So at last it came about that an intimation reached him that this scandal must be abated, or he must go back to Spain, a country which, as it happened, he did not in the least wish to visit.
In short, the sorry hour of reckoning, that hour which overtakes all procrastinators, had arrived, and marriage, wealthy marriage, was the only way wherewith it could be defied.

It was a sad alternative to a man who for his own very excellent reasons did not wish to marry, but this had to be faced.
Thus it came about that, as the only suitable _partie_ in Leyden, the Count Montalvo had sought out the well-favoured and well-endowed Jufvrouw Lysbeth van Hout to be his companion in the great sledge race, and taken so much trouble to ensure to himself a friendly reception at her house.
So far, things went well, and, what was more, the opening of the chase had proved distinctly entertaining.

Also, the society of the place, after his appropriation of her at a public festival and their long moonlight _tete-a-tete_, which by now must be common gossip's talk, would be quite prepared for any amount of attention which he might see fit to pay to Lysbeth.

Indeed, why should he not pay attention to an unaffianced woman whose rank was lower if her means were greater than his own?
Of course, he knew that her name had been coupled with that of Dirk van Goorl.

He was perfectly aware also that these two young people were attached to each other, for as they walked home together on the previous night Dirk, possibly for motives of his own, had favoured him with a semi-intoxicated confidence to that effect.