The lofty apartment into which he led them, was filled with the odor of incense.  A large bedstead, over which a pointed canopy of heavy silk rose to the ceiling, stood at the back, the coffin in which the dead woman lay had been placed in the middle of the room.  A linen cloth, trimmed with lace, covered the face.  The delicate hands, still unwrinkled, were folded, and lightly clasped a well-worn rosary.  The lifeless form was concealed beneath a costly coverlid, in the centre of which lay an exquisitely-carved ivory crucifix.

The visitors bowed mutely before the corpse.  Belotti approached it and, as he saw the padrona’s well-known hands, a convulsive sob shook the old man’s breast.  Then he knelt beside the coffin, pressed his lips, to the cold, slender fingers, and a warm tear, the only one shed for this dead form, fell on the hands now clasped forever.

The burgomaster and his companion did not interrupt him, even when he laid his forehead upon the wood of the coffin and uttered a brief, silent prayer.  After he had risen, and an elderly priest in the sacerdotal robes had left the room, Father Damianus beckoned to the acolytes, with whom he had lingered in the background, and aided by them and Belotti put the lid on the coffin, then turned to Peter Van der Werff, saying: 

“We intend to bury Fraulein Van Hoogstraten at midnight, that no offence may be given.”

“Very well, sir!” replied the burgomaster.  “Whatever may happen, we shall not expel you from the city.  Of course, if you prefer to go to the Spaniards—­”

Damianus shook his head and, interrupting the burgomaster, answered modestly: 

“No, sir; I am a native of Utrecht and will gladly pray for the liberty of Holland.”

“There, there!” exclaimed Van Hout.  “Those were good words, admirable words!  Your hand, Father.”

“There it is; and, so long as you don’t change the ‘haec libertatis ergo’ on your coins to ‘haec religionis ergo,’ not one of those words need be altered.”

“A free country and in it religious liberty for each individual, even for you and your followers,” said the burgomaster, “is what we desire.  Doctor Bontius has spoken of you, worthy man; you have cared well for this dead woman.  Bury her according to the customs of your church; we have come to arrange the earthly possessions she leaves behind.  Perhaps this casket may contain the will.”

“No, sir,” replied the priest.  “She opened the sealed paper in my presence, when she was first taken sick, and wrote a few words whenever she felt stronger.  An hour before her end, she ordered the notary to be sent for, but when he came life had departed.  I could not remain constantly beside the corpse, so I locked up the paper in the linen chest.  There is the key.”

The opened will was soon found.  The burgomaster quietly unfolded it, and, while reading its contents aloud, the notary and city clerk looked over his shoulder.