# The Silent Prince/Chapter 8

CHAPTER VIII.
A HOUSE DIVIDED AGAINST ITSELF.
After Conrad Chenoweth's departure, the Burgomaster summoned his daughter to his presence.
“Hilvardine,” he said abruptly, “I have promised your hand to the Chancellor of Brabant, Engelbert Maas. We settled the marriage contract this evening.”
“Oh, father!” cried Hilvardine, “do not force me into a union which is so hateful to me. I had rather be torn into pieces than wed this man.”
“And why, forsooth?” said the Burgomaster impatiently. “You have got to marry some one, and I have seen to it that you are provided with a husband who is old enough and rich enough to take care of you handsomely. To be sure, I like not the Chancellor overmuch myself. He drinks hard and he spends his money too freely at the gaming-table, yet there are scores of women who could dance for joy had he chosen them instead of you. The social postition of the wife of the Chancellor of Brabant is unquestioned. And besides all else, the man is ​madly in love with you and will not relinquish his claim for the caprice of a silly girl.”
“His devotion smacks of senility,” said Madam Van Straalen sharply.
“Madam,” said the Burgomaster, “I bid you keep silence. At least I will be master in my own house. Come, daughter, what are your objections to the Chancellor?”
“He is so—so—old and so ugly,” sobbed the girl. “I would sooner have his hatred than his love, and either one would be held by me in contempt.”
“That shows just what a simple wench you are,” said her father angrily. “Know you not, girl, that these are times when it is necessary to have powerful friends? With my wife and children avowed Protestants, I do not know how long I shall be able to stem the tide of opposition. With the friendship of such a man as Chancellor Maas, we shall be raised above suspicion and protected against the fury of the Regent. In a time of peril like this, your feelings, girl, are of minor importance. Go to now and behave like a dutiful child, and forget the idle words of that tricky fortune-hunter, Conrad Chenoweth.”
“Your insinuations are false, and you know it. Conrad is no fortune-hunter.” Hilvardine lifted her head proudly and confronted her father, with a look in her large brown eyes which made him ​wince. “The young advocate is an honest man, of whose love any woman might be proud. If I am to be sold like a chattel, God help me! But I will guarantee the Chancellor one thing: his purchase shall bring him only misery and pain, for I will be a thorn in his side and a curse to his peace.”
“There is no doubt about that,” replied her father. “You have a sharp tongue, and you know full well how to use it. I do not envy the Chancellor his prize, but he is bound to have you at any cost, and there is no doubt but that he loves you.”
Courageous as Hilvardine Van Straalen was, she dared make no further remonstrance. The maidens of the sixteenth century were well trained in the duty of obedience to parents. After obedience, they were taught to respect the authority of man, and were enjoined to silent submission to his superior judgement.
Conrad Chenoweth was not able to see Hilvardine again before his return to Brussels. He went to the Burgomaster's house, but Madam Van Straalen told him that her daughter had been forbidden to see the young advocate.
“Keep up a brave heart, Master Chenoweth,” she said. “I am your friend and I fully sympathize with you and with my daughter. Perhaps I may be able to remove the Burgomaster's prejudices. He has a good heart and truly loves his daughter, but these perilous times have frightened ​him, and he seeks a powerful protector for his family.”
“It is a fearful price to pay for safety,” replied Conrad with set teeth. “To think of that pure young girl mated with that vile debauchee. Angels might well weep at such a terrible sacrifice!”
Madam Van Straalen delivered to the young man a parcel which Hilvardine had sent him. He could hardly wait until he reached home before he untied the precious bundle. It contained a beautifully embroidered kerchief, wrought in rich orange and blue silks. The orange symbolized the Fatherland, while the blue of the heavens was the color adopted by the Dutch Calvinists. Within the folds of the kerchief Conrad found a slip of paper on which was inscribed a stanza of a popular song:
‘Will you have a pink knot? Is it blue you prize? One is like a fresh rose, One is like the skies; No, the maid of Holland For her own true love, Ties the splendid orange, Orange still above!”
The morning for Conrad's departure from Antwerp he awoke with a heavy heart. He saw not the glory of the rising sun. He saw nothing poetic about the flash of the distant cathedral spires against the roseate clouds, and his ears heard no sweetness in the cooing of the gray doves as the ​circled around the huge chimneys. The years which stretched out before him seemed barren and lonely. He had come home feeling confident that he should win Hilvardine for his wife. Her shy glances, and the apparent cordial relations between the Burgomaster's family and his own, argued well for his success. But another and powerful rival had stepped in and borne away the prize. He had built upon the sand, and the incoming tide had made flotsam and jetsam of his castle. But Conrad Chenoweth was a man and a Christian. Shaking himself free from these melancholy reflections, he arose, and said bravely to himself:
“Because the dearest wish of my heart has not been realized, I will not become like driftwood upon the sea. God is good. He will never permit this monstrous sacrifice. Hilvardine is in his care. I will trust God for the future, and go forward and do my duty.”
When the morning sun rose again, it found the young advocate at his post in Brussels.