The officer looked at Maria in perplexity, and then said more gravely than before: 

“Your jest is more opportune, than you probably suppose; I had hoped to find you again in Delft, but powder was short in Alfen, so the Spaniard will probably reach your native city sooner than we.  Now a kind fate brings me to you here; but let me be honest—­What I hope and desire stands clearly before my eyes, echoes in my soul, and when I thought of our meeting, I dreamed you would lay both hands in mine and, instead of greeting me with witty words, ask the old companion of happy hours, your brother Leonhard’s best friend:  ‘Do you still remember our dead?’ And when I had told you:  ‘Yes, yes, yes, I have never forgotten him,’ then I thought the mild lustre of your eyes—­Oh, oh, how I thank you!  The dear orbs are floating in a mist of tears.  You are not so wholly changed as you supposed, Frau Maria, and if I loyally remember the past, will you blame me for it?”

“Certainly not,” she answered cordially.  “And now that you speak to me so, I will with pleasure again call you Junker Georg, and as Leonhard’s friend and mine, invite you to our house.”

“That will be delightful,” he cried cordially.  “I have so much to ask you and, as for myself—­alas, I wish I had less to tell.”

“Have you seen my husband?” asked Maria.

“I know nobody in Leyden,” he replied, “except my learned, hospitable host, and the doge of this miniature Venice, so rich in water and bridges.”

Georg pointed up the stair-case.  Maria blushed again as she said: 

“Burgomaster Van der Werff is my husband.”

The nobleman was silent for a short time, then he said quickly: 

“He received me kindly.  And the pretty elf up yonder?”

“His child by his first marriage, but now mine also.  How do you happen to call her the elf?”

“Because she looks as if she had been born among white flowers in the moonlight, and because the afterglow of the sunrise, from which the elves flee, crimsoned her cheeks when I caught her.”

“She has already received the name once,” said Maria.  “May I take you to my husband?”

“Not now, Frau Van der Werff, for I must attend to my men outside, but to-morrow, if you will allow me.”

Maria found the dishes smoking on the dining-table.  Her family had waited for her, and, heated by the rapid walk at noon, excited by her unexpected meeting with the young German, she opened the door of the study and called to her husband: 

“Excuse me!  I was detained.  It is very late.”

“We were very willing to wait,” he answered kindly, approaching her.  Then all she had resolved to do returned to her memory and, for the first time since her marriage, she raised her husband’s hand to her lips.  He smilingly withdrew it, kissed her on the forehead, and said: 

“It is delightful to have you here.”