the siege. She glared at the saucepan
retrieved from the Spanish camp as if she would have thrown it at my
head. She thought me capable of denying authenticity to the blocks of
taret-gnawed wood torn from the dykes when a worm made Holland tremble
as Philip of Spain could never do; nor would she forgive me van der
Werf, though I did my best with the tale of that time of fear when men,
women, and children worked their fingers to the bone in restoring what
the worm had destroyed, and keeping the sea from their doors.

I never yielded her a point, all the way up to the Burg, for at least I
was cheating Starr of her. But in the fortress, on the ancient mound
heaped up by Hengist, I and my opinions were forgotten. She wanted to be
let alone, and pretend she was a woman of Leiden, looking out across the
red roofs of the city, through the pitiless red of the sunset, for the
fleet of rescuing barges.

Nevertheless, she did deign to ask how, if the way had been opened for
the sea to flood the land, the people coaxed it to go back again. And
she looked at me as she had looked at Starr, while I told how the thing
had been done; how the water that floated William's fleet for the relief
of the town was but two feet in depth; how only a gale from the south at
the right time sent the waters flowing from the broken dykes above
Schiedam north as far as Leiden; and how no sooner was the city saved
than the wind changed, calling back the waters.

From the walls of the fortress we saw the sun go down; and then, with
Starr in the ascendant again, we strolled through quiet streets,
crossing bridges over canals spread with soft green carpets of moss. But
we were not going to the hotel; and without a word about dinner, I asked
if they would care to see a student's "diggings." I had only to add as a
bribe that Oliver Goldsmith had visited there and carved his initials in
a heart on the wainscotting, to make them eager to climb the steep
stairs which led to my Surprise.

It began by my opening the door at the top with a key--instead of
knocking. This set them to wondering; but I laughed, evading questions,
and lured them into an oak-walled room, dim with twilight.

According to instructions, no lamp or candle had been lighted, but a
glance showed me a large screen wrapped round something in a corner, and
I knew that I hadn't trusted good old Mevrow Hoogeboom in vain.

Now I struck a match from my own match-box, and as the flame flared up,