madly in love with you and will not relinquish his claim for the caprice of a silly girl.”
“His devotion smacks of senility,” said Madam Van Straalen sharply.
“Madam,” said the Burgomaster, “I bid you keep silence. At least I will be master in my own house. Come, daughter, what are your objections to the Chancellor?”
“He is so—so—old and so ugly,” sobbed the girl. “I would sooner have his hatred than his love, and either one would be held by me in contempt.”
“That shows just what a simple wench you are,” said her father angrily. “Know you not, girl, that these are times when it is necessary to have powerful friends? With my wife and children avowed Protestants, I do not know how long I shall be able to stem the tide of opposition. With the friendship of such a man as Chancellor Maas, we shall be raised above suspicion and protected against the fury of the Regent. In a time of peril like this, your feelings, girl, are of minor importance. Go to now and behave like a dutiful child, and forget the idle words of that tricky fortune-hunter, Conrad Chenoweth.”
“Your insinuations are false, and you know it. Conrad is no fortune-hunter.” Hilvardine lifted her head proudly and confronted her father, with a look in her large brown eyes which made him
