“Certainly not,” she answered cordially.  “And now that you speak to me so, I will with pleasure again call you Junker Georg, and as Leonhard’s friend and mine, invite you to our house.”

“That will be delightful,” he cried cordially.  “I have so much to ask you and, as for myself—­alas, I wish I had less to tell.”

“Have you seen my husband?” asked Maria.

“I know nobody in Leyden,” he replied, “except my learned, hospitable host, and the doge of this miniature Venice, so rich in water and bridges.”

Georg pointed up the stair-case.  Maria blushed again as she said: 

“Burgomaster Van der Werff is my husband.”

The nobleman was silent for a short time, then he said quickly: 

“He received me kindly.  And the pretty elf up yonder?”

“His child by his first marriage, but now mine also.  How do you happen to call her the elf?”

“Because she looks as if she had been born among white flowers in the moonlight, and because the afterglow of the sunrise, from which the elves flee, crimsoned her cheeks when I caught her.”

“She has already received the name once,” said Maria.  “May I take you to my husband?”

“Not now, Frau Van der Werff, for I must attend to my men outside, but to-morrow, if you will allow me.”

Maria found the dishes smoking on the dining-table.  Her family had waited for her, and, heated by the rapid walk at noon, excited by her unexpected meeting with the young German, she opened the door of the study and called to her husband: 

“Excuse me!  I was detained.  It is very late.”

“We were very willing to wait,” he answered kindly, approaching her.  Then all she had resolved to do returned to her memory and, for the first time since her marriage, she raised her husband’s hand to her lips.  He smilingly withdrew it, kissed her on the forehead, and said: 

“It is delightful to have you here.”

“Isn’t it?” she asked, gently shaking her finger at him.

“But we are all here now, and dinner is waiting.”

“Come then,” she answered gaily.  “Do you know whom I met on the stairs?”

“English soldiers.”

“Of course, but among them Junker von Dornburg.”

“He called on me.  A handsome fellow, whose gayety is very attractive, a German from the evangelical countries.”

“Leonhard’s best friend.  Don’t you know?  Surely I’ve told you about him.  Our guest at Jacoba’s wedding.”

“Oh! yes.  Junker Georg.  He tamed the chestnut horse for the Prince’s equerry.”

“That was a daring act,” said Maria, drawing a long breath.

“The chestnut is still an excellent horse,” replied Peter.  “Leonhard thought the Junker, with his gifts and talents, would lift the world out of its grooves; I remember it well, and now the poor fellow must remain quietly here and be fed by us.  How did he happen to join the Englishmen and take part in the war?”