“Cease your mockings, you false priest,” cried Elsa. “Oh! let the swift vengeance of God fall upon every one of you, and first of all upon you, false priest.” Drawing the ring from her finger, as she spoke she cast it down upon the oaken table, whence it sprang up to drop again and rattle itself to silence. Then with one tragic motion of despair, Elsa turned and fled back to her chamber. The red face of Father Thomas went white, and his yellow teeth chattered. “A virgin’s curse,” he muttered, crossing himself. “Misfortune always follows, and it is sometimes death—yes, by St. Thomas, death. And you, you brought me here to do this wickedness, you dog, you galley slave!” “Father,” broke in Ramiro, “you know I have warned you against it before at The Hague; sooner or later it always breaks up the nerves,” and he nodded towards the flagon of spirits. “Bread and water, Father, bread and water for forty days, that is what I prescribe, and——” As he spoke the door was burst open, and two men rushed in, their eyes starting, their very beards bristling with terror. “Come forth!” they cried. “What has chanced?” screamed the priest. “The great dyke has burst—hark, hark, hark! The floods are upon you, the mill will be swept away.” God in Heaven—it was true! Now through the open doorway they heard the roar of waters, whose note Adrian had caught before, yes, and in the gloom appeared their foaming crest as they rushed through the great and ever-widening breach in the lofty dyke down upon the flooded lowland. Father Thomas bounded through the door yelling, “The boat, the boat!” For a moment Ramiro thought, considering the situation, then he said: “Fetch the Jufvrouw. No, not you, Adrian; she would die rather than come with you. You, Simon, and you, Meg. Swift, obey.” They departed on their errand. “Men,” went on Ramiro, “take this gentleman and lead him to the boat. Hold him if he tries to escape. I will follow with the lady. Go, you fool, go, there is not a second to be lost,” and Adrian, hanging back and protesting, was dragged away by the boatmen. Now Ramiro was alone, and though, as he had said, there was little time to spare, again for a few moments he thought deeply. His face flushed and went pale; then entered into it a great resolve. “I don’t like doing it, for it is against my vow, but the chance is good. She is safely married, and at best she would be very troublesome hereafter, and might bring us to justice or to the galleys since others seek her wealth,” he muttered with a shiver, adding, “as for the spies, we are well rid of them and their evidence.” Then, with swift resolution, stepping to the door at the foot of the stairs, Ramiro shut it and shot the great iron bolt!