I
Donna Lenora de Vargas stood beside her father whilst he--as representing the Lieutenant-Governor--was receiving the homage of the burghers and patricians of Ghent. This was a great honour for so young a girl, but every one--even the women--declared that donna Lenora was worthy of the honour, and many a man--both young and old--after he had made obeisance before señor de Vargas paused awhile before moving away, in order to gaze on the perfect picture which she presented.
She was dressed all in white and with extreme simplicity, but the formal mode of the time, the stiff corslet and stomacher, the rigid folds of the brocade and high starched collar set off to perfection the stateliness of her finely proportioned figure, whilst the masses of her soft fair hair crowned her as with a casque of gold.
When the brilliant throng of Flemish notabilities and their wives had all filed past the Duke of Alva's representative and had all had the honour--men and women alike--proud patricians of this ancient city, of kissing his hand, the High-Bailiff respectfully asked for leave to formally present his son to the high officers of state.
All necks were immediately craned to see this presentation, for already the rumour had spread abroad of the coming interesting engagement, and there were many whispers of astonishment when Mark's tall figure--dressed in sombre purple silk with fine, starched ruff of priceless Mechlin lace--came forward out of the crowd. Every one had expected to see Laurence van Rycke as the happy bridegroom-elect, and it seemed passing strange that it should be Mark--happy-go-lucky, easy-going Mark, the wastrel of the family, the ne'er-do-well--who had been selected for the honour of this alliance with the daughter of all-powerful de Vargas.
Well! perhaps Laurence never would have stooped before a Spaniard as Mark had done quite naturally; perhaps Laurence was too avowedly a partisan of the Prince of Orange to have found favour in beautiful donna Lenora's sight. She certainly looked on Mark van Rycke with cool indifference; those who stood close by vowed that she flashed a glance of contempt upon him, as he bowed low before señor de Vargas and the other officers of state.
"Your eldest son, Messire?" asked one of these seigniors graciously.
"My sons are twins," replied the High-Bailiff, "and this is my son Mark."
"Señor del Rio," said de Vargas turning to his colleague, "I have the honour to present to you Messire Mark van Rycke, son of a loyal subject of our King, the High-Bailiff of Ghent."
After which he turned to speak again with the High-Bailiff, and don Alberic del Rio drew Mark into a brief conversation. Excitement in the gaily-dressed throng was then at its height: the vague feeling that something unusual and even mysterious was occurring caused every one's nerves to be on tenterhooks. All this while donna Lenora had been quite silent, which was vastly becoming in a young girl, and now her father came up to her and he was closely followed by Mark van Rycke.