should now be devoted to
the people who had come to the fair. He and Van Hout undertook to provide
for them, and Adrian was soon standing with his father and the city clerk
among the crowds of people, who had been roused from sleep by the wailing
iron voice from the Tower or Pancratius.

CHAPTER XIX.

Adrian's activity for this night was not yet over, for his father did not
prevent his accompanying him to the town-hall. There he directed him to
tell his mother, that he should be busy until morning and the servant
might send all persons, who desired to speak to him after one o'clock, to
the timber-market on the Rhine. Maria sent the boy back to the town-hall,
to ask his father if he did not want his cloak, wine, a lunch or anything
of the sort.

The boy fulfilled this commission with great zeal, for he never had felt
so important as while forcing his way through the crowds that had
gathered in the narrower streets; he had a duty to perform, and at night,
the time when other boys were asleep, especially his school-mates, who
certainly would not be allowed to leave the house now. Besides, an
eventful period, full of the beating of drums, the blare of trumpets, the
rattle of musketry and roar of cannon might be expected. It seemed as if
the game "Holland against Spain" was to be continued in earnest, and on a
grand scale. All the vivacity of his years seized upon him, and when he
had forced a way with his elbows to less crowded places, he dashed
hurriedly along, shouting as merrily as if spreading some joyful news in
the darkness:

"They are coming!" "the Spaniards!" or "Hannibal ante portas."

After learning on his return to the town-hall, that his father wanted
nothing and would send a constable if there was need of anything, he
considered his errand done and felt entitled to satisfy his curiosity.

This drew him first to the English riders. The tent where they had given
their performances had disappeared from the earth, and screaming men and
women were rolling up large pieces of canvas, fastening packs, and
swearing while they harnessed horses. The gloomy light of torches mingled
with the moonbeams and showed him on the narrow steps, that led to a
large four-wheeled cart, a little girl in shabby clothes, weeping
bitterly. Could this be the rosy-cheeked angel who, floating along on the
snow-white pony, had seemed to him like a happy creature from more
beautiful worlds? A scolding old woman now lifted the child