Then the door swung wide, and the voice of Dirk van Goorl was heard saying in a tone of relief: "Yes, sure enough it is she, Tante Clara, and some one is taking off her boots." "Skates, Senor, skates," interrupted Montalvo, glancing backward over his shoulder, then added in a whisper as he bent once more to his task, "ahem--_pays_.

You will introduce me, is it not so?
I think it will be less awkward for you." So, as flight was impossible, for he held her by the foot, and an instinct told her that, especially to the man she loved, the only thing to do was to make light of the affair, Lysbeth said-- "Dirk, Cousin Dirk, I think you know--this is--the Honourable Captain the Count Juan de Montalvo." "Ah! it is the Senor van Goorl," said Montalvo, pulling off the skate and rising from his knee, which, from his excess of courtesy, was now wet through.

"Senor, allow me to return to you, safe and sound, the fair lady of whom I have robbed you for a while." "For a while, captain," blurted Dirk; "why, from first to last, she has been gone nearly four hours, and a fine state we have been in about her." "That will all be explained presently, Senor--at supper, to which the Jufvrouw has been so courteous as to ask me," then, aside and below his breath, again the ominous word of reminder--"_pays_." "Most happily, your cousin's presence was the means of saving a fellow-creature's life.
But, as I have said, the tale is long.

Senor--permit," and in another second Lysbeth found herself walking down her own hall upon the arm of the Spaniard, while Dirk, her aunt, and some guests followed obediently behind.
Now Montalvo knew that his difficulties were over for that evening at any rate, since he had crossed the threshold and was a guest.
Half unconsciously Lysbeth guided him to the balconied _sit-kamer_ on the first floor, which in our day would answer to the drawing-room.

Here several other of her friends were gathered, for it had been arranged that the ice-festival should end with a supper as rich as the house could give.