h a Spanish cavalier, and was in
consequence dropped by her own admirer, why the best thing she could do
was to marry as soon as possible.

So the pair, who looked handsome enough before the altar, were wed,
and went to taste of such nuptial bliss as was reserved for them in
Lysbeth's comfortable house in the Bree Straat. Here they lived almost
alone, for Lysbeth's countrymen and women showed their disapproval
of her conduct by avoiding her company, and, for reasons of his own,
Montalvo did not encourage the visiting of Spaniards at his house.
Moreover, the servants were changed, while Tante Clara and the girl
Greta had also disappeared. Indeed, Lysbeth, finding out the false
part which they had played towards her, dismissed them both before her
marriage.

It will be guessed that after the events that led to their union Lysbeth
took little pleasure in her husband's society. She was not one of those
women who can acquiesce in marriage by fraud or capture, and even learn
to love the hand which snared them. So it came about that to Montalvo
she spoke very seldom; indeed after the first week of marriage she only
saw him on rare occasions. Very soon he found out that his presence was
hateful to her, and turned her detestation to account with his usual
cleverness. In other words, Lysbeth bought freedom by parting with her
property--in fact, a regular tariff was established, so many guilders
for a week's liberty, so many for a month's.

This was an arrangement that suited Montalvo well enough, for in his
heart he was terrified of this woman, whose beautiful face had frozen
into a perpetual mask of watchful hatred. He could not forget that
frightful curse which had taken deep root in his superstitious mind, and
already seemed to flourish there, for it was true that since she spoke
it he had never known a quiet hour. How could he when he was haunted
night and day by the fear lest his wife should murder him?

Surely, if ever Death looked out of a woman's eyes it looked out of
hers, and it seemed to him that such a deed might trouble her conscience
little; that she might consider it in the light of an execution, and not
as a murder. Bah! he could not bear to think of it. What would it be
to drink his wine one day and then feel a hand of fire gripping at his
vitals because poison had been set within the cup; or, worse still,
if anything could be worse, to wake at night and find a stiletto point
grating against his backbone? Lit