“Take it,” she said, smiling for the first time, and drawing off the ring she passed it over to him. He turned his head aside as he stretched his hand towards the trinket lest his face should betray the shame which even he must feel.
“If your child should be a son,” he muttered, “tell him that his father had nothing but a piece of advice to leave him; that he should never touch a dice-box.”
“Are you going away then?” she asked.
“For a week or two I must. I have been warned that a difficulty has arisen, about which I need not trouble you. Doubtless you will hear of it soon enough, and though it is not true, I must leave Leyden until the thing blows over. In fact I am going now.”
“You are about to desert me,” she answered; “having got all my money, I say that you are going to desert me who am—thus! I see it in your face.”
Montalvo turned away and pretended not to hear.
“Well, thank God for it,” Lysbeth added, “only I wish that you could take your memory and everything else of yours with you.”
As these bitter words passed her lips the door opened, and there entered one of his own subalterns, followed by four soldiers and a man in a lawyer’s robe.
“What is this?” asked Montalvo furiously.
The subaltern saluted as he entered: