German fiction -- Translations into English; Netherlands -- History -- Eighty Years' War, 1568-1648 -- Fiction
He saw nothing, heard nothing, and when she at last called him, started,
sprang up and flung his hat violently on the table. His hair was
dishevelled, his glance restless, and in the faint light of the
glimmering candles his cheeks looked deadly pale.
"What do you want?" he asked curtly, in a harsh voice; but for a time
Maria made no reply, fear paralyzed her tongue.
At last she found words, and deep anxiety was apparent in her question:
"What has happened?"
"The beginning of the end," he answered in a hollow tone.
"They have out-voted you?" cried the young wife. "Baersdorp and the
other cowards want to negotiate?"
Peter drew himself up to his full height, and exclaimed in a loud,
threatening tone:
"Guard your tongue! He who remains steadfast until his children die
and corpses bar the way in front of his own house, he who bears the
responsibility of a thousand deaths, endures curses and imprecations
through long weeks, and has vainly hoped for deliverance during more
than a third of a year--he who, wherever he looks, sees nothing save
unprecedented, constantly increasing misery and then no longer repels the
saving hand of the foe--"
"Is a coward, a traitor, who breaks the sacred oath he has sworn."
"Maria," cried Peter angrily, approaching with a threatening gesture.
She drew her slender figure up to its full height and with quickened
breath awaited him, pointing her finger at him, as she exclaimed with a
sharp tone perceptible through the slight tremor in her voice:
"You, you have voted with the Baersdorps, you, Peter Van der Werff!
You have done this thing, you, the friend of the Prince, the shield and
providence of this brave city, you, the man who received the oaths of the
citizens, the martyr's son, the servant of liberty--"
"No more!" he interrupted, trembling with shame and rage. "Do you know
what it is to bear the guilt of this most terrible suffering before God
and men?"
"Yes, yes, thrice yes; it is laying one's heart on the rack, to save
Holland and liberty. That is what it means! Oh, God, my God! You are
lost! You intend to negotiate with Valdez!"
"And suppose I do?" asked the burgomaster, with an angry gesture.
Maria looked him sternly in the eye, and exclaimed in a loud, resolute
tone:
"Then it will be my turn to say: Go to Delft; we need different men
here."
The burgomaster turned pale and bent his eyes on the floor, while she
fearlessly confronted him with a steady glance.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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