Such were the thoughts that passed through Lysbeth’s mind as the strong Flemish gelding lumbered forward, dragging the sledge at the same steady pace over rough ice and smooth. And all the while Montalvo behind her was chatting pleasantly about this matter and that; telling her of the orange groves in Spain, of the Court of the Emperor Charles, of adventures in the French wars, and many other things, to which conversation she made such answer as courtesy demanded and no more. What would Dirk think, she was wondering, and her cousin, Pieter van de Werff, whose good opinion she valued, and all the gossips of Leyden? She only prayed that they might not have missed her, or at least that they took it for granted that she had gone home.
On this point, however, she was soon destined to be undeceived, for presently, trudging over the snow-covered ice and carrying his useless skates in his hand, they met a young man whom she knew as Dirk’s fellow apprentice. On seeing them he stopped in front of the sledge in such a position that the horse, a steady and a patient animal, pulled up of its own accord.
“Is the Jufvrouw Lysbeth van Hout there?” he asked anxiously.
“Yes,” she replied, but before she could say more Montalvo broke in, inquiring what might be the matter.
“Nothing,” he answered, “except that she was lost and Dirk van Goorl, my friend, send me to look for her this way while he took the other.”
“Indeed. Then, noble sir, perhaps you will find the Heer Dirk van Goorl and tell him that the Señora, his cousin, is merely enjoying an evening drive, and that if he comes to her house in an hour’s time he will find her safe and sound, and with her myself, the Count Juan de Montalvo, whom she has honoured with an invitation to supper.”
Then, before the astonished messenger could answer; before, indeed, Lysbeth could offer any explanation of his words, Montalvo lashed up the horse and left him standing on the moat bewildered, his cap off and scratching his head.
After this they proceeded on a journey which seemed to Lysbeth almost interminable. When the circuit of the walls was finished, Montalvo halted at one of the shut gates, and, calling to the guard within, summoned them to open. This caused delay and investigation, for at first the sergeant of the guard would not believe that it was his acting commandant who spoke without.
“Pardon, Excellency,” he said when he had inspected him with a lantern, “but I did not think that you would be going the rounds with a lady in your sledge,” and holding up the light the man took a long look at Lysbeth, grinning visibly as he recognised her.
“Ah, he is a gay bird, the captain, a very gay bird, and it’s a pretty Dutch dickey he is teaching to pipe now,” she heard him call to a comrade as he closed the heavy gates behind their sleigh.