s against the walls, but he lacked inclination
to cast even a glance at his motley surroundings. There was nothing
pleasant to him in the present or future. He felt humiliated, guilty,
weary of life. His self-respect was trampled under foot, love and
happiness were forfeited, there was naught before him save a colorless,
charmless future, full of bitterness and mental anguish. Nothing seemed
desirable save a speedy death. At times the fair image of his home rose
before his memory--but it vanished as soon as he recalled the
burgomaster's dignified figure, his own miserable weakness and the
repulse he had experienced. He was full of fierce indignation against
himself, and longed with passionate impatience for the clash of swords
and roar of cannon, the savage struggle man to man.

Time passed without his perceiving it, but a torturing desire for food
began to torment the starving man. There were plenty of turnips piled
against the wall, and he eat one after another, until he experienced the
feeling of satiety he had so long lacked. Then he sat down on a
kneading-trough and considered how he could best get to the Beggars. He
did not know his way, but woe betide those who ventured to oppose him.
His arm and sword were good, and there were Spaniards enough at hand whom
he could make feel the weight of both. His impatience began to rise, and
it seemed like a welcome diversion, when he heard steps approaching and a
man's figure entered the house. He had stationed himself by the wall with
his sword between his folded arms, and now shouted a loud "halt" to the
new-comer.

The latter instantly drew his sword, and when Georg imperiously demanded
what he wanted, replied in a boyish voice, but a proud, resolute tone:

"I ask you that question! I am in my father's house."

"Indeed!" replied the German smiling, for he had now recognized the
speaker's figure by the dim light. I Put up your sword. If you are young
Matanesse Van Wibisma, you have nothing to fear from me."

"I am. But what are you doing on our premises at night, sword in hand?"

"I'm warming the wall to my own satisfaction, or, if you want to know the
truth, mounting guard."

"In our house?"

"Yes, Junker. There is some one up-stairs with your cousins, who wouldn't
like to be surprised by the Spaniards. Go up. I know from Captain Van
Duivenvoorde what a gallant young fellow you are."

"From Herr von Warmond?" asked Nicolas eagerly. "Tell me! what brings you
here