# The Silent Prince/Chapter 14

CHAPTER XIV.
MAKING AN ENEMY.
Hilvardine Van Straalen and Madam Chenoweth were seated before the open fire. The girl's cheek had lost something of its roundness and bloom, and deep, violet shadows rested heavily under the beautiful eyes.
“Dear Madam,” she was saying, “there is nothing before me but a life of misery. Father is inexorable. He says I must wed the Chancellor, and neither my entreaties nor mother's arguments move him a particle. What shall I do?”
Poor Hilvardine! The world seemed suddenly to have grown cold and dark in spite of the bright June sun, and her head drooped until it rested on Madam's knees.
“And dost thou love Conrad, my child?”
“His presence is like the brightest sunshine or the sweetest music. How can I give him up?”
“And Conrad loves you, my child, of that I am sure. Love to you both seems to mean only pain and separation. How often, when we pluck the ​rose of human love, we are wounded by the thorns which surround it!”
“Tell me, dear Madam, if it is my duty to wed the Chancellor.”
“I see no course open to you except to obey your father's command, Hilvardine. Had he required you to renounce your religion, then it would have been your duty to disobey him. But in this matter it is customary for children to accept such marriages as their parents make for them. We all have to drink the cup as God mingles it, my child, the bitter with the sweet.”
“Perhaps God will provide a way of escape for me if I seek to do His will,” said Hilvardine.
“With God all things are possible,” said Madam. “The future is in His hands. He can make even the wrath of man to praise Him. If it is His will that your life and Conrad's flow in separate channels, remember that God knows best. Let the knowledge that God knows, and God cares, sustain you in this trying hour. God's love is far beyond all earthly love. It is like the ocean, beside which poor human affection is but as a trembling dewdrop. God does not chide you for your love, for He is love. Let God do with you as He will. Only keep hold of His hand, and you shall surely be guided into the ways of peace.”
The conflict was sharp and sore, but at last Hilvardine grew calm. Her anchor was cast, and the ​tossing of the waves but strengthened its hold, and embedded it more securely in that sure resting-place within the veil.
In a red and gold ante-chamber at the Hotel de Ville, in Antwerp, Chancellor Maas was at his toilet, surrounded by a bevy of obsequious lackeys. They were engaged in the wearisome task of rejuvenating the elderly man so that his face should not record his sixty-five years, but present the appearance of a man of thirty-five. With a look of vanity, the magistrate watched the result. At length the work of art was completed, and arrayed in a gorgeous costume of silver and blue, he surveyed his reflection in the mirror with serenity.
Dismissing his servants, the Chancellor repaired to the Burgomaster's house. He was ushered into the presence of Madam Van Straalen.
“Hilvardine is spending the day away from home,” said that lady.
“Where, may I ask?”
Madam hesitated.
“Is she at Dr. Chenoweth's again?”
“Yes.”
The Chancellor grew very red in the face, “Did I not tell you that there would be trouble if your daughter did not cease her visits to that family?”
“She is very fond of Madam Chenoweth,” began the Burgomaster's wife.
​“Madam Chenoweth indeed!” replied the Chancellor scornfully. “Your daughter goes there to get tidings of that rascally advocate, I have no doubt. She shall suffer for this! I am tired of her sharp speeches and lofty manners. There are other women in the Netherlands just as fascinating as Mistress Hilvardine, who would be pleased to give my addresses their complaisant consideration. I told you, Madam Van Straalen, that any disobedience to my express orders would receive a summary punishment. You shall all suffer for this piece of impertinence.”
The Chancellor left the Burgomaster's house fuming with rage at his disappointment, and inwardly cherishing plans for a speedy revenge.