him money to
supply himself in Delft with whatever he needed, and defray his expenses
during the first few weeks; but Nicolas rejected his wealthy friend's
offer, for a purse filled with gold coins hung at his girdle. A jeweller
in the Hague had given them to him yesterday in payment for Fraulein Van
Hoogstraten's emerald ring.

Nicolas showed the captain his treasure, and then exclaimed:

"Now forward, Junker von Dornburg, I know where we shall find them; and
you, Captain Van Duivenvoorde, tell the burgomaster and Janus Dousa what
has become of me."

CHAPTER XXXII.

A week had elapsed since Henrica's flight, and with it a series of days
of severe privation. Maria knew from the musician, that young Matanesse
had accompanied Georg, and that the latter was on his way to the Beggars.
This was the right plan. The bubbling brook belonged to the wild,
rushing, mighty river. She wished him happiness, life and pleasure;
but--strange--since the hour that she tore his verses, the remembrance of
him had receded as far as in the day: before the approach of the
Spaniards. Nay, after her hard-won conquest of herself and his departure,
a rare sense of happiness, amid all her cares and troubles, had taken
possession of the young wife's heart. She had been cruel to herself, and
the inner light of the clear diamond first gleams forth with the right
brilliancy, after it has endured the torture of polishing. She now felt
with joyous gratitude, that she could look Peter frankly in the eye,
grant him love, and ask love in return. He scarcely seemed to notice her
and her management under the burden of his cares, but she felt, that many
things she said and could do for him pleased him. The young wife did not
suffer specially from the long famine, while it caused Barbara pain and
unstrung her vigorous frame. Amid so much suffering, she often sunk into
despair before the cold hearth and empty pots, and no longer thought it
worth while to plait her large cap and ruffs. It was now Maria's turn to
speak words of comfort, and remind her of her son, the Beggar captain,
who would soon enter Leyden.

On the sixth of September the burgomaster's wife was returning home from
an early walk. Autumn mists darkened the air, and the sea-breeze drove a
fine, drizzling spray through the streets. The dripping trees had long
since been robbed of their leaves, not by wind and storm, but by children
and adults, who had carried the caterpillars' food to t