The child rose, and the old servant said, “You are a good boy, Adrian.”
“Do you think so?” he asked, all the sins of the forenoon returning to his mind.
But unluckily they caused him no repentance; on the contrary, his eyes began to sparkle mischievously, and a smile hovered around his lips, as he patted the old woman’s shoulder, whispering softly in her ear:
“The hair flew to-day, Trautchen. My doublet and new stockings are lying up in my room under the bed. Nobody can mend as well as you.”
Trautchen shook her finger at him, but he turned hastily back and ran towards the Zyl-gate, this time to lead the Spaniards against the Netherlanders.
CHAPTER III.
The burgomaster had pressed the nobleman to sit down in the study-chair, while he himself leaned in a half-sitting attitude on the writing-table, listening somewhat impatiently to his distinguished guest.
“Before speaking of more important things,” Herr Matanesse Van Wibisma had begun, “I should like to appeal to you, as a just man, for some punishment for the injury my son has sustained in this city.”
“Speak,” said the burgomaster, and the nobleman now briefly, and with unconcealed indignation, related the story of the attack upon his son at the church.