“It weighs on my heart.  I must tell some one.  I want to be Dutch.  I hate the Castilians.  I have learned to know them in Leyderdorp and at the Hague.  They don’t heed me, because I am young, and they are not aware that I understand their language.  So my eyes were opened.  When they speak of us, it is with contempt and scorn.  I know all that has been done by Alva and Vargas.  I have heard from the Spaniards’ own lips, that they would like to root us out, exterminate us.  If I could only do as I pleased, and were it not for my father, I know what I would do.  My head is so confused.  The burgomaster’s speech is driving me out of my wits.  Tell him, junket, I beseech you, tell him I hate the Spaniards and it would be my pride to be a Netherlander.”

Both had continued their walk, and as they approached the burgomaster’s house, the captain, who had listened to the youth with joyful surprise, said: 

“You’re cut from good timber, Junker, and on the way to the right goal.  Only keep Herr Peter’s speech in your mind, and remember what you have learned in history.  To whom belong the shining purple pages in the great book of national history?  To the tyrants, their slaves and eye-servants, or the men who lived and died for liberty?  Hold up your head.  This conflict will perhaps outlast both our lives, and you still have a long time to put yourself on the right side.  The nobleman must serve his Prince, but he need be no slave of a ruler, least of all a foreigner, an enemy of his nation.  Here we are; I’ll come for you again in an hour.  Give me your hand.  I should like to call you by your Christian name in future, my brave Nico.”

“Call me so,” exclaimed the youth, “and—­you’ll send no one else?  I should like to talk with you again.”

The Junker was received in the burgomaster’s house by Barbara.  Henrica could not see him immediately, Father Damianus was with her, so he was obliged to wait in the dining-room until the priest appeared.  Nicolas knew him well, and had even confessed to him once the year before.  After greeting the estimable man and answering his inquiry how he had come there, he said frankly and hastily: 

“Forgive me, Father, but something weighs upon my heart.  You are a holy man, and must know.  Is it a crime, if a Hollander fights against the Spaniards, is it a sin, if a Hollander wishes to be and remain what God made him?  I can’t believe it.”

“Nor do I,” replied Damianus in his simple manner.  “Whoever clings firmly to our holy church, whoever loves his neighbor and strives to do right, may confidently favor the Dutch, and pray and fight for the freedom of his native land.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Nicolas, with sparkling eyes.