On the day following Montalvo’s interview with Black Meg Dirk received a message from that gentleman, sent to his lodging by an orderly, which reminded him that he had promised to dine with him this very night.  Now he had no recollection of any such engagement.  Remembering with shame, however, that there were various incidents of the evening of the supper whereof his memory was most imperfect, he concluded that this must be one of them.  So much against his own wishes Dirk sent back an answer to say that he would appear at the time and place appointed.

This was the third thing that had happened to annoy him that day.  First he had met Pieter van de Werff, who informed him that all Leyden was talking about Lysbeth and the Captain Montalvo, to whom she was said to have taken a great fancy.  Next when he went to call at the house in the Bree Straat he was told that both Lysbeth and his cousin Clara had gone out sleighing, which he did not believe, for as a thaw had set in the snow was no longer in a condition suitable to that amusement.  Moreover, he could almost have sworn that, as he crossed the street, he caught sight of Cousin Clara’s red face peeping at him from between the curtains of the upstairs sitting-room.  Indeed he said as much to Greta, who, contrary to custom, had opened the door to him.

“I am sorry if Mynheer sees visions,” answered that young woman imperturbably.  “I told Mynheer that the ladies had gone out sleighing.”

“I know you did, Greta; but why should they go out sleighing in a wet thaw?”

“I don’t know, Mynheer.  Ladies do those things that please them.  It is not my place to ask their reasons.”

Dirk looked at Greta, and was convinced that she was lying.  He put his hand in his pocket, to find to his disgust that he had forgotten his purse.  Then he thought of giving her a kiss and trying to melt the truth out of her in this fashion, but remembering that if he did, she might tell Lysbeth, which would make matters worse than ever, refrained.  So the end of it was that he merely said “Oh! indeed,” and went away.

“Great soft-head,” reflected Greta, as she watched his retreating form, “he knew I was telling lies, why didn’t he push past me, or—­do anything.  Ah!  Mynheer Dirk, if you are not careful that Spaniard will take your wind.  Well, he is more amusing, that’s certain.  I am tired of these duck-footed Leydeners, who daren’t wink at a donkey lest he should bray, and among such holy folk somebody a little wicked is rather a change.”  Then Greta, who, it may be remembered, came from Brussels, and had French blood in her veins, went upstairs to make a report to her mistress, telling her all that passed.

“I did not ask you to speak falsehoods as to my being out sleighing and the rest.  I told you to answer that I was not at home, and mind you say the same to the Captain Montalvo if he calls,” said Lysbeth with some acerbity as she dismissed her.