# The Silent Prince/Chapter 7

CHAPTER VII.
THE BURGOMASTER'S REBUFF.
“Your father will be placed in an embarrassing condition if the execution of the Edicts is rigorously enforced,” said Conrad to his companion, as they walked slowly through the deserted streets to the Burgomaster's house. “The fact that his wife and children are Protestants ties his hands.”
“You are right,” said Hilvardine. “Father will probably continue to expostulate and threaten, and then end by doing nothing. Protestantism in Antwerp is too strong an element to be coerced, and you know the Prince is a lenient master.”
“What do you hear from Colonel Van Straalen?” inquired Conrad.
“I received a letter from my brother only a few days ago. He is still stationed on the French frontier, and there is no prospect of his coming home at present. He complains that he has not heard from us for some time, yet I have written regularly to him and have kept him informed of the condition of affairs in the Netherlands.”
“It is not strange, in these unsettled times, that ​letters miscarry. I also had a letter from the Colonel about a month ago, in which he desired me to render legal assistance to Madame La Tour and her daughter. These ladies have fallen heirs to a handsome property, through the death of a relative in Amsterdam, and they have come to Brussels to establish their claims. Madame and her daughter are relatives of yours, are they not?”
“They are cousins, several times removed. Monsieur La Tour, a French Huguenot, married my father's second cousin. I have not seen them for many years, for they resided in France, I always fancied that my brother had more than a cousinly regard for Katharine La Tour. But I think I have been mistaken. I have been told by those wiser than myself that a man's heart is like a ship, which is ever prone to slip its moorings.”
Hilvardine looked archly at her companion.
“Mejuffrouw,” said the young advocate earnestly, “you have been poorly advised. I beg of you to listen to a truthful argument on the subject. There are some men who possess faithful hearts. Mine, for instance, has long since left my keeping and is, I assure you, stoutly anchored. Can you not divine my meaning, Mistress Van Straalen?”
“I was ever a poor hand at guessing riddles, Heer Chenoweth.”
Conrad took her hand and exclaimed, “Hilvardine, look at me!”
​The girl did as she was bidden, and she saw a light shining in his eyes which even a duller woman could not have failed to comprehend.
“Hilvardine, I love you. My heart is all yours. For your sake I would lose all, save honor. Will you make me happy, or will you send me hence in heaviness of spirit?”
They had now reached the Burgomaster's house, and just as Conrad waited for a reply to his important question, the front door opened and the repulsive face and stunted figure of a man sixty years old appeared. Ugly-looking people sometimes affect great display in their dress. This was true of the man descending the steps.
He was gorgeously attired in trousers of puce velvet, fastened above the knee with bows of ribbon. He wore a tight-fitting jacket with sleeves slashed with white satin. A jaunty black court mantle lined with the same delicate color hung loosely from his shoulders, and was confined in front by a buckle composed of jewels, which royalty itself might have envied.
Conrad immediately recognized the man as the Chancellor of Brabant, EngelLert Maas. The Chancellor lifted his hat courteously to the Burgomaster's daughter, but stared insolently at her escort. After a momentary hesitation he walked away.
The change in Hilvardine at the sight of this ​great magistrate was remarkable. She clutched her companion's arm and said piteously:
“Save me, Heer Chenoweth. I think my father favors that man's suit.”
All coquetry was gone from the girl's manner. Her face in its evident anxiety was womanly and tender. There was a lurking wistfulness in the brown eyes which touched the young man.
“Hilvardine, do you love me? May I ask your father this very night for your hand?”
The maiden was the picture of sweet confusion, and her answer was very faint, but it was eminently satisfactory to her companion. They passed up the steps into the house and Hilvardine fled precipitately to her room.
“Mynheer Chenoweth!” announced a servant in rich livery as he opened the door of the handsome reception-room, in which sat the Burgomaster, Anthony Van Straalen, and his wife. There was a disturbed expression on Mistress Van Straalen's face, and her husband wore a look of dogged resolution. It was evident that there had been a family difference, and the atmosphere of the room was still murky from the war of words.
The Burgomaster greeted the young advocate with distant politeness, but his wife gave him a cordial welcome.
After a few commonplace remarks, Conrad made known the object of his visit.
​“Heer Burgomaster, I have Mistress Hilvardine's consent to ask you for her hand in marriage. Will you give her to me?”
The Burgomaster uttered an oath. “No!” he roared. “A hundred times no! This, sir, is a pretty piece of impertinence—first to steal my daughter's affections, and then to ask her father for her hand. I have a better match in mind for my daughter than you, Master Chenoweth.”
The hot blood surged into the young advocate's face as he replied: “There is just as good blood in my veins as in yours, Heer Burgomaster. To be sure, I have not as much money as you have, but youth and health are mine, and I am in a fair way to amass a fortune.”
“The marriage settlement would doubtless furnish you an excellent basis on which to build your air-castles,” said the magistrate with cutting irony.
“I do not care for a ryksdaaler of your daughter's dowry,” said the young advocate passionately. “Give me Hilvardine and keep your gold. Nature has amply furnished her with a dowry, which is all that any man could ask or desire.”
“Well, Master Chenoweth, you cannot have my daughter, and that ends the whole matter. She is already promised to another.”
“Our daughter's wishes in the matter ought to be respected, Anthony,” said Mistress Van Straalen in pleading tones. “Surely, husband, we could not ​ask for a more worthy young man than the son of our neighbor, Dr. Chenoweth.”
“A fig for Hilvardine's wishes! Forsooth, did you ever know a maid of eighteen who knew her own mind? The child is not old enough to settle so grave a question. It is for her parents to judge for her, and, as I remarked before, the girl is promised.”
“Then there is no more to be said about the matter at present,” replied the young advocate, rising and bowing himself out of the room.
Like one dazed he went down the stone steps and out upon the street, his thoughts revolving about the Burgomaster's closing words, “The maid is promised to another.”
“To whom?” was the question that tortured him. Conrad had not long to wait for an answer to his query. Footsteps sounded behind him. Conrad quickened his pace, and so did his pursuer. Wheeling about suddenly, he confronted Chancellor Maas. So enraged was the young man at the sight of his successful rival, that he turned his back upon the magistrate without a sign of recognition and hurried swiftly forward. The magistrate again pursued, and gaining upon the advocate, laid a detaining hand upon his shoulder.
“What were you doing at the Burgomaster's house?” he demanded insolently.
​“My business was with the Burgomaster, and what that business was is none of your concern.”
“I will not be trifled with, Master Chenoweth. Tell me what business you had at the Burgomaster's house.”
“I shall not tell you. Good evening.”
“Do you think I don't know why you are hanging about that house? You think you are going to win Mistress Hilvardine. But you are mistaken. She is promised to me, and if you value your liberty you will cease your visits in that quarter.” The magistrate, turned on his heel and walked rapidly in the opposite direction.
With anger and sorrow filling his heart, Conrad neared his father's house. Pale mists were stealing up from the river. A crescent moon was sinking in the west. Lights streamed here and there from the anchored barges. Antwerp under the starlit sky was as quiet and full of peace as if there were no disturbing elements of Jove or discord in the world.