now standing before a board,
on which the head of an ox was sketched in charcoal, freely, boldly and
with perfect fidelity to nature.

"What magnificent piece of beef is this?" he asked the landlord.

"No less a personage than Frank Floris sketched it," replied Aquanus.
"He once came here from Brussels and called on Meister Artjen. The old
man had gone out, so Floris took a bit of charcoal and drew these lines
with it. When Artjen came home and found the ox's head, he stood before
it a long time and finally exclaimed: 'Frank Floris, or the devil!' This
story--But there comes the burgomaster. Welcome, Meister Peter. A rare
honor."

All the guests rose and respectfully greated Van der Werff; Georg
started up to offer him his chair. Peter sat down for a short time and
drank a glass of wine, but soon beckoned to the Junker and went out with
him into the street.

There he briefly requested him to go to his house, for they had an
important communication to make, and then went to Van Hout's residence,
which was close beside the inn.

Georg walked thoughtfully towards the burgomaster's.

The "they" could scarcely have referred to any one except Maria. What
could she want of him at so late an hour? Had his friend regretted
having offered him lodgings in her own house? He was to move into his
new quarters early next morning; perhaps she wished to inform him
of this change of mind, before it was too late. Maria treated him
differently from before, there was no doubt of that, but surely this was
natural! He had dreamed of a different, far different meeting! He
had come to Holland to support the good cause of Orange, yet he would
certainly have turned his steed towards his beloved Italy, where a good
sword was always in demand, instead of to the north, had he not hoped to
find in Holland her, whom he had never forgotten, for whom he had never
ceased to long--Now she was the wife of another, a man who had shown him
kindness, given him his confidence. To tear his love from his heart
was impossible; but he owed it to her husband and his own honor to be
strong, to resolutely repress every thought of possessing her, and only
rejoice in seeing her; and this he must try to accomplish.

He had told himself all these things more than once, but realized that
he was walking with unsteady steps, upon a narrow pathway, when she met
him outside the dining-room and he felt how cold and tremulous was the
hand she laid in his.

Maria led