My guards led me to the doctor's house, where we found him seated at a table on which were spread a handful of feathers, a piece of fish--smelling stale--bits of touchwood, and other rubbish. As we entered the room, he laid down a queer shaped lens, through which he had been gazing at some of these things, and greeted me cordially. He and the men held a short parley, and they turned to go, when I begged the doctor (in very bad French) to assure them of the harmlessness of my man Luke, lest they should take it into their heads to shoot the poor fellow. After further talk with them, the doctor informed me that one of the men had a little English, and had promised to certify Luke that all was well with me. The doctor and I talked in a heavy fashion, bad French on my side, broken English on his, for a few minutes, when Mistress Goel appeared. She had not tarried to don her finest clothing, as is the wont of so many damsels, but came in household garb, her round, white arms bare to the elbow, her head covered by some kind of hood, which, however, she threw back as she entered the room, her fair face flushed as by her work, but a smile of welcome in her eyes--more beautiful than ever in her homely neatness. In the course of our chat, she told me that the watchmen were on the alert, because last night some bold fellows had scaled the palisade, broken some costly machinery, and endeavoured to set fire to the buildings. Vermuijden's lieutenant had given strict command to shoot every intruder who did not enter by the gates, of which it seemed there were two. "Is it that you wear chain-mail under your clothing, or a scapulary blest by the Pope or witch's charm," she asked, "that you court danger as if you loved it?" I was much too slow-witted to give the right answer, and blundered something about being preoccupied with the pleasure of seeing her. But _Ay di mi_! I forget that what I recall with delight will not interest the reader. When I rose to take my leave, and Mistress Goel heard whither I was bound, she inquired whether we had food with us in the boat. On hearing that we had none, she insisted on supplying us, "For the poor father will be overcome with sorrow, and never think of your hunger," she said. As I would not stay to take a meal with them, she retired to the kitchen, and came back cloaked, with basket in hand, followed by her maid, who carried another. Declaring that she would show me the gate, so that I need not rush on bullets when next I came, she led the way to a point about a hundred yards further round the bend of the river. I hailed Luke, who came up and received the baskets with looks of wonder. Mistress Goel commended Martha's pastry to our attention, and with "Bon voyage!" she left us. As we fell to our luncheon, I asked Luke what had passed between him and the Dutchman who had engaged to assure him of my safety.