Why had she ever come to care for his foolish face?
Why had she refused So-and-so, and So-and-so and So-and-so--all of them honourable men--with the result that now no other bachelor ever came near her, comprehending that she was under bond to her cousin?
In the past she had persuaded herself that it was because of something she felt but could not see, of a hidden nobility of character which after all was not very evident upon the surface, that she loved Dirk van Goorl.

But where was this something, this nobility?
Surely a man who was a man ought to play his part, and not leave her in this false position, especially as there could be no question of means.

She would not have come to him empty-handed, very far from it, indeed.

Oh! were it not for the unlucky fact that she still happened to care about him--to her sorrow--never, never would she speak to him again.
The last of our three friends to awake on this particular morning, between nine and ten o'clock, indeed, when Dirk had been already two hours at his factory and Lysbeth was buying provisions in the market place, was that accomplished and excellent officer, Captain the Count Juan de Montalvo.

For a few seconds after his dark eyes opened he stared at the ceiling collecting his thoughts.