“In short, I won’t stay.”
“I’ll deliver the message, but in somewhat milder terms, if agreeable to you.”
“As you choose. Tell him, too, that I beg him to send for me. If he doesn’t wish to enter this heretic’s nest himself, for which I don’t blame him in the least, he need only send horses or the carriage for me.”
“And your reasons?”
“I won’t weight your baggage still more heavily. Go, or the saddle will be wet before you ride off.”
“Then I’m to tell Hoogstraten to expect a letter.”
“No. Such things can’t be written. Besides, it won’t be necessary. Tell my father I won’t stay with aunt, and want to go home. Good-bye, Nico. Your riding-boots and green cloth doublet are much more becoming than those silk fal-lals.”
The young lady kissed her hand to the youth, who had already swung himself into the saddle, and hurried back to the house. Her uncle shrugged his shoulders, mounted the roan, wrapped the dark cloak closer around him, beckoned Nicolas to his side, and rode on with him in advance of the servants.
No word was exchanged between them, so long as their way led through the city, but outside the gate, Wibisma said:
“Henrica finds the time long in Leyden; she would like to go back to her father.”