The Burgomasters Wife | Page 4

another lad, while a third added:
"The Wibismas certainly were not to be found here, so long as bread
was short with us."
The Wibismas are all Glippers.
"And he struts about on week-days, dressed in velvet and silk," said
Adrian. "Just look at the black boy the red-legged stork has brought
with him to Leyden."
The scholars burst into a loud laugh, and as soon as the youth had
reached them, Paul Van Swieten snarled in a nasal tone:
"How did deserting suit you? How are affairs in Spain, master
Glipper?"
The young noble raised his head still higher, the negro did the same,
and both walked quietly on, even when Adrian shouted in his ear:
"Little Glipper, tell me, for how many pieces of silver did Judas sell the
Saviour?"
Young Matanesse Van Wibisma made an indignant gesture, but
controlled himself until Jan Mulder stepped in front of him, holding his
little cloth cap, into which he had thrust a hen's feather, under his chin
like a beggar, and saying humbly:
"Give me a little shrove-money for our tom-cat, Sir Grandee; he stole a
leg of veal from the butcher yesterday."

"Out of my way!" said the youth in a haughty, resolute tone, trying to
push Mulder aside with the back of his hand.
"Hands off, Glipper!" cried the school-boys, raising their clenched
hands threateningly.
"Then let me alone," replied Wibisma, "I want no quarrel, least of all
with you."
"Why not with us?" asked Adrian Van der Werff, irritated by the
supercilious, arrogant tone of the last words.
The youth shrugged his shoulders, but Adrian cried: "Because you like
your Spanish costume better than our doublets of Leyden cloth."
Here he paused, for Jan Mulder stole behind Wibisma, struck his hat
down on his head with a book, and while Nicolas Van Wibisma was
trying to free his eyes from the covering that shaded them, exclaimed:
"There, Sir Grandee, now the little hat sits firm! You can keep it on,
even before the king."
The negro could not go to his master's assistance, for his arms were
filled with parcels, but the young noble did not call him, knowing how
cowardly his black servant was, and feeling strong enough to help
himself.
A costly clasp, which he had just received as a gift on his seventeenth
birthday, confined the plume in his hat; but without a thought he flung
it aside, stretched out his arms as if for a wrestling-match, and with
florid cheeks, asked in a loud, resolute tone: "Who did that?"
Jan Mulder had hastily retreated among his companions, and instead of
coming forward and giving his name, called:
"Look for the hat-fuller, Glipper! We'll play blindman's buff."
The youth, frantic with rage, repeated his question. When, instead of
any other answer, the boys entered into Jan Mulder's jest, shouting

gaily: "Yes, play blind-man's buff! Look for the hat-fuller. Come, little
Glipper, begin." Nicolas could contain himself no longer, but shouted
furiously to the laughing throng:
"Cowardly rabble!"
Scarcely had the words been uttered, when Paul Van Swieten raised his
grammar, bound in hog-skin, and hurled it at Wibisma's breast.
Other books followed, amid loud outcries, striking him on the legs and
shoulders. Bewildered, he shielded his face with his hands and retreated
to the church-yard wall, where he stood still and prepared to rush upon
his foes.
The stiff, fashionable high Spanish ruff no longer confined his
handsome head with its floating golden locks. Freely and boldly he
looked his enemies in the face, stretched the young limbs hardened by
many a knightly exercise, and with a true Netherland oath sprang upon
Adrian Van der Werff, who stood nearest.
After a short struggle, the burgomaster's son, inferior in strength and
age to his opponent, lay extended on the ground; but the other lads,
who had not ceased shouting, "Glipper, Glipper," seized the young
noble, who was kneeling on his vanquished foe.
Nicolas struggled bravely, but his enemies' superior power was too
great.
Frantic with fury, wild with rage and shame, he snatched the dagger
from his belt.
The boys now raised a frightful yell, and two of them rushed upon
Nicolas to wrest the weapon from him. This was quickly accomplished;
the dagger flew on the pavement, but Van Swieten sprang back with a
low cry, for the sharp blade had struck his arm, and the bright blood
streamed on the ground.
For several minutes the shouts of the lads and the piteous cries of the

black page drowned the beautiful melody of the organ, pouring from
the windows of the church. Suddenly the music ceased; instead of the
intricate harmony the slowly-dying note of a single pipe was heard, and
a young man rushed out of the door of the sacristy of the House of God.