The answer comes haughtily and proudly, and with it there is a sudden light in her brain, and she gasps: “Ah, now I know—! This—this Oliver his friend—the day he rescued me, the day they said the English rover was in Antwerp.” Then she whispers, almost exultation in her voice: “Twice, my love, that day I saved you; to-day I will save you again!” But this dies away into one awful wailing cry, as he of Alva, in a voice as unyielding as the Rock of Ages, says harshly: “Gomez, bring in the executioner!” “The executioner! Father, you don’t understand. This is the man I love.” “You love him?” jeers the Duke. “You love an enemy of your country? This man who was a friend of Oliver, the traitor in my household, whose attack on Mons gave Orange time to rise with all of Holland; this man who robbed me for his queen of my Italian treasure? Bah! you must hate him, girl, as I do,” and he turns to give further orders. At this mention of stolen wealth there is a jeering laugh from Guy, despite himself, but Hermoine puts hand upon his lips and whispers pleadingly: “Don’t anger him, for my sake, my Guido—my Englishman. I can twist papa about my little finger,” and tries to laugh in his face, “See me!” With this she is about Alva’s neck murmuring: “What nonsense do you talk? You always do as your Hermoine tells you. Papa dear, shall I pull your naughty beard?” But he says: “Child, you do not understand. I’ll send to France for gewgaws and new dresses for you. You will soon forget,” then raises up his voice—“The Executioner!” But she will not be put off and apes to laugh: “The executioner?—for the man you have promised me as husband? What NONSENSE! You mean the priest. Goosey dear, send for the priest at once!” But Alva answers harshly: “To shrive him were he not a heretic,” next says sternly, “Gomez, why are you waiting? You have my orders—THE EXECUTIONER!” CHAPTER XXIII. “IT IS AN AFFAIR OF STATE!” Then pandemonium breaks forth in the girl, and she laughs in awful jeer: “My father offers me gewgaws for my lover’s life. Perhaps he’ll toss the gold for my affianced’s head in my lap and think I’ll spend it in buying sweetmeats and dainties for the mouth,” next sobs to Guy, who, the entrances of the room being all guarded, has now no chance of escape save by almost superhuman means: “Oh, Mother of Mercy! why did you not trust me? Did you suppose I loved only a name?” then screams out hoarsely: “Father, spare him! You promised! Spare at least his life. Father, mercy for ME!” For there is a bustle outside, the noise of men coming into the house; but it is only the lieutenant of the guard who enters, a fiddle dripping with blood in his hand and announces: “We have killed every man in the boat, musicians and all.” At this there is a spasm of hope, the first that has come to Chester. In his military mind has sprung this idea: “The butchery of the musicians was warning to my boats that their captain is beset.”