ublic affairs had been his concern, the kitchen and
nursery hers. What they had shared, was the consciousness of the love
one felt for the other, their children, the distinction, honors and
possessions of the household.

Maria asked more and he was ready to grant it, but when in the evening
she pressed the wearied man with questions he was accustomed to hear
only from the lips of men, he put her off for the answers till less busy
times, or fell asleep in the midst of her inquiries.

She saw how many burdens oppressed him, how unweariedly he toiled--but
why did he not move a portion of the load to other shoulders?

Once, during the beautiful spring weather, he went out with her into the
country. She seized upon the opportunity to represent that it was his
duty to himself and her to gain more rest.

He listened patiently, and when she had finished her entreaty and
warnings, took her hand in his, saying:

"You have met Herr Marnix von St. Aldegonde and know what the cause of
liberty owes him. Do you know his motto?"

She nodded and answered softly: "Repos ailleurs."

"Where else can we rest," he repeated firmly.

A slight shiver ran through her limbs, and as she withdrew her hands,
she could not help thinking: "Where else;-so not here. Rest and
happiness have no home here." She did not utter the words, but could not
drive them from her mind.

CHAPTER XII.

During these May days the Hoogstraten mansion was the quietest of all
the houses in quiet Nobelstrasse. By the orders of Doctor Bontius
and the sick lady's attorney, a mixture of straw and sand lay on the
cause-way before it. The windows were closely curtained, and a piece
of felt hung between the door and the knocker. The door was ajar, but a
servant sat close behind it to answer those who sought admission.

On a morning early in May the musician, Wilhelm Corneliussohn, and Janus
Dousa turned the corner of Nobelstrasse. Both men were engaged in eager
conversation, but as they approached the straw and sand, their voices
became lower and then ceased entirely.

"The carpet we spread under the feet of the conqueror Death," said the
nobleman. "I hope he will lower the torch only once here and do honor to
age, little worthy of respect as it may be. Don't stay too long in the
infected house, Herr Wilhelm."

The musician gently opened the door. The servant silently greeted him
and turned towards the stairs to call Belotti; for the "player-man" had
already