captive Christian saint, and the motto of the Montalvos, "Trust to God
and me." His black horse, too, of the best breed, imported from Spain,
glittered in harness decorated with gilding, and bore a splendid plume
of dyed feathers rising from the head-band.

Lysbeth happened to be standing near to the spot where this gallant had
halted after his first victory. She was in the company of Dirk van Goorl
alone--for as he was the driver of one of the competing sledges, her
other cousin, Pieter van de Werff, had now been summoned away. Having
nothing else to do at the moment, she approached and not unnaturally
admired this brilliant equipage, although in truth it was the sledge and
the horse rather than their driver which attracted her attention. As for
the Count himself she knew him slightly, having been introduced to and
danced a measure with him at a festival given by a grandee of the town.
On that occasion he was courteous to her in the Spanish fashion, rather
too courteous, she thought, but as this was the manner of Castilian
dons when dealing with burgher maidens she paid no more attention to the
matter.

The Captain Montalvo saw Lysbeth among the throng and recognised her,
for he lifted his plumed hat and bowed to her with just that touch of
condescension which in those days a Spaniard showed when greeting
one whom he considered his inferior. In the sixteenth century it was
understood that all the world were the inferiors to those whom God
had granted to be born in Spain, the English who rated themselves at
a valuation of their own--and were careful to announce the fact--alone
excepted.

An hour or so later, after the last heat had been run, a steward of the
ceremonies called aloud to the remaining competitors to select their