The burgomaster pressed his hands on his temples and groaned aloud. But Maria said: “Courage, Peter, courage. Hold fast to one thing, don’t let one thing go—hope.”
“Hope, hope,” he answered scornfully.
“To hope no longer,” cried Maria, “means to despair. To despair means in our case to open the gates, to open the gates means—”
“Who is thinking of opening the gates? Who talks of surrender?” he vehemently interrupted. “We will still hold firm, still, still——There is the portfolio, take it to the messenger.”
CHAPTER XXIX.
Bessie had eaten a piece of roast pigeon, the first morsel for several days, and there was as much rejoicing over it in the Van der Werff household, as if some great piece of good fortune had befallen the family. Adrian ran to the workshops and told the men, Peter went to the town-hall with a more upright bearing, and Maria, who was obliged to go out, undertook to tell Wilhelm’s mother of the good results produced by her son’s gift.
Tears ran down the old lady’s flabby cheeks at the story and, kissing the burgomaster’s wife, she exclaimed:
“Yes, Wilhelm, Wilhelm! If he were only at home now. But I’ll call his father. Dear me, he is probably at the town-hall too. Hark, Frau Maria, hark—what’s that?”
The ringing of bells and firing of cannon had interrupted her words; she hastily threw open the window, crying: