It is true that there still remained the strange circumstance of the
attempted foul of his cousin Van de Werff's sledge in the great race,
but, after all, why should there not be some explanation of this also?
It had happened, if it did happen, at quite a distance from the winning
post, when there were few people to see what passed. Indeed, now that
he came to think of it, the only real evidence on the matter was that
of his cousin, the little girl passenger, since Van de Werff himself had
brought no actual accusation against his opponent.

Shortly after they returned to the company it was announced that supper
had been served, whereon ensued a pause. It was broken by Montalvo, who,
stepping forward, offered his hand to Lysbeth, saying in a voice that
all could hear:

"Lady, my companion of the race, permit the humblest representative of
the greatest monarch in the world to have an honour which doubtless that
monarch would be glad to claim."

That settled the matter, for as the acting commandant of the Spanish
garrison of Leyden had chosen to refer to his official position, it was
impossible to question his right of precedence over a number of folk,
who, although prominent in their way, were but unennobled Netherlander
burghers.

Lysbeth, indeed, did find courage to point to a rather flurried and
spasmodic lady with grey hair who was fanning herself as though the
season were July, and wondering whether the cook would come up to the
grand Spaniard's expectations, and to murmur "My aunt." But she got no
further, for the Count instantly added in a low voice--