In the street he met Junker Van Duivenvoorde, who summoned him to the Hohenort Gate, before which a body of Englishmen had again appeared; a few brave soldiers who, in a fierce, bloody combat, had held Alfen and the Gouda sluice against the Spaniards until their powder was exhausted and necessity compelled them to yield or seek safety in flight.  The burgomaster followed the officer and ordered the gates to be opened to the brave soldiers.  They were twenty in number, among them the Netherland Captain Van der Iaen, and a Young German officer.  Peter commanded, that they should have shelter for the night in the town-hall and the guard-house at the gate.  The next morning suitable quarters would be found for them in the houses of the citizens.  Janus Dousa invited the captain to lodge with him, the German went to Aquanus’s tavern.  All were ordered to report to the burgomaster at noon the next day, to be assigned to quarters and enrolled among the volunteer troops.

The ringing of the alarm-bell in the tower also disturbed the night’s rest of the ladies in the Van der Werff household.  Barbara sought Maria, and neither returned to their rooms until they had learned the cause of the ringing and soothed Henrica.

Maria could not sleep.  Her husband’s purpose of separating from her during the impending danger, had stirred her whole soul, wounded her to the inmost depths of her heart.  She felt humiliated, and, if not misunderstood, at least unappreciated by the man for whose sake she rejoiced, whenever she perceived a lofty aspiration or noble emotion in her own soul.  What avail is personal loveliness to the beautiful wife of a blind man; of what avail to Maria was the rich treasure buried in her bosom, if her husband would not see and bring it to the surface!  “Show him, tell him how lofty are your feelings,” urged love; but womanly pride exclaimed:  “Do not force upon him what he disdains to seek.”

So the hours passed, bringing her neither sleep, peace, nor the desire to forget the humiliation inflicted upon her.

At last Peter entered the room, stepping lightly and cautiously, in order not to wake her.  She pretended to be asleep, but with half-closed eyes could see him distinctly.  The lamp-light fell upon his face, and the lines she had formerly perceived looked like deep shadows between his eyes and mouth.  They impressed upon his features the stamp of heavy, sorrowful anxiety, and reminded Maria of the “too hard” and “if I can only bear it,” he had murmured in his sleep the night before.  Then he approached her bed and stood there a long time; she no longer saw him, for she kept her eyes tightly closed, but the first loving glance, with which he gazed down upon her, had not escaped her notice.  It continued to beam before her mental vision, and she thought she felt that he was watching and praying for her as if she were a child.