To this question Pierre would give no answer. He could hardly say, he said. My heart sank, for I saw from his face that he was afraid to tell the truth.
“Come back with me, Monsieur Le Bourse. Let me take you to Lady Marmaduke. She knows the whole story. She will tell you.”
Impatient as I was, I was content to wait. The blow that had fallen upon me was so great that I could scarcely think. A child could have led me. For the time being I had no will of my own. Pierre took me by the arm and led me forward. We had nearly reached the bridge on our return when the clatter of horse hoofs fell upon our ears along the road.
“Hush,” said Pierre. “It is the patroon.”
He drew me back behind some bushes, where we waited in silence the approach of a numerous armed cavalcade.
CHAPTER VIII
LADY MARMADUKE
We had halted behind some willows that overhung the brook beneath the Kissing Bridge. Over this bridge ran the road, which led north from the city through the length of the island to Harlem, passing on the way the manor-house and park of Patroon Van Volkenberg. We had scarcely concealed ourselves behind the bushes when the forward members of the cavalcade came in sight. Two horsemen led the way, wearing the red band upon their arms and carrying blue pennants upon staves that were thrust into their stirrups. Next came the patroon. At his side rode a slight, almost dwarflike man with pale features and snow white hair.
“That is Louis Van Ramm,” whispered Pierre as the dwarf drew near the bridge. “It was he let loose the dogs on me.”
The patroon himself, who sat his horse firm and erect, looked forty-five or fifty years of age. From time to time he would turn in the saddle and glance back with satisfaction upon his score of followers, who rode two and two behind him. He was their feudal chief. The clanking of their harness, the irregular clatter of the horses’ feet upon the hard road, the look of respect with which every eye met his—all this inspired the patroon with the feeling of satisfaction that showed so plainly in his finely modeled face. They rode by, over the hollow sounding bridge and up the long hill, till the last sharp sounds fainted in the distance. Only the rustling tree tops and the rippling brook remained to disturb the soft stillness of the autumn afternoon.
Pierre rose and I followed him; first up a steep footpath and then along the highroad till we came within sight of the town. When we arrived at Lady Marmaduke’s, Pierre led the way to the back entrance, telling me to wait in the servant’s hall while he sought admittance to my lady’s presence. He soon returned to me with the command to follow him.