“Lepanto!” was the answer, and they passed on through the camp unmolested.  A coach drawn by four horses, a mere box hung between two tiny fore-wheels and a pair of gigantic hind-wheels, drove slowly past them.  It was conveying Magdalena Moons, the daughter of an aristocratic Holland family, distinguished among the magistracy, back to the Hague from a visit to her lover and future husband, Valdez.  No one noticed Henrica, for there were plenty of women in the camp.  Several poorly-clad ones sat before the tents, mending the soldiers’ clothes.  Some gaily-bedizened wenches were drinking wine and throwing dice with their male companions in front of an officer’s tent.  A brighter light glowed from behind the general’s quarters, where, under a sort of shed, several confessionals and an altar had been erected.  Upon this altar candles were burning, and over it hung a silver lamp; a dark, motionless stream pressed towards it; Castilian soldiers, among whom individuals could be recognized only when the candle-light flashed upon a helmet or coat of mail.

The loud singing of carousing German mercenaries, the neighing and stamping of the horses, and the laughter of the officers and girls, drowned the low chanting of the priests and the murmur of the penitents, but the shrill sounding of the bell calling to mass from time to time pierced, with its swift vibrations, through the noise of the camp.  Just outside the village the watch-word was again used, and they reached the first house unmolested.

“Here we are,” said Wilhelm, with a sigh of relief.  “Profit by the darkness, Junker, and keep on till you have the Spaniards behind you.”

“No, my friend; you will remain here.  I wish to share your danger.  I shall return with you to Leyden and from thence try to reach Delft; meantime I’ll keep watch and give you warning, if necessary.”

“Let us bid each other farewell now, Georg; hours may pass before I return.”

“I have time, a horrible amount of time.  I’ll wait.  There goes the door.”

The Junker grasped his sword, but soon removed his hand from the hilt, for it was Belotti, who came out and greeted the signorina.

Henrica followed him into the house and there talked with him in a low tone, until Georg called her, saying: 

“Fraulein Van Hoogstraten, may I ask for a word of farewell?”

“Farewell, Herr von Dornburg!” she answered distantly, but advanced a step towards him.

Georg had also approached, and now held out his hand.  She hesitated a moment, then placed hers in it, and said so softly, that only he could hear: 

“Do you love Maria?”

“So I am to confess?”

“Don’t refuse my last request, as you did the first.  If you can be generous, answer me fearlessly.  I’ll not betray your secret to any one.  Do you love Frau Van der Werff?”

“Yes, Fraulein.”

Henrica drew a long breath, then continued:  “And now you are rushing out into the world to forget her?”