e were various incidents of the evening of the supper
whereof his memory was most imperfect, he concluded that this must be
one of them. So much against his own wishes Dirk sent back an answer to
say that he would appear at the time and place appointed.

This was the third thing that had happened to annoy him that day. First
he had met Pieter van de Werff, who informed him that all Leyden was
talking about Lysbeth and the Captain Montalvo, to whom she was said to
have taken a great fancy. Next when he went to call at the house in the
Bree Straat he was told that both Lysbeth and his cousin Clara had gone
out sleighing, which he did not believe, for as a thaw had set in the
snow was no longer in a condition suitable to that amusement. Moreover,
he could almost have sworn that, as he crossed the street, he caught
sight of Cousin Clara's red face peeping at him from between the
curtains of the upstairs sitting-room. Indeed he said as much to Greta,
who, contrary to custom, had opened the door to him.

"I am sorry if Mynheer sees visions," answered that young woman
imperturbably. "I told Mynheer that the ladies had gone out sleighing."

"I know you did, Greta; but why should they go out sleighing in a wet
thaw?"

"I don't know, Mynheer. Ladies do those things that please them. It is
not my place to ask their reasons."

Dirk looked at Greta, and was convinced that she was lying. He put his
hand in his pocket, to find to his disgust that he had forgotten his
purse. Then he thought of giving her a kiss and trying to melt the truth
out of her in this fashion, but remembering that if he did, she might
tell Lysbeth, which would make matters worse than ever, refrained. So
the end of it was that he merely said "Oh! indeed," and went away.

"Great soft-head," reflected Greta, as she watched his retreating
form, "he knew I was telling lies, why didn't he push past me, or--do
anything. Ah! Mynheer Dirk, if you are not careful that Spaniard will
take your wind. Well, he is more amusing, that's certain. I am tired of
these duck-footed Leydeners, who daren't wink at a donkey lest he should
bray, and among such holy folk somebody a little wicked is rather a
change." Then Greta, who, it may be remembered, came from Brussels, and
had French blood in her veins, went upstairs to make a report to her
mistress, telling her all that passed.

"I did not ask you to speak falsehoods as to my being out sleighing and
the rest. I told you to an