This tortures her cruelly, but shows how much she loves him, for she grows pale and falters. “For my sake you have risked your life. Promise me you will never risk it thus again. Promise me to return to your post to-day,” then adds, “I have a commission for you. While seeking safety yourself, give safety to this poor merchant’s daughter. He tells me there is a ship which is at your service.” “As I am also at your service with my life!” answers Chester. “Leave this matter in my hands. Without your request I would have saved from degradation the sweetheart of my friend.” He cuts himself short at this, not wishing to discuss Oliver, but Hermoine, taking up his word, says: “Yes, this traitor was your friend!” then asks with anxious lips: “How was it you were so intimate with one untrue to Spain?” “Your father trusted him, why shouldn’t I follow Alva’s lead,” returns the Englishman with ready tongue; but adds sadly: “I am sorry that after this my duty will compel me to run this Oliver through the body.” Then with lie on his lips Guy turns suddenly away, for the Burgomaster’s rap is heard on the door. Opening he speaks hurriedly to Bodé Volcker in a tone so sober that the old man stares at him in wonder and surprise. “At the request of Doña de Alva I have taken your daughter’s safety into my hands. Send order for your twelve cases of goods to be put on board the Esperanza instantly.” “It is already done,” mutters Bodé Volcker, gazing with astonished eyes on Chester; then he falters: “You’re—you’re quite sure you’re sober enough for this business?” “Diablo! sober enough to bleed you,” mutters Guy, remembering his rôle of spendthrift and blackmailer. “Send down sufficiency of money with your daughter to the ship to pay her expenses—and mine too!” And this bringing to the merchant’s mind the character of this Spanish officer, Amati, his reputation as a roisterer and libertine, Niklaas clasps his hands together and murmurs piteously: “I’m putting her in your charge. She is the daughter of my heart. For God’s sake remember you have my money, my life, if you want to denounce me, but spare her. Were it not for my desperate strait do you think I’d place my lamb in your wolf’s charge?” At this complimentary remark Guy grinds his teeth and assuming the hauteur of hidalgo, claps his hand upon his sword and mutters: “Maldito! Have I not sworn to her, the daughter of the Viceroy, to deliver your wench in safety wherever you wish her sent? At what town declared for Orange and occupied by Dutch garrison do you want your daughter delivered? Name the place, and it is done.” “Haarlem!” mutters the old man, “I have friends in Haarlem,” and in after months could have cut his tongue out for these words. “It is done,” remarks Guy. “Bring your daughter to me at once.” “I will. Mina is packing.” “Packing, idiot! Do you suppose she’ll need fine raiment if they have her in the Spin-House? Fly, and save your daughter’s white back from the scourge. Quick!”