“I am Adrian, called Van Goorl,” Adrian replied with dignity.
“Van Goorl!” said the Heer. “Well, this is strange; Providence could not have arranged it better. Listen, wife,” he went on, addressing the stout lady, who all this while had sat still upon the horse, so alarmed and bewildered that she could not speak, “here is a son of Dirk van Goorl, to whom we are charged to deliver Elsa.”
“Indeed,” answered the good woman, recovering herself somewhat, “I thought from the look of him that he was a Spanish nobleman. But whoever he is I am sure that we are all very much obliged to him, and if he could show us the way out of this dreadful wood, which doubtless is full of robbers, to the house of our kinsfolk, the Broekhovens of Leyden, I should be still more grateful.”
“Madam, you have only to accept my escort, and I assure you that you need fear no more robbers. Might I in turn ask this lady’s name?”
“Certainly, young sir, she is Elsa Brant, the only child of Hendrik Brant, the famous goldsmith of The Hague, but doubtless now that you know her name you know all that also, for she must be some kind of cousin to you. Husband, help Elsa on to her mule.”
“Let that be my duty,” said Adrian, and, springing forward, he lifted Elsa to the saddle gracefully enough. Then, taking her mule by the bridle, he walked onwards through the wood praying in his heart that the Butcher and his companions would not find courage to attack them again before they were out of its depths.
“Tell me, sir, are you Foy?” asked Elsa in a puzzled voice.
“No,” answered Adrian, shortly, “I am his brother.”
“Ah! that explains it. You see I was perplexed, for I remember Foy when I was quite little; a beautiful boy, with blue eyes and yellow hair, who was always very kind to me. Once he stopped at my father’s house at The Hague with his father.”
“Indeed,” said Adrian, “I am glad to hear that Foy was ever beautiful. I can only remember that he was very stupid, for I used to try to teach him. At any rate, I am afraid you will not think him beautiful now—that is, unless you admire young men who are almost as broad as they are long.”