Presently Montalvo and Lysbeth were together again in the little room.
"I fear," he said, "from what I saw just now, that your mission hasfailed."
"It has failed," she answered in such a voice as might be dragged by anevil magic from the lips of a corpse. "He does not know the secret youseek, and, therefore, he cannot tell it."
"I am sorry that I cannot believe you," said Montalvo, "so"--and hestretched out his hand towards a bell upon the table.
"Stop," she said; "for your own sake stop. Man, will you really committhis awful, this useless crime? Think of the reckoning that must be paidhere and hereafter; think of me, the woman you dishonoured, standingbefore the Judgment Seat of God, and bearing witness against your naked,shivering soul. Think of him, the good and harmless man whom you areabout cruelly to butcher, crying in the ear of Christ, 'Look upon Juande Montalvo, my pitiless murderer----'"
"Silence," shouted Montalvo, yet shrinking back against the wall asthough to avoid a sword-thrust. "Silence, you ill-omened witch, withyour talk of God and judgment. It is too late, I tell you, it is toolate; my hands are too red with blood, my heart is too black with sin,upon the tablets of my mind is written too long a record. What more canthis one crime matter, and--do you understand?--I must have money, moneyto buy my pleasures, money to make my last years happy, and my deathbedsoft. I have suffered enough, I have toiled enough, and I will winwealth and peace who am now once more a beggar. Yes, had you twentyhusbands, I would crush the life out of all of them inch by inch to winthe gold that I desire."
As he spoke and the passions in him broke through their crust of cunningand reserve, his face changed. Now Lysbeth, watching for some sign ofpity, knew that hope was dead, for his countenance was as it had beenon that day six-and-twenty years ago, when she sat at his side whilethe great race was run. There was the same starting eyeball, the sameshining fangs appeared between the curled lips, and above them themoustachios, now grown grey, touched the high cheekbones. It was as inthe fable of the weremen, who, at a magic sign or word, put off theirhuman aspect and become beasts. So it had chanced to the spirit ofMontalvo, shining through his flesh like some baleful marsh-lightthrough the mist. It was a thing which God had forgotten, a thing thathad burst the kindly mould of its humanity, and wrapt itself in the robeand mask of such a wolf as might raven about the cliffs of hell. Onlythere was fear on the face of the wolf, that inhuman face which, thisside of the grave, she was yet destined to see once more.
The fit passed, and Montalvo sank down gasping, while even in her woeand agony Lysbeth shuddered at this naked vision of a Satan-hauntedsoul.
"I have one more thing to ask," she said. "Since my husband must die,suffer that I die with him. Will you refuse this also, and cause the cupof your crimes to flow over, and the last angel of God's mercy to fleeaway?"
"Yes," he answered. "You, woman with the evil eye, do you suppose thatI wish you here to bring all the ills you prate of upon my head? I saythat I am afraid of you. Why, for your sake, once, years ago, I made avow to the Blessed Virgin that, whatever I worked on men, I would neveragain lift a hand against a woman. To that oath I look to help me at thelast, for I have kept it sacredly, and am keeping it now, else by thistime both you and the girl, Elsa, might have been stretched upon therack. No, Lysbeth, get you gone, and take your curses with you," and hesnatched and rang the bell.
A soldier entered the room, saluted, and asked his commands.
"Take this order," he said, "to the officer in charge of the heretic,Dirk van Goorl; it details the method of his execution. Let it bestrictly adhered to, and report made to me each morning of the conditionof the prisoner. Stay, show this lady from the prison."
The man saluted again and went out of the door. After him followedLysbeth. She spoke no more, but as she passed she looked at Montalvo,and he knew well that though she might be gone, yet her curse remainedbehind.
The plague was on her, the plague was on her, her head and bones wereracked with pain, and the swords of sorrow pierced her poor heart. ButLysbeth's mind was still clear, and her limbs still supported her. Shereached her home and walked upstairs to the sitting room, commanding theservant to find the Heer Adrian and bid him join her there.
In the room was Elsa, who ran to her crying,
"Is it true? Is it true?"
"It is true, daughter, that Foy and Martin have escaped----"
"Oh! God is good!" wept the girl.
"And that my husband is a prisoner and condemned to death."
"Ah!" gasped Elsa, "I am selfish."
"It is natural that a woman should think first of the man she loves. No,do not come near me; I fear that I am stricken with the pest."
"I am not afraid of that," answered Elsa. "Did I never tell you? As achild I had it in The Hague."
"That, at least, is good news among much that is very ill; but besilent, here comes Adrian, to whom I wish to speak. Nay, you need notleave us; it is best that you should learn the truth."
Presently Adrian entered, and Elsa, watching everything, noticed that helooked sadly changed and ill.
"You sent for me, mother," he began, with some attempt at his oldpompous air. Then he caught sight of her face and was silent.
"I have been to the Gevangenhuis, Adrian," she said, "and I have news totell you. As you may have heard, your brother Foy and our servant Martinhave escaped, I know not whither. They escaped out of the very jaws ofworse than death, out of the torture-chamber, indeed, by killing thatwretch who was known as the Professor, and the warden of the gate,Martin carrying Foy, who is wounded, upon his back."
"I am indeed rejoiced," cried Adrian excitedly.
"Hypocrite, be silent," hissed his mother, and he knew that the worsthad overtaken him.
"My husband, your stepfather, has not escaped; he is in the prisonstill, for there I have just bidden him farewell, and the sentenceupon him is that he shall be starved to death in a cell overlooking thekitchen."
"Oh! oh!" cried Elsa, and Adrian groaned.
"It was my good, or my evil, fortune," went on Lysbeth, in a voice ofice, "to see the written evidence upon which my husband, your brotherFoy, and Martin were condemned to death, on the grounds of heresy,rebellion, and the killing of the king's servants. At the foot of it,duly witnessed, stands the signature of--Adrian van Goorl."
Elsa's jaw fell. She stared at the traitor like one paralysed, whileAdrian, seizing the back of a chair, rested upon it, and rocked his bodyto and fro.
"Have you anything to say?" asked Lysbeth.
There was still one chance for the wretched man--had he been moredishonest than he was. He might have denied all knowledge of thesignature. But to do this never occurred to him. Instead, he plungedinto a wandering, scarcely intelligible, explanation, for even in hisdreadful plight his vanity would not permit him to tell all the truthbefore Elsa. Moreover, in that fearful silence, soon he became utterlybewildered, till at length he hardly knew what he was saying, and in theend came to a full stop.
"I understand you to admit that you signed this paper in the house ofHague Simon, and in the presence of a man called Ramiro, who is Governorof the prison, and who showed it to me," said Lysbeth, lifting her headwhich had sunk upon her breast.
"Yes, mother, I signed something, but----"
"I wish to hear no more," interrupted Lysbeth. "Whether your motive wasjealousy, or greed, or wickedness of heart, or fear, you signed thatwhich, had you been a man, you would not have yourself to be torn topieces with redhot pincers you put a pen to it. Moreover, you gave yourevidence fully and freely, for I have read it, and supported it with thesevered finger of the woman Meg which you stole from Foy's room. Youare the murderer of your benefactor and of your mother's heart, andthe would-be murderer of your brother and of Martin Roos. When you wereborn, the mad wife, Martha, who nursed me, counselled that you shouldbe put to death, lest you should live to bring evil upon me and mine. Irefused, and you have brought the evil upon us all, but most, I think,upon your own soul. I do not cur
se you, I call down no ill upon you;Adrian, I give you over into the hands of God to deal with as He seesfit. Here is money"--and, going to her desk, she took from it a heavypurse of gold which had been prepared for their flight, and thrust itinto the pocket of his doublet, wiping her fingers upon her kerchiefafter she had touched him. "Go hence and never let me see your faceagain. You were born of my body, you are my flesh and blood, but forthis world and the next I renounce you, Adrian. Bastard, I know you not.Murderer, get you gone."
Adrian fell upon the ground; he grovelled before his mother trying tokiss the hem of her dress, while Elsa sobbed aloud hysterically. ButLysbeth spurned him in the face with her foot, saying,
"Get you gone before I call up such servants as are left to me to thrustyou to the street."
Then Adrian rose and with great gasps of agony, like some sore-woundedthing, crept from that awful and majestic presence of outragedmotherhood, crept down the stairs and away into the city.
When he had gone Lysbeth took pen and paper and wrote in large lettersthese words:--
"Notice to all the good citizens of Leyden. Adrian, called van Goorl,upon whose written evidence his stepfather, Dirk van Goorl, hishalf-brother, Foy van Goorl, and the serving-man, Martin Roos, have beencondemned to death in the Gevangenhuis by torment, starvation, water,fire, and sword, is known here no longer. Lysbeth van Goorl."
Then she called a servant and gave orders that this paper should benailed upon the front door of the house where every passer-by might readit.
"It is done," she said. "Cease weeping, Elsa, and lead me to my bed,whence I pray God that I may never rise again."
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