 
 
 But hardly had Coligny thus written, when it 
 became apparent that the weak and fitful king had 
 already grown cold toward the Flemish project. 
 His mother's influence was at work, for the time 
 was nearly ripe for Catharine de Medici to show 
 her hand. 
 
 The ineffaceable blot on the pages of history 
 which the next fortnight was to bring was not, 
 however, the work of one woman of wicked will 
 alone. The undying shame of it must rest also 
 upon the duplicity, the double-dealing, the cowardly 
 shiftiness of another woman, the Protestant Queen 
 of England. 
 
 While all the forces of Protestantism at that 
 crisis, and even the wavering and selfish Catharine, 
 were looking to Elizabeth for her powerful aid in 
 the struggle against Spain, dark rumors went 
 abroad that the Queen of England was in reality 
 holding a treacherous correspondence with Alva 
 himself, with the intent of seizing the Zeeland city 
 of Flushing, now in the hands of the patriots, and 
 betraying it into the hands of Spain. 
 
 Such rumors as these reaching Catharine de 
 Medici, drove her into a panic. She found herself 
 forced by her own and her son's pledges, to embark, 
 apparently single-handed, on the dangerous enter 
 prise of a war with Spain. England was playing 
 her false. All the Catholic powers would be ar 
 rayed against her, and even the Protestant German 
 princes, aside from the Elector Palatine, being sub 
 ject to the emperor, whose daughter Philip of Spain 
 had now married, had already withdrawn from the 
 Prince of Orange. 
 
 Thus cornered, Catharine saw one speedy, bold, 
 and yet effective means of release. This means 
 she employed, harking back to the bloody councils 
 of Alva at Bayonne, in 1565.
 
 While Louis of Nassau was patiently awaiting 
 release in the city of Mons, and his brother was 
 advancing as rapidly as his ill-disciplined and ill- 
 paid army would permit, eagerly awaiting the 
 coming of Coligny and his force, there fell upon 
 them both, upon the hosts of Protestantism, upon 
 all Europe, the "sledge-hammer blow" of the 
 butchery of St. Bartholomew, under which all 
 Christendom reeled and staggered. 
 
 Coligny would never lead an army against the 
 dark tyranny of Spain. His body, stabbed through 
 the breast, was thrown from an upper window of 
 the house where he lodged into the Rue de Ber- 
 thesy, and for three days that body was dragged 
 through the streets by the canaille of Paris. The 
 head of the noble old Christian warrior, severed 
 from the trunk, was sent to the Cardinal de Lor 
 raine, who chanced to be in Rome. Among the 
 first to fall was the noble lord de Teligny, whose 
 fair young wife, Louise de Coligny, bride of but a 
 year, thus saw her father and her husband perish 
 in a single night. Again and again, it is said, those 
 sent to murder the chivalrous young nobleman, 
 " overcome by compassion for his youth and manly 
 beauty, or by respect for his graceful manners and 
 extraordinary learning," departed, laying no hand 
 upon him. A shot from an arquebus, fired from 
 the street by a guard, struck him down, however, 
 but too speedily. 
 
 Among the bloodiest and most insatiable of the 
 assassins was the Due de Montpensier, and no 
 court lady reveled in the carnival of blood with the 
 wild abandon of his young Wife, Catherine de Lor 
 raine. 
 
 With full effect the unparalleled crime of St. Bar 
 tholomew's Eve, in which all the Huguenot leaders 
 were foully murdered, fell upon the campaign of 
 the Nassaus in the Netherlands. 
 
 " // has pleased God," wrote the prince, " to take
 
 382 
 
 away every hope which we could have founded upon 
 man; the king (Charles IX.) has published that the 
 massacre was by his orders, and has forbidden all his 
 subjects, upon pain of death, to assist me; he has, 
 moreover, sent succour to Alva. Had it not been for 
 this, we had been masters of the duke, and should 
 have made him capitulate at our pleasure." 
 
 The troops of the prince, finding him unsupported 
 and unable to pay them promptly, mutinied and 
 threatened to betray him into the hands of Alva. 
 
 Unsuccessful in his attempt to relieve Mons, 
 where Louis lay confined with fever, the prince 
 was forced to flee for his life, after the rout at Her- 
 migny. Louis, heart-broken at the event of St. 
 Bartholomew, in which scores of his friends perished, 
 was released by Alva after the fall of Mons, for 
 even the Duke's harsh spirit was not proof against 
 the singular charm of the count. He suffered him 
 to be carried back to Dillenburg on a litter, and his 
 fond mother nursed him back to life. 
 
 The prince, meanwhile, retreated to Zwolle, the 
 capital of Overyssel, whence he wrote to his brother 
 John, October eighteenth: "/ have determined to 
 go over to Holland and Zeeland to maintain their in 
 terests, so far as may be possible, purposing there to 
 make my sepulchre." 
 
 The prophecy was of literal fulfillment. Never 
 again did the prince go beyond the borders of the 
 Netherlands. His lot was cast with the land of his 
 adoption from that day until the bitter end. He had 
 seen again a powerful army, raised by incredible 
 sacrifice and personal labor, collapse almost without 
 a blow ; the great combination with the court of 
 France, in wnich he had trusted, and which had 
 been built up by years of negotiation, had been 
 shattered in a single night of treason and horror. 
 Again his powerful friends fell away, and insult and 
 reproach fell thick and fast upon his head. 
 
 Never in the darkest night of his humiliation, in
 
 383 
 
 the year 1568, had the prince known the depth be 
 low the depth of defeat and disappointment which 
 his soul now sounded. He had been a profoundly 
 ambitious man, not unlawfully or wholly selfishly 
 ambitious, but still cherishing ardent hope and de 
 sire to carry out in a brilliant maturity the promise 
 of his brilliant youth. 
 
 But, as heretofore, the prince had been ever 
 greatest when his fortunes were at their lowest, 
 so in this extremity the true grandeur of the man 
 shone forth. 
 
 Stripped finally and forever of the last trappings 
 of worldly splendor, he who had been the cousin of 
 emperors and the comrade of kings, felt at last the 
 great primitive bond of humanity, the sense of the 
 equality of all men before God, and with cheer 
 ful courage and with what one who observed him 
 names "an incredible sweetness," he made com 
 mon cause from this time onward with the simple 
 burghers of Delft and of Dordrecht and the other 
 towns. 
 
 Alone on this his narrow isthmus, the "historic 
 strip of swamp " to which his horizon was now for 
 the time bounded, the prince girded himself for 
 " single combat with the great Spanish monarchy," 
 not for a moment deceived as to the terrible odds 
 against which he must fight. With unfaltering de 
 votion he set himself to the defense of the towns 
 of Holland and Zeeland from the onward march of 
 the now victorious Alva. 
 
 " If he prove too strong for its," he cries in an im 
 passioned letter to the King of Spain, " we will rather 
 die an honorable death and leave a praiseworthy fame, 
 than bend our necks and reduce our dear Fatherland 
 to such slavery. Herein are all our cities pledged to 
 each other to stand every siege, to dare to the utmost, 
 to endure every possible misery, yea, rather to set fire to 
 all our homes and be consumed into ashes together, 
 than ever submit to the decrees of this cruel tyrant.''
 
 3 8 4 
 
 Small wonder that the people to whose cause he 
 thus gave himself "worshiped the prince as if he 
 were their Messiah ! " 
 
 He who had once seen great things for himself 
 saw them now no more ; but his vision, purified in 
 anguish and humiliation, had become clearer and 
 he endured henceforth as seeing the invisible. 
 
 When asked by his despairing officers if he had 
 some secret alliance with great kings or potentates, 
 he replied : 
 
 " When I took in hand the defense of these oppressed 
 provinces, I formed an alliance with the mightiest of all 
 potentates, the King of kings."
 
 XXXIV 
 ROUBICHON ONCE MORE 
 
 IT was 1574, the second year of the War of the 
 Towns. The Duke of Alva had departed from 
 the Provinces forever, deploring bitterly that 
 he had not gained the approbation of his king while 
 he had incurred the malevolence and hatred of 
 every individual in the country. Don Luis de Re- 
 quesens, who had succeeded the bloody duke, found 
 upon his arrival that his most pressing duty was the 
 relief of the besieged city of Middelburg, which alone 
 in the island of Walcheren was still held by Mon- 
 dragon for the King of Spain. For this purpose 
 seventy-five Spanish ships were collected at Bergen 
 op Zoom under command of Julian Romero, while 
 a smaller fleet was assembled at Antwerp under 
 d'Avila. Both fleets were provisioned for the starv 
 ing garrison in Middelburg, and their duty was to 
 effect a junction of forces as speedily as possible. 
 
 The early twilight of a January day was settling 
 over the besieged city. In the old Tontorf mansion 
 in the Lange Delft light already shone from the 
 windows of the great oak-wainscoted room, once 
 known by its owners as the " Gossaert-Saal." 
 
 The portrait of the Master of the Rolls, Adolf 
 Hardinck, once the glory of the place, had disap 
 peared, having been destroyed by the Spaniards, 
 and with it the other portraits, the finely carved 
 cabinets, the plate and crystal which adorned the 
 room. The massive table, however, which still 
 held the central space, was the one at which Niko- 
 laas Tontorf, nine years ago sat with wife and 
 children around him : and in the place of the master- 
 
 z 385
 
 386 
 
 printer, yes in his very chair, sat the Spanish vet 
 eran Mondragon, who stoutly defended the city 
 against the besieging Beggar forces that surrounded 
 it by land and sea. 
 
 A great fire roared up Nikolaas Tontorf 's hospita 
 ble chimney giving an aspect of cheer to the other 
 wise dreary room which, littered with officers' ac 
 coutrements, pieces of armor, pistols, arquebuses, 
 and piles of dispatches, had little left of the stately 
 beauty, the shining cleanliness, and exquisite order 
 which belonged to it in the lifetime of Wendel- 
 mutha Tontorf. 
 
 Mondragon, a careworn, grizzled warrior, of coun 
 tenance severe and fiery glance, looked up from 
 the letter he was writing with a rapid hand and 
 mouth hard set. A young officer, whose uniform 
 hung loosely on his lean shrunken frame and whose 
 famished eyes looked out mournfully from their 
 bony sockets had entered the room. 
 
 "What is it, captain?" Mondragon asked, im 
 patient of interruption. 
 
 " Your pardon, your excellency, but a sailor has 
 made his way through the enemy's lines," replied 
 the younger man. 
 
 " Whence comes he ? " 
 
 " According to his story, from the fleet of General 
 d'Avila." 
 
 " Hah ! is it so ? " exclaimed Mondragon, starting 
 to his feet. " Is it then confirmed that the ships 
 seen off Flushing are Spanish ? " 
 
 "Yes, your excellency. We have received sig~ 
 nals which we believe unmistakable." 
 
 The old warrior's face brightened. " Call the 
 fellow in instantly, Trenchart ! " he cried. 
 
 In another moment there stood before the Span 
 ish general a tall, sinewy sailor in Spanish uniform, 
 gaunt-eyed and brown indeed as a Spaniard, with 
 cheeks as hollow as Trenchart's and heavy browr* 
 beard and moustachios.
 
 387 
 
 " Your name, sir ? " demanded Mondragon, fixing 
 his fiery eyes full upon the stranger. 
 
 " Roubichon, excellency." 
 
 " You come from the fleet of d'Avila ? " 
 
 The reply was a brief, respectful bow. 
 
 " At your service, excellency." 
 
 " What are your credentials ? " 
 
 " Nothing save the dangers 1 have faced to come 
 hither. I was dared to do it by my shipmates, and 
 believed his excellency would honor my effort with 
 his confidence, and permit me to serve him." 
 
 Looking sternly at the speaker, something in the 
 sturdy manliness of his bearing seemed to satisfy 
 the veteran. With a sound between a growl and 
 a greeting he proceeded with his questions. 
 
 " How many ships do you number ? " 
 
 " Five and twenty." 
 
 " That is well. We had counted but a score. 
 With what purpose do they lie off Flushing ? " 
 
 "To learn how much longer your garrison can 
 stand the siege." 
 
 Mondragon laughed shortly. 
 
 " Tell your master that he can perhaps reckon 
 for himself. The death rate among my men from 
 starvation is twenty a day." 
 
 " I will tell my master." 
 
 " In the month since Christmas a thousand souls 
 have perished within these walls. Our daily fare 
 is linseed husks with an occasional ragout of mice 
 or dog-flesh. Tell your master I invite him to keep 
 the feast of St. Blasius with me. I can perhaps 
 make shift to dine him on a young kitten or a well- 
 fed rat if it suits his stomach." 
 
 Roubichon did not reply at once. His eyes had 
 strayed momentarily from the face of the old gen 
 eral and in that one instant had swept the room 
 with a glance of devouring eagerness. With a cu 
 rious thickness in his utterance he said : 
 
 " My master, the Senor d'Avila, fearing that you
 
 388 
 
 must be in extremity says that if he cannot effect 
 a union with the fleet of Romero in a few days he 
 would beg to advise that you capitulate." 
 
 The old man's face grew grim. 
 
 " Where is Romero ? know you ? " 
 
 " Nay, excellency, that is what above all things 
 my master desires most to know. If they can meet, 
 a bold blow can be struck, and will be speedily. 
 Of that he begs you to rest assured." 
 
 "Meanwhile, what can d'Avila do for us ? Has 
 he strength enough to force passage through the 
 Beggar fleet ? " 
 
 "Nay, excellency. What are five and twenty 
 ships when it comes to meeting those devils ? " 
 
 " True," said Mondragon, nodding thoughtfully. 
 
 After a moment's reflection he spoke again. 
 
 "Well, my brave fellow," he said, "it is at 
 least something to know that our fellow-soldiers 
 have a heart to come to our defense. Your com 
 ing is welcome, and also timely, since I was about 
 dispatching this letter," and he pointed to the sheet 
 on the table beside him, "and dreaded to send one 
 of my poor famished fellows on so perilous an 
 errand as to take it through the enemy's lines." 
 
 " I can take it to my master in brief time, senor, 
 and will do it gladly." 
 
 " How will you make your way through the 
 lines ? " 
 
 "As I came; swimming where there is water, 
 running where there is land, fighting where there 
 is need of it." 
 
 A sombre smile relaxed the features of the soldier. 
 
 " Well answered," he said grimly. Turning 
 then to Trenchart, who had stood in silence at the 
 closed door throughout the interview, he said : 
 
 " Send in some of our famine fare for this brave 
 fellow, captain," and as Trenchart left the room, he 
 added : 
 
 "We have an old Dutch woman who seems to
 
 belong to the house to cook for our staff. She can 
 make a very fair mess of a haunch of dog or cat on 
 occasion. We will share what we have with you, 
 sir. Pray be seated." 
 
 A moment later Trenchart re-entered the room 
 closely followed by a tidy old woman in white cap 
 and apron, bearing a tray of food. 
 
 In the wrinkled visage of this woman Norbert 
 Tontorf at once, with a wild throb of his heart, 
 recognized Hendrika, the old family servant of his 
 father's house. 
 
 In another instant he grew calm for well he knew 
 that in his present self the faithful soul could never 
 recognize the blithe, blonde, ruddy-cheeked Dutch 
 lad, once her pride and darling. 
 
 Without even looking at him, moving with a curi 
 ous mechanical submissiveness, Hendrika placed 
 the food before him, and was about to withdraw 
 when Mondragon signalled to her to wait. 
 
 "Will you have wine or spirits, my man ? " he 
 asked with gruff kindliness. " I have still some 
 thing left of my private store." 
 
 " Neither, thank you, excellency." 
 
 Norbert's back was turned toward Hendrika. 
 She could not see his face, and all the more for 
 that reason the sound of his voice broke on her ears 
 with startling effect. 
 
 Clasping her hands together in a wild gesture of 
 amazed recognition, she darted forward, fixed her 
 eyes on his averted face and then, seeing in it for all 
 its ruggedness some witness to his identity which 
 only a loving heart could have found, and forgetting 
 all else in her joy she threw herself on her knees 
 before him, crying out : 
 
 "Oh, Master Norbert, it is yourself, come back 
 again to your old home and poor old Hendrika after 
 all these weary years ! " 
 
 Looking up at the old general with the familiarity 
 of her senile weakness, she added with tears :
 
 390 
 
 " I have held him on my bosom, your excellency, 
 when he was but a babe, in this very room ! " 
 
 Norbert, white through his sunburned skin, rose 
 and lifted the poor woman gently to her feet. 
 
 Mondragon had risen also. 
 
 "What means this, sir?" he asked sternly. 
 " A son of this house is no Spaniard, nor even a 
 Clipper. So much I know. Trenchart, call up 
 your men. Methinks our good Hendrika has un 
 masked a spy." 
 
 Trenchart left the room on the instant. 
 
 "Pardon me, your excellency, but a moment," 
 said Norbert quietly. " Hendrika," turning to the 
 trembling and bewildered creature, " we will meet 
 again ; but now this gentleman and I have matters 
 of importance to discuss." 
 
 Taking her hand then, while Mondragon gazed 
 in mute amazement, he led her gently to the door, 
 and having dismissed her with a smile, turned and 
 faced the Spanish general. 
 
 "Excellency, I am your prisoner," he said then. 
 
 Marveling much at his composure and the firm 
 ness of his bearing, Mondragon exclaimed : 
 
 " By our Lady, then, who is our prisoner, who 
 wears a Spanish uniform, bears a French name, 
 and seems to have been born a Dutchman ? " 
 
 " Your excellency," Norbert said, almost as if re 
 lieved to speak at last in his true character, " I was 
 born indeed, in this very house, and grew up at this 
 very fireside," and he pointed to the still glow 
 ing chimney. " From this house my father, my 
 mother, and my young sister were led to cruel 
 death at the hands of traitors, and this, which was 
 aforetime the happiest home in all Zeeland, was lost 
 to me forever. If I have come back here to die I can 
 at least say that there is no spot on earth where I 
 would sooner die," and he folded his arms across 
 his breast, and with mouth firm set and steadfast 
 look faced the Spanish general.
 
 " Small doubt about your dying," said Mondragon 
 grimly. "We give but short shrift to spies, my 
 man, however cleverly they play their parts." 
 
 At a signal from Trenchart several soldiers at 
 once entered the room, and without further parley 
 Norbert found himself hurried through the familiar 
 hall into the courtyard. Crossing this, his captors 
 drew him into the loggia, where stood Hendrika 
 herself beating her breast and crying aloud at the 
 fate she had brought upon the son of her beloved 
 master. 
 
 Norbert had only time for a look at the broken 
 hearted woman, but it was a look in which affection 
 was clouded by no reproach. He had not learned 
 in the school of William the Silent all these years 
 in vain. 
 
 With rude urgency Norbert was now led down 
 the lowest stairway and thrust into the windowless 
 subterranean room which had served as the secret 
 printing room of Nikolaas Tontorf. 
 
 Having searched him for weapons and money, 
 and stripped him of both with many curses, the 
 soldiers told him that the general had said since he 
 was fain to die in his old home he would grant him 
 the privilege by means of a length of good hemp 
 rope at sunrise. 
 
 With this grim sentence, they closed and bolted 
 the heavy door. 
 
 Norbert groped his way about the well-remem 
 bered chamber with strangely mingled feelings. 
 The presses, rough with rust and dust-covered, 
 stood in their former places. Save for them the 
 room was empty. Doubtless it was used ROW 
 solely as a prison. 
 
 How often in his far-off, happy boyhood had he 
 worked at those same presses by his father's side, 
 turning out the pages of the coveted Bibles in the 
 long night watches ! And now he stood again 
 within those heavy walls, alone save for memories,
 
 under sure sentence of immediate death, a storm- 
 tested, weary, and yet undaunted man. 
 
 The slow hours passed. No sound broke the 
 breathless hush of the place save the monotonous 
 tread of the soldier on guard before his door. 
 
 A muffled sound of voices indicated when the 
 watch was changed, and Norbert believed this to 
 mark the hour of midnight. Waiting until all was 
 still again save for the steady pacing of the guard, 
 he groped his way along the wall as he had already 
 done before in the darkness, until his finger touched 
 the secret spring in the invisible panel, known now, 
 as he believed, to no living soul on earth save him 
 self. 
 
 Instantly the panel slipped aside and access was 
 laid open to the hidden repository of Nikolaas 
 Tontorf's work. The sliding shelves Norbert found 
 to be still heavily loaded with books, doubtless ex 
 actly as his father had piled them there at the close 
 of his last night's work. Strange, hidden, and yet 
 eloquent monument to the persistent devotion of 
 the man ! 
 
 Norbert felt the ropes. He shook them softly. 
 They were firm and stout as ever, for all the silent 
 years in which they had hung useless. Yes, he 
 could dare trust himself to them. He entered and 
 touched the panel behind him, which slipped back 
 at once to its proper place with a soft click of the 
 spring. Then, sailor fashion, Norbert climbed by 
 the ropes to the closet above, and, down on his 
 hands and knees, he felt for the spring which should 
 release him from his prison, though it might be into 
 yet more imminent peril. 
 
 Having found the spring, he realized what, for the 
 time being, he had forgotten, that it must be ma 
 nipulated from without. No pressure from within 
 could serve to stir it a hair's breadth. 
 
 The perspiration broke forth in cold drops on 
 Norbert's forehead. Had he escaped the hands
 
 393 
 
 of the Spaniards but to bury himself in a living 
 tomb? 
 
 It could not be. From the inner lining of his 
 doublet he drew out a stout knife which had escaped 
 the vigilance of the soldiers. Down on his knees 
 again he found the small metal bar of the spring 
 and began the process of sawing it in twain. 
 
 A long process it proved to be and full of inde 
 scribable suspense, since any moment might reveal 
 to the man on guard below that his cell was empty 
 and an alarm be given. The sickening, mouldy va 
 pors in the narrow, stifling closet, the blackness of 
 darkness in which he was enshrouded, added to the 
 overpowering difficulty of his task. 
 
 His brain grew dizzy, breathing became well-nigh 
 impossible, death itself seemed welcome and no 
 longer to be fought, when in some far corner of his 
 brain a sweet, gay voice seemed to sing: 
 
 " If my lover gentle prove, 
 
 Knightly, brave, and true to love, 
 Slave and servant will I be ; 
 Tell me, tell me, am 1 true?" 
 
 "Yes, Jeanne," he murmured, in a choking 
 whisper, "your lover will hold himself brave and 
 knightly for your sweet sake." 
 
 In another five minutes the knife fell from his 
 benumbed hand, but it had done its work, the 
 spring was severed. 
 
 Noiselessly the panel slid aside, and Norbert, 
 slipping behind a chest, was at once within what 
 had been the inner room of his father's private 
 office. It was dark, but in the chamber beyond, on 
 a small table, a candle was burning. The room 
 had been turned into an officer's bedchamber. The 
 officer, who lay heavily asleep on the narrow iron 
 bed, was Captain Trenchart. His broad, slouched 
 hat and long military mantle were thrown carelessly 
 upon a chair.
 
 Catching up these, Norbert strode across the 
 room so lightly that not a board creaked, opened 
 the door, and wrapping himself hastily in the man 
 tle, and placing the hat well over his forehead, he 
 crossed the loggia and entered the great courtyard. 
 
 Directing his steps without a moment's delay to the 
 vaulted entrance at the side, he strode imperiously 
 past the sleepy guard with a muttered word under 
 his breath, which might or might not have resem 
 bled the countersign for the night, but which the 
 guard was plainly too indifferent and too accus 
 tomed to midnight sallies of the young Spanish 
 officers to care to challenge. 
 
 In another moment Norbert had reached the 
 Lange Delft, and now his knowledge of his own 
 native town stood him in good stead. An old, dis 
 used canal bed, covered now by streets, led from 
 the Lange Delft straight to the city moat. It 
 had been the favorite haunt of his adventurous 
 boyhood. Diving into its unused recesses, which 
 had apparently been forgotten by the people of 
 Middelburg since he encountered in them no sign 
 of life, Norbert soon made his way to the moat at 
 a point where, below the city wall, no guard was 
 stationed. 
 
 Without a moment's hesitation he plunged into 
 the icy waters of the canal and swam, unseen, to 
 the opposite side. A rapid run of a few miles along 
 the dikes brought him safely within the patriot lines, 
 which he reached exhausted, but triumphant. 
 
 On the following day, being the nineteenth day 
 of January, Norbert presented himself before the 
 prince, who was at Zierikzee, directing the opera 
 tions of the siege of Aliddelburg. 
 
 The prince inquired eagerly as to the results of 
 the perilous mission which the young man had 
 voluntarily undertaken in order to learn the true 
 strength and condition of the Spanish garrison. 
 
 " The townspeople and soldiers are alike fam-
 
 395 
 
 ishing, but five-and-twenty Spanish ships, under 
 d'Avila, lie off Flushing, ready to join the fleet of 
 Romero at the first possible moment. They will 
 then be a hundred ships strong, and if they succeed 
 in carrying through their cargoes of provision, Mid- 
 delburg will be lost. Mondragon is as brave as a 
 lion, and although his men are dying a score a day, 
 he will hold out while there is hope of relief. We 
 Dutch are not alone in our ability to stand these 
 bitter sieges." 
 
 Such was the substance of Norbert's report. 
 
 The fleet of Romero, heavily freighted with pro 
 visions, still lay in the harbor of Bergen op Zoom. 
 
 At the direction of the prince, the Beggar fleet, 
 under Admiral Boisot, at once moved up the East 
 Scheldt and took its position nearly opposite Bergen, 
 whereupon the prince himself, putting out from 
 Zierikzee in his own galley, assembled the officers 
 and men of his armada and adjured them with all 
 the fervor and eloquence of which he was master 
 not to permit Middelburg, the key to all Zeeland, 
 and even now on the point of yielding to the patriot 
 forces, to be wrested from their grasp. 
 
 The response was a burst of wild cheering. On 
 the sea, if not on the land, the Beggars felt them 
 selves master. With one accord officers and men 
 declared themselves ready to shed every drop of 
 blood in their veins for the prince and the Father 
 land. 
 
 Then followed the fierce naval battle of Bergen, 
 in which the Beggars grappled the Spanish ships to 
 their own in the narrow channel and fought with 
 wild and desperate courage with battle-axes, pikes, 
 pistols, and daggers, giving no quarter and asking 
 none, casting every prisoner forthwith into the sea, 
 until twelve hundred Spanish soldiers slain and 
 fifteen ships captured, the enemy knew themselves 
 beaten and retreated into the friendly port of Ber 
 gen.
 
 396 
 
 Then from the wet and slippery decks of the 
 victorious fleet with wild and terrible melody rose 
 the Beggars' song, and filled sea and sky with its 
 thrilling echoes : 
 
 " The Spanish Inquisition has God's malediction, 
 
 The Spanish Inquisition of blood-drinkers' fame ! 
 
 The Spanish Inquisition will find a meet conviction, 
 
 The Spanish Inquisition has played out its game ! 
 
 " Long live the Beggars ! Christians, ye must cry, 
 
 Long live the Beggars ! Pluck up courage then, 
 Long live the Beggars ! If you would not die, 
 Long live the Beggars ! shout ye Christian men ! " 
 
 Back to Antwerp d'Avila, hearing of the fate of 
 his countrymen, brought his fleet with hot haste, 
 while Romero coolly confessing that he was " a 
 land-fighter and no sailor," made good his way to 
 Brussels, both commanders acknowledging that the 
 city of Middelburg must be abandoned to its fate. 
 
 Further struggle was plainly useless and on the 
 eighteenth of February the prince received the 
 articles of capitulation from Mondragon, to whom 
 he granted honorable conditions, permitting him 
 and his troops to leave the place with their arms, 
 ammunition, and personal property. 
 
 "The capitulation of the fiery Mondragon, and 
 the capture of Middelburg," says the brilliant 
 English biographer 1 of the prince, "marked the 
 epoch when the Spaniard was forced to recognize 
 the Hollanders as 'belligerents,' not as rebels, and 
 the prince as their lawful stadtholder, and not a 
 proscribed outlaw." 
 
 The citizens of Middelburg, glad to shake off the 
 Spanish yoke to which they had so long ignomin- 
 iously submitted, took the oath of fidelity to the 
 prince as stadtholder, and from this day returned 
 loyally and with undivided hearts to their patriotic 
 allegiance. 
 
 1 Frederic Harrison.
 
 397 
 
 The first man to enter the now deserted house in 
 the Lange Delft on that February day was Norbert 
 Tontorf. Within the beautiful portico he was met 
 by the new burgomaster, the Syndic Heldring, who 
 placed the key of his father's house in Norbert's 
 hands. 
 
 "It is the wish of the town council, worthy 
 Mijnheer Tontorf," said the burgomaster with grave 
 ceremony, "that the house of your father, which 
 has by the surrender of the Spaniards become the 
 property of the city of Middelburg, should by it be 
 presented to your father's son in token of the good 
 service rendered by you in the release of our fair 
 city from the Spanish yoke, and in everlasting 
 memorial to the virtues and patriotic services of 
 Nikolaas Tontorf." 
 
 Deeply moved, so that words of reply failed to 
 come at his bidding, Norbert received the noble 
 gift. 
 
 Then, when he found himself left alone as he 
 supposed in his father's house, a sob in the dark 
 recesses of the corridor called Norbert's attention 
 to the weeping Hendrika. She was lurking in the 
 background, awaiting opportunity to implore par 
 don for her innocent betrayal of her young master 
 to Mondragon. 
 
 " Not a word, not a word, Hendrika ! " com 
 manded Norbert imperiously, concealing his own 
 emotion; "since the end is glorious all is well. 
 It is for you now to bring the dear old home aspect 
 back to this dismal barrack. Stop your tears and 
 get to work." 
 
 A few days thereafter, the prince having arrived, 
 and having in person restored to the inhabitants of 
 Middelburg their ancient charter, or Keitre, and the 
 whole city being wild with rejoicing, another scene 
 of a character not wholly different was enacted in 
 the house in the Lange Delft. 
 
 In the Gossaert-Saal, on his own beloved hearth-
 
 398 
 
 stone, stood Norbert Tontorf, not flushed with 
 triumph, but bearing himself with the humility and 
 gravity which became the son of a line of martyrs, 
 led to martyrdom from that very spot. Before him 
 stood the Prince of Orange, his liege lord and be 
 loved master. 
 
 "This house," said Norbert, with difficulty com 
 manding his voice, for poignant memories in that 
 moment crowded thick and fast upon him, " my 
 father's house, my lord, and my grandfather's, has, 
 by the good will of the city of Middelburg, been 
 given back to me. Shall I have a home like this 
 when my master is without a home ? Greatly 
 should I shame me to hold as my own such a posses 
 sion. It is no prince's palace, but a plain burgher's 
 house, but such as it is, freely as it was given to 
 me, I give it herewith to you, whose service is 
 dearer to me than my own life, praying that you 
 will deign so to honor my father's name as to re 
 ceive it." 
 
 With tears in his eyes the lonely prince clasped 
 Norbert's hands. There remained to him that day 
 indeed, of all his vast possessions and ancestral 
 palaces in the Netherlands, not so much as a single 
 roof which he could claim for his own use. 
 
 "This house, Tontorf," he said, "is a sacred 
 place. With a reverence and gratitude for which 
 I can find no words, I accept it from your hands as 
 my dwelling-place, my home in Zeeland. Not with 
 out compensation, however, shall it pass to me 
 from the hands of its devoted, heroic owner, and 
 not without the condition that it shall remain the 
 home also of the son of Nikolaas Tontorf."
 
 XXXV 
 
 THE LONELIEST MAN IN EUROPE 
 
 and terrible sixteenth century in which 
 the human spirit, so long slumbering and 
 enslaved, awoke to its sublime though awful 
 destiny of freedom and self-direction ! 
 
 Few indeed were the spirits, noble and ardent, 
 which, reaching in its tragic course to heroic height 
 and spiritual greatness, were suffered to live out 
 their appointed time ! 
 
 "All the country is longing for you as for the Angel 
 Gabriel " ; so wrote the prince to his brother Louis, 
 "his sword, his mouthpiece, his pride." 
 
 Two months had passed since the capitulation of 
 Middelburg. Leyden was closely besieged by the 
 Spaniards, and from the east the gallant Louis, with 
 health restored and his old unconquerable, buoyant 
 courage, was leading a small army to join the forces 
 of the prince in the neighborhood of Delft, whence 
 together they would march to the relief of Leyden. 
 With Louis at the head of the reinforcements were 
 his brothers John and Henry, of Nassau, and Duke 
 Christoph, son of the Elector Palatine ; the two 
 latter youthful knights of two and three and twenty. 
 
 Thus the four Nassau brothers were now together 
 in the field, fighting for the freedom of the Nether 
 lands. 
 
 The days of April passed and the prince, from 
 his camp on an island between the Waal and the 
 Meuse, waited and watched with indescribable 
 eagerness for the coming of his brothers. 
 
 ' ' Let me know when you plan to cross the river, 
 he writes, " so that I can meet you." 
 
 399
 
 400 
 
 Then, having heard rumors of an engagement 
 with the Spaniards, the following day : 
 
 " / beg you to let me know who of yours are left on 
 the field or wounded. . . My regards to the Duke 
 Christoph and my brothers." 
 
 Three days passed without tidings and on April 
 twenty-first the prince writes in deepest anxiety 
 and dread : 
 
 My Brothers: Being in the greatest trouble in the 
 world at having had no answer from you to the seven 
 letters I have written since the loth, I have decided to 
 send you this messenger. . . Only let me hear your 
 condition." 
 
 No answer ever came. 
 
 The river had been crossed, the battle had been 
 fought, and on the field it was the heroic Louis of 
 Nassau, his brother Henry, and the young Count 
 Palatine who were left dead in the trampled and 
 blood-red marshes of Mook Heath, of whose tragedy 
 the heavens themselves had given fearful portent. 
 
 In a suspense which was like slow death to him 
 the prince, broken-hearted at last, struggled on. 
 For a time both the households of the elector at 
 Heidelberg and of the Nassaus at Dillenburg re 
 fused to believe that their young heroes were slain, 
 since their bodies were never found. 
 
 Two months after the battle of Mook Heath, a 
 piteous wail comes from the aged Countess Juliana 
 of Nassau, that she can still learn nothing of their 
 fate. Two only of her noble band of sons, William 
 and John, were left her now. 
 
 At Heidelberg the summer, heavy with suspense, 
 wore slowly away. 
 
 On an August morning Charlotte de Bourbon, 
 with the Electress Amalie leaning on her arm, was 
 walking on the great terrace of the castle before the 
 ancient chapel of Saint Udalrich. From the Glock- 
 enthurm, looming to the east of the terrace through-
 
 the silvery morning mist, could be heard the sound 
 of the great castle bell, slow tolling. At the feet of 
 the Jettenbuhl, the crag which descends sheer from 
 the terrace wall, the quaint, gabled roofs of the old 
 town rose through thick masses of greenery, but 
 the lovely Neckar valley and the mountains of the 
 Odenwald were hid from view in a misty curtain. 
 
 The face of the electress was careworn and anx 
 ious while that of Mademoiselle also bore the stamp 
 of the sorrows which the last two years had brought 
 her in the death of Jeanne d'Albret and the mani 
 fold murders of St. Bartholomew. As the Princess 
 Amalie listened to the mournful funeral bell quiet 
 tears were falling unheeded down her cheeks. " My 
 lord has given the word at last," she murmured. 
 " Even he has abandoned hope. Our gallant Chris- 
 toph will never come back to us." 
 
 Charlotte could not command her voice for a lit 
 tle space, but in a moment she said softly : 
 
 " Ah, dearest friend, never have I seen a grief 
 more nobly borne than that of the elector." 
 
 "Yes, Charlotte," returned madame, "though 
 he has aged full fast under it. He has gone alone 
 now into the chapel to pray for submission to the 
 good will of God." 
 
 Bending her head Amalie's lips moved in silent 
 prayer. As the two stood with bowed heads and 
 folded hands, the Elector Friedrichand his daughter 
 Kunigunde joined them, coming from the chapel. 
 
 The bell ceased tolling and with trembling lips 
 the young girl murmured : 
 
 " Christoph loved the prospect from this terrace 
 more than all else in Heidelberg, father. How 
 often I have seen him leaning on this wall at even 
 tide " and her voice choked with sobs. 
 
 "Be of good courage, children," said the deep, 
 steady voice of the white-haired elector ; "the lad 
 is dead, but he died on the bed of honor. I shall 
 go to him, but he will not return to me. Glad am I 
 
 2A
 
 402 
 
 that he fell In the cause of God ! Let us not think 
 of him alone, or solely of our own sorrow. Think 
 too, of his noble companions, of Count Louis, in 
 whom our prince has lost his very right hand, and 
 of the boy Heinrich, his grand old mother's pride 
 and darling, so young, so pure in life and heart." 
 
 A strange, unearthly calmness was in the quiet 
 words, a calmness new won in solitary prayer, the 
 calmness of him who " best can drink his cup of 
 woe, triumphant over pain." 
 
 " In truth," said Amalie, " I fear me the mourn 
 ing in Dillenburg is yet sorer than here to-day. The 
 Countess Juliana has had sorrow upon sorrow." 
 
 "Let us go to my cabinet, dear wife," said the 
 elector, taking her hand, his brave eyes dim ; " let 
 us together write a letter to the countess that we 
 may share our mutual sorrow, and the comfort of 
 our God." 
 
 Together the princely pair with slow steps en 
 tered the castle and Charlotte was left to soothe 
 the sobbing girl, Kunigunde, as her loving nature 
 gave her a rare power to do. 
 
 Then Jeanne de Mousson appearing upon the 
 terrace a letter in her 'hand, her face seeming to 
 speak of new trouble, Kunigunde hastened away 
 to hide her tear-stained face. 
 
 "What is it, Jeanne ?" asked Charlotte anx 
 iously. " From whom is your letter ? " 
 
 " From Captain Tontorf." 
 
 " The captain is a faithful correspondent, Jeanne," 
 returned Charlotte, to whom Jeanne's great secret 
 still remained untold. " What news does he give ? 
 How is the prince bearing this latest blow ? " 
 
 " Mademoiselle, I fear me that even his endur 
 ance has failed. Captain Tontorf says he has 
 borne himself for the past month like a man be 
 numbed by despair, in a silent, grim agony which 
 has been terrible to see. 'None the less,' " and 
 she lifted the letter and read, "'my lord has
 
 403 
 
 worked on, never stopping to rest, hardly daring 
 methinks to pause lest he could never begin again. 
 Day and night he has fought for the relief of Ley- 
 den. We are in camp between Rotterdam and 
 Delft. I write in my tent. A little more than two 
 weeks ago his highness went with Paul Buys to 
 Capelle and directed the piercing of the great outer 
 dyke in sixteen places, for he is determined to 
 drive out the Spaniards around Leyden by letting 
 in the sea. The good people who will lose all say, 
 "Better a drowned land than a lost land," and so 
 the deed is done. God give it success, for it is 
 the last hope for Leyden.! 
 
 " ' But success will mean little to Holland if it 
 must lose its leader,' " Jeanne read on ; " ' even the 
 prince is human, and grief, anxiety, and exposure 
 in the flooded fields have done their work. A 
 violent fever has attacked him and he lies for the 
 most part unconscious, wakening only to dispatch 
 a messenger to bid them of Leyden hold out yet a 
 little longer, and then sinking again into stupor. 
 It has gone abroad in the camp that his is no simple 
 intermittent fever, as was at first supposed, but the 
 pest itself, and hardly can Brunynck and I find 
 them who will come near his tent for terror of their 
 poor lives.' " 
 
 Charlotte had changed color, and her look be 
 trayed deep agitation as she held out her hand and 
 murmured : 
 
 " Let me see the letter." 
 
 Silently Jeanne handed it to her, but a singular 
 confusion and trepidation were visible in her face as 
 she watched that of her lady. 
 
 In another moment, with a swift movement of 
 amazement Charlotte looked up, and pointing to 
 the head of the letter cried under her breath : 
 
 " Jeanne, what does this mean ? Tell me in 
 stantly ! This letter from Captain Tontorf to you, 
 Jeanne de Mousson, begins, ' My wife ' ! "
 
 404 
 
 "And if it is true, dearest lady," said Jeanne, 
 facing Charlotte with firm, fearless look, " it is for 
 your own dear sake that I became the wife of Cap 
 tain Tontorf, and for your dear sake that I have 
 withheld from you the knowledge of it, lest you 
 should send me from your side while yet you 
 needed your poor Jeanne ! Even so you sent 
 Jeannette Vassetz back to France when she con 
 fessed that the Sieur George d'Averly had won her 
 heart. Do you think I would have my dearest 
 lady left alone ?" 
 
 With which Jeanne, womanlike, burst into a fit 
 of hearty and honest crying. 
 
 Then the whole story, short, brave, and simple as 
 it was, was told, and Charlotte de Bourbon knew 
 as she had never known before what the love of 
 the Gascon maiden for her signified in its self-sac 
 rificing strength. 
 
 " Your promise to Captain Tontorf," said Made 
 moiselle, as they sat awhile later confronting each 
 other with flushed cheeks and tear-dimmed eyes in 
 her boudoir whither they had betaken themselves, 
 " your promise, Jeanne, bound your husband not 
 to claim you until Charlotte de Bourbon bade him 
 so to do ? " 
 
 " Yes, my lady," and Jeanne bent her head, her 
 dark eyes downcast. 
 
 "Do you love your husband, Jeanne ?" The 
 question was asked in the softest of whispers, and 
 the lips that spoke trembled. 
 
 Jeanne lifted her eyes then and looking straight 
 into her lady's face threw herself upon her breast, 
 her face hidden there. 
 
 " Oh, I do love him, my lady," she sobbed out, 
 " I cannot, cannot help it ! I have loved him since 
 the first day that ever I saw him there on our river 
 at home. Forgive me that I do ! I will never leave 
 you to go to him, unless you bid me, and he knows 
 I never will. He is too brave and true to ask me."
 
 405 
 
 " But what if I should bid you go to him now, 
 this very day ? Would you be glad or sorry ? or 
 would you be afraid of a camp of soldiers and a 
 sick man from whom his craven servants flee ? " 
 and Charlotte's gentle lips curled with irrepressible 
 scorn. 
 
 " Would I be afraid ? " 
 
 The Bearnaise had sprung to her feet, her eyes 
 flashing through their tears. 
 
 " Try me and see ! " she cried. " Bid me go 
 and I will show the men who dare to weigh their 
 lives in the balance against the life of the saviour 
 of the Netherlands, that a woman dares more than 
 they ! Together my Tontorf and I will minister to 
 the needs of his highness, and if a woman's wit and 
 a woman's nursing can win him back to life, he 
 shall live ! " 
 
 " Then go, Jeanne," said her lady quietly. " Do 
 not let us waste an hour in needless parley. Take 
 with you the aunt of Jacqueline, Vrouw Van Marie, 
 for a companion, and I will beg the elector to furnish 
 you with a goodly escort. By the grace of God you 
 are a married woman, and a married woman can 
 go anywhere. But for good speed's sake and 
 greater safety, Jeanne, keep your veil drawn, and 
 hide those eyes of yours as much as you may." 
 
 " I might wear the costume in which I took my 
 wedding journey," replied Jeanne demurely, " I 
 think that would make me perfectly safe." 
 
 "And Jeanne," added her lady, a soft color ris 
 ing in her cheeks, " will you tell the prince, when 
 he is better, that he is not alone, not wholly bereft 
 and forsaken that he has friends in Heidelberg 
 who pray for him, who never, never forget ? " 
 
 " Yes, my lady, I will tell him."
 
 XXXVI 
 
 THE PRINCE CONVERSES WITH HIS CAPTAIN'S 
 BRIDE 
 
 " T 1[ THERE is that glorious Gascon girl, with the 
 Y Y eyes ? " asked the prince dreamily. 
 Weeks had passed. 
 
 They had brought him in his extremity of weak 
 ness to Delft, believing that the air and the better 
 comforts possible there would hasten his recovery. 
 He lay now in a cool, shaded chamber in the old 
 convent of Saint Agatha, always his abode when 
 in Delft, and beside him sat Norbert Tontorf. 
 
 The prince was emaciated to a degree from the 
 fever and from their hollow sockets the large brown 
 eyes, dull and lusterless now, looked out with the 
 peculiar pathetic appeal of extreme exhaustion. 
 
 "She is coming even now, your highness," said 
 Norbert gently. 
 
 A door was opened at the far end of the room 
 and with noiseless steps Jeanne de Mousson entered 
 bearing a tray on which was a bowl of broth for 
 the sick man. She wore a simple gown of a deep 
 blue color with dainty ruffles of white needlework 
 around the open throat and at the wrists ; a trim 
 black satin bodice set off the pliant grace of her 
 shape, and her brown hair was rolled in burnished 
 waves from her low forehead. Norbert watched 
 her with a sudden exultation that her bright, girlish 
 beauty was released at last from the hard, conven 
 tual disguise and concealment. 
 
 As she stood by the side of the prince's couch, 
 Jeanne's rich and brilliant bloom was fairly star 
 tling in contrast with the deathlike pallor of his face. 
 406
 
 407 
 
 Lifting his eyes weakly the prince smiled at the 
 sight of so much loveliness, and took the nourish 
 ment she carefully administered without a word. 
 
 Then as Jeanne turned to leave the bedside the 
 prince caught her hand in his feeble grasp and mur 
 mured : 
 
 "Who are you, my child? and how came you 
 here?" 
 
 Hitherto he had been too weak and his thoughts 
 too confused by his malady to care to ask a ques 
 tion save for the city of Leyden, the one never- 
 changing anxiety which even the shadow of death 
 could not abate. 
 
 At the question Jeanne's cheeks grew yet rosier 
 and she glanced shyly at Norbert, who at once ap 
 proaching the side of the prince and taking her 
 hand in his, said quietly : 
 
 " She is my wife, if it please your highness, for 
 merly the demoiselle de Mousson, who came from 
 the Abbey of Jouarre with the Princess de Bour 
 bon. We were married more than two years since, 
 but the lady's duty to the princess has kept us 
 hitherto apart." 
 
 A spark of light kindled in the hollow eyes of 
 the prince and the sorrowful lines about the mouth 
 relaxed. 
 
 "By my faith, Tontorf," he murmured with a 
 touch of his natural animation, " it is something 
 late to say, if it please me ! I had thought I had 
 given you work enough to have kept you out of 
 mischief." 
 
 " We took brief time for our wooing and wedding, 
 my lord," said Norbert laughing, " and until the 
 lady appeared in camp the other night, and my 
 orderly brought me word that my wife asked speech 
 of me, I was like to forget that I was fortunate 
 enough to have a wife. It was the first time that I 
 had so much as given her a kiss, but she had to 
 take it then, I assure you, my lord, for the sight
 
 408 
 
 of her was the first ray of promise or hope we had 
 had for weeks. God bless Mademoiselle de Bour 
 bon for sending her ! " 
 
 " Amen. But I fear the captain does not deserve 
 such a wife," added the prince, who was smiling 
 for the first time in months, " since he was in dan 
 ger of forgetting that he had one. What say you, 
 Madame Tontorf ? " 
 
 "I could not forgive him, monseigneur," replied 
 Jeanne, with her charming Bearnaise accent, " had 
 he put me from his mind for any save your high 
 ness. I knew ever that I must take second place in 
 his heart since the first must always be yours." 
 
 The prince fixed his eyes full upon the two elo 
 quent young faces, with a smile tender and benign. 
 He essayed to speak but his voice faltered. 
 
 Jeanne seeing that he was weary made haste to 
 leave the room. 
 
 The following day she sat alone with the prince, 
 Norbert being sent to carry dispatches to Admiral 
 Boisot. For the water had risen around Leyden, 
 and a fleet of two hundred ships, manned by the 
 Beggars of the Sea, and provisioned for the starv 
 ing Leydeners stood now but five miles from the 
 city, just off the great Land-scheiding, within which 
 the Spaniards, still safe from the flood, lay in their 
 trenches. The prince's order to Boisot was to 
 carry the Land-scheiding immediately at all costs. 
 In spite of the prostration of his fever, every 
 detail of the situation was firmly grasped by him 
 and ceaselessly pondered. 
 
 But now as he sat propped in a chair beside an 
 open window through which the September air 
 flowed in a warm and vitalizing flood, the heavy 
 burden of his State cares and even of Leyden's 
 peril, seemed to slip for the moment from the mind 
 of the prince. 
 
 "Madame," he said, looking into Jeanne's face 
 as she sat repairing his neglected garments by a
 
 409 
 
 small table, "your husband, who goes yet unpun 
 ished, by the way, for the trick he has served us, 
 said something, methought, as to your coming 
 hither at the bidding of Mademoiselle de Bourbon." 
 
 "Yes, monseigneur," Jeanne responded quickly. 
 " At the moment in which she learned of the illness 
 of your highness, Mademoiselle learned also for the 
 first time that her devoted servant, Jeanne de 
 Mousson, had become the wife of Captain Tontorf. 
 My lady is swift to act when she sees need, and 
 she sent me on my way to Holland even that same 
 day." 
 
 "And you would not have joined your husband 
 save at her bidding ? " 
 
 " Nay, monseigneur. Captain Tontorf had made 
 me a solemn pledge never to claim me until Made 
 moiselle of her own free will should bid him." 
 
 "Such devotion is rare, madame." 
 
 " Such a mistress is rarer, your highness." 
 
 The prince was silent, but the deep lines of 
 wasting sorrow and suffering seemed to fade per 
 ceptibly from his face as a new, unuttered hope 
 stirred to life, new, and yet not all unknown. 
 
 Louis, his idolized brother, was beyond the reach 
 henceforth of earthly hopes or fears. 
 
 " I once met Mademoiselle at Heidelberg," he 
 said slowly; "it is more than two years since, 
 shortly before Bartholomew." 
 
 "Yes, monseigneur. Mademoiselle has not for 
 gotten. She bade me say to your highness that 
 you must not feel yourself even yet wholly bereft ; 
 that your friends in Heidelberg can never forget 
 you, and never cease to pray for your peace." 
 
 " Said the lady so ? " replied the prince quickly. 
 "A gracious and consoling word." And he fell 
 into deep reverie. 
 
 Later in the day, when he had slept and showed 
 a noticeable increase of strength and spirit, the 
 prince said to Jeanne :
 
 4io 
 
 " If Leyden is saved, dear lady, we shall be 
 forced to send you and that husband of yours off 
 on a honeymoon to celebrate the event." 
 
 " Oh, charming ! " cried Jeanne. 
 
 "You have heard of a town named Middelburg, 
 in our province of Zeeland ? " 
 
 "That have 1, monseigneur ! Captain Tontorf 
 talked to me of nothing else on our long ride from 
 Jouarre. I feel almost as if I had heard the bells 
 of the minster and seen the house in the Lange 
 Delft, where his boyhood was spent." 
 
 "I am minded," said the prince, smiling at her 
 eager face, "to condemn the pair of you to solitary 
 confinement for a month or two presently in that 
 same house in Middelburg." 
 
 Jeanne laughed with joyous, unconstrained de 
 light. 
 
 " I am supposed at present to be owner of that 
 same mansion," continued the prince. "The 
 Spanish occupation has left it dilapidated, stripped, 
 and forlorn. I should like to see what you two 
 could do with it. Tontorf knew it in its original 
 order, and you have your woman's gift of restoring 
 waste places and making a home out of a desert, 
 as you have shown here. Would you care to un 
 dertake the task ? " 
 
 " With all my heart," said Jeanne, with shining 
 eyes. 
 
 "It would be my wish," said the prince, "that 
 the house should be, in so far as it is possible, re 
 stored to its former condition. I wish to place it 
 under charge and disposal of yourself and of your 
 husband. It will also be my home when I am in 
 Zeeland henceforth, and I ask nothing better for 
 myself than the simple dignity and substantial 
 comfort of an old Dutch burgher mansion," with 
 which the prince fell silent again, while in the busy 
 brain of the young wife by his side a host of happy 
 thoughts were stirring.
 
 4*1 
 
 Full soon the promise thus made was fulfilled, 
 and Captain Tontorf took his bride to the house 
 once his father's for the promised honeymoon. For 
 October brought deliverance to Leyden, and all 
 Holland thrilled with the tidings that this, the most 
 famous of the great historic sieges, had ended with 
 the Spaniards in full retreat before the incoming 
 flood. The Dutchmen, and the Dutchmen's awful 
 ally, the sea, had come off at last victorious. 
 
 The prince, in spite of his weakness, hastened to 
 the long-suffering city, for whose deliverance he 
 had fought his way back to life, and amid a very 
 tumult of thanksgiving he granted its citizens the 
 gift they craved in token of their heroic resistance, 
 the charter of a university.
 
 XXXVII 
 AT THE KIRMESS 
 
 " A H, buy a basket, my lady ! Take but a look 
 
 J-\ at this one ! See the bright border ! Mais 
 c'est elegant, n'est-ce pas? All woven by 
 these hands, your highness. See how strong it is, 
 and yet light enough even for your ladyship's deli 
 cate hand." 
 
 Thus pleading, a Romany woman, with flashing, 
 black eyes and blue-black hair smoothed under a 
 scarlet kerchief tied below her chin, held out a 
 sample of her wares to a young lady who at the 
 moment had entered the motley labyrinth of the 
 open New Year's Kirmess in the market-place of 
 Heidelberg. 
 
 It was Charlotte de Bourbon. 
 
 She wore a pelisse of puce-colored velvet, thickly 
 sprinkled now with snowflakes, and from the furred 
 hood light locks of her golden hair had been blown 
 by the gusty wind, for it was snowing and blowing 
 furiously. With gay and breathless laughter Made 
 moiselle and her two companions, the Lady Kuni- 
 gunde and Jacqueline Tontorf, had sprung within 
 the gypsy's booth for shelter from the storm. 
 They had been enjoying their lusty fight with it, 
 for all three were full of high spirits and the fine 
 elastic vigor of youth and health. 
 
 But as she looked at the Romany woman, Char 
 lotte de Bourbon, startled, exclaimed: 
 
 " f^oila, Kunigunde, can you believe it? This is 
 an old friend of mine ; see if she will know me." 
 
 She spoke in French ; her voice was exquisitely 
 modulated ; her blue eyes, in their sunny clearness, 
 412
 
 413 
 
 showed a child's eager pleasure in the sudden rec 
 ognition. 
 
 "You and I have met before, good friend," she 
 now said, looking with a frank smile upon the vivid, 
 sunbrowned face of the Romany woman. "Do 
 you remember the Abbey of Jouarre? Do you 
 remember a little billet which you came there one 
 summer day, three years ago, to deliver? " 
 
 " It is the lady abbess herself ! God love your 
 lovely face and forgive me that I forgot it ! " and 
 down on her knee fell the woman, pressing her lips 
 to the snowy fur border of Charlotte's cloak. 
 
 "And your ladyship got safe away from those 
 terrible stone walls ! And you have found a good 
 home here in Almayne, n'est-ce pas ? And the gal 
 lant knight who sent the billet by me to your lady 
 ship, he with the yellow hair, the laugh in his 
 voice, the free heart, is he too well and happy? " 
 
 Charlotte's face changed swiftly. 
 
 " The Count of Nassau died on the field within 
 the year," she said softly. 
 
 " Misericorde ! Never did I see so fine a gentle 
 man as that. May the saints receive him ! And 
 will your ladyship tell me, then, what has become 
 of the dark-eyed demoiselle who was with you at 
 Jouarre, at Fontenay the Bearnaise? She is not 
 with your ladyship to-day? " And the black eyes 
 glanced keen inquiry at the faces of Kunigunde and 
 Jacqueline. 
 
 "Ah, the demoiselle de Mousson. She is married 
 to the man of her choice and flown far from me into 
 the Low Countries," replied Charlotte, shaking her 
 head with a wistful smile. 
 
 " And in a few short months," said the woman, 
 with the incredible swiftness of intuition of her 
 craft, " Mademoiselle will be married to the man of 
 her choice and will be flown after her ! Ah, let me 
 tell your ladyshio's fortune!" she exclaimed im 
 portunately.
 
 414 
 
 Wave after wave of brightest bloom tinged Char 
 lotte's cheeks at these unexpected words. 
 
 "No, no," she murmured, with a gesture com 
 manding silence," you have said too much already." 
 Pouring a handful of small coins into the woman's 
 apron, she turned from the booth only to meet, to 
 her increased confusion, the fixed, respectful regard 
 of a pair of eyes which, unknown to her, had been 
 riveted upon her face for several minutes. 
 
 Against the corner post of the adjoining booth a 
 cavalier, of foreign and distinguished aspect, stood 
 quietly leaning, a noticeable man of marked dignity 
 of bearing. 
 
 Why was this unknown personage so steadfastly 
 watching her? Had he heard that strange, wild 
 prophecy of the Romany woman? Had he observed 
 her excitement? Where was Kunigunde? What 
 had become of Jacqueline? They had been carried 
 out of sight for the moment by some current of the 
 crowd. She was alone. She would move on as 
 rapidly as might be and escape that steady, disqui 
 eting gaze. Ah, no ; to escape was impossible ! 
 She had passed the spot where the stranger stood, 
 but with rapid step he was at her side. Saluting 
 her now with profound reverence, he said in a low 
 voice and with a slightly foreign accent : 
 
 " Have I the honor to speak to her grace the 
 Princess de Bourbon? Hardly, methinks, can I be 
 mistaken." 
 
 The lady, greatly amazed, bent her head in token 
 of assent. 
 
 A letter, sealed with a large crest, was in the 
 stranger's hand. Placing it in her own, with an 
 other low bow, he continued in the same under 
 tone : 
 
 "I have just arrived in Heidelberg, your grace, 
 sent from the Prince of Orange on a two-fold com 
 mission a public commission to his excellency, the 
 elector, a private mission to Mademoiselle de Bour-
 
 415 
 
 bon. This letter I am charged by my lord and 
 prince to place in the hands of your ladyship at the 
 first opportunity 1 have of speaking to you alone. 
 I have been in Heidelberg but two hours and count 
 myself fortunate that my errand is already half 
 fulfilled." 
 
 With a parting salutation, courtly and deferential, 
 the stranger passed on, mingling with the moving 
 crowd and immediately disappearing from view. 
 
 Hardly had Charlotte slipped the letter into the 
 folds of her dress when Kunigunde's voice was 
 heard just behind her, saying : 
 
 " Oh, here you are ! We lost you or you lost 
 us, it may chance of intention. Who, pray, is yon 
 handsome cavalier who was plainly unable this 
 long time to take his eyes from your face ? " and 
 with arch raillery Kunigunde drew Charlotte, who 
 protested that she did not know the gentleman, on 
 into the bewildering intricacies of the Kirmess. 
 
 But Mademoiselle had no interest left in the noisy 
 holiday scene, and could feign little. The letter 
 which lay against her heart seemed to set it throb 
 bing with wild pulsations. She was perturbed, 
 confused, excited ; but most of all a strange exult 
 ant joy seemed buoying her up, insomuch that she 
 scarce knew that her feet touched the ground, and 
 ever there rang in her ears the words of the 
 stranger, " My lord -and prince ! My lord and 
 prince ! " Within an hour, being weary of the 
 crowded Kirmess, the three maidens returned to 
 the Gasthaus %iim fitter, where they had left their 
 horses. 
 
 The landlord, a privileged personage with the 
 family from the castle, came bustling to meet them 
 as they reached the door with a low obeisance and 
 a broad smile on his face. 
 
 " The horses shall be ready in exactly three 
 minutes, mesdames ! The gracious ladies have 
 probably not heard of the distinguished arrival at
 
 416 
 
 my hostelry since they stopped on their way to the 
 Kirmess ? No ? I thought as much ! Ah, it is a 
 very great lord, indeed, and not only so but a great 
 poet. The gracious lad PS must have heard the 
 noted ' Wilhelmuslied ' : 
 
 IVilhelmus -can Nassouwe 
 ben ick van duitschen bloet." 
 
 and the landlord hummed the first staves of the 
 famous song under his breath with an air of tri 
 umphant consequence. 
 
 "St. Aldegonde ! " cried both princesses in one 
 breath. 
 
 " The same ! It is Philip Marnix, my lord of St. 
 Aldegonde, come straight from Holland on an errand 
 to his excellency your honored father, gracious 
 Fraulein, from the great stadtholder, William of 
 Orange." 
 
 " Oh, but really ! " cried Kunigunde with fresh 
 interest. " I have long desired to see him ! And 
 do you know, sir, the nature of his errand ? " and 
 she cast a roguish look aside at Charlotte's blush 
 ing face. " The self-same cavalier, liebchen, who 
 spoke to you just now," she murmured under her 
 breath. 
 
 " Oh, yes, gracious Fraulein," the host went on 
 in a declamatory tone. " It is an embassage of 
 weighty and most honorable character. His lord 
 ship is empowered to negotiate with his excellency 
 for a removal, for a time at least, of some of the 
 brightest ornaments, some of the most eminent sa 
 vants of Heidelberg's glorious university, to the new 
 foundation at Leyden." 
 
 " Is it so ? " responded the lady. " Doubtless 
 then we shall see the gentleman presently up at 
 the castle. But my father is even now down in 
 the town at the "university hall, if you had but 
 known it." 
 
 " Trust me for knowing that, gracious Fraulein I
 
 417 
 
 Oh, yes I gave my lord of St. Aldegonde many a 
 point he could not have otherwise obtained. I di 
 rected him where to find his excellency and they 
 are doubtless now conferring together." 
 
 The three maidens, by this time mounted, gal 
 loped up the snowy, trodden bridle path through the 
 naked chestnut wood to the castle, followed by 
 their grooms. Hastily dismissing her attendants 
 Charlotte withdrew to her room in the Frauenzim- 
 merbau and at last had opportunity to take her 
 mysterious letter from its safe hiding-place and to 
 break the lions of its seal. 
 
 The signature was William of Nassau, the im 
 port of the letter, as a glance sufficed to reveal to 
 the lady, was an offer of marriage in due form. 
 
 Charlotte's eyes flew across the lines. It was 
 a letter which well might quicken the beating of 
 her heart, noble, stately, yet loverlike. 
 
 With fine restraint, but scarce veiled passion, the 
 prince declared his devotion and begged to learn if 
 it could be returned. " The Sieur de St. Alde 
 gonde will tell you," he proceeded, " that I am at 
 the ebb of all my worldly fortunes and no brilliant 
 parti for a princess of the blood of France ; that I 
 am no longer young ; that I am deep in debt, and 
 deeper yet in the difficulties of this stormy time ; 
 that I can promise you no easy and joyous life, but 
 rather invite you to share the fortunes of a man 
 fighting almost alone in a war whose issue is un 
 certain. ,Yes, unhappily more than this is true ; I 
 have no palace such as would befit you ; I can sur 
 round you with no state and splendor such as you 
 deserve ; a dower-house in Middelburg, a plain 
 burgher dwelling, and nothing to boast of, is all 
 that I can at present offer my bride. However, 
 my heart is yours and I make bold to offer you my 
 hand, pledging you my best service in all good faith, 
 to cherish and protect you while I live if you will 
 do me this greatest grace." 
 
 2B
 
 4i8 
 
 The Sieur de St. Aldegonde, his good friend, the 
 prince added, would answer whatever questions 
 should arise and would plead his cause in all honor 
 and sincerity. 
 
 Clasping the letter to her breast Charlotte rose, 
 and lifting her head as if she had been crowned, 
 stood in the sunset light streaming through the 
 oriel window. No words, no sound escaped her 
 lips, but bright tears of exquisite joy and proud hu 
 mility fell fast down her cheeks. 
 
 "My lord and prince!" her heart cried, "thus 
 he stoops to woo me, the poor fugitive, the home 
 less, disinherited dependent ! He hides his great 
 ness, and makes naught of his fame, setting forth 
 the rather all that should bring him down to my 
 poor estate, with matchless art. Has love taught 
 him ? Oh, has he loved me long ? If I could but 
 know, for I I have loved him forever, and forever 
 shall I love!" 
 
 But suddenly into the rapture of her heavenly 
 hoping a thought sprang which stung her as if it 
 had been a poisonous dart. 
 
 Was the prince a free man ? Had she a right to 
 this riot of joy ? 
 
 Until that moment Charlotte de Bourbon had for 
 gotten the existence of Anne of Saxony. Had the 
 prince too forgotten ?
 
 XXXVIII 
 "A SPIRIT, YET A WOMAN TOO" 
 
 "\\ /ILL the Sieur de St. Aldegonde attend Made- 
 
 y Y moiselle de Bourbon at once ? She wishes 
 
 to speak with him in private on a matter 
 
 known only to himself. She will await him in the 
 
 east gallery of the Bibliotheksbau." 
 
 St. Aldegonde stood in the leaping firelight before 
 the magnificent chimney which gave grandeur to 
 the Ruprechts Hall, musing on the two-fold mission 
 which had brought him to this famous court. The 
 elector had taken him straightway up from the town 
 to the castle, with hospitable tyranny, and he was 
 expecting momentarily a summons to attend him 
 and the electress at the evening banquet. 
 
 Turning as he heard himself thus addressed, he 
 saw a graceful girl with serious eyes and quickened, 
 timid breath who had entered the room with noise 
 less steps, and who stood as if awaiting instant re 
 sponse. 
 
 "My Fraulein, shall I follow you ? " asked the 
 good knight courteously, concealing his surprise at 
 the unexpected summons. 
 
 A motion of the girl's hand was the only reply, 
 and she hastened out from the hall, St. Aldegonde 
 closely following. 
 
 Passing through a chill, gloomy passage which 
 led to the northern end of the great Ruprechtsbau, 
 Jacqueline Tontorf, for she was her lady's messen 
 ger, opened a door at its farthest extremity and 
 in another moment St. Aldegonde found himself in 
 the great Gothic library of Heidelberg Castle. The 
 eager eyes of the Holland savant could discern in 
 
 419
 
 420 
 
 its dimly lighted recesses the endless treasures of 
 folios, manuscripts, and books of priceless value, 
 treasures of an irresistible attraction to him, the 
 scholar and poet. But Jacqueline's slender figure, 
 gliding swiftly on before, forbade him to linger. 
 She now sprang lightly up a few steps to a door 
 which she cautiously opened, beckoning him to 
 approach. 
 
 "Yonder," she said, speaking for the second 
 time, and pointed down a long gallery. It was 
 flooded by the cold luster of the January moon 
 whose light fell through the tall, arched eastern 
 windows. " My lady will meet you at the foot of 
 the turret stairs." 
 
 Wherewith St. Aldegonde found himself alone in 
 the moonlit gallery, for the door into the library 
 softly closed upon his girlish guide. Without hesi 
 tation he advanced to the massive octagonal turret 
 at the northern end which, belonging to the adja 
 cent structure, the Frauenzimmerbau, in which the 
 ladies of the court had their apartments, abutted 
 on the gallery of the great library. As he neared 
 the small pointed doorway, cut in the thick ma 
 sonry of the ancient turret, he heard a slight sound 
 above him. 
 
 He halted where he stood, gazing at the narrow 
 portal. There was a rustle of flowing silken gar 
 ments, footfalls on the cold stone stairs as light as 
 the moonbeams, and Charlotte de Bourbon stood 
 before him. Dressed in gleaming white silk for the 
 evening's festivity, her face was white as the light 
 drapery which was drawn about her head and 
 shoulders, and in her clasped hands, dropped before 
 her, she held a letter with a broken seal. Her large 
 blue eyes were fastened full upon the knight's face. 
 
 St. Aldegonde bowed low, amazement and some 
 thing akin to awe making him speechless. 
 
 Was this vision the blithe laughing maiden whom 
 he had encountered a few hours since in the Kir-
 
 421 
 
 mess with her blushes over the bold words of the 
 Romany quean and her deeper blushes when she 
 received the letter from his hand ? 
 
 That was a creature of flesh and blood, with 
 spirit high and buoyant, a woman joyous, gracious, 
 wholly human and adorable. This was a being of 
 another strain, at once queenly and ascetic ; the 
 princess-abbess of other days, cold and pale and 
 still, her loveliness touched with a tragic loftiness, 
 all the nun within her looking in wondering re 
 proach from her startled eyes, all the womanhood 
 of her betrayed by the trembling of her sweet lips ; 
 in fine, a woman who believed she felt the first 
 breath which had ever blown upon her chastity 
 and that from the lips of the man she loved. 
 
 " Is Anne of Saxony dead, my lord ? " 
 
 The abrupt words, breathed rather than spoken, 
 had in them a most moving cadence of appeal, 
 despite their imperiousness. 
 
 " She is thrice dead to the man who was once 
 her husband, your highness," St. Aldegonde made 
 answer firmly. 
 
 The poet in him discerned as by a lightning flash 
 the movements of the lady's spirit. He divined 
 from the very accents of her voice that she loved 
 his lord. Her heart stood ready to surrender to his 
 siege, but conscience and will had risen to arms. 
 
 "If it please you, monsieur, let us confine our 
 selves to facts. Their excellencies await us both 
 presently, and there is scant time to deal in meta 
 phors. Is the Princess of Orange dead ? Else is 
 this letter a shame and affront to my maidenhood,'' 
 and Charlotte lifted the letter in her hand as if to 
 return it to its giver, but in the very act her hand 
 fell again. 
 
 "Nay, gracious lady," cried St. Aldegonde, 
 pierced to the heart thus to hear the honor of his 
 adored master attainted ; " let it not be said ! let 
 it not be thought ! My lord has loved you with a
 
 422 
 
 whole-hearted though silent devotion from the day 
 he saw you first at this court. He plights you a 
 pure and knightly troth, if so you will receive it." 
 
 From the lady's eyes slow tears fell and spar 
 kled in the frosty moonlight. 
 
 " It was thus I read his letter, but I had forgot 
 " and here her voice faltered. 
 
 " Forget now and forever, dear lady," cried St. 
 Aldegonde, low and urgently ; " it is right to forget ! 
 It is kindest, best ! And yet a word of explanation 
 is your due. The former wife of the Prince of 
 Orange is not merely a vicious woman, insane by 
 reason of intemperance, as you have doubtless 
 heard," here the gentleman's face grew stern and 
 his voice sank to a lower key. " Far worse than 
 that is her case, albeit the truth has been closely 
 hid, for in her vain, dissolute frivolity she has be 
 trayed her husband's honor and name ; she has 
 lived in shameless violation of her marriage vows, 
 and to-day she is as dead in the eye of the law of 
 God and man as though the cell in which she hides 
 her madness were her grave. Her very life is for 
 feit, her marriage ties are annulled by her crime. 
 For all this ample proof is forthcoming. You little 
 know my lord, madame, if you can dream that he 
 would stain your maidenhood by the offer of a hand 
 which was not free. The Prince of Orange places 
 your honor far above his own desire, his own hap 
 piness. Upon this Mademoiselle could even have 
 depended. That she has doubted it, pardon me, 
 shows that she has yet to sound the depths of his 
 princely nature, and of a patience which I dare to 
 think is in nothing less than the patience of God's 
 holy saints and martyrs. For my lord has borne 
 in silence and in secret the consequences of an 
 other's sin beyond the last verge of requirement, 
 as your very question proves. Nevertheless, Made 
 moiselle, he will bear this burden still if such be 
 your decision."
 
 423 
 
 St. Aldegonde paused, his arms crossed upon his 
 breast, his eyes, grave and sorrowful, searching 
 Charlotte's face. 
 
 A faint smile was dawning in her eyes, was 
 trembling on her lips. The letter was hidden now 
 in her bosom. Her tense limbs relaxed, her stately 
 head drooped. 
 
 "What think you, Monsieur de St. Aldegonde," 
 she murmured, with delicate reserve; "has not 
 my lord and prince merited something better than 
 that at my hand ? " 
 
 " Mademoiselle, to my thought he has," replied 
 St. Aldegonde stoutly. 
 
 " Monsieur says that the prince has borne me 
 in his thoughts these several years ? " 
 
 " Yes, your highness. That I know surely from 
 his own lips." 
 
 A rosy flush mantled the lady's cheeks, hereto 
 fore so pale. 
 
 " And yet he has not spoken ? " she softly said. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," the brave St. Aldegonde made 
 answer, something almost like a sob smothered in 
 his breath, "the dead boy we loved so well, our 
 gallant Louis, the ewig Jung, loved your ladyship, 
 hoped in time to win you. My lord discovered this, 
 and, as beseemed his nobleness, was silent." 
 
 The lady's eyes grew wide with wonder, with 
 awe and tenderness. With a swift, generous ges 
 ture she held out both her clasped hands toward 
 the man who had so well known how to plead his 
 master's cause. 
 
 " I am not worthy the love of so great a man ! " 
 she cried, all the heart of her breaking in pure joy 
 upon her voice, " but tell the prince, monsieur, that 
 my devotion to him outranks his for me in years, 
 for long before I ever saw him, while yet I was in 
 my convent at Jouarre, a lonety girl, shut away 
 from the great world outside, his name was the 
 name of all men living which ruled my thoughts."
 
 424 
 
 St. Aldegonde listened to these words with kin 
 dling eyes. 
 
 "Nevertheless, I must acquaint Mademoiselle 
 with the whole truth. There are some things that 
 should be said, as that, primo, my lord is no 
 longer young." 
 
 " Then can my youth be the more welcome gift," 
 was the quick response. 
 
 " He is poor." 
 
 " Then are we the better mated." 
 
 " His life is led in a tumult of war and strife and 
 danger." 
 
 " The greater need has he, then, of a peaceful 
 hearth and home in which to find a refuge." 
 
 " He has espoused an unpopular, it may even 
 be a losing, cause." 
 
 " In that he has but shown that he is greater than 
 other men." 
 
 " His is no light-hearted temper, your nobleness ; 
 the prince is a man of many sorrows and acquainted 
 with much humiliation." 
 
 St. Aldegonde's voice trembled. 
 
 " In this he is like our blessed Saviour," the lady 
 made reverent answer. 
 
 "And his life it is never beyond the reach of 
 his enemies. He lives in mortal peril at every 
 hour." 
 
 "That I know," she said, with a look never so 
 high-hearted, "and that alone would call me to his 
 side. Who can tell but God would have me not 
 only to live for him, but also to lay down my life 
 for his sake ? "
 
 XXXIX 
 "JE MAINTIENDRAI " 
 
 AXONY rages, good Philip, and Hesse im- 
 agines a vain thing !" 
 
 It was the prince who spoke with mild 
 irony, striding up and down his private room in the 
 old convent of St. Agatha in Delft, booted and 
 spurred, plainly about to depart. St. Aldegonde, 
 who had just entered with a clouded face, was lean 
 ing against a table littered with numberless docu 
 ments and letters. The room was dusty and com 
 fortless, and showed the lack of a woman's care. 
 The prince was sadly missing the good offices of 
 Madame Tontorf. It was April. 
 
 "Yes, the landgrave, I hear, is positively foam 
 ing at the mouth at the prospect of the divorce of 
 his niece," rejoined Marnix seriously. "You have 
 sacrificed yourself so long, my lord, to screen their 
 family pride, the scandal has been kept so long a 
 complete mystery from the public, that the lady's 
 uncles have taken it for granted you would con 
 tinue to do so to the bitter end. Not that they 
 ever thanked you for your silence, as far as 1 have 
 heard," he added, with a trace of bitterness. 
 
 " Not they," returned the prince lightly, " but 
 they can curse me fast enough now when I break 
 silence perforce. They deplore and protest, depre 
 cate and imprecate in good German and bad Latin, 
 as you can read for yourself, if you will," and he 
 pointed to the confusion of letters on the table. 
 
 " Are the formalities for the divorce yet com 
 pleted, my lord ? " asked his friend with ill-con 
 cealed anxiety. 
 
 425
 
 426 
 
 "No, but they will be shortly," was the com 
 posed reply. " I have also had letters to-day, 
 Philip, from France, forwarded from Heidelberg. 
 The elector and madame wrote most warmly, as 
 before." 
 
 "Ah, yes, they are surely on your side. But 
 what from France ? What says Montpensier ? " 
 
 " He sulks in his tent and will say nothing. He 
 has disinherited and disowned the maiden, and with 
 that enough said. France is non-committal, ' not 
 wishing to mix himself with the affair, as being against 
 his religion. Catharine de Medici goes so far as to 
 consider Mademoiselle fortunate in meeting so good a 
 parti, and will not take the marriage in ill part." 
 
 " Cold comfort that." 
 
 " Navarre, however, gives us a most affectionate 
 approval. The son of Jeanne d'Albret will never 
 fail in friendship toward Mademoiselle. Young 
 Conde too is cordial." 
 
 "Good as far as it goes," said St. Aldegonde, 
 " but I fear the tactics of the queen-mother are 
 likely to make use of this proposed marriage for 
 further alienation of the French government from 
 our cause." 
 
 The prince glanced up sharply at the phrase 
 *' proposed marriage " and frowned. 
 
 "Oh, probably," he said carelessly. 
 
 " Meanwhile 1 have had this from John, your 
 brother, my lord," and drawing out a letter, Mar- 
 nix read the hasty, passionate lines : " 'Dear Alde 
 gonde, if you have any love for the prince and for the 
 welfare of the elector, and if you do not want to run 
 into danger yourself , do let this thing be delayed for a 
 time.' " 
 
 The Count of Nassau proceeded to set forth with 
 much force and cogency the disastrous results which 
 would ensue to the great cause of Protestantism 
 and the struggle against Spain if the prince per 
 sisted in a divorce and re-marriage which must
 
 427 
 
 alienate every German magnate in the empire, save 
 the Elector Palatine. 
 
 " The prince listened quietly. He had seated 
 himself now at the table and as Marnix concluded 
 he remarked gravely : 
 
 " Yes, John is in despair. I can match that let 
 ter with half a dozen here in which he fairly weeps 
 over my imprudence. John is badly frightened, 
 and I am not sure but my good friend Philip is as 
 much so," and the prince smiled slightly at the 
 anxious face before him. " My brother Calvinists 
 here in the Netherlands have their fling too, at me. 
 ' This man,' they say, ' it seems can change his wife 
 and his religion as often as it pleases him.' That 
 is not exactly the gluckwunsch a man would choose 
 for his marriage," and the characteristic melan 
 choly became more marked in the face of Orange. 
 
 " And what will you do about it all, my lord ? " 
 asked St. Aldegonde impressively. " I confess that 
 I believe John right in the matter. This Bourbon 
 marriage will be a bad blunder politically, however 
 desirable to yourself as a private individual." 
 
 The prince looked at his friend for a little space 
 with a peculiar, imperturbable smile. 
 
 " Philip, what think you I am likely to do about 
 it?" 
 
 The other scanned his face closely and replied 
 briefly : " You will marry the lady." 
 
 " Precisely if she is still minded to have me." 
 Then Orange added with strong, grave emphasis : 
 " You can bear me witness, old friend, my intention 
 has always been, since God gave me any understand 
 ing, not to trouble myself about words and menaces in 
 anything I could conscientiously do without wrong to 
 my neighbor. Truly, if I had paid regard to the 
 threats of princes I should never have embarked in so 
 many dangerous affairs contrary to the will of the 
 king in times past. The time comes when active re 
 sistance with the grace of God is the only remedy. )y
 
 428 
 
 " And this is such a time ? " 
 
 " It is even so now with my marriage. It is some 
 thing I do with good conscience before God and with 
 out just cause for reproach from men. I firmly be 
 lieve that I am taking the right course not only for my 
 self but for the general cause. John and you will be 
 the first to admit it ere long. Further than this I 
 have nothing to say, believing that I am the best 
 judge of my own conduct. This you can write to 
 the landgrave, to Saxony, to John if you will, but 
 write nothing more. For me, I have no time to 
 write, I should have been on my way to Middel- 
 burg a half-hour since." 
 
 Aldegonde bent his head. 
 
 Whether fully convinced of the political wisdom 
 of the Bourbon marriage, he could not mistake the 
 iron determination which lay behind these quiet 
 words ; he read it in the compressed lips, in the 
 keen but quiet light in the eyes, in the firmly 
 closed, flexible white hand of the prince as it lay 
 on the table. 
 
 He rose from his place. 
 
 " My lord," he said, with a smile of whimsical 
 resignation, "you are in love." 
 
 " True, Philip. Can you wonder ? 
 
 " Not I, my lord, I who have seen the lady." 
 
 "Marnix,"the prince began in a musing tone, 
 " life has not gone over-easily with me up to this 
 day." 
 
 "You are right, my lord." 
 
 "What think you," he proceeded slowly, his 
 chin lifted, his head thrown back, a brooding dark 
 ness in his eyes, " might it not even be pardon 
 able if once, just once, a man should act to please 
 himself and seek to bind up a somewhat bleeding, 
 and if the truth were known, Philip, perhaps even 
 a broken heart by the touch of a woman's hand 
 a sweet woman, my friend, with a pure hand and 
 a holy ? What if the man should not even ask,
 
 429 
 
 should not even care supremely what the political 
 effect of his action might be ? Could forgiveness 
 be found for such a wretch ? " 
 
 "I believe it could, my lord," returned Marnix, 
 mastered by the charm of his friend's mood. 
 
 "Then, Philip," and the prince rose from his 
 chair, the brooding smile still in his eyes, but a 
 strangely imperious thrill in his tones as he spoke, 
 "start on your journey for Heidelberg as speedily 
 as you may ! March roundly now in this matter ! 
 A man may surely be in haste to see the bride 
 whom he has not seen in three years. Fetch her, 
 Philip, as fast as you may and not disturb her ease. 
 Take the route straight down the river, if you find 
 it safe. It is easier for Mademoiselle, quicker also. 
 And Philip, commend me to my lady as you jour 
 ney with such good will as you may. Speak me 
 fair, good friend. She will have heard many things 
 hard for her gentle spirit ; she may tremble at the 
 life before her, may even shrink at the last from 
 joining her fate to so stormy a one as mine." 
 
 "Nay, my lord, Mademoiselle will neither trem 
 ble nor shrink." 
 
 " Are you so sure ? " 
 
 " The lady resembles you, my lord, in this par 
 ticular ; she is of an excellent high courage. Also 
 she is very deep in love." 
 
 A brilliant smile rewarded this deliverance. Then 
 with a salutation of gay, ironical gallantry, as grace 
 ful and spirited as the manner of his youth, the 
 prince hastened to leave the room. St. Aldegonde 
 watched him from the window as he swung his 
 slender, flexible body with one leap upon his horse's 
 back and galloped out of the courtyard on his long 
 journey to Middelburg. 
 
 " Adorably stubborn person ! " he murmured to 
 himself with a grim, reluctant smile. " Now then, 
 back to Heidelberg ! "
 
 XL 
 
 THE BOURBON LILY BLOOMS IN DUTCH SOIL 
 
 THE Prince of Orange knew the people of the 
 Netherlands better than any man living. 
 
 His deeper insight discerned the effect upon 
 them of his proposed marriage, and he builded bet 
 ter than the men knew who prophesied disaster. 
 He saw that in the land itself dwelt the secret of 
 its salvation. Long ago he had learned that the 
 favor of princes was vain, but that in the heart of 
 the common people of the Provinces was stanch 
 and sturdy constancy. It was to this common heart 
 of the people that his marriage most effectually ap 
 pealed. 
 
 What if the German princes took counsel to 
 gether and said : " If Orange can afford this roman 
 tic, imprudent marriage with a dowerless, escaped 
 nun, we need trouble ourselves no longer in his be 
 hoof "? To the harried, worn-out people of the 
 Provinces, whose only hope was in their stadt- 
 holder, his betrothal gave fresh heart and courage, 
 and well he knew it ! Let the German princes go, 
 then, if they must ! A thrill of joy ran through the 
 fainting land. The prince would bring a lovely 
 lady of the royal house of France among them. He 
 would establish a home and a household and plant 
 himself more deeply than heretofore in their simple 
 burgher life and in their stricken cities. This meant 
 that their cause could not, after all, be hopeless. 
 This meant that he committed himself wholly and 
 forever to that cause with all that he held dearest. 
 It dispelled the haunting fear that he was perchance 
 after all a free lance, striking brave blows for the 
 430
 
 431 
 
 Provinces to-day, but ready to depart to another 
 land to-morrow and leave them to their fate. 
 
 A tenderer sentiment, moreover, stirred every 
 where and found frequent expression, for dearer 
 than all they held it that the harsh and rugged lines 
 of their prince's life were to be softened and beau 
 tified by a woman's gentleness, and that the an 
 guish of his lonely heart was at last to find noble 
 consolation. 
 
 It was therefore with joyous anticipation that the 
 Netherlanders awaited the return of St. Aldegonde, 
 who was known to have set out early in May from 
 Heidelberg with the bride, accompanied by a goodly 
 retinue, as befitted the state of the adopted daugh 
 ter of the great Protestant elector and a princess of 
 the house of Bourbon. 
 
 On the yth of June a stately barge, adorned with 
 great richness, flower-laden, its mast wreathed with 
 lilies, under escort of a little fleet of sister ships, 
 sailed into the Dutch port of La Brille. 
 
 On the deck of the barge stood the lilylike lady, 
 golden-haired, tall and queenly, dressed all in white 
 and silver, around her a little bevy of her maidens, 
 among them her favorite, Jacqueline. On her right 
 hand stood her faithful Christian counsellor, the 
 Sieur de Minay, on her left the prince's advocate, 
 the Sieur de St. Aldegonde. 
 
 As the little fleet anchored amid thundering salvos 
 echoing from shore to shore of the wide-mouthed 
 river, a small boat put out from the crowded jetty, 
 and a stately man of middle age, in a magnificent 
 costume of black and gold, with the order of the 
 Fleece upon his breast, leaped to the deck of the 
 barge, and fell on one knee before his bride-elect. 
 
 As he lifted her hand to his lips and his eyes full 
 of love and worship to her face, the fervent cheers 
 of the multitude, the blare of trumpets, and re 
 newed salvos from the cannons rent the air. 
 
 Let us glance back at the quaint words of the old
 
 432 
 
 chronicler of La Jqyeuse Entree of the " serene and 
 high-born princess " : 
 
 Blaze forth your gladness, you cities of Holland and Zeeland ! 
 
 You, men and women, blaze forth on every side your joy 
 
 In honor of the great prince and of his consort noble and re 
 nowned ! 
 
 May God, who has accorded them his grace, continue it to 
 them evermore. 
 
 When the chaste and noble young lady entered the city of 
 La Brille, 
 
 Each one bade her welcome, and joy burst from all around ; 
 
 Fires burned on the towers and in the streets both night and 
 day in a ravishing manner, 
 
 Not a voice of complaining or regret troubled the general ex 
 ultation. 
 
 Five days later, being the twelfth day of June, 
 in the year of grace 1575, in the parish church of 
 La Brille, the Princess de Bourbon was united in 
 marriage to the Prince of Orange. 
 
 That day, in letters of gold on a banner of 
 white, was borne aloft the significant motto chosen 
 by the prince : 
 
 "A single dawning has conquered all my night! "
 
 A BRIEF RECORD OF SEVEN HAPPY YEARS. 
 
 [The following is a memoir in the handwriting of Mevrouw Ton- 
 torf, nee de fMousson, inscribed by her as above. This record, pre 
 served in the archives of the Tontorf-Hassalaer family, of (Mid- 
 delburg, has been, by their kind favor, placed in the hands of the 
 writer of these annals, and is here appended.] 
 
 IT is the seventh anniversary of my lady's mar 
 riage, being the twelfth of June, in the year 
 1582. I, Jeanne Tontorf, am sitting here in 
 our beloved home in the Lange Delft, known now 
 in Middelburg as the Heerenhnis, and being alone, 
 since my good man has not yet returned from Ant 
 werp, my mind runs back over some of the scenes 
 of those years, and the strange events which have 
 taken place under this roof. 
 
 I have come even now from bidding good-night 
 to my precious little princesses in their white beds. 
 For the first time, to-night I can say that I am glad 
 that I have no child of my own. 
 
 In this room where I write, how well I remember 
 standing with Norbert that April afternoon seven 
 years ago, ere yet we dreamed aught of the pur 
 pose of monseigneur. The sun was streaming in 
 through these windows, and we were busily plan 
 ning how best to order the room for his highness' 
 use, when we heard his own step on the stair and 
 he stood before us, fine and lordly in the open door, 
 whip in hand, in riding costume, plainly just off 
 his horse. 
 
 We had not looked for him to come to Middel 
 burg that day, and, believing him still in Delft, 
 our surprise and gladness were the greater, but 
 naught to what should follow. 
 
 Never had I seen monseigneur with the com- 
 2C 433
 
 434 
 
 manding, masterful air he wore that day, the while 
 his eyes were shining with a most marvelous glad 
 ness. Every vestige of his illness had now disap 
 peared. 
 
 " Madame," he said, and a new note of joyance 
 rang in his voice, " you are preparing an apartment 
 for my use ? " 
 
 I replied that this was our chief concern. 
 
 " And for the captain and yourself ? " to which 
 I answered, yes. 
 
 " But you have arranged no rooms for your 
 lady ! " he exclaimed. " How is that ? " 
 
 My heart almost stopped beating. 
 
 "My lady!"! stammered. "Mademoiselle is 
 in Heidelberg." 
 
 " Very true, but please God we shall see her ere 
 long in Holland, and surely a room shall not fail 
 her in this house." Then having mercy on our be 
 wilderment: "Yes, good friends, give me joy! 
 Mademoiselle de Bourbon has plighted me her troth 
 by the Sieur St. Aldegonde." 
 
 I cried for joy as 1 never cried for sorrow, and 
 even Norbert's eyes were dim. It seemed too 
 great a grace. 
 
 Later monseigneur told us somewhat of the bit 
 ter rage and opposition which his proposed mar 
 riage had awakened on all sides. I think our glad 
 ness touched his heart very deeply. 
 
 Well we understood that Mademoiselle's poverty 
 and friendlessness did but appeal with far greater 
 force to his chivalrous heart than all the power and 
 wealth of thrones could have done. And then I 
 knew that he loved my lady. Had I not watched 
 him that evening in Heidelberg at the banquet of 
 the elector ? Had I not seen the look in his eyes 
 when he rode away the morning after ? 
 
 And Mademoiselle ! She had always worshiped 
 her dream of the prince from afar, and for three 
 years her whole heart had been his, as well I
 
 435 
 
 knew. How could I wait to see her joy ? But the 
 time seemed short, so full were we of happy labor 
 in making her home ready for the bride. 
 
 The city council of Middelburg voted a generous 
 annual dowry to the princess, and put a large sum 
 of money at my husband's disposal wherewith to 
 equip this house with rich new carpets, tapestry, 
 and furnishings, and thus ours was indeed a delight 
 ful task. 
 
 Then came the great day, and we went to La 
 Brille in the prince's company, and after monseig- 
 neur I was the first to bid my lady bienvemie. I 
 never saw her so royal nor so beautiful as when 
 she stood that day on the deck of the barge, white 
 lilies in her hand, with the prince kneeling at her 
 feet. 
 
 No wonder the people went mad with joy ! Their 
 prince, their saviour, who had suffered such un 
 speakable loss and sorrow for their sakes, who had 
 been stripped for years of home, of wife and child, 
 friend and brother, was at last to find joy and com 
 pensation. 
 
 But even they could not know, even the prince 
 himself has never known until now, the divine 
 purpose which filled my lady's heart that day, and 
 which never left it : to guard his happiness, his life, 
 at the expense, if need be, of her own, to ward from him 
 that doom which she had seen written on his brow ! 
 
 Ah, dearest mistress, purest soul, how truly hast 
 thou fulfilled thy purpose ! 
 
 We were at Dort with their excellencies for the 
 great nuptial festivities and then presently, we 
 going on before, the prince brought his bride to 
 Middelburg, and the venerable Burgomaster Held- 
 ring received her in the great hall below, which 
 Norbert's family used to call the Gossaert-Saal, but 
 which is now known as the Prinzen-Saal. 
 
 How the bells rang out all over Middelburg that 
 day, and the banners waved from the abbey and
 
 436 
 
 the Stadthuis windows, and Gehke Betje and Lange 
 Jan forgot their ancient feud and rang out a glori 
 ous carillon in pealing unison. 
 
 My lady from the first moment loved our dear 
 adopted country, its deep green fields, its soft skies 
 and pearly mists. She loved the brave, true-hearted 
 people of Holland and Zeeland, their rich and 
 stately old cities girdled by broad slow rivers, and 
 best of all she loved Middelburg and in this house 
 she found her truest home, so she ever said. 
 
 Great joy was this to my husband, who has 
 been indeed fairly glorified by this consecration of 
 his birthplace to the use of the two persons whom 
 he most reveres on earth. 
 
 But the other towns must share the princely 
 favor and it was almost a year after the marriage 
 before their excellencies took up their constant 
 abode with us here, not very long I think before 
 the death of the good Elector Friedrich, which 
 caused them both such heartfelt grief. They 
 brought with them their firstborn little daughter, 1 
 Louisa Juliana, just two months old. 
 
 Great and stirring events filled the year which 
 followed and many a great edict and manifesto 
 and torrents of letters of State were written in 
 the room where I now sit alone. Greatest of all 
 was the pacification of Ghent, a very master 
 piece of diplomacy by which the prince united, alas, 
 for but brief time, all seventeen of these provinces, 
 pledged to resist the tyranny of Spain and to toler 
 ate both forms of religion. (Religious freedom is 
 ever one of monseigneur's chief concerns ; even the 
 Anabaptists share his sympathy and protection.) 
 But the Southern provinces were and remain at 
 heart Catholic ; fickle are they and easily led away, 
 and no union with them has ever proved lasting. 
 
 1 This princess married in ISQ? Friedrich IV., Elector Palatine, grandson 
 of Friedrich III. The Electress Sophia, ancestress of the house of Hanover, 
 was her granddaughter, and Queen Victoria, of Great Britain, was thus 
 ninth in descent from William the Silent and Charlotte de Bourbon.
 
 437 
 
 For inflexible patriotism and steadfastness in 
 religion the prince has ever need to look to the 
 Northern provinces. Their union abides firm and 
 stable. We believe it ever will. 
 
 It was after monseigneur and my lady had spent 
 well-nigh a year under this roof, that we had a 
 strange and mysterious visitor who spent four days 
 with us that spring, but departed without having 
 accomplished his secret mission. This guest was 
 Doctor Leoninus, a savant and diplomat of Lou- 
 vain, and he was sent to Middelburg by the new 
 viceroy, Don John, half-brother to Philip of Spain. 
 His purpose was to seek to win the prince to aban 
 don the cause of the Netherlands by every flatter 
 ing promise of power and wealth which might tempt 
 an ambitious man to withdraw from an endless and 
 hopeless struggle against terrific odds. 
 
 My lady confided to me as well as to the Sieur de 
 Minay, always her trusted counsellor, the object of 
 the very learned gentleman's visit and we watched 
 with some secret amusement the obsequious and 
 flattering deference of the guest, in whom Spain 
 was in reality on its knees before the prince, and 
 likewise the cold, dignified courtesy of his host. 
 
 Not for one moment did it enter into the heart 
 of monseigneur to give up the cause of this poor 
 fainting, drowned-out land for the sake of his own 
 pardon, or power and exaltation. Nay, not even to 
 recover his eldest son, kept a prisoner in Spain all 
 these years, would he do this, for, as he quietly 
 told Leoninus, he had "long ago placed his own 
 particular interests under his foot as he was still re 
 solved to do while life should endure." 
 
 Once he turned, when we were alone, but our 
 guest still prolonging his visit, and said to Madame : 
 
 "Ma mie," it is thus he is wont to address her, 
 " forgive me ! It has not occurred to me to lay 
 this matter before thee as deserving thy considera 
 tion. Thou knowest the mission of Leoninus.
 
 438 
 
 What sayest thou ? It would in sooth bring an 
 end to all our troubles." 
 
 It was the only time I ever saw my lady angry, 
 but there was no loss, since monseigneur found her 
 more charming than ever in her indignation. So 
 Leoninus was sent back to his master Don John, 
 who wrote to Philip that he could prevail nothing, 
 since the people here are " bewitched by the Prince 
 of Orange. He is the pilot who is guiding this bark, 
 and he alone can lose or save it. The greatest obsta 
 cle would be abolished if he could have been gained 
 over." 
 
 Shortly after this the Spanish troops departed 
 from our land for a season amid the wild rejoicings 
 of the people. 
 
 Never have I dreamed of a life so purely happy 
 as the life which was lived by our household under 
 this roof. Perhaps there were times when the 
 Sieur de Minay had longings for our own fair France, 
 albeit he said ever that life without his princess 
 would be scarce worth living, but for me my heart's 
 ease was too full for longing. Norbert being now 
 captain of the prince's bodyguard, was ever in at 
 tendance. He and I have our own beautiful apart 
 ments overlooking the Lange Delft, and the per 
 vading sense that this sacred place is our home fills 
 us with abiding gratitude, while there has been a 
 yet higher joy in knowing it the actual home of 
 their excellencies. To them our whole united life 
 has been given in a service which we both hold our 
 chief joy and honor. 
 
 To see monseigneur and my lady together daily 
 in the sweet habitudes of their wedded life was lit 
 tle less than glory to me. The charm and repose 
 and loving spirit of Madame seemed ever to exert 
 a magical spell on the mind of her husband, through 
 all those stormy and troublous times. Often have 
 I heard him say "What a happy life this is that I 
 live with thee, Carlotta ! " and add that she had
 
 439 
 
 given him all the true happiness his life had ever 
 known. In every state paper, even, where he 
 mentioned her, it was as "our very dear and well- 
 beloved wife." 
 
 However perplexing his cares of State, when he 
 entered his home the wearing anxiety would leave 
 his brow, and in place of the sternness of his mouth, 
 which indeed after the death of Count Louis had 
 become almost grim and harsh, a smile of gentle 
 serenity was seen oftenest. In very sooth, for all 
 his greatness never saw I man more dependent on 
 love, more sensitive to womanly sympathy, than 
 our great stadtholder. 
 
 The devotion of the people to my lady was bound 
 less, and their pride in her modest but royal loveli 
 ness was often touching to me. She gave their 
 poor, starved hearts and downtrodden lives the 
 touch they needed of beauty and grace and sweet 
 majesty. "Ah," I have heard men say as she 
 passed, "the Bourbon blood is generous and right 
 royal. You can see it in every movement of Ma 
 dame, in every step she takes ! " 
 
 Wherever sorrow and poverty entered in, and in 
 truth this was on every hand in those days, there 
 my lady followed with gracious gifts and her own 
 loving-kindness. What wonder all adored her ! 
 
 Ah, they were blessed years to us, for all the 
 public cares they brought. 
 
 Count John of Nassau (I have learned he was 
 bitterly opposed to monseigneur's marriage), after 
 coming to Holland and sojourning in our household 
 wrote that he found the prince " in excellent health, 
 and in spite of adversity, incredible labor, perplexity 
 and dangers, in such good spirits that it makes me 
 happy to witness it. No doubt," he added, " a chief 
 reason is the consolation he derives from the devout 
 and highly-intelligent wife whom the Lord has given 
 him a woman who ever conforms to his wishes and 
 is inexpressibly dear to him."
 
 440 
 
 My lady completely won his heart, and a brave 
 and generous heart it is. He has given all that he 
 had to the prince's cause, himself with the rest. 
 
 Soon after the visit of Doctor Leoninus a second 
 daughter was born to their excellencies under this 
 roof, and great was our rejoicing. 
 
 The Queen of England, who had veered around 
 now to the side of the prince, had promised to stand 
 sponsor to our Middelburg baby, and a great chris 
 tening feast was held here in the Stadthuis, to which 
 many guests, including the burgomasters of Flush 
 ing and Veere, were bidden. Later, in Dort, the 
 child, who has always been my especial nursling, 
 was christened and given the name Elizabeth, Sir 
 Philip Sidney, an equerry and favorite of the Eng 
 lish queen, standing as her majesty's proxy. 
 
 On this occasion we all were deeply touched by 
 the resemblance of the young English nobleman to 
 our own lamented Louis of Nassau, and the prince 
 and my lady gave him every proof of deep regard, 
 for, indeed, monseigneur says, he sees in him one of 
 the ablest statesmen in Europe. Sir "Philip has ar 
 dently espoused the prince's cause, and will use all 
 the influence he may with his selfish and shifting 
 queen for our poor Netherlands. 
 
 In the autumn of that year my lady took her 
 little children, and the older Nassau children, Marie, 
 Maurice, Anne, and Emilia, who had been brought 
 by monseigneur's brother, Count John, from Dillen- 
 burg, and removed her residence for a time to the 
 prince's ancestral castle of Breda, so long in the 
 enemy's hands, but now restored. 
 
 The Princess Marie, a charming maiden of twenty- 
 one, came straight into my lady's heart, as did the 
 younger princesses, and it was beautiful to see her 
 motherly and yet more sisterly tenderness to them. 
 "All our children, big and little," is the way she 
 ever wrote of them to their father. The young 
 Prince Maurice is a handsome, mettlesome youth,
 
 441 
 
 with a high opinion of himself, and indeed he has 
 much intellect and a wondrous masterful spirit. 
 My husband often speaks of being at Dillenburg 
 Castle on the night when he was born. 
 
 After this, for reasons of State, the prince resided 
 much of the time in Antwerp, for a year and more, 
 and there my lady's heart was gladdened by the 
 coming of the Chevalier de la Noue and other French 
 gentlemen, who now attached themselves with ar 
 dent devotion to the service and court of monseig- 
 neur. Deepest joy of all, however, was it that the 
 inexorable coldness of her father, the Due de Mont- 
 pensier, yielded at last to the intercession of our 
 dear Madame d'Albret's son, the King of Navarre, 
 who espoused my lady's cause with most earnest 
 zeal. The Due acknowledged her again as his 
 daughter and wrote in affectionate and honorable 
 terms to her husband and children. Furthermore, 
 he has issued an official manifesto as peer of 
 France, which has been published far and wide. 
 In this he declared his full approval of the marriage 
 of the princess and his grace of Orange, as being 
 " useful, profitable, and honorable for our daughter, 
 and for the state and greatness of our house," and 
 concluded as follows: 
 
 "Wherefore -we request and require the Imperial 
 Majesty and all the kings, princes and sovereign 
 potentates with whom we have the honor of being 
 related and allied, as well as other lords and princes, 
 our good friends, that if any question, trouble or 
 quarrel is spread abroad in the matter of this said 
 marriage, or to the prejudice of the children thereof, 
 born or yet to be born, be it regarding their estate, 
 condition, or otherwise, it may please them to take 
 their honor in hand and to have and receive them 
 in their good protection, giving them such comfort, 
 aid and favor as all princes are wont to use, the one 
 toward the others," etc. . .
 
 442 
 
 Thus happily ended the long, one-sided battle be 
 tween the proud and powerful father and the weak, 
 defenseless child ; and it was the latter, after all, 
 who won. 
 
 Monseigneur the prince had not been slow in dis 
 covering that my lady's wise administration of 
 affairs at Jouarre had given her skill in the direction 
 of public matters. Every year he grew to depend 
 more upon her in this sort and she frequently acted 
 as viceroy for him in his many absences from Ant 
 werp and ever wisely and well. 
 
 But Antwerp was never heart's home to my lady 
 as was this dear Middelburg Heerenhuis, and in 
 truth I think she ever dreaded it as a treacherous 
 and turbulent town, her anxieties for the prince 
 being always keenest when he was there and out 
 of her sight. 
 
 So, after their long tarrying in Antwerp, right glad 
 was I when in April, two years ago, it seems not 
 so long, a blithe little letter from my dear lady 
 told me to have the house ready, for they were all 
 coming to Middelburg for a time. 
 
 Great preparations were made in the city to re 
 ceive the family with pomp and feasting, but me- 
 thinks no hearts were so glad as ours as we made 
 ready the beautiful rooms so long unused. 
 
 When the first excitement was over, my lady 
 and I had long quiet mornings together with the 
 children, and many a stroll through the beautiful 
 abbey gardens and along the green and curving 
 banks of the city moat in the spring sunshine, the 
 babies and their nurses coming after, and all so gay 
 and joyous. 
 
 It was thus we were walking, how well I re 
 member it, the broad waters moving swiftly un 
 der the April breeze, and the children shouting to 
 us that the bluebirds were singing and summer 
 must be near, when, against a trunk of a tree my 
 lady chanced to notice a placard, fresh printed,
 
 443 
 
 which shone white in the sun, and with never a 
 thought of dread, straight up to it she walked and 
 began to read. 
 
 We never knew who placed it there. After 
 ward they were common enough, sown indeed 
 like evil seed in every city. 
 
 For this is what my lady read, her face growing 
 ever whiter : 
 
 " Philip, by the grace of God, King of Castile, etc., 
 etc., to all to whom these presents shall come. Whereas, 
 William of Nassau, a foreigner in our realms, once 
 honored and promoted by the late emperor and by our 
 selves, has by sinister practices and arts gained over 
 malcontents, etc., etc., . . and whereas he has taken 
 a consecrated mm and abbess in the lifetime of his 
 own lawful wife and still lives with her in infamy 
 . . . and whereas the country can have no peace 
 whilst this wretched hypocrite troubles it, . . 
 
 " We hereby now declare this head and chief au 
 thor of all our troubles to be a traitor and miscreant, 
 an enemy of ourselves and our country. We interdict 
 all our subjects from supplying him with lodging, food, 
 water, or fire under pain of our royal indignation. . . 
 We empower all and every to sei^e the person and the 
 goods of this William of Nassau as enemy of the hu 
 man race ; and hereby, on the word of a king and as 
 minister of God, we promise to any one who has the 
 heart to free us of this pest, and who will deliver him 
 alive or dead, or take his life, the sum of 25,000 crowns 
 in gold. . . We will pardon him any crime, if he 
 has been guilty, and give him a patent of nobility, if he 
 be not noble," etc., etc. 
 
 Every word of that infamous Ban was burned 
 into my brain as if with letters of fire. It was the 
 closing, craven stab of the prince's ancient enemy, 
 Philip's evil genius, Granvelle, and envenomed 
 with his hideous hatred.
 
 444 
 
 We called for our carriages and drove home in 
 silence. My lady did not cry out nor faint, but 
 her face looked as if carved out of stone and I 
 think from that moment she never doubted what 
 the end should be. 
 
 In the portico stood monseigneur as we reached 
 the house. I knew he had been watching for my 
 lady's coming, fearing this dastardly placard had 
 met her eyes, since he knew it to have reached 
 Middelburg. That he had read it I knew on the 
 instant, by the proud way he held his head and by 
 the fire in his dark eyes. 
 
 " Come, ma mie," he said with a tenderness un- 
 tellable, and taking her hand he led her into the 
 Prinzen-Saal and I saw him point to the beautiful 
 window on which he had caused her arms to be 
 blazoned, within a wreath of Bourbon lilies, and 
 the motto below, " Candidior candidis." 
 
 " My lily ! " he said, " my purest, my dearest," 
 and he kissed her on brow and lips. 
 
 I closed the door softly, and came away to weep. 
 
 Life has gone on bravely in the two years since 
 then and we all have sought to do our part cheer 
 fully, and no one ever heard a murmur pass my 
 lady's lips, but we have wrought as under the 
 shadow of death. The prince has never for a mo 
 ment faltered or failed in his steady courage, put 
 ting the whole matter by, when once he had made 
 answer in a proud and dauntless " Apology." 
 
 There have been birth and death and marriage 
 among us, for two little daughters have been born 
 to their excellencies ; Count John of Nassau has 
 been married to our dear Heidelberg princess the 
 Lady Kunigunde, and sister Jacqueline has left us 
 to live with them ; while the venerable Countess 
 Juliana, our prince's mother, has gone to those so 
 dear to her who died for God and country. 
 
 Last summer a great and solemn deed took place, 
 for the estates of the United Provinces by oath ab-
 
 445 
 
 jured their fealty to the King of Spain and declared 
 him deposed forever, by reason of his intolerable 
 tyranny, from the sovereignty of the Netherlands 
 received from his father in the year '55. 
 
 God grant that never again may our long-suffer 
 ing land be brought under that cruel yoke ! No 
 one can foresee the end. The Prince of Parma, 
 the present Spanish governor, is a man of craft 
 and cruelty, far abler than Don John, a powerful 
 general, and full of subtle scheming. 
 
 The sovereignty of Spain being now set aside, 
 and the Provinces free and independent, monseig- 
 neur not daring, however, to believe that they, 
 small and defenseless, could stand alone without 
 the protection of one of the great powers, the pro 
 tectorate had been offered to monsieur, the Due 
 d'Anjou, brother to our French king, Henri III., of 
 Valois, and now succeeding his brother as a suitor 
 for the hand of Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 Monsieur, who was well pleased to assume the 
 over-lordship of so fair a domain, accordingly 
 marched over the border in August with five thou 
 sand gentlemen, and having gained considerable 
 favor, and yet not wholly won over the estates, 
 which were slow to put their trust in a son of 
 Catharine de Medici, betook himself presently to 
 England to woo its frigid and fickle virgin queen. 
 
 In November we heard from St. Aldegonde, who 
 was at the English court, that the royal pair had 
 exchanged rings and that the marriage was really 
 arranged. There was rejoicing then everywhere 
 in the Netherlands, since such alliance would give 
 our people a doubly strong defender ; but to-day it 
 seems to me farther off than ever. Since I have 
 seen monsieur I would wager a round sum that 
 her majesty of England, who has the handsomest 
 man in Europe, Robert Dudley, ever at her feet, 
 will never take for her husband the ugly, froglike, 
 weak-kneed youngest son of Catharine de Medici.
 
 446 
 
 It is just four months ago that amid the greatest 
 excitement, monsieur, with his suite and a great 
 following of English noblemen, given him as escort 
 by the English queen, entered Middelburg, having 
 landed the day before in Flushing, crossing from 
 Dover, thus ending his sojourn in England, known 
 there, they tell us, as "Monsieur's Days." 
 
 For weeks our city council had been preparing 
 for the event, and truly monsieur received a bril 
 liant ovation as he entered Middelburg, for every 
 turret of our Stadthuis and of the great abbey 
 blazed with torches, the order being given also that 
 " the great bell shall toll and pitch-barrels shall be 
 burned on the choir of the abbey, and also before 
 his excellency's door, and on the market place." 
 
 Monseigneur had gone to Flushing to receive the 
 royal party, and my lady had brought her wee 
 baby, born in Antwerp in December and named 
 Amalie for the electress, to join the other little 
 children whom I had kept all winter here. She 
 could not await the coming of the Due in Antwerp, 
 for monsieur was to bring in his train her beloved 
 brother, Francois de Bourbon, the prince-dauphin, 
 whom she had not seen for- all these long years. 
 
 He was lodged in the abbey with monsieur and 
 the gentlemen of his suite, but made all haste to 
 the Lange Delft, and the brother and sister had a 
 most affecting meeting, while the cannonading and 
 speech-making and banqueting went on before and 
 within the Stadthuis. How we rejoice now that 
 this long-cherished desire was fulfilled ere it was 
 too late. 
 
 The English gentlemen, the Earl of Leicester, 
 Sir Philip Sidney, and half a dozen great lords be 
 sides, were lodged here in the Heerenhuis, which 
 hud been excellently re-furnished for their use, the 
 many chambers surrounding the great court, of old 
 used for the apprentices and the printery of Nor- 
 bert's father, Nikolaas Tontorf, having been wholly
 
 447 
 
 made over and transformed into goodly order, meet 
 for such illustrious guests. 
 
 In the morning following, quite without premedi 
 tation, a small levee was held by my lady in the 
 Prinzen-Saal with all her little children. For my 
 Lord of Leicester had begged that he might see the 
 godchild of his queen, our little Elizabeth, and the 
 other children of their excellencies as well. They 
 being fetched, my lady stood with all her babies 
 about her, her brother at her side watching the 
 pretty troop with wondering admiration. 
 
 The little Elizabeth, who is now five years of 
 age (she has her mother's golden hair and her 
 father's large brown eyes), wore the diamond and 
 ruby ring sent her by the English queen, and 
 held out her tiny hand in a most diverting manner 
 for my Lord of Leicester and the rest to kiss. 
 
 The Sieur de Minay, who is ever in accord with 
 me, says the same I shall remember my lady for 
 ever as she stood there then so queenly, albeit so 
 unconscious of herself. She was ever most fair, 
 most serene when with her children, for only then, 
 I think, could she forget that dread for the prince 
 which wore ceaselessly at her heart. Her color 
 was still exceeding delicate from her late confine 
 ment, but the joyous excitement had brought a 
 pink bloom to her cheeks, and her great blue eyes, 
 as divinely innocent as those of her children, were 
 shining with all a mother's rapture of adoring 
 pride. 
 
 I saw with what reverence my lord of Leicester 
 regarded her, and, as for his gallant nephew, Sid 
 ney, he could scarce withdraw his eyes from her 
 face, and methought the homage of his look ren 
 dered more palpable than ever that strange resem 
 blance of his to Count Louis. It is my own fond 
 belief that neither gentleman had ever chanced to 
 see so fair a pattern of all wifely and motherly ex 
 cellence as was then before their eyes.
 
 448 
 
 I noted Francois de Bourbon, my lady's brother, 
 as he turned and spoke aside to Sir Philip, and I 
 heard the latter gentleman say under his breath : 
 
 " Purer than a nun, patienter than Griselda, 
 prouder than our English queen." 
 
 It was then that monseigneur entered, coming 
 from attendance upon the Due at the abbey, and 
 found the English noblemen thus gathered around 
 his wife and their children. Not less deferentially 
 than they, and methought with a grace that ex 
 ceeded them all, his highness quietly greeted Ma 
 dame, and as he bent and kissed her brow, I at least 
 caught the radiance of their mutual glance, and I 
 saw my lady in that moment crowned with a nobler 
 crown than her majesty of England can ever wear. 
 
 Then presently monseigneur was fain to carry 
 my lord of Leicester hence to the abbey to confer 
 with the Due, and with them went the other gentle 
 men and my lady also withdrew with her children. 
 But Sir Philip Sidney begged me to abide yet a 
 little and keep the Princess Elizabeth in his sight, 
 that so he might the better report her pretty prattle 
 to his mistress. Accordingly I was present while 
 he talked with the Sieur de Minay and with my 
 husband, for as was to be expected, the child was 
 soon overlooked for graver concerns. 
 
 "How chanceth it, monsieur," quoth Sir Philip 
 presently, "that his grace of Orange hath attained 
 so rare a height, for verily the man puts greatness 
 away from himself, as a thing for which he hath no 
 relish, and yet seems withal but the greater and 
 more imposing." 
 
 "Your lordship," replied the good d'Averly, 
 " the Prince of Orange shows in the highest degree 
 what life can do with a man who by the grace of 
 God has made a glory of failure and a majesty of 
 defeat." 
 
 " How mean you, monsieur ? " responded Sidney, 
 his face showing inteqt interest.
 
 449 
 
 " Your lordship has but to remember," said the 
 Sieur de Minay, " that the prince began life a grand 
 seigneur, an aristocrat, a monarchist to the core. 
 His morals were those of the court of Charles V., 
 his statesmanship was that of Machiavelli, learned 
 in the same court ; he was of vast wealth and am 
 bition, and up to the time Granvelle left the Nether 
 lands, singularly successful." 
 
 " Where, 1 pray you tell me, sir," interposed Sid 
 ney, " did his reverses begin, for in England he is 
 not reckoned a highly successful man ? " 
 
 "They began," returned d'Averly slowly, "when 
 he took into his heart the seed of revolt against 
 political and religious tyranny. It was a seed which 
 germinated slowly, but which has grown to be the 
 governing force of monseigneur's life. It has made 
 him great, but his greatness has been won not by 
 brilliant successes, but by slow stages of deepest 
 suffering. Every ambitious scheme, every flatter 
 ing hope has been successively crushed and brought 
 to naught, and bitterest of all has been the faith 
 lessness and betrayal of his friends. But it was in 
 the depth of defeat that the true chivalric spirit of 
 the man shone forth, for it was then that he emptied 
 himself of selfish schemes and personal ambitions, 
 put away power and prerogative forever, and sunk 
 himself utterly in the forlorn hope of wrenching 
 this exhausted land inch by inch, town by town, 
 from the tyranny of Spain. Can you name a 
 knightlier deed in the high, ancient sense in which 
 the perfect, gentle knight pledged himself to redress 
 all wrongs, to fight for the defenseless, and never to 
 seek his own good or gain ? Here he planted him 
 self, establishing a household of such noble sim 
 plicity as your lordship sees, calling to his side my 
 own beloved lady, a homeless, dependent maiden 
 as great of nature as himself. With magnificent 
 coldness he has rejected the many attempts to win 
 him by promises the most seductive, of power and 
 
 2D
 
 450 
 
 grandeur, to forsake these poor Provinces, which 
 almost against his own will, he, the monarchist, has 
 welded into a republic. He has scorned alike bribe 
 and ban, and will maintain the freedom of this new 
 born republic even if it costs life itself. But, even 
 now, who can foresee the issue ? " 
 
 " Monsieur," said Sir Philip, who had listened with 
 deep emotion, " the prince is fighting the battle of 
 freedom not for these Provinces alone, but for the 
 human spirit. He may die, but he cannot fail ! " 
 
 Five days the great folk tarried here in Middel- 
 burg and then went on in splendid state to Antwerp. 
 My dear husband attended them, while I remained 
 with the children of their excellencies here. Nor- 
 bert has associations so gloomy with Antwerp that 
 he never goes there I believe save with a presenti 
 ment of evil, and so it was this time ; but besides 
 him all were full of gladness. 
 
 Just one month from the day that they entered 
 Antwerp in triumph, the festivities being now over 
 and the prince chiefly concerned in presenting Mon 
 sieur d'Anjou to his new people in as favorable 
 seeming as might be, the blow, so long dreaded, fell 
 upon us. The Ban at last has begun its work. 
 
 On Sunday, March the eighteenth, our prince was 
 shot through the throat and jaw and mortally 
 wounded as all believed, by a mysterious man of 
 vulgar aspect, who presented him with a petition 
 as he passed from dinner with his guests. The 
 assassin was killed on the spot, being pierced in 
 thirty-two places by the halberdiers. 
 
 I have heard the whole terrible story now from 
 Norbert, and most amazing is it to him even above 
 others. 
 
 While the excitement following the attack was 
 still at its height, my lord, as was supposed, dying, 
 my lady going from one swoon into another, each 
 man looking upon each with suspicion, as a possible
 
 accomplice in a dark plot, and all believing that 
 Monsieur d'Anjou was at the bottom of the treach 
 ery, with another Valois conspiracy akin to Bar 
 tholomew, Norbert, as captain of the prince's body 
 guard, was called by St. Aldegonde into a close- 
 locked ante-room. It was next that in which lay 
 the body of the murderer. 
 
 "Hither, Tontorf ! " he cried, his hands full of 
 papers. " Upon your faith, thank God, I can rely ! 
 and you can keep a cool head. Take a look with 
 me at these dirty belongings of yonder wretch. 
 They are the contents of his pockets. Let us get 
 speedily to the bottom of this business and find if 
 that infernal bullet was French or Spanish." 
 
 They spread the collection out upon a table an 
 Agnus Dei, a green wax taper, two dried toads, 
 used as charms, a number of bills of exchange, a 
 Jesuit catechism, a set of tablets scrawled over 
 with vows to divers saints, and I forget what be 
 sides. My husband scanned the bills narrowly 
 and suddenly, with I know not what fierce impre 
 cation, exclaimed : 
 
 " Instantly ! let me see the body ! " 
 
 At the inner door, on guard, stood young Prince 
 Maurice, white as the dead, but cool and unflinch 
 ing, directing all that was done. Reluctantly he 
 permitted Norbert's entrance. 
 
 For a moment my husband stood gazing fixedly 
 at the hideous form of the murderer, a strange sense 
 of something familiar in his face growing ever 
 stronger. Then with a swift rush of memory and 
 a countenance which men say was terrible, he cried : 
 " It was no French but a Spanish bullet! There 
 is no Valois plot ! I know this fellow ! His name 
 was Juan Jaureguy, and he was sent to do his foul 
 deed by that Spanish devil, Caspar d'Anastro ! " 
 
 With that he burst from the place, called the 
 guard together, and marched them straight to the 
 Rue d'Augustin, and to that house of evil memory,
 
 452 
 
 where he and poor little Jacqueline were so long 
 imprisoned, fifteen years ago. 
 
 At the door they were met by the man whom I 
 believe of all men Norbert most abhorred, the cash 
 ier Venero, the tool whom Anastro used before for 
 his murderous purposes. Except the paramour of 
 Anastro, the members of the merchant's family 
 had returned to their old habitation within the year 
 and quietly established themselves. 
 
 "Arrest that man on the spot!" my husband 
 thundered, and pressed his way on into the house, 
 giving Venero in one look a prophecy full stern of 
 the retribution which was waiting on his evil deeds. 
 
 In an inner room they found another whom Nor 
 bert recognized, the padre, Antony, who on the 
 other terrible occasion had absolved Venero before 
 his crime was committed, and who had just per 
 formed the same diabolical office for the scant-wit- 
 ted scullion, Juan Jaureguy. Him Norbert remem 
 bered as a poor, half-starved urchin about the house. 
 This friar they promptly arrested. For the arch- 
 conspirator, the cold, calculating coward, Anastro, 
 they sought in vain. The crafty Spaniard, too 
 wary to risk his own life, had taken his passport 
 and left Antwerp on the preceding Tuesday, and 
 was even then safe under the protection of the 
 Duke of Parma, who gloried in his deed, which was 
 then fully believed to be successful. 
 
 Venero has made a full confession in my hus 
 band's presence. 
 
 Anastro, it seems, hard pressed and greedy for 
 gold as ever, stimulated by the Ban had entered 
 into a compact with King Philip to take the prince's 
 life within a certain period. If successful he was 
 to receive eighty thousand ducats and the cross of 
 Santiago. He had compounded with Venero and 
 Jaureguy to do the deed, convincing them that the 
 prince deserved death for the crime of Ihe-majeste. 
 He had fooled the latter into believing that he could
 
 453 
 
 render him invisible by his magic arts, as soon as 
 the murder was committed. He promised to make 
 both miscreants his sons and to divide his property 
 between them. In fine, he had played upon their 
 fidelity, their superstition, and their cupidity until 
 they were powerless to resist him. And yet he has 
 gone unpunished, and these poor wretches alone 
 have suffered the penalty. 
 
 Of a surety I can say, our prince is the first gen 
 tleman in Europe ! When he was shot, a prayer for 
 mercy for Jaureguy, a cry that he forgave him his 
 death, were his first words. Then later it was his 
 earnest desire that these accomplices be not tor 
 tured before their death, while he was far less con 
 cerned as to his own recovery than to shield Mon 
 sieur d'Anjou from suspicion. As ever, his thought 
 was for himself last of all, and first of all it was for 
 our land and its weal ; his sufferings were borne 
 with an incredible sweetness, and his noble spirit 
 seemed to conquer even the approach of death that 
 so he might still live to save his people. 
 
 As for the people of Antwerp and of all our cities, 
 they thronged their streets, crying aloud with sobs 
 and tears for their prince, their father, their only 
 shield and succour. Meanwhile, Anastro, safe- 
 shielded in Parma's camp, was writing exultant let 
 ters to King Philip, assuming the full success of his 
 plot, and greedily craving his reward. 
 
 On Wednesday, there being then as it was 
 thought no hope, all Antwerp held a solemn fast 
 and the churches overflowed with the weeping peo 
 ple flocking to them to pray for monseigneur. 
 
 A week later, and the execution of Venero and 
 the friar having taken place in the square opposite 
 the town hall, it was then thought the prince 
 showed signs of mending. This continued until 
 April fifth when renewed hemorrhage from the 
 half-healed wound made a danger graver than ever. 
 This peril was overcome by means of the pressure
 
 454 
 
 of the thumb of his attendants upon the wound 
 which was continued day and night for more than 
 a week. 
 
 My lady, who had rallied as soon as she found 
 there was a ray of hope, could hardly be persuaded 
 to leave her lord for an hour. Her hand was the 
 one oftenest at his service, and it was her love 
 which slowly brought him back to life. But even 
 the strength which love gave her sometimes failed 
 under the terrible suspense, and many a time she 
 was borne away fainting. Day by day I could see 
 her body decline until nought of her seemed left 
 alive save the puissant spirit. But meanwhile for 
 monsiegneur hope grew stronger and became cer 
 tainty, so that on the second day of May all Ant 
 werp again gathered in the great cathedral and the 
 joy bells rang out over all the city for a general 
 thanksgiving. 
 
 The prince was restored. He could even go with 
 the multitude to the cathedral to join in the voice 
 of praise. But my lady ? Ah, no, that joy was 
 not for her. 
 
 He came gaunt and wasted, but never so impo 
 sing, and kissed her ere he left the house. She 
 was standing by a window to watch his going forth. 
 
 "Ma mie," he said, with infinite tenderness, 
 "thy cheeks are paler now than mine. While the 
 others praise, I shall pray for thy better health. 
 God be with thee, sweetheart, who hast saved my 
 life by thy love and faithfulness." 
 
 "Farewell," she said and smiled, and her smile 
 was of an unearthly sweetness, full of strange 
 triumph and yet sadder than any tears I ever saw 
 in mortal eyes. 
 
 Then, the prince having gone forth, my lady 
 turned to me and with a long sobbing breath 
 moaned like a beseeching child : 
 
 " Take me now, Jeanne, faithful friend. I can 
 bear no more. Take care of thy poor Charlotte."
 
 455 
 
 Soon we had her in bed and the physicians were 
 sent for and came hurrying back to that sorrowful 
 house, but she was even then unconscious, and in 
 three days the end came. 
 
 The murderers did not fail of a victim. 
 
 Once only she seemed to know monseigneur and 
 then she smiled in his face that strange smile of 
 ineffable triumph. 
 
 "Sweet to die sweet to die for thee," she 
 whispered, " it was for this 1 prayed." 
 
 Then the strong man bent himself upon her bed, 
 shaken from head to foot by his agony of yearning. 
 
 It was four o'clock and surrrise when she died. 
 
 They laid her in the great cathedral, in the Chapel 
 of the Circumcision, where the chimes shall ring 
 forth their music forever over her grave, and all the 
 city and all the land wept that "so beautiful a 
 soul" had left its mortal dwelling. 
 
 Weeks have passed since I began to indite this 
 record. It was mid-June then and now it is mid 
 summer, and continually I have been going back in 
 mind to that last midsummer of our convent life, 
 eleven years ago. 
 
 Again it is the forest of Fontenay ; Jeannette 
 and I have gone thither with Mademoiselle ; Count 
 Louis is there, the queen-mother, the Majesty of 
 France. Down the vista of the green forest glade 
 again I have seen the girlish figure of my lady, dis 
 tant and wraith-like, and by her side the noble lord 
 of Teligny. They bend toward each other in ear 
 nest speech, but suddenly in the path before me 
 stands the mysterious Romany woman and, as I 
 follow her fixed gaze, I dimly discern other two ; 
 beside my lady walks the form of a goodly knight 
 (a form which to-day 1 know full well) beside Te 
 ligny, a woman, whose face 1 cannot see, who 
 wrings her hands. 
 
 The gypsy at my side is singing now
 
 456 
 
 " Sharp speeds for him life's close ; 
 Myrtle for her and rose 
 Yet death apace." 
 
 Alas, over soon, over well for Teligny, for my 
 lady, has that woful song found fulfillment ! 
 
 But there was a second strophe, of yet stranger 
 and more bitter boding. Must it too, then, know 
 fulfillment ? Is there another act in the tragedy of 
 these lives ? Ah, to my lord the prince, what shall 
 be the end? I know only that he seems still to 
 stand within the shadow, and that, to my sight, the 
 seal of martyrdom has never left his brow. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 [In the last will and testament of that very high and puis 
 sant lady, Charlotte de Bourbon, Princess of Orange, done 
 on the twelfth day of November, in the year of grace 1581, in 
 the city of Antwerp, the first legacies named are as follows : 
 
 " To the Sieur de Tontorf and to his wife, twelve hundred florins 
 outright and two hundred livres income during their lives in con 
 sideration of the good services which I have received from them, 
 and especially from the said wife, who has served me with such care 
 and fidelity for the space of twenty years that 1 have great cause for 
 satisfaction therewith. For this reason I very humbly beg my lord 
 the prince to have regard to this and to retain the said Tontorf m 
 his service with the compensation hitherto given him, &c. . . I de 
 sire that it shall please him also to keep Madame Tontorf in at 
 tendance on our children with the customary consideration which I 
 give her. 
 
 " / leave also to the Sieur de Minay three hundred livres income 
 during his life, besides twelve hundred livres to be paid at one time as 
 J have already ordered, in recognition of the service which he has 
 rendered me, having accompanied me from France into Germany 
 and having stood by me three years in Heidelberg in order to assist 
 me in my affairs ; wherefore I very humbly beseech monsieur the 
 prince, my husband, to give him the use, during his life, of the lands 
 of Mont fort, Cuisseaux and TSeaurepere, situated in the Duchy of 
 Tlourgogne, with honorable maintenance"]
 
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