apting themselves to the needs and
circumstances of us moderns, haven't they?"

Then Lysbeth's pride broke down, and, in the abandonment of her despair,
flinging herself upon her knees before this monster, she begged for her
husband's life, begged, in the name of God, yes, and even in the name
of Montalvo's son, Adrian. So low had her misery brought her that she
pleaded with the man by the son of shame whom she had borne to him.

He prayed her to rise. "I want to save your husband's life," he said. "I
give you my word that if only he will tell me what I desire to know, I
will save it; yes, although the risk is great, I will even manage his
escape, and I shall ask you to go upstairs presently and explain my
amiable intentions to him." Then he thought a moment and added, "But
you mentioned one Adrian. Pray do you mean the gentleman whose signature
appears here?" and he handed her another document, saying, "Read it
quietly, there is no hurry. The good Dirk is not starving yet; I am
informed, indeed, that he has just made an excellent breakfast--not his
last by many thousands, let us hope."

Lysbeth took the sheets and glanced at them. Then her intelligence
awoke, and she read on fiercely until her eye came to the well-known
signature at the foot of the last page. She cast the roll down with a
cry as though a serpent had sprung from its pages and bitten her.

"I fear that you are pained," said Montalvo sympathetically, "and no
wonder, for myself I have gone through such disillusionments, and know
how they wound a generous nature. That's why I showed you this document,
because I also am generous and wish to warn you against this young
gentleman, who, I understand, you allege is my son. You see the person
who would betray his brother might even go a step further and betray his
mother, so, if you take my advice, you will keep an eye upon the young
man. Also I am bound to remind you that it is more or less your
own fault. It is a most unlucky thing to curse a child before it is
born--you remember the incident? That curse has come home to roost with
a vengeance. What a warning against giving way to the passion of the
moment!"

Lysbeth heeded him no longer; she was thinking as she had never thought
before. At that moment, as though by an inspiration, there floated into
her mind the words of the dead Vrouw Jansen: "The plague, I wish that I
had caught it before, for then I would have taken it to him in prison,
and they couldn