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CharlesReade

THECLOISTER
AND THE HEARTH





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AUTHOR'SPREFACE

Asmall portion of this tale appeared in Once a WeekJuly- September1859under the title of "A Good Fight."

Afterwriting itI took wider views of the subjectand also felt uneasyat having deviated unnecessarily from the historical outline of atrue story. These two sentiments have cost me more than a year's veryhard labourwhich I venture to think has not been wasted. After thisplain statement I trust all who comment on this work will see that todescribe it as a reprint would be unfair to the public and to me. TheEnglish language is copiousandin any true man's handsquite ableto convey the truth- namelythat one-fifth of the present work is areprintand four- fifths of it a new composition.

CharlesReade

 

CHAPTERI

Nota day passes over the earthbut men and women of no note do greatdeedsspeak great wordsand suffer noble sorrows. of these obscureheroesphilosophersand martyrsthe greater part will never beknown till that hourwhen many that are great shall be smallandthe small great; but of others the world's knowledge may be said tosleep: their lives and characters lie hidden from nations in theannals that record them. The general reader cannot feel themtheyare presented so curtly and coldly: they are not like breathingstories appealing to his heartbut little historic hail-stonesstriking him but to glance off his bosom: nor can he understand them;for epitomes are not narrativesas skeletons are not human figures.

Thusrecords of prime truths remain a dead letter to plain folk: thewriters have left so much to the imaginationand imagination is sorare a gift. Herethenthe writer of fiction may be of use to thepublic - as an interpreter.

Thereis a musty chroniclewritten in intolerable Latinand in it achapter where every sentence holds a fact. Here is toldwith harshbrevitythe strange history of a pairwho lived untrumpetedanddied unsungfour hundred years ago; and lie nowas unpitiedinthat stern pageas fossils in a rock. Thusliving or deadFate isstill unjust to them. For if I can but show you what lies below thatdry chronicler's wordsmethinks you will correct the indifference ofcenturiesand give those two sore-tried souls a place in your heart- for a day.

Itwas past the middle of the fifteenth century; Louis XI was sovereignof France; Edward IV was wrongful king of England; and Philip "theGood" having by force and cunning dispossessed his cousinJacquelineand broken her heartreigned undisturbed this many yearsin Hollandwhere our tale begins.

Eliasand Catherine his wifelived in the little town of Tergou. Hetradedwholesale and retailin clothsilkbrown hollandandabove allin curried leathera material highly valued by themiddling peoplebecause it would stand twenty years' wearand turnan ordinary knifeno small virtue in a jerkin of that centuryinwhich folk were so liberal of their steel; even at dinner a man wouldleave his meat awhileand carve you his neighbouron a verymoderate difference of opinion.

Thecouple were well to doand would have been free from all earthlycarebut for nine children. When these were coming into the worldone per annumeach was hailed with rejoicingsand the saints werethankednot expostulated with; and when parents and children wereall young togetherthe latter were looked upon as lovely littleplaythings invented by Heaven for the amusementjoyand eveningsolace of people in business.

Butas the olive-branches shot upand the parents grew olderand sawwith their own eyes the fate of large familiesmisgivings and caremingled with their love. They belonged to a singularly wise andprovident people: in Holland reckless parents were as rare asdisobedient children. So now when the huge loaf came in on a gigantictrencherlooking like a fortress in its moatandthe tour of thetable once madeseemed to have melted awayElias and Catherinewould look at one another and say"Who is to find bread forthem all when we are gone?"

Atthis observation the younger ones needed all their filial respect tokeep their little Dutch countenances; for in their opinion dinner andsupper came by nature like sunrise and sunsetandso long as thatluminary should travel round the earthso long as the brown loaf goround their family circleand set in their stomachs only to riseagain in the family oven. But the remark awakened the nationalthoughtfulness of the elder boysand being often repeatedsetseveral of the family thinkingsome of them good thoughtssome illthoughtsaccording to the nature of the thinkers.

"Katethe children grow sothis table will soon be too small."

"Wecannot afford itEli" replied Catherineanswering not hiswordsbut his thoughtafter the manner of women.

Theiranxiety for the future took at times a less dismal but moremortifying turn. The free burghers had their pride as well as thenobles; and these two could not bear that any of their blood shouldgo down in the burgh after their decease.

Soby prudence and self-denial they managed to clothe all the littlebodiesand feed all the great mouthsand yet put by a small hoardto meet the future; andas it grew and grewthey felt a pleasurethe miser hoarding for himself knows not.

Oneday the eldest boy but oneaged nineteencame to his motherandwith that outward composure which has so misled some persons as tothe real nature of this peoplebegged her to intercede with hisfather to send him to Amsterdamand place him with a merchant. "Itis the way of life that likes me: merchants are wealthy; I am good atnumbers; pritheegood mothertake my part in thisand I shall everbeas I am nowyour debtor."

Catherinethrew up her hands with dismay and incredulity.

"What!leave Tergou!"

"Whatis one street to me more than another? If I can leave the folk ofTergouI can surely leave the stones."

"What!quit your poor father now he is no longer young?"

"Motherif I can leave youI can leave"

"What!leave your poor brothers and sistersthat love you so dear?"

"Thereare enough in the house without me."

"Whatmean youRichart? Who is more thought of than you Stayhave Ispoken sharp to you? Have I been unkind to you?"

"Neverthat I know of; and if you hadyou should never hear of it from me.Mother" said Richart gravelybut the tear was in his eye"itall lies in a wordand nothing can change my mind. There will be onemouth less for you to feed.'

"Therenowsee what my tongue has done" said Catherineand the nextmoment she began to cry. For she saw her first young bird on the edgeof the nest trying his wings to fly into the world. Richart had acalmstrong willand she knew he never wasted a word.

Itended as nature has willed all such discourse shall end: youngRichart went to Amsterdam with a face so long and sad as it had neverbeen seen beforeand a heart like granite.

Thatafternoon at supper there was one mouth less. Catherine looked atRichart's chair and wept bitterly. On this Elias shouted roughly andangrily to the children"Sit widercan't ye: sit wider!"and turned his head away over the back of his seat awhileand wassilent.

Richartwas launchedand never cost them another penny; but to fit him outand place him in the house of Vander Stegenthe merchanttook allthe little hoard but one gold crown. They began again. Two yearspassedRichart found a niche in commerce for his brother JacobandJacob left Tergou directly after dinnerwhich was at eleven in theforenoon. At supper that day Elias remembered what had happened thelast time; so it was in a low whisper he said"Sit widerdears!" Now until that momentCatherine would not see the gapat tablefor her daughter Catherine had besought her not to grieveto-nightand she had said"NosweetheartI promise I willnotsince it vexes my children." But when Elias whispered "Sitwider!" says she"Ay! the table will soon be too big forthe childrenand you thought it would be too small;" and havingdelivered this with forced calmness. she put up her apron the nextmomentand wept sore.

"'Tisthe best that leave us" sobbed she; "that is the cruelpart."

"Nay!nay!" said Elias"our children are good childrenand allare dear to us alike. Heed her not! What God takes from us stillseems better that what He spares to us; that is to saymen are bynature unthankful - and women silly."

"AndI say Richart and Jacob were the flower of the flock" sobbedCatherine.

Thelittle coffer was empty againand to fill it they gathered likeants. In those days speculation was pretty much confined to thecard-and-dice business. Elias knew no way to wealth but the slow andsure one. "A penny saved is a penny gained" was his humblecreed. All that was not required for the business and the necessariesof life went into the little coffer with steel bands and florid key.They denied themselves in turn the humblest luxuriesand thencatching one another's lookssmiled; perhaps with a greater joy thanself-indulgence has to bestow. And so in three years more they hadgleaned enough to set up their fourth son as a master-tailorandtheir eldest daughter as a robemakerin Tergou. Here were two moreprovided for: their own trade would enable them to throw work intothe hands of this pair. But the coffer was drained to the dregsandthis time the shop too bled a little in goods if not in coin.

Alas!there remained on hand two that were unable to get their breadandtwo that were unwilling. The unable ones were1Gilesa dwarfofthe wrong sorthalf stupidityhalf maliceall head and claws andvoicerun from by dogs and unprejudiced femalesand sided withthrough thick and thin by his mother; 2Little Catherinea poorlittle girl that could only move on crutches. She lived in painbutsmiled through itwith her marble face and violet eyes and longsilky lashes; and fretful or repining word never came from her lips.The unwilling ones were Sybrandtthe youngesta ne'er-do-weeltoomuch in love with play to work; and Cornelisthe eldestwho hadmade calculationsand stuck to the hearthwaiting for dead men'sshoes. Almost worn out by their repeated effortsand above alldispirited by the moral and physical infirmities of those that nowremained on handthe anxious couple would often say"What willbecome of all these when we shall be no longer here to take care ofthem?" But when they had said this a good many timessuddenlythe domestic horizon clearedand then they used still to say itbecause a habit is a habitbut they uttered it half mechanicallynowand added brightly and cheerfully"But thanks to St. Bavonand all the saintsthere's Gerard."

YoungGerard was for many years of his life a son apart and he was goinginto the Churchand the Church could always maintain her children byhook or by crook in those days: no great hopesbecause his familyhad no interest with the great to get him a beneficeand the youngman's own habits were frivolousandindeedsuch as our clothmerchant would not have put up with in any one but a clerk that wasto be. His trivialities were reading and penmanshipand he was sowrapped up in them that often he could hardly be got away to hismeals. The day was never long enough for him; and he carried ever atinder-box and brimstone matchesand begged ends of candles of theneighbourswhich he lighted at unreasonable hours - ayeven ateight of the clock at night in winterwhen the very burgomaster wasabed. Endured at homehis practices were encouraged by the monks ofa neighbouring convent. They had taught him penmanshipand continuedto teach him until one day they discoveredin the middle of alessonthat he was teaching them. They pointed this out to him in amerry way: he hung his head and blushed: he had suspected as muchhimselfbut mistrusted his judgment in so delicate a matter. "Butmy son" said an elderly monk"how is it that youto whomGod has given an eye so truea hand so subtle yet firmand a heartto love these beautiful craftshow is it you do not colour as wellas write? A scroll looks but barren unless a border of fruitandleavesand rich arabesques surround the good wordsand charm thesense as those do the soul and understanding; to say nothing of thepictures of holy men and women departedwith which the severalchapters should be adornedand not alone the eye soothed with thebrave and sweetly blended coloursbut the heart lifted by effigiesof the saints in glory. Answer memy son."

Atthis Gerard was confusedand muttered that he had made severaltrials at illuminatingbut had not succeeded well; and thus thematter rested.

Soonafter this a fellow-enthusiast came on the scene in the unwonted formof an old lady. Margaretsister and survivor of the brothers VanEyckleft Flandersand came to end her days in her native country.She bought a small house near Tergou. In course of time she heard ofGerardand saw some of his handiwork: it pleased her so well thatshe sent her female servantReicht Heynesto ask him to come toher. This led to an acquaintance: it could hardly be otherwiseforlittle Tergou had never held so many as two zealots of this sortbefore. At first the old lady damped Gerard's courage terribly. Ateach visit she fished out of holes and corners drawings andpaintingssome of them by her own handthat seemed to himunapproachable; but if the artist overpowered himthe woman kept hisheart up. She and Reicht soon turned him inside out like a glove:among other thingsthey drew from him what the good monks had failedto hit uponthe reason why he did not illuminateviz.that hecould not afford the goldthe blueand the redbut only the cheapearths; and that he was afraid to ask his mother to buy the choicecoloursand was sure he should ask her in vain. Then Margaret VanEyck gave him a little brush - goldand some vermilion andultramarineand a piece of good vellum to lay them on. He almostadored her. As he left the house Reicht ran after him with a candleand two quarters: he quite kissed her. But better even than the goldand lapis-lazuli to the illuminator was the sympathy to the isolatedenthusiast. That sympathy was always readyandas he returned itan affection sprung up between the old painter and the youngcaligrapher that was doubly characteristic of the time. For this wasa century in which the fine arts and the higher mechanical arts werenot separated by any distinct boundarynor were those who practisedthem; and it was an age in which artists sought out and loved oneanother. Should this last statement stagger a painter or writer ofour daylet me remind him that even Christians loved one another atfirst starting.

Backedby an acquaintance so venerableand strengthened by female sympathyGerard advanced in learning and skill. His spiritstoorosevisibly: he still looked behind him when dragged to dinner in themiddle of an initial G; but once seatedshowed great socialqualities; likewise a gay humourthat had hitherto but peeped inhimshone outand often he set the table in a roarand kept ittheresometimes with his own witsometimes with jests which wereglossy new to his familybeing drawn from antiquity.

Asa return for all he owed his friends the monkshe made themexquisite copies from two of their choicest MSS.viz.the life oftheir founderand their Comedies of Terencethe monastery findingthe vellum.

Thehigh and puissant PrincePhilip "the Good" Duke ofBurgundyLuxemburgand BrabantEarl of Holland and ZealandLordof FrieslandCount of FlandersArtoisand HainaultLord of Salinsand Macklyn - was versatile.

Hecould fight as well as any king going; and lie could lie as well asanyexcept the King of France. He was a mighty hunterand couldread and write. His tastes were wide and ardent. He loved jewels likea womanand gorgeous apparel. He dearly loved maids of honourandindeed paintings generally; in proof of which he ennobled Jan VanEyck. He had also a rage for giantsdwarfsand Turks. These laststood ever planted about himturbaned and blazing with jewels. Hisagents inveigled them from Istamboul with fair promises; but themoment he had got themhe baptized them by brute force in a largetub; and this donelet them squat with their faces towards Meccaand invoke Mahound as much as they pleasedlaughing in his sleeve attheir simplicity in fancying they were still infidels. He had lionsin cagesand fleet leopards trained by Orientals to run down haresand deer. In shorthe relished all raritiesexcept the humdrumvirtues. For anything singularly pretty or diabolically uglythiswas your customer. The best of him washe was openhanded to thepoor; and the next best washe fostered the arts in earnest: whereofhe now gave a signal proof. He offered prizes for the best specimensof orfevrerie in two kindsreligious and secular: itemfor the bestpaintings in white of eggoilsand tempera; these to be on panelsilkor metalas the artists chose: itemfor the best transparentpainting on glass: itemfor the best illuminating andborder-painting on vellum: itemfor the fairest writing on vellum.The burgomasters of the several towns were commanded to aid all thepoorer competitors by receiving their specimens and sending them withdue care to Rotterdam at the expense of their several burghs. Whenthis was cried by the bellman through the streets of Tergouathousand mouths openedand one heart beat - Gerard's. He told hisfamily timidly he should try for two of those prizes. They stared insilencefor their breath was gone at his audacity; but one horridlaugh exploded on the floor like a petard. Gerard looked downandthere was the dwarfslit and fanged from ear to ear at his expenseand laughing like a lion. Naturerelenting at having made Giles sosmallhad given him as a set-off the biggest voice on record. Hisvery whisper was a bassoon. He was like those stunted wide-mouthedpieces of ordnance we see on fortifications; more like a flower-potthan a cannon; but ods tympana how they bellow!

Gerardturned red with angerthe more so as the others began to titter.White Catherine sawand a pink tinge came on her cheek. She saidsoftly"Why do you laugh? Is it because he is our brother youthink he cannot be capable? YesGerardtry with the rest. Many sayyou are skilful; and mother and I will pray the Virgin to guide yourhand."

"Thankyoulittle Kate. You shall pray to our Ladyand our mother shallbuy me vellum and the colours to illuminate with."

"Whatwill they costmy lad?"

"Twogold crowns" (about three shillings and fourpence Englishmoney).

"What!"screamed the housewife"when the bushel of rye costs but agroat! What! me spend a month's meal and meat and fire on such vanityas that: the lightning from Heaven would fall on meand my childrenwould all be beggars."

"Mother!"sighed little Catherineimploringly.

"Oh!it is in vainKate" said Gerardwith a sigh. "I shallhave to give it upor ask the dame Van Eyck. She would give it mebut I think shame to be for ever taking from her."

"Itis not her affair" said Catherinevery sharply; "what hasshe to do coming between me and my sun?" and she left the roomwith a red face. Little Catherine smiled. Presently the housewifereturned with a graciousaffectionate airand two little goldpieces in her hand.

"Theresweetheart" said she"you won't have to trouble dame ordemoiselle for two paltry crowns."

Buton this Gerard fell a thinking how he could spare her purse.

"Onewill domother. I will ask the good monks to let me send my copy oftheir 'Terence:' it is on snowy vellumand I can write no better: sothen I shall only need six sheets of vellum for my borders andminiaturesand gold for my groundand prime colours - one crownwill do.'

"Nevertyne the ship for want of a bit of tarGerard" said hischangeable mother. But she added"WellthereI will put thecrown in my pocket. That won't be like putting it back in the box.Going to the box to take out instead of putting init is like goingto my heart with a knife for so many drops of blood. You will be sureto want itGerard. The house is never built for less than thebuilder counted on."

Sureenoughwhen the time cameGerard longed to go to Rotterdam and seethe Dukeand above all to see the work of his competitorsand soget a lesson from defeat. And the crown came out of the housewife'spocket with a very good grace. Gerard would soon be a priest. Itseemed hard if he might not enjoy the world a little beforeseparating himself from it for life.

Thenight before he wentMargaret Van Eyck asked him to take a letterfor herand when he came to look at itto his surprise he found itwas addressed to the Princess Marieat the Stadthouse in Rotterdam.

Theday before the prizes were to be distributedGerard started forRotterdam in his holiday suitto wita doublet of silver-greyclothwith sleevesand a jerkin of the same over itbut withoutsleeves. From his waist to his heels he was clad in a pair oftight-fitting buckskin hose fastened by laces (called points) to hisdoublet. His shoes were pointedin moderationand secured by astrap that passed under the hollow of the foot. On his head and theback of his neck he wore his flowing hairand pinned to his backbetween his shoulders was his hat: it was further secured by a purplesilk ribbon little Kate had passed round him from the sides of thehatand knotted neatly on his breast; below his hatattached to theupper rim of his broad waist-beltwas his leathern wallet. When hegot within a league of Rotterdam he was pretty tiredbut he soonfell in with a pair that were more so. He found an old man sitting bythe roadside quite worn outand a comely young woman holding hishandwith a face brimful of concern. The country people trudged byand noticed nothing amiss; but Gerardas he passeddrewconclusions. Even dress tells a tale to those who study it so closelyas he didbeing an illuminator. The old man wore a gownand a furtippetand a velvet capsure signs of dignity; but the triangularpurse at his girdle was leanthe gown rustythe fur wornsuresigns of poverty. The young woman was dressed in plain russet cloth:yet snow-white lawn covered that part of her neck the gown leftvisibleand ended half way up her white throat in a little band ofgold embroidery; and her head-dress was new to Gerard: instead ofhiding her hair in a pile of linen or lawnshe wore an open networkof silver cord with silver spangles at the interstices: in this herglossy auburn hair was rolled in front into two solid wavesandsupported behind in a luxurious and shapely mass. His quick eye tookin all thisand the old man's pallorand the tears in the youngwoman's eyes. So when he had passed them a few yardshe reflectedand turned backand came towards them bashfully.

"FatherI fear you are tired."

"Indeedmy sonI am" replied the old man"and faint for lack offood."

Gerard'saddress did not appear so agreeable to the girl as to the old man.She seemed ashamedand with much reserve in her mannersaidthatit was her fault - she had underrated the distanceand imprudentlyallowed her father to start too late in the day.

"Nono "said the old man; "it is not the distanceit is thewant of nourishment."

Thegirl put her arms round his neck with tender concernbut took thatopportunity of whispering"Fathera stranger- a young man!

Butit was too late. Gerardwith simplicityand quite as a matter ofcoursefell to gathering sticks with great expedition. This donehetook down his walletout with the manchet of bread and the ironflask his careful mother had put upand his everlasting tinder-box;lighted a matchthen a candle-endthen the sticks; and put his ironflask on it. Then down he went on his stomachand took a good blow:then looking uphe saw the girl's face had thawedand she waslooking down at him and his energy with a demure smile. He laughedback to her. "Mind the pot" said he"and don't letit spillfor Heaven's sake: there's a cleft stick to hold it safewith;" and with this he set off running towards a corn-field atsome distance.

Whilsthe was gonethere came byon a mule with rich purple housingsanold man redolent of wealth. The purse at his girdle was plethoricthe fur on his tippet was erminebroad and new.

Itwas Ghysbrecht Van Swietenthe burgomaster of Tergou.

Hewas oldand his face furrowed. He was a notorious miserand lookedone generally. But the idea of supping with the Duke raised him justnow into manifest complacency. Yet at the sight of the faded old manand his bright daughter sitting by a fire of sticksthe smile diedout of his faceand he wore a strange look of pain and uneasiness.He reined in his mule.

"WhyPeter- Margaret" said healmost fiercely"what mummeryis this?" Peter was going to answerbut Margaret interposedhastilyand said: "My father was exhaustedso I am warmingsomething to give him strength before we go on."

"What!reduced to feed by the roadside like the Bohemians" saidGhysbrechtand his hand went into his purse; but it did not seem athome there; it fumbled uncertainlyafraid too large a coin mightstick to a finger and come out.

Atthis moment who should come bounding up but Gerard. He had two strawsin his handand he threw himself down by the fire and relievedMargaret of the cooking part: then suddenly recognizing theburgomasterhe coloured all over. Ghysbrecht Van Swieten started andglared at himand took his hand out of his purse. "Oh!"said he bitterly"I am not wanted" and went slowly oncasting a long look of suspicion on Margaretand hostility onGerardthat was not very intelligible. Howeverthere was somethingabout it that Margaret could read enough to blush atand almost tossher head. Gerard only stared with surprise. "By St. BavonIthink the old miser grudges us three our quart of soup" saidhe. When the young man put that interpretation on Ghysbrecht'sstrange and meaning lookMargaret was greatly relievedand smiledgaily on the speaker.

MeanwhileGhysbrecht plodded onmore wretched in his wealth than these intheir poverty. And the curious thing isthat the mulethe purplehousingsand one-half the coin in that plethoric pursebelonged notto Ghysbrecht Van Swietenbut to that faded old man and that comelygirlwho sat by a roadside fire to he fed by a stranger. They didnot know this; but Ghysbrecht knew itand carried in his heart ascorpion of his own begetting; that scorpion is remorse - the remorsethatnot being penitenceis incurableand ready for fresh misdeedsupon a fresh temptation.

Twentyyears agowhen Ghysbrecht Van Swieten was a hard and honest manthetouchstone opportunity came to himand he did an act of heartlessroguery. It seemed a safe one. It had hitherto proved a safe onethough he had never felt safe. To-day he had seen youthenterpriseandabove allknowledgeseated by fair Margaret and her father onterms that look familiar and loving.

Andthe fiends are at big ear again.

 

CHAPTERII

"Thesoup is hot" said Gerard.

"Buthow are we to get it to our mouths?" inquired the seniordespondingly.

"Fatherthe young man has brought us straws." And Margaret smiled slily.

"Ayay!" said the old man; "but my poor bones are stiffandindeed the fire is too hot for a body to kneel over with these shortstraws. St. John the Baptistbut the young man is adroit!"

Forwhile he stated his difficultyGerard removed it. He untied in amoment the knot on his breasttook his hat offput a stone intoeach corner of itthenwrapping his hand in the tail of his jerkinwhipped the flask off the firewedged it in between the stonesandput the hat under the old man's nose with a merry smile. The othertremulously inserted the pipe of rye-straw and sucked. Lo and beholdhis wandrawn face was seen to light up more and moretill it quiteglowed; and as soon as he had drawn a long breath:

"Hippocratesand Galen!" he cried"'tis a soupe au vin - therestorative of restoratives. Blessed be the nation that invented itand the woman that made itand the young man who brings it tofainting folk. Have a suckmy girlwhile I relate to our young hostthe history and virtues of this his sovereign compound. Thiscorroborativeyoung sirwas unknown to the ancients: we find itneither in their treatises of medicinenor in those popularnarrativeswhich reveal many of their remediesboth in chirurgeryand medicine proper. Hectorin the Iliasif my memory does not playme false---

(Margaret."Alas! he's off.")

----wasinvited by one of the ladies of the poem to drink a draught of wine;but he declinedon the plea that he was just going into battleandmust not take aught to weaken his powers. Nowif the soupe au vinhad been known in Troyit is clear that in declining vinum merumupon that scorehe would have added in the hexameter'But a soupeau vinmadamI will degustand gratefully.' Not only would thishave been but common civility - a virtue no perfect commander iswanting in - but not to have done it would have proved him a shallowand improvident personunfit to be trusted with the conduct of awar; for men going into a battle need sustenance and all possiblesupportas is proved by thisthat foolish generalsbringing hungrysoldiers to blows with full oneshave been defeatedin all agesbyinferior numbers. The Romans lost a great battle in the north ofItaly to Hannibalthe Carthaginianby this neglect alone. Nowthisdivine elixir gives in one moment force to the limbs and ardour tothe spirits; and taken into Hector's body at the nick of timewouldby the aid of PhoebusVenusand the blessed saintshave mostlikely procured the Greeks a defeat. For note how faint and weary andheart-sick I was a minute ago; wellI suck this celestial cordialand now behold me brave as Achilles and strong as an eagle."

"Ohfathernow? an eaglealack!"

"GirlI defy thee and all the world. ReadyI saylike a foaming chargerto devour the space between this and Rotterdamand strong to combatthe ills of lifeeven poverty and old agewhich last philosophershave called the summum malum. Negatur; unless the man's life has beenill-spent - whichby the byeit generally has. Now for themoderns!"

"Father!dear father!"

"Fearme notgirl; I will be briefunreasonably and unseasonably brief.The soupe au vin occurs not in modern science; but this is only oneproof moreif proof were neededthat for the last few hundred yearsphysicians have been idiotswith their chicken-broth and theirdecoction of goldwhereby they attribute the highest qualities tothat meat which has the least juice of any meatand to that metalwhich has less chemical qualities than all the metals; mountebanks!dunces! homicides! Sincethenfrom these no light is to begatheredgo we to the chroniclers; and first we find thatDuguesclina French knightbeing about to join battle with theEnglish - mastersat that timeof half Franceand sturdy strikersby sea and land - dranknot onebut three soupes au vin in honourof the Blessed Trinity. This donehe charged the islanders; andasmight have been foretoldkilled a multitudeand drove the rest intothe sea. But he was only the first of a long list of holy andhard-hitting ones who haveby this divine restorativebeensustentatedfortifiedcorroboratedand consoled."

"Dearfatherprithee add thyself to that venerable company ere the soupcools." And Margaret held the hat imploringly in both hands tillhe inserted the straw once more.

Thisspared them the "modern instances" and gave Gerard anopportunity of telling Margaret how proud his mother would be hersoup had profited a man of learning.

"Ay!but" said Margaret"it would like her ill to see her songive all and take none himself. Why brought you but two straws?"

"FairmistressI hoped you would let me put my lips to your strawtherebeing but two."

Margaretsmiled and blushed. "Never beg that you may command" saidshe. "The straw is not mine'tis yours: you cut it in yonderfield."

"Icut itand that made it mine; but after thatyour lip touched itand that made it yours."

"Didit Then I will lend it you. There - now it is yours again; your liphas touched it."

"Noit belongs to us both now. Let us divide it."

"Byall means; you have a knife."

"NoI will not cut it - that would be unlucky. I'll bite it. There Ishall keep my half: you will burn yoursonce you get homeI doubt.'

"Youknow me not. I waste nothing. It is odds but I make a hairpin of itor something."

Thisanswer dashed the novice Gerardinstead of provoking himto fresheffortsand he was silent. And nowthe bread and soup beingdisposed ofthe old scholar prepared to continue his journey. Thencame a little difficulty: Gerard the adroit could not tie his ribbonagain as Catherine had tied it. Margaretafter slily eyeing hisefforts for some timeoffered to help him; for at her age girls loveto be coy and tendersaucy and gentleby turnsand she saw she hadput him out of countenance but now. Then a fair headwith itsstately crown of auburn hairglossy and glowing through silverbowed sweetly towards him; andwhile it ravished his eyetwo whitesupple hands played delicately upon the stubborn ribbonand mouldedit with soft and airy touches. Then a heavenly thrill ran through theinnocent young manand vague glimpses of a new world of feeling andsentiment opened on him. And these new and exquisite sensationsMargaret unwittingly prolonged: it is not natural to her sex to hurryaught that pertains to the sacred toilet. Naywhen the taper fingershad at last subjugated the ends of the knother mind was not quiteeasytillby a manoeuvre peculiar to the female handshe had madeher palm convexand so applied it with a gentle pressure to thecentre of the knot - a sweet little coaxing hand-kissas much as tosay"Now be a good knotand stay so." The palm-kiss wasbestowed on the ribbonbut the wearer's heart leaped to meet it.

"Therethat is how it was" said Margaretand drew back to take onelast keen survey of her work; thenlooking up for simple approval ofher skillreceived full in her eyes a longing gaze of such ardentadorationas made her lower them quickly and colour all over. Anindescribable tremor seized herand she retreated with downcastlashes and tell-tale cheeksand took her father's arm on theopposite side. Gerardblushing at having scared her away with hiseyestook the other arm; and so the two young things went downcastand consciousand propped the eagle along in silence.

Theyentered Rotterdam by the Schiedamze Poort; andas Gerard wasunacquainted with the townPeter directed him the way to the HoochStraetin which the Stadthouse was. He himself was going withMargaret to his cousinin the Ooster-Waagen Straetsoalmost onentering the gatetheir roads lay apart. They bade each other afriendly adieuand Gerard dived into the great town. A profoundsense of solitude fell upon himyet the streets were crowded. Thenhe lamented too late thatout of delicacyhe bad not asked his latecompanions who they were and where they lived.

"Beshrewmy shamefacedness!" said he. "But their words and theirbreeding were above their meansand something did whisper me theywould not be known. I shall never see her more. Oh weary worldIhate you and your ways. To think I must meet beauty and goodness andlearning - three pearls of price - and never see them more!"

Fallinginto this sad reverieand letting his body go where it wouldhelost his way; but presently meeting a crowd of persons all moving inone directionhe mingled with themfor he argued they must bemaking for the Stadthouse. Soon the noisy troop that contained themoody Gerard emergednot upon the Stadthousebut upon a largemeadow by the side of the Maas; and then the attraction was revealed.Games of all sorts were going on: wrestlingthe game of palmthequintainlegerdemainarcherytumblingin which artI blush tosaywomen as well as men performedto the great delectation of thecompany. There was also a trained bearwho stood on his headandmarched uprightand bowed with prodigious gravity to his master; anda hare that beat a drumand a cock that strutted on little stiltsdisdainfully. These things made Gerard laugh now and then; but thegay scene could not really enliven itfor his heart was not in tunewith it. So hearing a young man say to his fellow that the Duke hadbeen in the meadowbut was gone to the Stadthouse to entertain theburgomasters and aldermen and the competitors for the prizesandtheir friendshe suddenly remembered he was hungryand should liketo sup with a prince. He left the river-sideand this time he foundthe Hooch Straetand it speedily led him to the Stadthouse. But whenhe got there he was refusedfirst at one doorthen at anothertillhe came to the great gate of the courtyard. It was kept by soldiersand superintended by a pompous major-domoglittering in anembroidered collar and a gold chain of officeand holding a whitestaff with a gold knob. There was a crowd of persons at the gateendeavouring to soften this official rock. They came up in turn likeripplesand retired as such in turn. It cost Gerard a struggle toget near himand when he was within four heads of the gatehe sawsomething that made his heart beat; there was Peterwith Margaret onhis armsoliciting humbly for entrance.

"Mycousin the alderman is not at home; they say he is here."

"Whatis that to meold man?"

"Ifyou will not let us pass in to himat least take this leaf from mytablet to my cousin. SeeI have written his name; he will come outto us.

"Forwhat do you take me? I carry no messagesI keep the gate."

Hethen bawledin a stentorian voiceinexorably:

"Nostrangers enter herebut the competitors and their companies."

"Comeold man" cried a voice in the crowd"you have gotten youranswer; make way."

Margaretturned half round imploringly:

"Goodpeoplewe are come from farand my father is old; and my cousin hasa new servant that knows us notand would not let us sit in ourcousin's house."

Atthis the crowd laughed hoarsely. Margaret shrank as if they hadstruck her. At that moment a hand grasped hers - a magic grasp; itfelt like heart meeting heartor magnet steel. She turned quicklyround at itand it was Gerard. Such a little cry of joy and appealcame from her bosomand she began to whimper prettily.

Theyhad hustled her and frightened herfor one thing; and her cousin'sthoughtlessnessin not even telling his servant they were comingwas cruel; and the servant's cautionhowever wise and faithful toher masterwas bitterly mortifying to her father and her. And to herso mortifiedand anxious and jostledcame suddenly this kind handand face.

"Hincillae lacrimae."

"Allis well now" remarked a coarse humourist; "she hath gottenher sweetheart."

"Haw!haw! haw!" went the crowd.

Shedropped Gerard's hand directlyand turned roundwith eyes flashingthrough her tears:

"Ihave no sweetheartyou rude men. But I am friendless in your boorishtownand this is a friend; and one who knowswhat you know nothowto treat the aged and the weak."

Thecrowd was dead silent. They had only been thoughtlessand now feltthe rebukethough severewas just. The silence enabled Gerard totreat with the porter.

"Iam a competitorsir."

"Whatis your name?" and the man eyed him suspiciously.

"Gerardthe son of Elias."

Thejanitor inspected a slip of parchment he held in his hand:

"GerardEliassoen can enter."

"Withmy companythese two?"

"Nay;those are not your company they came before you."

"Whatmatter? They are my friendsand without them I go not in."

"Staywithoutthen."

"Thatwill I not."

"Thatwe shall see."

"Wewilland speedily." And with thisGerard raised a voice ofastounding volume and powerand routed so that the whole streetrang:

"Ho!PHILIPEARL OF HOLLAND!"

"Areyou mad?" cried the porter.

"HEREIS ONE OF YOUR VARLETS DEFIES YOU."

"Hushhush!"

"ANDWILL NOT LET YOUR GUESTS PASS IN."

"Hush!murder! The Dukes there. I'm dead" cried the janitorquaking.

Thensuddenly trying to overpower Gerard's thunderhe shoutedwith allhis lungs:

"OPENTHE GATEYE KNAVES! WAY THERE FOR GERARD ELIASSOEN AND HIS COMPANY!(The fiends go with him!)"

Thegate swung open as by magic. Eight soldiers lowered their pikeshalfwayand made an archunder which the victorious three marchedin triumphant. The moment they had passedthe pikes clashed togetherhorizontally to bar the gatewayand all but pinned an abdominalcitizen that sought to wedge in along with them.

Oncepast the guarded portala few steps brought the trio upon a scene ofOriental luxury. The courtyard was laid out in tables loaded withrich meats and piled with gorgeous plate. Guests in rich and variouscostumes sat beneath a leafy canopy of fresh-cut branches fastenedtastefully to goldensilverand blue silken cords that traversedthe area; and fruits of many huesincluding some artificial ones ofgoldsilverand waxhung pendantor peeped like fair eyes amongthe green leaves of plane-trees and lime-trees. The Duke's minstrelsswept their lutes at intervalsand a fountain played red Burgundy insix jets that met and battled in the air. The evening sun darted itsfires through those bright and purple wine spoutsmaking them jetsand cascades of molten rubiesthen passing ontinged with the bloodof the grapeshed crimson glories here and there on fair facessnowy beardsvelvetsatinjewelled hiltsglowing goldgleamingsilverand sparkling glass. Gerard and his friends stood dazzledspell-bound. Presently a whisper buzzed round them"Salute theDuke! Salute the Duke!" They looked upand there on highunderthe daiswas their sovereignbidding them welcome with a kindlywave of the hand. The men bowed lowand Margaret curtsied with adeep and graceful obeisance. The Duke's hand being uphe gave itanother turnand pointed the new-comers out to a knot of valets.Instantly seven of his peoplewith an obedient startwent headlongat our friendsseated them at a tableand put fifteen many-colouredsoups before themin little silver bowlsand as many wines incrystal vases.

"Nayfatherlet us not eat until we have thanked our good friend"said Margaretnow first recovering from all this bustle.

"Girlhe is our guardian angel."

Gerardput his face into his hands.

"Tellme when you have done" said he"and I will reappear andhave my supperfor I am hungry. I know which of us three is thehappiest at meeting again."

"Me?"inquired Margaret.

"No:guess again."

"Father?"

"No."

"ThenI have no guess which it can be;" and she gave a little crow ofhappiness and gaiety. The soup was tastedand vanished in a twirl offourteen handsand fish came on the table in a dozen formswithpatties of lobster and almonds mixedand of almonds and creamandan immense variety of brouets known to us as rissoles. The nexttrifle was a wild boarwhich smelt divine. Whythendid Margaretstart away from it with two shrieks of dismayand pinch so good afriend as Gerard? Because the Duke's cuisinier had been too clever;had made this excellent dish too captivating to the sight as well astaste. He had restored to the animalby elaborate mimicry with burntsugar and other edible coloursthe hair and bristles he had robbedhim of by fire and water. To make him still more enticingthe hugetusks were carefully preserved in the brute's jawand gave his mouththe winning smile that comes of tusk in man or beast; and two eyes ofcoloured sugar glowed in his head. St. Argus! what eyes! so brightso bloodshotso threatening - they followed a man and every movementof his knife and spoon. ButindeedI need the pencil of Granvilleor Tenniel to make you see the two gilt valets on the opposite sideof the table putting the monster down before our friendswith asmilingself-satisfiedbenevolent obsequiousness for this ghastlymonster was the flower of all comestibles - old Peter clasping bothhands in pious admiration of it; Margaret wheeling round withhorror-stricken eyes and her hand on Gerard's shouldersqueaking andpinching; his face of unwise delight at being pinchedthe grizzlybrute glaring sulkily on alland the guests grinning from ear toear.

"What'sto do?" shouted the Dukehearing the signals of femaledistress. Seven of his people with a zealous start went headlong andtold him. He laughed and said"Give her of the beef-stuffingthenand bring me Sir Boar." Benevolent monarch! Thebeef-stuffing was his own private dish. On these grand occasions anox was roasted wholeand reserved for the poor. But this wise aswell as charitable prince had discoveredthat whatever venisonbareslambpoultryetc.you skewered into that beef caverngotcooked to perfectionretaining their own juices and receiving thoseof the reeking ox. These he called his beef-stuffingand tookdelight thereinas did now our trio; forat his wordseven of hispeople went headlongand drove silver tridents into the steamingcave at randomand speared a kida cygnetand a flock of wildfowl.These presently smoked before Gerard and company; and Peter's facesad and slightly morose at the loss of the savage hogexpanded andshone. After thistwenty different tarts of fruits and herbsandlast of allconfectionery on a Titanic scale; cathedrals of sugarall gilt painted in the interstices of the bas-reliefs; castles withmoatsand ditches imitated to the life; elephantscamelstoads;knights on horseback jousting; kings and princesses looking ontrumpeters blowing; and all these personages eatingand their veinsfilled with sweet-scented juices: works of art made to be destroyed.The guests breached a bastioncrunched a crusader and his horse andlanceor cracked a bishopcopechasublecrosier and allasremorselessly as we do a caraway comfit; sipping meanwhile hippocrasand other spiced drinksand Greek and Corsican wineswhile everynow and then little Turkish boysturbanedspangledjewelledandgiltcame offering on bended knee golden troughs of rose-water andorange-water to keep the guests' hands cool and perfumed.

Butlong before our party arrived at this final stage appetite hadsuccumbedand Gerard had suddenly remembered he was the bearer of aletter to the Princess Marieandin an under-tonehad asked one ofthe servants if he would undertake to deliver it. The man took itwith a deep obeisance: "He could not deliver it himselfbutwould instantly give it one of the Princess's suiteseveral of whomwere about."

Itmay be remembered that Peter and Margaret came here not to dinebutto find their cousin. Wellthe old gentleman ate heartilyand -being much fatigueddropped asleepand forgot all about his cousin.Margaret did not remind him; we shall hear why.

Meanwhilethat Cousin was seated within a few feet of themat their backsanddiscovered them when Margaret turned round and screamed at the boar.But he forbore to speak to themfor municipal reasons. Margaret wasvery plainly dressedand Peter inclined to threadbare. So thealderman said to himself:

"'Twillbe time to make up to them when the sun sets and the companydisperses then I will take my poor relations to my houseand nonewill be the wiser."

Halfthe courses were lost on Gerard and Margaret. They were no greateatersand just now were feeding on sweet thoughts that have everbeen unfavourable to appetite. But there is a delicate kind ofsensualityto whose influence these two were perhaps more sensitivethan any other pair in that assembly - the delights of colourmusicand perfumeall of which blended so fascinatingly here.

Margaretleaned back and half closed her eyesand murmured to Gerard: "Whata lovely scene! the warm sunthe green shadethe rich dressesthebright music of the lutes and the cool music of the fountainand allfaces so happy and gay! and thenit is to you we owe it."

Gerardwas silent all but his eyes; observing which -

"Nowspeak not to me" said Margaret languidly; "let me listento the fountain: what are you a competitor for?"

Hetold her.

"Verywell! You will gain one prizeat least."

"Which?which? have you seen any of my work?"

"I?no. But you will gain a prize.

"Ihope so; but what makes you think so?"

"Becauseyou were so good to my father."

Gerardsmiled at the feminine logicand hung his head at the sweet praiseand was silent.

"Speaknot" murmured Margaret. "They say this is a world of sinand misery. Can that be? What is your opinion?"

"No!that is all a silly old song" explained Gerard. "'Tis abyword our elders keep repeatingout of custom: it is not true."

"Howcan you know? You are but a child" said Margaretwith pensivedignity.

"Whyonly look round! And then thought I had lost you for ever; and youare by my side; and now the minstrels are going to play again. Sinand misery? Stuff and nonsense!"

Thelutes burst out. The courtyard rang again with their delicateharmony.

"Whatdo you admire most of all these beautiful thingsGerard?"

"Youknow my name? How is that?"

"Whitemagic. I am a - witch."

"Angelsare never witches. But I can't think how you - "

"Foolishboy! was it not cried at the gate loud enough to deave one?"

"Soit was. Where is my head? What do I admire most? If you will sit alittle more that wayI'll tell you."

"Thisway?"

"Yes;so that the light may fall on you. There! I see many fair thingsherefairer than I could have conceived; but the fairest of alltomy eyeis your lovely hair in its silver frameand the setting sunkissing it. It minds me of what the Vulgate praises for beauty'anapple of gold in a network of silver' and ohwhat a pity I did notknow you before I sent in my poor endeavours at illuminating! I couldilluminate so much better now. I could do everything better. Therenow the sun is full on itit is like an aureole. So our Lady lookedand none since her until to-day."

"Ohfie! it is wicked to talk so. Compare a poorcoarse-favoured girllike me with the Queen of Heaven? OhGerard! I thought you were agood young man." And Margaret was shocked apparently.

Gerardtried to explain. "I am no worse than the rest; but how can Ihelp having eyesand a heart Margaret!"

"Gerard!"

"Benot angry now!"

"Nowis it likely?"

"Ilove you."

"Ohfor shame! you must not say that to me" and Margaret colouredfuriously at this sudden assault.

"Ican't help it. I love you. I love you."

"Hushhush! for pity's sake! I must not listen to such words from astranger. I am ungrateful to call you a stranger. Oh! how one may bemistaken! If I had known you were so bold - And Margaret's bosombegan to heaveand her cheeks were covered with blushesand shelooked towards her sleeping fathervery much like a timid thing thatmeditates actual flight.

ThenGerard was frightened at the alarm he caused. "Forgive me"said he imploringly. "How could any one help loving you?"

"WellsirI will try and forgive you - you are so good in other respects;but then you must promise me never to say you - to say that again."

"Giveme your hand thenor you don't forgive me."

Shehesitated; but eventually put out her hand a very little wayveryslowlyand with seeming reluctance. He took itand held itprisoner. When he thought it had been there long enoughshe triedgently to draw it away. He held it tight: it submitted quitepatiently to force. What is the use resisting force She turned herhead awayand her long eyelashes drooped sweetly. Gerard lostnothing by his promise. Words were not needed here; and silence wasmore eloquent. Nature was in that day what she is in ours; butmanners were somewhat freer. Then as nowvirgins drew back alarmedat the first words of love; but of prudery and artificial coquetrythere was littleand the young soon read one another's hearts.Everything was on Gerard's sidehis good looksher belief in hisgoodnessher gratitude; and opportunity for at the Duke's banquetthis mellow summer eveall things disposed the female nature totenderness: the avenues to the heart lay open; the senses were sosoothed and subdued with lovely coloursgentle soundsand delicateodours; the sun gently sinkingthe warm airthe green canopythecool music of the now violet fountain.

Gerardand Margaret sat hand in hand in silence; and Gerard's eyes soughthers lovingly; and hers now and then turned on him timidly andimploringly and presently two sweet unreasonable tears rolled downher cheeksand she smiled

whilethey were drying: yet they did not take long.

Andthe sun declined; and the air cooled; and the fountain plashed moregently; and the pair throbbed in unison and silenceand this wearyworld looked heaven to them.
Ohthe merry daysthe merry dayswhen we were young.
Ohthe merry daysthe merry days when wewere young.

 

CHAPTERIII

Agrave white-haired seneschal came to their tableand inquiredcourteously whether Gerard Eliassoen was of their company. UponGerard's answerhe said:

"ThePrincess Marie would confer with youyoung sir; I am to conduct youto her presence."

Instantlyall faces within hearing turned sharp roundand were bent withcuriosity and envy on the man that was to go to a princess.

Gerardrose to obey.

"Iwager we shall not see you again" said Margaret calmlybutcolouring a little.

"Thatyou will" was the reply: then he whispered in her ear: "Thisis my good princess; but you are my queen." He added aloud:"Wait for meI pray youI will presently return."

"Ayay!" said Peterawaking and speaking at one and the samemoment.

Gerardgonethe pair whose dress was so homelyyet they were with the manwhom the Princess sent forbecame "the cynosure of neighbouringeyes;" observing whichWilliam Johnson came forwardactedsurpriseand claimed his relations.

"Andto think that there was I at your backsand you saw me not"

"Naycousin JohnsonI saw you long syne" said Margaret coldly.

"Yousaw meand spoke not to me?"

"Cousinit was for you to welcome us to Rotterdamas it is for us to welcomeyou at Sevenbergen. Your servant denied us a seat in your house."

"Theidiot!"

"AndI had a mind to see whether it was 'like maid like master:' for thereis sooth in bywords."

WilliamJohnson blushed purple. He saw Margaret was keenand suspected him.He did the wisest thing under the circumstancestrusted to deeds notwords. He insisted on their coming home with him at onceand hewould show them whether they were welcome to Rotterdam or not.

"Whodoubts itcousin? Who doubts it?" said the scholar.

Margaretthanked him graciouslybut demurred to go just now: said she wantedto hear the minstrels again. In about a quarter of an hour Johnsonrenewed his proposaland bade her observe that many of the guestshad left. Then her real reason came out.

"Itwere ill manners to our friend; and he will lose us. He knows notwhere we lodge in Rotterdamand the city is largeand we haveparted company once already."

"Oh!"said Johnson"we will provide for that. My young manahem! Imean my secretaryshall sit here and waitand bring him on to myhouse: he shall lodge with me and with no other."

"Cousinwe shall be too burdensome."

"Naynay; you shall see whether you are welcome or notyou and yourfriendsand your friends' friendsif need be; and I shall hear whatthe Princess would with him."

Margaretfelt a thrill of joy that Gerard should be lodged under the same roofwith her; then she had a slight misgiving.

"Butif your young man should be thoughtlessand go playand Gerard misshim?"

"Hego play? He leave that spot where I put himand bid him stay? Ho!stand forthHans Cloterman."

Afigure clad in black serge and dark violet hose aroseand took twosteps and stood before them without moving a muscle: a solemnprecise young manthe very statue of gravity and starched propriety.At his aspect Margaretbeing very happycould hardly keep hercountenance. But she whispered Johnson"I would put my hand inthe fire for him. We are at your commandcousinas soon as you havegiven him his orders."

Hanswas then instructed to sit at the table and wait for Gerardandconduct him to Ooster-Waagen Straet. He repliednot in wordsbut bycalmly taking the seat indicatedand MargaretPeterand WilliamJohnson went away together.

"Andindeedit is time you were abedfatherafter all your travel"said Margaret. This had been in her mind all along.

HansCloterman sat waiting for Gerardsolemn and businesslike. Theminutes flew bybut excited no impatience in that perfect young man.Johnson did him no more than justice when he laughed to scorn theidea of his secretary leaving his post or neglecting his duty inpursuit of sport or out of youthful hilarity and frivolity.

AsGerard was long in comingthe patient Hans - his employer's eyebeing no longer on him improved the time by quaffing solemnlysilentlyand at short but accurately measured intervalsgoblets ofCorsican wine. The wine was strongso was Cloterman's head; andGerard had been gone a good hour ere the model secretary imbibed thenotion that Creation expected Cloterman to drink the health of allgood fellowsand nommement of the Duke of Burgundy there present.With this view he filled bumper nineand rose gingerly but solemnlyand slowly. Having reached his full heighthe instantly rolled uponthe grassgoblet in handspilling the cold liquor on more than oneankle - whose owners frisked - but not disturbing a muscle in his ownlong facewhichin the total eclipse of reasonretained itsgravityprimnessand infallibility.

Theseneschal led Gerard through several passages to the door of thepavilionwhere some young noblemenembroidered and featheredsatsentinelguarding the heir-apparentand playing cards by the redlight of torches their servants held. A whisper from the seneschaland one of them rose reluctantlystared at Gerard with haughtysurpriseand entered the pavilion. He presently returnedandbeckoning the pairled thenthrough a passage or two and landedthem in an ante-chamberwhere sat three more young gentlemenfeatheredfurredand embroidered like pieces of fancy workanddeep in that instructive and edifying branch of learningdice.

"Youcan't see the Princess - it is too late" said one.

Anotherfollowed suit:

"Shepassed this way but now with her nurse. She is gone to beddoll andall. Deuce - ace again!"

Gerardprepared to retire. The seneschalwith an incredulous smilereplied:

"Theyoung man is here by the Countess's orders; be so good as conduct himto her ladies."

Onthis a superb Adonis rosewith an injured lookand led Gerard intoa room where sat or lolloped eleven ladieschattering like magpies.Twomore industrious than the restwere playing cat's-cradle withfingers as nimble as their tongues. At the sight of a stranger allthe tongues stopped like one piece of complicated machineryand allthe eyes turned on Gerardas if the same string that checked thetongues had turned the eyes on. Gerard was ill at ease beforebutthis battery of eyes discountenanced himand down went his eyes onthe ground. Then the cowards findinglike the hare who ran by thepond and the frogs scuttled into the waterthat there was a creaturethey could frightengiggled and enjoyed their prowess. Then a duennasaid severely"Mesdames!" and they were all abashed atonce as though a modesty string had been pulled. This same duennatook Gerardand marched before him in solemn silence. The youngman's heart sankand he had half a mind to turn and run out of theplace.

"Whatmust princes be" he thought"when their courtiers are sofreezing? Doubtless they take their breeding from him they serve."These reflections were interrupted by the duenna suddenly introducinghim into a room where three ladies sat workingand a pretty littlegirl tuning a lute. The ladies were richly but not showily dressedand the duenna went up to the one who was hemming a kerchiefandsaid a few words in a low tone. This lady then turned towards Gerardwith a smileand beckoned him to come near her. She did not risebut she laid aside her workand her manner of turning towards himslight as the movement waswas full of graCe and ease and courtesy.She began a conversation at once.

"MargaretVan Eyck is an old friend of minesirand I am right glad to have aletter from her handand thankful to yousirfor bringing it to mesafely. Mariemy lovethis is the gentleman who brought you thatpretty miniature."

"SirI thank you a thousand times" said the young lady.

"Iam glad you feel her debtorsweetheartfor our friend would have usto do him a little service in return.

"Iwill do anything on earth for him" replied the young lady withardour.

"Anythingon earth is nothing in the world" said the Countess ofCharolois quietly.

"WellthenI will - What would you have me to dosir?"

Gerardhad just found out what high society he was in. "My sovereigndemoiselle" said hegently and a little tremulously"wherethere have been no painsthere needs no reward."

Butwe must obey mamma. All the world must obey

"Thatis true. Thenour demoisellereward meif you will. by letting mehear the stave you were going to sing and I did interrupt it."

"What!you love musicsir?"

"Iadore it."

Thelittle princess looked inquiringly at her motherand received asmile of assent. She then took her lute and sang a romaunt of theday. Although but twelve years oldshe was a well-taught andpainstaking musician. Her little claw swept the chords with Courageand precisionand struck out the notes of the arpeggio clearanddistinctand brightlike twinkling stars; but the main charm washer voice. It was not mightybut it was roundclearfullandringing like a bell. She sang with a certain modest eloquencethoughshe knew none of the tricks of feeling. She was too young to betheatricalor even sentimentalso nothing was forced - all gushed.Her little mouth seemed the mouth of Nature. The dittytoowas aspure as its utterance. As there were none of those false divisions -those whining slurswhich are now sold so dear by Italian songstersthough every jackal in India delivers them gratis to his customersall nightand sometimes gets shot for themand always deserves it -so there were no cadences and fioriturithe triteturgidandfeeble expletives of songthe skim-milk with which mindlessmusicians and mindless writers quench firewash out colouranddrown melody and meaning dead.

Whilethe pure and tender strain was flowing from the pure young throatGerard's eyes filled. The Countess watched him with interestfor itwas usual to applaud the Princess loudlybut not with cheek and eye.So when the voice ceasedand the glasses left off ringingshe askeddemurely"Was he content?"

Gerardgave a little start; the spoken voice broke a charm and brought himback to earth.

"Ohmadam!" he cried"surely it is thus that cherubs andseraphs singand charm the saints in heaven."

"Iam somewhat of your opinionmy young friend" said theCountesswith emotion; and she bent a look of love and gentle prideupon her girl: a heavenly looksuch asthey sayis given to theeye of the short-lived resting on the short-lived.

TheCountess resumed: "My old friend request me to be serviceable toyou. It is the first favour she has done us the honour of asking usand the request is sacred. You are in holy orderssir?"

Gerardbowed.

"Ifear you are not a priestyou look too young."

"Ohnomadam; I am not even a sub-deacon. I am only a lector; but nextmonth I shall be an exorcistand before long an acolyth."

"WellMonsieur Gerardwith your accomplishments you can soon pass throughthe inferior orders. And let me beg you to do so. For the day afteryou have said your first mass I shall have the pleasure of appointingyou to a benefice."

"Ohmadam!"

"AndMarieremember I make this promise in your name as well as my own."

"Fearnotmamma: I will not forget. But if he will take my advicewhat hewill be is Bishop of Liege. The Bishop of Liege is a beautifulbishop. What! do you not remember himmammathat day we were atLiege? he was braver than grandpapa himself. He had on a crownahigh oneand it was cut in the middleand it was full of oh! suchbeautiful jewels; and his gown stiff with gold; and his mantletoo;and it had a broad borderall pictures; butabove allhis gloves;you have no such glovesmamma. They were embroidered and coveredwith jewelsand scented with such lovely scent; I smelt them all thetime he was giving me his blessing on my head with them. Dear oldman! I dare say he will die soon most old people do and thensiryou Can be bishop. you knowand wear -

"GentlyMariegently: bishoprics are for old gentlemen; and this is a younggentleman."

"Mamma!he is not so very young.

"Notcompared with youMarieeh?"

"Heis a good bigth. dear mamma; and I am sure he is good enough for abishop.

"Alas!mademoiselleyou are mistaken"

"Iknow not thatMonsieur Gerard; but I am a little puzzled to know onwhat grounds mademoiselle there pronounces your character so boldly."

"Alas!mammasaid the Princess"you have not looked at his facethen; "and she raised her eyebrows at her mother's simplicity.

"Ibeg your pardon" said the Countess"I have. WellsirifI cannot go quite so fast as my daughterattribute it to my agenotto a want of interest in your welfare. A benefice will do to beginyour Career with; and I must take care it is not too far from - whatcall you the place?"

"Tergoumadam

"Apriest gives up much" continued the Countess; "oftenIfearhe learns too late how much;" and her woman's eye rested amoment on Gerard with mild pity and half surprise at his resigningher sex and all the heaven they can bestowand the great parentaljoys: "at least you shall be near your friends. Have you amother?"

"Yesmadamthanks be to God!"

"Good!You shall have a church near Tergou. She will thank me. And nowsirwe must not detain you too long from those who have a better claim onyour society than we have. Duchessoblige me by bidding one of thepages conduct him to the hall of banquet; the way is hard to find."

Gerardbowed low to the Countess and the Princessand backed towards thedoor.

"Ihope it will be a nice benefice" said the Princess to himwitha pretty smileas he was going out; thenshaking her head with anair of solemn misgiving"but you had better have been Bishop ofLiege."

Gerardfollowed his new conductorhis heart warm with gratitude; but ere hereached the banquet-hall a chill came over him. The mind of one whohas led a quietuneventful life is not apt to take in contradictoryfeelings at the same moment and balance thembut rather to beoverpowered by each in turn. While Gerard was with the Countesstheexcitement of so new a situationthe unlooked-for promise. the joyand pride it would cause at homepossessed him wholly; but now itwas passion's turn to be heard again. What! give up Margaretwhosesoft hand he still felt in hisand her deep eyes in his heart?resign her and all the world of love and joy she had opened on himto-day? The revulsionwhen it did comewas so strong that hehastily resolved to say nothing at home about the offered benefice."The Countess is so good" thought he"she has ahundred ways of aiding a young man's fortune: she will not compel meto be a priest when she shall learn I love one of her sex: one wouldalmost think she does know itfor she cast a strange look on meandsaid'A priest gives up muchtoo much.' I dare say she will give mea place about the palace." And with this hopeful reflection hismind was easedandbeing now at the entrance of the banquetinghallhe thanked his conductorand ran hastily with joyful eyes toMargaret. He came in sight of the table- she was gone. Peter was gonetoo. Nobody was at the table at all; only a citizen in sober garmentshad just tumbled under it dead drunkand several persons wereraising him to carry him away. Gerard never guessed how importantthis solemn drunkard was to him: he was looking for "Beauty"and let the "Beast" lie. He ran wildly round the hallwhich was now comparatively empty. She was not there. He left thepalace: outside he found a crowd gaping at two great fan-lights justlighted over the gate. He asked them earnestly if they had seen anold man in a gownand a lovely girl pass out. They laughed at thequestion. "They were staring at these new lights that turn nightinto day. They didn't trouble their heads about old men and youngwenchesevery-day sights." From another group he learned therewas a Mystery being played under canvas hard byand all the worldgone to see it. This revived his hopesand he went and saw theMystery.

Inthis representation divine personagestoo sacred for me to nameherecame clumsily down from heaven to talk sophistry with thecardinal Virtuesthe nine Musesand the seven deadly sinsallpresent in human shapeand not unlike one another. To enliven whichweary stuff in rattled the Prince of the power of the airand an impthat kept molesting him and buffeting him with a bladderat eachthwack of which the crowd were in ecstasies. When the Vices haduttered good store of obscenity and the Virtues twaddlethecelestialsincluding the nine Muses went gingerly back to heaven oneby one; for there was but one cloud; and two artisans worked it tipwith its supernatural freightand worked it down with a winchinfull sight of the audience. These disposed ofthe bottomless pitopened and flamed in the centre of the stage; the carpenters andVirtues shoved the Vices inand the Virtues and Beelzebub and histormentor danced merrily round the place of eternal torture to thefife and tabor.

Thisentertainment was writ by the Bishop of Ghent for the diffusion ofreligious sentiment by the aid of the sensesand was an averagespecimen of theatrical exhibitions so long as they were in the handsof the clergy. Butin course of timethe laity conducted playsandso the theatreI learn from the pulpithas become profane.

Margaretwas nowhere in the crowdand Gerard could not enjoy the performance;he actually went away in Act 2in the midst of a much-admired pieceof dialoguein which Justice out-quibbled Satan. He walked throughmany streetsbut could not find her he sought. At lastfairly wornouthe went to a hostelry and slept till daybreak. All that dayheavy and heartsickhe sought herbut could never fall in with heror her fathernor ever obtain the slightest clue. Then he felt shewas false or had changed her mind. He was irritated nowas well assad. More good fortune fell on him; he almost hated it. At lastonthe third dayafter he had once more been through every streethesaid"She is not in the townand I shall never see her again.I will go home." He started for Tergou with royal favourpromisedwith fifteen golden angels in his pursea golden medal onhis bosomand a heart like a lump of lead.

 

CHAPTERIV

Itwas near four o'clock in the afternoon. Eli was in the shop. Hiseldest and youngest sons were abroad. Catherine and her littlecrippled daughter had long been anxious about Gerardand now theywere gone a little way down the roadto see if by good luck he mightbe visible in the distance; and Giles was alone in the sitting-roomwhich I will sketchfurniture and dwarf included.

TheHollanders were always an original and leading people. They claim tohave invented printing (wooden type)oil-paintinglibertybankinggardeningetc. Above allyears before my talethey inventedcleanliness. Sowhile the English gentryin velvet jerkins andchicken-toed shoestrode floors of stale rushesfoul receptacle ofbonesdecomposing morselsspittledogseggsand allabominationsthis hosier's sitting-room at Tergou was floored withDutch tilesso highly glazed and constantly washedthat you couldeat off them. There was one large window; the cross stone-work in thecentre of it was very massiveand stood in relieflooking like anactual cross to the inmatesand was eyed as such in their devotions.The panes were very small and lozenge-shapedand soldered to oneanother with strips of lead: the like you may see to this day in ourrural cottages. The chairs were rude and primitiveall but thearm-chairwhose backat right angles with its seatwas so highthat the sitter's head stopped two feet short of the top. This chairwas of oakand carved at the summit. There was a copper pailthatwent in at the waistholding holy waterand a little hand-besom tosprinkle it far and wide; and a longnarrowbut massive oak tableand a dwarf sticking to its rim by his teethhis eyes glaringandhis claws in the air like a pouncing vampire. natureit would seemdid not make Giles a dwarf out of malice prepense; she constructed ahead and torso with her usual care; but just then her attention wasdistractedand she left the rest to chance; the result was a humanwedgean inverted cone. He might justly have taken her to task inthe terms of Horace



"Amphoracoepit
Institui; currente rota cur urceus exit?"

Hiscentre was anything but his centre of gravity. Bisectedupper Gileswould have outweighed three lower Giles. But this very disproportionenabled him to do feats that would have baffled Milo. His brawny armshad no weight to draw after them; so he could go up a vertical polelike a squirreland hang for hours from a bough by one hand like acherry by its stalk. If he could have made a vacuum with his handsas the lizard is said to do with its feethe would have gone along aceiling. Nowthis pocket-athlete was insanely fond of gripping thedinner-table with both handsand so swinging; and then - climax ofdelight! he would seize it with his teethandtaking off his handshold on like grim death by his huge ivories.

Butall our joyshowever elevatingsuffer interruption. Little Katecaught Sampsonet in this postureand stood aghast. She was hermother's daughterand her heart was with the furniturenot with the12mo gymnast.

"OhGiles! how can you? Mother is at hand. It dents the table."

"Goand tell herlittle tale-bearer" snarled Giles. "You arethe one for making mischief."

"AmI?" inquired Kate calmly; "that is news to me."

"Thebiggest in Tergou" growled Gilesfastening on again.

"Ohindeed!" said Kate drily.

Thispiece of unwonted satire launchedand Giles not visibly blastedshesat down quietly and cried.

Hermother came in almost at that momentand Giles hurled himself underthe tableand there glared.

"Whatis to do now?" said the dame sharply. Then turning herexperienced eyes from Kate to Gilesand observing the position hehad taken upand a sheepish expressionshe hinted at cuffing ofears.

"Naymother" said the girl; "it was but a foolish word Gilesspoke. I had not noticed it at another time; but I was tired and incare for Gerardyou know."

"Letno one be in care for me" said a faint voice at the doorandin tottered Gerardpaledustyand worn out; and amidst upliftedhands and cries of delightcuriosityand anxiety mingleddroppedexhausted into the nearest chair.

BeatingRotterdamlike a covertfor Margaretand the long journeyafterwardshad fairly knocked Gerard up. But elastic youth soonrevivedand behold him the centre of an eager circle. First of allthey must hear about the prizes. Then Gerard told them he had beenadmitted to see the competitors' worksall laid out in an enormoushall before the judges pronounced.

"Ohmother! ohKate! when I saw the goldsmiths' workI had liked tohave fallen on the floor. I thought not all the goldsmiths on earthhad so much goldsilverjewelsand craft of design and facture.Butin soothall the arts are divine."

Thento please the femaleshe described to them the reliquariesferetoriescalicescrosierscrossespyxesmonstrancesand otherwonders ecclesiasticaland the gobletshanapswatchesClockschainsbrooches&c.so that their mouths watered.

"ButKatewhen I came to the illuminated work from Ghent and Brugesmyheart sank. Mine was dirt by the side of it. For the first minute Icould almost have cried; but I prayed for a better spiritandpresently I was able to enjoy themand thank God for those lovelyworksand for those skilfulpatient craftsmenwhom I own mymasters. Wellthe coloured work was so beautiful I forgot all aboutthe black and white. But next daywhen all the other prizes had beengiventhey came to the writingand whose name think you was calledfirst?"

"Yours"said Kate.

Theothers laugher her to scorn.

"Youmay well laugh" said Gerard"but for all thatGerardEliassoen of Tergou was the name the herald shouted. I stood stupid;they thrust me forward. Everything swam before my eyes. I foundmyself kneeling on a cushion at the feet of the Duke. He saidsomething to mebut I was so fluttered I could not answer him. Sothen he put his hand to his sideand did not draw a glaive and cutoff my dull headbut gave me a gold medaland there it is."There was a yell and almost a scramble. "And then he gave mefifteen great bright golden angels. I had seen one beforebut Inever handled one. Here they are."

langnp1031"OhGerard! ohGerard!"

"Thereis one for youour eldest; and one for youSybrandtand for youLittle Mischief; and two for theeLittle Lilybecause God hathafflicted thee; and one for myselfto buy colours and vellum; andnine for her that nursed us alland risked the two crowns upon poorGerard's hand."

Thegold drew out their characters. Cornelis and Sybrandt clutched eachhis coin with one glare of greediness and another glare of envy atKatewho had got two pieces. Giles seized his and rolled it alongthe floor and gambolled after it. Kate put down her crutches and satdownand held out her little arms to Gerard with a heavenly gestureof love and tenderness; and the motherfairly benumbed at first bythe shower of gold that fell on her apronnow cried out"Leavekissing himKate; he is my sonnot yours. Ah. Gerard! my boy! Ihave not loved you as you deserved."

ThenGerard threw himself on his knees beside herand she flung her armsround him and wept for joy and pride upon his neck.

"Goodlad! good lad!" cried the hosierwith some emotion. "Imust go and tell the neighbours. Lend me the medalGerard; I'll showit my good friend Peter Buyskens; he is ever regaling me with how hisson Jorian won the tin mug a shooting at the butts."

"Aydomy man; and show Peter Buyskens one of the angels. Tell him thereare fourteen more where that came from. Mind you bring it me back!"

"Staya minutefather; there is better news behind" said Gerardflushing with joy at the joy he caused.

"Better!better than this?"

ThenGerard told his interview with the Countessand the house rang withjoy.

"NowGod bless the good ladyand bless the dame Van Eyck! A benefice? ourson! My cares are at an end. Elimy good friend and masternow wetwo can die happy whenever our time comes. This dear boy will takeour placeand none of these loved ones will want a home or afriend."

Fromthat hour Gerard was looked upon as the stay of the family. He was ason apartbut in another sense. He was always in the rightandnothing too good for him. Cornelis and Sybrandt became more and morejealous of himand longed for the day he should go to his benefice;they would get rid of the favouriteand his reverence's purse wouldbe open to them. With these views he co-operated. The wound love hadgiven him throbbed duller and duller. His success and the affectionand admiration of his parents made him think more highly of himselfand resent with more spirit Margaret's ingratitude and discourtesy.For all thatshe had power to cool him towards the rest of her sexand now for every reason he wished to be ordained priest as soon ashe could pass the intermediate orders. He knew the Vulgate alreadybetter than most of the clergyand studied the rubric and the dogmasof the Church with his friends the monks; andthe first time thebishop came that wayhe applied to be admitted "exorcist"the third step in holy orders. The bishop questioned himandordained him at once. He had to kneelandafter a short prayerthebishop delivered to him a little MS. full of exorcismsand said:"Take thisGerardand have power to lay hands on thepossessedwhether baptized or catechumens!" and he took itreverentlyand went home invested by the Church with power to castout demons.

Returninghome from the churchhe was met by little Kate on her crutches.

"OhGerard! whothink youhath sent to our house seeking you? - theburgomaster himself."

"GhysbrechtVan Swieten! What would he with me?"

"NayGerardI know not. But he seems urgent to see you. You are to go tohis house on the instant."

"Wellhe is the burgomaster: I will go; but it likes me not. KateI haveseen him cast such a look on me as no friend casts. No matter; suchlooks forewarn the wise. To be surehe knows

"KnowswhatGerard?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"KateI'll go."

 

CHAPTERV

GhysbrechtVan Swieten was an artful man. He opened on the novice with somethingquite wide of the mark he was really aiming at. "The townrecords" said he"are crabbedly writtenand the inkrusty with age." He offered Gerard the honour of transcribingthem fair.

Gerardinquired what he was to be paid.

Ghysbrechtoffered a sum that would have just purchased the pensinkandparchment.

"Butburgomastermy labour? Here is a year's work."

"Yourlabour? Call you marking parchment labour? Little sweat goes to thatI trow."

"'Tislabourand skilled labour to boot; and that is better paid in allcrafts than rude laboursweat or no sweat. Besidesthere's mytime."

"Yourtime? Whywhat is time to youat two-and-twenty?" Then fixinghis eyes keenly on Gerardto mark the effect of his wordshe said:"Sayratheryou are idle grown. You are in love. Your body iswith these chanting monksbut your heart is with Peter Brandt andhis red-haired girl."

"Iknow no Peter Brandt."

Thisdenial confirmed Ghysbrecht's suspicion that the caster-out of demonswas playing a deep game.

"Yelie!" he shouted. "Did I not find you at her elbow on theroad to Rotterdam?"

"Ah!"

"Ah!And you were seen at Sevenbergen but t'other day."

"WasI?'

"Ahand at Peter's house."

"AtSevenbergen?"

"Ayat Sevenbergen."

Nowthis was what in modern days is called a draw. It was a guessputboldly forth as factto elicit by the young man's answer whether hehad been there lately or not.

Theresult of the artifice surprised the crafty one. Gerard started up ina strange state of nervous excitement.

"Burgomaster"said hewith trembling voice"I have not been at Sevenbergenthese three yearsand I know not the name of those you saw me withnor where they dwelt; butas my time is preciousthough you valueit notgive you good day." And he darted outwith his eyessparkling.

Ghysbrechtstarted up in huge ire; but he sank into his chair again.

"Hefears me not. He knows somethingif not all."

Thenhe called hastily to his trusty servantand almost dragged him to awindow.

"Seeyou yon man?" he cried. "Haste! follow him! But let him notsee you. He is youngbut old in craft. Keep him in sight all day.Let me know whither he goesand what he does."

Itwas night when the servant returned.

"Well?well?" cried Van Swieten eagerly.

"Masterthe young man went from you to Sevenbergen."

Ghysbrechtgroaned.

"Tothe house of Peter the Magician."

 

CHAPTERVI

"Lookinto your own heart and write!" said Herr Cant; and earth'scuckoos echoed the cry. Look into the Rhine where it is deepestandthe Thames where it is thickestand paint the bottom. Lower a bucketinto a well of self-deceptionand what comes up must be immortaltruthmustn't it? Nowin the first placeno son of Adam ever readshis own heart at allexceptby the habit acquiredand the lightgainedfrom some years perusal of other hearts; and even thenwithhis acquired sagacity and reflected lighthe can but spell anddecipher his own heartnot read it fluently. Half way to SevenbergenGerard looked into his own heartand asked it why he was going toSevenbergen. His heart replied without a moment's hesitation"Weare going out of curiosity to know why she jilted usand to show herit has not broken our heartsand that we are quite content with ourhonours and our benefice in prospectuand don't want her nor ally ofher fickle sex."

Hesoon found out Peter Brandt's cottage; and there sat a girl in thedoorwayplying her needleand a stalwart figure leaned on a longbow and talked to her. Gerard felt an unaccountable pang at the sightof him. Howeverthe man turned out to be past fifty years of ageanold soldierwhom Gerard remembered to have seen shoot at the buttswith admirable force and skill. Another minute and the youth stoodbefore them. Margaret looked up and dropped her workand uttered afaint cryand was white and red by turns. But these signs of emotionwere swiftly dismissedand she turned far more chill and indifferentthan she would if she had not betrayed this agitation.

"What!is it youMaster Gerard? What on earth brings you hereI wonder?"

"Iwas passing by and saw you; so I thought I would give you good dayand ask after your father."

"Myfather is well. He will be here anon."

"ThenI may as well stay till he comes."

"Asyou will. Good Martinstep into the village and tell my father hereis a friend of his."

"Andnot of yours?"

"Myfather's friends are mine."

"Thatis doubtful. It was not like a friend to promise to wait for meandthen make off the moment my back was turned. Cruel Margaret youlittle know how I searched the town for you; how for want of younothing was pleasant to me."

"Theseare idle words; if you had desired my father's companyor mineyouwould have come back. There I had a bed laid for yousirat mycousin'sand he would have made much of youandwho knowsI mighthave made much of you too. I was in the humour that day. You will notcatch me in the same mind againneither you nor any young manIwarrant me."

"MargaretI came back the moment the Countess let me go; but you were notthere."

"Nayyou did notor you had seen Hans Cloterman at our table; we left himto bring you on."

"Isaw no one therebut only a drunken manthat had just tumbleddown."

"Atour table? How was he clad?"

"NayI took little heed: in sad-coloured garb."

Atthis Margaret's face gradually warmed; but presentlyassumingincredulity and severityshe put many shrewd questionsall of whichGerard answered most loyally. Finallythe clouds clearedand theyguessed how the misunderstanding had come about. Then came arevulsion of tendernessall the more powerful that they had doneeach other wrong; and thenmore dangerous stillcame mutualconfessions. Neither had been happy since; neither ever would havebeen happy but for this fortunate meeting.

AndGerard found a MS. Vulgate lying open on the tableand pounced uponit like a hawk. MSS. were his delight; but before he could get to ittwo white hands quickly came flat upon the pageand a red face overthem.

"Naytake away your handsMargaretthat I may see where you are readingand I will read there too at home; so shall my soul meet yours in thesacred page. You will not? Naythen I must kiss them away." Andhe kissed them so oftenthat for very shame they were fain towithdrawandlo! the sacred book lay open at

"Anapple of gold in a network of silver."

"Therenow" said she"I had been hunting for it ever so longand found it but even now - and to be caught!" and with a touchof inconsistency she pointed it out to Gerard with her white finger.

"Ay"said he"but to-day it is all hidden in that great cap."

"Itis a comely capI'm told by some."

"Maybe;but what it hides is beautiful."

"Itis not: it is hideous."

"Wellit was beautiful at Rotterdam."

"Ayeverything was beautiful that day" (with a little sigh).

Andnow Peter came inand welcomed Gerard cordiallyand would have himto stay supper. And Margaret disappeared; and Gerard had a nicelearned chat with Peter; and Margaret reappeared with her hair in hersilver netand shot a glance half archhalf coyand glided aboutthemand spread supperand beamed bright with gaiety and happiness.And in the cool evening Gerard coaxed her outand she objected andcame; and coaxed her on to the road to Tergouand she declinedandcame; and there they strolled up and downhand in hand; and when hemust gothey pledged each other never to quarrel or misunderstandone another again; and they sealed the promise with a long lovingkissand Gerard went home on wings.

Fromthat day Gerard spent most of his evenings with Margaretand theattachment deepened and deepened on both sidestill the hours theyspent together were the hours they lived; the rest they counted andunderwent. And at the outset of this deep attachment all wentsmoothly. Obstacles there werebut they seemed distant and small tothe eyes of hopeyouthand love. The feelings and passions of somany personsthat this attachment would thwartgave no warningsmoke to show their volcanic nature and power. The course of truelove ran smoothlyplacidly. until it had drawn these two younghearts into its current for ever.

Andthen -

 

CHAPTERVII

Onebright morning unwonted velvet shoneunwonted feathers wavedandhorses' hoofs glinted and ran through the streets of Tergouand thewindows and balconies were studded with wondering faces. The Frenchambassador was riding through to sport in the neighbouring forest.

Besideshis own suitehe was attended by several servants of the Duke ofBurgundylent to do him honour and minister to his pleasure. TheDuke's tumbler rode before him with a gravesedate majestythatmade his more noble companions seem lightfrivolous persons. Butever and anonwhen respect and awe neared the oppressivehe rolledoff his horse so ignobly and funnilythat even the ambassador wasfain' to burst out laughing. He also climbed up again by the tail ina way provocative of mirthand so he played his part. Towards therear of the pageant rode one that excited more attention still - theDuke's leopard. A huntsmanmounted on a Flemish horse of giantprodigious size and powercarried a long box fastened to the rider'sloins by straps curiously contrivedand on this box sat a brightleopard crouching. She was chained to the huntsman. The peopleadmired her glossy hide and spotsand pressed nearand one or twowere for feeling herand pulling her tail; then the huntsman shoutedin a terrible voice"Beware! At Antwerp one did but throw ahandful of dust at herand the Duke made dust of him."

"Gramercy!"

"Ispeak sooth. The good Duke shut him up in prisonin a cell undergroundand the rats cleaned the flesh off his bones in a night.Served him right for molesting the poor thing."

Therewas a murmur of fearand the Tergovians shrank from tickling theleopard of their sovereign.

Butan incident followed that raised their spirits again. The Duke'sgianta Hungarian seven feet four inches highbrought up the rear.This enormous creature hadlike some other giantsa trebleflutyvoice of little power. He was a vain fellowand not conscious ofthis nor any defect. Now it happened he caught sight of Giles sittingon the top of the balcony; so he stopped and began to make fun ofhim.

"Hallo!brother!" squeaked he"I had nearly passed without seeingthee."

"Youare plain enough to see" bellowed Giles in his bass tones.

"Comeon my shoulderbrother" squeaked Titanand held out ashoulder of mutton fist to help him down.

"IfI do I'll cuff your ears" roared the dwarf.

Thegiant saw the homuncule was irascibleand played upon himbeingencouraged thereto by the shouts of laughter. For he did not see thatthe people were laughing not at his witbut at the ridiculousincongruity of the two voices - the gigantic feeble fifeand thepetty deeploud drumthe mountain delivered of a squeakand themole-hill belching thunder.

Thesingular duet came to as singular an end. Giles lost all patience andself-commandand being a creature devoid of fearand in a rage toboothe actually dropped upon the giant's neckseized his hair withone handand punched his head with the other. The giant's firstimpulse was to laughbut the weight and rapidity of the blows sooncorrected that inclination.

"He!he! Ah! ha! hallo! oh! oh! Holy saints! here! help! or I mustthrottle the imp. I can't! I'll split your skull against the - "and he made a wild run backwards at the balcony. Giles saw hisdangerseized the balcony in time with both handsand whipped overit just as the giant's head came against it with a stunning crack.The people roared with laughter and exultation at the address oftheir little champion. The indignant giant seized two of thelaughersknocked them together like dumb-bellsshook them andstrewed them flat - (Catherine shrieked and threw her apron overGiles - then strode wrathfully away after the party. This incidenthad consequences no one then present foresaw. Its immediate resultswere agreeable. The Tergovians turned proud of Gilesand listenedwith more affability to his prayers for parchment. For he drove aregular trade with his brother Gerard in this article. Went about andbegged it gratisand Gerard gave him coppers for it.

Onthe afternoon of the same dayCatherine and her daughter werechatting together about their favourite themeGerardhis goodnesshis beneficeand the brightened prospects of the whole family.

Theirgood luck had come to them in the very shape they would have chosen;besides the advantages of a benefice such as the Countess Charoloiswould not disdain to givethere was the feminine delight at having apriesta holy manin their own family. "He will marry Cornelisand Sybrandt: for they can wed (good housewives)nowif they will.Gerard will take care of you and Gileswhen we are gone."

"Yesmotherand we can confess to him instead of to a stranger"said Kate.

"Aygirl! and he can give the sacred oil to your father and meand closeour eyes when our time comes."

"Ohmother! not for manymany yearsI do pray Heaven. Pray speak not ofthatit always makes me sad. I hope to go before youmother dear.No; let us be gay to-day. I am out of painmotherquite out of allpain; it does seem so strange; and I feel so bright and happythat -motherCan you keep a secret?"

"Nobodybetterchild. Whyyou know I can."

"ThenI will show you something so beautiful. You never saw the likeItrow. Only Gerard must never know; for sure he means to surprise uswith it; he covers it up soand sometimes he carries it awayaltogether."

Katetook her crutchesand moved slowly awayleaving her mother in anexalted state of curiosity. She soon returned with something in aclothuncovered itand there was a lovely picture of the Virginwith all her insigniaand wearing her tiara over a wealth ofbeautiful hairwhich flowed loose over her shoulders. Catherineatfirstwas struck with awe.

"Itis herself" she cried; "it is the Queen of Heaven. I neversaw one like her to my mind before."

"Andher eyesmother: lifted to the skyas if they belonged thereandnot to a mortal creature. And her beautiful hair of burning gold."

"Andto think I have a son that can make the saints live again upon apiece of wood!"

"Thereason ishe is a young saint himselfmother. He is too good forthis world; he is here to portray the blessedand then to go awayand be with them for ever."

Erethey had half done admiring ita strange voice was heard at thedoor. By one of the furtive instincts of their sex they hastily hidthe picture in the cloththough there was no needAnd the nextmoment in camecasting his eyes furtively arounda man that had notentered the house this ten years Ghysbrecht Van Swieten.

Thetwo women were so taken by surprisethat they merely stared at himand at one anotherand said"The burgomaster!" in a toneso expressivethat Ghysbrecht felt compelled to answer it.

"Yes!I own the last time I came here was not on a friendly errand. Menlove their own interest - Eli's and mine were contrary. Wellletthis visit atone the last. To-day I come on your business and none ofmine." Catherine and her daughter exchanged a swift glance ofcontemptuous incredulity. They knew the man better than he thought.

"Itis about your son Gerard."

"Ay!ay! you want him to work for the town all for nothing. He told us."

"Icome on no such errand. It is to let you know he has fallen into badhands."

"NowHeaven and the saints forbid! Mantorture not a mother! Speak outand quickly: speak ere you have time to coin falsehood: we knowthee."

Ghysbrechtturned pale at this affrontand spite mingled with the other motivesthat brought him here. "Thus it isthen" said hegrinding his teeth and speaking very fast. "Your son Gerard ismore like to be father of a family than a priest: he is for ever withMargaretPeter Brandt's red-haired girland loves her like a cowher calf."

Motherand daughter both burst out laughing. Ghysbrecht stared at them.

"What!you knew it?"

"Carrythis tale to those who know not my sonGerard. Women are nought tohim."

"Otherwomenmayhap. But this one is the apple of his eye to himor willbeif you part them notand soon. Comedamemake me not wastetime and friendly counsel: my servant has seen them together a scoretimeshandedand reading babies in one another's eyes like - youknowdame - you have been youngtoo."

"GirlI am ill at ease. YeaI have been youngand know how blind andfoolish the young are. My heart! he has turned me sick in a moment.Kateif it should be true?"

"Naynay!" cried Kate eagerly. "Gerard might love a young woman:all young men do: I can't find what they see in them to love so; butif he didhe would let us know; he would not deceive us. You wickedman! Nodear motherlook not so! Gerard is too good to love acreature of earth. His love is for our Lady and the saints. Ah! Iwill show you the picture there: if his heart was earthlycould hepaint the Queen of Heaven like that - look! look!" and she heldthe picture out triumphantlyandmore radiant and beautiful in thismoment of enthusiasm than ever dead picture was or will beover-powered the burgomaster with her eloquence and her feminineproof of Gerard's purity. His eyes and mouth openedand remainedopen: in which state they kept turningface and all as if on apivotfrom the picture to the womenand from the women to thepicture.

"Whyit is herself" he gasped.

"Isn'tit!" cried Kateand her hostility was softened. "Youadmire it? I forgive you for frightening us."

"AmI in a mad-house?" said Ghysbrecht Van Swieten thoroughlypuzzled. "You show me a picture of the girl; and you say hepainted it; and that is a proof he cannot love her. Whythey allpaint their sweetheartspainters do."

"Apicture of the girl?" exclaimed Kateshocked. "Fie! thisis no girl; this is our blessed Lady."

"Nono; it is Margaret Brandt."

"Ohblind! It is the Queen of Heaven."

"No;only of Sevenbergen village."

"Profaneman! behold her crown!"

"Sillychild! look at her red hair! Would the Virgin be seen in red hair?She who had the pick of all the colours ten thousand years before theworld began."

Atthis moment an anxious face was insinuated round the edge of the opendoor: it was their neighbour Peter Buyskens.

"Whatis to do?" said he in a cautious whisper. "We can hear youall across the street. What on earth is to do?"

"Ohneighbour! What is to do? Whyhere is the burgomaster blackening ourGerard."

"Stop!"cried Van Swieten. "Peter Buyskens is come in the nick of time.He knows father and daughter both. They cast their glamour on him."

"What!is she a witch too?"

"Elsethe egg takes not after the bird. Why is her father called themagician? I tell you they bewitched this very Peter here; they castunholy spells on himand cured him of the colic: nowPeterlookand tell me who is that? and you be silentwomenfor a momentifyou can; who is itPeter?"

"Wellto be sure!" said Peterin reply; and his eye seemed fascinatedby the picture.

"Whois it?" repeated Ghysbrecht impetuously.

PeterBuyskens smiled. "Whyyou know as well as I do; but what havethey put a crown on her for? I never saw her in a crownfor mypart."

"Manalive! Can't you open your great jawsand just speak a wench's nameplain out to oblige three people?"

"I'ddo a great deal more to oblige one of you than thatburgomaster. Ifit isn't as natural as life!"

"Cursethe man! he won'the won't - curse him!"

"Whywhat have I done now?"

"Ohsir!" said little Kate"for pity's sake tell us; are thesethe features of a living womanof - of - Margaret Brandt?"

"Amirror is not truermy little maid."

"Butis it shesirfor very certain?"

"Whywho else should it be?"

"Nowwhy couldn't you say so at once?" snarled Ghysbrecht.

"Idid say soas plain as I could speak" snapped Peter; and theygrowled over this small bone of contention so zealouslythat theydid not see Catherine and her daughter had thrown their aprons overtheir headsand were rocking to and fro in deep distress. The nextmoment Elias came in from the shopand stood aghast. Catherinethough her face was coveredknew his footstep.

"Thatis my poor man" she sobbed. "Tell himgood PeterBuyskensfor I have not the courage."

Eliasturned pale. The presence of the burgomaster in his houseafter somany years of coolnesscoupled with his wife's and daughter'sdistressmade him fear some heavy misfortune.

"Richart!Jacob!" he gasped.

"Nono!" said the burgomaster; "it is nearer homeand nobodyis dead or dyingold friend."

"Godbless youburgomaster! Ah! something has gone off my breast that waslike to choke me. Nowwhat is the matter?"

Ghysbrechtthen told him all that he told the womenand showed the picture inevidence.

"Isthat all?" said Eliprofoundly relieved. "What are yeroaring and bellowing for? It is vexing - it is angeringbut it isnot like deathnot even sickness. Boys will be boys. He will outgrowthat disease: 'tis but skin-deep."

Butwhen Ghysbrecht told him that Margaret was a girl of good character;that it was not to be supposed she would be so intimate if marriagehad not been spoken of between themhis brow darkened.

"Marriage!that shall never be" said he sternly. "I'll stay that; ayby forceif need be - as I would his hand lifted to cut his throat.I'd do what old John Koestein did t'other day."

"Andwhat is thatin Heaven's name?" asked the mothersuddenlyremoving her apron.

Itwas the burgomaster who replied:

"Hemade me shut young Albert Koestein up in the prison of the Stadthousetill he knocked under. It was not long: forty-eight hoursall aloneon bread and watercooled his hot stomach. 'Tell my father I am hishumble servant' says he'and let me into the sun once more - thesun is worth all the wenches in the world.'"

"Ohthe cruelty of men!" sighed Catherine.

"Asto thatthe burgomaster has no choice: it is the law. And if afather says'Burgomasterlock up my son' he must do it. A finething it would be if a father might not lock up his own son."

"Wellwell! it won't come to that with me and my son. He never disobeyed mein his life: he never shallWhere is he? It is past supper-time.Where is heKate?"

"Alas!I know notfather."

"Iknow" said Ghysbrecht; "he is at Sevenbergen. My servantmet him on the road."

Supperpassed in gloomy silence. Evening descended - no Gerard! Eighto'clock came - no Gerard! Then the father sent all to bedexceptCatherine.

"Youand I will walk abroadwifeand talk over this new care."

"Abroadmy manat this time? Whither?"

"Whyon the road to Sevenbergen."

"Ohno; no hasty wordsfather. Poor Gerard! he never vexed you before."

"Fearme not. But it must end; and I am not one that trusts to-morrow withto-day's work."

Theold pair walked hand in hand; forstrange is it may appear to someof my readersthe use of the elbow to couples walking was notdiscovered in Europe till centuries after this. They sauntered on along time in silence. The night was clear and balmy. Such nightscalm and silentrecall the past from the dead.

"Itis a many years since we walked so latemy man" said Catherinesoftly.

"Aysweetheartmore than we shall see again (is he never comingIwonder?)"

"Notsince our courting daysEli."

"No.Ayyou were a buxom lass then."

"Andyou were a comely ladas ever a girl's eye stole a look at. I dosuppose Gerard is with her nowas you used to be with me. Nature isstrongand the same in all our generations."

"NayI hope he has left her by nowconfound heror we shall be here allnight."

"Eli!"

"WellKate?"

"Ihave been happy with yousweetheartfor all our rubs - muchhappierI trowthan if I had - been - a - a - nun. You won't speakharshly to the poor child? One can be firm without being harsh."

"Surely."

"Haveyou been happy with memy poor Eli?"

"Whyyou know I have. Friends I have knownbut none like thee. Buss mewife!"

"Aheart to share joy and grief with is a great comfort to man or woman.Isn't itEli?"

"Itis somy lass.
'It doth joy double
And halveth trouble' runsthe byword. And so I have found itsweetheart. Ah! here comes theyoung fool."

Catherinetrembledand held her husband's hand tight.

Themoon was brightbut they were in the shadow of some treesand theirson did not see them. He came singing in the moonlightand his faceshining.

 

CHAPTERVIII

Whilethe burgomaster was exposing Gerard at TergouMargaret had a troubleof her own at Sevenbergen. It was a housewife's distressbut deeperthan we can well conceive. She came to Martin Wittenhaagenthe oldsoldierwith tears in her eyes.

"Martinthere's nothing in the houseand Gerard is comingand he is sothoughtless. He forgets to sup at home. When he gives over workthenhe runs to me straightpoor soul; and often he comes quite faint.And to think I have nothing to set before my servant that loves me sodear."

Martinscratched his head. "What can I do?"

"Itis Thursday; it is your day to shoot; sooth to SayI counted on youto-day."

"Nay"said the soldier"I may not shoot when the Duke or his friendsare at the chase; read else. I am no scholar." And he took outof his pouch a parchment with a grand seal. It purported to be astipend and a licence given by PhilipDuke of Burgundyto MartinWittenhaagenone of his archersin return for services in the warsand for a wound received at the Dukes side. The stipend was fourmerks yearlyto be paid by the Duke's almonerand the licence wasto shoot three arrows once a weekviz.on Thursdayand no otherdayin any of the Duke's forests in Hollandat any game but aseven-year-old buck or a doe carrying fawn; provisothat the Dukeshould not be hunting on that dayor any of his friends. In thiscase Martin was not to go and disturb the woods on peril of hissalary and his headand a fine of a penny.

Margaretsighed and was silent.

"Comecheer upmistress" said he; "for your sake I'll peril mycarcass; I have done that for many a one that was not worth yourforefinger. It is no such mighty risk either. I'll but step into theskirts of the forest here. It is odds but they drive a hare or a fawnwithin reach of my arrow."

"Wellif I let you goyou must promise me not to go farand not to beseen; far better Gerard went supperless than ill should come to youfaithful Martin."

Therequired promise givenMartin took his bow and three arrowsandstole cautiously into the wood: it was scarce a furlong distant. Thehorns were heard faintly in the distanceand all the game was afoot."Come" thought Martin"I shall soon fill the potand no one be the wiser." He took his stand behind a thick oakthat commanded a view of an open gladeand strung his bowa trulyformidable weapon. It was of English yewsix feet two inches highand thick in proportion; and Martinbroad-chestedwith arms alliron and cordand used to the bow from infancycould draw athree-foot arrow to the headandwhen it flewthe eye could scarcefollow itand the bowstring twanged as musical as a harp. This bowhad laid many a stout soldier low in the wars of the Hoecks andCabbel-jaws. In those days a battlefield was not a cloud of smoke;the combatants were fewbut the deaths many - for they saw what theywere about; and fewer bloodless arrows flew than bloodless bulletsnow. A hare came canteringthen sat sprightlyand her ears made acapital V. Martin levelled his tremendous weapon at her. The arrowflewthe string twanged; but Martin had been in a hurry to pot herand lost her by an inch: the arrow seemed to hit herbut it struckthe ground close to herand passed under her belly like a flashandhissed along the short grass and disappeared. She jumped three feetperpendicular and away at the top of her speed. "Bungler!"said Martin. A sure proof he was not an habitual bungleror he wouldhave blamed the hare. He had scarcely fitted another arrow to hisstring when a wood-pigeon settled on the very tree he stood under."Aha!" thought heyou are smallbut dainty." Thistime he took more pains; drew his arrow carefullyloosed itsmoothlyand saw itto all appearancego clean through the birdcarrying feathers skyward like dust. Instead of falling at his feetthe birdwhose breast was tornnot fairly piercedfluttered feeblyawayandby a great effortrose above the treesflew some fiftyyards and dead at last; but wherehe could not see for the thickfoliage.

"Luckis against me" said he despondingly. But he fitted anotherarrowand eyed the glade keenly. Presently he heard a bustle behindhimand turned round just in time to see a noble buck cross theopenbut too late to shoot at him. He dashed his bow down with animprecation. At that moment a long spotted animal glided swiftlyacross after the deer; its belly seemed to touch the ground as itwent. Martin took up his bow hastily: he recognized the Duke'sleopard. "The hunters will not be far from her" said he"and I must not be seen. Gerard must go supperless this night."

Heplunged into the woodfollowing the buck and leopard. for that washis way home. He had not gone far when he heard an unusual soundahead of him - leaves rustling violently and the ground trampled. Hehurried in the direction. He found the leopard on the buck's backtearing him with teeth and clawand the buck running in a circle andbounding convulsivelywith the blood pouring down his hide. ThenMartin formed a desperate resolution to have the venison forMargaret. He drew his arrow to the headand buried it in the deerwhospite of the creature on his backbounded high into the airand fell dead. The leopard went on tearing him as if nothing hadhappened.

Martinhoped that the creature would gorge itself with bloodand then lethim take the meat. He waited some minutesthen walked resolutely upand laid his hand on the buck's leg. The leopard gave a frightfulgrowl. and left off sucking blood. She saw Martin's gameand wassulky and on her guard. What was to be done? Martin had heard thatwild creatures cannot stand the human eye. Accordinglyhe stooderectand fixed his on the leopard: the leopard returned a savageglanceand never took her eye off Martin. Then Martin continuing tolook the beast downthe leopardbrutally ignorant of naturalhistoryflew at his head with a frightful yellflaming eyesandjaws and distended. He had but just time to catch her by the throatbefore her teeth could crush his face; one of her claws seized hisshoulder and rent itthe otheraimed at his cheekwould have beenmore deadly stillbut Martin was old-fashionedand wore no hatbuta scapulary of the same stuff as his jerkinand this scapulary hehad brought over his head like a hood; the brute's claw caught in theloose leather. Martin kept her teeth off his face with greatdifficultyand griped her throat fiercelyand she kept rending hisshoulder. It was like blunt reaping-hooks grinding and tearing. Thepain was fearful; butinstead of cowing the old soldierit put hisblood upand he gnashed his teeth with rage almost as fierce ashersand squeezed her neck with iron force. The two pair of eyesflared at one another - and now the man's were almost as furious asthe brute's. She found he was throttling herand made a wild attemptto free herselfin which she dragged his cowl all over his face andblinded himand tore her claw out of his shoulderflesh and all;but still he throttled her with hand and arm of iron. Presently herlong tailthat was high in the airwent down. "Aha!"cried Martinjoyfullyand gripped her like death; nexther bodylost its elasticityand he held a choked and powerless thing: hegripped it stilltill all motion ceasedthen dashed it to theearth; thenpantingremoved his cowl: the leopard lay mute at hisfeet with tongue protruding and bloody paw; and for the first timeterror fell on Martin. "I am a dead man: I have slain the Duke'sleopard." He hastily seized a few handfuls of leaves and threwthem over her; then shouldered the buckand staggered awayleavinga trail of blood all the way his own and the buck's. He burst intoPeter's house a horrible figurebleeding and bloodstainedand flungthe deer's carcass down.

"There- no questions" said he"but broil me a steak on'tfor Iam faint."

Margaretdid not see he was wounded; she thought the blood was all from thedeer.

Shebusied herself at the fireand the stout soldier stanched and boundhis own wound apart; and soon he and Gerard and Margaret were suppingroyally on broiled venison.

Theywere very merry; and Gerardwith wonderful thoughtfulnesshadbrought a flask of Schiedamand under its influence Martin revivedand told them how the venison was got; and they all made merry overthe exploit.

Theirmirth was strangely interrupted. Margaret's eye became fixed andfascinatedand her cheek pale with fear. She gaspedand could notspeakbut pointed to the window with trembling finger. Their eyesfollowed hersand there in the twilight crouched a dark form witheyes like glowworms.

Itwas the leopard.

Whilethey stood petrifiedfascinated by the eyes of green firetheresounded in the wood a single deep bay. Martin trembled at it.

"Theyhave lost herand laid muzzled bloodhounds on her scent; they willfind her hereand the venison. Good-byefriendsMartinWittenhaagen ends here."

Gerardseized his bowand put it into the soldier's hands.

"Bea man" he cried; "shoot herand fling her into the woodere they come up. Who will know?"

Morevoices of hounds broke outand nearer.

"Curseher!" cried Martin; "I spared her once; now she must dieor Ior both more likely;" and he reared his bowand drew hisarrow to the head.

"Nay!nay!" cried Margaretand seized the arrow. It broke in half:the pieces fell on each side the bow. The air at the same time filledwith the tongues of the hounds: they were hot upon the scent.

"Whathave you donewench? You have put the halter round my throat."

"No!"cried Margaret. "I have saved you: stand back from the windowboth! Your knifequick!"

Sheseized his long-pointed knifealmost tore it out of his girdleanddarted from the room. The house was now surrounded with baying dogsand shouting men.

Theglowworm eyes moved not.

 

CHAPTERIX

Margaretcut off a huge piece of venisonand ran to the window and threw itout to the green eyes of fire. They darted on to it with a savagesnarl; and there was a sound of rending and crunching: at thismomenta hound uttered a bay so near and loud it rang through thehouse; and the three at the window shrank together. Then the leopardfeared for her supperand glided swiftly and stealthily away with ittowards the woodsand the very next moment horses and men and dogscame helter-skelter past the windowand followed her full cry.Martin and his companions breathed again: the leopard was swiftandwould not be caught within a league of their house. They graspedhands. Margaret seized this opportunityand cried a little; Gerardkissed the tears away.

Totable once moreand Gerard drank to woman's wit: "'Tis strongerthan man's force" said he.

"Ay"said Margaret"when those she loves are in danger; not else."

To-nightGerard stayed with her longer than usualand went home prouder thanever of herand happy as a prince. Some little distance from homeunder the shadow of some treeshe encountered two figures: theyalmost barred his way.

Itwas his father and mother.

Outso late! what could be the cause?

Achill fell on him.

Hestopped and looked at them: they stood grim and silent. He stammeredout some words of inquiry.

"Whyask?" said the father; "you know why we are here."

"OhGerard!" said his motherwith a voice full of reproach yet ofaffection.

Gerard'sheart quaked: he was silent.

Thenhis father pitied his confusionand said to him:

"Nayyou need not to hang your head. You are not the first young fool thathas been caught by a red cheek and a pair of blue eyes."

"Naynay!" put in Catherine"it was witchcraft; Peter theMagician is well known for that."

"ComeSir Priest" resumed his father"you know you must notmeddle with women folk. But give us your promise to go no more toSevenbergenand here all ends: we won't be hard on you for onefault."

"Icannot promise thatfather."

"Notpromise ityou young hypocrite!"

"Nayfathermiscall me not: I lacked courage to tell you what I knewwould vex you; and right grateful am I to that good friendwhoeverhe bethat has let you wot. 'Tis a load off my mind. YesfatherIlove Margaret; and call me not a priestfor a priest I will neverbe. I will die sooner."

"Thatwe shall seeyoung man. Comegainsay me no more; you will learnwhat 'tis to disrespect a father."

Gerardheld his peaceand the three walked home in gloomy silencebrokenonly by a deep sigh or two from Catherine.

Fromthat hour the little house at Tergou was no longer the abode ofpeace. Gerard was taken to task next day before the whole family; andevery voice was loud against himexcept little Kate's and thedwarf'swho was apt to take his cue from her without knowing why. Asfor Cornelis and Sybrandtthey were bitterer than their father.Gerard was dismayed at finding so many enemiesand looked wistfullyinto his little sister's face: her eyes were brimming at the harshwords showered on one who but yesterday was the universal pet. Butshe gave him no encouragement: she turned her head away from him andsaid:

"Deardear Gerardpray to Heaven to cure you of this folly!"

"Whatare you against me too?" said Gerardsadly; and he rose with adeep sighand left the house and went to Sevenbergen.

Thebeginning of a quarrelwhere the parties are bound by affectionthough opposed in interest and sentimentis comparatively innocent:both are perhaps in the right at first startingand then it is thata calmjudicious friendcapable of seeing both sidesis a giftfrom Heaven. For the longer the dissension enduresthe wider anddeeper it grows by the fallibility and irascibility of human nature:these are not confined to either sideand finally the invariable endis reached - both in the wrong.

Thecombatants were unequally matched: Elias was angryCornelis andSybrandt spiteful; but Gerardhaving a larger and more cultivatedmindsaw both sides where they saw but oneand had fits ofirresolutionand was not wrothbut unhappy. He was lonelytoointhis struggle. He could open his heart to no one. Margaret was ahigh-spirited girl: he dared not tell her what he had to endure athome; she was capable of siding with his relations by resigning himthough at the cost of her own happiness. Margaret Van Eyck had been agreat comfort to him on another occasion; but now he dared not makeher his confidant. Her own history was well known. In early life shehad many offers of marriage; but refused them all for the sake ofthat artto which a wife's and mother's duties are so fatal: thusshe remained single and painted with her brothers. How could he tellher that he declined the benefice she had got himand declined itfor the sake of that which at his age she had despised and sacrificedso lightly?

Gerardat this period bade fair to succumb. But the other side had ahorrible ally in Catherinesenior. This good-hearted but uneducatedwoman could notlike her daughteract quietly and firmly: stillless could she act upon a plan. She irritated Gerard at timesand sohelped him; for anger is a great sustainer of the courage: at othersshe turned round in a moment and made onslaughts on her own forces.To take a single instance out of many: one day that they were all athomeCatherine and allCornelis said: "Our Gerard wed MargaretBrandt? Whyit is hunger marrying thirst."

"Andwhat will it be when you marry?" cried Catherine. "Gerardcan paintGerard can writebut what can you do to keep a womanyelazy loon? Nought but wait for your father's shoon. Oh we can see whyyou and Sybrandt would not have the poor boy to marry. You are afraidhe will come to us for a share of our substance. And say that hedoesand say that we give it himit isn't yourn we part fromandmayhap never will be."

Onthese occasions Gerard smiled slilyand picked up heartandtemporary confusion fell on Catherine's unfortunate allies. But atlastafter more than six months of irritationcame the climax. Thefather told the son before the whole family he had ordered theburgomaster to imprison him in the Stadthouse rather than let himmarry Margaret. Gerard turned pale with anger at thisbut by a greateffort held his peace. His father went on to say"And a priestyou shall be before the year is outnilly-willy."

"Isit so?" cried Gerard. "Thenhear meall. By God and St.Bavon I swear I will never be a priest while Margaret lives. Sinceforce is to decide itand not love and dutytry forcefather; butforce shall not serve youfor the day I see the burgomaster come formeI leave Tergou for everand Holland tooand my father's housewhere it seems I have been valued all these yearsnot for myselfbut for what is to be got out of me."

Andhe flung out of the room white with anger and desperation.

"There!"cried Catherine"that comes of driving young folks too hard.But men are crueller than tigerseven to their own flesh and blood.NowHeaven forbid he should ever leave usmarried or single."

AsGerard came out of the househis cheeks pale and his heart pantinghe met Reicht Heynes: she had a message for him: Margaret Van Eyckdesired to see him. He found the old lady seated grim as a judge. Shewasted no time in preliminariesbut inquired coldly why he had notvisited her of late: before he could answershe said in a sarcastictone"I thought we had been friendsyoung sir."

Atthis Gerard looked the picture of doubt and consternation.

"Itis because you never told her you were in love" said ReichtHeynespitying his confusion.

"Silencewench! Why should he tell us his affairs? We are not his friends: wehave not deserved his confidence."

"Alas!my second mother" said Gerard"I did not dare to tell youmy folly."

"Whatfolly? Is it folly to love?"

"Iam told so every day of my life."

"Youneed not have been afraid to tell my mistress; she is always kind totrue lovers."

"Madam- Reicht I was afraid because I was told..."

"Wellyou were told -?"

"Thatin your youth you scorned lovepreferring art."

"Ididboy; and what is the end of it? Behold me here a barren stockwhile the women of my youth have a troop of children at their sideand grandchildren at their knee I gave up the sweet joys of wifehoodand motherhood for what? For my dear brothers. They have gone andleft me long ago. For my art. It has all but left me too. I have theknowledge stillbut what avails that when the hand trembles. NoGerard; I look on you as my son. You are goodyou are handsomeyouare a painterthough not like some I have known. I will not let youthrow your youth away as I did mine: you shall marry this Margaret. Ihave inquiredand she is a good daughter. Reicht here is a gossip.She has told me all about it. But that need not hinder you to tellme."

PoorGerard was overjoyed to be permitted to praise Margaret aloudand toone who could understand what he loved in her.

Soonthere were two pair of wet eyes over his story; and when the poor boysaw thatthere ware three.

Womenare creatures brimful of courage. Theirs is not exactly the samequality as manly courage; that would never dohang it all; we shouldhave to give up trampling on them. No; it is a vicarious courage.They never take part in a bull-fight by any chance; but it isremarked that they sit at one unshaken by those tremors andapprehensions for the combatants to which the malespectator-feebla-minded wretch! -is subject. Nothing can exceed theresolution with which they have been known to send forth men tobattle: as some witty dog says
"Les femmes sont tres bravesavec le peur d'autrui."

Bythis trait Gerard now profited. Margaret and Reicht were agreed thata man should always take the bull by the horns. Gerard's only coursewas to marry Margaret Brandt off-hand; the old people would come toafter a whilethe deed once done. Whereasthe longer thismisunderstanding continued on its present footingthe worse for allpartiesespecially for Gerard.

"Seehow pale and thin they have made him amongst them."

"Indeedyou areMaster Gerard" said Reicht. "It makes a body sadto see a young man so wasted and worn. Mistresswhen I met him inthe street to-dayI had liked to have burst out crying: he was sochanged.

"AndI'll be bound the others keep their colour; ahReicht? such as itis."

"OhI see no odds in them."

"Ofcourse not. We painters are no match for boors. We are glasstheyare stone. We can't stand the worryworryworry of little minds;and it is not for the good of mankind we should be exposed to it. Itis hard enoughHeaven knowsto design and paint a masterpiecewithout having gnats and flies stinging us to death into thebargain."

Exasperatedas Gerard was by his father's threat of violencehe listened tothese friendly voices telling him the prudent course was rebellion.But though he listenedhe was not convinced.

"Ido not fear my father's violence" he said"but I do fearhis anger. When it came to the point he would not imprison me. Iwould marry Margaret to-morrow if that was my only fear. No; he woulddisown me. I should take Margaret from her fatherand give her apoor husbandwho would never thriveweighed down by his parent'scurse. Madam! I sometimes think if I could marry her secretlyandthen take her away to some country where my craft is better paid thanin this; and after a year or twowhen the storm had blown overyouknowcould come back with money in my purseand say'My dearparentswe do not seek your substancewe but ask you to love usonce more as you usedand as we have never ceased to love you' -butalas! I shall be told these are the dreams of an inexperiencedyoung man."

Theold lady's eyes sparkled.

"Itis no dreambut a piece of wonderful common-sense in a boy; itremains to be seen whether you have spirit to carry out your ownthought. There is a countryGerardwhere certain fortune awaits youat this moment. Here the arts freezebut there they flourishasthey never yet flourished in any age or land."

"Itis Italy!" cried Gerard. "It is Italy!"

"AyItaly! where painters are honoured like princesand scribes are paidthree hundred crowns for copying a single manuscript. Know you notthat his Holiness the Pope has written to every land for skilfulscribes to copy the hundreds of precious manuscripts that are pouringinto that favoured land from Constantinoplewhence learning andlearned men are driven by the barbarian Turks?"

"NayI know not that; but it has been the dream and hope of my life tovisit Italythe queen of all the arts; ohmadam! But the journeyand we are all so poor."

"Findyou the heart to goI'll find the means. I know where to lay my handon ten golden angels: they will take you to Rome: and the girl withyouif she loves you as she ought."

Theysat till midnight over this theme. Andafter that dayGerardrecovered his spiritsand seemed to carry a secret talisman againstall the gibes and the harsh words that flew about his ears at home.

Besidesthe money she procured him for the journeyMargaret Van Eyck gavehim money's worth. Said she"I will tell you secrets that Ilearned from masters that are gone from meand have left no fellowbehind. Even the Italians know them not; and what I tell you now inTergou you shall sell hear in Florence. Note my brother Jan'spictures: timewhich fades all other paintingsleaves his coloursbright as the day they left the easel. The reason ishe did nothingblindlyin a hurry. He trusted to no hireling to grind his colours;he did0it himselfor saw it done. His panel was prepared. andprepared again - I will show you how - a year before he laid hiscolour on. Most of them are quite content to have their work suckedup and lostsooner than not be in a hurry. Bad painters are alwaysin a hurry. Above allGerardI warn you use but little oilandnever boil it: boiling it melts that vegetable dross into its heartwhich it is our business to clear away; for impure oil is death tocolour. No; take your oil and pour it into a bottle with water. In aday or two the water will turn muddy: that is muck from the oil. Pourthe dirty water carefully away. and add fresh. When that is pouredawayyou will fancy the oil is clear. You mistaken. Reichtfetch methat!" Reicht brought a glass trough with a glass lid fittingtight. "When your oil has been washed in bottleput it intothis trough with waterand put the trough in the sun all day. Youwill soon see the water turbid again. But markyou must not carrythis game too faror the sun will turn your oil to varnish. When itis as clear as crystalnot too lusciousdrain carefullyand corkit up tight. Grind your own prime coloursand lay them on with thisoiland they shall live. Hubert would put sand or salt in the waterto clear the oil quicker. But Jan used to say'Water will do itbest; give water time.' Jan Van Eyck was never in a hurryand thatis why the world will not forget him in a hurry."

Thisand several other receiptsquae nunc perscribere longum estMargaret gave him with sparkling eyesand Gerard received them like'a legacy from Heavenso interesting are some things that readuninteresting. Thus provided with money and knowledgeGerard decidedto marry and fly with his wife to Italy. Nothing remained now but toinform Margaret Brandt of his resolutionand to publish the banns asquietly as possible. He went to Sevenbergen earlier than usual onboth these errands. He began with Margaret; told her of the Dame VanEyck's goodnessand the resolution he had come to at lastandinvited her co-operation.

Sherefused it plump.

"NoGerard; you and I have never spoken of your familybut when you cometo marriage - " She stoppedthen began again. "I do thinkyour father has no ill-will to me more than to another. He told PeterBuyskens as muchand Peter told me. But so long as he is bent onyour being a priest (you ought have told me this instead of I you)Icould not marry youGerarddearly as I love you."

Gerardstrove in vain to shake this resolution. He found it very easy tomake her crybut impossible to make her yield. Then Gerard wasimpatient and unjust.

"Verywell!" he cried; "then you are on their sideand you willdrive me to be a priestfor this must end one way or another. Myparents hate me in earnestbut my lover only loves me in jest."

Andwith this wildbitter speechhe flung away home againand leftMargaret weeping.

Whena man misbehavesthe effect is curious on a girl who loves himsincerely. It makes her pity him. Thisto some of us malesseemsanything but logical. The fault is in our own eye; the logic is tooswift for us. The girl argues thus:- "How unhappyhow vexedpoor *** must be; him to misbehave! Poor thing!"

Margaretwas full of this sweet womanly pitywhento her great surprisescarce an hour and a half after he left herGerard came running backto her with the fragments of a picture in his handand panting withanger and grief.

"ThereMargaret! see! see! the wretches! Look at their spite! They have cutyour portrait to pieces."

Margaretlookedandsure enoughsome malicious hand had cut her portraitinto five pieces. She was a good girlbut she was not ice; sheturned red to her very forehead.

"Whodid it?"

"NayI know not. I dared not ask; for I should hate the hand that did itaytill my dying day. My poor Margaret! The butchersthe ruffians!Six months' work cut out of my lifeand nothing to show for it now.Seethey have hacked through your very face; the sweet face thatevery one loves who knows it. oh. heartlessmerciless vipers!"

"NevermindGerard" said Margaretpanting. "Since this is howthey treat you for my sake - Ye rob him of my portraitdo ye? Wellthenhe shall have the face itselfsuch as it is."

"OhMargaret!"

"YesGerard; since they are so cruelI will be the kinder: forgive me forrefusing you. I will be your wife: to-morrowif it is yourpleasure."

Gerardkissed her hands with raptureand then her lips; and in a tumult ofjoy ran for Peter and Martin. They came and witnessed the betrothal;a solemn ceremony in those daysand indeed for more than a centurylaterthough now abolished.

 

CHAPTERX

Thebanns of marriage had to be read three timesas in our days; withthis differencethat they were commonly read on week-daysand theyoung couple easily persuaded the cure to do the three readings intwenty-four hours: he was new to the placeand their looks spokevolumes in their favour. They were cried on Monday at matins and atvespers; andto their great delight. nobody from Tergou was in thechurch. The next morning they were both therepalpitating withanxietywhento their horrora stranger stood up and forbade thebannsOn the score that the parties were not of ageand theirparents not consenting.

Outsidethe church door Margaret and Gerard held a tremblingand almostdespairing consultation; butbefore they could settle anythingtheman who had done them so ill a turn approachedand gave them tounderstand that he was very sorry to interfere: that his inclinationwas to further the happiness of the young; but that in point of facthis only means of getting a living was by forbidding banns: whatthen? "The young people give me a crown. and I undo my workhandsomely; tell the cure I was misinformedand all goes smoothly."

"Acrown! I will give you a golden angel to do this" said Gerardeagerly; the man consented as eagerlyand went with Gerard to thecureand told him he had made a ridiculous mistakewhich a sight ofthe parties had rectified. On this the cure agreed to marry the youngcouple next day at ten: and the professional obstructor of bliss wenthome with Gerard's angel. Like most of these very clever knaveshewas a fooland proceeded to drink his angel at a certain hostelry inTergou where was a green devoted to archery and the common sports ofthe day. Therebeing drunkhe bragged of his day's exploit; and whoshould be thereimbibing every wordbut a great frequenter of thespotthe ne'er-do-weel Sybrandt. Sybrandt ran home to tell hisfather; his father was not at home; he was gone to Rotterdam to buycloth of the merchants. Catching his elder brother's eyehe made hima signal to come outand told him what he had heard.

Thereare black sheep in nearly every large family; and these two wereGerard's black brothers. Idleness is vitiating: waiting for the deathof those we ought to love is vitiating; and these two one-idea'd curswere ready to tear any one to death that should interfere with thatmiserable inheritance which was their thought by day and their dreamby night. Their parents' parsimony was a virtue; it was accompaniedby industryand its motive was love of their offspring; but in theseperverse and selfish hearts that homely virtue was perverted intoavaricethan which no more fruitful source of crimes is to be foundin nature.

Theyput their heads togetherand agreed not to tell their motherwhosesentiments were so uncertainbut to go first to the burgomaster.They were cunning enough to see that he was averse to the matchthough they could not divine why.

GhysbrechtVan Swieten saw through them at once; but he took care not to letthem see through him. He heard their storyand putting onmagisterial dignity and coldnesshe said;

"Sincethe father of the family is not herehis duty falleth on mewho amthe father of the town. I know your father's mind; leave all to me;andabove alltell not a woman a word of thisleast of all thewomen that are in your own house: for chattering tongues mar wisestcounsels."

Sohe dismissed thema little superciliously: he was ashamed of hisconfederates.

Ontheir return home they found their brother Gerard seated on a lowstool at their mother's knee: she was caressing his hair with herhandspeaking very kindly to himand promising to take his partwith his father and thwart his love no more. The main cause of thischange of mind was characteristic of the woman. She it was who in amoment of female irritation had cut Margaret's picture to pieces. Shehad watched the effect with some misgivingsand had seen Gerard turnpale as deathand sit motionless like a bereaved creaturewith thepieces in his handsand his eyes fixed on them till tears came andblinded them. Then she was terrified at what she had done; and nexther heart smote her bitterly; and she wept sore apart; butbeingwhat she wasdared not own itbut said to herself"I'll notsay a wordbut I'll make it up to him." And her bowels yearnedover her sonand her feeble violence died a natural deathand shewas transferring her fatal alliance to Gerard when the two blacksheep came in. Gerard knew nothing of the immediate cause; on thecontraryinexperienced as he was in the ins and outs of femalesherkindness made him ashamed of a suspicion he had entertained that shewas the depredatorand he kissed her again and againand went tobed happy as a prince to think his mother was his mother once more atthe very crisis of his fate.

Thenext morningat ten o'clockGerard and Margaret were in the churchat Sevenbergenhe radiant with joyshe with blushes. Peter was alsothereand Martin Wittenhaagenbut no other friend. Secrecy waseverything. Margaret had declined Italy. She could not leave herfather; he was too learned and too helpless. But it was settled theyshould retire into Flanders for a few weeks until the storm should beblown over at Tergou. The cure did not keep them waiting longthoughit seemed an age. Presently he stood at the altarand called them tohim. They went hand in handthe happiest in Holland. The cure openedhis book.

Butere he uttered a single word of the sacred ritea harsh voice cried"Forbear!" And the constables of Tergou came up the aisleand seized Gerard in the name of the law. Martin's long knife flashedout directly.

"Forbearman!" cried the priest. "What! draw your weapon in achurchand ye who interrupt this holy sacramentwhat means thisimpiety?"

"Thereis no impietyfather" said the burgomaster's servantrespectfully. "This young man would marry against his father'swilland his father has prayed our burgomaster to deal with himaccording to the law. Let him deny it if he can."

"Isthis soyoung man?"

Gerardhung his head.

"Wetake him to Rotterdam to abide the sentence of the Duke."

Atthis Margaret uttered a cry of despairand the young creatureswhowere so happy a moment agofell to sobbing in one another's arms sopiteouslythat the instruments of oppression drew back a step andwere ashamed; but one of them that was good-natured stepped up underpretence of separating themand whispered to Margaret:

"Rotterdam?it is a lie. We but take him to our Stadthouse."

Theytook him away on horsebackon the road to Rotterdam; andafter adozen haltsand by sly detoursto Tergou. Just outside the townthey were met by a rude vehicle covered with canvas. Gerard was putinto thisand about five in the evening was secretly conveyed intothe prison of the Stadthouse. He was taken up several flights ofstairs and thrust into a small room lighted only by a narrow windowwith a vertical iron bar. The whole furniture was a huge oak chest.

Imprisonmentin that age was one of the highroads to death. It is horrible in itsmildest form; but in those days it implied coldunbroken solitudetorturestarvationand often poison. Gerard felt he was in thehands of an enemy.

"Ohthe look that man gave me on the road to Rotterdam. There is morehere than my father's wrath. I doubt I shall see no more the light ofday." And he kneeled down and commended his soul to God.

Presentlyhe rose and sprang at the iron bar of the windowand clutched it.This enabled him to look out by pressing his knees against the wall.It was but for a minute; but in that minute he saw a sight such asnone but a captive can appreciate.

MartinWittenhaagen's back.

Martinwas sittingquietly fishing in the brook near the Stadthouse.

Gerardsprang again at the windowand whistled. Martin instantly showedthat he was watching much harder than fishing. He turned hastilyround and saw Gerard - made him a signaland taking up his line andbowwent quickly off.

Gerardsaw by this that his friends were not idle: yet had rather Martin hadstayed. The very sight of him was a comfort. He held onlooking atthe soldier's retiring form as long as he couldthen falling backsomewhat heavily. wrenched the rusty iron barheld only by rustynailsaway from the stone-work just as Ghysbrecht Van Swieten openedthe door stealthily behind him. The burgomaster's eye fell instantlyon the ironand then glanced at the window; but he said nothing. Thewindow was a hundred feet from the ground; and if Gerard had a fancyfor jumping outwhy should he balk it? He brought a brown loaf and apitcher of waterand set them on the chest in solemn silence.Gerard's first impulse was to brain him with the iron bar and flydown the stairs; but the burgomaster seeing something wicked in hiseye. gave a little coughand three stout fellowsarmedshowedthemselves directly at the door.

"Myorders are to keep you thus until you shall bind yourself by an oathto leave Margaret Brandtand return to the Churchto which you havebelonged from your cradle."

"Deathsooner."

"Withall my heart." And the burgomaster retired.

Martinwent with all speed to Sevenbergen; there he found Margaret pale andagitatedbut full of resolution and energy. She was just finishing aletter to the Countess Charoloisappealing to her against theviolence and treachery of Ghysbrecht.

"Courage!"cried Martin on entering. "I have found him. He is in thehaunted towerright at the top of it. AyI know the place: many apoor fellow has gone up there straightand come down feet foremost."

Hethen told them how he had looked up and seen Gerard's face at awindow that was like a slit in the wall.

"OhMartin! how did he look?"

"Whatmean you? He looked like Gerard Eliassoen."

"Butwas he pale?"

"Alittle."

"Lookedhe anxious? Looked he like one doomed?"

"Naynay; as bright as a pewter pot."

"Youmock me. Stay! then that must have been at sight of you. He counts onus. Ohwhat shall we do? Martingood friendtake this at once toRotterdam."

Martinheld out his hand for the letter.

Peterhad sat silent all this timebut ponderingand yetcontrary tocustomkeenly attentive to what was going on around him.

"Putnot your trust in princes" said he.

"Alas!what else have we to trust in?"

"Knowledge."

"Well-a-dayfather!your learning will not serve us here."

"Howknow you that? Wit has been too strong for iron bars ere to-day.

"Ayfather; but nature is stronger than witand she is against us. Thinkof the height! No ladder in Holland might reach him."

"Ineed no ladder; what I need is a gold crown."

"NayI have moneyfor that matter. I have nine angels. Gerard gave themme to keep; but what do they avail? The burgomaster will not bebribed to let Gerard free."

"Whatdo they avail? Give me but one crownand the young man shall supwith us this night."

Peterspoke so eagerly and confidentlythat for a moment Margaret felthopeful; but she caught Martin's eye dwelling upon him with anexpression of benevolent contempt.

"Itpasses the powers of man's invention" said shewith a deepsigh.

"Invention!"cried the old man. "A fig for invention. What need we inventionat this time of day? Everything has been said that is to be saidanddone that ever will be done. I shall tell you how a Florentine knightwas shut up in a tower higher than Gerard's; yet did his faithfulsquire stand at the tower foot and get him outwith no other enginethan that in your handMartinand certain kickshaws I shall buy fora crown."

Martinlooked at his bowand turned it round in his handand seemed tointerrogate it. But the examination left him as incredulous asbefore.

ThenPeter told them his storyhow the faithful squire got the knight outof a high tower at Brescia. The manoeuvrelike most things that arereally scientificwas so simple. that now their wonder was they hadtaken for impossible what was not even difficult.

Theletter never went to Rotterdam. They trusted to Peter's learning andtheir own dexterity.

Itwas nine o'clock on a clear moonlight night; Gerardseniorwasstill away; the rest of his little family had been some time abed.

Afigure stood by the dwarf's bed. It was whiteand the moonlightshone on it.

Withan unearthly noisebetween a yell and a snarlthe gymnast rolledoff his bed and under it by a single unbroken movement. A soft voicefollowed him in his retreat.

"WhyGilesare you afeard of me?"

AtthisGiles's head peeped cautiously upand he saw it was only hissister Kate.

Sheput her finger to her lips. "Hush! lest the wicked Cornelis orthe wicked Sybrandt hear us." Giles's claws seized the side ofthe bedand he returned to his place by one undivided gymnastic.

Katethen revealed to Giles that she had heard Cornelis and Sybrandtmention Gerard's name; and being herself in great anxiety at his notcoming home all dayhad listened at their doorand had made afearful discovery. Gerard was in prisonin the haunted tower of theStadthouse. He was thereit seemedby their father's authority. Buthere must be some treachery; for how could their father have orderedthis cruel act? He was at Rotterdam. She ended by entreating Giles tobear her company to the foot of the haunted towerto say a word ofcomfort to poor Gerardand let him know their father was absentandwould be sure to release him on his return.

"DearGilesI would go alonebut I am afeard of the spirits that men saydo haunt the tower; but with you I shall not be afeard."

"NorI with you" said Giles. "I don't believe there are anyspirits in Tergou. I never saw one. This last was the likest one everI saw; and it was but youKateafter all."

Inless than half an hour Giles and Kate opened the housedoor cautiouslyand issued forth. She made him carry a lanternthough the night wasbright. "The lantern gives me more courage against the evilspirits" said she.

Thefirst day of imprisonment is very tryingespecially if to the horrorof captivity is added the horror of utter solitude. I observe that inour own day a great many persons commit suicide during the firsttwenty-four hours of the solitary cell. This is doubtless why ourJairi abstain so carefully from the impertinence of watching theirlittle experiment upon the human soul at that particular stage of it.

Asthe sun declinedGerard's heart too sank and sank; with the waninglight even the embers of hope went out. He was fainttoowithhunger; for he was afraid to eat the food Ghysbrecht had brought him;and hunger alone cows men. He sat upon the chesthis arms and hishead drooping before hima picture of despondency. Suddenlysomething struck the wall beyond him very sharplyand then rattledon the floor at his feet. It was an arrow; he saw the white feather.A chill ran through him - they meant then to assassinate him from theoutside. He crouched. No more missiles came. He crawled on all foursand took up the arrow; there was no head to it. He uttered a cry ofhope: had a friendly hand shot it? He took it upand felt it allover: he found a soft substance attached to it. Then one of hiseccentricities was of grand use to him. His tinder-box enabled him tostrike a light: it showed him two things that made his heart boundwith delightnone the less thrilling for being somewhat vague.Attached to the arrow was a skein of silkand on the arrow itselfwere words written.

Howhis eyes devoured themhis heart panting the while!

Wellbelovedmake fast the silk to thy knife and lower to us: but holdthine end fast: then count an hundred and draw up.

Gerardseized the oak chestand with almost superhuman energy dragged it tothe window: a moment ago he could not have moved it. Standing on thechest and looking downhe saw figures at the tower foot. They wereso indistinctthey looked like one huge form. He waved his bonnet tothem with trembling hand: then he undid the silk rapidly butcarefullyand made one end fast to his knife and lowered it till itceased to draw. Then he counted a hundred. Then pulled the silkcarefully up: it came up a little heavier. At last he came to a largeknotand by that knot a stout whipcord was attached to the silk.What could this mean? While he was puzzling himself Margaret's voicecame up to himlow but clear. "Draw upGerardtill you seeliberty." At the word Gerard drew the whipcord line upand drewand drew till he came to another knotand found a cord of somethickness take the place of the whipcord. He had no sooner begun todraw this upthan he found that he had now a heavy weight to dealwith. Then the truth suddenly flashed on himand he went to work andpulled and pulled till the perspiration rolled down him: the weightgot heavier and heavierand at last he was well-nigh exhausted:looking downhe saw in the moonlight a sight that revived him: itwas as it were a great snake coming up to him out of the deep shadowcast by the tower. He gave a shout of joyand a score more wildpullsand lo! a stout new rope touched his hand: he hauled andhauledand dragged the end into his prisonand instantly passed itthrough both handles of the chest in successionand knotted itfirmly; then sat for a moment to recover his breath and collect hiscourage. The first thing was to make sure that the chest was soundand capable of resisting his weight poised in mid-air. He jumped withall his force upon it. At the third jump the whole side burst openand out scuttled the contentsa host of parchments.

Afterthe first start and misgiving this gave himGerard comprehended thatthe chest had not burstbut opened: he had doubtless jumped uponsome secret spring. Still it shook in some degree his confidence inthe chest's powers of resistance; so he gave it an ally: he took theiron bar and fastened it with the small rope across the large ropeand across the window. He now mounted the chestand from the chestput his foot through the windowand sat half in and half outwithone hand on that part of the rope which was inside. In the silentnight he heard his own heart beat.

Thefree air breathed on his faceand gave him the courage to risk whatwe must all lose one day - for liberty. Many dangers awaited himbutthe greatest was the first getting on to the rope outside. Gerardreflected. Finallyhe put himself in the attitude of a swimmerhisbody to the waist being in the prisonhis legs outside. Then holdingthe inside rope with both handshe felt anxiously with his feet forthe outside ropeand when he had got ithe worked it in between thepalms of his feetand kept it there tight: then he uttered a shortprayerandall the calmer for itput his left hand on the sill andgradually wriggled out. Then he seized the iron barand for onefearful moment hung outside from it by his right handwhile his lefthand felt for the rope down at his knees; it was too tight againstthe wall for his fingers to get round it higher up. The moment he hadfairly grasped ithe left the barand swiftly seized the rope withthe right hand too; but in this manoeuvre his body necessarily fellabout a yard. A stifled cry came up from below. Gerard hung inmid-air. He clenched his teethand nipped the rope tight with hisfeet and gripped it with his handsand went down slowly hand belowhand. He passed by one huge rough stone after another. He saw therewas green moss on one. He looked up and he looked down. The moonshone into his prison window: it seemed very near. The flutteringfigures below seemed an awful distance. It made him dizzy to lookdown: so he fixed his eyes steadily on the wall close to himandwent slowly downdowndown.

Hepassed a rustyslimy streak on the wall: it was some ten feet long.The rope made his hands very hot. He stole another look up.

Theprison window was a good way off now.

Down- down - down - down.

Therope made his hands sore.

Helooked up. The window was so distanthe ventured now to turn hiseyes downward again; and therenot more than thirty feet below himwere Margaret and Martintheir faithful hands upstretched to catchhim should he fall. He could see their eyes and their teeth shine inthe moonlight. For their mouths were openand they were breathinghard.

"TakecareGerard ohtake care! Look not down."

"Fearme not" cried Gerard joyfullyand eyed the wallbut came downfaster.

Inanother minute his feet were at their hands. They seized him ere hetouched the groundand all three clung together in one embrace.

"Hush!away in silencedear one."

Theystole along the shadow of the wall.

Nowere they had gone many yardssuddenly a stream of light shot from anangle of the buildingand lay across their path like a barrier offireand they heard whispers and footsteps close at hand.

"Back!"hissed Martin. "Keep in the shade."

Theyhurried backpassed the dangling ropeand made for a little squareprojecting tower. They had barely rounded it when the light shottrembling past themand flickered uncertainly into the distance.

"Alantern!" groaned Martin in a whisper. "They are after us."

"Giveme my knife" whispered Gerard. "I'll never be takenalive."

"Nono!" murmured Margaret; "is there no way out where we are?"

"None!none! But I carry six lives at my shoulder;" and with the wordMartin strung his bowand fitted an arrow to the string: "inwar never wait to be struck: I will kill one or two ere they shallknow where their death comes from:" thenmotioning hiscompanions to be quiet he began to draw his bowandere the arrowwas quite drawn to the headhe glided round the corner ready toloose the string the moment the enemy should offer a mark.

Gerardand Margaret held their breath in horrible expectation: they hadnever seen a human being killed.

Andnow a wild hopebut half repressedthrilled through Gerardthatthis watchful enemy might be the burgomaster in person. The soldierhe knewwould send an arrow through a burgher or burgomasteras hewould through a boar in a wood.

Butwho may foretell the futurehowever near? The bowinstead ofremaining firmand loosing the deadly shaftwas seen to waverfirstthen shake violentlyand the stout soldier staggered back tothemhis knees knocking and his cheeks blanched with fear. He lethis arrow falland clutched Gerard's shoulder.

"Letme feel flesh and blood" he gasped. "The haunted tower!the haunted tower!"

Histerror communicated itself to Margaret and Gerard. They gasped ratherthan uttered an inquiry.

"Hush!"he cried"it will hear you. up the wall! it is going up thewall! Its head is on fire. Up the wallas mortal creatures walk upongreen sward. If you know a prayersay itfor hell is looseto-night."

"Ihave power to exorcise spirits" said Gerardtrembling. "Iwill venture forth."

"Goalone then" said Martin; "I have looked on't onceandlive.

 

CHAPTERXI

Thestrange glance of hatred the burgomaster had cast on Gerardcoupledwith his imprisonmenthad filled the young man with a persuasionthat Ghysbrecht was his enemy to the deathand he glided round theangle of the towerfully expecting to see no supernaturalappearancebut some cruel and treacherous contrivance of a bad manto do him a mischief in that prisonhis escape from which couldhardly be known.

Ashe stole fortha soft but brave hand crept into his; and Margaretwas by his sideto share this new peril.

Nosooner was the haunted tower visiblethan a sight struck their eyesthat benumbed them as they stood. More than halfway up the toweracreature with a fiery headlike an enormous glowwormwas steadilymounting the wall: the body was darkbut its outline visible throughthe glare from the headand the whole creature not much less thanfour feet long.

Atthe foot of the tower stood a thing in whitethat looked exactlylike the figure of a female. Gerard and Margaret palpitated with awe.

"Therope! the rope! It is going up the rope" gasped Gerard.

Asthey gazedthe glowworm disappeared in Gerard's late prisonbut itslight illuminated the cell inside and reddened the window. The whitefigure stood motionless below.

Suchas can retain their senses after the first prostrating effect of thesupernatural are apt to experience terror in one of its strangestformsa wild desire to fling themselves upon the terrible object. Itfascinates them as the snake the bird. The great tragedian Macreadyused to render this finely in Macbethat Banquo's second appearance.He flung himself with averted head at the horrible shadow. Thisstrange impulse now seized Margaret. She put down Gerard's handquietlyand stood bewildered; thenall in a momentwith a wildcrydarted towards the spectre. Gerardnot aware of the naturalimpulse I have spoken ofnever doubted the evil one was drawing herto her perdition. He fell on his knees.

"Exorcizovos. In nomine beatae Mariaeexorcizo vos."

Whilethe exorcist was shrieking his incantations in extremity of terrorto his infinite relief he heard the spectre utter a feeble cry offear. To find that hell had also its little weaknesses wasencouraging. He redoubled his exorcismsand presently he saw theghastly shape kneeling at Margaret's kneesand heard it prayingpiteously for mercy.

Kateand Giles soon reached the haunted tower. Judge their surprise whenthey found a new rope dangling from the prisoner's window to theground.

"Isee how it is" said the inferior intelligencetaking facts asthey came. "Our Gerard has come down this rope. He has gotclear. Up I goand see."

"NoGilesno!" said the superior intelligenceblinded byprejudice. "See you not this is glamour? This rope is a line theevil one casts out to wile thee to destruction. He knows theweaknesses of all our hearts; he has seen how fond you are of goingup things. Where should our Gerard procure a rope? how fasten it inthe sky like this? It is not in nature. Holy saints protect us thisnightfor hell is abroad."

"Stuff!"said the dwarf; "the way to hell is downand this rope leadsup. I never had the luck to go up such a long rope. It may be yearsere I fall in with such a long rope all ready for me. As well beknocked on the head at once as never know happiness."

Andhe sprung on to the rope with a cry of delight. as a cat jumps with amew on to a table where fish is. All the gymnast was on fire; and theonly concession Kate could gain from him was permission to fasten thelantern on his neck first.

"Alight scares the ill spirits" said she.

Andsowith his huge armsand his legs like feathersGiles went up therope faster than his brother came down it. The light at the nape ofhis neck made a glowworm of him. His sister watched his progresswith trembling anxiety. Suddenly a female figure started out of thesolid masonry. and came flying at her with more than mortal velocity.

Kateuttered a feeble cry. It was all she couldfor her tongue clove toher palate with terror. Then she dropped her crutchesand sank uponher kneeshiding her face and moaning:

"Takemy bodybut spare my soul!"

Margaret(panting). "Whyit is a woman!"

Kate(quivering). "Whyit is a woman!"

Margaret."How you scared me!"

Kate."I am scared enough myself. Oh! oh! oh!"

"Thisis strange! But the fiery-headed thing? Yet it was with you. and youare harmless! But why are you here at this time of night?"

"Nay.why are YOU?"

"Perhapswe are on the same errand? Ah! you are his good sisterKate!"

"Andyou are Margaret Brandt."

"Yes.

"Allthe better. You love him; you are here. Then Giles was right. He haswon free."

Gerardcame forwardand put the question at rest. But all furtherexplanation was cut short by a horrible unearthly noiselike asepulchre ventriloquizing:

"PARCHMENT!- PARCHMENT! - PARCHMENT!"

Ateach repetitionit rose in intensity. They looked up. and there wasthe dwarfwith his hands full of parchmentsand his face lightedwith fiendish joy and lurid with diabolical fire. The light being athis necka more infernal "transparency" never startledmortal eye. With the wordthe awful imp hurled parchment at theastonished heads below. Down came recordslike wounded wild-ducks;some collapsedothers flutteringand others spread out and wheelingslowly down in airy circles. They had hardly settledwhen again thesepulchral roar was heard - "Parchment -parchment!" anddown pattered and sailed another flock of documents: anotherfollowed: they whitened the grass. Finallythe fire-headed impwithhis light body and horny handsslid down the rope like a fallingstarand (business before sentiment) proposed to his rescued brotheran immediate settlement for the merchandise he had just delivered.

"Hush!"said Gerard; "you speak too loud. Gather them up. and follow usto a safer place than this."

"Willyou come home with meGerard?" said little Kate.

"Ihave no home."

"Youshall not say so. Who is more welcome than you will beafter thiscruel wrongto your father's house?

"Father!I have no father" said Gerard sternly. "He that was myfather is turned my gaoler. I have escaped from his hands; I willnever come within their reach again."

"Anenemy did thisand not our father."

Andshe told him what she had overheard Cornelis and Sybrandt say. Butthe injury was too recent to be soothed. Gerard showed a bitternessof indignation he had hitherto seemed incapable of.

"Cornelisand Sybrandt are two ill curs that have shown me their teeth andtheir heart a long while; but they could do no more. My father it isthat gave the burgomaster authority. or he durst not have laid afinger on methat am a free burgher of this town. So be itthen. Iwas his son. I am his prisoner. He has played his part. I shall playmine. Farewell the burgh where I was bornand lived honestly and wasput in prison. While there is another town left in creationI'llnever trouble you againTergou."

"Oh!Gerard! Gerard!"

Margaretwhispered her: "Do not gainsay him now. Give his choler time tocool!"

Kateturned quickly towards her. "Let me look at your face?" Theinspection was favourableit seemedfor she whispered: "It isa comely faceand no mischief-maker's."

"Fearme not" said Margaretin the same tone. "I could not behappy without your loveas well as Gerard's."

"Theseare comfortable words" sobbed Kate. Thenlooking upshe said"I little thought to like you so well. My heart is willingbutmy infirmity will not let me embrace you."

Atthis hintMargaret wound gently round Gerard's sisterand kissedher lovingly.

"Oftenhe has spoken of you to meKate; and often I longed for this."

"YoutooGerard" said Kate; "kiss me ere you go; for my heartlies heavy at parting with you this night."

Gerardkissed herand she went on her crutches home. The last thing theyheard of her was a little patient sigh. Then the tears came and stoodthick in Margaret's eyes. But Gerard was a manand noticed not hissister's sigh.

Asthey turned to go to Sevenbergenthe dwarf nudged Gerard with hisbundle of parchments and held out a concave claw.

Margaretdissuaded Gerard. "Why take what is not ours?"

"Ohspoil an enemy how you can."

"Butmay they not make this a handle for fresh violence?"

"Howcan they? Think you I shall stay in Tergou after this? Theburgomaster robbed me of my liberty; I doubt I should take his lifefor itif I could."

"Ohfie! Gerard."

"What!Is life worth more than liberty? WellI can't take his lifeso Itake the first thing that comes to hand."

Hegave Giles a few small coinswith which the urchin was gladdenedand shuffled after his sister. Margaret and Gerard were speedilyjoined by Martinand away to Sevenbergen.

 

CHAPTERXII

GhysbrechtVan Swieten kept the key of Gerard's prison in his pouch. He waitedtill ten of the clock ere he visited for he said to himself"Alittle hunger sometimes does well it breaks 'em." At ten hecrept up the stairs with a loaf and pitcherfollowed by his trustyservant well armed. Ghysbrecht listened at the door. There was nosound inside. A grim smile stole over his features. "By thistime he will be as down-hearted as Albert Koestein was" thoughthe. He opened the door.

NoGerard.

Ghysbrechtstood stupefied.

Althoughhis face was not visiblehis body seemed to lose all motion in sopeculiar a wayand then after a little he fell trembling sothatthe servant behind him saw there was something amissand crept closeto him and peeped over his shoulder. At sight of the empty cellandthe ropeand iron barhe uttered a loud exclamation of wonder; buthis surprise doubled when his masterdisregarding all elsesuddenlyflung himself on his knees before the empty chestand felt wildlyall over it with quivering handsas if unwilling to trust his eyesin a matter so important.

Theservant gazed at him in utter bewilderment.

"Whymasterwhat is the matter?"

Ghysbrecht'spale lips worked as if he was going to answer; but they uttered nosound: his hands fell by his sideand he stared into the chest.

"Whymasterwhat avails glaring into that empty box? The lad is notthere. See here! note the cunning of the young rogue; he hath takenout the barand - "

"GONE!GONE! GONE!"

"Gone!What is goneHoly saints! he is planet-struck!"

"STOPTHIEF!" shrieked Ghysbrechtand suddenly turnedon his servantand collared himand shook him with rage. "D'ye stand thereknaveand see your master robbed? Run! fly! A hundred crowns to himthat finds it me again. Nono! 'tis in vain. Oh

fool!fool! to leave that in the same room with him. But none ever foundthe secret spring before. None ever would but he. It was to be. It isto be. Lost! lost!" and his years and infirmity now gained thebetter of his short-lived frenzyand he sank on the chest muttering"Lost! lost!"

"Whatis lostmaster?" asked the servant kindly.

"Houseand lands and good name" groaned Ghysbrechtand wrung hishands feebly.

"WHAT?"cried the servant.

Thisemphatic wordand the tone of eager curiositystruck onGhysbrecht's ear and revived his natural cunning.

"Ihave lost the town records" stammered heand he looked askantat the man like a fox caught near a hen-roost.

"Ohis that all?"

"Is'tnot enough? What will the burghers say to me? What will the burghsdo?" Then he suddenly burst out again"A hundred crowns tohim who shall recover them; allmindall that were in this box. Ifone be missingI give nothing."

"'Tisa bargainmaster: the hundred crowns are in my pouch. See you notthat where Gerard Eliassoen isthere are the pieces of sheepskin yourate so high?"

"Thatis true; that is truegood Dierich: good faithful Dierich. Allmindall that were in the chest."

"MasterI will take the constables to Gerard's houseand seize him for thetheft."

"Thetheft? ay! good; very good. It is theft. I forgot that. Soas he isa thief nowwe will put him in the dungeons belowwhere the toadsare and the rats. Dierichthat man must never see daylight again.'Tis his own fault; he must be prying. Quickquick! ere he has timeto talkyou knowtime to talk."

Inless than half an hour Dierich Brower and four constables entered thehosier's houseand demanded young Gerard of the panic-strickenCatherine.

"Alas!what has he done now?" cried she; "that boy will break myheart."

"Naydamebut a trick of youth" said Dierich. "He hath butmade off with certain skins of parchmentin a frolic doubtless butthe burgomaster is answerable to the burgh for their safe keepingsohe is in care about them; as for the youthhe will doubtless be quitfor a reprimand."

Thissmooth speech completely imposed on Catherine; but her daughter wasmore suspiciousand that suspicion was strengthened by thedisproportionate anger and disappointment Dierich showed the momenthe learned Gerard was not at homehad not been at home that night.

"Comeaway then" said he roughly. "We are wasting time." Headded vehemently"I'll find him if he is above ground."

Affectionsharpens the witsand often it has made an innocent person more thana match for the wily. As Dierich was going outKate made him asignal she would speak with him privately. He bade his men go onandwaited outside the door. She joined him.

"Hush!"said she; "my mother knows not. Gerard has left Tergou."

"How?"

"Isaw him last night."

"Ay!Where?" cried Dierich eagerly.

"Atthe foot of the haunted tower."

"Howdid he get the rope?"

"Iknow not; but this I know; my brother Gerard bade me there farewelland he is many leagues from Tergou ere this. The townyou knowwasalways unworthy of himand when it imprisoned himhe vowed never toset foot in it again. Let the burgomaster be contentthen. He hasimprisoned himand he has driven him from his birthplace and fromhis native land. What need now to rob him and us of our good name?"

Thismight at another moment have struck Dierich as good sense; but he wastoo mortified at this escape of Gerard and the loss of a hundredcrowns.

"Whatneed had he to steal?" retorted he bitterly.

"Gerardstole not the trash; he but took it to spite the burgomasterwhostole his liberty; but he shall answer to the Duke for ithe shall.As for these skins of parchment you keep such a coil aboutlook inthe nearest brook or styeand 'tis odds but you find them."

"Thinkye somistress? - think ye so?" And Dierich's eyes flashed."Mayhap you know 'tis so."

"ThisI knowthat Gerard is too good to stealand too wise to loadhimself with rubbishgoing a journey."

"Giveyou good daythen" said Dierich sharply. "The sheepskinyou scornI value it more than the skin of any in Tergou."

Andhe went off hastily on a false scent.

Katereturned into the house and drew Giles aside.

"Gilesmy heart misgives me; breathe not to a soul what I say to you. I havetold Dirk Brower that Gerard is out of Hollandbut much I doubt heis not a league from Tergou."

"Whywhere is hethen?"

"Whereshould he bebut with her he loves? But if sohe must not loiter.These be deep and dark and wicked men that seek him. GilesI seethat in Dirk Brower's eye makes me tremble. Ohwhy cannot I fly toSevenbergen and bid him away? Why am I not lusty and active likeother girls? God forgive me for fretting at His will; but I neverfelt till now what it is to be lame and weak and useless. But you arestrongdear Giles" added she coaxingly; "you are verystrong."

"YesI am strong" thundered Perpusillus; thencatching sight of hermeaning"but I hate to go on foot" he added sulkily.

"Alas!alas! who will help me if you will not? Dear Gilesdo you not loveGerard?"

"YesI like him best of the lot. I'll go to Sevenbergen on Peter Buyskenshis mule. Ask you himfor he won't lend her me."

Kateremonstrated. The whole town would follow him. It would be knownwhither he was goneand Gerard be in worse danger than before.

Gilesparried this by promising to ride out of the town the opposite wayand not turn the mule's head towards Sevenbergen till he had got ridof the curious.

Katethen assented and borrowed the mule. She charged Giles with a shortbut meaning messageand made him repeat it after her over and overtill he could say it word for word.

Gilesstarted on the muleand little Kate retiredand did the last thingnow in her power for her beloved brother - prayed on her knees longand earnestly for his safety.

 

CHAPTERXIII

Gerardand Margaret went gaily to Sevenbergen in the first flush ofrecovered liberty and successful adventure. But these soon yielded tosadder thoughts. Gerard was an escaped prisonerand liable to beretaken and perhaps punished; and therefore he and Margaret wouldhave to part for a time. Moreoverhe had conceived a hatred to hisnative place. Margaret wished him to leave the country for a whilebut at the thought of his going to Italy her heart fainted. Gerardon the contrary. was reconciled to leaving Margaret only by hisdesire to visit Italyand his strong conviction that there he shouldearn money and reputationand remove every obstacle to theirmarriage. He had already told her all that the demoiselle Van Eyckhad said to him. He repeated itand reminded Margaret that the goldpieces were only given him to go to Italy with. The journey wasclearly for Gerard's interest. He was a craftsman and an artistlostin this boorish place. In Italy they would know how to value him. Onthis ground above all the unselfish girl gave her consent; but manytender tears came with itand at that Gerardyoung and loving asherselfcried bitterly with herand often they asked one anotherwhat they had donethat so many different persons should be theirenemiesand combineas it seemedto part them.

Theysat hand in hand till midnightnow deploring their hard fatenowdrawing bright and hopeful pictures of the futurein the midst ofwhich Margaret's tears would suddenly flowand then poor Gerard'seloquence would die away in a sigh.

Themorning found them resigned to partbut neither had the courage tosay when; and much I doubt whether the hour of parting ever wouldhave struck.

Butabout three in the afternoonGileswho had made a circuit of manymiles to avoid suspicionrode up to the door. They both ran out tohimeager with curiosity.

"BrotherGerard" cried hein his tremendous tones"Kate bids yourun for your life. They charge you with theft; you have given them ahandle. Think not to explain. Hope not for justice in Tergou. Theparchments you tookthey are but a blind. She hath seen your deathin the men's eyes; a price is on your head. Fly! For Margaret's sakeand all who love youloiter not life awaybut fly!"

Itwas a thunder-clapand left two white faces looking at one anotherand at the terrible messenger.

ThenGileswho had hitherto but uttered by rote what Catherine bade himput in a word of his own.

"Allthe constables were at our house after youand so was Dirk Brower.Kate is wiseGerard. Best give ear to her redeand fly!"

"OhyesGerard" cried Margaret wildly. "Fly on the instant.Ah! those parchments; my mind misgave me: why did I let you takethem?"

"Margaretthey are but a blind: Giles says so. No matter: the old caitiff shallnever see them again; I will not go till I have hidden his treasurewhere he shall never find it." Gerard thenafter thanking Gileswarmlybade him farewelland told him to go back and tell Kate hewas gone. "For I shall be gone ere you reach home" saidhe. He then shouted for Martin; and told him what had happened. andbegged him to go a little way towards Tergouand watch the road.

"Ay!"said Martin"and if I see Dirk Brower or any of his menI willshoot an arrow into the oak-tree that is in our garden; and on thatyou must run into the forest hard byand meet me at the weirdhunter's spring. Then I will guide you through the wood."

Surprisethus provided againstGerard breathed again. He went with Margaretand while she watched the oak-tree tremblinglyfearing every momentto see an arrow strike among the branchesGerard dug a deep hole tobury the parchments in.

Hethrew them inone by one. They were nearly all charters and recordsof the burgh; but one appeared to be a private deed between FlorisBrandtfather of Peterand Ghysbrecht.

"Whythis is as much yours as his" said Gerard. "I will readthis."

"Ohnot nowGerardnot now" cried Margaret. "Every momentyou lose fills me with fear; and seelarge drops of rain arebeginning to falland the clouds lower."

Gerardyielded to this remonstrance; but he put the deed into his bosomandthrew the earth in over the othersand stamped it down. While thusemployed there came a flash of lightning followed by a peal ofdistant thunderand the rain came down heavily. Margaret and Gerardran into the housewhither they were speedily followed by Martin.

"Theroad is clear" said he"and a heavy storm coming on."

Hiswords proved true. The thunder came nearer and nearer till it crashedoverhead: the flashes followed one another closelike the strokes ofa whipand the rain fell in torrents. Margaret hid her face not tosee the lightning. On thisGerard put up the rough shutter andlighted a candle. The lovers consulted togetherand Gerard blessedthe storm that gave him a few hours more with Margaret. The sun setunperceivedand still the thunder pealedand the lightning flashedand the rain poured. Supper was set; but Gerard and Margaret couldnot eat: the thought that this was the last time they should suptogether choked them. The storm lulled a little. Peter retired torest. But Gerard was to go at peep of dayand neither he norMargaret could afford to lose an hour in sleep. Martin sat a whiletoo; for he was fitting a new string to his bowa matter in which hewas very nice.

Thelovers murmured their sorrows and their love beside him.

Suddenlythe old man held up his hand to them to be silent.

Theywere quiet and listenedand heard nothing. But the next moment afootstep crackled faintly upon the autumn leaves that lay strewn inthe garden at the back door of the house. To those who had nothing tofear such a step would have said nothing; but to those who hadenemies it was terrible. For it was a foot trying to be noiseless.

Martinfitted an arrow to his string and hastily blew out the candle. Atthis momentto their horrorthey heard more than one footstepapproach the other door of the cottagenot quite so noiselessly asthe otherbut very stealthily - and then a dead pause.

Theirblood froze in their veins.

OhKateohKate! You said fly on the instant." And Margaretmoaned and wrung her hands in anguish and terror and wild remorse forhaving kept Gerard.

"Hushgirl!" said Martinin a stern whisper.

Aheavy knock fell on the door.

Andon the hearts within.

 

CHAPTERXIV

Asif this had been a concerted signalthe back door was struck asrudely the next instant. They were hemmed in. But at these alarmingsounds Margaret seemed to recover some share of self-possession. Shewhispered"Say he was herebut is gone." And with thisshe seized Gerard and almost dragged him up the rude steps that ledto her father's sleeping-room. Her own lay next beyond it.

Theblows on the door were repeated.

"Whoknocks at this hour?"

"Openand you will see!"

"Iopen not to thieves - honest men are all abed now."

"Opento the lawMartin Wittenhaagenor you shall rue it."

"Whythat is Dirk Brower's voiceI trow. What make you so far fromTergou?"

"Openand you will know."

Martindrew the bolt very slowlyand in rushed Dierich and four more. Theylet in their companion who was at the back door.

"NowMartinwhere is Gerard Eliassoen?"

"GerardEliassoen? Whyhe was here but now!"

"Washere?" Dierich's countenance fell. "And where is he now?"

"Theysay he has gone to Italy. Whywhat is to do?"

"Nomatter. When did he go? Tell me not that he went in such a storm asthis!"

"Hereis a coil about Gerard Eliassoen" said Martin contemptuously.Then he lighted the candleand seating himself coolly by the fireproceeded to whip some fine silk round his bow-string at the placewhere the nick of the arrow frets it.

"I'lltell you" said he carelessly. "Know you his brother Giles?- a little misbegotten impall head and arms? Wellhe came tearingover here on a muleand bawled out somethingI was too far off tohear the creature's wordsbut only its noise. Any wayhe startedGerard. For as soon as he was gonethere was such crying andkissingand then Gerard went away. They do tell me he has gone toItaly - mayhap you know where that isfor I don't."

Dierich'scountenance fell lower and lower at this account. There was no flawin itA cunninger man than Martin would perhaps have told a lie toomany and raised suspicion. But Martin did his task well. He only toldthe one falsehood he was bade to telland of his own head inventednothing.

"Mates"said Dierich"I doubt he speaks sooth. I told the burgomasterhow 'twould be. He met the dwarf galloping Peter Buyskens's mule fromSevenbergen. 'They have sent that imp to Gerard' says he"'sothenGerard is at Sevenbergen.' 'Ahmaster!' says I''tis too latenow. We should have thought of Sevenbergen beforeinstead of wastingour time hunting all the odd corners of Tergou for those cursedparchments that we shall never find till we find the man that took'em. If he was at Sevenbergen' quoth I'and they sent the dwarf tohimit must have been to warn him we are after him. He is leaguesaway by now' quoth I. Confound that chalk-faced girl! she hasoutwitted us bearded men; and so I told the burgomasterbut he wouldnot hear reason. A wet jerkin apiecethat is all we shall getmatesby this job."

Martingrinned coolly in Dierich's face.

"However"added the latter"to content the burgomasterwe will searchthe house."

Martinturned grave directly.

Thischange of countenance did not escape Dierich. He reflected a moment.

"Watchoutside two of youone on each side of the housethat no one jumpfrom the upper windows. The rest come with me."

Andhe took the candle and mounted the stairsfollowed by three of hiscomrades.

Martinwas left alone.

Thestout soldier hung his head. All had gone so well at first; and nowthis fatal turn! Suddenly it occurred to him that all was not yetlost. Gerard must be either in Peter's room or Margaret's; they werenot so very high from the ground. Gerard would leap out. Dierich hadleft a man below; but what then? For half a minute Gerard and hewould be two to oneand in that brief spacewhat might not be done?

Martinthen held the back door ajar and watched. The light shone in Peter'sroom. "Curse the fool!" said he"is he going to letthem take him like a girl?"

Thelight now passed into Margaret's bedroom. Still no window was opened.Had Gerard intended to escape that wayhe would not have waited tillthe men were in the room. Martin saw that at onceand left the doorand came to the foot-stair and listened.

Hebegan to think Gerard must have escaped by the window while all themen were in the house. The longer the silence continuedthe strongergrew this conviction. But it was suddenly and rudely dissipated.

Faintcries issued from the inner bedroom - Margaret's.

"Theyhave taken him" groaned Martin; "they have got him."

Itnow flashed across Martin's mind that if they took Gerard awayhislife was not worth a button; and thatif evil befell himMargaret'sheart would break. He cast his eyes wildly round like some savagebeast seeking an escapeand in a twinkling formed a resolutionterribly characteristic of those iron times and of a soldier drivento bay. He stepped to each door in turnand imitating DierichBrower's voicesaid sharply"Watch the window!" He thenquietly closed and bolted both doors. He then took up his bow and sixarrows; one he fitted to his stringthe others he put into hisquiver. His knife he placed upon a chair behind himthe hilt towardshim; and there he waited at the foot of the stair with the calmdetermination to slay those four menor be slain by them. Twoheknewhe could dispose of by his arrowsere they could get near himand Gerard and he must take their chance hand-to-hand with theremaining pair. Besideshe had seen men panic-stricken by a suddenattack of this sort. Should Brower and his men hesitate but aninstant before closing with himhe should shoot three instead oftwoand then the odds would be on the right side.

Hehad not long to wait. The heavy steps sounded in Margaret's roomandcame nearer and nearer.

Thelight also approachedand voices.

Martin'sheartstout as it wasbeat hardto hear men coming thus to theirdeathand perhaps to his; more likely so than not: for four is longodds in a battlefield of ten feet square. and Gerard might be boundperhapsand powerless to help. But this manwhom we have seen shakein his shoes at a Giles-o'-lanthornnever wavered in this awfulmoment of real dangerbut stood therehis body all braced forcombatand his eye glowingequally ready to take life and lose it.Desperate game! to win which was exile instant and for lifeand tolose it was to die that moment upon that floor he stood on.

DierichBrower and his men found Peter in his first sleep. They opened hiscupboardsthey ran their knives into an alligator he had nailed tohis wall; they looked under his bed: it was a large roomandapparently full of hiding-placesbut they found no Gerard.

Thenthey went on to Margaret's roomand the very sight of it wasdiscouraging - it was small and bareand not a cupboard in it; therewashowevera large fireplace and chimney. Dierich's eye fell onthese directly. Here they found the beauty of Sevenbergen sleeping onan old chest not a foot highand no attempt made to cover it; butthe sheets were snowy whiteand so was Margaret's own linen. Andthere she laylooking like a lily fallen into a rut.

Presentlyshe awokeand sat up in the bedlike one amazed; thenseeing themenbegan to scream faintlyand pray for mercy.

Shemade Dierich Brower ashamed of his errand.

"Hereis a to-do" said hea little confused. "We are not goingto hurt youmy pretty maid. Lie you stilland shut your eyesandthink of your wedding-nightwhile I look up this chimney to see ifMaster Gerard is there."

"Gerard!in my room?"

"Whynot? They say that you and he - "

"Cruel!you know they have driven him away from me - driven him from hisnative place. This is a blind. You are thieves; you are wicked men;you are not men of Sevenbergenor you would know Margaret Brandtbetter than to look for her lover in this room of all others in theworld. Ohbrave! Four great hulking men to comearmed to the teethto insult one poor honest girl! The women that live in your ownhouses must be naughtor you would respect them too much to insult agirl of good character."

"There!come awaybefore we hear worse" said Dierich hastily. "Heis not in the chimney. Plaster will mend what a cudgel breaks; but awoman's tongue is a double-edged daggerand a girl is a woman withher mother's milk still in her." And he beat a hasty retreat. "Itold the burgomaster how 'twould be."

 

CHAPTERXV

Whereis the woman that cannot act a part? Where is she who will not do itand do it wellto save the man she loves? Nature on these greatoccasions comes to the aid of the simplest of the sexand teachesher to throw dust in Solomon's eyes. The men had no sooner retiredthan Margaret stepped out of bedand opened the long chest on whichshe had been lying down in her skirt and petticoat and stockingsandnightdress over all; and put the lidbed-clothes and allagainstthe wall: then glided to the door and listened. The footsteps diedaway through her father's room and down the stairs.

Nowin that chest there was a peculiarity that it was almost impossiblefor a stranger to detect. A part of the boarding of the room had beenbrokenand Gerard being applied to to make it look neaterand beingshort of materialshad ingeniously sawed away a space sufficientjust to admit Margaret's soi-disant bedand with the materials thusacquired he had repaired the whole room. As for the bed or chestitreally rested on the rafters a foot below the boards. Consequently itwas full two feet deepthough it looked scarce one.

Allwas quiet. Margaret kneeled and gave thanks to Heaven. Then sheglided from the door and leaned over the chestand whisperedtenderly"Gerard!'

Gerarddid not reply.

Shethen whispered a little louder"Gerardall is safethankHeaven! You may rise; but oh! be cautious!"

Gerardmade no reply.

Shelaid her hand upon his shoulder - "Gerard!"

Noreply.

"Ohwhat is this?" she criedand her hands ran wildly over his faceand his bosom. She took him by the shoulders; she shook him; shelifted him; but he escaped from her trembling handsand fell backnot like a manbut like a body. A great dread fell on her. The lidhad been down. She had lain upon it. The men had been some time inthe room. With all the strength of frenzy she tore him out of thechest. She bore him in her arms to the window. She dashed the windowopen. The sweet air came in. She laid him in it and in the moonlight.His face was the colour of ashes; his body was all limp andmotionless. She felt his heart. Horror! it was as still as the rest!Horror of horrors! she had stifled him with her own body.

Themind cannot all at once believe so great and sudden and strange acalamity. Gerardwho had got alive into that chest scarce fiveminutes agohow could he be dead?

Shecalled him by all the endearing names that heart could think ortongue could frame. She kissed him and fondled him and coaxed him andimplored him to speak to her.

Noanswer to words of lovesuch as she had never uttered to him beforenor thought she could utter. Then the poor creaturetrembling alloverbegan to say over that ashy face little foolish things thatwere at once terrible and pitiable.

"OhGerard! I am very sorry you are dead. I am very sorry I have killedyou. Forgive me for not letting the men take you; it would have beenbetter than this. OhGerard! I am veryvery sorry for what I havedone." Then she began suddenly to rave.

"No!no! such things can't beor there is no God. It is monstrous. Howcan my Gerard be dead? How can I have killed my Gerard? I love him.OhGod! you know how I love him. He does not. I never told him. Ifhe knew my hearthe would speak to mehe would not be so deaf tohis poor Margaret. It is all a trick to make me cry out and betrayhim; but no! I love him too well for that. I'll choke first."And she seized her own throatto check her wild desire to scream inher terror and anguish.

"Ifhe would but say one word. OhGerard! don't die without a word. Havemercy on me and scold mebut speak to me: if you are angry with mescold me! curse me! I deserve it: the idiot that killed the man sheloved better than herself. Ah I am a murderess. The worst in all theworld. Help! help! I have murdered him. Ah! ah! ah! ah! ah!"

Shetore her hairand uttered shriek after shriekso wildso piercingthey fell like a knell upon the ears of Dierich Brower and his men.All started to their feet and looked at one another.

 

CHAPTERXVI

MartinWittenhaagenstanding at the foot of the stairs with his arrow drawnnearly to the head and his knife behind himwas struck withamazement to see the men come back without Gerard: he lowered his bowand looked open-mouthed at them. Theyfor their partwere equallypuzzled at the attitude they had caught him in.

"Whymateswas the old fellow making ready to shoot at us?"

"Stuff!"said Martinrecovering his stolid composure; "I was but tryingmy new string. There! I'll unstring my bowif you think that."

"Humph!"said Dierich suspiciously"there is something more in you thanI understand: put a log onand let us dry our hides a bit ere wego."

Ablazing fire was soon madeand the men gathered round itand theirclothes and long hair were soon smoking from the cheerful blaze. Thenit was that the shrieks were heard in Margaret's room. They allstarted upand one of them seized the candle and ran up the stepsthat led to the bedrooms.

Martinrose hastily tooand being confused by these sudden screamsandapprehending danger from the man's curiositytried to prevent himfrom going there.

Atthis Dierich threw his arms round him from behindand called on theothers to keep him. The man that had the candle got clear awayandall the rest fell upon Martinand after a long and fierce strugglein the course of which they were more than once all rolling on thefloorwith Martin in the middlethey succeeded in mastering the oldSamsonand binding him hand and foot with a rope they had broughtfor Gerard.

Martingroaned aloud. He saw the man had made his way to Margaret's roomduring the struggleand here was he powerless.

"Aygrind your teethyou old rogue" said Dierichpanting with thestruggle. "You shan't use them."

"Itis my beliefmatesthat our lives were scarce safe while this oldfellow's bones were free."

"Hemakes me think this Gerard is not far off" put in another.

"Nosuch luck" replied Dierich. "Hallomates. Jorian Ketel isa long time in that girl's bedroom. Best go and see after himsomeof us."

Therude laugh caused by this remark had hardly subsidedwhen hastyfootsteps were heard running along over head.

"Ohhere he comesat last. WellJorianwhat is to do now up there

 

CHAPTERXVII

JorianKetel went straight to Margaret's roomand thereto his infinitesurprisehe found the man he had been in search ofpale andmotionlesshis head in Margaret's lapand she kneeling over himmute nowand stricken to stone. Her eyes were dilated yet glazedand she neither saw the light nor heard the mannor cared foranything on earthbut the white face in her lap.

Jorianstood awe-struckthe candle shaking in his hand.

"Whywhere was hethenall the time?"

Margaretheeded him not. Jorian went to the empty chest and inspected it. Hebegan to comprehend. The girl's dumb and frozen despair moved him.

"Thisis a sorry sight" said he; "it is a black night's work:all for a few skins! Better have gone with us than so. She is pastanswering mepoor wench. Stop! let us try whether - "

Hetook down a little round mirrorno bigger than his handand put itto Gerard's mouth and nostrilsand held it there. When he withdrewitit was dull.

"THEREIS LIFE IN HIM!" said Jorian Ketel to himself.

Margaretcaught the words instantlythough only mutteredand it was if astatue should start into life and passion. She rose and flung herarms round Jorian's neck.

"Ohbless the tongue that tells me so!" and she clasped the greatrough fellow again and againeagerlyalmost fiercely.

"Therethere! let us lay him warmsaid Jorian; and in a moment he raisedGerard and laid him on the bed-clothes. Then he took out a flask hecarriedand filled his hand twice with Schiedamzeand flung itsharply each time in Gerard's face. The pungent liquor co-operatedwith his recovery - he gave a faint sigh. Ohnever was sound sojoyful to human ear! She flew towards himbut then stoppedquivering for fear she should hurt him. She had lost all confidencein herself.

"Thatis right - let him alone" said Jorian; "don't go cuddlinghim as you did meor you'll drive his breath back again. Let himalone: he is sure to come to. 'Tisn't like as if he was an old man."

Gerardsighed deeplyand a faint streak of colour stole to his lips. Jorianmade for the door. He had hardly reached itwhen he found his legsseized from behind.

Itwas Margaret! She curled round his knees like a serpentand kissedhis handand fawned on him. "You won't tell? You have saved hislife; you have not the heart to thrust him back into his gravetoundo your own good work?"

"Nono! It is not the first time I have done you two a good turn; 'twas Itold you in the church whither we had to take him. Besideswhat isDierich Brower to me? I'll see him hanged ere I'll tell him. But Iwish you'd tell me where the parchments are! There are a hundredcrowns offered for them. That would be a good windfall for my Joanand the childrenyou know."

"Ah!they shall have those hundred crowns.

"What!are the things in the house?" asked Jorian eagerly.

"No;but I know where they are; and by God and St. Bavon I swear you shallhave them to-morrow. Come to me for them when you willbut comealone."

"Iwere made else. What! share the hundred crowns with Dirk Brower? Andnow may my bones rot in my skin if I let a soul know the poor boy ishere."

Hethen ran offlest by staying longer he should excite suspicionandhave them all after him. And Margaret kneltquivering from head tofootand prayed beside Gerard and for Gerard.

"Whatis to do?" replied Jorian to Dierich Brower's query; "whywe have scared the girl out of her wits. She was in a kind of fit."

"Wehad better all go and doctor herthen."

"Ohyes! and frighten her into the churchyard. Her father is a doctorand I have roused himand set him to bring her round. Let us see thefirewill ye?"

Hisoff-hand way disarmed all suspicion. And soon after the party agreedthat the kitchen of the "Three Kings" was much warmer thanPeter's houseand they departedhaving first untied Martin.

"Takenotematethat I was rightand the burgomaster wrong" saidDierich Brower at the door; "I said we should be too late tocatch himand we were too late."

ThusGerardin one terrible nightgrazed the prison and the grave.

Andhow did he get clear at last? Not by his cunningly contrivedhiding-placenor by Margaret's ready wit; but by a good impulse inone of his captorsby the bit of humanity left in a somewhatreckless fellow's heartaided by his desire of gain. So mixed andseemingly incongruous are human motivesso shortsighted ourshrewdest counsels.

Theywhose moderate natures or gentle fates keep themin life's passagefrom the fierce extremes of joy and anguish our nature is capable ofare perhaps the bestand certainly the happiest of mankind. But tosuch readers I should try in vain to convey what bliss unspeakablesettled now upon these persecuted loversEven to those who havejoyed greatly and greatly sufferedmy feeble art can present but apale reflection of Margaret's and Gerard's ecstasy.

Tosit and see a beloved face come back from the grave to the worldtohealth and beautyby swift gradations; to see the roses return tothe loved cheeklove's glance to the loved eyeand his words to theloved mouth - this was Margaret's - a joy to balance years of sorrow.It was Gerard's to awake from a tranceand find his head pillowed onMargaret's arm; to hear the woman he adored murmur new words ofeloquent loveand shower tears and tender kisses and caresses onhim. He never knewtill this sweet momenthow ardentlyhowtenderlyshe loved him. He thanked his enemies. They wreathed theirarms sweetly round each otherand trouble and danger seemed a worldan age behind them. They called each other husband and wife. Werethey not solemnly betrothed? And had they not stood before the altartogether? Was not the blessing of Holy Church upon their union? - hercurse on all who would part them?

Butas no woman's nerves can bear with impunity so terrible a strain.presently Margaret turned faintand sank on Gerard's shouldersmiling feeblybut quitequite unstrung. Then Gerard was anxiousand would seek assistance. But she held him with a gentle graspandimplored him not to leave her for a moment.

"WhileI can lay my hand on youI feel you are safenot else. FoolishGerard! nothing ails me. I am weakdearestbut happyoh! sohappy!"

Thenit was Gerard's turn to support that dear headwith its great wavesof hair flowing loose over himand nurse herand soothe herquivering on his bosomwith soft encouraging words and murmurs ofloveand gentle caresses. Sweetest of all her charms is a woman'sweakness to a manly heart.

Poorthings! they were happy. To-morrow they must part. But that wasnothing to them now. They had seen Deathand all other troublesseemed light as air. While there is life there is hope; while thereis hope there is joy. Separation for a year or twowhat was it tothemwho were so youngand had caught a glimpse of the grave? Thefuture was brightthe present was Heaven: so passed the blissfulhours.

Alas!their innocence ran other risks besides the prison and the grave.They were in most danger from their own hearts and theirinexperiencenow that visible danger there was none.

 

CHAPTERXVIII

GhysbrechtVan Swieten could not sleep all night for anxiety. He was afraid ofthunder and lightningor he would have made one of the party thatsearched Peter's house. As soon as the storm ceased altogetherhecrept downstairssaddled his muleand rode to the "ThreeKings" at Sevenbergen. There he found his men sleepingsome onthe chairssome on the tablessome on the floor. He roused themfuriouslyand heard the story of their unsuccessful searchinterlarded with praises of their zeal.

"Fool!to let you go without me" cried the burgomaster. "My lifeon't he was there all the time. Looked ye under the girl's bed?"

"No;there was no room for a man there."

"Howknow ye thatif ye looked not?" snarled Ghysbrecht. "Yeshould have looked under her bedand in it tooand sounded all thepanels with your knives. Comenowget upand I shall show ye howto search."

DierichBrower got up and shook himself. "If you find himcall me ahorse and no man.

Ina few minutes Peter's house was again surrounded.

Thefiery old man left his mule in the hands of Jorian KetelandwithDierich Brower and the othersentered the house.

Thehouse was empty.

Nota creature to be seennot even Peter. They went upstairsand thensuddenly one of the men gave a shoutand pointed through Peter'swindowwhich was open. The others lookedand thereat some littledistancewalking quietly across the fields with Margaret and Martinwas the man they sought. Ghysbrechtwith an exulting yelldescendedthe stairs and flung himself on his mule; and he and his men set offin hot pursuit.

 

CHAPTERXIX

Gerardwarned by recent perilrose before daybreak and waked Martin. Theold soldier was astonished. He thought Gerard had escaped by thewindow last night. Being consulted as to the best way for him toleave the country and elude pursuithe said there was but one roadsafe. "I must guide you through the great forest to abridle-road I know of. This will take you speedily to a hostelrywhere they will lend you a swift horse; and then a day's gallop willtake you out of Holland. But let us start ere the folk here quittheir beds."

Peter'shouse was but a furlong and a half from the forest. They startedMartin with his bow and three arrowsfor it was Thursday; Gerardwith nothing but a stout oak staff Peter gave him for the journey.

Margaretpinned up her kirtle and farthingalefor the road was wet. Peterwent as far as his garden hedge with themand then with more emotionthan he often bestowed on passing eventsgave the young man hisblessing.

Thesun was peeping above the horizon as they crossed the stony field andmade for the wood. They had crossed about halfwhen Margaretwhokept nervously looking back every now and thenuttered a cryandfollowing her instinctbegan to run towards the woodscreaming withterror all the way.

Ghysbrechtand his men were in hot pursuit.

Resistancewould have been madness. Martin and Gerard followed Margaret'sexample. The pursuers gained slightly on them; but Martin keptshouting"Only win the wood! only win the wood!"

Theyhad too good a start for the men on footand their hearts boundedwith hope at Martin's wordsfor the great trees seemed now tostretch their branches like friendly arms towards themand theirleaves like a screen.

Butan unforeseen danger attacked them. The fiery old burgomaster flunghimself on his muleandspurring him to a gallophe headed not hisown men onlybut the fugitives. His object was to cut them off. Theold man came galloping in a semicircleand got on the edge of thewoodright in front of Gerard; the others might escape for aught hecared.

Margaretshriekedand tried to protect Gerard by clasping him; but he shookher off without ceremony.

Ghysbrechtin his ardour forgot that hunted animals turn on the hunter; and thattwo men can hateand two can long to kill the thing they hate.

Insteadof attempting to dodge himas the burgomaster made sure he wouldGerard flew right at himwith a savageexulting cryand struck athim with all his heartand soul and strength. The oak staff camedown on Ghysbrecht's face with a frightful crashand laid him underhis mule's tail beating the devil's tattoo with his heelshis facestreamingand his collar spattered with blood.

Thenext moment the three were in the wood. The yell of dismay andvengeance that burst from Ghysbrecht's men at that terrible blowwhich felled their leadertold the fugitives that it was now a racefor life or death.

"Whyrun?" cried Gerardpanting. "You have your bowand I havethis" and he shook his bloody staff.

"Boy!"roared Martin; "the GALLOWS! Follow me" and he fled intothe wood. Soon they heard a cry like a pack of hounds opening onsight of the game. The men were in the woodand saw them flittingamongst the trees. Margaret moaned and panted as she ran; and Gerardclenched his teeth and grasped his staff. The next minute they cameto a stiff hazel coppice. Martin dashed into itand shouldered theyoung wood aside as if it were standing corn.

Erethey had gone fifty yards in it they came to four blind paths.

Martintook one. "Bend low" said he. Andhalf creepingtheyglided along. Presently their path was again intersected with otherlittle tortuous paths. They took one of them. It seemed to lead back;but it soon took a turnandafter a whilebrought them to a thickpine grovewhere the walking was good and hard. There were no pathshere; and the young fir-trees were so thickyou could not see threeyards before your nose.

Whenthey had gone some way in thisMartin sat down; andhaving learnedin war to lose all impression of danger with the danger itselftooka piece of bread and a slice of ham out of his walletand beganquietly to eat his breakfast.

Theyoung ones looked at him with dismay. He replied to their looks.

"AllSevenbergen could not find you now; you will lose your purseGerardlong before you get to Italy; is that the way to carry a purse?"

Gerardlookedand there was a large triangular purseentangled by itschains to the buckle and strap of his wallet.

"Thisis none of mine" said he. "What is in itI wonder?"and he tried to detach it; but in passing through the coppice it hadbecome inextricably entangled in his strap and buckle. "It seemsloath to leave me" said Gerardand he had to cut it loose withhis knife. The purseon examinationproved to be well provided withsilver coins of all sizesbut its bloated appearance was greatlyowing to a number of pieces of brown paper folded and doubled. Alight burst on Gerard. "Whyit must be that old thief's; andsee! stuffed with paper to deceive the world!"

Thewonder was how the burgomaster's purse came on Gerard.

Theyhit at last upon the right solution. The purse must have been atGhysbrecht's saddle-bowand Gerard rushing at his enemyhadunconsciously torn it awaythus felling his enemy and robbing himwith a single gesture.

Gerardwas delighted at this featbut Margaret was uneasy.

"Throwit awayGerardor let Martin take it back. Already they call you athief. I cannot bear it."

"Throwit away! give it him back? not a stiver! This is spoil lawfully wonin battle from an enemy. Is it notMartin?"

"Whyof course. Send him back the brown paperand you will; but the purseor the coin - that were a sin."

"OhGerard!" said Margaret"you are going to a distant land.We need the goodwill of Heaven. How can we hope for that if we takewhat is not ours?"

ButGerard saw it in a different light.

"Itis Heaven that gives it me by a miracleand I shall cherish itaccordingly" said this pious youth. "Thus the favouredpeople spoiled the Egyptiansand were blessed."

"Takeyour own way" said Margaret humbly; "you are wiser than Iam. You are my husband" added shein a low murmuring voice; isit for me to gainsay you?"

Thesehumble words from Margaretwhotill that dayhad held thewhip-handrather surprised Martin for the moment. They recurred tohim some time afterwardsand then they surprised him less.

Gerardkissed her tenderly in return for her wife-like docility. and theypursued their journey hand in handMartin leading the wayinto thedepths of the huge forest. The farther they wentthe more absolutelysecure from pursuit they felt. Indeedthe townspeople never venturedso far as this into the trackless part of the forest.

Impetuousnatures repent quickly. Gerard was no sooner out of all danger thanhis conscience began to prick him.

"Martinwould I had not struck quite so hard."

"Whom?Oh! let that passhe is cheap served."

"MartinI saw his grey hairs as my stick fell on him. I doubt they will notfrom my sight this while."

Martingrunted with contempt. "Who spares a badger for his grey hairs?The greyer your enemy isthe older; and the older the craftier andthe craftier the better for a little killing."

"Killing?killingMartin? Speak not of killing!" and Gerard shook allover.

"Iam much mistook if you have not" said Martin cheerfully.

"NowHeaven forbid!"

"Theold vagabond's skull cracked like a walnut. Aha!"

"Heavenand the saints forbid it!"

"Herolled off his mule like a stone shot out of a cart. Said I tomyself'There is one wiped out'" and the iron old soldiergrinned ruthlessly.

Gerardfell on his knees and began to pray for his enemy's life.

Atthis Martin lost his patience. "Here's mummery. What! you thatset up for learningknow you not that a wise man never strikes hisenemy but to kill him? And what is all this coil about killing of oldmen? If it had been a young onenow. with the joys of life waitingfor himwinewomenand pillage! But an old fellow at the edge ofthe gravewhy not shove him in? Go he mustto-day or to-morrow; andwhat better place for greybeards? Nowif ever I should be somischancy as to last so long as Ghysbrecht didand have to go on amule's legs instead of Martin Wittenhaagen'sand a back like this(striking the wood of his bow)instead of this (striking thestring)I'll thank and bless any young fellow who will knock me onthe headas you have done that old shopkeeper; malison on hismemory.

"Ohculpa mea! culpa mea!" cried Gerardand smote upon his breast.

"Lookthere!" cried Martin to Margaret scornfully"he is apriest at heart still - and when he is not in ireSt. Paulwhat amilksop!"

"TushMartin!" cried Margaret reproachfully: then she wreathed herarms round Gerardand comforted him with the double magic of awoman's sense and a woman's voice.

"Sweetheart!"murmured she"you forget: you went not a step out of the way toharm himwho hunted you to your death. You fled from him. He it waswho spurred on you. Then did you strike; but in self-defence and asingle blowand with that which was in your hand. Malice had drawnknifeor struck again and again. How often have men been smittenwith staves not one but many blowsyet no lives lost! If then yourenemy has fallenit is through his own malicenot yoursand by thewill of God."

"BlessyouMargaret; bless you for thinking so!"

"Yes;butbeloved oneif you have had the misfortune to kill that wickedmanthe more need is there that you fly with haste from Holland. Ohlet us on."

"NayMargaret" said Gerard. "I fear not man's vengeancethanksto Martin here and this thick wood: only Him I fear whose eye piercesthe forest and reads the heart of man. If I but struck inself-defence'tis well; but if in hateHe may bid the avenger ofblood follow me to Italy - to Italy? ayto earth's remotest bounds."

"Hush!"said Martin peevishly. "I can't hear for your chat."

"Whatis it?"

"Doyou hear nothingMargaret; my ears are getting old."

Margaretlistenedand presently she heard a tuneful soundlike a singlestroke upon a deep ringing bell. She described it so to Martin.

"NayI heard it" said he.

"Andso did I" said Gerard; "it was beautiful. Ah! there it isagain. How sweetly it blends with the air. It is a long way off. Itis before usis it not?"

"Nono! the echoes of this wood confound the ear of a stranger. It comesfrom the pine grove."

"What!the one we passed?"

"WhyMartinis this anything? You look pale."

"Wonderful!"said Martinwith a sickly sneer. "He asks me is it anything?Comeonon! at any ratelet us reach a better place than this."

"Abetter place - for what?"

"Tostand at bayGerard" said Martin gravely; "and die likesoldierskilling three for one."

"What'sthat sound?"

"ITIS THE AVENGER OF BLOOD."

"OhMartinsave him! OhHeaven be merciful What new mysterious peril isthis?"

"GIRLIT'S A BLOODHOUND."

 

CHAPTERXX

Thecouragelike the talentof common menruns in a narrow groove.Take them but an inch out of thatand they are done. Martin'scourage was perfect as far as it went. He had met and baffled manydangers in the course of his rude lifeand these familiar dangers hecould face with Spartan fortitudealmost with indifference; but hehad never been hunted by a bloodhoundnor had he ever seen thatbrute's unerring instinct baffled by human cunning. Here then a senseof the supernatural combined with novelty to ungenteel his heart.After going a few stepshe leaned on his bowand energy and hopeoozed out of him. Gerardto whom the danger appeared slight inproportion as it was distanturged him to flight.

"Whatavails it?" said Martin sadly; "if we get clear of the woodwe shall die cheap; herehard byI know a place where we may diedear."

"Alas!good Martin" cried Gerard"despair not so quickly; theremust be some way to escape."

"OhMartin!" cried Margaret"what if we were to part company?Gerard's life alone is forfeit. Is there no way to draw the pursuiton us twain and let him go safe?"

"Girlyou know not the bloodhound's nature. He is not on this man's trackor that; he is on the track of blood. My life on't they have takenhim to where Ghysbrecht felland from the dead man's blood to theman that shed it that cursed hound will lead themthough Gerardshould run through an army or swim the Meuse." And again heleaned upon his bowand his head sank.

Thehound's mellow voice rang through the wood.
A cry moretunable
Was never halloed tonor cheered with horn
In Cretein Spartaor in Thessaly.

Strangethat things beautiful should be terrible and deadly' The eye of theboa-constrictorwhile fascinating its preyis lovely. No royalcrown holds such a jewel; it is a ruby with the emerald's green lightplaying ever upon it. Yet the deer that sees it loses all power ofmotionand tremblesand awaits his death and even soto comparehearing with sightthis sweet and mellow sound seemed to fascinateMartin Wittenhaagen. He stood uncertainbewilderedand unnerved.Gerard was little better now. Martin's last words had daunted himHehad struck an old man and shed his bloodandby means of that verybloodblood's four-footed avenger was on his track. Was not thefinger of Heaven in this?

Whilstthe men were thus benumbedthe woman's brain was all activity. Theman she loved was in danger.

"Lendme your knife" said she to Martin. He gave it her.

"But'twill be little use in your hands" said he.

ThenMargaret did a sly thing. She stepped behind Gerardand furtivelydrew the knife across her armand made it bleed freely; thenstoopingsmeared her hose and shoes; and still as the blood trickledshe smeared them; but so adroitly that neither Gerard nor Martin saw.Then she seized the soldier's arm.

"Comebe a man!" she said"and let this end. Take us to somethick placewhere numbers will not avail our foes."

"Iam going" said Martin sulkily. "Hurry avails not; wecannot shun the houndand the place is hard by;" then turningto the lefthe led the wayas men go to execution.

Hesoon brought them to a thick hazel coppicelike the one that hadfavoured their escape in the morning.

"There"said he"this is but a furlong broadbut it will serve ourturn."

"Whatare we to do?"

"Getthrough thisand wait on the other side; then as they comestraggling throughshoot threeknock two on the headand the restwill kill us."

"Isthat all you can think of?" said Gerard.

"Thatis all."

"ThenMartin WittenhaagenI take the leadfor you have lost your head.Comecan you obey so young a man as I am?"

"OhyesMartin" cried Margaret"do not gainsay Gerard! He iswiser than his years."

Martinyielded a sullen assent.

"Dothen as you see me do" said Gerard; and drawing his huge knifehe cut at every step a hazel shoot or two close by the groundandturning round twisted them breast-high behind him among the standingshoots. Martin did the samebut with a dogged hopeless air. Whenthey had thus painfully travelled through the greater part of thecoppicethe bloodhound's deep bay came nearer and nearerless andless musicallouder and sterner.

Margarettrembled.

Martinwent down on his stomach and listened.

"Ihear a horse's feet."

"No"said Gerard; "I doubt it is a mule's. That cursed Ghysbrecht isstill alive: none other would follow me up so bitterly."

"Neverstrike your enemy but to slay him" said Martin gloomily.

"I'llhit harder this timeif Heaven gives me the chance" saidGerard.

Atlast they worked through the coppiceand there was an open wood. Thetrees were largebut far apartand no escape possible that way.

Andnow with the hound's bay mingled a score of voices hooping andhallooing.

"Thewhole village is out after us" said Martin.

"Icare not" said Gerard. "ListenMartin. I have made thetrack smooth to the dogbut rough to the menthat we may deal withthem apart. Thus the hound will gain on the menand as soon as hecomes out of the coppice we must kill him"

"Thehound? There are more than one."

"Ihear but one."

"Ay!but one speaksthe others run mute; but let the leading hound losethe scentthen another shall give tongue. There will be two dogsatleastor devils in dog's hides."

"Thenwe must kill two instead of one. The moment they are deadinto thecoppice againand go right back."

"Thatis a good thoughtGerard" said Martinplucking up heart.

"Hush!the men are in the wood."

Gerardnow gave his orders in a whisper.

"Standyou with your bow by the side of the coppice - therein the ditch. Iwill go but a few yards to yon oak-treeand hide behind it; the dogswill follow meandas they come outshoot as many as you cantherest will I brain as they come round the tree."

Martin'seye flashed. They took up their places.

Thehooping and hallooing came closer and closerand soon even therustling of the young wood was heardand every now and then theunerring bloodhound gave a single bay.

Itwas terrible! the branches rustling nearer and nearerand theinevitable struggle for life and death coming on minute by minuteand that death-knell leading it. A trembling hand was laid onGerard's shoulder. It made him start violentlystrung up as he was.

"Martinsays if we are forced to part companymake for that high ash-tree wecame in by."

"Yes!yes! yes! but go back for Heaven's sake! don't come hereall out inthe open!"

Sheran back towards Martin; butere she could get to himsuddenly ahuge dog burst out of the coppiceand stood erect a moment. Margaretcowered with fearbut he never noticed her. Scent was to him whatsight is to us. He lowered his nose an instantand the next momentwith an awful yellsprang straight at Gerard's tree and rolledhead-over-heels dead as a stoneliterally spitted with an arrow fromthe bow that twanged beside the coppice in Martin's hand. That samemoment out came another hound and smelt his dead comrade. Geraldrushed out at him; but ere he could use his cudgela streak of whitelightning seemed to strike the houndand he grovelled in the dustwounded desperatelybut not killedand howling piteously.

Gerardhad not time to despatch him: the coppice rustled too near: it seemedalive. Pointing wildly to Martin to go backGerard ran a few yardsto the rightthen crept cautiously into the thick coppice just asthree men burst out. These had headed their comrades considerably:the rest were following at various distances. Gerard crawled backalmost on all-fours. Instinct taught Martin and Margaret to do thesame upon their line of retreat. Thuswithin the distance of a fewyardsthe pursuers and pursued were passing one another uponopposite tracks.

Aloud cry announced the discovery of the dead and the wounded hound.Then followed a babble of voicesstill swelling as fresh pursuersreached the spot. The huntersas usual on a surprisewere wastingtimeand the hunted ones were making the most of it.

"Ihear no more hounds" whispered Martin to Margaretand he washimself again.

Itwas Margaret's turn to tremble and despair.

"Ohwhy did we part with Gerard? They will kill my Gerardand I not nearhim."

"Naynay! the head to catch him is not on their shoulders. You bade himmeet us at the ash-tree?"

"Andso I did. Bless youMartinfor thinking of that. To the ash-tree!"

"Ay!but with less noise."

Theywere now nearly at the edge of the coppicewhen suddenly they heardhooping and hallooing behind them. The men had satisfied themselvesthe fugitives were in the coppiceand were beating back.

"Nomatter" whispered Martin to his trembling companion. "Weshall have time to win clear and slip back out of sight by hardrunning. Ah!"

Hestooped suddenly; for just as he was going to burst out of thebrushwoodhis eye caught a figure keeping sentinel. It wasGhysbrecht Van Swieten seated on his mule; a bloody bandage wasacross his nosethe bridge of which was broken; but over this hiseyes peered keenlyand it was plain by their expression he had heardthe fugitives rustleand was looking out for them. Martin muttered aterrible oathand cautiously strung his bowthen with equal cautionfitted his last arrow to the string. Margaret put her hands to herfacebut said nothing. She saw this man must die or Gerard. Afterthe first impulse she peered through her fingersher heart pantingto her throat.

Thebow was raisedand the deadly arrow steadily drawn to its headwhenat that moment an active figure leaped on Ghysbrecht from behind soswiftlyit was like a hawk swooping on a pigeon. A kerchief wentover the burgomasterin a turn of the hand his head was muffled initand he was whirled from his seat and fell heavily upon thegroundwhere he lay groaning with terror; and Gerard jumped downafter him.

"HistMartin! Martin!"

Martinand Margaret came outthe former openmouthed crying"Now fly!fly! while they are all in the thicket; we are saved."

Atthis crisiswhen safety seemed at handas fate would have itMargaretwho had borne up so bravely till nowbegan to succumbpartly from loss of blood.

"Ohmy belovedfly!" she gasped. "Leave mefor I am faint."

"No!no!" cried Gerard. "Death togetheror safety. Ah! themule! mount heryouand I'll run by your side."

Ina moment Martin was on Ghysbrecht's muleand Gerard raised thefainting girl in his arms and placed her on the saddleand relievedMartin of his bow.

"Help!treason! murder! murder!" shrieked Ghysbrechtsuddenly risingon his hams.

"Silencecur" roared Gerardand trode him down again by the throat asmen crush an adder.

"Nowhave you got her firm? Then fly! for our lives! for our lives!"

Buteven as the muleurged suddenly by Martin's heelscattered theflints with his hind hoofs ere he got into a canterand even asGerard withdrew his foot from Ghysbrecht's throat to runDierichBrower and his five menwho had come back for ordersand heard theburgomaster's criesburst roaring out of the coppice on them.

 

CHAPTERXXI

Speechis the familiar vent of human thoughts; but there are emotions sosimple and overpoweringthat they rush out not in wordsbuteloquent sounds. At such moments man seems to lose hischaracteristicsand to be merely one of the higher animals; forthesewhen greatly agitatedejaculatethough they cannot speak.

Therewas something terrible and truly animalboth in the roar of triumphwith which the pursuers burst out of the thicket on our fugitivesand the sharp cry of terror with which these latter darted away. Thepursuers hands clutched the empty airscarce two feet behind themas they fled for life. Confused for a momentlike lions that misstheir springDierich and his men let Gerard and the mule put tenyards between them. Then they flew after with uplifted weapons. Theywere sure of catching them; for this was not the first time theparties had measured speed. In the open ground they had gainedvisibly on the three this morningand nowat lastit was a fairrace againto be settled by speed alone. A hundred yards werecovered in no time. Yet still there remained these ten yards betweenthe pursuers and the pursued.

Thisincrease of speed since the morning puzzled Dierich Brower. Thereason was this. When three run in company. the pace is that of theslowest of the three. From Peter's house to the edge of the forestGerard ran Margaret's pace; but now he ran his own; for the mule wasfleetand could have left them all far behind. Moreoveryouth andchaste living began to tell. Daylight grew imperceptibly between thehunted ones and the hunters. Then Dierich made a desperate effortand gained two yards; but in a few seconds Gerard had stolen themquietly back. The pursuers began to curse.

Martinheardand his face lighted up. "CourageGerard! couragebravelad! they are straggling."

Itwas so. Dierich was now headed by one of his menand another droppedinto the rear altogether.

Theycame to a rising groundnot sharpbut long; and here youthandgritand sober living told more than ever.

Erehe reached the topDierich's forty years weighed him down like fortybullets. "Our cake is dough" he gasped. "Take himdeadif you can't alive;" and he left runningand followed ata foot's pace. Jorian Ketel tailed off next; and then anotherandsoone by oneGerard ran them all to a standstillexcept one whokept on stanch as a bloodhoundthough losing ground every minute.His nameif I am not mistakenwas Eric Wouverman. Followed by himthey came to a rise in the woodshorterbut much steeper than thelast.

"Handon mane!" cried Martin.

Gerardobeyedand the mule helped him up the hill faster even than he wasrunning before.

Atthe sight of this manoeuvreDierich's man lost heartandbeing nowfull eighty yards behind Gerardand rather more than that in advanceof his nearest comradehe pulled up shortandin obedience toDierich's ordertook down his crossbowlevelled it deliberatelyand just as the trio were sinking out of sight over the crest of thehillsent the bolt whizzing among them.

Therewas a cry of dismay; andnext momentas if a thunder-bolt hadfallen on themthey were all lying on the groundmule and all.

 

CHAPTERXXII

Theeffect was so sudden and magicalthat the shooter himself wasstupefied for an instant. Then he hailed his companions to join himin effecting the captureand himself set off up the hill; buterehe had got half wayup rose the figure of Martin Wittenhaagen with abent bow in his hand. Eric Wouverman no sooner saw him in thisattitudethan he darted behind a treeand made himself as small aspossible. Martin's skill with that weapon was well knownand theslain dog was a keen reminder of it.

Wouvermanpeered round the bark cautiously: there was the arrow's point stillaimed at him. He saw it shine. He dared not move from his shelter.

Whenhe had been at peep-ho some minuteshis companions came up in greatforce.

Thenwith a scornful laughMartin vanishedand presently was heard toride off on the mule.

Allthe men ran up together. The high ground commanded a view of a narrowbut almost interminable glade.

Theysaw Gerard and Margaret running along at a prodigious distance; theylooked like gnats; and Martin galloping after them ventre a terre.

Thehunters were outwitted as well as outrun. A few words will explainMartin's conduct. We arrive at causes by noting coincidences; yetnow and thencoincidences are deceitful. As we have all seen a haretumble over a briar just as the gun went offand so raiseexpectationsthen dash them to earth by scudding away untouchedsothe burgomaster's mule put her foot in a rabbit-hole at or about thetime the crossbow bolt whizzed innocuous over her head: she fell andthrew both her riders. Gerard caught Margaretbut was carried downby her weight and impetus; andbeholdthe soil was strewed withdramatis personae.

Thedocile mule was up again directlyand stood trembling. Martin wasnextand looking round saw there was but one in pursuit; on this hemade the young lovers fly on footwhile he checked the enemy as Ihave recorded.

Henow galloped after his companionsand when after a long race hecaught themhe instantly put Gerard and Margaret on the muleandran by their side till his breath failedthen took his turn to rideand so in rotation. Thus the runner was always freshand long erethey relaxed their speed all sound and trace of them was hopelesslylost to Dierich and his men. These latter went crestfallen back tolook after their chief and their winged bloodhound.

 

CHAPTERXXIII

Lifeand libertywhile safeare little thought of: for why? they arematters of course. Endangeredthey are rated at their real value. Inthistoothey are like sunshinewhose beauty men notice not atnoon when it is greatestbut towards eveningwhen it lies in flakesof topaz under shady elms. Yet it is feebler then; but gloom liesbeside itand contrast reveals its fire. Thus Gerard and Margaretthough they started at every leaf that rustled louder than itsfellowsglowed all over with joy and thankfulness as they glidedamong the friendly trees in safety and deep tranquil silencebayingdogs and brutal voices yet ringing in their mind's ears.

Butpresently Gerard found stains of blood on Margaret's ankles.

"Martin!Martin! help! they have wounded her: the crossbow!"

"Nono!" said Margaretsmiling to reassure him; "I am notwoundednor hurt at all."

"Butwhat is itthenin Heaven's name?" cried Gerardin greatagitation.

"Scoldme notthen!" and Margaret blushed.

"DidI ever scold you?"

"Nodear Gerard. WellthenMartin said it was blood those cruel dogsfollowed; so I thought if I could but have a little blood on myshoonthe dogs would follow me insteadand let my Gerard wend free.So I scratched my arm with Martin's knife - forgive me! Whose elsecould I take? YoursGerard? Ahno. You forgive me?" said shebeseechinglyand lovingly and fawninglyall in one.

"Letme see this scratch first" said Gerardchoking with emotion."ThereI thought so. A scratch? I call it a cut - a deepterriblecruel cut.'

Gerardshuddered at sight of it.

"Shemight have done it with her bodkin" said the soldier. "Milksop!that sickens at sight of a scratch and a little blood."

"Nono. I could look on a sea of bloodbut not on hers. OhMargaret!how could you be so cruel?"

Margaretsmiled with love ineffable. "Foolish Gerard" murmured she"to make so much of nothing." And she flung the guilty armround his neck. "As if I would not give all the blood in myheart for youlet alone a few drops from my arm." And withthisunder the sense of his recent dangershe wept on his neck forpity and love; and he wept with her.

"AndI must part from her" he sobbed; "we two that love so dear-one must be in Hollandone in Italy. Ah me! ah me! ah me!"

Atthis Margaret wept afreshbut patiently and silently. Instinct isnever off its guardand with her unselfishness was an instinct. Toutter her present thoughts would be to add to Gerard's misery atpartingso she wept in silence.

Suddenlythey emerged upon a beaten pathand Martin stopped.

"Thisis the bridle-road I spoke of" said he hanging his head; "andthere away lies the hostelry."

Margaretand Gerard cast a scared look at one another.

"Comea step with meMartin" whispered Gerard. When he had drawn himasidehe said to him in a broken voice"Good Martinwatchover her for me! She is my wife; yet I leave her. See Martin! here isgold - it was for my journey; it is no use my asking her to take it -she would not; but you will for herwill you not? OhHeaven! and isthis all I can do for her? Money? But poverty is a curse. You willnot let her want for anythingdear Martin? The burgomaster's silveris enough for me."

"Thouart a good ladGerard. Neither want nor harm shall come to her. Icare more for her little finger than for all the world; and were shenought to meeven for thy sake would I be a father to her. Go with astout heartand God be with thee going and coming." And therough soldier wrung Gerard's handand turned his head awaywithunwonted feeling.

Aftera moment's silence he was for going back to Margaretbut Gerardstopped him. "Nogood Martin; pritheestay here behind thisthicketand turn your head away from uswhile I-ohMartin!Martin!"

Bythis means Gerard escaped a witness of his anguish at leaving her helovedand Martin escaped a piteous sight. He did not see the pooryoung things kneel and renew before Heaven those holy vows cruel menhad interrupted. He did not see them cling together like oneandthen try to partand failand return to one anotherand clingagainlike drowningdespairing creatures. But he heard Gerard soband soband Margaret moan.

Atlast there was a hoarse cryand feet pattered on the hard road.

Hestarted upand there was Gerard running wildlywith both handsclasped above his headin prayerand Margaret tottering backtowards him with palms extended piteouslyas if for helpand ashycheek and eyes fixed on vacancy.

Hecaught her in his armsand spoke words of comfort to her; but hermind could not take them in; only at the sound of his voice shemoaned and held him tightand trembled violently.

Hegot her on the muleand put his arm around herand sosupportingher framewhichfrom being strong like a boyhad now turned allrelaxed and powerlesshe took her slowly and sadly home.

Shedid not shed one tearnor speak one word.

Atthe edge of the wood he took her off the muleand bade her go acrossto her father's house. She did as she was bid.

Martinto Rotterdam. Sevenbergen was too hot for him.

Gerardsevered from her he lovedwent like one in a dream. He hired a horseand a guide at the little hostelryand rode swiftly towards theGerman frontier. But all was mechanical; his senses felt blunted;trees and houses and men moved by him like objects seen through aveil. His companions spoke to him twicebut he did not answer. Onlyonce he cried out savagely"Shall we never be out of thishateful country?"

Aftermany hours' riding they came to the brow of a steep hill; a smallbrook ran at the bottom.

"Halt!"cried the guideand pointed across the valley. "Here isGermany."

"Where?"

"Ont'other side of the bourn. No need to ride down the hillI trow."

Gerarddismounted without a wordand took the burgomaster's purse from hisgirdle: while he opened it"You will soon be out of thishateful country" said his guidehalf sulkily; "mayhap theone you are going to will like you no better; any waythough it be achurch you have robbedthey cannot take youonce across thatbourn."

Thesewords at another time would have earned the speaker an admonition ora cuff. They fell on Gerard now like idle air. He paid the lad insilenceand descended the hill alone. The brook was silvery; it ranmurmuring over little pebblesthat glitteredvarnished by the clearwater; he sat down and looked stupidly at them. Then he drank of thebrook; then he laved his hot feet and hands in it; it was very cold:it waked him. He roseand taking a runleaped across it intoGermany. Even as he touched the strange land he turned suddenly andlooked back. "Farewellungrateful country!" he cried. "Butfor her it would cost me nought to leave you for everand all mykith and kinand - the mother that bore meand - my playmatesandmy little native town. Farewellfatherland - welcome the wide world!omne so-lum for-ti p p-at-r-a." And with these brave words inhis mouth he drooped suddenly with arms and legs all weakand satdown and sobbed bitterly upon the foreign soil.

Whenthe young exile had sat a while bowed downhe rose and dashed thetears from his eyes like a man; and not casting a single glance morebehind himto weaken his heartstepped out into the wide world.

Hislove and heavy sorrow left no room in him for vulgar misgivings.Compared with rending himself from Margaretit seemed a small thingto go on foot to Italy in that rude age.

Allnations meet in a convent. Sothanks to his good friends the monksand his own thirst of knowledgehe could speak most of the languagesneeded on that long road. He said to himself"I will soon be atRome; the sooner the better now."

Afterwalking a good leaguehe came to a place where four ways met. Beingcountry roadsand serpentinethey had puzzled many an inexperiencedneighbour passing from village to village. Gerard took out a littledial Peter had given himand set it in the autumn sunand by thiscompass steered unhesitatingly for Rome inexperienced as a youngswallow flying south; but unlike the swallowwandering south alone.

 

CHAPTERXXIV

Notfar on this road he came upon a little group. Two men in sober suitsstood leaning lazily on each side of a horsetalking to one another.The riderin a silk doublet and bright green jerkin and hosebothof English clothglossy as a molelay flat on his stomach in theafternoon sunand looked an enormous lizard. His velvet cloak(flaming yellow) was carefully spread over the horse's loins.

"Isaught amiss?" inquired Gerard.

"Notthat I wot of" replied one of the servants.

"Butyour masterhe lies like a corpse. Are ye not ashamed to let himgrovel on the ground?"

"Goto; the bare ground is the best cure for his disorder. If you getsober in bedit gives you a headache; but you leap up from the hardground like a lark in spring. EhUlric?"

"Hespeaks soothyoung man" said Ulric warmly.

"Whatis the gentleman drunk?"

Theservants burst into a hoarse laugh at the simplicity of Gerard'squestion. But suddenly Ulric stoppedand eyeing him all oversaidvery gravely"Who are youand where bornthat know not theCount is ever drunk at this hour?" And Gerard found himself asuspected character.

"Iam a stranger" said he"but a true manand one thatloves knowledge; therefore ask I questionsand not for love ofprying."

"Ifyou be a true man" said Ulric shrewdly"then give ustrinkgeld for the knowledge we have given you."

Gerardlooked blankbut putting a good face on itsaid"Trinkgeldyou shall havesuch as my lean purse can sparean if you will tellme why ye have ta'en his cloak from the man and laid it on thebeast."

Underthe inspiring influence of coming trinkgeldtwo solutions wereinstantly offered Gerard at once: the one wasthat should the Countcome to himself (whichbeing a seasoned toperhe was apt to do allin a minute)and find his horse standing sweating in the coldwhilea cloak lay idle at handhe would fall to cursingand peradventureto laying on; the othermore pretentiouswasthat a horse is apoor milksopwhichdrinking nothing but waterhas to be cockeredup and warmed outside; but a masterbeing a creature ever filledwith good beerhas a store of inward heat that warms him to theskinand renders a cloak a mere shred of idle vanity.

Eachof the speakers fell in love with his theoryandto tell the truthboth had taken a hair or two of the dog that had bitten their masterto the brain; so their voices presently rose so highthat the greensot began to growl instead of snoring. In their heat they did notnotice this.

Erelong the argument took a turn that sooner or later was pretty sure toenliven a discussion in that age. Hansholding the bridle with hisright handgave Ulric a sound cuff with his left; Ulric returned itwith interesthis right hand being free; and at it they wentdingdongover the horse's manepommelling one anotherand jagging thepoor beasttill he ran backwardand trode with iron heel upon apromontory of the green lord; helike the toad stung by Ithuriel'sspearstarted up howlingwith one hand clapped to the smart and theother tugging at his hilt. The servantsamazed with terrorlet thehorse go; he galloped off whinnyingthe men in pursuit of him cryingout with fearand the green noble after themvolleying curseshisnaked sword in his handand his body rebounding from hedge to hedgein his headlong but zigzag career down the narrow lane.

"Inwhich hurtling" Gerard turned his back on them alland wentcalmly southglad to have saved the four tin farthings he had gotready for trinkgeldbut far too heavy hearted even to smile at theirdrunken extravagance.

Thesun was nearly settingand Gerardwho had now for some time beenhoping in vain to find an inn by the waywas very ill at ease. Tomake matters worseblack clouds gathered over the sky.

Gerardquickened his pace almost to a run.

Itwas in vain; down came the rain in torrentsdrenched the bewilderedtravellerand seemed to extinguish the very sun-for his raysalready fadingcould not cope with this new assailant.

Gerardtrudged ondarkand wetand in an unknown region. "Fool! toleave Margaret" said he.

Presentlythe darkness thickened.

Hewas entering a great wood. Huge branches shot across the narrow roadand the benighted stranger groped his way in what seemed aninterminable and inky cave with a rugged flooron which he stumbledand stumbled as he went.

Onand onand onwith shivering limbs and empty stomachand faintinghearttill the wolves rose from their lairs and bayed all round thewood.

Hishair bristled; but he grasped his cudgeland prepared to sell hislife dear.

Therewas no wind; and his excited ear heard light feet patter at timesover the newly fallen leavesand low branches rustle with creaturesgliding swiftly past them.

Presentlyin the sea of ink there was a great fiery star close to the ground.He hailed it as he would his patron saint. "CANDLE! a CANDLE!"he shoutedand tried to run. But the dark and rugged way soonstopped that. The light was more distant than he had thought. But atlastin the very heart of the foresthe found a housewith lightedcandles and loud voices inside it. He looked up to see if there was asignboard. There was none. "Not an inn after all!" said hesadly. "No matter; what Christian would turn a dog out into thiswood to-night?" and with this he made for the door that led tothe voices. He opened it slowlyand put his head in timidly. He drewit out abruptlyas if slapped in the faceand recoiled into therain and darkness.

Hehad peeped into a large but low roomthe middle of which was filledby a huge round stoveor clay oventhat reached to the ceiling;round thiswet clothes were drying-some on linesand some morecompendiouslyon rustics. These latter habilimentsimpregnated withthe wet of the daybut the dirt of a lifeand lined with whatanother foot traveller in these parts call "rammish clowns"evolved rank vapours and compound odours inexpressiblein steamingclouds.

Inone corner was a travelling familya large one: thence flowed intothe common stock the peculiar sickly smell of neglected brats. Garlicfilled up the interstices of the air. And all this with closedwindowand intense heat of the central furnaceand the breath of atleast forty persons.

Theyhad just supped.

NowGerardlike most artistshad sensitive organsand the potenteffluvia struck dismay into him. But the rain lashed him outsideandthe light and the fire tempted him in.

Hecould not force his way all at once through the palpable perfumesbut he returned to the light again and againlike the singed moth.At last he discovered that the various smells did not entirely mixno fiend being there to stir them round. Odour of family predominatedin two corners; stewed rustic reigned supreme in the centre; andgarlic in the noisy group by the window. He foundtooby hastyanalysisthat of these the garlic described the smallest aerialorbitand the scent of reeking rustic darted farthest - a flavour asif ancient goatsor the fathers of all foxeshad been drawn througha riverand were here dried by Nebuchadnezzar.

SoGerard crept into a corner close to the door. But though the solidityof the main fetors isolated them somewhatthe heat and reekingvapours circulatedand made the walls drip; and the home-nurturednovice found something like a cold snake wind about his legsand hishead turn to a great lump of lead; and nexthe felt like chokingsweetly slumberingand dyingall in one.

Hewas within an ace of swooningbut recovered to a deep sense ofdisgust and discouragement; and settled to go back to Holland at peepof day. This resolution formedhe plucked up a little heart; andbeing faint with hungerasked one of the men of garlic whether thiswas not an inn after all?

"Whencecome youwho know not 'The Star of the Forest'?" was the reply.

"Iam a stranger; and in my country inns have aye a sign."

"Drollcountry yours! What need of a sign to a public-house -a place thatevery soul knows?"

Gerardwas too tired and faint for the labour of argumentso he turned theconversationand asked where he could find the landlord?

Atthis fresh display of ignorancethe native's contempt rose too highfor words. He pointed to a middle-aged woman seated on the other sideof the oven; and turning to his mateslet them know what anoutlandish animal was in the room. Thereat the loud voices stoppedone by oneas the information penetrated the mass; and each eyeturnedas on a pivotfollowing Gerardand his every movementsilently and zoologically.

Thelandlady sat on a chair an inch or two higher than the restbetweentwo bundles. From the firsta huge heap of feathers and wingsshewas taking the downy plumesand pulling the others from the quillsand so filling bundle two littering the floor ankle-deepandcontributing to the general stock a stuffy little malariawhichmight have played a distinguished part in a sweet roombut went fornothing here. Gerard asked her if he could have something to eat.

Sheopened her eyes with astonishment. "Supper is over this hour andmore.

"ButI had none of itgood dame."

"Isthat my fault? You were welcome to your share for me."

"ButI was benightedand a stranger; and belated sore against my will."

"Whathave I to do with that? All the world knows 'The Star of the Forest'sups from six till eight. Come before sixye sup well; come beforeeightye sup as pleases Heaven; come after eightye get a cleanbedand a stirrup cupor a horn of kine's milkat the dawning."

Gerardlooked blank. "May I go to bedthendame?" said hesulkily "for it is ill sitting up wet and fastingand thebyword saith'He sups who sleeps.'"

"Thebeds are not come yet" replied the landlady. "You willsleep when the rest do. Inns are not built for one.

Itwas Gerard's turn to be astonished. "The beds were not come!whatin Heaven's namedid she mean?" But he was afraid to askfor every word he had spoken hitherto had amazed the assemblyandzoological eyes were upon him-he felt them. He leaned against thewalland sighed audibly.

Atthis fresh zoological traita titter went round the watchfulcompany.

"Sothis is Germany" thought Gerard; "and Germany is a greatcountry by Holland. Small nations for me."

Heconsoled himself by reflecting it was to be his lastas well as hisfirstnight in the land. His reverie was interrupted by an elbowdriven into his ribs. He turned sharp on his assailantwho pointedacross the room. Gerard lookedand a woman in the corner wasbeckoning him. He went towards her gingerlybeing surprised andirresoluteso that to a spectator her beckoning finger seemed to bepulling him across the floor with a gut-line. When he had got up toher"Hold the child" said shein a fine hearty voice;and in a moment she plumped the bairn into Gerard's arms.

Hestood transfixedjelly of lead in his handsand sudden horror inhis elongated countenance.

Atthis ruefully expressive facethe lynx-eyed conclave laughed loudand long.

"Neverheed them" said the woman cheerfully; "they know nobetter; how should theybred an' born in a wood?" She wasrummaging among her clothes with the two penetrating handsone ofwhich Gerard had set free. Presently she fished out a small tin plateand a dried pudding; and resuming her child with one armheld themforth to Gerard with the otherkeeping a thumb on the pudding toprevent it from slipping off.

"Putit in the stove" said she; "you are too young to lie downfasting."

Gerardthanked her warmly. But on his way to the stovehis eye fell on thelandlady. "May Idame?" said he beseechingly.

"Whynot?" said she.

Thequestion was evidently another surprisethough less startling thanits predecessors.

Comingto the stoveGerard found the oven door obstructed by "therammish clowns." They did not budge. He hesitated a moment. Thelandlady sawcalmly put down her workand coming uppulled ahircine man or two hitherand pushed a hircine man or two thitherwith the impassive countenance of a housewife moving her furniture."Turn about is fair play" she said; "ye have been drythis ten minutes and better."

Herexperienced eye was not deceived; Gorgonii had done stewingandbegun baking. Debarred the stovethey trundled homeall but onewho stood like a tablewhere the landlady had moved him tolike atable. And Gerard baked his pudding; and getting to the stoveburstinto steam.

Thedoor openedand in flew a bundle of straw.

Itwas hurled by a hind with a pitchfork. Another and another cameflying after ittill the room was like a clean farm- yard. Thesewere then dispersed round the stove in layerslike the seats in anarenaand in a moment the company was all on its back.

Thebeds had come.

Gerardtook out his puddingand found it delicious. While he was relishingitthe woman who had given it himand who was now abedbeckonedhim again. He went to her bundle side. "She is waiting for you"whispered the woman. Gerard returned to the stoveand gobbled. therest of his sausagecasting uneasy glances at the landladyseatedsilent as fate amid the prostrate multitude. The food boltedhe wentto herand said"Thank you kindlydamefor waiting for me."

"Youare welcome" said she calmlymaking neither much nor little ofthe favour; and with that began to gather up the feathers. But Gerardstopped her. "Naythat is my task;" and he went down onhis kneesand collected them with ardour. She watched him demurely.

"Iwot not whence ye come"said shewith a relic of distrust;addingmore cordially"but ye have been well brought up; -y'have had a good motherI'll go bail."

Atthe door she committed the whole company to Heavenin a formulaanddisappeared. Gerard to his straw in the very corner-for the guestslay round the sacred stove by seniorityi.e. priority of arrival.

Thispunishment was a boon to Gerardfor thus he lay on the shore ofodour and stifling heatinstead of in mid-ocean.

Hewas just dropping offwhen he was awaked by a noise; and lo therewas the hind remorselessly shaking and waking guest after guesttoask him whether it was he who had picked up the mistress's feathers.

"Itwas I" cried Gerard.

"Ohit was youwas it?" said the otherand came striding rapidlyover the intermediate sleepers. "She bade me say'One good turndeserves another' and so here's your nightcap" and he thrust agreat oaken mug under Gerard's nose.

"Ithank herand bless her; here goes - ugh!" and his gratitudeended in a wry face; for the beer was muddyand had a strangemedicinal twang new to the Hollander.

"Trinkeaus!" shouted the hind reproachfully.

"Enowis as good as a feast" said the youth Jesuitically.

Thehind cast a look of pity on this stranger who left liquor in his mug."Ich brings euch" said heand drained it to the bottom.

Andnow Gerard turned his face to the wall and pulled up two handfuls ofthe nice clean strawand bored in them with his fingerand so madea scabbardand sheathed his nose in it. And soon they were allasleep; menmaidswivesand children all lying higgledy-piggledyand snoring in a dozen keys like an orchestra slowly tuning; andGerard's body lay on straw in Germanyand his spirit was away toSevenbergen.

Whenhe woke in the morning he found nearly all his fellow- passengersgone. One or two were waiting for dinnernine o'clock; it was nowsix. He paid the landlady her demandtwo pfenningor about anEnglish halfpennyand he of the pitchfork demanded trinkgeldandgetting a trifle more than usualand seeing Gerard eye a foamingmilk-pail he had just brought from the cowhoisted it up bodily tohis lips. "Drink your fillman" said heand on Gerardoffering to pay for the delicious draughttold him in broad patoisthat a man might swallow a skinful of milkor a breakfast of airwithout putting hand to pouch. At the door Gerard found hisbenefactress of last nightand a huge-chested artisanher husband.

Gerardthanked herand in the spirit of the age offered her a creutzer forher pudding.

Butshe repulsed his hand quietly. "For what do you take me?"said shecolouring faintly; "we are travellers and strangersthe same as youand bound to feel for those in like plight."

ThenGerard blushed in his turn and stammered excuses.

Thehulking husband grinned superior to them both.

"Givethe vixen a kiss for her puddingand cry quits" said hewithan air impartialjudge-like and Jove-like.

Gerardobeyed the lofty behestand kissed the wife's cheek. "Ablessing go with you bothgood people" said he.

"AndGod speed youyoung man!" replied the honest couple; and withthat they partedand never met again in this world.

Thesun had just risen: the rain-drops on the leaves glittered likediamonds. The air was fresh and bracingand Gerard steered southand did not even remember his resolve of overnight.

Eightleagues he walked that dayand in the afternoon came upon a hugebuilding with an enormous arched gateway and a postern by its side.

Amonastery!" cried he joyfully; "I go no further lest I fareworse." He applied at the posternand on stating whence he cameand whither boundwas instantly admitted and directed to theguestchambera large and lofty roomwhere travellers were fed andlodged gratis by the charity of the monastic orders. Soon the belltinkled for vespersand Gerard entered the church of the conventand from his place heard a service sung so exquisitelyit seemed thechoir of heaven. But one thing was wantingMargaret was not there tohear it with himand this made him sigh bitterly in mid rapture. Atsupperplain but wholesome and abundant foodand good beerbrewedin the conventwere set before him and his fellowsand at an earlyhour they were ushered into a large dormitoryand the number beingmoderatehad each a truckle bedand for coveringsheepskinsdressed with the fleece on; but previously to this a monkstruck byhis youth and beautyquestioned himand soon drew out his projectsand his heart. When he was found to be convent bredand going aloneto Romehe became a personageand in the morning they showed himover the convent and made him stay and dine in the refectory. Theyalso pricked him a route on a slip of parchmentand the prior gavehim a silver guilden to help him on the roadand advised him to jointhe first honest company he should fall in with"and not facealone the manifold perils of the way."

"Perils?"said Gerard to himself.

Thatevening he came to a small straggling town where was one inn; it hadno sign; but being now better versed in the customs of the countryhe detected it at once by the coats of arms on its walls. Thesebelonged to the distinguished visitors who had slept in it atdifferent epochs since its foundationand left these customarytokens of their patronage. At present it looked more like a mausoleumthan a hotel. Nothing moved nor sounded either in it or about it.Gerard hammered on the great oak door: no answer. He hallooed: noreply. After a while he hallooed louderand at last a little roundwindowor rather hole in the wallopeneda man's head protrudedcautiouslylike a tortoise's from its shelland eyed Gerardstolidlybut never uttered a syllable.

"Isthis an inn?" asked Gerardwith a covert sneer.

Thehead seemed to fall into a brown study; eventually it noddedbutlazily.

"CanI have entertainment here?"

Againthe head pondered and ended by noddingbut sullenlyand seemed askull overburdened with catch-penny interrogatories.

"Howam I to get withinan't please you?"

Atthis the head popped inas if the last question had shot it; and ahand popped outpointed round the corner of the buildingandslammed the window.

Gerardfollowed the indicationand after some research discovered that thefortification had one vulnerable parta small low door on its flank.As for the main entrancethat was used to keep out thieves andcustomersexcept once or twice in a yearwhen they enteredtogetheri.e.when some duke or count arrived in pomp with histrain of gaudy ruffians.

Gerardhaving penetrated the outer fortsoon found his way to the stove (asthe public room was called from the principal article in it)and satdown near the ovenin which were only a few live embers thatdiffused a mild and grateful heat.

Afterwaiting patiently a long timehe asked a grim old fellow with a longwhite beardwho stalked solemnly inand turned the hour-glassandthen was stalking outwhen supper would be. The grisly Ganymedecounted the guests on his fingers- "When I see thrice as manyhere as now." Gerard groaned.

Thegrisly tyrant resented the rebellious sound. "Inns are not builtfor one" said he; "if you can't wait for the restlookout for another lodging."

Gerardsighed.

Atthis the greybeard frowned.

Aftera while company trickled steadily intill full eighty persons ofvarious conditions were congregatedand to our novice the placebecame a chamber of horrors; for here the mothers got together andcompared ringwormsand the men scraped the mud off their shoes withtheir knivesand left it on the floorand combed their long hairoutinmates includedand made their toiletconsisting generally ofa dry rub. Waterhoweverwas brought in ewers. Gerard pounced onone of thesebut at sight of the liquid contents lost his temper andsaid to the waiter"Wash you first your waterand then a manmay wash his hands withal."

"An'it likes you notseek another inn!"

Gerardsaid nothingbut went quietly and courteously besought an oldtraveller to tell him how far it was to the next inn.

"Aboutfour leagues."

ThenGerard appreciated the grim pleasantry of the unbending sire.

Thatworthy now returned with an armful of woodand counting thetravellersput on a log for every sixby which act of raw justicethe hotter the room the more heat he added. Poor Gerard noticed thislittle flaw in the ancient man's logicbut carefully suppressedevery symptom of intelligencelest his feet should have to carry hisbrains four leagues farther that night.

Whenperspiration and suffocation were far advancedthey brought in thetable-cloths; but ohso brownso dirtyand so coarse; they seemedlike sacks that had been worn out in agriculture and come down tothisor like shreads from the mainsail of some worn-out ship. TheHollanderwho had never seen such linen even in nightmareuttered afaint cry.

"whatis to do?" inquired a traveller. Gerard pointed ruefully to thedirty sackcloth. The other looked at it with lack lustre eyeandcomprehended nought.

ABurgundian soldier with his arbalest at his back came peeping overGerard's shoulderand seeing what was amisslaughed so loud thatthe room rang againthen slapped him on the back and cried"Courage! le diable est mort."

Gerardstared: he doubted alike the good tidings and their relevancy; butthe tones were so hearty and the arbalestrier's facenotwithstandinga formidable beardwas so gay and genialthat he smiledand aftera pause said drily"Il a bien faite avec l'eau et linge du payson allait le noircir a ne se reconnaitre plus."

"Tienstiens!" cried the soldier"v'la qui parle le Francais peus'en faut" and he seated himself by Gerardand in a moment wastalking volubly of warwomenand pillageinterlarding hisdiscourse with curious oathsat which Gerard drew away from him moreor less.

Presentlyin came the grisly servantand counted them all on his fingerssuperciliouslylike Abraham telling sheep; then went out againandreturned with a deal trencher and deal spoon to each.

Thenthere was an interval. Then he brought them a long mug apiece made ofglassand frowned. By-and-by he stalked gloomily in with a hunch ofbread apieceand exit with an injured air. Expectation thus raisedthe guests sat for nearly an hour balancing the wooden spoonsandwith their own knives whittling the bread. Eventuallywhen hope wasextinctpatience worn outand hunger exhausteda huge vessel wasbrought in with pompthe lid was removeda cloud of steam rolledforthand behold some thin broth with square pieces of breadfloating. Thisthough not agreeable to the mindserved to distendthe body. Slices of Strasbourg ham followedand pieces of salt fishboth so highly salted that Gerard could hardly swallow a mouthful.Then came a kind of grueland when the repast had lasted an hour andmoresome hashed meat highly peppered and the French and Dutch beingnow full to the brim with the above daintiesand the draughts ofbeer the salt and spiced meats had provokedin came roasted kidsmost excellentand carp and trout fresh from the stream. Gerard madean effort and looked angrily at thembut "could no more"as the poets say. The Burgundian swore by the liver and pike-staff ofthe good centurionthe natives had outwitted him. Then turning toGerardhe said"Couragel'amile diable est mort" asloudly as beforebut not with the same tone of conviction. The cannynatives had kept an internal corner for contingenciesand polishedthe kid's very bones.

Thefeast ended with a dish of raw animalcula in a wicker cage. A cheesehad been surrounded with little twigs and strings; then a hole madein it and a little sour wine poured in. This speedily bred a smallbut numerous vermin. When the cheese was so rotten with them thatonly the twigs and string kept it from tumbling to pieces and walkingoff quadriviousit came to table. By a malicious caprice of fatecage and menagerie were put down right under the Dutchman's organ ofself-torture. He recoiled with a loud ejaculationand hung to thebench by the calves of his legs.

"Whatis the matter?" said a traveller disdainfully. "Does thegood cheese scare ye? Then put it hitherin the name of all thesaints!"

"Cheese!"cried Gerard"I see none. These nauseous reptiles have madeaway with every bit of it."

"Well"replied another"it is not gone far. By eating of the mites weeat the cheese to boot."

"Naynot so" said Gerard. "These reptiles are made like usanddigest their food and turn it to foul flesh even as we do ours tosweet; as well might you think to chew grass by eating of grass-fedbeevesas to eat cheese by swallowing these uncleanly insects."

Gerardraised his voice in uttering thisand the company received theparadox in dead silenceand with a distrustful airlike any otherstrangerduring which the Burgundianwho understood German butimperfectlymade Gerard Gallicize the discussion. He patted hisinterpreter on the back. "C'est bienmon gars; plus fin que toin'est pas bete" and administered his formula of encouragement;and Gerard edged away from him; for next to ugly sights and illodoursthe poor wretch disliked profaneness.

Meantimethough shaken in argumentthe raw reptiles were duly eaten andrelished by the companyand served to provoke thirsta principalaim of all the solids in that part of Germany. So now the companydrank garausses all roundand their tongues were unloosedand ohthe Babel! But above the fierce clamour rose at intervalslike somehero's war-cry in battlethe trumpet- like voice of the Burgundiansoldier shouting lustily"Couragecamaradesle diable estmort!"

Enteredgrisly Ganymede holding in his hand a wooden dish with circles andsemicircles marked on it in chalk. He put it down on the table andstood silentsadand sombreas Charon by Styx waiting for hisboat-load of souls. Then pouches and purses were rummagedand eachthrew a coin into the dish. Gerard timidly observed that he had drunknext to no beerand inquired how much less he was to pay than theothers.

"Whatmean you?" said Ganymede roughly. "Whose fault is it youhave not drunken? Are all to suffer because one chooses to be amilksop? You will pay no more than the restand no less."

Gerardwas abashed.

"Couragepetitle diable est mort" hiccoughed the soldier and flungGanymede a coin.

"Youare bad as he is" said the old man peevishly; "you arepaying too much;" and the tyrannical old Aristides returned himsome coin out of the trencher with a most reproachful countenance.And now the man whom Gerard had confuted an hour and a half ago awokefrom a brown studyin which he had been ever sinceand came to himand said"Yesbut the honey is none the worse for passingthrough the bees' bellies."

Gerardstared. The answer had been so long on the road he hadn't an ideawhat it was an answer to. Seeing him dumfoundedthe other concludedhim confutedand withdrew calmed.

Thebedrooms were upstairsdungeons with not a scrap of furniture exceptthe bedand a male servant settled inexorably who should sleep withwhom. Neither money nor prayers would get a man a bed to himselfhere; custom forbade it sternly. You might as well have asked tomonopolize a see-saw. They assigned to Gerard a man with a greatblack beard. He was an honest fellow enoughbut not perfect; hewould not go to bedand would sit on the edge of it telling thewretched Gerard by forceand at lengththe events of the dayandalternately laughing and crying at the same circumstanceswhich werenot in the smallest degree pathetic or humorousbut only deadtrivial. At last Gerard put his fingers in his earsand lying downin his clothesfor the sheets were too dirty for him to undresscontrived to sleep. But in an hour or two he awoke coldand foundthat his drunken companion had got all the feather bed; so mighty isinstinct. They lay between two beds; the lower one hard and made ofstrawthe upper soft and filled with feathers light as down. Gerardpulled at itbut the experienced drunkard held it fast mechanically.Gerard tried to twitch it away by surprisebut instinct was too manyfor him. On this he got out of bedand kneeling down on hisbedfellow's unguarded sideeasily whipped the prize away and rolledwith it under the bedand there lay on one edge of itand curledthe rest round his shoulders. Before he slept he often heardsomething grumbling and growling above himwhich was some littlesatisfaction. Thus instinct was outwittedand victorious Reason laychuckling on feathersand not quite choked with dust.

Atpeep of day Gerard roseflung the feather bed upon his snoringcompanionand went in search of milk and air.

Acheerful voice hailed him in French: "What ho! you are up withthe suncomrade."

"Herises betimes that lies in a dog's lair" answered Gerardcrossly.

"Couragel'ami! le diable est mort" was the instant reply. The soldierthen told him his name was Denysand he was passing from Flushing inZealand to the Duke's French dominions; a change the more agreeableto himas he should revisit his native placeand a host of prettygirls who had wept at his departureand should hear French spokenagain. "And who are youand whither bound?"

"Myname is Gerardand I am going to Rome" said the more reservedHollanderand in a way that invited no further confidences.

"Allthe better; we will go together as far as Burgundy."

"Thatis not my road."

"Allroads take to Rome."

"Aybut the shortest road thither is my way."

"Wellthenit is I who must go out of my way a step for the sake of goodcompanyfor thy face likes meand thou speakest Frenchor nearly."

"Therego two words to that bargain" said Gerard coldly. "I steerby proverbstoo. They do put old heads on young men's shoulders.'Bon loup mauvais compagnondit le brebis;' and a soldierthey sayis near akin to a wolf."

"Theylie" said Denys; "besidesif he is'les loups ne semangent pas entre eux.'"

"Ayebutsir soldierI am not a wolf; and thou knowesta bien petiteoccasion se saisit le loup du mouton.'"

"Letus drop wolves and sheepbeing men; my meaning isthat a goodsoldier never pillages-a comrade. Comeyoung mantoo much suspicionbecomes not your years. They who travel should learn to read faces;methinks you might see lealty in mine sith I have seen it in yourn.Is it yon fat purse at your girdle you fear for?" (Gerard turnedpale.) "Look hither!" and he undid his beltand poured outof it a double handful of gold piecesthen returned them to theirhiding-place. "There is a hostage for you" said he; "carryyou thatand let us be comrades" and handed him his beltgoldand all.

Gerardstared. "If I am over prudentyou have not enow." But heflushed and looked pleased at the other's trust in him.

"Bah!I can read faces; and so must youor you'll never take your fourbones safe to Rome."

"Soldieryou would find me a dull companionfor my heart is very heavy"said Gerardyielding.

"I'llcheer youmon gars."

"Ithink you would" said Gerard sweetly; "and sore need haveI of a kindly voice in mine ear this day."

"Oh!no soul is sad alongside me. I lift up their poor little hearts withmy consigne: 'Couragetout le mondele diable est mort.' Ha! ha!"

"Sobe itthen" said Gerard. "But take back your beltfor Icould never trust by halves. We will go together as far as RhineandGod go with us both!"

"Amen!"said Denys. and lifted his cap. "En avant!"

Thepair trudged manfully onand Denys enlivened the weary way. Hechattered about battles and siegesand things which were new toGerard; and he was one of those who make little incidents whereverthey go. He passed nobody without addressing them. "They don'tunderstand itbut it wakes them up" said he. But whenever theyfell in with a monk or priest. he pulled a long faceand sought thereverend father's blessingand fearlessly poured out on him floodsof German words in such order as not to produce a single Germansentence - He doffed his cap to every womanhigh or lowhe caughtsight ofand with eagle eye discerned her best featureandcomplimented her on it in his native tonguewell adapted to suchmatters; and at each carrion crow or magpiedown came his crossbowand he would go a furlong off the road to circumvent it; and indeedhe did shoot one old crow with laudable neatness and despatchandcarried it to the nearest hen-roostand there slipped in and set itupon a nest. "The good-wife will say'Alackhere is Beelzebubahatching of my eggs.'"

"Noyou forget he is dead" objected Gerard.

"Sohe isso he is. But she doesn't know thatnot having the luck to beacquainted with mewho carry the good news from city to cityuplifting men's hearts."

Suchwas Denys in time of peace.

Ourtravellers towards nightfall reached a village; it was a very smallonebut contained a place of entertainment. They searched for itand found a small house with barn and stables. In the former was theeverlasting stoveand the clothes drying round it on linesand atraveller or two sitting morose. Gerard asked for supper.

"Supper?We have no time to cook for travellers; we only provide lodginggoodlodging for man and beast. You can have some beer."

"Madmanwhoborn in Hollandsought other lands!" snorted Gerard inDutch. The landlady started.

"Whatgibberish is that?" asked sheand crossed herself with looks ofsuperstitious alarm. "You can buy what you like in the villageand cook it in our oven; butpritheemutter no charms nor sorceriesheregood man; don't ye nowit do make my flesh creep so."

Theyscoured the village for foodand ended by supping on roasted eggsand brown bread.

Ata very early hour their chambermaid came for them. It was arosy-cheeked old fellow with a lanthorn.

Theyfollowed him. He led them across a dirty farmyardwhere they hadmuch ado to pick their steps. and brought them into a cow-house.Thereon each side of every cowwas laid a little clean strawanda tied bundle of ditto for a pillow. The old man looked down on thishis work with paternal pride. Not so Gerard. "Whatdo you setChristian men to lie among cattle?"

"Wellit is hard upon the poor beasts. They have scarce room to turn."

"Oh!whatit is not hard on usthen?"

"Whereis the hardship? I have lain among them all my life. Look at me! I amfourscoreand never had a headache in all my born days - all alongof lying among the kye. Bless your silly headkine's breath is tentimes sweeter to drink nor Christians'. You try it!" and heslammed the bedroom door.

"Denyswhere are you?" whined Gerard.

"Hereon her other side."

"Whatare you doing?"

"Iknow not; but as near as I can guessI think I must be going tosleep. What are you at?

"Iam saying my prayers."

"Forgetme not in them!"

"Isit likely? DenysI shall soon have done: do not go to sleepI wantto talk.

"Despatchthen! for I feel - augh like floating-in the sky on a warm cloud."

"Denys!"

"Augh!eh! hallo! is it time to get up?"

"Alackno. ThereI hurried my orisons to talk; and look at yougoing tosleep! We shall be starved before morninghaving no coverlets."

"Wellyou know what to do."

"NotIin sooth."

"Cuddlethe cow."

"Thankyou."

"Burrowin the strawthen. You must be very new to the worldto grumble atthis. How would you bear to lie on the field of battle on a frostynightas I did t'other daystark nakedwith nothing to keep mewarm but the carcass of a fellow I had been and helped kill?"

"Horrible!horrible! Tell me all about it! Ohbut this is sweet."

"Wellwe had a little battle in Brabantand won a little victorybut itcost us dear; several arbalestriers turned their toes up. and I amongthem."

"KilledDenys? come now!"

"Deadas mutton. Stuck full of pike-holes till the blood ran out of melike the good wine of Macon from the trodden grapes. It is rightbounteous in me to pour the tale in minstrel phrasefor - augh - Iam sleepy. Augh - now where was I?"

"Leftdead on the field of battlebleeding like a pig; that is to saylike grapes. or something; go onprithee go on'tis a sin to sleepin the midst of a good story."

"Granted.Wellsome of those vagabondsthat strip the dead soldier on thefield of glorycame and took every rag off me; they wrought me nofurther illbecause there was no need."

"No;you were dead."

"C'estconvenu. This must have been at sundown; and with the night came ashrewd frost that barkened the blood on my woundsand stopped allthe rivulets that were running from my heartand about midnight Iawoke as from a trance.'

"Andthought you were in heaven?" asked Gerard eagerlybeing a youthinoculated with monkish tales.

"Toofrost-bitten for thatmon gars; besidesI heard the woundedgroaning on all sidesso I knew I was in the old place. I saw Icould not live the night through without cover. I groped aboutshivering and shivering; at last one did suddenly leave groaning.'You are sped' said Iso made up to himand true enough he wasdeadbut warmyou know. I took my lord in my armsbut was too weakto carry himso rolled with him into a ditch hard by; and there mycomrades found me in the morning properly stung with nettlesandhugging a dead Fleming for the bare life."

Gerardshuddered. "And this is war; this is the chosen theme of poetsand troubadoursand Reden Ryckers. Truly was it said by the men ofolddulce bellum inexpertis."

"Tudis?"

"Isay-ohwhat stout hearts some men have!"

"N'est-cepasp'tit? So after that sort - thing - this sort thing is heaven.Soft - warm - good companycomradancow - cou'age -diable - m-ornk!"

Andthe glib tongue was still for some hours.

Inthe morning Gerard was wakened by a liquid hitting his eyeand itwas Denys employing the cow's udder as a squirt.

"Ohfie!" cried Gerard"to waste the good milk;" and hetook a horn out of his wallet. "Fill this! but indeed I see notwhat right we have to meddle with her milk at all."

"Makeyour mind easy! Last night la camarade was not nice; but what thentrue friendship dispenses with ceremony. To-day we make as free withher."

"Whywhat did she dopoor thing?"

"Atemy pillow."

"Ha!ha!"

"Onwaking I had to hunt for my headand found it down in the stablegutter. She ate our pillow from uswe drink our pillow from her. Avotre santemadame; et sans rancune;" and the dog drank hermilk to her own health.

"Theancient was right though" said Gerard. "Never have I risenso refreshed since I left my native land. Henceforth let us shungreat townsand still lie in a convent or a cow-house; for I'dliever sleep on fresh strawthan on linen well washed six monthsagone; and the breath of kine it is sweeter than that of Christianslet alone the garlicwhich men and women folk affectbut cowenabhor fromand so do ISt. Bavon be my witness!"

Thesoldier eyed him from head to foot: "Now but for that littletuft on your chin I should take you for a girl; and by thefinger-nails of St. Lukeno ill-favoured one neither."

Thesethree towns proved types and repeated themselves with slightvariations for many a weary league; but even when he could getneither a convent nor a cow-houseGerard learned in time to steelhimself to the inevitable. and to emulate his comradewhom he lookedon as almost superhuman for hardihood of body and spirit.

Therewashowevera balance to all this veneration.

Denyslike his predecessor Achilleshad his weak parthis very weak partthought Gerard.

Hisfoible was "woman."

Whateverhe was saying or doinghe stopped short at sight of a farthingaleand his whole soul became occupied with that garment and its inmatetill they had disappeared; and some- times for a good while after.

Heoften put Gerard to the blush by talking his amazing German to suchfemales as he caught standing or sitting indoors or outat whichthey stared; and when he met a peasant girl on the roadhe took offhis cap to her and saluted her as if she was a queen; the invariableeffect of which wasthat she suddenly drew herself up quite stifflike a soldier on paradeand wore a forbidding countenance.

"Theydrive me to despair" said Denys. "Is that a just return toa civil bonnetade? They are largethey are fairbut stupid asswans."

"Whatbreeding can you expect from women that wear no hose?" inquiredGerard; "and some of them no shoon? They seem to me reserved andmodestas becomes their sexand soberwhereas the men are littlebetter than beer-barrels. Would you have them brazen as well ashoseless?"

"Alittle affability adorns even beauty" sighed Denys.

"Thenlet these alonesith they are not to your taste" retortedGerard. "Whatis there no sweet face in Burgundy that wouldpale to see you so wrapped up in strange women?"

"Half-a-dozenthat would cry their eyes out."

"Wellthen!"

"Butit is a long way to Burgundy."

"Ayto the footbut not to the heart. I am theresleeping and wakingand almost every minute of the day."

"InBurgundy? WhyI thought you had never - "

"InBurgundy?" cried Gerard contemptuously. "Noin sweetSevenbergen. Ah! well-a-day! well-a-day!"

Manysuch dialogues as this passed between the pair on the long and wearyroadand neither could change the other.

Oneday about noon they reached a town of some pretensionsand Gerardwas gladfor he wanted to buy a pair of shoes; his own were quiteworn out. They soon found a shop that displayed a goodly arrayandmade up to itand would have entered itbut the shopkeeper sat onthe doorstep taking a napand was so fat as to block up the narrowdoorway; the very light could hardly struggle past his "tootoosolid flesh" much less a carnal customer.

Myfair readersaccustomedwhen they go shoppingto be met half waywith nodsand becksand wreathed smilesand waved into a seatwhile almost at the same instant an eager shopman flings himself halfacross the counter in a semi-circle to learn their commandscan bestappreciate this mediaeval Teutonwho kept a shop as a dog keeps akenneland sat at the exclusion of custom snoring like a pig.

Denysand Gerard stood and contemplated this curiosity; emblempermit meto remarkof the lets and hindrances to commerce that characterizedhis epoch.

"Jumpover him!"

"Thedoor is too low."

"Marchthrough him!"

"Theman is too thick."

"Whatis the coil?" inquired a mumbling voice from the interior;apprentice with his mouth full.

"Wewant to get into your shop?"

"Whatforin Heaven's name??!!!"

"Shoonlazy bones!"

Theire of the apprentice began to rise at such an explanation. "Andcould ye find no hour out of all the twelve to come pestering us forshoonbut the one littlelittle hour my master takes his napand Isit down to my dinnerwhen all the rest of the world is full longago?"

Denysheardbut could not follow the sense. "Waste no more timetalking their German gibberish" said he; "take out thyknife and tickle his fat ribs."

"ThatI will not" said Gerard.

"Thenhere goes; I'll prong him with this."

Gerardseized the mad fellow's arm in dismayfor he had been long enough inthe country to guess that the whole town would take part in any brawlwith the native against a stranger. But Denys twisted away from himand the cross-bow bolt in his hand was actually on the road to thesleeper's ribs; but at that very moment two females crossed the roadtowards him; he saw the blissful visionand instantly forgot what hewas aboutand awaited their approach with unreasonable joy.

Thoughcompanionsthey were not equalsexcept in attractiveness to aBurgundian crossbow man; for one was very tallthe other shortandby one of those anomalies which societyhowever primitivespeedilyestablishesthe long one held up the little one's tail. The tall onewore a plain linen coif on her heada little grogram cloak over hershouldersa grey kirtleand a short farthingale or petticoat ofbright red clothand feet and legs quite barethough her arms wereveiled in tight linen sleeves.

Theother a kirtle broadly trimmed with furher arms in double sleeveswhereof the inner of yellow satin clung to the skin; the outerallbefurredwere open at the inside of the elbowand so the arm passedthrough and left them dangling. Velvet head-dresshuge purse atgirdlegorgeous trainbare legs. And thus they came onthecitizen's wife struttingand the maid gliding afterholding hermistress's train devoutly in both handsand bending and winding herlithe body prettily enough to do it. Imagine (if not pressed fortime) a bantamwith a guineahen stepping obsequious at its statelyheel.

Thispageant made straight for the shoemaker's shop. Denys louted low; theworshipful lady nodded graciouslybut rapidlyhaving business onhandor rather on foot; for in a moment she poked the point of herlittle shoe into the sleeperand worked it round in him like agimlettill with a long snarl he woke. The incarnate shutter risingand grumbling vaguely. the lady swept in and deigned him no furthernotice. He retreated to his neighbour's shopthe tailor'sandsitting on the stepprotected it from the impertinence of morningcalls. Neighbours should be neighbourly.

Denysand Gerard followed the dignity into the shopwhere sat theapprentice at dinner; the maid stood outside with her instepscrossedleaning against the walland tapping it with her nails.

"Thoseyonder" said the dignity brieflypointing with an imperiouslittle white hand to some yellow shoes gilded at the toe. While theapprentice stood stock still neutralized by his dinner and his dutyDenys sprang at the shoesand brought them to her; she smiledandcalmly seating herselfprotruded her footshodbut hoselessandscented. Down went Denys on his kneesand drew off her shoeandtried the new ones on the white skin devoutly. Finding she had awilling victimshe abused the opportunitytried first one pairthen anotherthen the first againand so onbalancing andhesitating for about half an hourto Gerard's disgustand Denys'sweak delight. At last she was fittedand handed two pair of yellowand one pair of red shoes out to her servant. Then was heard a sigh.It burst from the owner of the shop: he had risen from slumberandwas now hovering aboutlike a partridge near her brood in danger.

"Therego all my coloured shoes" said heas they disappeared in thegirl's apron.

Thelady departed: Gerard fitted himself with a stout pairasked thepricepaid it without a wordand gave his old ones to a beggar inthe streetwho blessed him in the marketplaceand threw themfuriously down a well in the suburbs. The comrades left the shopandin it two melancholy menthat lookedand even talkedas if theyhad been robbed wholesale.

"Myshoon are sore worn" said Denysgrinding his teeth; "butI'll go barefoot till I reach Franceere I'll leave my money withsuch churls as these."

TheDutchman replied calmly"They seem indifferent well sewn.

Asthey drew near the Rhinethey passed through forest after forestand now for the first time ugly words sounded in travellers' mouthsseated around stoves. "Thieves!" "black gangs!""cut-throats!" etc.

Thevery rustics were said to have a custom hereabouts of murdering theunwary traveller in these gloomy woodswhose dark and deviouswinding enabled those who were familiar with them to do deeds ofrapine and blood undetectedor if detectedeasily to bafflepursuit.

Certainit wasthat every clown they met carriedwhether for offence ordefencea most formidable weapon; a light axewith a short pike atthe headand a long slender handle of ash or yewwell seasoned.These the natives could all throw with singular precisionso as tomake the point strike an object at several yard's distanceor couldslay a bullock at hand with a stroke of the blade. Gerard bought oneand practised with it. Denys quietly filed and ground his bolt sharpwhistling the whilst; and when they entered a gloomy woodhe wouldunsling his crossbow and carry it ready for action; but not so muchlike a traveller fearing an attackas a sportsman watchful not tomiss a snap shot

Onedaybeing in a forest a few leagues from Dusseldorfas Gerard waswalking like one in a dreamthinking of Margaretand scarce seeingthe road he trodehis companion laid a hand on his shoulderandstrung his crossbow with glittering eye. "Hush!" said hein a low whisper that startled Gerard more than thunder. Gerardgrasped his axe tightand shook a little: he heard a rustling in thewood hard byand at the same moment Denys sprang into the woodandhis crossbow went to his shouldereven as he jumped. Twang! went themetal string; and after an instant's suspense he roared"Runforwardguard the roadhe is hit! he is hit!"

Gerarddarted forwardand as he ran a young bear burst out of the woodright upon him; finding itself interceptedit went upon its hindlegs with a snarland though not half grownopened formidable jawsand long claws. Gerardin a fury of excitement and agitationflunghimself on itand delivered a tremendous blow on its nose with hisaxeand the creature staggered; anotherand it lay grovellingwithGerard hacking it.

"Hallo!stop! you are mad to spoil the meat."

"Itook it for a robber" said Gerardpanting. "I meanI hadmade ready for a robberso I could not hold my hand."

"Aythese chattering travellers have stuffed your head full of thievesand assassins; they have not got a real live robber in their wholenation. NayI'll carry the beast; bear thou my crossbow."

"Wewill carry it by turnsthen" said Gerard"for 'tis aheavy load: poor thinghow its blood drips. Why did we slay it?"

"Forsupper and the reward the baillie of the next town shall give us."

"Andfor that it must diewhen it had but just begun to live; andperchance it hath a mother that will miss it sore this nightandloves it as ours love us; more than mine does me."

"Whatknow you not that his mother was caught in a pitfall last monthandher skin is now at the tanner's? and his father was stuck full ofcloth-yard shafts t'other dayand died like Julius Caesarwith hishands folded on his bosomand a dead dog in each of them?"

ButGerard would not view it jestingly. "Whythen" said he"we have killed one of God's creatures that was all alone in theworld-as I am this dayin this strange land."

"Youyoung milksop" roared Denys"these things must not belooked at soor not another bow would be drawn nor quarrel fly inforest nor battlefield. Whyone of your kidney consorting with atroop of pikemen should turn them to a row of milk-pails; it isendedto Rome thou goest not alonefor never wouldst thou reach theAlps in a whole skin. I take thee to Remiremontmy native placeandthere I marry thee to my young sistershe is blooming as a peach.Thou shakest thy head? ah! I forgot; thou lovest elsewhereand art aone woman mana creature to me scarce conceivable. Well then I shallfind theenot a wifenor a lemanbut a friend; some honestBurgundian who shall go with thee as far as Lyons; and much I doubtthat honest fellow will be myselfinto whose liquor thou has droppedsundry powders to make me love thee; for erst I endured not doves indoublet and hose. From LyonsI sayI can trust thee by ship toItalywhich being by all accounts the very stronghold of milksopsthou wilt there be safe: they will hear thy wordsand make theetheir duke in a twinkling."

Gerardsighed. "In sooth I love not to think of this Dusseldorfwherewe are to part companygood friend."

Theywalked silentlyeach thinking of the separation at hand; the thoughtchecked trifling conversationand at these moments it is a relief todo somethinghowever insignificant. Gerard asked Denys to lend him abolt. "I have often shot with a long bowbut never with one ofthese!"

"Drawthy knife and cut this one out of the cub" said Denys slily.

"NayDayI want a clean one."

Denysgave him three out of his quiver.

Gerardstrung the bowand levelled it at a bough that had fallen into theroad at some distance. The power of the instrument surprised him; theshort but thick steel bow jarred him to the very heel as it went offand the swift steel shaft was invisible in its passage; only the deadleaveswith which November had carpeted the narrow roadflew abouton the other side of the bough.

"Yeaimed a thought too high" said Denys.

"Whata deadly thing! no wonder it is driving out the longbow - to Martin'smuch discontent."

"Aylad" said Denys triumphantly"it gains ground every dayin spite of their laws and their proclamations to keep up the yewenbowbecause forsooth their grandsires shot with itknowing nobetter. You seeGerardwar is not pastime. Men will shoot at theirenemies with the hittingest arm and the killingestnot with thelongest and missingest."

"Thenthese new engines I hear of will put both bows down; for these with apinch of black dustand a leaden balland a child's fingershallslay you Mars and Goliathand the Seven Champions."

"Pooh!pooh!" said Denys warmly; "petrone nor harquebuss shallever put down Sir Arbalest. Whywe can shoot ten times while theyare putting their charcoal and their lead into their leathern smokebelchersand then kindling their matches. All that is too fumblingfor the field of battle; there a soldier's weapon needs be aye readylike his heart."

Gerarddid not answerfor his ear was attracted by a sound behind them. Itwas a peculiar soundtoolike something heavybut not hardrushing softly over the dead leaves. He turned round with some littlecuriosity. A colossal creature was coming down the road at aboutsixty paces' distance.

Helooked at it in a sort of calm stupor at firstbut the next momenthe turned ashy pale.

"Denys!"he cried. "OhGod! Denys!"

Denyswhirled round.

Itwas a bear as big as a cart-horse.

Itwas tearing along with its huge head downrunning on a hot scent.

Thevery moment he saw it Denys said in a sickening whisper-

"THECUB!"

Oh!the concentrated horror of that one wordwhispered hoarselywithdilating eyes! For in that syllable it all flashed upon them bothlike a sudden stroke of lightning in the dark - the bloody trailthemurdered cubthe mother upon themand it. DEATH.

Allthis in a moment of time. The nextshe saw them. Huge as she wasshe seemed to double herself (it was her long hair bristling withrage): she raised her head big as a hull'sher swine-shaped jawsopened wide at themher eyes turned to blood and flameand sherushed upon themscattering the leaves about her like a whirlwind asshe came.

"Shoot!"screamed Denysbut Gerard stood shaking from head to footuseless.

"Shootman! ten thousand devilsshoot! too late! Tree! tree!" and hedropped the cubpushed Gerard across the roadand flew to the firsttree and climbed itGerard the same on his side; and as they fledboth men uttered inhuman howls like savage creatures grazed by death.

Withall their speed one or other would have been torn to fragments at thefoot of his tree; but the bear stopped a moment at the cub.

Withouttaking her bloodshot eyes off those she was huntingshe smelt it allroundand foundhowher Creator only knowsthat it was deadquite dead. She gave a yell such as neither of the hunted ones hadever heardnor dreamed to be in natureand flew after Denys. Shereared and struck at him as he climbed. He was just out of reach.

Instantlyshe seized the treeand with her huge teeth tore a great piece outof it with a crash. Then she reared againdug her claws deep intothe barkand began to mount it slowlybut as surely as a monkey.

Denys'sevil star had led him to a dead treea mere shaftand of no verygreat height. He climbed faster than his pursuerand was soon at thetop. He looked this way and that for some bough of another tree tospring to. There was none; and if he jumped downhe knew the bearwould be upon him ere he could recover the falland make short workof him. MoreoverDenys was little used to turning his back ondangerand his blood was rising at being hunted. He turned to bay.

"Myhour is come" thought he. "Let me meet death like a man."He kneeled down and grasped a small shoot to steady himselfdrew hislong knifeand clenching his teethprepared to jab the huge bruteas soon as it should mount within reach.

Ofthis combat the result was not doubtful.

Themonster's head and neck were scarce vulnerable for bone and masses ofhair. The man was going to sting the bearand the bear to crack theman like a nut.

Gerard'sheart was better than his nerves. He saw his friend's mortal dangerand passed at once from fear to blindish rage. He slipped down histree in a momentcaught up the crossbowwhich he had dropped in theroadand running furiously upsent a bolt into the bear's body witha loud shout. The bear gave a snarl of rage and painand turned itshead irresolutely.

"Keepaloof!" cried Denys"or you are a dead man."

"Icare not;" and in a moment he had another bolt ready and shot itfiercely into the bearscreaming"Take that! take that!"

Denyspoured a volley of oaths down at him. "Get awayidiot!"

Hewas right: the bear finding so formidable and noisy a foe behind herslipped growling down the treerending deep furrows in it as sheslipped. Gerard ran back to his tree and climbed it swiftly. Butwhile his legs were dangling some eight feet from the groundthebear came rearing and struck with her fore pawand out flew a pieceof bloody cloth from Gerard's hose. He climbedand climbed; andpresently he heard as it were in the air a voice say"Go out onthe bough!" He lookedand there was a long massive branchbefore him shooting upwards at a slight angle: he threw his bodyacross itand by a series of convulsive efforts worked up it to theend.

Thenhe looked round panting.

Thebear was mounting the tree on the other side. He heard her clawsscrapeand saw her bulge on both sides of the massive tree. Her eyenot being very quickshe reached the fork and passed itmountingthe main stem. Gerard drew breath more freely. The bear either heardhimor found by scent she was wrong: she paused; presently shecaught sight of him. She eyed him steadilythen quietly descended tothe fork.

Slowlyand cautiously she stretched out a paw and tried the bough. It was astiff oak branchsound as iron. Instinct taught the creature this:it crawled carefully out on the boughgrowling savagely as it came.

Gerardlooked wildly down. He was forty feet from the ground. Death below.Death moving slow but sure on him in a still more horrible form. Hishair bristled. The sweat poured from him. He sat helplessfascinatedtongue-tied.

Asthe fearful monster crawled growling towards himincongruousthoughts coursed through his mind. Margaret: the Vulgatewhere itspeaks of the rage of a she-bear robbed of her whelps - Rome -Eternity.

Thebear crawled on. And now the stupor of death fell on the doomed man;he saw the open jaws and bloodshot eyes comingbut in a mist.

Asin a mist he heard a twang; he glanced down; Denyswhite and silentas deathwas shooting up at the bear. The bear snarled at the twang.but crawled on. Again the crossbow twangedand the bear snarledandcame nearer. Again the cross bow twanged; and the next moment thebear was close upon Gerardwhere he satwith hair standing stiff onend and eyes starting from their socketspalsied. The bear openedher jaws like a grave. and hot blood spouted from them upon Gerard asfrom a pump. The bough rocked. The wounded monster was reeling; itclungit stuck its sickles of claws deep into the wood; it toppledits claws held firmbut its body rolled offand the sudden shock tothe branch shook Gerard forward on his stomach with his face upon oneof the bear's straining paws. At thisby a convulsive effortsheraised her head upuptill he felt her hot fetid breath. Then hugeteeth snapped together loudly close below him in the airwith a lasteffort of baffled hate. The ponderous carcass rent the claws out ofthe boughthen pounded the earth with a tremendous thump. There wasa shout of triumph belowand the very next instant a cry of dismayfor Gerard had swoonedand without an attempt to save himselfrolled headlong from the perilous height.

 

CHAPTERXXV

Denyscaught at Gerardand somewhat checked his fall; but it may bedoubted whether this alone would have saved him from breaking hisneckor a limb. His best friend now was the dying bearon whosehairy carcass his head and shoulders descended. Denys tore him offher. It was needless. She panted stilland her limbs quiveredbut ahare was not so harmless; and soon she breathed her last; and thejudicious Denys propped Gerard up against herbeing softand fannedhim. He came to by degrees. but confusedand feeling the bear aroundhimrolled awayyelling.

"Courage"cried Denys"le diable est mort."

"Isit dead? quite dead?" inquired Gerard from behind a tree; forhis courage was feverishand the cold fit was on him just nowandhad been for some time.

"Behold"said Denysand pulled the brute's ear playfullyand opened her jawsand put in his headwith other insulting antics; in the midst ofwhich Gerard was violently sick.

Denyslaughed at him.

"Whatis the matter now?" said he"alsowhy tumble off yourperch just when we had won the day?"

"IswoonedI trow."

"Butwhy?"

Notreceiving an answerhe continued"Green girls faint as soon aslook at youbut then they choose time and place. What woman everfainted up a tree?"

"Shesent her nasty blood all over me. I think the smell must haveoverpowered me! Faugh! I hate blood."

"Ido believe it potently."

"Seewhat a mess she has made me

"Butwith her bloodnot yours. I pity the enemy that strives to satisfyyou."'

"Youneed not to bragMaitre Denys; I saw you under the treethe colourof your shirt."

"Letus distinguish" said Denyscolouring; "it is permitted totremble for a friend."

Gerardfor answerflung his arms round Denys's neck in silence.

"Lookhere" whined the stout soldieraffected by this little gush ofnature and youth"was ever aught so like a woman? I love theelittle milksop - go to. Good! behold him on his knees now. What newcaprice is this?"

"OhDenysought we not to return thanks to Him who has saved both ourlives against such fearful odds?" And Gerard kneeledand prayedaloud. And presently he found Denys kneeling quiet beside himwithhis hands across his bosom after the custom of his nationand a faceas long as his arm. When they roseGerard's countenance was beaming.

"GoodDenys" said he"Heaven will reward thy piety."

"Ahbah! I did it out of politeness" said the Frenchman. "Itwas to please theelittle one. "C'est egal: 'twas well andorderly prayedand edified me to the core while it lasted. A bishophad scarce handled the matter better; so now our evensong being sungand the saints enlisted with us - marchons."

Erethey had taken two stepshe stopped. "By-the-bythe cub!"

"Ohnono!" cried Gerard.

"Youare right. It is late. We have lost time climbing treesand tumblingoff 'emand swooningand vomitingand praying; and the brute isheavy to carry. And now I think on'twe shall have papa after itnext; these bears make such a coil about an odd cub. What is this?you are wounded! you are wounded!"

"NotI."

"Heis wounded; miserable that I am!"

"BecalmDenys. I am not touched; I feel no pain anywhere."

"You?you only feel when another is hurt" cried Denyswith greatemotion; and throwing himself on his kneeshe examined Gerard's legwith glistening eyes.

"Quick!quick! before it stiffens" he criedand hurried him on.

"Whomakes the coil about nothing now?" inquired Gerard composedly.

Denys'sreply was a very indirect one.

"Bepleased to note" said he"that I have a bad heart. Youwere man enough to save my lifeyet I must sneer at youa novice inwar. Was not I a novice once myself? Then you fainted from a woundand I thought you swooned for fearand called you a milksop.BrieflyI have a bad tongue and a bad heart."

"Denys!"

"Plait-il?"

"Youlie."

"Youare very good to say solittle oneand I am eternally obliged toyou" mumbled the remorseful Denys.

Erethey had walked many furlongsthe muscles of the wounded legcontracted and stiffenedtill presently Gerard could only just puthis toe to the groundand that with great pain.

Atlast he could bear it no longer.

"Letme lie down and die" he groaned"for this isintolerable."

Denysrepresented that it was afternoonand the nights were now frosty;and cold and hunger ill companions; and that it would be unreasonableto lose hearta certain great personage being notoriously defunct.So Gerard leaned upon his axeand hobbled on; but presently he gaveinall of a suddenand sank helpless in the road.

Denysdrew him aside into the woodand to his surprise gave him hiscrossbow and boltsenjoining him strictly to lie quietand if anyill-looking fellows should find him out and come to himto bid themkeep aloof; and should they refuseto shoot them dead at twentypaces. "Honest men keep the path; andknaves in a woodnonebut fools do parley with them." With this he snatched upGerard's axeand set off running - notas Gerard expectedtowardsDusseldorfbut on the road they had come.

Gerardlay aching and smarting; and to him Romethat seemed so near atstartinglooked farfar offnow that he was two hundred milesnearer it. But soon all his thoughts turned Sevenbergen-wards. Howsweet it would be one day to hold Margaret's handand tell her allhe had gone through for her! The very thought of itand hersoothedhim; and in the midst of pain and irritation of the nerves be layresignedand sweetlythough faintlysmiling.

Hehad lain thus more than two hourswhen suddenly there were shouts;and the next moment something struck a tree hard byand quivered init.

Helookedit was an arrow.

Hestarted to his feet. Several missiles rattled among the boughsandthe wood echoed with battle-cries. Whence they came he could nottellfor noises in these huge woods are so reverberatedthat astranger is always at fault as to their whereabout; but they seemedto fill the whole air. Presently there was a lull; then he heard thefierce galloping of hoofs; and still louder shouts and cries arosemingled with shrieks and groans; and above allstrange and terriblesoundslike fierce claps of thunderbellowing loudand then dyingoff in cracking echoes; and red tongues of flame shot out ever andanon among the treesand clouds of sulphurous smoke came driftingover his head. And all was still.

Gerardwas struck with awe. "What will become of Denys?" he cried."Ohwhy did you leave me? OhDenysmy friend! my friend!"

Justbefore sunset Denys returnedalmost sinking under a hairy bundle. Itwas the bear's skin.

Gerardwelcomed him with a burst of joy that astonished him.

"Ithought never to see you againdear Denys. Were you in the battle?"

"No.What battle?"

"Thebloody battle of menor fiendsthat raged in the wood a whileagone;" and with this he described it to the lifeand morefully than I have done.

Denyspatted him indulgently on the back.

"Itis well" said he; "thou art a good limner; and fever is agreat spur to the imagination. One day I lay in a cart-shed with acracked skulland saw two hosts manoeuvre and fight a good hour oneight feet squarethe which I did fairly describe to my comrade indue orderonly not so gorgeously as thoufor want of book learning.

"Whatthenyou believe me not? when I tell you the arrows whizzed over myheadand the combatants shoutedand - "

"Maythe foul fiends fly away with me if I believe a word of it."

Gerardtook his armand quietly pointed to a tree close by.

"Whyit looks like - it is-a broad arrowas I live!" And he wentcloseand looked up at it.

"Itcame out of the battle. I heard itand saw it."

"AnEnglish arrow."

"Howknow you that?"

"Marryby its length. The English bowmen draw the bow to the earothersonly to the right breast. Hence the English loose a three-foot shaftand this is one of themperdition seize them! Wellif this is notglamourthere has been a trifle of a battle. And if there has been abattle in so ridiculous a place for a battle as thiswhy then 'tisno business of minefor my Duke hath no quarrel hereabouts. So let'sto bed" said the professional. And with this he scrapedtogether a heap of leavesand made Gerard lie on ithis axe by hisside. He then lay down beside himwith one hand on his arbalestanddrew the bear-skin over themhair inward. They were soon as warm astoastand fast asleep.

Butlong before the dawn Gerard woke his comrade.

"Whatshall I doDenysI die of famine?"

"Do?why. go to sleep again incontinent: qui dort dine."

"ButI tell you I am too hungry to sleep" snapped Gerard.

"Letus marchthen" replied Denyswith paternal indulgence.

Hehad a brief paroxysm of yawns; then made a small bundle of bears'earsrolling them up in a strip of the skincut for the purpose;and they took the road.

Gerardleaned on his axeand propped by Denys on the other sidehobbledalongnot without sighs.

"Ihate pain." said Gerard viciously.

"Thereinyou show judgment" replied papa smoothly.

Itwas a clear starlight night; and soon the moon rising revealed theend of the wood at no great distance: a pleasant sightsinceDusseldorf they knew was but a short league further.

Atthe edge of the wood they came upon something so mysterious that theystopped to gaze at itbefore going up to it. Two white pillars rosein the airdistant a few paces from each other; and between themstood many figuresthat looked like human forms.

"Igo no farther till I know what this is" said Gerardin anagitated whisper. "Are they effigies of the saintsfor men topray to on the road? or live robbers waiting to shoot down honesttravellers? Nayliving men they cannot befor they stand on nothingthat I see. Oh! Denyslet us turn back till daybreak; this is nomortal sight."

Denyshaltedand peered long and keenly. "They are men" saidheat last. Gerard was for turning back all the more. "But menthat will never hurt usnor we them. Look not to their feetforthat they stand on!"

"Wheretheni' the name of all the saints?"

"Lookover their heads" said Denys gravely.

Followingthis directionGerard presently discerned the outline of a darkwooden beam passing from pillar to pillar; and as the pair gotnearerwalking now on tiptoeone by one dark snake-like cords cameout in the moonlighteach pendent from the beam to a dead manandtight as wire.

Nowas they came under this awful monument of crime and wholesalevengeance a light air swept byand several of the corpses swungorgently gyrated. and every rope creaked. Gerard shuddered at thisghastly salute. So thoroughly had the gibbetwith its sickeningloadseized and held their eyesthat it was but now they perceiveda fire right underneathand a living figure sitting huddled over it.His axe lay beside himthe bright blade shining red in the glow. Hewas asleep.

Gerardstartedbut Denys only whispered"couragecomradehere is afire."

"Ay!but there is a man at it."

"Therewill soon be three;" and he began to heap some wood on it thatthe watcher had prepared; during which the prudent Gerard seized theman's axeand sat down tight on itgrasping his ownand examiningthe sleeper. There was nothing outwardly distinctive in the man. Hewore the dress of the country folkand the hat of the districtathree-cornered hat called a Brunswickerstiff enough to turn a swordcutand with a thick brass hat-band. The weight of the whole thinghad turned his ears entirely downlike a fancy rabbit's in ourcentury; but even thisthough it spoiled him as a manwas nothingremarkable. They had of late met scores of these dog's-eared rustics.The peculiarity wasthis clown watching under a laden gallows. Whatfor?

Denysif he felt curiouswould not show it; he took out two bears' earsfrom his bundleand running sticks through thembegan to toastthem. "'Twill be eating coined money" said he; "forthe burgomaster of Dusseldorf had given us a rix-dollar for theseearsas proving the death of their owners; but better a lean pursethan a lere stomach."

"Unhappyman!" cried Gerard"could you eat food here?"

"Wherethe fire is lighted there must the meat roastand where it roaststhere must it be eaten; for nought travels worse than your roastedmeat."

"Welleat thouDenysan thou canst! but I am cold and sick; there is noroom for hunger in my heart after what mine eyes have seen" andhe shuddered over the fire. "Oh! how they creak! and who is thismanI wonder? what an ill-favoured churl!"

Denysexamined him like a connoisseur looking at a pictureand in duecourse delivered judgment. "I take him to be of the refuse ofthat companywhereof these (pointing carelessly upward) were thecreamand so ran their heads into danger.

"Atthat ratewhy not stun him before he wakes?" and Gerardfidgeted where he sat.

Denysopened his eyes with humorous surprise. "For one who sets up fora milksop you have the readiest hand. Why should two stun one? tush!he wakes: note now what he says at wakingand tell me."

Theselast words were hardly whispered when the watcher opened his eyes. Atsight of the fire made upand two strangers eyeing him keenlyhestaredand there was a severe and pretty successful effort to becalm; still a perceptible tremor ran all over him. Soon he mannedhimselfand said gruffly. "Good morrow. But at the very momentof saying it he missed his axeand saw how Gerard was sitting uponitwith his own laid ready to his hand. He lost countenance againdirectly. Denys smiled grimly at this bit of byplay.

"Goodmorrow!" said Gerard quietly. keeping his eye on him.

Thewatcher was now too ill at ease to be silent. "You make freewith my fire" said he; but he added in a somewhat falteringvoice"you are welcome."

Denyswhispered Gerard. The watcher eyed them askant.

"Mycomrade says. sith we share your fireyou shall share his meat."

"Sobe it" said the man warmly. "I have half a kid hanging ona bush hard byI'll go fetch it;" and he arose with a cheerfuland obliging countenanceand was retiring.

Denyscaught up his crossbowand levelled it at his head. The man fell onhis knees.

Denyslowered his weaponand pointed him back to his place. He rose andwent back slowly and unsteadilylike one disjointed; and sick atheart as the mousethat the cat lets go a little wayand then dartsand replaces.

"Sitdownfriend" said Denys grimlyin French.

Theman obeyed finger and tonethough he knew not a word of French.

"Tellhim the fire is not big enough for more than thee. He will take mymeaning."

Thisbeing communicated by Gerardthe man grinned; ever since Denys spokehe had seemed greatly relieved. "I wist not ye were strangers"said he to Gerard.

Denyscut a piece of bear's earand offered it with grace to him he hadjust levelled crossbow at.

Hetook it calmlyand drew a piece of bread from his walletanddivided it with the pair. Naymorehe winked and thrust his handinto the heap of leaves he sat on (Gerard grasped his axe ready tobrain him) and produced a leathern bottle holding full two gallons.He put it to his mouthand drank their healthsthen handed it toGerard; he passed it untouched to Denys.

"Mortde ma vie!" cried the soldier"it is Rhenish wineand fitfor the gullet of an archbishop. Here's to theethou prince of goodfellowswishing thee a short life and a merry one! ComeGerardsup! sup! Pshawnever heed themman! they heed not thee. Nathelessdid I hang over such a skin of Rhenish as thisand three churls satbeneath a drinking it and offered me not a dropI'd soon be downamong them."

"Denys!Denys!"

"Myspirit would cut the cordand womp would come my body amongst yewith a hand on the bottleand one eye winkingt'other."

Gerardstarted up with a cry of horror and his fingers to his earsand wasrunning from the placewhen his eye fell on the watcher's axe. Thetangible danger brought him back. He sat down again on the axe withhis fingers in his ears.

"Couragel'amile diable est mort!" shouted Denys gailyand offered hima piece of bear's earput it right under his nose as he stopped hisears. Gerard turned his head away with loathing.

"Wine!"he gasped. "Heaven knows I have much need of itwith suchcompanions as thee and - "

Hetook a long draught of the Rhenish wine: it ran glowing through hisveinsand warmed and strengthened his heartbut could not check histremors whenever a gust of wind came. As for Denys and the otherthey feasted recklesslyand plied the bottle unceasinglyand drankhealths and caroused beneath that creaking sepulchre and its ghastlytenants.

"Askhim how they came here" said Denyswith his mouth fullandpointing up without looking.

Onthis question being interpreted to the watcherhe replied thattreason had been their enddiabolical treason and priest- craft. Hethenbeing rendered communicative by drinkdelivered a long prosynarrativethe purport of which was as follows. These honestgentlemen who now dangled here so miserably were all stout men andtrueand lived in the forest by their wits. Their independence andthriving state excited the jealousy and hatred of a large portion ofmankindand many attempts were made on their lives and liberties;these the Virgin and their patron saintscoupled with theirindividual skill and courage constantly baffled. But yester eve aparty of merchants came slowly on their mules from Dusseldorf. Thehonest men saw them crawlingand let them penetrate near a leagueinto the forestthen set upon them to make them disgorge a portionof their ill-gotten gains. But alas! the merchants were no merchantsat allbut soldiers of more than one nationin the pay of theArchbishop of Cologne; haubergeons had they beneath their gownsandweapons of all sorts at hand; nathelessthe honest men foughtstoutlyand pressed the traitors hardwhen lo! horsementhat hadbeen planted in ambush many hours beforegalloped upand with thesenew diabolical engines of warshot leaden bulletsand laid many anhonest fellow lowand so quelled the courage of others that theyyielded them prisoners. These being taken red-handedthe victorswho with malice inconceivable had brought cords knotted round theirwaistsdid speedily hangand by their side the dead onesto makethe gallanter show. "That one at the end was the captain. Henever felt the cord. He was riddled with broad arrows and leadenballs or ever they could take him: a worthy man as ever cried'Standand deliver!' but a little hastynot much: stay! I forgot; he isdead. Very hastyand obstinate as a pig. That one in the -buffjerkin is the lieutenantas good a soul as ever lived: he was hangedalive. This one hereI never could abide; no (not that one; that isConradmy bosom friend); I mean this one right overhead in thechicken-toed shoon; you were always carrying talesye thiefandmaking mischief; you know you were; andsirsI am a man that wouldrather live united in a coppice than in a forest with backbiters andtale-bearers: strangersI drink to you." And so he went downthe whole stringindicating with the neck of the bottlelike ashowman with his poleand giving a neat description of eachwhichthough pithy was invariably false; for the showman had no real eyefor characterand had misunderstood every one of these people.

"Enoughpalaver!" cried Denys. "Marchons! Give me his axe: now tellhim he must help you along."

Theman's countenance fellbut he saw in Denys's eye that resistancewould be dangerous; he submitted. Gerard it was who objected. Hesaid"Y pensez-vous? to put my hand on a thiefit maketh myflesh creep."

"Childishness!all trades must live. BesidesI have my reasons. Be not you wiserthan your elder."

"No.Only if I am to lean on him I must have my hand in my bosomstillgrasping the haft of my knife."

"Itis a new attitude to walk in; but please thyself."

Andin that strange and mixed attitude of tender offices and deadlysuspicion the trio did walk. I wish I could draw them - I would nottrust to the pen.

Thelight of the watch-tower at Dusseldorf was visible as soon as theycleared the woodand cheered Gerard. Whenafter an hour's marchthe black outline of the tower itself and other buildings stood outclear to the eyetheir companion halted and said gloomily"Youmay as well slay me out of hand as take me any nearer the gates ofDusseldorf town."

Onthis being communicated to Denyshe said at once"Let him gothenfor in sooth his neck will be in jeopardy if he wends muchfurther with us." Gerard acquiesced as a matter of course. Hishorror of a criminal did not in the least dispose him to activeco-operation with the law. But the fact isthat at this epoch noprivate citizen in any part of Europe ever meddled with criminals butin self-defenceexceptby-the-byin Englandwhichbehind othernations in some thingswas centuries before them all in this.

Theman's personal liberty being restoredhe asked for his axe. It wasgiven him. To the friends' surprise he still lingered. Was he to havenothing for coming so far out of his way with them?

"Hereare two batzenfriend.

"Addthe winethe good Rhenish?"

"Didyou give aught for it?"

"Ay!the peril of my life."

"Hum!what say youDenys?"

"Isay it was worth its weight in gold. Hereladhere be silvergroshenone for every acorn on that gallows tree; and here is onemore for theewho wilt doubtless be there in due season."

Theman took the coinsbut still lingered.

"Well!what now?" cried Gerardwho thought him shamefully overpaidalready. "Dost seek the hide off our bones?"

"Naygood sirsbut you have seen to-night how parlous a life is mine. Yebe true menand your prayers avail; give me then a small trifle of aprayeran't please you; for I know not one."

Gerard'scholer began to rise at the egotistical rogue; moreoverever sincehis wound he had felt gusts of irritability. Howeverhe bit his lipand said"There go two words to that bargain; tell me firstisit true what men say of you Rhenish thievesthat ye do murderinnocent and unresisting travellers as well as rob them?"

Theother answered sulkily"They you call thieves are not to blamefor that; the fault lies with the law."

"Gramercy!so 'tis the law's fault that ill men break it?"

"Imean not so; but the law in this land slays an honest man an if he dobut steal. What follows? he would be pitifulbut is discouragedherefrom; pity gains him no pityand doubles his peril: an he butcut a purse his life is forfeit; therefore cutteth he the throat tobootto save his own neck: dead men tell no tales. Pray then for thepoor soul who by bloody laws is driven to kill or else beslaughtered; were there less of this unreasonable gibbeting on thehighroadthere should be less enforced cutting of throats in darkwoodsmy masters."

"Fewerwords had served" replied Gerard coldly. "I asked aquestionI am answered" and suddenly doffing his bonnet -

"'ObsecroDeum omnipotentemutqua cruce jam pendent isti quindecim latronesfures et homicidaein ea homicida fur et latro tu pependeris quamcitissimepro publica salutein honorem justi Dei cui sit gloriain aeternumAmen.'"

"Andso good day."

Thegreedy outlaw was satisfied last. "That is Latin" hemuttered"and more than I bargained for." So indeed itwas.

Andhe returned to his business with a mind at ease. The friends ponderedin silence the many events of the last few hours.

Atlast Gerard said thoughtfully"That she-bear saved both ourlives-by God's will."

"Likeenough" replied Denys; "and talking of thatit was luckywe did not dawdle over our supper."

"Whatmean you?"

"Imean they are not all hanged; I saw a refuse of seven or eight asblack as ink around our fire."

"When?when?"

"Erewe had left it five minutes."

"Goodheavens! and you said not a word."

"Itwould but have worried youand had set our friend a looking backand mayhap tempted him to get his skull split. All other danger wasover; they could not see uswe were out of the moonshineandindeedjust turning a corner. Ah! there is the sun; and here are thegates of Dusseldorf. Couragel'amile diable est mort!"

"Myhead! my head!" was all poor Gerard could reply.

Somany shocksemotionsperilshorrorsadded to the woundhisfirsthad tried his youthful body and sensitive nature too severely.

Itwas noon of the same day.

Ina bedroom of "The Silver Lion" the rugged Denys satanxiouswatching his young friend.

Andhe lay raging with feverdelirious at intervalsand one word forever on his lips.

"Margaret!- Margaret Margaret!"

 

CHAPTERXXVI

Itwas the afternoon of the next day. Gerard was no longer lightheadedbut very irritable and full of fancies; and in one of these he beggedDenys to get him a lemon to suck. Denyswho from a rough soldier hadbeen turned by tender friendship into a kind of grandfathergot uphastilyand bidding him set his mind at ease"lemons he shouldhave in the twinkling of a quart pot" went and ransacked theshops for them.

Theywere not so common in the North as they are nowand he was absent along whileand Gerard getting very impatientwhen at last the dooropened. But it was not Denys. Entered softly an imposing figure; anold gentleman in a long sober gown trimmed with rich furcherry-coloured hoseand pointed shoeswith a sword by his side ina morocco scabbarda ruff round his neck not only starched severelybut treacherously stiffened in furrows by rebatoesor a littlehidden framework of wood; and on his head a four-cornered cap with afur border; on his chin and bosom a majestic white beard. Gerard wasin no doubt as to the vocation of his visitorforthe swordexceptedthis was familiar to him as the full dress of a physician.Moreovera boy followed at his heels with a basketwhere phialslintand surgical tools rather courted than shunned observation. Theold gentleman came softly to the bedsideand said mildly and sottovoce"How is't with theemy son?"

Gerardanswered gratefully that his wound gave him little pain now; but histhroat was parchedand his head heavy.

"Awound! they told me not of that. Let me see it. Ayaya good cleanbite. The mastiff had sound teeth that took this outI warrant me;"and the good doctor's sympathy seemed to run off to the quadruped hehad conjuredhis jackal.

"Thismust be cauterized forthwithor we shall have you starting back fromwaterand turning somersaults in bed under our hands. 'Tis the yearfor raving cursand one hath done your business; but we will bafflehim yet. Urchingo heat thine iron."

"Butsir" edged in Gerard"'twas no dogbut a bear."

"Abear! Young man" remonstrated the senior severely"thinkwhat you say; 'tis ill jesting with the man of art who brings hisgrey hairs and long study to heal you. A bearquotha! Had youdissected as many bears as Ior the titheand drawn their teeth tokeep your hand inyou would know that no bear's jaw ever made thisfoolish trifling wound. I tell you 'twas a dogand since you put meto itI even deny that it was a dog of magnitudebut neither morenor less than one of these little furious curs that are so rifeandrun deviousbiting each manly legand laying its wearer lowbutfor me and my learned brethrenwho still stay the mischief withknife and cautery."

"Alassir! when said I 'twas a bear's jaw? I said'A bear:' it was hispawnow."

"Andwhy didst not tell me that at once?"

"Becauseyou kept telling me instead."

"Neverconceal aught from your leechyoung man" continued the seniorwho was a good talkerbut one of the worst listeners in Europe."Wellit is an ill business. All the horny excrescences ofanimalsto witclaws of tigerspanthersbadgerscatsbearsandthe likeand horn of deerand nails of humansespecially childrenare imbued with direst poison. Y'had better have been bitten by acurwhatever you may saythan gored by bull or stagor scratchedby bear. Howevershalt have a good biting cataplasm for thy leg;meantime keep we the body cool: put out thy tongue!-good!-fever. Letme feel thy pulse: good! - fever. I ordain flebotomyand on theinstant."

"Flebotomy!that is bloodletting: humph! Wellno matterif 'tis sure to curemefor I will not lie idle here." The doctor let him know thatflebotomy was infallibleespecially in this case.

"Hansgo fetch the things needfuland I will entertain the patientmeantime with reasons."

Theman of art then explained to Gerard that in disease the blood becomeshot and distempered and more or less poisonous; but a portion of thisunhealthy liquid removedNature is fain to create a purer fluid tofill its place. Bleedingthereforebeing both a cooler and apurifierwas a specific in all diseasesfor all diseases werefebrilewhatever empirics might say.

"Butthink not" said he warmly"that it suffices to bleed; anypaltry barber can open a vein (though not all can close it again).The art is to know what vein to empty for what disease. T'other daythey brought me one tormented with earache. I let him blood in theright thighand away flew his earache. By-the-byhe has died sincethen. Another came with the toothache. I bled him behind the earandrelieved him in a jiffy. He is also since dead as it happens. I bledour bailiff between the thumb and forefinger for rheumatism.Presently he comes to me with a headache and drumming in the earsand holds out his hand over the basin; but I smiled at his follyandbled him in the left ankle sore against his willand made his headas light as a nut."

Divergingthen from the immediate theme after the manner of enthusiaststhereverend teacher proceeded thus:

"Knowyoung manthat two schools of art contend at this moment throughoutEurope. The Arabianwhose ancient oracles are AvicennaRhazesAlbucazis; and its revivers are Chauliac and Lanfranc; and the Greekschoolwhose modern champions are BessarionPlatinusand MarsiliusFicinusbut whose pristine doctors were medicine's very oraclesPhoebusChironAesculapiusand his sons Podalinus and MachaonPythagorasDemocritusPraxagoraswho invented the arteriesandDioctes'qui primus urinae animum dedit.' All these taught orally.Then came Hippocratesthe eighteenth from Aesculapiusand of him wehave manuscripts; to him we owe 'the vital principle.' He alsoinvented the bandageand tapped for water on the chest; and aboveall he dissected; yet only quadrupedsfor the brutal prejudices ofthe pagan vulgar withheld the human body from the knife of science.Him followed Aristotlewho gave us the aortathe largestblood-vessel in the human body."

"Surelysirthe Almighty gave us all that is in our bodiesand notAristotlenor any Grecian man" objected Gerard humbly.

"Child!of course He gave us the thing; but Aristotle did morehe gave usthe name of the thing. But young men will still be talking. The nextgreat light was Galen; he studied at Alexandriathen the home ofscience. Hejustly malcontent with quadrupedsdissected apesascoming nearer to manand bled like a Trojan. Then came Theophiluswho gave us the nervesthe lacteal vesselsand the pia mater."

Thisworried Gerard. "I cannot lie still and hear it said that mortalman bestowed the parts which Adam our father took from Himwho madehim of the clayand us his sons."

"Wasever such perversity?" said the doctorhis colour rising. "Whois the real donor of a thing to man? he who plants it secretly in thedark recesses of man's bodyor the learned wight who reveals it tohis intelligenceand so enriches his mind with the knowledge of it?Comprehension is your only true possession. Are you answered?"

"Iam put to silencesir."

"Andthat is better still; for garrulous patients are ill to cureespecially in fever; I saythenthat Eristratus gave us thecerebral nerves and the milk vessels; naymorehe was the inventorof lithotomywhatever you may say. Then came another whom I forget;you do somewhat perturb me with your petty exceptions. Then cameAmmoniusthe author of lithotrityand here comes Hans with thebasin-to stay your volubility. Blow thy chaferboyand hand me thebasin; 'tis well. Arabiansquotha! What are they but a sect ofyesterday who about the year 1000 did fall in with the writings ofthose very Greeksand read them awryhaving no concurrent light oftheir own? for their demigodand camel-driverMahoundimpostor inscience as in religionhad strictly forbidden them anatomyeven ofthe lower animalsthe which he who severeth from medicine'tollitsolem e mundo' as Tully quoth. Naywonder not at my fervourgoodyouth; where the general weal stands in jeopardya little warmth iscivichumaneand honourable. Now there is settled of late in thistown a pestilent Arabista mere empiricwhodespising anatomyandscarce knowing Greek from Hebrewhath yet spirited away half mypatients; and I tremble for the rest. Put forth thine ankle; andthouHansbreathe on the chafer."

Whilstmatters were in this posturein came Denys with the lemonsandstood surprised. "What sport is toward?" said heraisinghis brows.

Gerardcoloured a littleand told him the learned doctor was going toflebotomize him and cauterize him; that was all.

"Ay!indeed; and yon impwhat bloweth he hot coals for?"

"Whatshould it be for" said the doctor to Gerard"but tocauterize the vein when opened and the poisonous blood let free? 'Tisthe only safe way. Avicenna indeed recommends a ligature of the vein;but how 'tis to be done he saith notnor knew he himself I wotnorany of the spawn of Ishmael. For meI have no faith in such tricksyexpedients; and take this with you for a safe principle: 'Whatever anArab or Arabist says is rightmust be wrong.'"

"ohI see now what 'tis for" said Denys; "and art thou sosimple as to let him put hot iron to thy living flesh? didst everkeep thy little finger but ten moments in a candle? and this will beas many minutes. Art not content to burn in purgatory after thydeath? must thou needs buy a foretaste on't here?"

"Inever thought of that" said Gerard gravely; "the gooddoctor spake not of burningbut of cautery; to be sure 'tis all onebut cautery sounds not so fearful as burning."

"Imbecile!That is their art; to confound a plain man with dark wordstill hishissing flesh lets him know their meaning. Now listen to what I haveseen. When a soldier bleeds from a wound in battlethese leechessay'Fever. Blood him!' and so they burn the wick at t'other endtoo. They bleed the bled. Now at fever's heels comes desperateweakness; then the man needs all his blood to live; but theseprickers and burnershaving no forethoughtrecking nought of whatis sure to come in a few hoursand seeing like brute beasts onlywhat is under their noseshaving meantime robbed him of the veryblood his hurt had spared him to battle that weakness withal; and sohe dies exhausted. Hundreds have I seen so scratched and pricked outof the worldGerardand tall fellows too; but lo! if they have theluck to be wounded where no doctor can be hadthen they live; thistoo have I seen. Had I ever outlived that field in Brabant but for mymost lucky mischancelack of chirurgery? The frost chocked all mybleeding woundsand so I lived. A chirurgeon had pricked yet onemore hole in this my body with his lanceand drained my last dropoutand my spirit with it. Seeing them thus distraught in bleedingof the bleeding soldierI place no trust in them; for what slays aveteran may well lay a milk-and-water bourgeois low."

"Thissounds like common sense" sighed Gerard languidly"but noneed to raise your voice so; I was not born deafand just now I hearacutely."

"Commonsense! very common sense indeed" shouted the bad listener;"whythis is a soldier; a brute whose business is to kill mennot cure them." He added in very tolerable French"Woe beto youunlearned manif you come between a physician and hispatient; and woe be to youmisguided youthif you listen to thatman of blood."

"Muchobliged" said Denyswith mock politeness; "but I am atrue manand would rob no man of his name. I do somewhat in the wayof bloodbut not worth mention in this presence. For one I slayyouslay a score; and for one spoonful of blood I drawyou spill atubful. The world is still gulled by shows. We soldiers vapour withlong swordsand even in war be-get two foes for every one we kill;but you smooth gownsmenwith soft phrases and bare bodkins'tis youthat thin mankind."

"Asick chamber is no place for jesting" cried the physician.

"Nodoctornor for bawling" said the patient peevishly.

"Comeyoung man" said the senior kindly"be reasonable.Cuilibet in sua arte credendum est. My whole life has been given tothis art. I studied at Montpelier; the first school in Franceand byconsequence in Europe. There learned I DririmancyScatomancyPathologyTherapeusisandgreater than them allAnatomy. Forthere we disciples of Hippocrates and Galen had opportunities thosegreat ancients never knew. Goodbyequadrupeds and apesandpaganismand Mohammedanism; we bought of the churchwardenswe shookthe gallows; we undid the sexton's work of dark nightspenetratedwith love of science and our kind; all the authorities had theirorders from Paris to wink; and they winked. Gods of Olympushow theywinked! The gracious king assisted us: he sent us twice a year aliving criminal condemned to dieand said'Deal ye with him asscience asks; dissect him aliveif ye think fit.'"

"Bythe liver of Herodand Nero's bowelshe'll make me blush for theland that bore mean' if he praises it any more" shouted Denysat the top of his voice.

Gerardgave a little squawkand put his fingers in his ears; but speedilydrew them out and shouted angrilyand as loudly"you greatroaringblaspheming bull of Basanhold your noisy tongue!"

Denyssummoned a contrite look.

"Tushslight man" said the doctorwith calm contemptand vibrated ahand over him as in this age men make a pointer dog down charge; thenflowed majestic on. "We seldom or never dissected the livingcriminalexcept in part. We mostly inoculated them with suchdiseases as the barren time affordedselecting of course the moreinteresting ones."

"Thatmeans the foulest" whispered Denys meekly.

"Thesewe watched through all their stages to maturity."

"Meaningthe death of the poor rogue" whispered Denys meekly.

"Andnowmy poor suffererwho best merits your confidencethis honestsoldier with his youthhis ignoranceand his prejudicesor agreybeard laden with the gathered wisdom of ages

"Thatis" cried Denys impatiently"will you believe what ajackdaw' in a long gown has heard from a starling in a long gownwhoheard it from a jay-piewho heard it from a magpiewho heard itfrom a popinjay; or will you believe what Ia man with nought togain by looking awrynor speaking falsehave seen; nor heard withthe ears which are given us to gull usbut seen with these sentinelsmine eyeseenseen; to witthat fevered and blooded men diethatfevered men not blooded live? staywho sent for this sang-sue? Didyou?"

"NotI. I thought you had."

"Nay"explained the doctor"the good landlord told me one was 'down'in his house; so I said to myself'A strangerand in need of myart' and came incontinently."

"Itwas the act of a good Christiansir."

"ofa good bloodhound" cried Denys contemptuously. "Whatartthou so green as not to know that all these landlords are in leaguewith certain of their fellow-citizenswho pay them toll on eachbooty? Whatever you pay this ancient for stealing your life bloodofthat the landlord takes his third for betraying you to him. Naymoreas soon as ever your blood goes down the stair in that basintherethe landlord will see it or smell itand send swiftly to hisundertaker and get his third out of that job. For if he waited tillthe doctor got downstairsthe doctor would be beforehand and bespeakhis undertakerand then he would get the black thirds. Say I soothold Rouge et Noir? dites!"

"DenysDenyswho taught you to think so ill of man?"

"Mineeyesthat are not to be gulled by what men sayseeing this many ayear what they doin all the lands I travel."

Thedoctor with some address made use of these last words to escape thepersonal question. "I too have eyes as well as thouand go notby tradition onlybut by what I have seenand not only seenbutdone. I have healed as many men by bleeding as that interlopingArabist has killed for want of it. 'Twas but t'other day I healed onethreatened with leprosy; I but bled him at the tip of the nose. Icured last year a quartan ague: how? bled its forefinger. Our curelost his memory. I brought it him back on the point of my lance; Ibled him behind the ear. I bled a dolt of a boyand now he is theonly one who can tell his right hand from his left in a whole familyof idiots. When the plague was here years agono sham plaguesuchas empyrics proclaim every six years or sobut the good honestByzantine pestI blooded an alderman freelyand cauterized thesymptomatic buboesand so pulled him out of the grave; whereas ourthen chirurgeona most pernicious Arabistcaught it himselfanddied of itahacalling on RhazesAvicennaand Mahoundwhocouldthey have comehad all perished as miserably as himself."

"Ohmy poor ears" sighed Gerard.

"Andam I fallen so low that one of your presence and speech rejects myart. and listens to a rude soldierso far behind even his ownmiserable trade as to bear an arbalesta worn- out inventionthatGerman children shoot at pigeons withbut German soldiers mock atsince ever arquebusses came and put them down?"

"Youfoul-mouthed old charlatan" cried Denys"the arbalest isshouldered by taller men than ever stood in Rhenish hoseand evennow it kills as many more than your noisystinking arquebusas thelancet does than all our toys together. Go to! He was no fool whofirst called you 'leeches.' Sang-sues! va!"

Gerardgroaned. "By the holy virginI wish you were both at Jerichobellowing.'

"Thankyou comrade. Then I'll bark no morebut at need I'll bite. If he hasa lanceI have a sword; if he bleeds youI'll bleed him. The momenthis lance pricks your skinlittle onemy sword-hilt knocks againsthis ribs; I have said it."

AndDenys turned palefolded his armsand looked gloomy and dangerous.

Gerardsighed wearily. "Nowas all this is about megive me leave tosay a word."

"Ay!let the young man choose life or death for himself."

Gerardthen indirectly rebuked his noisy counsellors by contrast andexample. He spoke with unparalleled calmnesssweetnessandgentleness. And these were the words of Gerard the son of Eli. "Idoubt not you both mean me well; but you assassinate me between you.Calmness and quiet are everything to me; but you are like two dogsgrowling over a bone. "And in soothbone I should bedid thisuproar last long."

Therewas a dead silencebroken only by the silvery voice of Gerardas helay tranquiland gazed calmly at the ceilingand trickled intowords.

"Firstvenerable sirI thank you for coming to see mewhether fromhumanityor in the way of honest gain; all trades must live.

"Yourlearningreverend sirseems greatto me at leastand for yourexperienceyour age voucheth it.

"Yousay you have bled manyand of these manymany have not diedthereafterbut livedand done well. I must needs believe you."

Thephysician bowed; Denys grunted.

"Othersyou sayyou have bledand-they are dead. I must needs believe you.

"Denysknows few things compared with youbut he knows them well. He is aman not given to conjecture. This I myself have noted. He says he hasseen the fevered and blooded for the most part die; the fevered andnot blooded live. I must needs believe him.

"Herethenall is doubt.

"Butthus much is certain; if I be bledI must pay you a feeand beburnt and excruciated with a hot ironwho am no felon.

"Paya certain price in money and anguish for a doubtful remedythat willI never.

"Nextto money and easepeace and quiet are certain goodsabove all in asick-room; but 'twould seem men cannot argue medicine without heatand raised voices; thereforesirI will essay a little sleepandDenys will go forth and gaze on the females of the placeand I willkeep you no longer from those who can afford to lay out blood andmoney in flebotomy and cautery."

Theold physician had naturally a hot temper; he had often during thisbattle of words mastered it with difficultyand now it mastered him.The most dignified course was silence; he saw thisand drew himselfupand made loftily for the doorfollowed close by his little boyand big basket.

Butat the door he chokedhe swelledhe burst. He whirled and came backopen-mouthedand the little boy and big basket had to whisksemicircularly not to be run downfor de minimis non curatMedicina-even when not in a rage.

"Ah!you reject my skillyou scorn my art. My revenge shall be to leaveyou to yourself; lost idiottake your last look at meand at thesun. Your blood be on your head!" And away he stamped.

Buton reaching the door he whirled and came back; his wicker tailtwirling round after him like a cat's.

"Intwelve hours at furthest you will be in the secondary stage of fever.Your head will split. Your carotids will thump. Aha! And let but apin fallyou will jump to the ceiling. Then send for me; and I'llnot come." He departed. But at the door- handle gathered furywheeled and came flyingwith paleterror-stricken boy and wickertail whisking after him. "Next will come - CRAMPS of theSTOMACH. Aha!

"Then- BILIOUS VOMIT. Aha!

"Then- COLD SWEATand DEADLY STUPOR.

"Then- CONFUSION OF ALL THE SENSES.

"Then- BLOODY VOMIT.

"Andafter that nothing can save younot even I; and if I could I wouldnotand so farewell!"

EvenDenys changed colour at threats so fervent and precise; but Gerardonly gnashed his teeth with rage at the noiseand seized his hardbolster with kindling eye.

Thisadded fuel to the fireand brought the insulted ancient back fromthe impassable doorwith his whisking train.

"Andafter that - MADNESS!

"Andafter that - BLACK VOMIT

"Andthen - CONVULSIONS!

"Andthen - THAT CESSATION OF ALL VITAL FUNCTIONS THE VULGAR CALL 'DEATH'for which thank your own Satanic folly and insolence. Farewell."He went. He came. He roared"And think not to be buried in anyChristian church- yard; for the bailiff is my good friendand Ishall tell him how and why you died: felo de se! felo de se!Farewell."

Gerardsprang to his feet on the bed by some supernatural gymnastic powerexcitement lent himand seeing him so movedthe vindictive oratorcame back at him fiercer than everto launch some master-threat theworld has unhappily lost; for as he came with his whisking trainandshaking his fistGerard hurled the bolster furiously in his face andknocked him down like a shotthe boy's head cracked under hisfalling master'sand crash went the dumb-stricken orator into thebasketand there sat wedged in an inverted anglecrushing phialafter phial. The boybeing lightwas strewed afarbut in asquatting posture; so that they sat in a sequencelike graduatedspecimensthe smaller howling. But soon the doctor's face filledwith horrorand he uttered a far louder and unearthly screechandkicked and struggled with wonderful agility for one of his age.

Hewas sitting on the hot coals.

Theyhad singed the cloth and were now biting the man. Struggling wildlybut vainly to get out of the baskethe rolled yelling over with itsidewaysand lo! a great hissing; then the humane Gerard ran andwrenched off the tight basket not without a struggle. The doctor layon his face groaninghandsomely singed with his own chaferandslaked a moment too late by his own villainous compoundswhichhoweverbeing as various and even beautiful in colour as they wereodious in tastehad strangely diversified his grey robeand paintedit more gaudy than neat.

Gerardand Denys raised him up and consoled him. "Courageman'tisbut cautery; balm of Gileadwhyyou recommend it but now to mycomrade here."

Thephysician replied only by a look of concentrated spiteand went outin dead silencethrusting his stomach forth before him in thedrollest way. The boy followed him next moment but in that slightinterval he left off whiningburst into a grinand conveyed to theculprits by an unrefined gesture his accurate comprehension ofandrapturous though compressed joy athis master's disaster.

 

CHAPTERXXVII

THEworthy physician went home and told his housekeeper he was in agonyfrom "a bad burn." Those were the words. For in phlogisticas in other thingswe cauterize our neighbour's digitsbut burn ourown fingers. His housekeeper applied some old women's remedy mild asmilk. He submitted like a lamb to her experience: his sole object inthe case of this patient being cure: meantime he made out his billfor broken phialsand took measures to have the travellersimprisoned at once. He made oath before a magistrate that theybeingstrangers and indebted to himmeditated instant flight from thetownship.

Alas!it was his unlucky day. His sincere desire and honest endeavour toperjure himself were baffled by a circumstance he had never foreseennor indeed thought possible.

Hehad spoken the truth.

AndIN AN AFFIDAVIT!

Theofficerson reaching "The Silver Lionfound the birds wereflown.

Theywent down to the riverand from intelligence they received therestarted up the bank in hot pursuit.

Thistemporary escape the friends owed to Denys's good sense andobservation. After a peal of laughterthat it was a cordial to hearand after venting his watchword three timeshe turned short graveand told Gerard Dusseldorf was no place for them. "That oldfellow" said he"went off unnaturally silent for such ababbler: we are strangers here; the bailiff is his friend: in fiveminutes we shall lie in a dungeon for assaulting a Dusseldorfdignityare you strong enough to hobble to the water's edge? it ishard by. Once there you have but to lie down in a boat instead of abed; and what is the odds?"

"TheoddsDenys? untoldand all in favour of the boat. I pine for Rome;for Rome is my road to Sevenbergen; and then we shall lie in theboatbut ON the Rhinethe famous Rhine; the coolrefreshing Rhine.I feel its breezes coming: the very sight will cure a littlehop-'o-my-thumb fever like mine; away! away!"

Findinghis excitable friend in this moodDenys settled hastily with thelandlordand they hurried to the river. On inquiry they found totheir dismay that the public boat was gone this half hourand noother would start that daybeing afternoon. By dinthoweverofasking a great many questionsand collecting a crowdthey obtainedan offer of a private boat from an old man and his two sons.

Thiswas duly ridiculed by a bystander. "The current is too strongfor three oars."

"Thenmy comrade and I will help row" said the invalid.

"Noneed" said the old man. "Bless your silly hearthe ownst'other boat."

Therewas a powerful breeze right astern; the boatmen set a broad sailandrowing alsowent off at a spanking rate.

"Areye betterladfor the river breeze?"

"Muchbetter. But indeed the doctor did me good."

"Thedoctor? Whyyou would none of his cures."

"Nobut I mean - you will say I am nought - but knocking the old fooldown - somehow - it soothed me."

"Amiabledove! how thy little character opens more and more every daylike arosebud. I read thee all wrong at first."

"NayDenysmistake me notneither. I trust I had borne with his idlethreatsthough in sooth his voice went through my poor ears; but hewas an infidelor next door to oneand such I have been taught toabhor. Did he not as good as saywe owed our inward parts to menwith long Greek namesand not to Himwhose name is but a syllablebut whose hand is over all the earth? Pagan!"

"Soyou knocked him down forthwith - like a good Christian."

"NowDenysyou will still be jesting. Take not an ill man's part. Had itbeen a thunderbolt from Heavenhe had met but his due; yet he tookbut a sorry bolster from this weak arm."

"Whatweak arm?" inquired Denyswith twinkling eyes. "I havelived among armsand by Samson's hairy pow never saw I one more likea catapult. The bolster wrapped round his nose and the two endskissed behind his headand his forehead resoundedand had he beenGoliathor Julius Caesarinstead of an old quacksalverdown he hadgone. St. Denys guard me from such feeble opposites as thou! andabove all from their weak arms -thou diabolical young hypocrite."

Theriver took many turnsand this sometimes brought the wind on theirside instead of right astern. Then they all moved to the weather sideto prevent the boat heeling over too much all but a child of aboutfive years oldthe grandson of the boatmanand his darling; thisurchin had slipped on board at the moment of startingand being toolight to affect the boat's trimwas aboveor rather belowthe lawsof navigation.

Theysailed merrily onlittle conscious that they were pursued by a wholeposse of constables armed with the bailiff's writand that theirpursuers were coming up with them; for if the wind was strongso wasthe current.

Andnow Gerard suddenly remembered that this was a very good way to Romebut not to Burgundy. "OhDenys" said hewith an almostalarmed look"this is not your road."

"Iknow it" said Denys quietly; but what can I do? I cannot leavethee till the fever leaves thee; and it is on thee stillfor thouart both red and white by turns; I have watched thee. I must e'en goon to CologneI doubtand then strike across."

"ThankHeaven" said Gerard joyfully. He added eagerlywith a littletouch of self-deception"'Twere a sin to be so near Cologne andnot see it. Ohmanit is a vast and ancient city such as I haveoften dreamed ofbut ne'er had the good luck to see. Me miserableby what hard fortune do I come to it now? Well thenDenys"continued the young man less warmly"it is old enough to havebeen founded by a Roman lady in the first century of graceandsacked by Attila the barbarousand afterwards sore defaced by theNorman Lothaire. And it has a church for every week in the yearforbye chapels and churches innumerable of convents and nunneriesand above allthe stupendous minster yet unfinishedand thereinbut in their own chapellie the three kings that brought gifts toour LordMelchior goldand Gaspar frankincenseand Balthazar theblack kinghe brought myrrh; and over their bones stands the shrinethe wonder of the world; it is of ever-shining brass brighter thangoldstudded with images fairly wroughtand inlaid with exquisitedevicesand brave with colours; and two broad stripes run to andfroof jewels so greatso rareeach might adorn a crown or ransomits wearer at need; and upon it stand the three kings curiouslycounterfeitedtwo in solid silverrichly gilt; these be bareheaded;but he of Aethiop ebonyand beareth a golden crown; and in the midstour blessed Ladyin virgin silverwith Christ in her arms; and atthe cornersin golden branchesfour goodly waxen tapers do burnnight and day. Holy eyes have watched and renewed that lightunceasingly for agesand holy eyes shall watch them in saecula. Itell theeDenysthe oldest songthe oldest Flemish or Germanlegendfound them burningand they shall light the earth to itsgrave. And there is St. Ursel's churcha British saint'swhere lieher bones and all the other virgins her fellows; eleven thousand werethey who died for the faithbeing put to the sword by barbarousMoorson the twenty-third day of Octobertwo hundred andthirty-eight. Their bones are piled in the vaultsand many of theirskulls are in the church. St. Ursel's is in a thin golden caseandstands on the high altarbut shown to humble Christians only onsolemn days."

"Eleventhousand virgins!" cried Denys. "What babies German menmust have been in days of yore. Wellwould all their bones mightturn flesh againand their skulls sweet facesas we pass throughthe gates. 'Tis odds but some of them are wearied of their estate bythis time."

"TushDenys!" said Gerard; "why wilt thoubeing goodstill makethyself seem evil? If thy wishing-cap be onpray that we may meetthe meanest she of all those wise virgins in the next worldand tothat end let us reverence their holy dust in this one. And then thereis the church of the Maccabeesand the cauldron in which they andtheir mother Solomona were boiled by a wicked king for refusing toeat swine's flesh."

"Ohperemptory king! and pig-headed Maccabees! I had eaten bacon with mypork liever than change places at the fire with my meat."

"Whatscurvy words are these? it was their faith."

"Naybridle thy cholerand tell meare there nought but churches in thisthy so vaunted city? for I affect rather Sir Knight than Sir Priest."

"Aymarrythere is an university near a hundred years old; and there isa market-placeno fairer in the worldand at the four sides of ithouses great as palaces; and there is a stupendous senate-house allcovered with imagesand at the bead of them stands one of stoutHerman Gryna soldier like thyselflad."

"Ay.Tell me of him! what feat of arms earned him his niche?"

"Arare one. He slew a lion in fair combatwith nought but his cloakand a short sword. He thrust the cloak in the brute's mouthand cuthis spine in twainand there is the man's effigy and eke the lion'sto prove it. The like was never done but by three moreI ween;Samson was oneand Lysimachus of Macedon anotherand Benaiahacaptain of David's host."

"Marry!three tall fellows. I would like well to sup with them all to-night."

"Sowould not I" said Gerard drily.

"Buttell me" said Denyswith some surprise"when wast thouin Cologne?"

"Neverbut in the spirit. I prattle with the good monks by the wayand theytell me all the notable things both old and new.

"Ayayhave not I seen your nose under their very cowls? But when Ispeak of matters that are out of sightmy words they are smallandthe thing it was big; now thy words be as big or bigger than thethings; art a good limner with thy tongue; I have said it; and for asaintas ready with handor steelor bolster - as any poor sinnerliving; and soshall I tell thee which of all these things thou hastdescribed draws me to Cologne?"

"AyDenys."

"Thouand thou only; no dead saintbut my living friend and comrade true;'tis thou alone draws Denys of Burgundy to Cologne?"

Gerardhung his head.

Atthis juncture one of the younger boatmen suddenly inquired what wasamiss with "little turnip-face?"

Hisyoung nephew thus described had just come aft grave as a judgeandburst out crying in the midst without more ado. On this phenomenonso sharply definedhe was subjected to many interrogatoriessomecoaxingly utteredsome not. Had he hurt himself? had he over-atehimself? was he frightened? was he cold? was he sick? was he anidiot?

Toall and each he uttered the same replywhich English writers renderthusoh! oh! oh! and French writers thushi! hi! hi! So fixed areFiction's phonetics.

"Whocan tell what ails the peevish brat?" snarled the young boatmanimpatiently. "Rather look this way and tell me whom be theseafter!" The old man and his other son lookedand saw four menwalking along the east bank of the river; at the sight they leftrowing awhileand gathered mysteriously in the sternwhispering andcasting glances alternately at their passengers and the pedestrians.

Thesequel may show they would have employed speculation better in tryingto fathom the turnip-face mystery; I begpardon of my age: I mean"the deep mind of dauntless infancy.

"If'tis as I doubt" whispered one of the young men"why notgive them a squeak for their lives; let us make for the west bank."

Theold man objected stoutly. "What" said he"run ourheads into trouble for strangers! are ye mad? Naylet us rathercross to the east side; still side with the strong arm! that is myrede. What say youWerter?"

"Isayplease yourselves."

Whatage and youth could not decide upona puff of wind settled mostimpartially. Came a squalland the little vessel heeled over; themen jumped to windward to trim her; but to their horror they saw inthe very boat from stem to stern a ditch of water rushing to leewardand the next moment they saw nothingbut felt the Rhinethe coldand rushing Rhine.

"Turnip-face"had drawn the plug.

Theofficers unwound the cords from their waists.

Gerardcould swim like a duck; but the best swimmercanted out of a boatcapsizedmust sink ere he can swim. The dark water bubbled loudlyover his headand then he came up almost blind and deaf for amoment; the nexthe saw the black boat bottom uppermostand figuresclinging to it; he shook his head like a water-dogand made for itby a sort of unthinking imitation; but ere he reached it he heard avoice behind him cry not loud but with deep manly distress"Adieucomradeadieu!"

Helookedand there was poor Denys sinkingsinkingweighed down byhis wretched arbalest. His face was paleand his eyes staring wideand turned despairingly on his dear friend. Gerard uttered a wild cryof love and terrorand made for himcleaving the water madly; butthe next moment Denys was under water.

ThenextGerard was after him.

Theofficers knotted a rope and threw the end in.

 

CHAPTERXXVIII

Thingsgood and evil balance themselves in a remarkable manner and almostuniversally. The steel bow attached to the arbalestrier's backandcarried above his headhad sunk him. That very steel bowowing tothat very positioncould not escape Gerard's handsone of whichgrasped itand the other went between the bow and the cordwhichwas as good. The next momentDenysby means of his crossbowwashoisted with so eager a jerk that half his body bobbed up out ofwater.

"Nowgrip me not! grip me not!" cried Gerardin mortal terror ofthat fatal mistake.

"Passi bete" gurgled Denys.

Seeingthe sort of stuff he had to deal withGerard was hopeful and calmdirectly. "On thy back" said he sharplyand seizing thearbalestand taking a stroke forwardhe aided the desired movement."Hand on my shoulder! slap the water with the other hand! No -with a downward motion; so. Do nothing more than I bid thee."Gerard had got hold of Denys's long hairand twisting it hardcaught the end between his side teethand with the strong muscles ofhis youthful neck easily kept up the soldier's headand struck outlustily across the current. A moment he had hesitated which side tomake forlittle knowing the awful importance of that simpledecision; then seeing the west bank a trifle nearesthe made towardsitinstead of swimming to jail like a good boyand so furnishingone a novel incident. Owing to the force of the current they slantedconsiderablyand when they had covered near a hundred yardsDenysmurmured uneasily"How much more of it?"

"Courage"mumbled Gerard. "Whatever a duck knowsa Dutchman knows; artsafe as in bed."

Thenext momentto their surprisethey found themselves in shallowwaterand so waded ashore. Once on terra firmathey looked at oneanother from head to foot as if eyes could devourthen by oneimpulse flung each an arm round the other's neckand panted therewith hearts too full to speak. And at this sacred moment life wassweet as heaven to both; sweetest perhaps to the poor exiled loverwho had just saved his friend. Ohjoy to whose height what poet hasyet soaredor ever tried to soar? To save a human life; and thatlife a loved one. Such moments are worth living foraythree scoreyears and ten. And thencalmerthey took handsand so walked alongthe bank hand in hand like a pair of sweetheartsscarce knowing orcaring whither they went.

Theboat people were all safe on the late concavenow convex craftHerrTurnip-facethe "Inverter of things" being in the middle.All this fracas seemed not to have essentially deranged his habits.At least he was greeting when he shot our friends into the Rhineandgreeting when they got out again.

"Shallwe wait till they right the boat?"

"NoDenysour fare is paid; we owe them nought. Let us onand briskly."

Denysassentedobserving that they could walk all the way to Cologne onthis bank.

"Ifare not to Cologne" was the calm reply.

"Whywhither then?"

"ToBurgundy."

"ToBurgundy? Ahno! that is too good to be sooth."

"Sooth'tisand sense into the bargain. What matters it to me how I go toRome?"

"Naynay; you but say so to pleasure me. The change is too sudden; andthink me not so ill-hearted as take you at your word. Also did I notsee your eyes sparkle at the wonders of Cologne? the churchestheimagesthe relics

"Howdull art thouDenys; that was when we were to enjoy them together.Churches! I shall see plentygo Rome-ward how I will. The bones ofsaints and martyrs; alas! the world is full of them; but a friendlike theewhere on earth's face shall I find another? NoI will notturn thee farther from the road that leads to thy dear homeand herthat pines for thee. Neither will I rob myself of thee by leavingthee. Since I drew thee out of Rhine I love thee better than I did.Thou art my pearl: I fished thee; and must keep thee. So gainsay menotor thou wilt bring back my fever; but cry courageand lead on;and hey for Burgundy!"

Denysgave a joyful caper. "Courage! va pour la Bourgogne. Oh! soyestranquille! cette fois il est bien decidement mortce coquin-la."And they turned their backs on the Rhine.

Onthis decision making itself clearacross the Rhine there was acommotion in the little party that had been watching the discussionand the friends had not taken many steps ere a voice came to themover the water. "HALT!"

Gerardturnedand saw one of those four holding out a badge of office and aparchment slip. His heart sank; for he was a good citizenand usedto obey the voice that now bade him turn again to Dusseldorf - theLaw's.

Denysdid not share his scruples. He was a Frenchmanand despised everyother nationlawsinmatesand customs included. He was a soldierand took a military view of the situation. Superior force opposed;river between; rear open; why'twas retreat made easy. He saw at aglance that the boat still drifted in mid-streamand there was noferry nearer than Dusseldorf. "I shall beat a quick retreat tothat hill" said he"and thenbeing out of sightquickstep."

Theysauntered off.

"Halt!in the bailiff's name" cried a voice from the shore.

Denysturned round and ostentatiously snapped his fingers at the bailiffand proceeded.

"Halt!in the archbishop's name."

Denyssnapped his fingers at his graceand proceeded.

"Halt!in the emperor's name."

Denyssnapped his fingers at his majestyand proceeded.

Gerardsaw this needless pantomime with regretand as soon as they hadpassed the brow of the hillsaid"There is now but one coursewe must run to Burgundy instead of walking;" and he set offandran the best part of a league without stopping.

Denyswas fairly blownand inquired what on earth had become of Gerard'sfever. "I begin to miss it sadly" said he drily.

"Idropped it in RhineI trow" was the reply.

Presentlythey came to a little villageand here Denys purchased a loaf and ahuge bottle of Rhenish wine. "For" he said"we mustsleep in some hole or corner. If we lie at an innwe shall be takenin our beds." This was no more than common prudence on the oldsoldier's part.

Theofficial network for catching law-breakersespecially plebeian oneswas very close in that age; though the co-operation of the public wasalmost nullat all events upon the Continent. The innkeepers wereeverywhere under close surveillance as to their travellersfor whoseacts they were even in some degree responsiblemore so it would seemthan for their sufferings.

Thefriends were both glad when the sun set; and delightedwhenafter along trudge under the stars (for the moonif I remember rightdidnot rise till about three in the morning) they came to a large barnbelonging to a house at some distance. A quantity of barley had beenlately thrashed; for the heap of straw on one side thethrashing-floor was almost as high as the unthrashed corn on theother.

"Herebe two royal beds" said Denys; "which shall we lie onthemowor the straw?"

"Thestraw for me" said Gerard.

Theysat on the heapand ate their brown breadand drank their wineandthen Denys covered his friend up in strawand heaped it high abovehimleaving him only a breathing hole: "Waterthey sayisdeath to fevered men; I'll make warm water on'tanyhow."

Gerardbade him make his mind easy. "These few drops from Rhine cannotchill me. I feel heat enough in my body now to parch a kennelorboil a cloud if I was in one." And with this epigram hisconsciousness went so rapidlyhe might really be said to "fallasleep."

Denyswho lay awake awhileheard that which made him nestle closer.Horses' hoofs came ringing up from Dusseldorfand the wooden barnvibrated as they rattled past howling in a manner too well known andunderstood in the 15th century. but as unfamiliar in Europe now as ared Indian's war-whoop.

Denysshook where he lay.

Gerardslept like a top.

Itall swept byand troop and howls died away.

Thestout soldier drew a long breathwhistled in a whisperclosed hiseyesand slept like a toptoo.

Inthe morning he sat up and put out his hand to wake Gerard. It lightedon the young man's foreheadand found it quite wet. Denys then inhis quality of nurse forbore to wake him. "It is ill to checksleep or sweat in a sick man" said he. "I know that farthough I ne'er minced ape nor gallows-bird."

Afterwaiting a good hour he felt desperately hungry; so he turnedand inself-defence went to sleep again.

Poorfellowin his hard life he had been often driven to this manoeuvre.At high noon he was waked by Gerard movingand found him sitting upwith the straw smoking round him like a dung-hill. Animal heat versusmoisture. Gerard called him "a lazy loon." He quietlygrinned.

Theyset outand the first thing Denys did was to give Gerard hisarbalestetc.and mount a high tree on the road. "Coast clearto the next village" said heand on they went.

Ondrawing near the villageDenys halted and suddenly inquired ofGerard how he felt.

"What!can you not see? I feel as if Rome was no further than yon hamlet."

"Butthy bodylad; thy skin?"

"Neitherhot nor cold; and yesterday 'twas hot one while and cold another. Butwhat I cannot get rid of is this tiresome leg."

"Legrand malheur! Many of my comrades have found no such difficulty."

"Ah!there it goes again; itches consumedly."

"Unhappyyouth" said Denys solemnly"the sum of thy troubles isthis: thy fever is goneand thy wound is - healing. Sith so it is"added he indulgently"I shall tell thee a little piece of newsI had otherwise withheld."

"Whatis't?" asked Gerardsparkling with curiosity.

"THEHUE AND CRY IS OUT AFTER US: AND ON FLEET HORSES."

"Oh!"

 

CHAPTERXXIX

Gerardwas staggered by this sudden communicationand his colour came andwent. Then he clenched his teeth with ire. For men of any spirit atall are like the wild boar; he will run from a superior forceowingperhaps to his not being an ass; but if you stick to his heels toolong and too closeandin shortbore himhe will whirland cometearing at a multitude of huntersand perhaps bore you. Gerard thenset his teeth and looked battleBut the next moment his countenancefelland he said plaintively"And my axe is in Rhine."

Theyconsulted together. Prudence bade them avoid that village; hungersaid "buy food."

Hungerspoke loudest. Prudence most convincingly. They settled to strikeacross the fields.

Theyhalted at a haystack and borrowed two bundles of hayand lay on themin a dry ditch out of sightbut in nettles

Theysallied out in turn and came back with turnips. These they munched atintervals in their retreat until sunset.

Presentlythey crept out shivering into the rain and darknessand got into theroad on the other side of the village.

Itwas a dismal nightdark as pitchand blowing hard. They couldneither seenor hearnor be seennor heard; and for aught I knowpassed like ghosts close to their foes. These they almost forgot inthe natural horrors of the black tempestuous nightin which theyseemed to grope and hew their way as in black marble. When the moonrose they were many a league from Dusseldorf. But they still trudgedon. Presently they came to a huge building.

"Courage!"cried Denys"I think I know this convent. Aye it is. We are inthe see of Juliers. Cologne has no power here.

Thenext moment they were safe within the walls.

 

CHAPTERXXX

HereGerard made acquaintance with a monkwho had constructed the greatdial in the prior's gardenand a wheel for drawing waterand awinnowing machine for the grainetc.and had ever some ingeniousmechanism on hand. He had made several psalteries and two dulcimersand was now attempting a set of regallesor little organ for thechoir.

NowGerard played the humble psaltery a little; but the monk touched thatinstrument divinelyand showed him most agreeably what a novice hewas in music. He also illuminated finelybut could not write sobeautifully as Gerard. Comparing their acquirements with theearnestness and simplicity of an age in which accomplishments implieda true natural bentYouth and Age soon became like brothersandGerard was pressed hard to stay that night. He consulted Denyswhoassented with a rueful shrug.

Gerardtold his old new friend whither he was goingand described theirlate adventuressoftening down the bolster.

"Alack!"said the good old man"I have been a great traveller in my daybut none molested me." He then told him to avoid inns; they werealways haunted by rogues and roystererswhence his soul might takeharm even did his body escapeand to manage each day's journey so asto lie at some peaceful monastery; then suddenly breaking off andlooking as sharp as a needle at Gerardhe asked him how long sincehe had been shriven? Gerard coloured up and replied feebly -

"Betterthan a fortnight."

"Andthou an exorcist! No wonder perils have overtaken thee. Comethoumust be assoiled out of hand."

"Yesfather" said Gerard"and with all mine heart;" andwas sinking down to his kneeswith his hands joinedbut the monkstopped him half fretfully -

"Notto me! not to me! not to me! I am as full of the world as thou or anybe that lives in't. My whole soul it is in these wooden pipesandsorry leathern stopswhich shall perish - with them whose minds arefixed on such like vanities."

"Dearfather" said Gerard"they are for the use of the Churchand surely that sanctifies the pains and labour spent on them?"

"Thatis just what the devil has been whispering in mine ear this while"said the monkputting one hand behind his back and shaking hisfinger half threateninglyhalf playfullyat Gerard. "He waseven so kind and thoughtful as to mind me that Solomon built the Lorda house with rare hangingsand that this in him was counted graciousand no sin. Oh! he can quote Scripture rarely. But I am not so simplea monk as you thinkmy lad" cried the good fatherwith suddendefianceaddressing not Gerard but - Vacancy. "This one toyfinishedvigilsfastsand prayers for me; prayers standingprayers lying on the chapel floorand prayers in a right good tub ofcold water." He nudged Gerard and winked his eye knowingly."Nothing he hates and dreads like seeing us monks at our orisonsup to our chins in cold water. For corpus domat aqua. So now goconfess thy little trumpery sinspardonable in youth and secularityand leave me to minesweet to me as honeyand to be expiated inproportion."

Gerardbowed his headbut could not help saying"Where shall I find aconfessor more holy and clement?"

"Ineach of these cells" replied the monk simply (they were now inthe corridor) "therego to Brother Anselmyonder."

Gerardfollowed the monk's directionand made for a cell; but the doorswere pretty close to one anotherand it seems he mistook; for justas he was about to taphe heard his old friend crying to him in anagitated whisper"Nay! nay! nay!" He turnedand there wasthe monk at his cell-doorin a strange state of anxietygoing upand down and beating the air double-handedlike a bottom sawyer.Gerard really thought the cell he was at must be inhabited by somedangerous wild beastif not by that personage whose presence in theconvent had been so distinctly proclaimed. He looked back inquiringlyand went on to the next door. Then his old friend nodded his headrapidlybursting in a moment into a comparatively blissfulexpression of faceand shot back into his den. He took hishour-glassturned itand went to work on his regalles; and often helooked upand said to himself"Well-a-daythe sands how swiftthey run when the man is bent over earthly toys."

FatherAnselm was a venerable monkwith an ample headand a face alldignity and love. Therefore Gerard in confessing to himand replyingto his gentle though searching questionscould not help thinking"Here is a head! - Oh dear! oh dear! I wonder whether you willlet me draw it when I have done confessing." And so his own headgot confusedand he forgot a crime or two. Howeverhe did not lowerthe bolstering this timenor was he so uncandid as to detract fromthe pagan character of the bolstered.

Thepenance inflicted was this: he was to enter the convent churchandprostrating himselfkiss the lowest step of the altar three times;then kneeling on the floorto say three paternosters and a credo:"this donecome back to me on the instant."

Accordinglyhis short mortification performedGerard returnedand found FatherAnselm spreading plaster.

"Afterthe soul the body" said he; "know that I am the chirurgeonherefor want of a better. This is going on thy leg; to cool itnotto burn it; the saints forbid"

Duringthe operation the monastic leechwho had naturally been interestedby the Dusseldorf branch of Gerard's confessionrather sided withDenys upon "bleeding." "We Dominicans seldom let bloodnowadays; the lay leeches say 'tis from timidity and want of skill;butin soothwe have long found that simples will cure most of theills that can be cured at all. Besidesthey never kill in capablehands; and other remedies slay like thunderbolts. As for the bloodthe Vulgate saith expressly it is the life of a man.' And in medicineor lawas in divinityto be wiser than the All-wise is to be afool. Moreoversimples are mighty. The little four-footed creaturethat kills the poisonous snakeif bitten herselffinds an herbpowerful enough to quell that poisonthough stronger and of swifteroperation than any mortal malady; and wetaught by her wisdomandour own traditionsstill search and try the virtues of those plantsthe good God hath strewed this earth withsome to feed men's bodiessome to heal them. Only in desperate ills we mix heavenly withearthly virtue. We steep the hair or the bones of some dead saint inthe medicineand thus work marvellous cures."

"Thinkyoufatherit is along of the reliques? for Peter a Florisalearned leech and no pagandenies it stoutly"

"Whatknows Peter a Floris? And what know I? I take not on me to say we cancommand the saintsand will they nill theycan draw corporal virtuefrom their blest remains. But I see that the patient drinking thus infaith is often bettered as by a charm. Doubtless faith in therecipient is for much in all these cures. But so 'twas ever. A sickwomanthat all the Jewish leeches failed to curedid but touchChrist's garment and was healed in a moment. Had she not touched thatsacred piece of cloth she had never been healed. Had she withoutfaith not touched it onlybut worn it to her graveI trow she hadbeen none the better for't. But we do ill to search these things toocuriously. All we see around us calls for faith. Have then a littlepatience. We shall soon know all. MeantimeIthy confessor for thenoncedo strictly forbid theeon thy soul's healthto hearkenlearned lay folk on things religious. Arrogance is their bane; withit they shut heaven's open door in their own faces. MindI saylearned laics. Unlearned ones have often been my masters in humilityand may be thine. Thy wound is cared for; in three days 'twill be buta scar. And now God speed theeand the saints make thee as good andas happy as thou art thoughtful and gracious." Gerard hopedthere was no need to part yetfor he was to dine in the refectory.But Father Anselm told himwith a shade of regret just perceptibleand no morethat he did not leave his cell this weekbeing himselfin penitence; and with this he took Gerard's head delicately in bothhandsand kissed him on the browand almost before the cell doorhad closed on himwas back to his pious offices. Gerard went awaychilled to the heart by the isolation of the monastic lifeandsaddened too. "Alas!" he thought"here is a kind faceI must never look to see again on earth; a kind voice gone from mineear and my heart for ever. There is nothing but meeting and partingin this sorrowful world. Well-a-day! well-a-day!" This pensivemood was interrupted by a young monk who came for him and took him tothe refectory; there he found several monks seated at a tableandDenys standing like a pokerbeing examined as to the towns he shouldpass through: the friars then clubbed their knowledgeand marked outthe routenoting all the religious houses on or near that road; andthis they gave Gerard. Then supperand after it the old monk carriedGerard to his celland they had an eager chatand the friarincidentally revealed the cause of his pantomime in the corridor. "Yehad well-nigh fallen into Brother Jerome's clutches. Yon was hiscell."

"IsFather Jerome an ill manthen?"

"Anill man!" and the friar crossed himself; "a saintananchoritethe very pillar of this house! He had sent ye barefoot toLoretto. NayI forgoty'are bound for Italy; the spiteful old saintupon earthhad sent ye to Canterbury or Compostella. But Jerome wasborn old and with a cowl; Anselm and I were boys onceand wickedbeyond anything you can imagine" (Gerard wore a somewhatincredulous look): "this keeps us humble more or lessand makesus reasonably lenient to youth and hot blood."

Thenat Gerard's earnest requestone more heavenly strain upon thepsalterionand so to bedthe troubled spirit calmedand the soreheart soothed.

Ihave described in full this daymarked only by contrasta day thatcame like oil on waves after so many passions and perils - because itmust stand in this narrative as the representative of many such dayswhich now succeeded to it. For our travellers on their weary wayexperienced that which most of my readers will find in the longerjourney of lifeviz.that stirring events are not evenlydistributed over the whole roadbut come by fits and startsand asit werein clusters. To some extent this may be because they drawone another by links more or less subtle. But there is more in itthan that. It happens so. Life is an intermittent fever. Now allnarratorswhether of history or fictionare compelled to slur thesebarren portions of time or else line trunks. The practicehowevertends to give the unguarded reader a wrong arithmetical impressionwhich there is a particular reason for avoiding in these pages as faras possible. I invite therefore your intelligence to my aidand askyou to try and realize thatalthough there were no more vividadventures for a long whileone day's march succeeded another; onemonastery after another fed and lodged them gratis with a welcomealways charitablesometimes genial; and though they met no enemy butwinter and rough weatherantagonists not always contemptibleyetthey trudged over a much larger tract of territory than thattheirpassage through which I have described so minutely. And so the pairGerard bronzed in the face and travel-stained from head to footandDenys with his shoes in tattersstiff and footsore both of themdrew near the Burgundian frontier.

 

CHAPTERXXXI

Gerardwas almost as eager for this promised land as Denys; for the latterconstantly chanted its praisesand at every little annoyance showedhim "they did things better in Burgundy;" and above allplayed on his foible by guaranteeing clean bedclothes at the inns ofthat polished nation. "I ask no more" the Hollander wouldsay; "to think that I have not lain once in a naked bed since Ileft home! When I look at their lineninstead of doffing habit andhoseit is mine eyes and nose I would fain be shut of."

Denyscarried his love of country so far as to walk twenty leagues in shoesthat had explodedrather than buy of a German churlwho would throwall manner of obstacles in a customer's wayhis incivilityhisdinnerhis body.

Towardssunset they found themselves at equal distances from a little townand a monasteryonly the latter was off the road. Denys was for theinnGerard for the convent. Denys gave waybut on condition thatonce in Burgundy they should always stop at an inn. Gerard consentedto this the more readily that his chart with its list of conventsended here. So they turned off the road. And now Gerard asked withsurprise whence this sudden aversion to places that had fed andlodged them gratis so often. The soldier hemmed and hawed at firstbut at last his wrongs burst forth. It came out that this was nosudden aversionbut an ancient and abiding horrorwhich he hadsuppressed till nowbut with infinite difficultyand out ofpoliteness: "I saw they had put powder in your drink" saidhe"so I forbore them. Howeverbeing the lastwhy not ease mymind? Know then I have been like a fish out of water in all thosegreat dungeons. You straightway levant with some old shaveling: soyou see not my purgatory."

"Forgiveme! I have been selfish."

"AyayI forgive theelittle one; 'tis not thy fault: art not the firstfool that has been priest-ridand monk-hit. But I'll not forgivethem my misery." Thenabout a century before Henry VIII.'scommissionershe delivered his indictment. These gloomy piles wereall built alike. Inns differedbut here all was monotony. Greatgatelittle gateso many steps and then a gloomy cloister. Here thedortourthere the great cold refectorywhere you must sitmumchanceor at least inaudiblehe who liked to speak his mind out;"and then" said he"nobody is a man herebut allare slavesand of what? of a peevishtinkling bellthat neversleeps. An 'twere a trumpet nowaye sounding alarums'twouldn'tfreeze a man's heart so. Tinkletinkletinkleand you must sit tomeat with may be no stomach for food. Ere your meat settles in yourstomachtinkletinkle! and ye must to church with may be no stomachfor devotion: I am not a hog at prayersfor one. Tinkletinkleandnow you must to bed with your eyes open. Wellby then you havecontrived to shut themsome uneasy imp of darkness has got to thebell-ropeand tinkletinkleit behoves you say a prayer in thedarkwhether you know one or not. If they heard the sort of prayersI mutter when they break my rest with their tinkle! Wellyou dropoff again and get about an eyeful of sleep: loit is tinkletinklefor matins."

"Andthe only clapper you love is a woman's" put in Gerard halfcontemptuously.

"Becausethere is some music in that even when it scolds" was the stoutreply. "And then to be always checked. If I do but put my fingerin the salt-cellarstraightway I hear'Have you no knife that youfinger the salt?' And if I but wipe my knife on the cloth to savetimethen 'tis'Wipe thy knife dirty on the breadand clean uponthe cloth!' Oh small of soul! these little peevish pedantries fallchill upon good fellowship like wee icicles a-melting down fromstrawen eaves."

"Ihold cleanliness no pedantry" said Gerard. "Shouldst learnbetter manners once for all."

"Nay;'tis they who lack manners. They stop a fellow's mouth at everyword."

"Atevery other wordyou mean; every obscene or blasphemous one."

"Exaggeratorgo to! Whyat the very last of these dungeons I found the poortravellers sitting all chilled and mute round one shavelinglikerogues awaiting their turn to be hanged; so to cheer them upI didbut cry out'Couragetout le mondele dia-

"Connu!what befell?"

"Marrythis. 'Blaspheme not!' quo' the bourreau. 'Plait-il' say I. Doesn'the wheel and wyte on me in a sort of Alsatian Frenchturning all theP's into B's. I had much ado not to laugh in his face."

"Beingthyself unable to speak ten words of his language without a fault."

"Wellall the world ought to speak French. What avail so many jargonsexcept to put a frontier atwixt men's hearts?"

"Butwhat said he?"

"Whatsignifies it what a fool says?"

"Ohnot all the words of a fool are follyor I should not listen toyou."

"Wellthenhe said'Such as begin by making free with the devil's nameaye end by doing it with all the names in heaven.' 'Father' said I'I am a soldierand this is but my "consigne" orwatchword.' 'Ohthenit is just a custom?' said he. I not diviningthe old foxand thinking to clear myselfsaid'Ayit was.' 'Thenthat is ten times worse' said he. ''Twill bring him about your earsone of these days. He still comes where he hears his name oftencalled.' Observe! no gratitude for the tidings which neither hismissals nor his breviary had ever let him know. Then he was so goodas to tell mesoldiers do commonly the crimes for which all othermen are broke on the wheel; a savoir' murderrapeand pillage."

"Andis't not true?"

"Trueor notit was ill manners" replied Denys guardedly. "Andso says this courteous host of mine'Being the foes of mankindwhymake enemies of good spirits into the bargainby still shouting thenames of evil ones?' and a lot more stuff."

"WellbutDenyswhether you hearken his redeor slight itwhereforeblame a man for raising his voice to save your soul?"

"Howcan his voice save my soulwhen he keeps turning of his P's intoB's"

Gerardwas staggered: ere he could recover at this thunderbolt of GallicismDenys went triumphant off at a tangentand stigmatized all monks ashypocrites. "Do but look at themhow they creep about andcannot eye you like honest men."

"Nay"said Gerard eagerly"that modest downcast gaze is part of theirdiscipline'tis 'custodia oculorum'."

"Cussedtoads eating hoc hac horum? No such thing; just so looks a cut-purse.Can't meet a true man's eye. Doff cowlmonk; and beholda thief;don cowl thiefand loa monk. Tell me not they will ever be able tolook God Almighty in the facewhen they can't even look a true manin the face down here. Ahhere it isblack as ink! into the well wegocomrade. Misericordethere goes the tinkle already. 'Tis thebest of tinkles though; 'tis for dinner: staylisten! I thought so:the wolf in my stomach cried

'Amen!'"This last statement he confirmed with two oathsand marched like avictorious gamecock into the conventthinking by Gerard's silence hehad convinced himand not dreaming how profoundly he had disgustedhim.

 

CHAPTERXXXII

Inthe refectory allusion was madeat the table where Gerard sattothe sudden death of the monk who had undertaken to write out freshcopies of the charter of the monasteryand the ruleetc.

Gerardcaught thisand timidly offered his services. There was a hesitationwhich he mistook. "Naynot for hiremy lordsbut for loveand as a trifling return for many a good night's lodging the brethrenof your order have bestowed on me a poor wayfarer."

Amonk smiled approvingly; but hinted that the late brother was anexcellent penmanand his work could not be continued but by amaster. Gerard on this drew from his wallet with some trepidation avellum deedthe back of which he had cleaned and written upon by wayof specimen. The monk gave quite a start at sight of itand veryhastily went up the hall to the high tableand bending his knee soas just to touch in passing the fifth step and the tenthor lastpresented it to the prior with comments. Instantly a dozen knowingeyes were fixed on itand a buzz of voices was heard; and soonGerard saw the prior point more than onceand the monk came backlooking as proud as Punchwith a savoury crustade ryalor game piegravied and spicedfor Gerardand a silver grace cup full of richpimentum. This latter Gerard tookand bowing lowfirst to thedistant priorthen to his own companyquaffedand circulated thecup.

Instantlyto his surprisethe whole table hailed him as a brother: "Artconvent breddeny it not?" He acknowledged itand gave Heaventhanks for itfor otherwise he had been as rude and ignorant as hisbrothersSybrandt and Cornelis.

"But'tis passing strange how you could know" said he.

"Youdrank with the cup in both hands" said two monksspeakingtogether.

Thevoices had for some time been loudish round a table at the bottom ofthe hall; but presently came a burst of mirth so obstreperous andprolongedthat the prior sent the very sub-prior all down the hallto check itand inflict penance on every monk at the table. AndGerard's cheek burned with shame; for in the heart of the unrulymerriment his ear had caught the word "courage!" and thetrumpet tones of Denys of Burgundy.

SoonGerard was installed in feu Werter's cellwith wax lightsand alittle frame that could be set at any angleand all the materials ofcaligraphy. The workhoweverwas too much for one evening. Thencame the questionhow could he ask Denysthe monk-haterto staylonger? Howeverhe told himand offered to abide by his decision.He was agreeably surprised when Denys said graciously"A day'srest will do neither of us harm. Write thouand I'll pass the timeas I may."

Gerard'swork was vastly admired; they agreed that the records of themonastery had gained by poor Werter's death. The sub-prior forced arix-dollar on Gerardand several brushes and colours out of theconvent stockwhich was very large. He resumed his march warm atheartfor this was of good omen; since it was on the pen he reliedto make his fortune and recover his well-beloved. "ComeDenys"said he good-humouredly"see what the good monks have given me;nowdo try to be fairer to them; for to be round with youitchilled my friendship for a moment to hear even you call mybenefactors 'hypocrites.'"

"Irecant" said Denys.

"Thankyou! thank you! Good Denys."

"Iwas a scurrilous vagabond."

"Naynaysay not soneither!"

"Butwe soldiers are rude and hasty. I give myself the lieand I offerthose I misunderstood all my esteem. 'Tis unjust that thousandsshould be defamed for the hypocrisy of a few."

"Noware you reasonable. You have pondered what I said?"

"Nayit is their own doing."

Gerardcrowed a littlewe all like to be proved in the right; and was allattention when Denys offered to relate how his conversion waseffected.

"Wellthenat dinner the first day a young monk beside me did open hisjaws and laughed right out and most musically. 'Good' said I'atlast I have fallen on a man and not a shorn ape.' Soto sound himfurtherI slapped his broad back and administered my consigne.'Heaven forbid!' says he. I stared. For the dog looked as sad asSolomon; a better mime saw you nevereven at a Mystery. 'I see waris no sharpener of the wits' said he. 'What are the clergy for butto fight the foul fiend? and what else are the monks for?
"Thefiend being dead
The friars are sped."

Youmay plough up the conventsand we poor monks shall have nought to do- but turn soldiersand so bring him to life again.' Then there wasa great laugh at my expense. Wellyou are the monk for me' said I.'And you are the crossbowman for me' quo' he. 'And I'll be bound youcould tell us tales of the war should make our hair stand on end.''Excusez! the barber has put that out of the question' quoth Iandthen I had the laugh."

"Whatwretched ribaldry!" observed Gerard pensively.

Thecandid Denys at once admitted he had seen merrier jests hatched withless cackle. "'Twas a great matter to have got rid of hypocrisy.'So' said I'I can give you the chaire de pouleif that maycontent ye.' 'That we will see' was the cryand a signal wentround."

Denysthen relatedbursting with gleehow at bedtime he had been taken toa cell instead of the great dortourand strictly forbidden to sleep;and to aid his vigila book had been lent him of picturesrepresenting a hundred merry adventures of monks in pursuit of thefemale laity; and how in due course he had been taken out barefootedand down to the parlourwhere was a supper fit for the dukeand atit twelve jolly friarsthe roaringest boys he had ever met in peaceor war. How the storythe toastthe jestthe wine-cup had goneroundand some had played cards with a gorgeous packwhere SaintTheresaand Saint Catherineetc.bedizened with goldstood forthe four queens; and blackwhitegreyand crutched friars for thefour knaves; and had staked their very rosariesswearing liketroopers when they lost. And how about midnight a sly monk had stolenoutbut had by him and others been as cannily followed into thegardenand seen to thrust his hand into the ivy and out with arope-ladder. With this he had run up on the wallwhich was ten feetbroadyet not so nimbly but what a russet kirtle had popped up fromthe outer world as quick as he; and so to billing and cooing: thatthis situation had struck him as rather feline than ecclesiasticaland drawn from him the appropriate comment of a "mew!" Themonks had joined the mewsical chorusand the lay visitor shriekedand been sore discomforted; but Abelard only cried"Whatareye thereye jealous miauling knaves? ye shall caterwaul to some tuneto-morrow night. I'll fit every man-jack of ye with a fardingale."That this brutal threat had reconciled him to stay another day - atGerard's request.

Gerardgroaned.

Meantimeunable to disconcert so brazen a monkand the demoiselle beginningto whimperthey had danced caterwauling in a circlethen bestowed asolemn benediction on the two wall-flowersand off to the parlourwhere they found a pair lying dead drunkand other two affectionateto tears. That they had straightway carried off the inanimateanddragged off the loving and lachymosekicked them all merrily eachinto his cell

"Andso shut up in measureless content."

Gerardwas disgusted: and said so

Denyschuckledand proceeded to tell him how the next day he and the youngmonks had drawn the fish-ponds and secreted much pikecarptenchand eel for their own use: and howin the dead of nighthe had beentaken shoeless by crooked ways into the chapela ghost-like placebeing darkand then down some steps into a crypt below the chapelfloorwhere suddenly paradise had burst on him.

"'Tisthere the holy fathers retire to pray" put in Gerard.

"Notalways" said Denys; "wax candles by the dozen werelightedand princely cheer; fifteen soups maigrewith marvelloustwangs of venisongrouseand hare in themand twenty differentfishes (being Friday)cooked with wondrous artand each he betweentwo buxom lassesand each lass between two lads with a cowl; all butme: and to think I had to woo by interpreter. I doubt the knave putin three words for himself and one for me; if he didn'thang him fora fool. And some of the weaker vessels were novicesand not wont tohold good wine; had to be coaxed ere they would put it to their whiteteeth; mais elles s'y faisaient; and the storyand the jestand thecup went round (by-the-bythey had flagons made to simulatebreviaries); and a monk touched the citternand sang ditties with avoice tunable as a lark in spring. The posies did turn the faces ofthe women folk bright red at first: but elles s'y faisaient."

HereGerard exploded.

"Miserablewretches! Corrupters of youth! Perverters of innocence! but for yourbeing thereDenyswho have been taught no betterohwould God thechurch had fallen on the whole gang. Impiousabominable hypocrites!"

"Hypocrites?"cried Denyswith unfeigned surprise. "Whythat is what I cleptthem ere I knew them: and you withstood me. Naythey are sinners;all good fellows are that; butby St. Denys his helmeted skullnohypocritesbut right jolly roaring blades."

"Denys"said Gerard solemnly"you little know the peril you ran thatnight. That church you defiled amongst you is haunted; I had it fromone of the elder monks. The dead walk theretheir light feet havebeen heard to patter o'er the stones."

"Misericorde!"whispered Denys.

"Aymore" said Gerardlowering his voice almost to a whisper;"celestial sounds have issued from the purlieus of that verycrypt you turned into a tavern. Voices of the dead holding unearthlycommunion have chilled the ear of midnightand at timesDenysthefaithful in their nightly watches have even heard music from deadlips; and chordsmade by no mortal fingerswept by no mortal handhave rung faintlylike echoesdeep among the dead in those sacredvaults."

Denyswore a look of dismay. "Ugh! if I had knownmules andwain-ropes had not hauled me thither; and so" (with a sigh) "Ihad lost a merry time."

Whetherfurther discussion might have thrown any more light upon theseghostly soundswho can tell? for up came a "bearded brother"from the monasteryspurring his muleand waving a piece of vellumin his hand. It was the deed between Ghysbrecht and Floris Brandt.Gerard valued it deeply as a remembrance of home: he turned pale atfirst but to think he had so nearly lost itand to Denys's infiniteamusement not only gave a piece of money to the lay brotherbutkissed the mule's nose.

"I'llread you now" said Gerard"were you twice as ill written;and - to make sure of never losing you" - here he sat downandtaking out needle and threadsewed it with feminine dexterity to hisdoubletand his mindand heartand soul were away to Sevenbergen.

Theyreached the promised landand Denyswho was in high spiritsdoffedhis bonnet to all the females; who curtsied and smiled in return;fired his consigne at most of the men; at which some staredsomegrinnedsome both; and finally landed his friend at one of thelong-promised Burgundian inns.

"Itis a little one" said he"but I know it of old for a goodone; Les Trois Poissons.' But what is this writ up? I mind not this;"and he pointed to an inscription that ran across the whole buildingin a single line of huge letters. "OhI see. 'Ici on loge apied et a cheval'" said Denysgoing minutely through theinscriptionand looking bumptious when he had effected it.

Gerarddid lookand the sentence in question ran thus:

"ONNE LOGE CEANS A CREDIT; CE BONHOMME EST MORTLES MAUVAIS PAIEURSL'ONT TUE."

CHAPTERXXXIII

Theymet the landlord in the passage.

"Welcomemessieurs" said hetaking off his capwith a low bow.

"Comewe are not in Germany" said Gerard.

Inthe public room they found the mistressa buxom woman of forty. Shecurtsied to themand smiled right cordially "Give yourself thetrouble of sitting ye downfair sir" said she to Gerardanddusted two chairs with her apronnot that they needed it.

"Thankyoudame" said Gerard. "Well" thought he"thisis a polite nation: the trouble of sitting down? That will I withsingular patience; and presently the labour of eatingalso the toilof digestionand finallyby Hercules his aidthe strain of goingto bedand the struggle of sinking fast asleep.

"WhyDenyswhat are you doing? ordering supper for only two?"

"Whynot?"

"Whatcan we sup without waiting for forty more? Burgundy forever!"

"Aha!Couragecamarade. Le dia - "

"C'estconvenu."

Thesalic law seemed not to have penetrated to French inns. In this oneat least wimple and kirtle reigned supreme; doublets and hose werefew in numberand feeble in act. The landlord himself wanderedobjectlesseternally taking off his cap to folk for want of thought;and the womenas they passed him in turnthrust him quietly asidewithout looking at himas we remove a live twig in bustling througha wood.

Amaid brought in supperand the mistress followed herempty handed.

"Falltomy masters" said she cheerily; "y'have but one enemyhere; and he lies under your knife." (I shrewdly suspect this offormula.)

Theyfell to. The mistress drew her chair a little toward the table; andprovided company as well as meat; gossiped genially with them likeold acquaintances: but this form gone throughthe busy dame was soonoff and sent in her daughtera beautiful young woman of abouttwentywho took the vacant seat. She was not quite so broad andgenial as the elderbut gentle and cheerfuland showed a womanlytenderness for Gerard on learning the distance the poor boy had comeand had to go. She stayed nearly half-an-hourand when she left themGerard said"This an inn? Whyit is like home."

"Quifit Francois il fit courtois" said Denysbursting withgratified pride.

"Courteous?nayChristian; to welcome us like home guests and old friendsusvagrantshere to-day and gone to-morrow. But indeed who bettermerits pity and kindness than the worn traveller far from his folk?Hola! here's another."

Thenew-comer was the chambermaida woman of about twenty-fivewith acocked nosea large laughing mouthand a sparkling black eyeand abare arm very stout but not very shapely.

Themoment she came inone of the travellers passed a somewhat free jeston her; the next the whole company were roaring at his expensesoswiftly had her practised tongue done his business. Even asin apassage of arms between a novice and a master of fencefoils clash -novice pinked. On this anotherand then anothermust break a lancewith her; but Marion stuck her great arms upon her haunchesand heldthe whole room in play. This country girl possessed in perfectionthat rude and ready humour which looks mean and vulgar on paperbutcarries all before it spoken: not wit's rapier; its bludgeon. Naturehad done much for her in this wayand daily practice in an inn therest.

Yetshall she not be photographed by mebut feebly indicated: for it wasjust four hundred years agothe raillery was coarseshe returnedevery stroke in kindand though a virtuous womansaid thingswithout winkingwhich no decent man of our day would say even amongmen.

Gerardsat gaping with astonishment. This was to him almost a new variety of"that interesting species" homo. He whispered "Denys"Now I see why you Frenchmen say 'a woman's tongue is hersword:'" just then she levelled another assailant; and thechivalrous Denysto console and support "the weaker vessel"the iron kettle among the clay potsadministered his consigne"Couragema miele - - " etc.

Sheturned on him directly. "How can he be dead as long as there isan archer left alive?" (General laughter at her ally's expense.)

"Itis 'washing day' my masters" said shewith sudden gravity.

"Apres?We travellers cannot strip and go bare while you wash our clothes"objected a peevish old fellow by the firesidewho had kept mumchanceduring the raillerybut crept out into the sunshine of commonplaces.

"Iaimed not your wayancient man" replied Marion superciliously."But since you ask me" (here she scanned him slowly fromhead to foot)"I trow you might take a turn in the tubclothesand alland no harm done" (laughter). "But what I spokeforI thought this young sire might like his beard starched."

PoorGerald's turn had come; his chin crop was thin and silky.

Theloudest of all the laughers this time was the traitor Denyswhosebeard was of a good lengthand singularly stiff and bristly; so thatShakespearethough he never saw himhit him in the bull'seye.
"Full of strange oathsand bearded like the pard."
-As You Like It.

Gerardbore the Amazonian satire mighty calmly. He had little personalvanity. "Nay'chambriere'" said hewith a smile"mineis all unworthy your pains; take you this fair growth in hand!"and he pointed to Denys's vegetable.

"Ohtime for thatwhen I starch the besoms.

Whilstthey were all shouting over this palpable hitthe mistress returnedand in no more time than it took her to cross the thresholddid ourAmazon turn to a seeming Madonna meek and mild.

Mistressesare wonderful subjugators. Their like I think breathes not on theglobe. Housemaidsdecide! It was a waste of histrionic abilitythough; for the landlady had heardand did not at heart disapprovethe peals of laughter.

"AhMarionlass" said she good-humouredly"if you laid me anegg every time you cackle'L'es Trois Poissons' would never lack anomelet."

"Nowdame" said Gerard"what is to pay?"

"Whatfor?"

"Oursupper."

"Whereis the hurry? cannot you be content to pay when you go? lose theguestfind the moneyis the rule of 'The Three Fish.'"

"Butdameoutside 'The Three Fish' it is thus written - 'Ici-on ne loge -"

"Bah!Let that flea stick on the wall! Look hither" and she pointedto the smoky ceilingwhich was covered with hieroglyphics. Thesewere accountsvulgo scores; intelligible to this dame and herdaughterwho wrote them at need by simply mounting a low stoolandscratching with a knife so as to show lines of ceiling through thedeposit of smoke. The dame explained that the writing on the wall wasput there to frighten moneyless folk from the inn altogetheror tobe acted on at odd times when a non-paying face should come in andinsist on being served. "We can't refuse them plumpyou know".The law forbids us."

"Andhow know you mine is not such a face?"

"Outfie! it is the best face that has entered 'The Three Fish' thisautumn."

"Andminedame?" said Denys; "dost see no knavery here?"

Sheeyed him calmly. "Not such a good one as the lad's; nor everwill be. But it is the face of a true man. For all that" addedshe drily"an I were ten years youngerI'd as lieve not meetthat face on a dark night too far from home."

Gerardstared. Denys laughed. "WhydameI would but sip the night dewoff the flower; and you needn't take ten years offnor ten daystobe worth risking a scratched face for."

"Thereour mistress" said Marionwho had just come in"said Inot t'other day you could make a fool of them stillan if you wereproperly minded?"

"Idare say ye did; it sounds like some daft wench's speech."

"Dame"said Gerard"this is wonderful."

"What?Oh! nonothat is no wonder at all. WhyI have been here all mylife; and reading faces is the first thing a girl picks up in aninn."

Marion."And frying eggs the second; notelling lies; frying eggs isthe thirdthough."

TheMistress. "And holding her tongue the lastand modesty the dayafter never at all."

Marion."Alack! Talk of my tongue. But I say no more. She under whosewing I live now deals the blow. I'm sped - 'tis but a chambermaidgone. Catch what's left on't!" and she staggered and sankbackwards on to the handsomest fellow in the roomwhich happened tobe Gerard.

"Tic!tic!" cried he peevishly; "theredon't be stupid! that istoo heavy a jest for me. See you not I am talking to the mistress?"

Marionresumed her elasticity with a grimacemade two little bounds intothe middle of the floorand there turned a pirouette. "Theremistress" said she"I give in; 'tis you that reignssupreme with the menleastways with male children."

"Youngman" said the mistress"this girl is not so stupid as herdeportment; in reading of facesand frying of omeletsthere we aregreat. 'Twould be hard if we failed at these artssince they areabout all we do know."

"Youdo not quite take medame" said Gerard. "That honesty ina face should shine forth to your experienced eyethat seemsreasonable: but how by looking on Denys here could you learn his onelittle foiblehis insanityhis miserable mulierosity?" PoorGerard got angrier the more he thought of it.

"Hismule - his what?" (crossing herself with superstitious awe atthe polysyllable).

"Nay'tis but the word I was fain to invent for him."

"Invent?Whatcan a child like you make other words than grow in Burgundy bynature? Take heed what ye do! whywe are overrun with them alreadyespecially bad ones. Lordthese be times. I look to hear of a newthistle invented next."

"Wellthendamemulierose - that means wrapped upbody and soulinwomen. So prithee tell me; how did you ever detect the noodle'smulierosity?"

"Alas!good youthyou make a mountain of a molehill. We that are women benotice-takers; and out of the tail of our eye see more than most mencanglaring through a prospect glass. Whiles I move to and fro doingthis and thatmy glance is still on my guestsand I did notice thatthis soldier's eyes were never off the womenfolk: my daughterorMarionor even an old woman like meall was gold to him: and therea sat glowering; ohyou foolishfoolish man! Now you still turnedto the speakerher or himand that is common sense.

Denysburst into a hoarse laugh. "You never were more out. Whythissilkysmooth-faced companion is a very Turk -all but his beard. Heis what d'ye call 'em oser than ere an archer in the Duke'sbody-guard. He is more wrapped up in one single Dutch lass calledMargaretthan I am in the whole bundle of yebrown and fair."

"Manalivethat is just the contrary" said the hostess. "Yournis the baneand hisn the cure. Cling you still to Margaretmy dear.I hope she is an honest girl."

"Dameshe is an angel."

"Ayaythey are all that till better acquainted. I'd as lieve have herno more than honestand then she will serve to keep you out of worsecompany. As for yousoldierthere is trouble in store for you. Youreyes were never made for the good of your soul."

"Norof his pouch either" said Marionstriking in"and hislipsthey will sip the dewas he calls itoff many a bramblebush."

"Overmuchclack! Marion overmuch clack."

"Odsbodikinsmistress; ye didn't hire me to be one o' your three fishesdid ye?" and Marion sulked thirty seconds.

"Isthat the way to speak to our mistress?" remonstrated thelandlordwho had slipped in.

"Holdyour whisht" said his wife sharply; "it is not yourbusiness to check the girl; she is a good servant to you."

"Whatis the cock never to crowand the hens at it all day?"

"Youcan crow as loud as you likemy man out o' doors. But the hen meansto rule the roost."

"Iknow a byword to that tune." said Gerard.

"Doyenow? out wi't then."
"Femme veut en toutesaison
Estre dame en sa mason."

"Inever heard it afore; but 'tis as sooth as gospel. Aythey that setthese bywords a rolling had eyes and tonguesand tongues and eyes.Before all the world give me an old saw."

"Andme a young husband" said Marion. "Now there was a chancefor you alland nobody spoke. Oh! it is too late nowI've changedmy mind."

"Allthe better for some poor fellow" suggested Denys.

Andnow the arrival of the young mistressoras she was calledthelittle mistresswas the signal for them all to draw round the firelike one happy familytravellershosthostessand even servantsin the outer ringand tell stories till bedtime. And Gerard in histurn told a tremendous one out of his repertorya MS. collection of"acts of the saints" and made them all shudderdeliciously; but soon after began to nodexhausted by the effortIshould say. The young mistress sawand gave Marion a look. Sheinstantly lighted a rushand laying her hand on Gerard's shoulderinvited him to follow her. She showed him a room where were two nicewhite bedsand bade him choose.

"Eitheris paradise" said he. "I'll take this one. Do you knowIhave not lain in a naked bed once since I left my home in Holland."

"Alack!poor soul!" said she; "wellthenthe sooner my flax andyour down (he! he!) come togetherthe better; so - allons!" andshe held out her cheek as business-like as if it had been her handfor a fee.

"Allons?what does that mean?"

"Itmeans 'good-night.' Ahem! Whatdon't they salute the chambermaid inyour part?"

"Notall in a moment."

"Whatdo they make a business on't?"

"Nayperverter of wordsI mean we make not so free with strange women.

"Theymust be strange women if they do not think you strange foolsthen.Here is a coil. Whyall the old greasy greybeards that lie at ourinn do kiss us chambermaids; faugh! and what have we poor wretches toset on t'other side the compt but now and then a nice young----?Alack! time flieschambermaids can't be spared long in the nurseryso how is't to be?"

"An'tplease you arrange with my comrade for both. He is mulierose; I amnot."

"Nay'tis the curb he will wantnot the spur. Well! well! you shall tobed without paying the usual toll; and ohbut 'tis sweet to fall inwith a young man who can withstand these ancient ill customsandgainsay brazen hussies. Shalt have thy reward."

"Thankyou! But what are you doing with my bed?"

"Me?ohonly taking off these sheetsand going to put on the pair thedrunken miller slept in last night."

"Ohno! no! You cruelblack-hearted thing! There! there!"

"Ala bonne heure! What will not perseverance effect? But note now thefrowardness of a mad wench! I cared not for't a button. I am deadsick of that sport this five years. But you denied me; so thenforthwith I behoved to have it; belike had gone through fire andwater for't. Alasyoung sirwe women are kittle cattle; poorperverse toads: excuse us: and keep us in our placesavoirat arm'slength; and so good-night!"

Atthe door she turned and saidwith a complete change of tone andmanner: "The Virgin guard thy headand the holy Evangelistswatch the bed where lies a poor young wanderer far from home! Amen!"

Andthe next moment he heard her run tearing down the stairsand soon apeal of laughter from the salle betrayed her whereabouts.

"Nowthat is a character" said Gerard profoundlyand yawned overthe discovery.

Ina very few minutes he was in a dry bath of coldclean lineninexpressibly refreshing to him after so long disuse: then came adelicious glow; and then - Sevenbergen.

Inthe morning Gerard awoke infinitely refreshedand was for risingbut found himself a close prisoner. His linen had vanished. Now thiswas paralysis; for the nightgown is a recent institution. In Gerard'scenturyand indeed long aftermen did not play fast and loose withclean sheets (when they could get them)but crept into them clothedwith their innocencelike Adam: out of bed they seem to have takenmost after his eldest son.

Gerardbewailed his captivity to Denys; but that instant the door openedand in sailed Marion with their linennewly washed and ironedonher two armsand set it down on the table.

"Ohyou good girl" cried Gerard.

"Alackhave you found me out at last?"

"Yesindeed. Is this another custom?"

"Naynot to take them unbidden: but at night we aye question travellersare they for linen washed. So I came into youbut you were bothsound. Then said I to the little mistress'La! where is the sense ofwaking wearied ment'ask them is Charles the Great deadand wouldthey liever carry foul linen or cleanespecially this one with askin like cream? 'And so he hasI declare' said the youngmistress."

"Thatwas me" remarked Denyswith the air of a commentator.

"Guessonce moreand you'll hit the mark."

"Noticehim notMarionhe is an impudent fellow; and I am sure we cannot begrateful enough for your goodnessand I am sorry I ever refused you- anything you fancied you should like."

"Ohare ye there" said l'espiegle. "I take that to mean youwould fain brush the morning dew offas your bashful companion callsit; well thenexcuse me'tis customarybut not prudent. I decline.Quits with youlad."

"Stop!stop!" cried Denysas she was making off victorious"I amcurious to know how manyof ye were here last night a-feasting youreyes on us twain.

"'Twasso satisfactory a feast as we weren't half a minute over't. Who? whythe big mistressthe little mistressJanetand meand the wholeposse comitatuson tiptoe. We mostly make our rounds the last thingnot to get burned down; and in prodigious numbers. Somehow thatmaketh us bolderespecially where archers lie scattered about."

"Whydid not you tell me? I'd have lain awake."

"Beausirethe saying goes that the good and the ill are all one whiletheir lids are closed. So we said'Here is one who will serve Godbest asleepBreak not his rest!'"

"Sheis funny" said Gerard dictatorially.

"Imust be either that or knavish."

"Howso?"

"Because'The Three Fish' pay me to be funny. You will eat before you part?Good! then I'll go see the meat be fit for such worshipful teeth."

"Denys!"

"Whatis your will?"

"Iwish that was a great boyand going along with usto keep uscheery."

"Sodo not I. But I wish it was going along with us as it is."

"NowHeaven forefend! A fine fool you would make of yourself."

Theybroke their fastsettled their scoreand said farewell. Then it wasthey found that Marion had not exaggerated the "custom of thecountry." The three principal women took and kissed them rightheartilyand they kissed the three principal women. The landlordtook and kissed themand they kissed the landlord; and the cry was"Come backthe sooner the better!"

"Neverpass 'The Three Fish'; should your purses be voidbring yourselves:'le sieur credit' is not dead for you."

Andthey took the road again.

Theycame to a little townand Denys went to buy shoes. The shopkeeperwas in the doorwaybut wide awake. He received Denys with a bow downto the ground. The customer was soon fittedand followed to thestreetand dismissed with graceful salutes from the doorstep.

Thefriends agreed it was Elysium to deal with such a shoemaker as this."Not but what my German shoes have lasted well enough"said Gerard the just.

Outsidethe town was a pebbled walk.

"Thisis to keep the burghers's feet drya-walking o' Sundays with theirwives and daughters" said Denys.

Thosesimple words of Denysone stroke of a careless tonguepainted"home" in Gerard's heart. "Ohhow sweet!" saidhe.

"Mercy!what is this? A gibbet! and ughtwo skeletons thereon!

OhDenyswhat a sorry sight to woo by!"

"Nay"said Denys"a comfortable sight; for every rogue i' the airthere is one the less a-foot"

Alittle farther on they came to two pillarsand between these was ahuge wheel closely studded with iron prongs; and entangled in thesewere bones and fragments of cloth miserably dispersed over the wheel.

Gerardhid his face in his hands. "Ohto think those patches and bonesare all that is left of a man! of one who was what we are now."

"Excusez!a thing that went on two legs and stole; are we no more than that?"

"Howknow ye he stole? Have true men never suffered death and torturetoo?"

"Noneof my kith ever found their way to the gibbetI know."

"Thebetter their luck. Pritheehow died the saints?"

"Hard.But not in Burgundy."

"Yemassacred them wholesale at Lyonsand that is on Burgundy'sthreshold. To you the gibbet proves the crimebecause you read notstory. Alas! had you stood on Calvary that bloody day we sigh for tothis hourI tremble to think you had perhaps shouted for joy at thegibbet builded there; for the cross was but the Roman gallowsFatherMartin says."

"Theblaspheming old hound!"

"Ohfie! fie! a holy and a book-learned man. AyDenysy'had read themthat suffered thereby the bare light of the gibbet. 'Drive in thenails!' y'had cried: 'drive in the spear!' Here be three malefactors.Three 'roues.' Yet of those little three one was the first Christiansaintand another was the Saviour of the world which gibbeted him."

Denysassured him on his honour they managed things better in Burgundy. Headdedtooafter profound reflectionthat the horrors Gerard hadalluded to had more than once made him curse and swear with rage whentold by the good cure in his native village at Eastertide: "butthey chanced in an outlandish nationand near a thousand yearsagone. Mort de ma vielet us hope it is not true; or at least soreexaggerated. Do but see how all tales gather as they roll!"

Thenhe reflected againand all in a moment turned red with ire. "Doye not blush to play with your book-craft on your unlettered friendand throw dust in his eyesevening the saints with these reptiles?"

Thensuddenly he recovered his good humour. "Since your heart beatsfor verminfeel for the carrion crows! they be as good vermin asthese; would ye send them to bed supperlesspoor pretty poppets?Whythese be their larder; the pangs of hunger would gnaw them deadbut for cold cut-purse hung up here and there."

Gerardwho had for some time maintained a dead silenceinformed him thesubject was closed between themand for ever. "There arethings" said he"in which our hearts seem wide as thepoles asunderand eke our heads. But I love thee dearly all thesame" he addedwith infinite grace and tenderness.

Towardsafternoon they heard a faint wailing noise on ahead; it grewdistincter as they proceeded. Being fast walkers they soon came upwith its cause: a score of pikemenaccompanied by severalconstableswere marching alongand in advance of them was a herd ofanimals they were driving. These creaturesin number rather morethan a hundredwere of various agesonly very few were downrightold: the males were downcast and silent. It was the females from whomall the outcry came. In other wordsthe animals thus driven along atthe law's point were men and women.

"GoodHeaven!" cried Gerard"what a band of them! But staysurely all those children cannot be thieves; whythere are some inarms. What on earth is thisDenys?"

Denysadvised him to ask that "bourgeois" with the badge; "Thisis Burgundy: here a civil question ever draws a civil reply.

Gerardwent up to the officerand removing his capa civility which wasimmediately returnedsaid"For our Lady's sakesirwhat doye with these poor folk?"

"Naywhat is that to youmy lad?" replied the functionarysuspiciously.

"MasterI'm a strangerand athirst for knowledge."

"Thatis another matter. What are we doing? ahem. Why we - Dost hearJacques? Here is a stranger seeks to know what we are doing"and the two machines were tickled that there should be a man who didnot know something they happened to know. In all ages this hastickled. Howeverthe chuckle was brief and moderated by the nativecourtesyand the official turned to Gerard again. "What we aredoing? hum!" and now he hesitatednot from any doubt as to whathe was doingbut because he was hunting for a single word thatshould convey the matter.

"Ceque nous faisonsmon gars? - Mais - dam - NOUS TRANSVASONS."

"Youdecant? that should mean you pour from one vessel to another."

"Precisely."He explained that last year the town of Charmes had been sore thinnedby a pestilencewhole houses emptied and trades short of hands. Muchado to get in the ryeand the flax half spoiled. So the bailiff andaldermen had written to the duke's secretary; and the duke he sentfar and wide to know what town was too full. "That are we"had the baillie of Toul writ back. "Then send four or five scoreof your townsfolk" was the order. "Was not this to decantthe full town into the emptyand is not the good duke the father ofhis peopleand will not let the duchy be weakenednor its fairtowns laid waste by sword nor pestilence; but meets the one withpikeand arbalest (touching his cap to the sergeant and Denysalternately)and t'other with policy? LONG LIVE THE DUKE!"

Thepikemen of course were not to be outdone in loyalty; so they shoutedwith stentorian lungs "LONG LIVE THE DUKE!" Then thedecanted onespartly because loyalty was a non-reasoning sentimentin those dayspartly perhaps because they feared some further illconsequence should they alone be muteraised a feebletremulousshout"Long live the Duke!"

Butat thisinsulted nature rebelled. Perhaps indeed the sham sentimentdrew out the realforon the very heels of that royal noisea loudand piercing wail burst from every woman's bosomand a deepdeepgroan from every man's; oh! the air filled in a moment with womanlyand manly anguish. Judge what it must have been when the rude pikemenhalted unbiddenall confused; as if a wall of sorrow had started upbefore them.

"Enavant" roared the sergeantand they marched againbutmuttering and cursing.

"Ahthe ugly sound" said the civilianwincing. "Lesmalheureux!" cried he ruefully: for where is the single man canhear the sudden agony of a multitude and not be moved? "Lesingrats! They are going whence they were de trop to where they willbe welcome: from starvation to plenty - and they object. They evenmake dismal noises. One would think we were thrusting them forth fromBurgundy."

"Comeaway" whispered Gerardtrembling; "come away" andthe friends strode forward.

Whenthey passed the head of the columnand saw the men walk with theireyes bent in bitter gloom upon the groundand the womensomecarryingsome leading little childrenand weeping as they wentandthe poor bairnssome frolickingsome weeping because "theirmammies" weptGerard tried hard to say a word of comfortbutchoked and could utter nothing to the mourners; but gasped"ComeonDenysI cannot mock such sorrow with little words of comfort."And nowartist-likeall his aim was to get swiftly out of the griefhe could not soothe. He almost ran not to hear these sighs and sobs

"Whymate" said Denys"art the colour of a lemon. Man alivetake not other folk's troubles to heart! not one of those whiningmilksops there but would see theea strangerhanged withoutwinking."

Gerardscarce listened to him.

"Decantthem?" he groaned; "ayif blood were no thicker than wine.Princesye are wolves. Poor things! Poor things! AhDenys! Denys!with looking on their grief mine own comes home to me. Well-a-day!ahwell-a-day!"

"Aynow you talk reason. That youpoor ladshould be driven all the wayfrom Holland to Rome is pitiful indeed. But these snivelling curswhere is their hurt? There is six score of 'em to keep one anothercompany: besidesthey are not going out of Burgundy."

"Betterfor them if they had never been in it."

"Mechantva! they are but going from one village to anothera mule's journey!whilst thou - thereno more. Couragecamaradele diable est mort."

Gerardshook his head very doubtfullybut kept silence for about a mileand then he said thoughtfully"AyDenysbut then I amsustained by booklearning. These are simple folk that likely thoughttheir village was the world: now what is this? more weeping. Oh! 'tisa sweet world Humph! A little girl that hath broke her pipkin. Nowmay I hang on one of your gibbets but I'll dry somebody's tears"and he pounced savagely upon this little martyrlike a kite on achickbut with more generous intentions. It was a pretty little lassof about twelve; the tears were raining down her two peachesand herpalms lifted to heaven in that utterthough temporarydesolationwhich attends calamity at twelve; and at her feet the fatal causeabroken potworthsay the fifth of a modern farthing.

"Whathast broken thy potlittle one?" said Gerardacting intensestsympathy.

"Helas!bel gars; as you behold;" and the hands came down from the skyand both pointed at the fragments. A statuette of adversity.

"Andyou weep so for that?"

"NeedsI mustbel gars. My mammy will massacre me. Do they not already"(with a fresh burst of woe) "c-c-call me J-J-Jean-net-onC-c-casse tout? It wanted but this; that I should break my poor

pot.Helas! fallait-il doncmere de Dieu?"

"Couragelittle love" said Gerard; "'tis not thy heart lies broken;money will soon mend pots. See nowhere is a piece of silverandtherescarce a stone's throw offis a potter; take the bit ofsilver to himand buy another potand the copper the potter willgive thee keep that to play with thy comrades"

Thelittle mind took in all thisand smiles began to struggle with thetears: but spasms are like wavesthey cannot go down the very momentthe wind of trouble is lulled. So Denys thought well to bring up hisreserve of consolation "Couragema miele diable est mort!"cried that inventive warrior gaily. Gerard shrugged his shoulders atsuch a way of cheering a little girl.
"What a fine thing
Isa lute with one string" said he.

Thelittle girl's face broke into warm sunshine.

"Ohthe good news! ohthe good news!" she sang out with suchheartfelt joyit went off into a honeyed whine; even as our gay oldtunes have a pathos underneath "So then" said shetheywill no longer be able to threaten us little girls with himmakingour lives a burden!" And she bounded off "to tell Nanette"she said.

Thereis a theory that everything has its counterpart; if trueDenys itwould seem had found the mind his consigne fitted.

Whilehe was roaring with laughter at its unexpected success and Gerard'samazementa little hand pulled his jerkin and a little face peepedround his waist. Curiosity was now the dominant passion in that smallbut vivid countenance.

"Est-cetoi qui l'a tuebeau soldat?"

"Ouima mie" said Denysas gruffly as ever he couldrightlydeeming this would smack of supernatural puissance to owners ofbell-like trebles. "C'est moi. Ca vaut une petite embrassade-pas?"

"Jecrois ben. Aie! aie!"

"Qu'as-tu?"

Capique! ca pique!"

"Queldommage! je vais la couper."

"Neince n'est rien; et pisque t'as tue ce mechant. T'es fierement beautout d' memetoi; t'es lien miex que ma grande soeur.

"Willyou not kiss metooma mie?" said Gerard.

"Jene demande par miex. Tienstienstiens! c'est doulce celle-ci. Ah!que j'aimons les hommes! Des famesca ne m'aurait jamais donnel'arjanblancplutot ca m'aurait ri au nez. C'est si peu de choseles fames. Serviteurbeaulx sires! Bon voiage; et n'oubliez point laJeanneton!"

"Adieupetit coeur" said Gerardand on they marched; but presentlylooking back they saw the contemner of women in the middle of theroadmaking them a reverenceand blowing them kisses with littleMay morning face.

"Comeon" cried Gerard lustily. "I shall win to Rome yet. HolySt. Bavonwhat a sunbeam of innocence hath shot across ourbloodthirsty road! Forget theelittle Jeanneton? not likelyamidstall this slobberingand gibbetingand decanting. Come onthoulaggard! forward!"

"Dostcall this marching?" remonstrated Denys; "whywe shallwalk o'er Christmas Day and never see it."

Atthe next town they came tosuddenly an arbalestrier ran out of atavern after themand in a moment his beard and Denys's were liketwo brushes stuck together. It was a comrade. He insisted on theircoming into the tavern with himand breaking a bottle of wine. Incourse of conversationhe told Denys there was an insurrection inthe Duke's Flemish provincesand soldiers were ordered thither fromall parts of Burgundy. "IndeedI marvelled to see thy faceturned this way.

"Igo to embrace my folk that I have not seen these three years. Ye canquell a bit of a rising without me I trow."

SuddenlyDenys gave a start. "Dost hear Gerard? this comrade is bound forHolland."

"Whatthen? aha letter! a letter to Margaret! but will he be so goodsokind?"

Thesoldier with a torrent of blasphemy informed him he would not onlytake itbut go a league or two out of his way to do it.

Inan instant out came inkhorn and paper from Gerard's wallet; and hewrote a long letter to Margaretand told her briefly what I fear Ihave spun too tediously; dwelt most on the bearand the plunge inthe Rhineand the character of Denyswhom he painted to the life.And with many endearing expressions bade her to be of good cheer;some trouble and peril there had beenbut all that was over nowandhis only grief left wasthat he could not hope to have a word fromher hand till he should reach Rome. He ended with comforting heragain as hard as he could. And so absorbed was he in his love and hisworkthat he did not see all the people in the room were standingpeepingto watch the nimble and true finger execute such rarepenmanship.

Denysproud of his friend's skilllet him alonetill presently thewriter's face workedand soon the scalding tears began to run downhis young cheeksone after anotheron the paper where he was thenwriting comfortcomfort. Then Denys rudely repulsed the curiousandasked his comrade with a faltering voice whether he had the heart tolet so sweet a love-letter miscarry? The other swore by the face ofSt. Luke he would lose the forefinger of his right hand sooner.

Seeinghim so readyGerard charged him also with a shortcold letter tohis parents; and in it he drew hastily with his pen two handsgrasping each otherto signify farewell. By-the-byone drop ofbitterness found its way into his letter to Margaret. But of thatanon.

Gerardnow offered money to the soldier. He hesitatedbut declined it. "Nono! art comrade of my comrade; and may" (etc.) "but thylove for the wench touches me. I'll break another bottle at thycharge an thou wiltand so cry quits."

"Wellsaidcomrade" cried Denys. "Hadst taken moneyI hadinvited thee to walk in the courtyard and cross swords with me."

"WhereuponI had cut thy comb for thee" retorted the other.

"Hadstdone thy endeavourdroleI doubt not."

Theydrank the new bottleshook handsadhered to customand parted onopposite routes.

Thisdelayhoweversomewhat put out Denys's calculationsand eveningsurprised them ere they reached a little town he was making forwhere was a famous hotel. Howeverthey fell in with a roadsideaubergeand Denysseeing a buxom girl at the doorsaid"Thisseems a decent inn" and led the way into the kitchen. Theyordered supperto which no objection was raisedonly the landlordrequested them to pay for it beforehand. It was not an uncommonproposal in any part of the world. Still it was not universalandDenys was nettledand dashed his hand somewhat ostentatiously intohis purse and pulled out a gold angel. "Count me the changeandspeedily" said he. "You tavern-keepers are more likely torob me than I you."

Whilethe supper was preparingDenys disappearedand was eventually foundby Gerard in the yardhelping Manonhis plump but not bright decoyduckto draw waterand pouring extravagant compliments into herdullish ear. Gerard grunted and returned to tablebut Denys did notcome in for a good quarter of an hour.

"Uphillwork at the end of a march" said heshrugging his shoulders.

"Whatmatters that to you!" said Gerard drily. "The mad dog bitesall the world."

"Exaggerator.You know I bite but the fairer half. Wellhere comes supper; that isbetter worth biting."

Duringsupper the girl kept constantly coming in and outand lookingpoint-blank at themespecially at Denys; and at last in leaning overhim to remove a dishdropped a word in his ear; and he replied witha nod.

Assoon as supper was cleared awayDenys rose and strolled to the doortelling Gerard the sullen fair had relentedand given him a littlerendezvous in the stable-yard.

Gerardsuggested that the calf-pen would have been a more appropriatelocality. "I shall go to bedthen" said hea littlecrossly. "Where is the landlord? out at this time of night? nomatter. I know our room. Shall you be longpray?"

"NotI. I grudge leaving the fire and thee. But what can I do? There aretwo sorts of invitations a Burgundian never declines."

Denysfound a figure seated by the well. It was Manon; but instead ofreceiving him as he thought he had a right to expectcoming byinvitationall she did was to sob. He asked her what ailed her? Shesobbed. Could he do anything for her? She sobbed.

Thegood-natured Denysdriven to his wits' endwhich was no greatdistanceproffered the custom of the country by way of consolation.She repulsed him roughly. "Is it a time for fooling?" saidsheand sobbed.

"Youseem to think so" said Denyswaxing wroth. But the next momenthe added tenderly"and Iwho could never bear to see beauty indistress."

"Itis not for myself."

"Whothen? your sweetheart?"

"Ohque nenni. My sweetheart is not on earth now: and to think I have notan ecu to buy masses for his soul;" and in this shallow naturethe grief seemed now to be all turned in another direction.

"Comecome" said Denys"shalt have money to buy masses for thydead lad; I swear it. Meantime tell me why you weep."

"Foryou."

"Forme? Art mad?"

"No;I am not mad. 'Tis you that were mad to open your purse before him."

Themystery seemed to thickenand Denyswearied of stirring up the mudby questionsheld his peace to see if it would not clear of itself.Then the girlfinding herself no longer questionedseemed to gothrough some internal combat. At last she saiddoggedly and aloud"I will. The Virgin give me courage? What matters it if theykill mesince he is dead? Soldierthe landlord is out."

"Ohis he?"

"Whatdo landlords leave their taverns at this time of night? also see whata tempest! We are sheltered herebut t'other side it blows ahurricane."

Denyssaid nothing.

"Heis gone to fetch the band."

"Theband! what band?"

"Thosewho will cut your throat and take your gold. Wretched man; to go andshake gold in an innkeeper's face!"

Theblow came so unexpectedly it staggered even Denysaccustomed as hewas to sudden perils. He muttered a single wordbut in it a volume.

"Gerard!"

"Gerard!What is that? Oh'tis thy comrade's namepoor lad. Get him outquick ere they come; and fly to the next town."

"Andthou?"

"Theywill kill me."

"Thatshall they not. Fly with us."

"'Twillavail me nought: one of the band will be sent to kill me. They aresworn to slay all who betray them."

"I'lltake thee to my native place full thirty leagues from henceand putthee under my own mother's wingere they shall hurt a hair o' thyhead. But first Gerard. Stay thou here whilst I fetch him!"

Ashe was darting offthe girl seized him convulsivelyand with allthe iron strength excitement lends to women. "Stay me not! forpity's sake" he cried; "'tis life or death."

"Sh!- sh!" whispered the girlshutting his mouth hard with herhandand putting her pale lips close to himand her eyesthatseemed to turn backwardsstraining towards some indistinct sound.

Helistened.

Heheard footstepsmany footstepsand no voices. She whispered in hisear"They are come." And trembled like a leaf.

Denysfelt it was so. Travellers in that number would never have come indead silence.

Thefeet were now at the very door.

"Howmany?" said hein a hollow whisper.

"Hush!"and she put her mouth to his very ear. And whothat had seen thisman and woman in that attitudewould have guessed what freezinghearts were theirsand what terrible whispers passed between them?

"Howarmed?"

"Swordand dagger: and the giant with his axe. They call him the Abbot."

"Andmy comrade?"

"Nothingcan save him. Better lose one life than two. Fly!"

Denys'sblood froze at this cynical advice. "Poor creatureyou know nota soldier's heart."

Heput his head in his hands a momentand a hundred thoughts of dangersbaffled whirled through his brain.

"Listengirl! There is one chance for our livesif thou wilt but be true tous. Run to the town; to the nearest tavernand tell the firstsoldier therethat a soldier here is sore besetbut armedand hislife to be saved if they will but run. Then to the bailiff. But firstto the soldiers. Naynot a wordbut buss megood lassand fly!men's lives hang on thy heels."

Shekilted up her gown to run. He came round to the road with hersawher cross the road cringing with fearthen glide awaythen turninto an erect shadowthen melt away in the storm.

Andnow he must get to Gerard. But how? He had to run the gauntlet of thewhole band. He asked himselfwhat was the worst thing they could do?for he had learned in war that an enemy doesnot what you hope hewill dobut what you hope he will not do. "Attack me as I enterthe kitchen! Then I must not give them time."

Justas he drew near to the latcha terrible thought crossed him."Suppose they had already dealt with Gerard. Whythen"thought he"nought is left but to killand be killed;"and he strung his bowand walked rapidly into the kitchen. Therewere seven hideous faces seated round the fireand the landlordpouring them out neat brandyblood's forerunner in every age.

"What?company!" cried Denys gaily; "one minutemy ladsand I'llbe with you;" and he snatched up a lighted candle off the tableopened the door that led to the staircaseand went up it hallooing."WhatGerard! whither hast thou skulked to?" There was noanswer. He hallooed louder"Gerardwhere art thou?"

Aftera momentin which Denys lived an hour of agonya peevishhalf-inarticulate noise issued from the room at the head of thelittle stairs. Denys burst inand there was Gerard asleep.

"ThankGod!" he saidin a choking voicethen began to sing louduntuneful ditties. Gerard put his fingers into his ears; butpresently he saw in Denys's face a horror that contrasted strangelywith this sudden merriment.

"Whatails thee?" said hesitting up and staring.

"Hush!"said Denysand his hand spoke even more plainly than his lips."Listen to me."

Denysthen pointing significantly to the doorto show Gerard sharp earswere listening hard bycontinued his song aloud but under cover ofit threw in short muttered syllables.

"(Ourlives are in peril.)

"(Thieves.)

"(Thydoublet.)

"(Thysword.)

"Aid.

"Coming.

"Putoff time." Then aloud -

"Wellnowwilt have t'other bottle? - Say nay."

"Nonot I."

"ButI tell theethere are half-a-dozen jolly fellows. Tired."

"Aybut I am too wearied" said Gerard. "Go thou."

"Naynay!" Then he went to the door and called out cheerfully"Landlordthe young milksop will not rise. Give those honestfellows t'other bottle. I will pay for't in the morning."

Heheard a brutal and fierce chuckle.

Havingthus by observation made sure the kitchen door was shutand themiscreants were not actually listeninghe examined the chamber doorclosely: then quietly shut itbut did not bolt it; and went andinspected the window.

Itwas too small to get out ofand yet a thick bar of iron had been letin the stone to make it smaller; and just as he made this chillingdiscoverythe outer door of the house was bolted with a loud clang.

Denysgroaned. "The beasts are in the shambles."

Butwould the thieves attack them while they were awake? Probably not.

Notto throw away this their best chancethe poor souls now made aseries of desperate efforts to converseas if discussing ordinarymatters; and by this means Gerard learned all that had passedandthat the girl was gone for aid.

"PrayHeaven she may not lose heart by the way" said Denyssorrowfully.

AndDenys begged Gerard's forgiveness for bringing him out of his way forthis.

Gerardforgave him.

"Iwould fear them lessGerardbut for one they call the Abbot. Ipicked him out at once. Taller than youbigger than us both puttogether. Fights with an axe. Gerarda man to lead a herd of deer tobattle. I shall kill that man to-nightor he will kill me. I thinksomehow 'tis he will kill me."

"Saintsforbid! Shoot him at the door! What avails his strength against yourweapon?"

"Ishall pick him out; but if it comes to hand fightingrun swiftlyunder his guardor you are a dead man. I tell thee neither of us maystand a blow of that axe: thou never sawest such a body of a man."

Gerardwas for bolting the door; but Denys with a sign showed him that halfthe door-post turned outward on a hingeand the great bolt waslittle more than a blind. "I have forborne to bolt it"said he"that they may think us the less suspicious."

Nearan hour rolled away thus. It seemed an age. Yet it was but a littlehourand the town was a league distant. And some of the voices inthe kitchen became angry and impatient.

"Theywill not wait much longer" said Denys"and we have nochance at all unless we surprise them."

"Iwill do whate'er you bid" said Gerard meekly.

Therewas a cupboard on the same side as the door; but between it and thewindow. It reached nearly to the groundbut not quite. Denys openedthe cupboard door and placed Gerard on a chair behind it. "Ifthey run for the bedstrike at the napes of their necks! a sword cutthere always kills or disables." He then arranged the bolstersand their shoes in the bed so as to deceive a person peeping from adistanceand drew the short curtains at the head.

MeantimeGerard was on his knees. Denys looked round and saw him.

"Ah!"said Denys"above allpray them to forgive me for bringing youinto this guet-apens!

Andnow they grasped hands and looked in one another's eyes ohsuch alook! Denys's hand was coldand Gerard's warm.

Theytook their posts.

Denysblew out the candle..

"Wemust keep silence now.

Butin the terrible tension of their nerves and very souls they foundthey could hear a whisper fainter than any man could catch at alloutside that door. They could hear each other's hearts thump attimes.

"Goodnews!" breathed Denyslistening at the door. "They arecasting lots."

"Praythat it may be the Abbot."

"Yes.Why?

"Ifhe comes alone I can make sure of him."

"Denys!"

"Ay!"

"Ifear I shall go madif they do not come soon."

"ShallI feign sleep? Shall I snore?"

"Willthat-------?

"Perhaps"

"Dothen and God have mercy on us!"

Denyssnored at intervals.

Therewas a scuffling of feet heard in the kitchenand then all was still.

Denyssnored again. Then took up his position behind the door.

Butheor theywho had drawn the lotseemed determined to run nofoolish risks. Nothing was attempted in a hurry.

Whenthey were almost starved with coldand waiting for the attackthedoor on the stairs opened softly and closed again. Nothing more.

Therewas another harrowing silence.

Thena single light footstep on the stair; and nothing more.

Thena light crept under the door and nothing more.

Presentlythere was a gentle scratchingnot half so loud as a mouse'sand thefalse door-post opened by degreesand left a perpendicular spacethrough which the light streamed in. The doorhad it been boltedwould now have hung by the bare tip of the boltwhich went into thereal door-postbut as it wasit swung gently open of itself. Itopened inwardsso Denys did not raise his crossbow from the groundbut merely grasped his dagger.

Thecandle was held upand shaded from behind by a man's hand.

Hewas inspecting the beds from the thresholdsatisfied that hisvictims were both in bed.

Theman glided into the apartment. But at the first step something in theposition of the cupboard and chair made him uneasy. He ventured nofurtherbut put the candle on the floor and stooped to peer underthe chair; but as he stooped. an iron hand grasped his shoulderanda dagger was driven so fiercely through his neck that the point cameout at his gullet. There was a terrible hiccoughbut no cry; andhalf-a-dozen silent strokes followed in swift successioneach adeath-blowand the assassin was laid noiselessly on the floor.

Denysclosed the doorbolted it gentlydrew the post toand even whilehe was going whispered Gerard to bring a chair. It was done.

"Helpme set him up."

"Dead?"

"Parbleu."

"Whatfor?"

"Frightenthem! Gain time."

Evenwhile saying thisDenys had whipped a piece of string round the deadman's neckand tied him to the chairand there the ghastly figuresat fronting the door.

"DenysI can do better. Saints forgive me!"

"What?Be quick thenwe have not many moments."

AndDenys got his crossbow readyand tearing off his straw mattressreared it before him and prepared to shoot the moment the door shouldopenfor he had no hope any more would come singlywhen they foundthe first did not return.

Whilethus employedGerard was busy about the seated corpseand to hisamazement Denys saw a luminous glow spreading rapidly over the whiteface.

Gerardblew out the candle; and on this the corpse's face shone still morelike a glowworm's head.

Denysshook in his shoesand his teeth chattered.

"Whatin Heaven's nameis this?" he whispered.

"Hush!'tis but phosphorusbut 'twill serve."

"Away!they will surprise thee."

Infactuneasy mutterings were heard belowand at last a deep voicesaid"What makes him so long? is the drole rifling them?"

Itwas their comrade they suspected thennot the enemy. Soon a stepcame softly but rapidly up the stairs: the door was gently tried.

Whenthis resistedwhich was clearly not expectedthe sham post was verycautiously movedand an eye no doubt peeped through the aperture:for there was a howl of dismayand the man was heard to stumble backand burst into the kitchenhere a Babel of voices rose directly onhis return.

Gerardran to the dead thief and began to work on him again.

"Backmadman!" whispered Denys.

"Naynay. I know these ignorant brutes; they will not venture here awhile.I can make him ten times more fearful."

"Atleast close that opening! Let them not see you at your devilishwork."

Gerardclosed the sham postand in half a minute his brush gave the deadhead a sight to strike any man with dismay. He put his art to astrange useand one unparalleled perhaps in the history of mankind.He illuminated his dead enemy's face to frighten his living foe: thestaring eyeballs he made globes of fire; the teeth he left whiteforso they were more terrible by the contrast; but the palate and tonguehe tipped with fireand made one lurid cavern of the red depths thechapfallen jaw revealed: and on the brow he wrote in burning letters"La Mort." Andwhile he was doing itthe stout Denys wasquakingand fearing the vengeance of Heaven; for one mans courage isnot another's; and the band of miscreants below were quarrelling anddisputing loudlyand now without disguise.

Thesteps that led down to the kitchen were fifteenbut they were nearlyperpendicular: there was therefore in point of fact no distancebetween the besiegers and besiegedand the latter now caught almostevery word. At last one was heard to cry out"I tell ye thedevil has got him and branded him with hellfire. I am more like toleave this cursed house than go again into a room that is full offiends."

"Artdrunk? or mad? or a coward?" said another.

"Callme a cowardI'll give thee my dagger's pointand send thee wherePierre sits o' fire for ever.

"Comeno quarrelling when work is afoot" roared a tremendousdiapason"or I'll brain ye both with my fistand send ye wherewe shall all go soon or late."

"TheAbbot" whispered Denys gravely.

Hefelt the voice he had just heard could belong to no man but thecolossus he had seen in passing through the kitchen. It made theplace vibrate. The quarrelling continued some timeand then therewas a dead silence.

"LookoutGerard."

"Ay.What will they do next?"

"Weshall soon know."

"ShallI wait for youor cut down the first that opens the door?"

"Waitfor melest we strike the same and waste a blow. Alas! we cannotafford that."

Deadsilence.

Suddencame into the room a thing that made them start and their heartsquiver.

Andwhat was it? A moonbeam.

Evenso can this machinethe bodyby the soul's actionbe strung up tostart and quiver. The sudden ray shot keen and pure into thatshamble.

Itscalmcoldsilvery soul traversed the apartment in a stream of nogreat volumefor the window was narrow.

Afterthe first tremor Gerard whispered"CourageDenys! God's eye ison us even here." And he fell upon his knees with his faceturned towards the window.

Ayit was like a holy eye opening suddenly on human crime and humanpassions. Many a scene of blood and crime that pure cold eye hadrested on; but on few more ghastly than thiswhere two menwith alighted corpse between themwaited pantingto kill and be killed.Nor did the moonlight deaden that horrible corpse-light. If anythingit added to its ghastliness: for the body sat at the edge of themoonbeamwhich cut sharp across the shoulder and the earand seemedblue and ghastly and unnatural by the side of that lurid glow inwhich the face and eyes and teeth shone horribly. But Denys dared notlook that way.

Themoon drew a broad stripe of light across the doorand on that hiseyes were glued. Presently he whispered"Gerard!"

Gerardlooked and raised his sword.

Acutelyas they had listenedthey had heard of late no sound on the stair.Yet therein the door-postat the edge of the stream of moonlightwere the tips of the fingers of a hand.

Thenails glistened.

Presentlythey began to crawl and crawl down towards the boltbut withinfinite slowness and caution. In so doing they crept into themoonlight. The actual motion was imperceptiblebut slowlyslowlythe fingers came out whiter and whiter; but the hand between the mainknuckles and the wrist remained dark.

Denysslowly raised his crossbow.

Helevelled it. He took a long steady aim.

Gerardpalpitated. At last the crossbow twanged. The hand was instantlynailedwith a stern jarto the quivering door-post. There was ascream of anguish. "Cut" whispered Denys eagerlyandGerard's uplifted sword descended and severed the wrist with twoswift blows. A body sank down moaning outside.

Thehand remained insideimmovablewith blood trickling from it downthe wall. The fierce boltslightly barbedhad gone through it anddeep into the real door-post.

"Two"said Denyswith terrible cynicism.

Hestrung his crossbowand kneeled behind his cover again.

"Thenext will be the Abbot."

Thewounded man movedand presently crawled down to his companions onthe stairsand the kitchen door was shut.

Therenothing was heard now but low muttering. The last incident hadrevealed the mortal character of the weapons used by the besieged.

"Ibegin to think the Abbot's stomach is not so great as his body"said Denys.

Thewords were scarcely out of his mouth when the following eventshappened all in a couple of seconds. The kitchen door was openedroughlya heavy but active man darted up the stairs without anymanner of disguiseand a single ponderous blow sent the door notonly off its hingesbut right across the room on to Denys'sfortificationwhich it struck so rudely as nearly to lay him flat.And in the doorway stood a colossus with a glittering axe.

Hesaw the dead man with the moon's blue light on half his faceand thered light on the other half and inside his chapfallen jaws: hestaredhis arms fellhis knees knocked togetherand he crouchedwith terror.

"LAMORT!" he criedin tones of terrorand turned and fled. Inwhich act Denys started up and shot him through both jaws. He sprangwith one bound into the kitchenand there leaned on his axespitting blood and teeth and curses.

Denysstrung his bow and put his hand into his breast.

Hedrew it out dismayed.

"Mylast bolt is gone" he groaned.

"Butwe have our swordsand you have slain the giant."

"NoGerard" said Denys gravely"I have not. And the worst isI have wounded him. Fool! to shoot at a retreating lion. He had neverfaced thy handiwork againbut for my meddling."

"Ha!to your guard! I hear them open the door."

ThenDenysdepressed by the one error he had committed in all thisfearful nightfelt convinced his last hour had come. He drew hisswordbut like one doomed. But what is this? a red light flickers onthe ceiling. Gerard flew to the window and looked out. There were menwith torchesand breastplates gleaming red. "We are saved!Armed men!" And he dashed his sword through the window shouting"Quick! quick! we are sore pressed."

"Back!"yelled Denys; "they come! strike none but him!"

Thatvery moment the Abbot and two men with naked weapons rushed into theroom. Even as they camethe outer door was hammered fiercelyandthe Abbot's comrades hearing itand seeing the torchlightturnedand fled. Not so the terrible Abbot: wild with rage and painhespurned his dead comradechair and allacross the roomthenasthe men faced him on each side with kindling eyeballshe waved histremendous axe like a feather right and leftand cleared a spacethen lifted it to hew them both in pieces.

Hisantagonists were inferior in strengthbut not in swiftness anddaringand above all they had settled how to attack him. The momenthe reared his axethey flew at him like catsand both together. Ifhe struck a full blow with his weapon he would most likely kill onebut the other would certainly kill him: he saw thisand intelligentas well as powerfulhe thrust the handle fiercely in Denys's faceandturningjobbed with the steel at Gerard. Denys went staggeringback covered with blood. Gerard had rushed in like lightningandjust as the axe turned to descend on himdrove his sword so fiercelythrough the giant's bodythat the very hilt sounded on his ribs likethe blow of a pugilistand Denysstaggering back to help hisfriendsaw a steel point come out of the Abbot behind.

Thestricken giant bellowed like a bulldropped his axeand clutchingGerard's throat tremendouslyshook him like a child. Then Denys witha fierce snarl drove his sword into the giant's back. "Standfirm now!" and he pushed the cold steel through and through thegiant and out at his breast.

Thushorribly spitted on both sidesthe Abbot gave a violent shudderandhis heels hammered the ground convulsively. His lipsfast turningblueopened wide and deepand he cried"LA MORT!-LA MORT!-LAMORT!!" the first time in a roar of despairand then twice in ahorror-stricken whispernever to be forgotten.

Justthen the street door was forced.

Suddenlythe Abbot's arms whirled like windmillsand his huge body wrenchedwildly and carried them to the doorwaytwisting their wrists andnearly throwing them off their legs.

"He'llwin clear yet" cried Denys: "out steel! and in again!"

Theytore out their smoking swordsbut ere they could stab againtheAbbot leaped full five feet highand fell with a tremendous crashagainst the door belowcarrying it away with him like a sheet ofpaperand through the aperture the glare of torches burst on theawe-struck faces abovehalf blinding them.

Thethieves at the first alarm had made for the back doorbut driventhence by a strong guard ran back to the kitchenjust in time to seethe lock forced out of the socketand half-a-dozen mailed archersburst in upon them. On these in pure despair they drew their swords.

Butere a blow was struck on either sidethe staircase door behind themwas battered into their midst with one ponderous blowand with itthe Abbot's body came flyinghurled as they thought by no mortalhandand rolled on the floor spouting blood from back and bosom intwo furious jetsand quiveredbut breathed no more.

Thethieves smitten with dismay fell on their knees directlyand thearchers bound themwhileabovethe rescued ones still stood likestatues rooted to the spottheir dripping swords extended in the redtorchlightexpecting their indomitable enemy to leap back on them aswonderfully as he had gone.

 

CHAPTERXXXIV

"Wherebe the true men?"

"Herebe we. God bless you all! God bless you!"

Therewas a rush to the stairsand half-a-dozen hard but friendly handswere held out and grasped them warmly.

"Y'havesaved our liveslads" cried Denys"y'have saved ourlives this night."

Awild sight met the eyes of the rescued pair. The room flaring withtorchesthe glittering breastplates of the archerstheir bronzedfacesthe white cheeks of the bound thievesand the bleeding giantwhose dead body these hard men left lying there in its own gore.

Gerardwent round the archers and took them each by the hand with glisteningeyesand on this they all kissed him; and this time he kissed themin return. Then he said to one handsome archer of his own age"Pritheegood soldierhave an eye to me. A strange drowsinessovercomes me. Let no one cut my throat while I sleep - for pity'ssake."

Thearcher promised with a laugh; for he thought Gerard was jesting: andthe latter went off into a deep sleep almost immediately.

Denyswas surprised at this: but did not interfere; for it suited hisimmediate purpose. A couple of archers were inspecting the Abbot'sbodyturning it half over with their feetand inquiring"Whichof the two had flung this enormous rogue down from an upper storeylike that; they would fain have the trick of his arm.

Denysat first pished and pshawedbut dared not play the braggartfor hesaid to himself"That young vagabond will break in and say'twas the finger of Heavenand no mortal armor some such stuffand make me look like a fool." But nowseeing Gerardunconscioushe suddenly gave this required information.

"Wellthenyou seecomradesI had run my sword through this one up tothe hiltand one or two more of 'em came buzzing about me; so itbehoved me have my sword or die: so I just put my foot against hisstomachgave a tug with my hand and a spring with my footand senthim flying to kingdom come! He died in the airand his carrionrolled in amongst you without ceremony: made you jumpI warrant me.But pikestaves and pillage! what avails prattling ofthese triflesonce they are gone by? buvonscamaradesbuvons.

Thearchers remarked that it was easy to say "buvons" where noliquor wasbut not so easy to do it.

"NayI'll soon find you liquor. My nose hath a natural alacrity atscenting out the wine. You follow me: and I my nose: bring a torch!"And they left the roomand finding a short flight of stone stepsdescended them and entered a largelowdamp cellar.

Itsmelt close and dank: and the walls were encrusted here and therewith what seemed cobwebs; but proved to be saltpetre that had oozedout of the damp stones and crystallized.

"Oh!the fine mouldy smell" said Denys; "in such places stilllurks the good wine; advance thy torch. Diable! what is that in thecorner? A pile of rags? No: 'tis a man."

Theygathered round with the torchand lo! a figure crouched on a heap inthe cornerpale as ashes and shivering.

"Whyit is the landlord" said Denys.

"Getupthou craven heart!" shouted one of the archers.

"Whymanthe thieves are boundand we are dry that bound them. Up! andshow us thy wine; for no bottles see here."

"Whatbe the rascals bound?" stammered the pale landlord; "goodnews. W-w-wine? that will Ihonest sirs."

Andhe rose with unsure joints and offered to lead the way to the winecellar. But Denys interposed. "You are all in the darkcomrades. He is in league with the thieves."

"Alackgood soldierme in league with the accursed robbers! Is thatreasonable?"

"Thegirl said so anyway."

"Thegirl! What girl? Ah! Curse hertraitress!"

"Well"interposed the other archer; "the girl is not herebut gone onto the bailiff. So let the burghers settle whether this craven beguilty or no: for we caught him not in the act: and let him draw usour wine."

"Onemoment" said Denys shrewdly. "Why cursed he the girl? Ifhe be a true manhe should bless her as we do."

"Alassir!" said the landlord"I have but my good name to livebyand I cursed her to youbecause you said she had belied me."

"Humph!I trow thou art a thiefand where is the thief that cannot lie witha smooth face? Therefore hold himcomrades: a prisoner can draw winean if his hands be not bound."

Thelandlord offered no objection; but on the contrary said he would withpleasure show them where his little stock of wine wasbut hoped theywould pay for what they should drinkfor his rent was due this twomonths.

Thearchers smiled grimly at his simplicityas they thought it; one ofthem laid a hand quietly but firmly on his shoulderthe other led onwith the torch.

Theyhad reached the threshold when Denys cried "Halt!"

"Whatis't?"

"Herebe bottles in this corner; advance thy light."

Thetorch-bearer went towards him. He had just taken off his scabbard andwas probing the heap the landlord had just been crouched upon.

"Naynay" cried the landlord"the wine is in the next cellar.There is nothing there."

"Nothingis mighty hardthen" said Denysand drew out something withhis hand from the heap.

Itproved to be only a bone.

Denysthrew it on the floor: it rattled.

"Thereis nought there but the bones of the house" said the landlord.

"Justnow 'twas nothing. Now that we have found something 'tis nothing butbones. Here's another. Humph? look at this onecomrade; and you cometoo and look at itand bring you smooth knave along."

Thearcher with the torchwhose name was Philippeheld the bone to thelight and turned it round and round.

"Well?"said Denys.

"Wellif this was a field of battleI should say 'twas the shankbone of aman; no moreno less. But 'tisn't a battlefieldnor a churchyard;'tis an inn."

"Truemate; but yon knave's ashy face is as good a light to me as a fieldof battle. I read the bone by itBring yon face nearerI say. Whenthe chine is amissingand the house dog can't look at you withouthis tail creeping between his legswho was the thief? Good brothersminemy mind it doth misgive me. The deeper I thrust the more therebe. Mayhap if these bones could tell their tale they would make truemen's flesh creep that heard it."

"Alas!young manwhat hideous fancies are these! The bones are bones ofbeevesand sheepand kidsand notas you thinkof men and women.Holy saints preserve us!"

"Holdthy peace! thy words are air. Thou hast not got burghers by the earthat know not a veal knuckle from their grandsire's ribs; butsoldiers-men that have gone to look for their dear comradesandfound their bones picked as clean by the crows as these I doubt havebeen by thee and thy mates. Men and womensaidst thou? And pritheewhen spake I a word of women's bones? Wouldst make a child suspectthee. Field of battlecomrade! Was not this house a field of battlehalf an hour agone? Drag him close to melet me read his face: nowthenwhat is thisthou knave?" and he thrust a small objectsuddenly in his face.

"Alas!I know not."

"WellI would not swear neither: but it is too like the thumb bone of aman's hand; matesmy flesh it creeps. Churchyard! how know I this isnot one?"

Andhe now drew his sword out of the scabbard and began to rake the heapof earth and broken crockery and bones out on the floor.

Thelandlord assured him he but wasted his time. "We poor innkeepersare sinners" said he; "we give short measure and baptizethe wine: we are fain to do these things; the laws are so unjust tous; but we are not assassins. How could we afford to kill ourcustomers? May Heaven's lightning strike me dead if there be anybones there but such as have been used for meat. 'Tis the kitchenwench flings them here: I swear by God's holy motherby holy Paulby holy Dominicand Denys my patron saint - ah!"

Denysheld out a bone under his eye in dead silence. It was a bone no manhowever ignoranthowever lyingcould confound with those of sheepor oxen. The sight of it shut the lying lipsand palsied theheartless heart.

Thelandlord's hair rose visibly on his head like spikesand his kneesgave way as if his limbs had been struck from under him. But thearchers dragged him fiercely upand kept him erect under the torchstaring fascinated at the dead skull whichwhite as the living cheekopposedbut no whiterglared back again at its murdererwhose palelip now opened and openedbut could utter no sound.

"Ah!"said Denys solemnlyand trembling now with rage"look on thesockets out of which thou hast picked the eyesand let them blastthine eyesthat crows shall pick out ere this week shall end. Nowhold thou that while I search on. Hold itI sayor here I rob thegallows - " and he threatened the quaking wretch with his nakedswordtill with a groan he took the skull and held italmostfainting.

Oh!that every murdererand contriver of murdercould see himsickand staggering with terrorand with his hair on endholding thecold skulland feeling that his own head would soon be like it. Andsoon the heap was scatteredand alas! not one nor twobut manyskulls were brought to lightthe culprit moaning at each discovery.

SuddenlyDenys uttered a strange cry of distress to come from so bold and harda man; and held up to the torch a mass of human hair. It was longglossyand golden. A woman's beautiful hair. At the sight of it thearchers instinctively shook the craven wretch in their hands: and hewhined.

"Ihave a little sister with hair just so fair and shining as this"gulped Denys. "Jesu! if it should be hers! There quicktake mysword and daggerand keep them from my handlest I strike him deadand wrong the gibbet. And thoupoor innocent victimon whose headthis most lovely hair did growhear me swear thison bended kneenever to leave this man till I see him broken to pieces on the wheeleven for thy sake."

Herose from his knee. "Ayhad he as many lives as here be hairsI'd have them allby God" and he put the hair into his bosom.Then in a sudden fury seized the landlord fiercely by the neckandforced him to his knees; and foot on head ground his face savagelyamong the bones of his victimswhere they lay thickest; and theassassin first yelledthen whined and whimperedjust as a dog firstyellsthen whineswhen his nose is so forced into some leveret orother innocent he has killed.

"Nowlend me thy bowstringPhilippe!" He passed it through the eyesof a skull alternatelyand hung the ghastly relic of mortality andcrime round the man's neck; then pulled him up and kicked himindustriously into the kitchenwhere one of the aldermen of theburgh had arrived with constablesand was even now taking anarcher's deposition.

Thegrave burgher was much startled at sight of the landlord driven inbleeding from a dozen scratches inflicted by the bones of his ownvictimsand carrying his horrible collar. But Denys came pantingafterand in a few fiery words soon made all clear.

"Bindhim like the rest" said the alderman sternly. "I count himthe blackest of them all."

Whilehis hands were being boundthe poor wretch begged piteously that"the skull might be taken from him."

"Humph!"said the alderman. "Certes I had not ordered such a thing to beput on mortal man. Yet being thereI will not lift voice nor fingerto doff it. Methinks it fits thee trulythou bloody dog. 'Tis thyensignand hangs well above a heart so foul as thine."

Hethen inquired of Denys if he thought they had secured the whole gangor but a part.

"Yourworship" said Denys"there are but seven of themandthis landlord. One we slew upstairsone we trundled down deadtherest are bound before you."

"Good!go fetch the dead one from upstairsand lay him beside him I causedto be removed."

Herea voice like a guinea-fowl's broke peevishly in. "Nownownowwhere is the hand? that is what I want to see." The speaker wasa little pettifogging clerk.

"Youwill find it abovenailed to the door-post by a crossbow bolt."

"Good!"said the clerk. He whispered his master"What a goodly showwill the 'pieces de conviction' make!" and with this he wrotethem downenumerating them in separate squeaks as he penned them.Skulls - Bones - A woman's hair - A thief's hands 1 axe -2 carcasses- 1 crossbow bolt. This donehe itched to search the cellar himself:there might be other invaluable morsels of evidencean earor evenan earring. The alderman assentinghe caught up a torch and washurrying thitherwhen an accident stopped himand indeed carriedhim a step or two in the opposite direction.

Theconstables had gone up the stair in single file.

Butthe head constable no sooner saw the phosphorescent corpse seated bythe bedsidethan he stood stupefied; and next he began to shake likeone in an agueandterror gaining on him more and morehe uttereda sort of howl and recoiled swiftly. Forgetting the steps in hisrecoilhe tumbled over backward on his nearest companion; but heshaken by the shout of dismayand catching a glimpse of somethinghorridwas already staggering backand in no condition to sustainthe head constablewholike most head constableswas a ponderousman. The two carried away the thirdand the three the fourthandthey streamed into the kitchenand settled on the flooroverlappingeach other like a sequence laid out on a card-table. The clerk cominghastily with his torch ran an involuntary tilt against the fourthmanwhosharing the momentum of the massknocked him instantly onhis backthe ace of that fair quint; and there he lay kicking andwaving his torchapparently in triumphbut really in convulsionsense and wind being driven out together by the concussion.

"Whatis to do nowin Heaven's name?" cried the aldermanstarting upwith considerable alarm. But Denys explainedand offered toaccompany his worship. "So be it" said the latter. His menpicked themselves ruefully upand the alderman put himself at theirhead and examined the premises above and below. As for the prisonerstheir interrogatory was postponed till they could be confronted withthe servant.

Beforedawnthe thievesalive and deadand all the relics and evidencesof crime and retributionwere swept away into the law's netand theinn was silent and almost deserted. There remained but one constableand Denys and Gerardthe latter still sleeping heavily.

 

CHAPTERXXXV

Gerardawokeand found Denys watching him with some anxiety.

"Itis you for sleeping! Why'tis high noon."

"Itwas a blessed sleep" said Gerard; "methinks Heaven sent itme. It hath put as it were a veil between me and that awful night. Tothink that you and I sit here alive and well. How terrible a dream Iseem to have had!"

"Ayladthat is the wise way to look at these things when once they arepastwhythey are dreamsshadows. Break thy fastand then thouwilt think no more on't. MoreoverI promised to bring thee on to thetown by noonand take thee to his worship."

Gerardthen sopped some rye bread in red wine and ate it to break his fast:then went with Denys over the scene of combatand came backshudderingand finally took the road with his friendand keptpeering through the hedgesand expecting sudden attacksunreasonablytill they reached the little town. Denys took him to"The White Hart".

"Nofear of cut-throats here" said he. "I know the landlordthis many a year. He is a burgessand looks to be bailiff. 'Tis hereI was making for yestreen. But we lost timeand night o'ertook us -and -

"Andyou saw a woman at the doorand would be wiser than a Jeanneton; shetold us they were nought."

"Whywhat saved our lives if not a woman? Ayand risked her own to doit."

"Thatis trueDenys; and though women are nothing to meI long to thankthis poor girland reward heraythough I share every doit in mypurse with her. Do not you?"

"Parbleu."

"Whereshall we find her?"

"Mayhapthe alderman will tell us. We must go to him first."

Thealderman received them with a most singular and inexplicableexpression of countenance. Howeverafter a moment's reflectionhewore a grim smileand finally proceeded to put interrogatories toGerardand took down the answers. This donehe told them that theymust stay in the town till the thieves were triedand be at hand togive evidenceon peril of fine and imprisonment. They looked veryblank at this.

"However"said he"'twill not be longthe culprits having been takenred-handed." He added"And you knowin any case you couldnot leave the place this week."

Denysstared at this remarkand Gerard smiled at what he thought thesimplicity of the old gentleman in dreaming that a provincial town ofBurgundy had attraction to detain him from Rome and Margaret.

Henow went to that which was nearest both their hearts.

"Yourworship" said he"we cannot find our benefactress in thetown."

"Naybut who is your benefactress?"

"Who?why the good girl that came to you by night and saved our lives atperil of her own. Oh sirour hearts burn within us to thank andbless her; where is she?"

 

CHAPTERXXXVI

"Inprisonsir; good lackfor what misdeed?"

"Wellshe is a witnessand may be a necessary one."

"WhyMessire Bailiff" put in Denys"you lay not all yourwitnesses by the heels I trow."

Thealdermanpleased at being called bailiffbecame communicative. "Ina case of blood we detain all testimony that is like to give us legbailand so defeat justiceand that is why we still keep the womenfolk. For a man at odd times hides a week in one mindbut a womanif she do her duty to the realm o' Fridayshe shall undo it aforeSundayor try. Could you see yon wench nowyou should find hera-blubbering at having betrayed five males to the gallows. Had theybeen femaleswe might have trusted to a subpoena. For they despiseone another. And there they show some sense. But now I think on'tthere were other reasons for laying this one by the heels. Hand methose depositionsyoung sir." And he put on his glasses. "Ay!she was implicated; she was one of the band."

Aloud disclaimer burst from Denys and Gerard at once.

"Noneed to deave me" said the alderman. "Here 'tis in blackand white. 'Jean Hardy (that is one of the thieves)beingquestionedconfessed that - humph? Ayhere 'tis. 'And that the girlManon was the decoyand her sweetheart was Georges Vipontone ofthe band; and hanged last month: and that she had been deject eversinceand had openly blamed the band for his deathsaying if theyhad not been rank cowardshe had never been takenand it is hisopinion she did but betray them out of very spiteand -

"Hisopinion" cried Gerard indignantly; "what signifies theopinion of a cut-throatburning to be revenged on her who hasdelivered him to justice? And an you go to thatwhat avails histestimony? Is a thief never a liar? Is he not aye a liar? and here amotive to lie? Revengewhy'tis the strongest of all the passions.And ohsirwhat madness to question a detected felon and listen tohim lying away an honest life - as if he were a true man swearing inopen daywith his true hand on the Gospel laid!"

"Youngman" said the alderman"restrain thy heat in presence ofauthority! I find by your tone you are a stranger. Know then that inthis land we question all the world. We are not so weak as to hope toget at the truth by shutting either our left ear or our right."

"Andso you would listen to Satan belying the saints!"

"Ta!ta! The law meddles but with men and womenand these cannot utter astory all lieslet them try ever so. Wherefore we shut not thebarn-door (as the saying is) against any man's grain. Only havingtaken it inwe do winnow and sift it. And who told you I hadswallowed the thief's story whole like fair water? Not so. I did butcredit so much on't as was borne out by better proof."

"Betterproof?" and Gerard looked blank. "Whywho but the thieveswould breathe a word against her?"

"Marryherself."

"Herselfsir? whatdid you question her too?"

"Itell you we question all the world. Here is her deposition; can youread? - Read it yourselfthen."

Gerardlooked at Denys and read him Manon's deposition.

"Iam a native of Epinal. I left my native place two years ago because Iwas unfortunate: I could not like the man they bade me. So my fatherbeat me. I ran away from my father. I went to service. I left servicebecause the mistress was jealous of me. The reason that she gave forturning me off wasbecause I was saucy. Last year I stood in themarketplace to be hired with other girls. The landlord of 'The FairStar' hired me. I was eleven months with him. A young man courted me.I loved him. I found out that travellers came and never went awayagain. I told my lover. He bade me hold my peace. He threatened me. Ifound my lover was one of a band of thieves. When travellers were tobe robbedthe landlord went out and told the band to come. Then Iwept and prayed for the travellers' souls. I never told. A month agomy lover died.

"Thesoldier put me in mind of my lover. He was bearded like him I hadlost. I cannot tell whether I should have interferedif he had hadno beard. I am sorry I told now."

Thepaper almost dropped from Gerard's hands. Now for the first time hesaw that Manon's life was in mortal danger. He knew the dogged lawand the dogged men that executed it. He threw himself suddenly on hisknees at the alderman's feet. "Ohsir! think of the differencebetween those cruel men and this poor weak woman! Could you have theheart to send her to the same death with them; could you have theheart to condemn us to look on and see her slaughteredwhobut thatshe risked her life for ourshad not now been in jeopardy? Alassir! show me and my comrade some pityif you have none for herpoorsoul. Denys and I be true menand you will rend our hearts if youkill that poor simple girl. What can we do? What is left for us to dothen but cut our throats at her gallows' foot?"

Thealderman was toughbut mortal; the prayers and agitation of Gerardfirst astoundedthen touched him. He showed it in a curious way. Hebecame peevish and fretful. "Thereget updo" said he."I doubt whether anybody would say as many words for me. WhathoDaniel! go fetch the town clerk." And on that functionaryentering from an adjoining room'Here is a foolish lad frettingabout yon girl. Can we stretch a point? say we admit her to bearwitnessand question her favourably."

Thetown clerk was one of your "impossibility" men.

"Naysirwe cannot do that: she was not concerned in this business. Hadshe been accessorywe might have offered her a pardon to bearwitness."

Gerardburst in"But she did better. Instead of being accessoryshestayed the crime; and she proffered herself as witness by runninghither with the tale."

"Tushyoung man'tis a matter of law." The alderman and the clerkthen had a long discussionthe one maintainingthe other denyingthat she stood as fair in law as if she had been accessory to theattempt on our travellers' lives. And this was lucky for Manon: forthe aldermanirritated by the clerk reiterating that he could not dothisand could not thatand could not do t'othersaid "hewould show him he could do anything he chose" And he had Manonoutand upon the landlord of "The White Hart" being herbondsmanand Denys depositing five gold pieces with himand thegirl promisingnot without some coaxing from Denysto attend as awitnesshe liberated herbut eased his conscience by telling her inhis own terms his reason for this leniency.

"Thetown had to buy a new rope for everybody hangedand present it tothe bourreauor compound with him in money: and she was not in hisopinion worth this municipal expensewhereas decided characters likeher late confederateswere." And so Denys and Gerard carriedher offGerard dancing round her for joyDenys keeping up her heartby assuring her of the demise of a troublesome personageand sheweeping inauspiciously. Howeveron the road to "The White Hart"the public found her outand having heard the whole story from thearcherswho naturally told it warmly in her favourfollowed herhurrahing and encouraging hertill finding herself backed by numbersshe plucked up heart. The landlord too saw at a glance that herpresence in the inn would draw customand received her politelyandassigned her an upper chamber: here she buried herselfand beingalone rained tears again.

Poorlittle mindit was like a rippleup and downdown and upup anddown. Bidding the landlord be very kind to herand keep her aprisoner without letting her feel itthe friends went out: and lo!as they stepped into the street they saw two processions comingtowards them from opposite sides. One was a large oneattended withnoise and howls and those indescribable cries by which rude naturesreveal at odd times that relationship to the beasts of the field andforestwhich at other times we succeed in hiding. The otherverythinly attended by a few nuns and friarscame slow and silent.

Theprisoners going to exposure in the market-place. The gathered bonesof the victims coming to the churchyard.

Andthe two met in the narrow street nearly at the inn doorand couldnot pass each other for a long timeand the bierthat bore therelics of mortalitygot wedged against the cart that carried the menwho had made those bones what they wereand in a few hours must diefor it themselves. The mob had not the quick intelligence to be atonce struck with this stern meeting: but at last a woman cried"Lookat your workye dogs!" and the crowd took it like wildfireandthere was a horrible yelland the culprits groaned and tried to hidetheir heads upon their bosomsbut could nottheir hands being tied.And there they stoodimages of pale hollow-eyed despairand oh howthey looked on the bierand envied those whom they had sent beforethem on the dark road they were going upon themselves! And the twomen who were the cause of both processions stood and looked gravelyonand even Manonhearing the disturbancecrept to the windowandhiding her facepeeped trembling through her fingersas womenwill.

Thisstrange meeting parted Denys and Gerard. The former yielded tocuriosity and revengethe latter doffed his bonnetand piouslyfollowed the poor remains of those whose fate had so nearly been hisown. For some time he was the one lay mourner: but when they hadreached the suburbsa long way from the greater attraction that wasfilling the market-placemore than one artisan threw down his toolsand more than one shopman left his shopand touched with pity or asense of our common humanityand perhaps decided somewhat by theexample of Gerardfollowed the bones bareheadedand saw themdeposited with the prayers of the Church in hallowed ground.

Afterthe funeral rites Gerard stepped respectfully up to the cureandoffered to buy a mass for their souls.

Gerardson of Catherinealways looked at two sides of a penny: and he triedto purchase this mass a trifle under the usual termson account ofthe pitiable circumstances. But the good cure gently but adroitlyparried his ingenuityand blandly screwed him up to the marketprice.

Inthe course of the business they discovered a similarity ofsentiments. Piety and worldly prudence are not very rare companions:still it is unusual to carry both so far as these two men did. Theircollision in the prayer market led to mutual esteemas when knightencountered knight worthy of his steel. moreover the good cure loveda bit of gossipand finding his customer was one of those who hadfought the thieves at Domfrontwould have him into his parlour andhear the whole from his own lips. And his heart warmed to Gerardandhe said "God was good to thee. I thank Him for't with all mysoul. Thou art a good lad." He added drily"Shouldst havetold me this tale in the churchyard. I doubtI had given thee themass for love. However" said he (the thermometer suddenlyfalling)"'tis ill luck to go back upon a bargain. But I'llbroach a bottle of my old Medoc for thee: and few be the guests Iwould do that for." The cure went to his cupboardand while hegroped for the choice bottlehe muttered to himself"At theirold tricks again!"

"Plait-il?"said Gerard.

"Isaid nought. Ayhere 'tis."

"Nayyour reverence. You surely spoke: you said'At their old tricksagain!'"

"SaidI so in sooth?" and his reverence smiled. He then proceeded tobroach the wineand filled a cup for each. Then he put a log of woodon the firefor stoves were none in Burgundy. "And so I said'At their old tricks!' did I? Comesip the good wineandwhilst itlastsstory for storyI care not if I tell you a little tale."

Gerard'seyes sparkled.

"Thoulovest a story?"

"Asmy life."

"Naybut raise not thine expectations too highneither. 'Tis but afoolish trifle compared with thine adventures."

THECURE'S TALE.

"Onceupon a timethenin the kingdom of Franceand in the duchy ofBurgundyand not a day's journey from the town where now we sita-sipping of old Medocthere lived a cure. I say he lived; butbarely. The parish was smallthe parishioners greedy; and never gavetheir cure a doit more than he could compel. The nearer they broughthim to a disembodied spirit by meagre dietthe holier should be hisprayers in their behalf. I know not if this was their creedbuttheir practice gave it colour.

"Atlast he pickled a rod for them.

"Oneday the richest farmer in the place had twins to baptize. The curewas had to the christening dinner as usual; but ere he would baptizethe childrenhe demandednot the christening fees onlybut theburial fees. 'Saints defend usparsoncried the mother; 'talk notof burying! I did never see children liker to live.' 'Nor I' saidthe cure'the praise be to God. Nathelessthey are sure to diebeing sons of Adamas well as of theedame. But die when they will'twill cost them nothingthe burial fees being paid and entered inthis book.' 'For all that 'twill cost them something' quoth themillerthe greatest wag in the placeand as big a knave as any; forwhich was the biggest God knowethbut no mortal mannot even thehangman. 'MillerI tell thee nay' quo' the cure. 'ParsonI tellyou ay' quo' the miller. ''Twill cost them their lives.' At whichmillstone conceit was a great laugh; and in the general mirth thefees were paid and the Christians made.

"Butwhen the next parishioner's childand the next afterand allhadto pay each his burial feeor lose his place in heavendiscontentdid secretly rankle in the parish. Wellone fine day they met insecretand sent a churchwarden with a complaint to the bishopand athunderbolt fell on the poor cure. Came to him at dinner-time asummons to the episcopal palaceto bring the parish books and answercertain charges. Then the cure guessed where the shoe pinched. Heleft his food on the boardfor small his appetite nowand took theparish books and went quaking.

"Thebishop entertained him with a frownand exposed the plaint.'Monseigneur' said the cure right humbly'doth the parish allegemany things against meor this one only?' 'In soothbut this one'said the bishopand softened a little. 'FirstmonseigneurIacknowledge the fact.' ''Tis well' quoth the bishop; 'that savestime and trouble. Now to your excuseif excuse there be.''MonseigneurI have been cure of that parish seven yearsand fiftychildren have I baptizedand buried not five. At first I used tosay"Heaven be praisedthe air of this village is mainhealthy;" but on searching the register book I found 'twasalways soand on probing the matterit came out that of those bornat Domfrontallbut here and there onedid go and get hanged atAix. But this was to defraud not their cure onlybut the entireChurch of her duessince "pendards" pay no funeral feesbeing buried in air. Thereuponknowing by sad experience theirgreedand how they grudge the Church every souI laid a trap tokeep them from hanging; forgreed against greedthere be of themthat will die in their beds like true men ere the Church shall gainthose funeral fees for nought.' Then the bishop laughed till thetears ran downand questioned the churchwardenand he was fain toconfess that too many of the parish did come to that unlucky end atAix. 'Then' said the bishop'I do approve the actfor myself andmy successors; and so be it evertill they mend their manners anddie in their beds.' And the next day came the ringleaders crestfallento the cureand said'Parsonye were even good to usbarring thisuntoward matter: prithee let there be no ill blood anent so trivial athing.' And the cure said'My childrenI were unworthy to be yourpastor could I not forgive a wrong; go in peaceand get me as manychildren as may bethat by the double fees the cure you love maymiss starvation.'

"Andthe bishop often told the storyand it kept his memory of the curealiveand at last he shifted him to a decent parishwhere he canoffer a glass of old Medoc to such as are worthy of it. Their name itis not legion."

Alight broke in upon Gerardhis countenance showed it.

"Ay!"said his host"I am that cure: so now thou canst guess why Isaid 'At their old tricks.' My life on't they have wheedled mysuccessor into remitting those funeral fees. You are well out of thatparish. And so am I."

Thecure's little niece burst in"Unclethe weighing - la! astranger!" And burst out.

Thecure rose directlybut would not part with Gerard.

"Wetthy beard once moreand come with me."

Inthe church porch they found the sexton with a huge pair of scalesand weights of all sizes. Several humble persons were standing byand soon a woman stepped forward with a sickly child and said"Beit heavy be it lightI vowin rye meal of the bestwhate'er thischild shall weighand the same will duly pay to Holy Churchan ifhe shall cast his trouble. Praygood peoplefor this childand forme his mother hither come in dole and care!"

Thechild was weighedand yelled as if the scale had been the font.

"Courage!dame" cried Gerard. "This is a good sign. There is plentyof life here to battle its trouble."

"Nowblest be the tongue that tells me so" said the poor woman. Shehushed her ponderling against her bosomand stood aloof watchingwhilst another woman brought her child to scale.

Butpresently a louddictatorial voice was heard"Way theremakeway for the seigneur!"

Thesmall folk parted on both sides like waves ploughed by a lordlygalleyand in marched in gorgeous attirehis cap adorned by afeather with a topaz at its roothis jerkin richly furredsatindoubletred hoseshoes like skatesdiamond-hilted sword in velvetscabbardand hawk on his wrist"the lord of the manor.' Heflung himself into the scales as if he was lord of the zodiac as wellas the manor: whereat the hawk balanced and flapped; but stuck: thenwinked.

Whilethe sexton heaved in the great weightsthe cure told Gerard"Mylord had been sick unto deathand vowed his weight in bread andcheese to the poorthe Church taking her tenth."

"Permitmemy lord; if your lordship continues to press your lordship'sstaff on the other scaleyou will disturb the balance."

Hislordship grinned and removed his staffand leaned on it. The curepolitely but firmly objected to that too.

"Millediables! what am I to do with itthen?" cried the other.

"Deignto hold it out somy lordwide of both scales."

Whenmy lord did thisand so fell into the trap he had laid for HolyChurchthe good cure whispered to Gerard. "Cretensis incidit inCretensem!" which I take to mean"Diamond cut diamond."He then said with an obsequious air"If that your lordshipgrudges Heaven full weightyou might set the hawk on your lacqueyand so save a pound."

"Gramercyfor thy redecure" cried the great manreproachfully. "ShallI for one sorry pound grudge my poor fowl the benefit of Holy Church?I'd as lieve the devil should have me and all my house as heranyday i' the year."

"Sweetis affection" whispered the cure.

"Betweena bird and a brute" whispered Gerard.

"Tush!"and the cure looked terrified.

Theseigneur's weight was bookedand Heaven I trust and believe did notweigh his gratitude in the balance of the sanctuary. For my unlearnedreader is not to suppose there was anything the least eccentric inthe manor his gratitude to the Giver of health and all good gifts.Men look forward to deathand back upon past sickness with differenteyes. Itemwhen men drive a bargainthey strive to get the sunnyside of it; it matters not one straw whether it is with man or Heaventhey are bargaining. In this respect we are the same nowat bottomas we were four hundred years ago: only in those days we did it agrain or two more naivelyand that naivete shone out more palpablybecausein that rude agebody prevailing over mindall sentimentstook material forms. Man repented with scourgesprayed by beadbribed the saints with wax tapersput fish into the body to sanctifythe soulsojourned in cold water for empire over the emotionsandthanked God for returning health in 1 cwt. 2 stone 7 lb 3 oz. 1 dwt.of bread and cheese.

WhilstI have been preachingwho preach so rarely and so illthe good curehas been soliciting the lord of the manor to step into the churchand give order what shall be done with his great-great-grandfather.

"Odsbodikins! whathave you dug him up?"

"Naymy lordhe never was buried."

"Whatthe old dict was true after all?"

"Sotrue that the workmen this very day found a skeleton erect in thepillar they are repairing. I had sent to my lord at oncebut I knewhe would be here."

"Itis he! 'Tis he!" said his descendantquickening his pace. "Letus go see the old boy. This youth is a strangerI think."

Gerardbowed.

"Knowthen that my great-great-grandfather held his head high. and being onthe point of deathrevolted against lying under the aisle with hisforbears for mean folk to pass over. Soas the tradition goesheswore his son (my great-grandfather)to bury him erect in one of thepillars of the church" (here they entered the porch). "'For'quoth he'NO BASE MAN SHALL PASS OVER MY STOMACH.' Peste!" andeven while speakinghis lordship parried adroitly with his stick askull that came hopping at himbowled by a boy in the middle of theaislewho took to his heels yelling with fear the moment he saw whathe had done. His lordship hurled the skull furiously after him as heranat which the cure gave a shout of dismay and put forth his armto hinder himbut was too late.

Thecure groaned aloud. And as if this had evoked spirits of mischiefupstarted a whole pack of children from some ambuscadeand unseenbutheard loud enoughclattered out of the church like a covey rising ina thick wood.

"Oh!these pernicious brats" cried the cure. "The workmencannot go to their nonemete but the church is rife with them. PrayHeaven they have not found his late lordship; nayI mindI hid hislordship under a workmen's jerkinand - saints defend us! the jerkinhas been moved."

Thepoor cure's worst misgivings were realized: the rising generation ofthe plebians had played the mischief with the haughty old noble. "Thelittle ones had jockeyed for the bones oh" and pocketed such ofthem as seemed adapted for certain primitive games then in vogueamongst them.

"I'llexcommunicate them" roared the curate"and all theirrace."

"Neverheed" said the scapegrace lord: and stroked his hawk; "thereis enough of him to swear by. Put him back! put him back!"

"Surelymy lord'tis your will his bones be laid in hallowed earthandmasses said for his poor prideful soul?"

Thenoble stroked his hawk.

"Areye thereMaster Cure?" said he. "Naythe business is tooold: he is out of purgatory by this timeup or down. I shall notdraw my purse-strings for him. Every dog his day. AdieuMessiresadieuancestor;" and he sauntered off whistling to his hawk andcaressing it.

Hisreverence looked ruefully after him.

"Cretensisincidit in Cretensem" said he sorrowfully. "I thought Ihad him safe for a dozen masses. Yet I blame him notbut that youngne'er-do-weel which did trundle his ancestor's skull at us: for whocould venerate his great-great-grandsire and play football with hishead? Well it behoves us to be better Christians than he is." Sothey gathered the bones reverentlyand the cure locked them upandforbade the workmenwho now entered the churchto close up thepillartill he should recover by threats of the Church's wrath everyatom of my lord. And he showed Gerard a famous shrine in the church.Before it were the usual gifts of tapersetc. There was also a waximage of a falconmost curiously moulded and coloured to the lifeeyes and all. Gerard's eye fell at once on thisand he expressed theliveliest admiration. The cure assented. Then Gerard asked"Couldthe saint have loved hawking?"

Thecure laughed at his simplicity. "Nay'tis but a statuary hawk.When they have a bird of gentle breed they cannot trainthey makehis imageand send it to this shrine with a presentand pray thesaint to work upon the stubborn mind of the originaland make itductile as wax: that is the notionand methinks a reasonable onetoo."

Gerardassented. "But alackreverend sirwere I a saintmethinks Ishould side with the innocent doverather than with the cruel hawkthat rends her."

"BySt. Denys you are right" said the cure. "Butquevoulez-vous? the saints are debonairand have been flesh themselvesand know man's frailty and absurdity. 'Tis the Bishop of Avignon sentthis one."

"What!do bishops hawk in this country?"

"Oneand all. Every noble person hawksand lives with hawk on wrist. Whymy lord abbot hard byand his lordship that has just parted from ushad a two years' feud as to where they should put their hawks down onthat very altar there. Each claimed the right hand of the altar forhis bird."

"Whatdesecration!"

"Nay!nay! thou knowest we make them doff both glove and hawk to take theblessed eucharist. Their jewelled gloves will they give to a servantor simple Christian to hold: but their beloved hawks they will putdown on no place less than the altar."

Gerardinquired how the battle of the hawks ended.

"Whythe abbot he yieldedas the Church yields to laymen. He searchedancient booksand found that the left hand was the more honourablebeing in truth the right handsince the altar is eastbut lookswestward. So he gave my lord the soi-disant right handand contentedhimself with the real right handand even so may the Church stilloutwit the lay nobles and their arrogancesaving your presence."

"NaysirI honour the Church. I am convent bredand owe all I have andam to Holy Church."

"Ahthat accounts for my sudden liking to thee. Art a gracious youth.Come and see me whenever thou wilt."

Gerardtook this as a hint that he might go now. It jumped with his ownwishfor he was curious to hear what Denys had seen and done allthis time. He made his reverence and walked out of the church; butwas no sooner clear of it than he set off to run with all his might:and tearing round a cornerran into a large stomachwhose ownerclutched himto keep himself steady under the shock; but did notrelease his hold on regaining his equilibrium.

"Letgoman" said Gerard.

"Notso. You are my prisoner."

"Prisoner?"

"Ay."

"Whatforin Heaven's name?"

"Whatfor? Whysorcery."

"SORCERY?"

"Sorcery."

 

CHAPTERXXXVII

Theculprits were condemned to stand pinioned in the marketplace for twohoursthat should any persons recognize them or any of them asguilty of other crimesthey might depose to that effect at thetrial.

Theystoodhoweverthe whole periodand no one advanced anything freshagainst them. This was the less remarkable that they were nightbirdsvampires who preyed in the dark on weary travellersmostlystrangers.

Butjust as they were being taken downa fearful scream was heard in thecrowdand a woman pointed at one of themwith eyes almost startingfrom their sockets: but ere she could speak she fainted away.

Thenmen and women crowded round herpartly to aid herpartly fromcuriosity. When she began to recover they fell to conjectures.

"'Twasat him she pointed."

"Nay'twas at this one."

"Naynay" said another"'twas at yon hangdog with the hairhung round his neck."

Allfurther conjectures were cut short. The poor creature no soonerrecovered her senses than she flew at the landlord like a lioness."My child! Man! man! Give me back my child." And she seizedthe glossy golden hair that the officers had hung round his neckandtore it from his neckand covered it with kisses; thenher poorconfused mind clearingshe saw even by this token that her lost girlwas deadand sank suddenly down shrieking and sobbing so over thepoor hairthat the crowd rushed on the assassin with one savagegrowl. His life had ended then and speedilyfor in those days allcarried death at their girdles. But Denys drew his sword directlyand shouting "A moicamarades!" kept the mob at bay. "Wholays a finger on him dies." Other archers backed himand withsome difficulty they kept him uninjuredwhile Denys appealed tothose who shouted for his blood.

"Whatsort of vengeance is this? would you be so mad as rob the wheelandgive the vermin an easy death?"

Themob was kept passive by the archers' steel rather than by Denys'swordsand growled at intervals with flashing eyes. The municipalofficersseeing thiscollected roundand with the archers made aguardand prudently carried the accused back to gaol.

Themob hooted them and the prisoners indiscriminately. Denys saw thelatter safely lodgedthen made for "The White Hart" wherehe expected to find Gerard.

Onthe way he saw two girls working at a first-floor window. He salutedthem. They smiled. He entered into conversation. Their manners wereeasytheir complexion high.

Heinvited them to a repast at "The White Hart." Theyobjected. He acquiesced in their refusal. They consented. And in thischarming society he forgot all about poor Gerardwho meantime wascarried off to gaol; but on the way suddenly stoppedhaving nowsomewhat recovered his presence of mindand demanded to know bywhose authority he was arrested.

"Bythe vice-baillie's" said the constable.

"Thevice-baillie? Alas! what have Ia strangerdone to offend avice-baillie? For this charge of sorcery must be a blind. No sorcereram I; but a poor true lad far from his home"

Thisvague shift disgusted the officer. "Show him the capiasJacques" said he.

Jacquesheld out the writ in both hands about a yard and a half from Gerard'seye; and at the same moment the large constable suddenly pinned him;both officers were on tenterhooks lest the prisoner should grab thedocumentto which they attached a superstitious importance.

Butthe poor prisoner had no such thought. Query whether he would havetouched it with the tongs. He just craned out his neck and read itand to his infinite surprise found the vice-bailiff who had signedthe writ was the friendly alderman. He took courage and assured hiscaptor there was some error. But finding he made no impressiondemanded to be taken before the alderman.

"Whatsay you to thatJacques?"

"Impossible.We have no orders to take him before his worship. Read the writ!"

"Naybut good kind fellowswhat harm can it be? I will give you each anecu."

"Jacqueswhat say you to that?"

"Humph!I say we have no orders not to take him to his worship. Read thewrit!"

"Thensay we take him to prison round by his worship."

Itwas agreed. They got the money; and bade Gerard observe they weredoing him a favour. He saw they wanted a little gratitude as well asmuch silver. He tried to satisfy this cupiditybut it stuck in histhroat. Feigning was not his forte.

Heentered the alderman's presence with his heart in his mouthandbegged with faltering voice to know what he had done to offend sincehe left that very room with Manon and Denys.

"Noughtthat I know of" said the alderman.

Onthe writ being shown himhe told Gerard he had signed it atdaybreak. "I get oldand my memory faileth me: a discussing ofthe girl I quite forgot your own offence: but I remember now. All iswell. You are he I committed for sorcery. Stay! ere you go to gaolyou shall hear what your accuser says: run and fetch himyou.

Theman could not find the accuser all at once. So the aldermangettingimpatienttold Gerard the main charge was that he had set a deadbody a burning with diabolical firethat flamedbut did notconsume. "And if 'tis trueyoung manI'm sorry for theeforthou wilt assuredly burn with fire of good pine logs in themarket-place of Neufchasteau."

"Ohsirfor pity's sake let me have speech with his reverence the cure."

Thealderman advised Gerard against it. "The Church was harder uponsorcerers than was the corporation."

"ButsirI am innocent" said Gerardbetween snarling and whining.

"Ohif you think you are innocent - officergo with him to the cure; butsee he 'scape you not. Innocentquotha?"

Theyfound the cure in his doublet repairing a wheelbarrow. Gerard toldhim alland appealed piteously to him. "Just for using a littlephosphorus in selfdefence against cut-throats they are going tohang."

Itwas lucky for our magician that he had already told his tale in fullto the curefor thus that shrewd personage had hold of the stick atthe right end. The corporation held it by the ferule. His reverencelooked exceedingly grave and said"I must question youprivately on this untoward business." He took him into a privateroom and bade the officer stand outside and guard the doorand beready to come if called. The big constable stood outside the doorquakingand expecting to see the room fly away and leave a stink ofbrimstone. Instantly they were alone the cure unlocked hiscountenance and was himself again.

"Showme the trick on't" said heall curiosity.

"Icannotsirunless the room be darkened."

Thecure speedily closed out the light with a wooden shutter. "Nowthen."

"Buton what shall I put it?" said Gerard. "Here is no deadface. 'Twas that made it look so dire." The cure groped aboutthe room. "Good; here is an image: 'tis my patron saint."

"Heavenforbid! That were profanation."

"Pshaw!'twill rub offwill't not?"

"Aybut it goes against me to take such liberty with a saint"objected the sorcerer.

"Fiddlestick!"said the divine.

"Tobe sure by putting it on his holiness will show your reverence it isno Satanic art."

"Mayhap'twas for that I did propose it." said the cure subtly.

ThusencouragedGerard fired the eyes and nostrils of the image and madethe cure jump. Then lighted up the hair in patches; and set the wholeface shining like a glow-worm's.

"By'rLady" shouted the cure"'tis strangeand small my wonderthat they took you for a magicianseeing a dead face thus fired. Nowcome thy ways with me!"

Heput on his grey gown and great hatand in a few minutes they foundthemselves in presence of the alderman. By his sidepoisoning hismindstood the accusera singular figure in red hose and red shoesa black gown with blue bandsand a cocked hat.

Aftersaluting the aldermanthe cure turned to this personage and saidgood-humouredly"SoMangisat thy work againbabbling awayhonest men's lives! Comeyour worshipthis is the old tale! two ofa trade can ne'er agree. Here is Mangiswho professes sorceryandwould sell himself to Satan to-nightbut that Satan is not so weakas buy what he can have gratisthis Mangiswho would be a sorcererbut is only a quacksalveraccuses of magic a true ladwho did butuse in self-defence a secret of chemistry well-known to me and allchurchmen."

"Buthe is no churchmanto dabble in such mysteries" objected thealderman.

"Heis more churchman than laymanbeing convent bredand in the lesserorders" said the ready cure. "Thereforesorcererwithdraw thy plaint without more words!"

"ThatI will notyour reverence" replied Mangis stoutly. "Asorcerer I ambut a white onenot a black one. I make no pact withSatanbut on the contrary still battle him with lawful and necessaryartsI ne'er profane the sacramentsas do the black sorcerersnorturn myself into a cat and go sucking infants' bloodnor e'en theirbreathnor set dead men o' fire. I but tell the peasants when theircattle and their hens are possessedand at what time of the moon toplant ryeand what days in each month are lucky for wooing of womenand selling of bullocks and so forth: above allit is my art and mytrade to detect the black magiciansas I did that whole tribe ofthem who were burnt at Dol but last year."

"AyMangis. And what is the upshot of that famous fire thy tongue didkindle?"

"Whytheir ashes were cast to the wind."

"Ay.But the true end of thy comedy is this. The parliament of Dijon hathsince sifted the matterand found they were no sorcerersbut goodand peaceful citizens; and but last week did order masses to be saidfor their soulsand expiatory farces and mysteries to be played forthem in seven towns of Burgundy; all which will not of those cindersmake men and women again. Now 'tis our custom in this landwhen wehave slain the innocent by hearkening false knaves like theenot toblame our credulous earsbut the false tongue that gulled them.Therefore bethink thee thatat a word from me to my lord bishopthou wilt smell burning pine nearer than e'er knave smelt it andlivedand wilt travel on a smoky cloud to him whose heart thoubearest (for the word devil in the Latin it meaneth 'false accuser')and whose livery thou wearest."

Andthe cure pointed at Mangis with his staff.

"Thatis true i'fegs" said the alderman"for red and black bethe foul fiendys colours."

Bythis time the white sorcerer's cheek was as colourless as his dresswas fiery. Indeed the contrast amounted to pictorial. He stammeredout"I respect Holy Church and her will; he shall fire thechurchyardand all in itfor me: I do withdraw the plaint."

"Thenwithdraw thyself" said the vice-bailiff.

Themoment he was gone the cure took the conversational toneand toldthe alderman courteously that the accused had received the chemicalsubstance from Holy Churchand had restored it herby giving it allto him.

"Then'tis in good hands" was the reply; "young manyou arefree. Let me have your reverence's prayers."

"Doubtit not! Humph! Vice-bailliethe town owes me four silver franksthis three months and more."

"Theyshall be paidcureayere the week be out."

Onthis good understanding Church and State parted. As soon as he was inthe street Gerard caught the priest's handand kissed it.

"Ohsir! Ohyour reverence. You have saved me from the fiery stake. Whatcan I saywhat do? what

"Noughtfoolish lad. Bounty rewards itself. Natheless - Humph? - I wish I haddone't without leasing. It ill becomes my function to utterfalsehoods."

"Falsehoodsir?" Gerard was mystified.

"Didstnot hear me say thou hadst given me that same phosphorus? 'Twill costme a fortnight's penancethat light word." The cure sighedandhis eye twinkled cunningly.

"Naynay" cried Gerard eagerly. "Now Heaven forbid! That was nofalsehoodfather: well you knew the phosphorus was yoursis yours."And he thrust the bottle into the cure's hand. "But alas'tistoo poor a gift: will you not take from my purse somewhat for HolyChurch?" and now he held out his purse with glistening eyes.

"Nay"said the other brusquelyand put his hands quickly behind him; "nota doit. Fie! fie! art pauper et exul. Come thou rather each day atnoon and take thy diet with me; for my heart warms to thee;" andhe went off very abruptly with his hands behind him.

Theyitched.

Butthey itched in vain.

Wherethere's a heart there's a Rubicon.

Gerardwent hastily to the inn to relieve Denys of the anxiety so long andmysterious an absence must have caused him. He found him seated athis easeplaying dice with two young ladies whose manners wereunreservedand complexion high.

Gerardwas hurt. "N'oubliez point la Jeanneton!" said hecolouring up.

"Whatof her?" said Denysgaily rattling the dice.

"Shesaid'Le peu que sont les femmes.'"

"Ohdid she? And what say you to thatmesdemoiselles?"

"Wesay that none run women downbut such as are too oldor tooill-favouredor too witless to please them."

"Witlessquotha? Wise men have not folly enough to please themnor madnessenough to desire to please them" said Gerard loftily; "but'tis to my comrade I speaknot to youyou brazen toadsthat makeso free with a man at first sight."

"Preachawaycomrade. Fling a byword or two at our heads. Knowgirlsthathe is a very Solomon for bywords. Methinks he was brought up by handon 'em."

"Bethy friendship a byword!" retorted Gerard. "The friendshipthat melts to nought at sight of a farthingale."

"Malheureux!"cried Denys"I speak but pelletsand thou answerest daggers."

"WouldI could" was the reply. "Adieu."

"Whata little savage!" said one of the girls.

Gerardopened the door and put in his head. "I have thought of abyword" said he spitefully -
Qui hante femmes et dez
Ilmourra en pauvretez. There." And having delivered thisthunderbolt of antique wisdomhe slammed the door viciously ere anyof them could retort.

Andnowbeing somewhat exhausted by his anxietieshe went to the barfor a morsel of bread and a cup of wine. The landlord would sellnothing less than a pint bottle. Well then he would have a bottle;but when he came to compare the contents of the bottle with its sizegreat was the discrepancy: on this he examined the bottle keenlyandfound that the glass was thin where the bottle taperedbut towardsthe bottom unnaturally thick. He pointed this out at once.

Thelandlord answered superciliously that he did not make bottles: andwas nowise accountable for their shape.

"Thatwe will see presently" said Gerard. "I will take this thypint to the vice-bailiff."

"Naynayfor Heaven's sake" cried the landlordchanging his toneat once. "I love to content my customers. If by chance this pintbe shortwe will charge it and its fellow three sous insteads of twosous each."

"Sobe it. But much I admire that youthe host of so fair an innshouldpractise thus. The winetoosmacketh strongly of spring water."

"Youngsir" said the landlord"we cut no travellers' throats atthis innas they do at most. Howeveryou know all about that'TheWhite Hart' is no lionnor bear. Whatever masterful robbery is donehereis done upon the poor host. How then could he live at all if hedealt not a little crooked with the few who pay?"

Gerardobjected to this system root and branch. Honest trade was smallprofitsquick returns; and neither to cheat nor be cheated.

Thelandlord sighed at this picture. "So might one keep an inn inheavenbut not in Burgundy. When foot soldiers going to the wars arequartered on mehow can I but lose by their custom? Two sous per dayis their payand they eat two sous' worthand drink into thebargain. The pardoners are my good friendsbut palmers and pilgrimswhat think you I gain by them? marrya loss. Minstrels and jongleursdraw custom and so claim to pay no scoreexcept for liquor. By thesecular monks I neither gain nor losebut the black and grey friarshave made vow of povertybut not of famine; eat like wolves and givethe poor host nought but their prayers; and mayhap not them: how canhe tell? In my father's day we had the weddings; but now the greatgentry let their houses and their platestheir mugs and their spoonsto any honest couple that want to wedand thither the very mechanicsgo with their brides and bridal train. They come not to us: indeed wecould not find seats and vessels for such a crowd as eat and drinkand dance the week out at the homeliest wedding now. In my father'sday the great gentry sold wine by the barrel only; but now they haveleave to cry itand sell it by the galopinin the verymarket-place. How can we vie with them? They grow it. We buy it ofthe grower. The coroner's quests we have stilland these would bringgoodly profitbut the meat is aye gone ere the mouths be full."

"Youshould make better provision" suggested his hearer.

"Thelaw will not let us. We are forbidden to go into the market for thefirst hour. Sowhen we arrivethe burghers have bought all but therefuse. Besidesthe law forbids us to buy more than three bushels ofmeal at a time: yet market day comes but once a week. As for thebutchersthey will not kill for us unless we bribe them."

"Courage!"said Gerard kindly"the shoe pinches every trader somewhere."

"Ay:but not as it pinches us. Our shoe is trode all o' one side as wellas pinches us lame. A savoirif we pay not the merchants we buymealmeatand wine ofthey can cast us into prison and keep usthere till we pay or die. But we cannot cast into prison those whobuy those very victuals of us. A traveller's horse we may keep forhis debt; but wherein Heaven's name? In our own stableeating hishead off at our cost. Naywe may keep the traveller himself; butwhere? In gaol? Nayin our own good houseand there must we lodgeand feed him gratis. And so fling good silver after bad? Merci; no:let him go with a wanion. Our honestest customers are the thieves.Would to Heaven there were more of them. They look not too close intothe shape of the canakinnor into the host's reckoning: with themand with their purses 'tis lightly comeand lightly go. Also theyspend freelynot knowing but each carouse may be their last. But thethief-takersinstead of profiting by this fair exampleare for everrobbing the poor host. When noble or honest travellers descend at ourdoorcome the Provost's men pretending to suspect themanddemanding to search them and their papers. To save which offence thehost must bleed wine and meat. Then come the excise to examine allyour weights and measures. You must stop their mouths with meat andwine. Town excise. Royal excise. Parliament excise. A swarm of themand all with a wolf in their stomachs and a sponge in their gullets.Monksfriarspilgrimspalmerssoldiersexcisemenprovost-marshals and menand mere bad debtorshow can 'The WhiteHart' butt against all these? Cutting no throats in self-defence asdo your 'Swans' and 'Roses' and 'Boar's Heads' and 'Red Lions' and'Eagles' your 'Moons' 'Stars' and 'Moors' how can 'The WhiteHart' give a pint of wine for a pint? And everything risen so. Whyladnot a pound of bread I sell but cost me three good copperdenierstwelve to the sou; and each pint of winebought by the tuncosts me four deniers; every sack of charcoal two sousand gone in aday. A pair of partridges five sous. What think you of that? Heardone ever the like? five sous for two little beasts all bone andfeather? A pair of pigeonsthirty deniers. 'Tis ruination!!! For wemay not raise our pricen with the market. OhnoI tell thee theshoe is trode all o' one side as well as pinches the water into oureyn. We may charge nought for mustardpeppersaltor firewood.Think you we get them for nought? Candle it is a sou the pound. Saltfive sous the stonepepper four sous the poundmustard twentydeniers the pint; and raw meatdwindleth it on the spit with no costto me but loss of weight? Whywhat think you I pay my cook? But youshall never guess. A HUNDRED SOUS A YEAR AS I AM A LIVING SINNER.

"Andmy waiter thirty sousbesides his perquisites. He is a hantle richerthan I am. And then to be insulted as well as pillaged. Last Sunday Iwent to church. It is a place I trouble not often. Didn't the curelash the hotel-keepers? I grant you he hit all the tradesexcept theone that is a byword for loosenessand prideand slothto wittheclergy. Butmind youhe stripeit the other lay estates with afeatherbut us hotel-keepers with a neat's pizzle: godless for thisgodless for thatand most godless of all for opening our doorsduring mass. Whythe law forces us to open at all hours totravellers from another townstoppinghaltingor passing: those bethe words. They can fine us before the bailiff if we refuse themmass or no mass; and say a townsman should creep in with the truetravellersare we to blame? They all vow they are tired wayfarers;and can I ken every face in a great town like this? So if we respectthe law our poor souls are to sufferand if we respect it notourpoor lank purses must bleed at two holesfine and loss of custom."

Aman speaking of himself in generalis "a babbling brook;"of his wrongs"a shining river."

"Labituret labetur in omne volubilis aevum."

Soluckily for my readersthough not for all concernedthis injuredorator was arrested in mid career. Another man burst in upon hiswrongs with all the advantage of a recent wrong; a wrong red hot. Itwas Denys cursing and swearing and crying that he was robbed.

"Didthose hussies pass this way? who are they? where do they bide? Theyhave ta'en my purse and fifteen golden pieces: raise the hue and cry!ah! traitresses! vipers! These inns are all guet-apens."

"Therenow" cried the landlord to Gerard.

Gerardimplored him to be calmand say how it had befallen.

"Firstone went out on some pretence: then after a while the other went tofetch her backand neither returningI clapped hand to purse andfound it empty: the ungrateful creaturesI was letting them win itin a gallop: but loaded dice were not quick enough; they must claw itall in a lump."

Gerardwas for going at once to the alderman and setting the officers tofind them.

"NotI" said Denys. "I hate the law. No: as it came so let itgo."

Gerardwould not give it up so.

Ata hint from the landlord he forced Denys along with him to theprovost-marshal. That dignitary shook his head. "We have no clueto occasional thievesthat work honestly at their needlestill somegull comes and tempts them with an easy bootyand then they pluckhim.

"Comeaway" cried Denys furiously. "I knew what use a bourgeoiswould be to me at a pinch:" and he marched off in a rage.

"Theyare clear of the town ere this" said Gerard.

"Speakno more on't if you prize my friendship. I have five pieces with thebailiffand ten I left with Manonluckily; or these traitresses hadfeathered their nest with my last plume. What dost gape for so? NayI do ill to vent my choler on thee: I'll tell thee all. Art wiserthan I. What saidst thou at the door? No matter. WellthenI didoffer marriage to that Manon."

Gerardwas dumfounded.

"What?You offered her what?"

"Marriage.Is that such a mighty strange thing to offer a wench?"

"'Tisa strange thing to offer to a strange girl in passing."

"NayI am not such a sot as you opine. I saw the corn in all that chaff. Iknew I could not get her by fair meansso I was fain to try foul.'Mademoiselle' said I'marriage is not one of my habitsbut struckby your qualities I make an exception; deign to bestow this hand onme.'"

"Andshe bestowed it on thine ear.'"

"Notso. On the contrary she - Art a disrespectful young monkey. Know thatherenot being Holland or any other barbarous statecourtesy begetscourtesy. Says shea colouring like a rose'Soldieryou are toolate. He is not a patch on you for looks; but then - he has loved mea long time.'

"'He?who?'

"'T'other.'

"'Whatother?'

"Whyhe that was not too late.' Oh. that is the way they all speaktheloves; the she-wolves. Their little minds go in leaps. Think you theymarshal their words in order of battle? Their tongues are in toogreat a hurry. Says she'I love him not; not to say love him; but hedoes meand dearly; and for that reason I'd sooner die than causehim griefI would.'"

"NowI believe she did love him."

"Whodoubts that? Why she said soround aboutas they always say thesethingsand with 'nay' for 'ay.'

"Wellone thing led to anotherand at lastas she could not give me herhandshe gave me a piece of adviceand that was to leave part of mymoney with the young mistress. Thenwhen bad company had cleaned meoutI should have some to travel back withsaid she. I said I wouldbetter her adviceand leave it with her. Her face got red. Says she'Think what you do. Chambermaids have an ill name for honesty.' 'Ohthe devil is not so black as he is painted' said I. 'I'll risk it;'and I left fifteen gold pieces with her."

Gerardsighed. "I wish you may ever see them again. It is wondrous inwhat esteem you do hold this sexto trust so to the first comer. Formy part I know little about them; I never saw but one I could love aswell as I love thee. But the ancients must surely know; and they heldwomen cheap. 'Levius quid femina' said theywhich is but laJeanneton's tune in Latin'Le peu que sont les femmes.' Also do butsee how the greybeards of our own day speak of thembeing no longerblinded by desire: this aldermanto wit."

"Ohnovice of novices" cried Denys. "not to have seen why thatold fool rails so on the poor things! One dayout of the millions ofwomen he blackensone did prefer some other man to him: for whichsolitary piece of bad tasteand ten to one 'twas good tastehe dothbespatter creation's fairer halfthereby proving what? le peu quesont les hommes."

"Isee women have a shrewd champion in thee" said Gerardwith asmile. But the next moment inquired gravely why he had not told himall this before.

Denysgrinned. "Had the girl said 'Ay' why then I had told theestraight. But 'tis a rule with us soldiers never to publish ourdefeats: 'tis much if after each check we claim not a victory."

"Nowthat is true" said Gerard. "Young as I amI have seenthis; that after every great battle the generals on both sides go tothe nearest churchand sing each a Te Deum for the victory; methinksa Te Martemor Te Bellonamor Te MercuriumMercury being the godof lieswere more fitting."

"Passi bete" said Denys approvingly. "Hast a good eye: canstsee a steeple by daylight. So now tell me how thou hast fared in thistown all day."

"Come"said Gerard"'tis well thou hast asked me: for else I had nevertold thee." He then related in full how he had been arrestedand by what a providential circumstance he had escaped longimprisonment or speedy conflagration.

Hisnarrative produced an effect he little expected or desired.

"Iam a traitor" cried Denys. "I left thee in a strange placeto fight thine own battleswhile I shook the dice with those jades.Now take thou this sword and pass it through my body forthwith."

"Whatfor in Heaven's name?" inquired Gerard.

"Foran example" roared Denys. "For a warning to all falseloons that profess friendshipand disgrace it."

"Ohvery well" said Gerard. "Yes. Not a bad notion. Where willyou have it?"

"Herethrough my heart; that iswhere other men have a heartbut I noneor a Satanic false one."

Gerardmade a motion to run him throughand flung his arms round his neckinstead. "I know no way to thy heart but thisthou great sillything."

Denysuttered an exclamationthen hugged him warmly - andquite overcomeby this sudden turn of youthful affection and native gracegulpedout in a broken voice"Railest on women - and art - like them -with thy pretty ways. Thy mother's milk is in thee still. Satan wouldlove theeor - le bon Dieu would kick him out of hell for shamingit. Give me thy hand! Give me thy hand! May" (a tremendous oath)"if I let thee out of my sight till Italy."

Andso the staunch friends were more than reconciled after their shorttiff.

Thenext day the thieves were tried. The pieces de conviction werereduced in numberto the great chagrin of the little clerkby theinterment of the bones. But there was still a pretty show. A thief'shand struck off flagrante delicto; a murdered woman's hair; theAbbot's axeand other tools of crime. The skullsetc.were swornto by the constables who had found them. Evidence was lax in that ageand place. They all confessed but the landlord. And Manon was calledto bring the crime home to him. Her evidence was conclusive. He madea vain attempt to shake her credibility by drawing from her that herown sweetheart had been one of the gangand that she had held hertongue so long as he was alive. The public prosecutor came to the aidof his witnessand elicited that a knife had been held to herthroatand her own sweetheart sworn with solemn oaths to kill hershould she betray themand that this terrible threatand not themere fear of deathhad glued her lips.

Theother thieves were condemned to be hangedand the landlord to bebroken on the wheel. He uttered a piercing cry when his sentence waspronounced.

Asfor poor Manonshe became the subject of universal criticism. Nordid opinion any longer run dead in her favour; it divided into twobroad currents. And strange to relatethe majority of her own sextook her partand the males were but equally divided; which hardlyhappens once in a hundred years. Perhaps some lady will explain thephenomenon. As for meI am a little shy of explaining things I don'tunderstand. It has become so common. Meantimehad she been a loverof notorietyshe would have been happyfor the town talked ofnothing but her. The poor girlhoweverhad but one wish to escapethe crowd that followed herand hide her head somewhere where shecould cry over her "pendard" whom all these proceedingsbrought vividly back to her affectionate remembrance. Before he washanged he had threatened her life; but she was not one of yourfastidious girlswho love their male divinities any the less forbeating themkicking themor killing thembut rather the betterprovided these attentions are interspersed with occasional caresses;so it would have been odd indeed had she taken offence at a merethreat of that sort. He had never threatened her with a rival. Shesobbed single-mindedly.

Meantimethe inn was filled with thirsters for a sight of herwho feasted anddrankto pass away the time till she should deign to appear. Whenshe had been sobbing some timethere was a tap at her doorand thelandlord entered with a proposal. "Nayweep notgood lassyour fortune it is made an you like. Say the wordand you arechambermaid of 'The White Hart.'"

"Naynay" said Manon with a fresh burst of grief. "Never morewill I be a servant in an inn. I'll go to my mother."

Thelandlord consoled and coaxed her: and she became calmerbut none theless determined against his proposal.

Thelandlord left her. But ere long he returned and made her anotherproposal. Would she be his wifeand landlady of "The White Hart

"Youdo ill to mock me" said she sorrowfully.

"Naysweetheart. I mock thee not. I am too old for sorry jests. Say youthe wordand you are my partner for better for worse."

Shelooked at himand saw he was in earnest: on this she suddenly rainedhard to the memory of "le pendard": the tears came in atorrentbeing the last; and she gave her hand to the landlord of"The White Hart" and broke a gold crown with him in signof plighted troth.

"Wewill keep it dark till the house is quiet" said the landlord.

"Ay"said she; "but meantime prithee give me linen to hemor work todo; for the time hangs on me like lead."

Herbetrothed's eye brightened at this housewifely requestand hebrought her up two dozen flagons of various sizes to clean andpolish.

Shegathered complacency as she reflected that by a strange turn offortune all this bright pewter was to be hers.

Meantimethe landlord went downstairsand falling in with our friends drewthem aside into the bar.

Hethen addressed Denys with considerable solemnity. "We are oldacquaintancesand you want not for sagacity: now advise me in astrait. My custom is somewhat declining: this girl Manon is the talkof the town; see how full the inn is to-night. She doth refuse to bemy chambermaid. I have half a mind to marry her. What think you?shall I say the word?"

Denysin reply merely open his eyes wide with amazement.

Thelandlord turned to Gerard with a half-inquiring look

"Naysir" said Gerard; "I am too young to advise my seniors andbetters."

"Nomatter. Let us hear your thought."

"Wellsirit was said of a good wife by the ancients'bene quae latuitbene vixit' that isshe is the best wife that is least talked of:but here 'male quae patuit' were as near the mark. Thereforean youbear the lass good-willwhy not club purses with Denys and me andconvey her safe home with a dowry? Then mayhap some rustical personin her own place may be brought to wife her."

"Whyso many words?" said Denys. "This old fox is not the ass heaffects to be."

"Oh!that is your adviceis it?" said the landlord testily. "Wellthen we shall soon know who is the foolyou or mefor I have spokento her as it happens; and what is moreshe has said Ayand she ispolishing the flagons at this moment."

"Oho!"said Denys drily"'twas an ambuscade. Wellin that casemyadvice isrun for the notarytie the nooseand let us three drinkthe bride's healthtill we see six sots a-tippling."

"Andshall. Aynow you utter sense."

Inten minutes a civil marriage was effected upstairs before a notaryand his clerk and our two friends.

Inten minutes more the white hinddead sick of seclusionhad takenher place within the barand was serving out liquidsand bustlingand her colour rising a little.

Insix little minutes more she soundly rated a careless servant-girl forcarrying a nipperkin of wine awry and spilling good liquor.

Duringthe evening she received across the bar eight offers of marriagesome of them from respectable burghers. Now the landlord and our twofriends had in perfect innocence ensconced themselves behind ascreento drink at their ease the new couple's health. The abovecomedy was thrown in for their entertainment by bounteous fate. Theyheard the proposals made one after anotherand uninventive Manon'sinvariable answer - "Serviteur; you are a day after the fair."The landlord chuckled and looked good-natured superiority at both hislate adviserswith their traditional notions that men shun a woman"quae patuit" i.e. who has become the town talk.

ButDenys scarce noticed the spouse's triumph over himbe was sooccupied with his own over Gerard. At each municipal tender ofundying affectionhe turned almost purple with the effort it costhim not to roar with glee; and driving his elbow into thedeep-meditating and much-puzzled pupil of antiquitywhispered"Lepeu que sont les hommes."

Thenext morning Gerard was eager to startbut Denys was under a vow tosee the murderers of the golden-haired girl executed.

Gerardrespected his vowbut avoided his example.

Hewent to bid the cure farewell insteadand sought and received hisblessing. About noon the travellers got clear of the town. Justoutside the south gate they passed the gallows; it had eight tenants:the skeleton of Manon's late weptand now being fast forgottenloverand the bodies of those who had so nearly taken ourtravellers' lives. A hand was nailed to the beam. And hard by on ahuge wheel was clawed the dead landlordwith every bone in his bodybroken to pieces.

Gerardaverted his head and hurried by. Denys lingeredand crowed over hisdead foes. "Times are changedmy ladssince we two sat shakingin the cold awaiting you seven to come and cut our throats."

"FieDenys! Death squares all reckonings. Prithee pass on without anotherwordif you prize my respect a groat."

Tothis earnest remonstrance Denys yielded. He even said thoughtfully"You have been better brought up than I."

Aboutthree in the afternoon they reached a little town with the peoplebuzzing in knots. The wolvesstarved by the coldhad enteredandeaten two grown-up persons overnightin the main street: so somewere blaming the eaten - "None but fools or knaves are aboutafter nightfall;" others the law for not protecting the townand others the corporation for not enforcing what laws there were.

"Bah!this is nothing to us" said Denysand was for resuming theirmarch.

"Aybut 'tis" remonstrated Gerard.

"Whatare we the pair they ate?"

"Nobut we may be the next pair."

"Ayneighbour" said an ancient man"'tis the town's fault fornot obeying the ducal ordinancewhich bids every shopkeeper light alamp o'er his door at sunsetand burn it till sunrise.

Onthis Denys asked him somewhat derisively"What made him fancyrush dips would scare away empty wolves? Whymutton fat is all theirjoy."

"'Tisnot the fatvain manbut the light. All ill things hate light;especially wolves and the imps that lurkI weenunder their fur.Example; Paris city stands in a wood likeand the wolves do howlaround it all night: yet of late years wolves come but little in thestreets. For whyin that burgh the watchmen do thunder at each doorthat is darkand make the weary wight rise and light. 'Tis my sontells me. He is a great voyagermy son Nicholas."

Infurther explanation he assured them that previously to that ordinanceno city had been worse infested with wolves than Paris; a troop hadboldly assaulted the town in 1420and in 1438 they had eatenfourteen persons in a single month between Montmartre and the gateSt. Antoineand that not a winter month evenbut September: and asfor the deadwhich nightly lay in the streets slain in midnightbrawlsor assassinatedthe wolves had used to devour themand togrub up the fresh graves in the churchyards and tear out the bodies.

Herea thoughtful citizen suggested that probably the wolves had beenbridled of late in Parisnot by candle-lightsbut owing to theEnglish having been driven out of the kingdom of France. "Forthose English be very wolves themselves for fierceness andgreediness. What marvel then that under their rule our neighbours ofFrance should be wolf-eaten?" This logic was too suited to thetime and place not to be received with acclamation. But the old manstood his ground. "I grant ye those islanders are wolves; buttwo-legged onesand little apt to favour their four-footed cousins.One greedy thing loveth it another? I trow not. By the same tokenand this too I have from my boy NicoleSir Wolf dare not show hisnose in London city; though 'tis smaller than Parisand thick woodshard by the north walland therein great store of deerand wildboars as rife as flies at midsummer."

"Sir"said Gerard"you seem conversant with wild beastspritheeadvise my comrade here and me: we would not waste time on the roadan if we may go forward to the next town with reasonable safety.'

"YoungmanI trow 'twere an idle risk. It lacks but an hour of duskandyou must pass nigh a wood where lurk some thousands of thesehalf-starved verminrank cowards single; but in great bands bold aslions. Wherefore I rede you sojourn here the night; and journey onbetimes. By the dawn the vermin will be tired out with roaring andrampaging; and mayhap will have filled their lank bellies with fleshof my good neighbours herethe unteachable fools."

Gerardhoped not; and asked could he recommend them to a good inn.

"Humph!there is the 'Tete d'Or.' My grandaughter keeps it. She is amijaureebut not so knavish as most hotel-keepersand her houseindifferent clean."

"Heyfor the 'Tete d'Or'" struck in Denysdecided by hisineradicable foible.

Onthe way to itGerard inquired of his companion what a "mijauree"was?

Denyslaughed at his ignorance. "Not know what a mijauree is? why allthe world knows that. It is neither more nor less than a mijauree.

Asthey entered the "Tete d'Or" they met a young lady richlydressed with a velvet chaperon on her headwhich was confined by lawto the nobility. They unbonneted and louted lowand she curtsiedbut fixed her eye on vacancy the whilewhich had a curious ratherthan a genial effect. Howevernobility was not so unassuming inthose days as it is now. So they were little surprised. But the nextminute supper was servedand lo! in came this princess and carvedthe goose.

"HolySt. Bavon" cried Gerard. "'Twas the landlady all thewhile."

Ayoung womancursed with nice white teeth and lovely hands: for thesebeauties being misallied to homely featureshad turned her head. Shewas a feeble carvercarving not for the sake of others but herselfi.e. to display her hands. When not carving she was eternally eithertaking a pin out of her head or her bodyor else putting a pin intoher head or her body. To display her teethshe laughed indifferentlyat gay or grave and from ear to ear. And she "sat at ease"with her mouth ajar.

Nowthere is an animal in creation of no great general merit; but it hasthe eye of a hawk for affectation. It is called "a boy."And Gerard was but a boy still in some things; swift to seeand toloathaffectation. So Denys sat casting sheep's eyesand Gerarddaggersat one comedian.

Presentlyin the midst of her minauderiesshe gave a loud shriek and boundedout of her chair like hare from formand ran backwards out of theroom uttering little screamsand holding her farthingale tight downto her ankles with both hands. And as she scuttled out of the door amouse scuttled back to the wainscot in a state of equaland perhapsmore reasonable terror. The guestswho had risen in anxiety at theprincipal yellnow stood irresolute awhilethen sat down laughing.The tender Denysto whom a woman's cowardicebeing a sexual traitseemed to be a lovely and pleasant thingsaid he would go comforther and bring her back.

"Nay!nay! nay! for pity's sake let her bide" cried Gerard earnestly."Ohblessed mouse! sure some saint sent thee to our aid."

Nowat his right hand sat a sturdy middle-aged burgherwhose conduct upto date had been cynical. He had never budged nor even rested hisknife at all this fracas. He now turned on Gerard and inquiredhaughtily whether he really thought that "grimaciere" wasafraid of a mouse.

"Ay.She screamed hearty."

"Whereis the coquette that cannot scream to the life? These shetavern-keepers do still ape the nobles. Some princess or duchess hathlain here a nightthat was honestly afeard of a mousehaving beenbrought up to it. And this ape hath seen herand said'I will startat a mouseand make a coil' She has no more right to start at amouse than to wear that fur on her bosomand that velvet on hermonkey's head. I am of the townyoung manand have known themijauree all her lifeand I mind when she was no more afeard of amouse than she is of a man." He added that she was fast emptyingthe inn with these "singeries." "All the world is sosick of her handsthat her very kinsfolk will not venture themselvesanigh them." He concluded with something like a sigh"The'Tete d'Or' was a thriving hostelry under my old chum her goodfather; but she is digging its grave tooth and nail.'

"Toothand nail? good! a right merry conceit and a true" said Gerard.But the right merry conceit was an inadvertence as pure as snowandthe stout burgher went to his grave and never knew what he had done:for just then attention was attracted by Denys returning pompously.He inspected the apartment minutelyand with a high official air: healso looked solemnly under the table; and during the wholeinquisition a white hand was placed conspicuously on the edge of theopen doorand a tremulous voice inquired behind it whether thehorrid thing was quite gone.

"Theenemy has retreatedbag and baggage" said Denys: and handed inthe trembling fairwhositting downapologized to her guests forher foolish fearswith so much earnestnessgraceand seemingself-contemptthatbut for a sour grin on his neighbour's faceGerard would have been taken in as all the other strangers were.Dinner endedthe young landlady begged an Augustine friar at herright hand to say grace. He delivered a longish one. The moment hebeganshe clapped her white hands piously togetherand held them upjoined for mortals to admire; 'tis an excellent pose for taper whitefingers: and cast her eyes upward towards heavenand felt asthankful to it as a magpie does while cutting off with your thimble.

Aftersupper the two friends went to the street-door and eyed themarket-place. The mistress joined themand pointed out thetown-hallthe borough gaolSt. Catherine's churchetc. This wascourteousto say the least. But the true cause soon revealed itself;the fair hand was poked right under their eyes every time an objectwas indicated; and Gerard eyed it like a basiliskand longed for abunch of nettles. The sun setand the travellersfew in numberdrew round the great roaring fireand omitting to go on the spitwere frozen behind though roasted in front. For if the German stoveswere oppressively hotthe French salles manger were bitterly coldand above all stormy. In Germany men sat bareheaded round the stoveand took off their upper clothesbut in Burgundy they kept on theirhatsand put on their warmest furs to sit round the great openchimney placesat which the external air rushed furiously from doorand ill-fitting window. Howeverit seems their mediaeval backs werebroad enough to bear it: for they made themselves not onlycomfortable but merryand broke harmless jests over each other inturn. For instanceDenys's new shoesthough not in directcommunicationhad this day exploded with twin-like sympathy andunanimity.' 'Where do you buy your shoonsoldier?" asked one.

Denyslooked askant at Gerardand not liking the themeshook it off. "Igather 'em off the trees by the roadside" said he surlily.

"Thenyou gathered these too ripe" said the hostesswho was only afool externally.

"Ayrotten ripe" observed anotherinspecting them.

Gerardsaid nothingbut pointed the circular satire by pantomime. He slilyput out both his feetone after anotherunder Denys's eyewiththeir German shoeson which a hundred leagues of travel had producedno effect. They seemed hewn out of a rock.

Atthis"I'll twist the smooth varlet's neck that sold me mine"shouted Denysin huge wrathand confirmed the threat with singularoaths peculiar to the mediaeval military. The landlady put herfingers in her earsthereby exhibiting the hand in a fresh attitude."Tell me when he has done his orisonssomebody" said shemincingly. And after that they fell to telling stories.

Gerardwhen his turn cametold the adventure of Denys and Gerard at the innin Domfrontand so wellthat the hearers were rapt into sweetoblivion of the very existence of mijauree and hands. But this madeher very uneasyand she had recourse to her grand coup. Thismisdirected genius had for a twelvemonth past practised yawningandcould do it now at any moment so naturally as to set all creationgapingcould all creation have seen her. By this means she got inall her charms. For first she showed her teeththenout of goodbreedingyou knowclosed her mouth with three taper fingers. So themoment Gerard's story got too interesting and absorbingshe turnedto and made yawnsand "croix sur la bouche."

Thiswas all very fine: but Gerard was an artistand artists are chilledby gaping auditors. He bore up against the yawns a long time; butfinding they came from a bottomless reservoirlost both heart andtemperand suddenly rising in mid narrativesaid"But I wearyour hostessand I am tired myself: so good night!" whipped acandle off the dresserwhispered Denys"I cannot stand her"and marched to bed in a moment.

Themijauree coloured and bit her lips. She had not intended her byplayfor Gerard's eye: and she saw in a moment she had been rudeandsillyand publicly rebuked. She sat with cheek on fireand a littlenatural water in her eyesand looked ten times comelier and morewomanly and interesting than she had done all day. The desertion ofthe best narrator broke up the partyand the unassuming Denysapproached the meditative mijaureeand invited her in the mostflattering terms to gamble with him. She started from her reverielooked him down into the earth's centre with chilling dignityandconsentedfor she remembered all in a moment what a show of handsgambling admitted.

Thesoldier and the mijauree rattled the dice. In which sport she was sotaken up with her handsthat she forgot to cheatand Denys won an"ecu au soleil" of her. She fumbled slowly with her pursepartly because her sex do not burn to pay debts of honourpartly toadmire the play of her little knuckles peeping between their softwhite cushions. Denys proposed a compromise.

"Threesilver franks I win of youfair hostess. Give me now three kisses ofthis white handand we'll e'en cry quits."

"Youare malapert" said the ladywith a toss of her head; "besidesthey are so dirty. See! they are like ink!" and to convince himshe put them out to him and turned them up and down. They were nodirtier than cream fresh from the cob and she knew it: she waseternally washing and scenting them.

Denysread the objection like the observant warrior he wasseized them andmumbled them.

Findinghim so appreciative of her charmshe said timidly"Will you dome a kindnessgood soldier?"

"Athousandfair hostessan you will."

"NayI ask but one. 'Tis to tell thy comrade I was right sorry to lose hismost thrilling storyand I hope he will tell me the rest to-morrowmorning. Meantime I shall not sleep for thinking on't. Wilt tell himthat - to pleasure me?"

"AyI'll tell the young savage. But he is not worthy of yourcondescensionsweet hostess. He would rather be aside a man than awoman any day."

"Sowould - ahem. He is right: the young women of the day are not worthyof him'un tas des mijaurees' He has a goodhonestand rightcomely face. Any wayI would not guest of mine should think meunmannerlynot for all the world. Wilt keep faith with me and tellhim?"

"Onthis fair hand I swear it; and thus I seal the pledge."

"There;no need to melt the waxthough. Now go to bed. And tell him ere yousleep."

Theperverse toad (I thank theeManonfor teaching me that word) wasinclined to bestow her slight affections upon Gerard. Not that shewas inflammable: far less so than many that passed for prudes in thetown. But Gerard possessed a triple attraction that has ensnaredcoquettes in all ages. 1. He was very handsome. 2. He did not admireher the least. 3. He had given her a good slap in the face.

Denyswoke Gerard and gave the message. Gerard was not enchanted "Dostwake a tired man to tell him that? Am I to be pestered with'mijaurees' by night as well as day?"

"ButI tell theenovicethou hast conquered her: trust to my experience:her voice sank to melodious whispers; and the cunning jade did in amanner bribe me to carry thee her challenge to Love's lists! for so Iread her message."

Denysthenassuming the senior and the man of the worldtold Gerard thetime was come to show him how a soldier understood friendship andcamaraderie. Italy was now out of the question. Fate had providedbetter; and the blind jade Fortune had smiled on merit for once. "TheHead of Gold" had been a prosperous innwould be again with aman at its head. A good general laid far-sighted plans; but wasalways ready to abandon themshould some brilliant advantage offerand to reap the full harvest of the unforeseen: 'twas chiefly by thistrait great leaders defeated little ones; for these latter could donothing not cut and dried beforehand.

"Sorryfriendshipthat would marry me to a mijauree" interposedGerardyawning.

"Comradebe reasonable; 'tis not the friskiest sheep that falls down thecliff. All creatures must have their fling soonor late; and why nota woman? What more frivolous than a kitten? what graver than a cat?"

"Hasta good eye for natureDenys" said Gerard"that Iproclaim.

"Abetter for thine interestboy. Trust then to me; these little dovesthey are my study day and night; happy the man whose wife taketh herfling before wedlockand who trippeth up the altar-steps instead ofdown 'em. Marriage it always changeth them for better or else forworse. WhyGerardshe is honest when all is done; and he is no mannor half a manthat cannot mould any honest lass like a bit of warmwaxand she aye aside him at bed and board. I tell thee in one monththou wilt make of this coquette the matron the most sober in thetownand of all its wives the one most docile and submissive. Whyshe is half tamed already. Nine in ten meek and mild ones had gentlyhated thee like poison all their livesfor wounding of their hiddenpride. But she for an affront proffers affection. By Joshua his buglea generous lassand void of petty malice. When thou wast gone shesat a-thinking and spoke not. A sure sign of love in one of her sex:for of all things else they speak ere they think. Also her voice didsink exceeding low in discoursing of theeand murmured sweetly;another infallible sign. The bolt hath struck and rankles in her; ohbe joyful! Art silent? I see; 'tis settled. I shall go alone toRemiremontalone and sad. Butpillage and poleaxes! what care I forthatsince my dear comrade will stay herelandlord of the 'Teted'Or' and safe from all the storms of life? Wilt think of meGerardnow and then by thy warm fireof me camped on some windyheathor lying in wet trenchesor wounded on the field and far fromcomfort? Nay" and this he said in a manner truly noble)"notcomfortless or coldor wetor bleeding. 'twill still warm my heartto lie on my back and think that I have placed my dear friend andcomrade true in the 'Tete d'Or' far from a soldier's ills"

"Ilet you run ondear Denys" said Gerard softly"becauseat each word you show me the treasure of a good heart. But nowbethink theemy troth is plighted there where my heart it clingeth.You so lealwould you make me disloyal?"

"Perditionseize mebut I forgot that" said Denys.

"Nomore thenbut hie thee to bedgood Denys. Next to Margaret I lovethee best on earthand value thy 'coeur d'or' far more than a dozenof these 'Tetes d'Or.' So prithee call me at the first blush ofrosy-fingered mornand let's away ere the woman with the hands bestirring."

Theyrose with the dawnand broke their fast by the kitchen fire.

Denysinquired of the girl whether the mistress was about.

"Nay;but she hath risen from her bed: by the same token I am carrying herthis to clean her withal;" and she filled a jug with boilingwaterand took it upstairs.

"Behold"said Gerard"the very elements must be warmed to suit her skin;what had the saints saidwhich still chose the coldest pool? Awayere she come down and catch us."

Theypaid the scoreand left the "Tete d'Or" while itsmistress was washing her hands.

 

CHAPTERXXXVIII

Outsidethe town they found the snow fresh trampled by innumerable wolvesevery foot of the road.

"Wedid well to take the old man's adviceDenys."

"Aydid we. For now I think on'tI did hear them last night scurryingunder our windowand howling and whining for man's flesh in yonmarket-place. But no fat burgher did pity the poor vagabonesanddrop out o' window."

Gerardsmiledbut with an air of abstraction. And they plodded on insilence.

"Whatdost meditate so profoundly?"

"Thygoodness."

Denyswas anything but pleased at this answer. Amongst his oddities you mayhave observed that he could stand a great deal of real impertinence;he was so good-humoured. But would fire up now and then where noteven the shadow of a ground for anger existed.

"Acivil question merits a civil reply" said he very drily.

"AlasI meant no other" said Gerard.

"Thenwhy pretend you were thinking of my goodnesswhen you know I have nogoodness under my skin?"

"Hadanother said thisI had answered'Thou liest.' But to thee I say'Hast no eye for men's qualitiesbut only for women's.' And oncemore I do defy thy unreasonable cholerand say I was thinking on thygoodness of overnight. Wouldst have wedded me to the 'Tete d'Or' orrather to the 'tete de veau doree' and left thyself solitary."

"Ohare ye therelad?" said Denysrecovering his good humour in amoment. "Wellbut to speak soothI meant that not forgoodness; but for friendship and true fellowshipno more. And let metell youmy young mastermy conscience it pricketh me even now forletting you turn your back thus on fortune and peaceful days. A truerfriend than I had ta'en and somewhat hamstrung thee. Then hadst thoubeen fain to lie smarting at the 'Tete d'Or' a month or so; yonskittish lass had nursed thee tenderlyand all had been well. BladeI had in hand to do'tbut remembering how thou hatest painthoughit be but a scratchmy craven heart it failed me at the pinch."And Denys wore a look of humble apology for his lack of virtuousresolution when the path of duty lay so clear.

Gerardraised his eyebrows with astonishment at this monstrous butthoroughly characteristic revelation; howeverthis new and delicatepoint of friendship was never discussed; viz.whether one ought inall love to cut the tendon Achilles of one's friend. For an incidentinterposed.

"Herecometh one in our rear a-riding on his neighbour's mule"shouted Denys.

Gerardturned round. "And how know ye 'tis not his ownpray?"

"Ohblind! Because he rides it with no discretion."

Andin truth the man came galloping like a fury. But what astonished thefriends most was that on reaching them the rustic rider's eyes openedsaucer-likeand he drew the rein so suddenly and powerfullythatthe mule stuck out her fore-legsand went sliding between thepedestrians like a four-legged table on castors.

"Itrow ye are from the 'Tete d'Or?'" They assented. "Which ofye is the younger?"

"Hethat was born the later" said Denyswinking at his companion.

"Gramercyfor the news."

"Comedivine then!"

"Andshall. Thy beard is ripethy fellow's is green; he shall be theyounger; hereyoungster." And he held him out a paper packet."Ye left this at the 'Tete d'Or' and our mistress sends it ye."

"Naygood fellowmethinks I left nought." And Gerard felt his pouch.etc.

"Wouldye make our burgess a liar" said the rustic reproachfully; "andshall I have no pourboire?" (still more reproachfully); "andcame ventre a terre."

"Naythou shalt have pourboire" and he gave him a small coin.

"Ala bonne heure" cried the clownand his features beamed withdisproportionate joy. "The Virgin go with ye; come upJenny!"and back he went "stomach to earth" as his nation ispleased to call it.

Gerardundid the packet; it was about six inches squareand inside it hefound another packetwhich contained a packetand so on. At thefourth he hurled the whole thing into the snow. Denys took it out andrebuked his petulance. He excused himself on the ground of hatingaffectation.

Denysattested"'The great toe of the little daughter of Herodias'there was no affectation herebut only woman's good wit. Doubtlessthe wraps contained something which out of delicacyor her sex'slovely cunningshe would not her hind should see her bestow on ayoung man; thy garterto wit."

"Iwear none."

"Herown then; or a lock of her hair. What is this? A piece of raw silkfresh from the worm. Wellof all the love tokens!"

"Nowwho but thee ever dreamed that she is so naught as send me lovetokens? I saw no harm in her - barring her hands."

"Stayhere is something hard lurking in this soft nest. Come forthI saylittle nestling! Saints and pikestaves! look at this!"

Itwas a gold ring. with a great amethyst glowing and sparklingfullcolouredbut pure as crystal.

"Howlovely!" said Gerard innocently.

"Andhere is something writ; read it thou! I read not so glib as somewhen I know not the matter beforehand."

Gerardtook the paper. "'Tis a posyand fairly enough writ." Heread the linesblushing like a girl. They were very naiveand maybe thus Englished:-
'Youthwith thee my heart is fledde
Comeback to the 'golden Hedde!'
Wilt not? yet this token keepe
Ofhir who doeth thy goeing weepe.
Gyf the world prove harsh andcold
Come back to 'the Hedde of gold.'"

"Thelittle dove!" purred Denys.

"Thegreat owl! To go and risk her good name thus. Howeverthank Heavenshe has played this prank with an honest lad that will ne'er exposeher folly. But ohthe perverseness! Could she not bestow hernauseousness on thee?" Denys sighed and shrugged. "On theethat art as ripe for folly as herself?"

Denysconfessed that his young friend had harped his very thought. 'Twaspassing strange to him that a damsel with eyes in her head shouldpass by a manand bestow her affections on a boy. Still he could notbut recognize in this the bounty of Nature. Boys were human beingsafter alland but for this occasional caprice of womentheir lotwould be too terrible; they would be out of the sun altogetherblightedand never come to anything; since only the fair could makea man out of such unpromising materials as a boy. Gerard interruptedthis flattering discourse to beg the warrior-philosopher's acceptanceof the lady's ring. He refused it flatlyand insisted on Gerardgoing back to the "Tete d'Or" at oncering and alllike amanand not letting a poor girl hold out her arms to him in vain.

"Herhandsyou mean."

"Herhandwith the 'Tete d'Or' in it."

Failingin thishe was for putting the ring on his friend's finger. Gerarddeclined. "I wear a ring already."

"Whatthat sorry gimcrack? why'tis pewteror tin at best: and thisvirgin goldforbye the jewel."

"Aybut 'twas Margaret gave me this one; and I value it above rubies.I'll neither part with it nor give it a rival" and he kissedthe base metaland bade it fear nought.

"Isee the owl hath sent her ring to a goose" said Denyssorrowfully. Howeverhe prevailed on Gerard to fasten it inside hisbonnet. To thisindeedthe lad consented very readily. Forsovereign qualities were universally ascribed to certain jewels; andthe amethyst ranked high among these precious talismans.

Whenthis was disposed ofGerard earnestly requested his friend to letthe matter dropsince speaking of the other sex to him made him pineso for Margaretand almost unmanned him with the thought that eachstep was taking him farther from her. "I am no general loverDenys. There is room in my heart for one sweetheartand for onefriend. I am far from my dear mistress; and my frienda few leaguesmoreand I must lose him too. Ohlet me drink thy friendship purewhile I mayand not dilute with any of these stupid females."

"Andshalthoney-potand shalt" said Denys kindly'. "But asto my leaving thee at Remiremontreckon thou not on that! For"(three consecutive oaths) "if I do. NayI shall propose to theeto stay forty-eight hours therewhile I kiss my mother and sistersand the females generallyand on go you and I together to the sea."

"Denys!Denys!"

"Denysnor me! 'Tis settled. Gainsay me not! or I'll go with thee to Rome.Why not? his Holiness the Pope hath ever some little merry pleasantwar towardand a Burgundian soldier is still welcome in his ranks."

Onthis Gerard opened his heart. "Denysere I fell in with theeIused often to halt on the roadunable to go farther: my puny heartso pulled me back: and thenafter a short prayer to the saints foraidwould I rise and drag my most unwilling body onward. But since Ijoined company with theegreat is my courage. I have found thesaying of the ancients truethat better is a bright comrade on theweary road than a horse-litter; anddear brotherwhen I do think ofwhat we have done and suffered together! Savedst my life from thebearand from yet more savage thieves; and even poor I did makeshift to draw thee out of Rhineand somehow loved thee double fromthat hour. How many ties tender and strong between us! Had I my willI'd nevernevernevernever part with my Denys on this side thegrave. Well-a-day! God His will be done.

"Nomy will shall be done this time" shouted Denys. "Le bonDieu has bigger fish to fry than you or me. I'll go with thee toRome. There is my hand on it."

"Thinkwhatyou say! 'Tis impossible. 'Tis too selfish of me."

"Itell thee'tis settled. No power can change me. At Remiremont Iborrow ten pieces of my uncleand on we go; 'tis fixed;

Theyshook hands over it. Then Gerard said nothingfor his heart was toofull; but he ran twice round his companion as he walkedthen dancedbackwards in front of himand finally took his handand so on theywent hand in hand like sweetheartstill a company of mountedsoldiersabout fifty in numberrose to sight on the brow of a hill.

"Seethe banner of Burgundy" said Denys joyfully; "I shall lookout for a comrade among these."

"Howgorgeous is the standard in the sun" said Gerard "and howbrave are the leaders with velvet and feathersand steelbreastplates like glassy mirrors!"

Whenthey came near enough to distinguish facesDenys uttered anexclamation: "Why'tis the Bastard of Burgundyas I live. Naythen; there is fighting a-foot since he is out; a gallant leaderGerardrates his life no higher than a private soldier'sand asoldier's no higher than a tomtit's; and that is the captain for me."

"AndseeDenysthe very mules with their great brass frontlets andtrappings seem proud to carry them; no wonder men itch to besoldiers;" and in the midst of this innocent admiration thetroop came up with them.

"Halt!"cried a stentorian voice. The troop halted. The Bastard of Burgundybent his brow gloomily on Denys: "How nowarbalestrierhowcomes it thy face is turned southwardwhen every good hand and heartis hurrying northward?"

Denysreplied respectfully that he was going on leaveafter some years ofserviceto see his kindred at Remiremont.

"Good.But this is not the time for't; the duchy is disturbed. Ho! bringthat dead soldier's mule to the front; and thou mount her and forwardwith us to Flanders."

"Soplease your highness" said Denys firmly"that may not be.My home is close at hand. I have not seen it these three years; andabove allI have this poor youth in chargewhom I may notcannotleavetill I see him shipped for Rome.

"Dostbandy words with me?" said the chiefwith amazementturningfast to wrath. "Art weary o' thy life? Let go the youth's handand into the saddle without more idle words."

Denysmade no reply; but he held Gerard's hand the tighterand lookeddefiance.

Atthis the bastard roared"Jarnacdismount six of thy archersand shoot me this white-livered cur dead where he stands - for anexample."

Theyoung Count de Jarnacsecond in commandgave the orderand the mendismounted to execute it

"Striphim naked" said the bastardin the cold tone of militarybusiness"and put his arms and accoutrements on the spare muleWe'll maybe find some clown worthier to wear them"

Denysgroaned aloud"Am I to be shamed as well as slain?"

"Ohnay! nay! nay!" cried Gerardawaking from the stupor into whichthis thunderbolt of tyranny had thrown him. "He shall go withyou on the instant. I'd liever part with him for ever than see a hairof his dear head harmed Ohsirohmy lordgive a poor boy but aminute to bid his only friend farewell! he will go with you. I swearhe shall go with you."

Thestern leader nodded a cold contemptuous assent. "ThouJarnacstay with themand bring him on alive or dead. Forward!" And heresumed his marchfollowed by all the band but the young count andsix archersone of whom held the spare mule.

Denysand Gerard gazed at one another haggardly. Ohwhat a look!

Andafter this mute interchange of anguishthey spoke hurriedlyfor themoments were flying by.

"Thougoest to Holland: thou knowest where she bides. Tell her all. Shewill be kind to thee for my sake."

"Ohsorry tale that I shall carry her! For God's sakego back to the'Tete d'Or.' I am mad"

"Hush!Let me think: have I nought to say to theeDenys? my head! my head!"

"Ah!I have it. Make for the RhineGerard! Strasbourg. 'Tis but a step.And down the current to Rotterdam. Margaret is there: I go thither.I'll tell her thou art coming. We shall all be together."

"Myladshaste yeor you will get us into trouble" said the countfirmlybut not harshly now.

"Ohsirone moment! one little moment!" panted Gerard.

"Cursedbe the land I 'was born in! cursed be the race of man! and he thatmade them what they are!" screamed Denys.

"HushDenyshush! blaspheme not! OhGod forgive himhe wots not what hesays. Be patientDenysbe patient: though we meet no more on earthlet us meet in a better worldwhere no blasphemer may enter. To myheartlost friend; for what are words now?" He held out hisarmsand they locked one another in a close embrace. They kissed oneanother again and againspeechlessand the tears rained down theircheeks And the Count Jarnac looked on amazedbut the roughersoldiersto whom comrade was a sacred namelooked on with some pityin their hard faces. Then at a signal from Jarnacwith kind forceand words of rude consolationthey almost lifted Denys on to themule; and putting him in the middle of themspurred after theirleader. And Gerard ran wildly after (for the lane turned)to see thevery last of him; and the last glimpse he caughtDenys was rockingto and fro on his muleand tearing his hair out. But at this sightsomething rose in Gerard's throat so highso highhe could run nomore nor breathebut gaspedand leaned against the snow-clad hedgeseizing itand choking piteously.

Thethorns ran into his hand.

Aftera bitter struggle he got his breath again; and now began to see hisown misfortune. Yet not all at once to realize itso sudden andnumbing was the stroke. He staggered onbut scarce feeling or caringwhither he was going; and every now and then he stoppedand his armsfell and his head sank on his chestand he stood motionless: then hesaid to himself"Can this thing be? this must be a dream. 'Tisscarce five minutes since we were so happywalking handedfaring toRome togetherand we admired them and their gay banners and helmetsoh hearts of hell!"

Allnature seemed to stare now as lonely as himself. Not a creature insight. No colour but white. Hethe ghost of his former selfwandered alone among the ghosts of treesand fieldsand hedges.Desolate! desolate! desolate! All was desolate.

Heknelt and gathered a little snow. "NayI dream not; for this issnow: cold as the world's heart. It is bloodytoo: what may thatmean? Fool! 'tis from thy hand. I mind not the wound AyI see:thorns. Welcome! kindly foes: I felt ye notye ran not into myheart. Ye are not cruel like men."

Hehad risenand was dragging his leaden limbs alongwhen he heardhorses' feet and gay voices behind him. He turned with a joyful butwild hope that the soldiers had relented and were bringing Denysback. But noit was a gay cavalcade. A gentleman of rank and hisfavourites in velvet and furs and feathers; and four or five armedretainers in buff jerkins.

Theyswept gaily by.

Gerardnever looked at them after they were gone by: certain gay shadows hadcome and passed; that was all. He was like one in a dream. But he wasrudely wakened; suddenly a voice in front of him cried harshly"Stand and deliver!" and there were three of thegentleman's servants in front of him. They had ridden back to robhim.

"Howye false knaves" said hequite calmly; "would ye shameyour noble master? He will hang ye to the nearest tree;" andwith these words he drew his sword doggedlyand set his back to thehedge.

Oneof the men instantly levelled his petronel at him.

Butanotherless sanguinaryinterposed. "Be not so hasty! And benot thou so mad! Look yonder!"

Gerardlookedand scarce a hundred yards off the nobleman and his friendshad haltedand sat on their horseslooking at the lawless acttooproud to do their own dirty workbut not too proud to reap thefruitand watch lest their agents should rob them of another man'smoney.

Themilder servant thena good-natured fellowshowed Gerard resistancewas vain; reminded him common thieves often took the life as well asthe purse. and assured him it cost a mint to be a gentleman; hismaster had lost money at play overnightand was going to visit hislemanand so must take money where he saw it.

"Thereforegood youthconsider that we rob not for ourselvesand deliver usthat fat purse at thy girdle without more adonor put us to the painof slitting thy throat and taking it all the same."

"Thisknave is right" said Gerard calmly. aloud but to himself. "Iought not to fling away my life; Margaret would be so sorry. Takethen the poor man's purse to the rich man's pouch; and with it this;tell himI pray the Holy Trinity each coin in it may burn his handand freeze his heartand blast his soul for ever. Begone and leaveme to my sorrow!" He flung them the purse.

Theyrode away muttering; for his words pricked them a little; a verylittle: and he staggered onpenniless now as well as friendlesstill he came to the edge of a wood. Thenthough his heart couldhardly feel this second blowhis judgment did; and he began to askhimself what was the use going further? He sat down on the hard roadand ran his nails into his hairand tried to think for the best; atask all the more difficult that a strange drowsiness was stealingover him. Rome he could never reach without money. Denys had said"Go to Strasbourgand down the Rhine home." He would obeyDenys. But how to get to Strasbourg without money?

Thensuddenly seemed to ring in his ears -
" Gyf the worldprove harsh and cold
Come back to the hedde of gold."

"Andif I do I must go as her servant; I who am Margaret's. I am a-wearya-weary. I will sleepand dream all is as it was. Ah mehow happywere we an hour agonewe little knew how happy. There is a house:the owner well-to-do. What if I told him my wrongand prayed his aidto retrieve my purseand so to Rhine? Fool! is he not a manlikethe rest? He would scorn me and trample me lower. Denys cursed therace of men. That will I never; but ohI begin to loathe and dreadthem. Nayhere will I lie till sunset: then darkling creep into thisrich man's barnand take by stealth a draught of milk or a handfulo' grainto keep body and soul together. Godwho hath seen the richrob mewill peradventure forgive me. They say 'tis ill sleeping onthe snow. Death steals on such sleepers with muffled feet and honeybreath. But what can I? I am a-wearya-weary. Shall this be the woodwhere lie the wolves yon old man spoke of? I must e'en trust them:they are not men; and I am so a-weary."

Hecrawled to the roadsideand stretched out his limbs on the snowwith a deep sigh.

"Ahtear not thine hair so! teareth my heart to see thee."

"Margaret.Never see me more. Poor Margaret."

Andthe too tender heart was still.

Andthe constant loverand friend of antique mouldlay silent on thesnow; in peril from the weatherin peril from wild beastsin perilfrom hungerfriendless and penniless in a strange landand nothalfway to Rome.

 

CHAPTERXXXIX

Rudetravel is enticing to us English. And so are its records; even thoughthe adventurer be no pilgrim of love. And antique friendship has atleast the interest of a fossil. Stillas the true centre of thisstory is in Hollandit is full time to return thitherand to thoseordinary personages and incidents whereof life has been mainlycomposed in all ages.

JorianKetel came to Peter's house to claim Margaret's promise; but Margaretwas ill in bedand Peteron hearing his errandaffronted him andwarned him off the premisesand one or two that stood by were forducking him; for both father and daughter were favouritesand thewhole story was in every mouthand Sevenbergens in that state ofhotundiscriminating irritation which accompanies popular sympathy.

SoJorian Ketel went off in dudgeonand repented him of his good deed.This sort of penitence is not rareand has the merit of beingsincere. Dierich Browerwho was discovered at "The ThreeKings" making a chatterbox drunk in order to worm out of himthe whereabouts of Martin Wittenhaagenwas actually taken and flunginto a horsepondand threatened with worse usageshould he evershow his face in the burgh again; and finallymunicipal jealousybeing rousedthe burgomaster of Sevenbergen sent a formal missive tothe burgomaster of Tergoureminding him he had overstepped the lawand requesting him to apply to the authorities of Sevenbergen on anyfuture occasion when he might have a complaintreal or imaginaryagainst any of its townsfolk.

Thewily Ghysbrechtsuppressing his rage at this remonstrancesent backa civil message to say that the person he had followed to Sevenbergenwas a Tergovianone Gerardand that he had stolen the town records:that Gerard having escaped into foreign partsand probably taken thedocuments with himthe whole matter was at an end.

Thushe made a virtue of necessity. But in reality his calmness was but aveil: baffled at Sevenbergenhe turned his views elsewhere he sethis emissaries to learn from the family at Tergou whither Gerard hadfledand "to his infinite surprise" they did not know.This added to his uneasiness. It made him fear Gerard was onlylurking in the neighbourhood: he would make a certain discoveryandwould come back and take a terrible revenge. From this time Dierichand others that were about him noticed a change for the worse inGhysbrecht Van Swieten. He became a moody irritable man. A dread layon him. His eyes cast furtive glanceslike one who expects a blowand knows not from what quarter it is to come. Making others wretchedhad not made him happy. It seldom does.

Thelittle family at Tergouwhichbut for his violent interferencemight in time have cemented its difference without banishing spemgregis to a distant landwore still the same outward featuresbutwithin was no longer the simple happy family this tale opened with.Little Kate knew the share Cornelis and Sybrandt had in banishingGerardand thoughfor fear of making more mischief stillshe nevertold her motheryet there were times she shuddered at the bare sightof themand blushed at their hypocritical regrets. Catherinewith awoman's vigilancenoticed thisand with a woman's subtlety saidnothingbut quietly pondered itand went on watching for more. Theblack sheep themselvesin their efforts to partake in the generalgloom and sorrowsucceeded so far as to impose upon their father andGiles: but the demure satisfaction that lay at their bottom could notescape these feminine eyes -

"Thatnoting allseem nought to note'

Thusmistrust and suspicion sat at the tablepoor substitutes forGerard's intelligent facethat had brightened the whole circleunobserved till it was gone. As for the old hosier his pride had beenwounded by his son's disobedienceand so he bore stiffly upand didhis best never to mention Gerard's name; but underneath his SpartancloakNature might be seen tugging at his heart-strings. One anxietyhe never affected to conceal. "If I but knew where the boy isand that his life and health are in no dangersmall would be mycare" would he say; and then a deep sigh would follow. I cannothelp thinking that if Gerard had opened the door just thenandwalked inthere would have been many tears and embraces for himandfew reproachesor none.

Onething took the old couple quite by surprise - publicity. Ere Gerardhad been gone a weekhis adventures were in every mouth; and to makematters worsethe popular sympathy declared itself warmly on theside of the loversand against Gerard's cruel parentsand that oldbusybody the burgomasterwho must put his nose into a business thatnowise concerned him."

"Mother"said Kate"it is all over the town that Margaret is down with afever - a burning fever; her father fears her sadly."

"Margaret?what Margaret?" inquired Catherinewith a treacherousassumption of calmness and indifference.

"Ohmother! whom should I mean? WhyGerard's Margaret."

"Gerard'sMargaret" screamed Catherine; "how dare you say such aword to me? And I rede you never mention that hussy's name in thishousethat she has laid bare. She is the ruin of my poor boytheflower of all my flock. She is the cause that he is not a holy priestin the midst of usbut is roaming the worldand I a desolatebroken-hearted mother. Theredo not crymy girlI do ill to speakharsh to you. But ohKate! you know not what passes in a mother'sheart. I bear up before you all; it behoves me swallow my fears; butat night I see him in my dreamsand still some trouble or other nearhim: sometimes he is torn by wild beasts; other times he is in thehands of robbersand their cruel knives uplifted to strike his poorpale facethat one should think would move a stone. Oh! when Iremember thatwhile I sit here in comfortperhaps my poor boy liesdead in some savage placeand all along of that girl: therehervery name is ratsbane to me. I tremble all over when I hear it."

"I'llnot say anythingnor do anything to grieve you worsemother"said Kate tenderly; but she sighed.

Shewhose name was so fiercely interdicted in this house was much spokenofand even pitied elsewhere. All Sevenbergen was sorry for herandthe young men and maidens cast many a pitying glanceas they passedat the little window where the beauty of the village lay "dyingfor love." In this familiar phrase they underrated her spiritand unselfishness. Gerard was not deadand she was too loyal herselfto doubt his constancy. Her father was dear to her and helpless; andbut for bodily weaknessall her love for Gerard would not have kepther from doing her dutiesthough she might have gone about them withdrooping head and heavy heart. But physical and mental excitement hadbrought on an attack of fever so violentthat nothing but youth andconstitution saved her. The malady left her at lastbut in thatterrible state of bodily weakness in which the patient feels life aburden.

Thenit is that love and friendship by the bedside are mortal angels withcomfort in their voiceand healing in their palms.

Butthis poor girl had to come back to life and vigour how she could.Many days she lay aloneand the heavy hours rolled like leaden wavesover her. In her enfeebled state existence seemed a burdenand lifea thing gone by. She could not try her best to get well. Gerard wasgone. She had not him to get well for. Often she lay for hours quitestillwith the tears welling gently out of her eyes.

Onedaywaking from an uneasy slumbershe found two women in her roomOne was a servantthe other by the deep fur on her collar andsleeves was a person of consideration: a narrow band of silvery hairbeing spared by her coiffureshowed her to be past the age whenwomen of sense concealed their years. The looks of both were kind andfriendly. Margaret tried to raise herself in the bedbut the oldlady placed a hand very gently on her.

"Liestillsweetheart; we come not here to put you aboutbut to comfortyouGod willing. Now cheer up a bitand tell usfirstwho thinkyou we are?"

"NaymadamI know youthough I never saw you before: you are thedemoiselle Van Eyckand this is Reicht Heynes. Gerard has oft spokenof youand of your goodness to him. Madamhe has no friend like younear him now" and at this thought she lay backand the tearswelled out of her eyes in a moment.

Thegood-natured Reicht Heynes began to cry for company; but her mistressscolded her. "Wellyou are a pretty one for a sick-room"said she; and she put out a world of innocent art to cheer thepatient; and not without some little success. An old womanthat hasseen life and all its troublesis a sovereign blessing by asorrowful young woman's side. She knows what to sayand what toavoid. She knows how to soothe her and interest her. Ere she had beenthere an hourshe had Margaret's head lying on her shoulder insteadof on the pillowand Margaret's soft eyes dwelling on her withgentle gratitude.

"Ah!this is hair" said the old ladyrunning her fingers throughit. "Come and look at itReicht!"

Reichtcame and handled itand praised it unaffectedly. The poor girl thatowned it was not quite out of the reach of flattery; owing doubtlessto not being dead.

"InsoothmadamI did use to think it hideous; but he praised itandever since then I have been almost vain of itsaints forgive me. Youknow how foolish those are that love."

"Theyare greater fools that don't" said the old ladysharply.

Margaretopened her lovely eyesand looked at her for her meaning.

Thiswas only the first of many visits. In fact either Margaret Van Eyckor Reicht came nearly every day until their patient was convalescent;and she improved rapidly under their hands. Reicht attributed thisprincipally to certain nourishing dishes she prepared in Peter'skitchen; but Margaret herself thought more of the kind words and eyesthat kept telling her she had friends to live for.

MartinWittenhaagen went straight to Rotterdamto take the bull by thehorns. The bull was a bipedwith a crown for horns. It was Philipthe Goodduke of thisearl of thatlord of the other. Arrived atRotterdamMartin found the court was at Ghent. To Ghent he wentandsought an audiencebut was put off and baffled by lackeys and pages.So he threw himself in his sovereign's way out huntingand contraryto all court precedentscommenced the conversation - by roaringlustily for mercy.

"Whywhere is the perilman?" said the dukelooking all round andlaughing.

"Gracefor an old soldier hunted down by burghers!"

Nowkings differ in character like other folk; but there is one traitthey have in common; they are mightily inclined to be affable to menof very low estate. These do not vie with them in anything whateverso jealousy cannot creep in; and they amuse them by their bluntnessand noveltyand refresh the poor things with a touch of nature - ararity in courts. So Philip the Good reined in his horse and gaveMartin almost a tete-a-teteand Martin reminded him of a certainbattlefield where he had received an arrow intended for hissovereign. The duke remembered the incident perfectlyand wasgraciously pleased to take a cheerful view of it. He could afford tonot having been the one hit. Then Martin told his majesty of Gerard'sfirst capture in the churchhis imprisonment in the towerand themanoeuvre by which they got him outand all the details of the hunt;and whether he told it better than I haveor the duke had not heardso many good stories as you havecertain it is that sovereign got sowrapt up in itthatwhen a number of courtiers came galloping upand interrupted Martinhe swore like a costermongerand threatenedonly half in jestto cut off the next head that should come betweenhim and a good story; and when Martin had donehe cried out -

"St.Luke! what sport goeth on in this mine earldomay! in my own woodsand I see it not. You base fellows have all the luck." And hewas indignant at the partiality of Fortune. "Lo you now! thiswas a man-hunt" said he. "I never had the luck to be at aman-hunt."

"Myluck was none so great" replied Martin bluntly: "I was onthe wrong side of the dogs' noses."

"Ah!so you were; I forgot that" And royalty was more reconciled toits lot."What would you then?"

"Afree pardonyour highnessfor myself and Gerard."

"Forwhat?"

"Forprison-breaking."

"Goto; the bird will fly from the cage. 'Tis instinct. Besidescoop ayoung man up for loving a young woman? These burgomasters must bevoid of common sense. What else?"

"Forstriking down the burgomaster."

"Ohthe hunted boar will turn to bay. 'Tis his right; and I hold him lessthan man that grudges it him. What else?"

"Forkilling of the bloodhounds."

Theduke's countenance fell.

"'Twastheir life or mine" said Martin eagerly.

"Ay!but I can't havemy bloodhoundsmy beautiful bloodhoundssacrificed to-

"Nonono! They were not your dogs."

"Whosedogsthen?"

"Theranger's."

"Oh.WellI am very sorry for himbut as I was saying I can't have myold soldiers sacrificed to his bloodhounds. Thou shalt have thy freepardon."

"Andpoor Gerard."

"Andpoor Gerard toofor thy sake. And moretell thou this burgomasterhis doings mislike me: this is to set up for a kingnot aburgomaster. I'll have no kings in Holland but one. Bid him be morehumble; or by St. Jude I'll hang him before his own dooras I hangedthe burgomaster of what's the namesome town or other in Flanders itwas; no'twas' somewhere in Brabant - no matter - I hanged himIremember that much - for oppressing poor folk."

Theduke then beckoned his chancellora pursy old fellow that rode likea sackand bade him write out a free pardon for Martin and oneGerard.

Thisprecious document was drawn up in formand signed next dayandMartin hastened home with it.

Margarethad left her bed some daysand was sitting pale and pensive by thefiresidewhen he burst inwaving the parchmentand crying"Afree pardongirlfor Gerard as well as me! Send for him back whenyou will; all the burgomasters on earth daren't lay a finger on him."

Sheflushed all over with joy and her hands trembled with eagerness asshe took the parchment and devoured it with her eyesand kissed itagain and againand flung her arms round Martin's neckand kissedhim. When she was calmershe told him Heaven had raised her up afriend in the dame Van Eyck. "And I would fain consult her onthis good news; but I have not strength to walk so far."

"Whatneed to walk? There is my mule."

"YourmuleMartin?"

Theold soldier or professional pillager laughedand confessed he hadgot so used to herthat he forgot at times Ghysbrecht had a priorclaim. To-morrow he would turn her into the burgomaster's yardbutto-night she should carry Margaret to Tergou.

Itwas nearly dusk; so Margaret venturedand about seven in the eveningshe astonished and gladdened her new but ardent friendby arrivingat her house with unwonted roses on her cheeksand Gerard's pardonin her bosom.

 

CHAPTERXL

Someare old in heart at fortysome are young at eighty. Margaret VanEyck's heart was an evergreen. She loved her young namesake withyouthful ardour. Nor was this new sentiment a mere caprice; she wasquick at reading characterand saw in Margaret Brandt that which inone of her own sex goes far with an intelligent woman; genuineness.Butbesides her own sterling qualitiesMargaret had from the firsta potent ally in the old artist's bosom.

Humannature.

Strangeas it may appear to the unobservantour hearts warm more readily tothose we have benefited than to our benefactors. Some of the Greekphilosophers noticed this; but the British Homer has stamped it inimmortal lines:- "I heardand thought how side by side
Wetwo had stemmed the battle's tide
In many a well-debatedfield
Where Bertram's breast was Philip's shield.
I thought onDarien's deserts pale
Where Death bestrides the evening gale
Howo'er my friend my cloak I threw
And fenceless faced the deadlydew.
I thought on Quariana's cliff
Whererescued from ourfoundering skiff
Through the white breakers' wrath Ibore
Exhausted Bertram to the shore:
And when his side an arrowfound
I sucked the Indian's venom'd wound.
These thoughts liketorrents rushed along
To sweep away my purpose strong."

Observe!this assassin's hand is stayed by memorynot of benefits receivedbut benefits conferred.

NowMargaret Van Eyck had been wonderfully kind to Margaret Brandt; hadbroken through her own habits to go and see her; had nursed herandsoothed herand petted herand cured her more than all the medicinein the world. So her heart opened to the recipient of her goodnessand she loved her now far more tenderly than she had ever lovedGerardthoughin truthit was purely out of regard for Gerard shehad visited her in the first instance.

Whenthereforeshe saw the roses on Margaret's cheekand read the bit ofparchment that had brought them thereshe gave up her own viewswithout a murmur.

"Sweetheart"said she"I did desire he should stay in Italy five or sixyearsand come back richand above allan artist. But yourhappiness is before alland I see you cannot live without himso wemust have him home as fast as may be."

"Ahmadam! you see my very thoughts." And the young woman hung herhead a moment and blushed. "But how to let him knowmadam? Thatpasses my skill. He is gone to Italy; but what part I know not. Stay!he named the cities he should visit. Florence was oneand Rome."But then - Finallybeing a sensible girlshe divined that a letteraddressed"My Gerard - Italy" might chance to miscarryand she looked imploringly at her friend for counsel.

"Youare come to the right placeand at the right time" said theold lady. "Here was this Hans Memling with me to-day; he isgoing to Italygirlno later than next week'to improve his hand'he says. Not before 'twas neededI do assure you."

"Buthow is he to find my Gerard?"

"Whyhe knows your Gerardchild. They have supped here more than onceand were like hand and glove. Nowas his business is the same asGerard'she will visit the same places as Gerardand soon or latehe must fall in with him. Whereforeget you a long letter writtenand copy out this pardon into itand I'll answer for the messenger.In six months at farthest Gerard shall get it; and when he shall getitthen will he kiss itand put it in his bosomand come flyinghome. What are you smiling at? And now what makes your cheeks so red?And what you are smothering me forI cannot think. Yes! happy daysare coming to my little pearl."

MeantimeMartin sat in the kitchenwith the black-jack before him and ReichtHeynes spinning beside him: andwow! but she pumped him that night.

ThisHans Memling was an old pupil of Jan Van Eyck and his sister. He wasa painter notwithstanding Margaret's sneerand a good soul enoughwith one fault. He loved the "nipperkincanakinand the brownbowl" more than they deserve. This singular penchant kept himfrom amassing fortuneand was the cause that he often came toMargaret Van Eyck for a mealand sometimes for a groat. But thisgave her a claim on himand she knew he would not trifle with anycommission she should entrust to him.

Theletter was duly written and left with Margaret Van Eyck; and thefollowing weeksure enoughHans Memling returned from FlandersMargaret Van Eyck gave him the letterand a piece of gold towardshis travelling expenses. He seemed in a hurry to be off.

"Allthe better" said the old artist; "he will be the sooner inItaly."

Butas there are horses who burn and rage to startand after the firstyard or two want the whipso all this hurry cooled into inactionwhen Hans got as far as the principal hostelry of Tergouand saw twoof his boon companions sitting in the bay window. He went in for aparting glass with them; but when he offered to paythey would nothear of itNo; he was going a long journey; they would treat him;everybody must treat himthe landlord and all.

Itresulted from this treatment that his tongue got as loose as if thewine had been oil; and he confided to the convivial crew that he wasgoing to show the Italians how to paint: next he sang his exploits inbattlefor he had handled a pike; and his amorous successes withfemalesnot present to oppose their version of the incidents. Inshort"plenus rimarum erat: huc illuc diffluebat;" andamong the miscellaneous matters that oozed outhe must blab that hewas entrusted with a letter to a townsman of theirsone Gerardagood fellow: he added "you are all good fellows:" and toimpress his eulogyslapped Sybrandt on the back so heartilyas todrive the breath out of his body.

Sybrandtgot round the table to avoid this muscular approval; but listened toevery wordand learned for the first time that Gerard was gone toItaly. Howeverto make surehe affected to doubt it.

"Mybrother Gerard is never in Italy."

"Yelieye cur" roared Hanstaking instantly the irascible turnand not being clear enough to see that hewho now sat opposite himwas the same he had praisedand hitwhen beside him. "If he isten times your brotherhe is in Italy. What call ye this? Thereread me that superscription!" and he flung down a letter on thetable.

Sybrandttook it upand examined it gravely; but eventually laid it downwith the remarkthat he could not read. Howeverone of the companyby some immense fortuitycould read; and proud of so rare anaccomplishmenttook itand read it out:

"ToGerard Eliassoenof Tergou. These by the hand of the trusty HansMemlingwith all speed."

"'Tisexcellently well writ" said the readerexamining every letter.

"Ay!"said Hans bombastically"and small wonder: 'tis writ by afamous hand; by Margaretsister of Jan Van Eyck. Blessed andhonoured be his memory! She is an old friend of mineis Margaret VanEyck."

MiscellaneousHans then diverged into forty topics.

Sybrandtstole out of the companyand went in search of Cornelis.

Theyput their heads together over the news: Italy was an immense distanceoff. If they could only keep him there?

"Keephim there? Nothing would keep him long from his Margaret."

"Curseher!" said Sybrandt. "Why didn't she die when she was aboutit?"

"Shedie? She would outlive the pest to vex us." And Cornelis waswroth at her selfishness in not dyingto oblige.

Thesetwo black sheep kept putting their heads togetherand tainting eachother worse and worsetill at last their corrupt hearts conceived aplan for keeping Gerard in Italy all his lifeand so securing hisshare of their father's substance.

Butwhen they had planned it they were no nearer the execution: for thatrequired talent: so iniquity came to a standstill. But presentlyasif Satan had come between the two headsand whispered into the rightear of one and the left of the other simultaneouslythey both burstout -

"THEBURGOMASTER!"

Theywent to Ghysbrecht Van Swietenand he received them at once: for theman who is under the torture of suspense catches eagerly atknowledge. Certainty is often painfulbut seldomlike suspenseintolerable.

"Youhave news of Gerard?" said he eagerly.

Thenthey told about the letter and Hans Memling. He listened withrestless eye. "Who writ the letter?"

"MargaretVan Eyck" was the reply; for they naturally thought thecontents were by the same hand as the superscription.

"Areye sure?" And he went to a drawer and drew out a paper writtenby Margaret Van Eyck while treating with the burgh for her house."Wasit writ like this?"

"Yes.'Tis the same writing" said Sybrandt boldly.

"Good.And now what would ye of me?" said Ghysbrechtwith beatingheartbut a carelessness so well feigned that it staggered them.They fumbled with their bonnetsand stammered and spoke a word ortwothen hesitated and beat about the bushand let out by degreesthat they wanted a letter writtento say something that might keepGerard in Italy; and this letter they proposed to substitute in HansMemling's wallet for the one he carried. While these fumbled withtheir bonnets and their iniquityand vacillated between respect fora burgomasterand suspicion that this one was as great a rogue asthemselvesand somehow or otheron their side against Gerardprosand cons were coursing one another to and fro in the keen old man'sspirit. Vengeance said let Gerard come back and feel the weight ofthe law. Prudence said keep him a thousand miles off. But thenPrudence said alsowhy do dirty work on a doubtful chance? Why putit in the power of these two rogues to tarnish your name? Finallyhis strong persuasion that Gerard was in possession of a secret bymeans of which he could wound him to the quickcoupled with hiscautionfound words thus: "It is my duty to aid the citizensthat cannot write. But for their matter I will not be responsible.Tell methenwhat I shall write."

"Somethingabout this Margaret."

"Ayay! that she is falsethat she is married to anotherI'll go bail."

"Nayburgomasternay! not for all the world!" cried Sybrandt;"Gerard would not believe itor but halfand then he wouldcome back to see. No; say that she is dead."

"Dead!whatat her agewill he credit that?"

"Soonerthan the other. Why she was nearly dead: so it is not to say adownright lieafter all."

"Humph!And you think that will keep him in Italy?"

"Weare sure of itare we notCornelis?"

"Ay"said Cornelis"our Gerard will never leave Italy now he isthere. It was always his dream to get there. He would come back forhis Margaretbut not for us. What cares he for us? He despises hisown family; always did."

"Thiswould be a bitter pill to him" said the old hypocrite.

"Itwill be for his good in the end" replied the young one.

"Whatavails Famine wedding Thirst?" said Cornelis.

"Andthe grief you are preparing for him so coolly?" Ghysbrecht spokesarcasticallybut tasted his own vengeance all the time.

"Oha lie is not like a blow with a curtal axe. It hacks no fleshandbreaks no bones."

"Acurtal axe?" said Sybrandt; "nonor even like a strokewith a cudgel." And he shot a sly envenomed glance at theburgomaster's broken nose.

Ghysbrecht'sface darkened with ire when this adder's tongue struck his wound. Butit toldas intended: the old man bristled with hate.

"Well"said he"tell me what to write for youand I must write it;but take noticeyou bear the blame if aught turns amiss. Not thehand which writesbut the tongue which dictatesdoth the deed."

Thebrothers assented warmlysneering within. Ghysbrecht then drew hisinkhorn towards himand laid the specimen of Margaret Van Eyck'swriting before himand made some inquiries as to the size and shapeof the letterwhen an unlooked-for interruption occurred; JorianKetel burst hastily into the roomand looked vexed at not findinghim alone.

"Thouseest I have matter on handgood fellow."

"Ay;but this is grave. I bring good news; but 'tis not for every ear"

Theburgomaster roseand drew Jorian aside into the embrasure of hisdeep windowand then the brothers heard them converse in low buteager tones. It ended by Ghysbrecht sending Jorian out to saddle hismule. He then addressed the black sheep with a sudden coldness thatamazed them -

"Iprize the peace of households; but this is not a thing to be done ina hurry: we will see about itwe will see."

"Butburgomasterthe man will be gone. It will be too late."

"Whereis he?"

"Atthe hostelrydrinking."

"Wellkeep him drinking! We will seewe will see." And he sent themoff discomfited.

Toexplain all this we must retrograde a step. This very morning thenMargaret Brandt had met Jorian Ketel near her own door. He passed herwith a scowl. This struck herand she remembered him.

"Stay"said she. "Yes! it is the good man who saved him. Oh! why haveyou not been near me since? And why have you not come for theparchments? Was it not true about the hundred crowns?"

Joriangave a snort; butseeing her face that looked so candidbegan tothink there might be some mistake. He told her he had comeand howhe had been received.

"Alas!"said she"I knew nought of this. I lay at Death's door. Shethen invited him to follow herand took him into the garden andshowed him the spot where the parchments were buried. "Martinwas for taking them upbut I would not let him. He put them there;and I said none should move them but youwho had earned them so wellof him and me"

"Giveme a spade!" cried Jorian eagerly. "But stay! No; he is asuspicious man. You are sure they are there still?"

"Iwill openly take the blame if human hand hath touched them."

"Thenkeep them but two hours moreI pritheegood Margaret" saidJorianand ran off to the Stadthouse of Tergou a joyful man.

Theburgomaster jogged along towards Sevenbergenwith Jorian stridingbeside himgiving him assurance that in an hour's time the missingparchments would be in his hand.

"Ahmaster!" said he"lucky for us it wasn't a thief that tookthem."

"Nota thief? not a thief? what call you himthen?"

"Wellsaving your presenceI call him a jackdaw. This is jackdaw's workif ever there was; 'take the thing you are least in need ofand hideit' - that's a jackdaw. I should know" added Jorian oracularly"for I was brought up along with a chough. He and I were bornthe same yearbut he cut his teeth long before meand wow! but mylife was a burden for years all along of him. If you had but a holein your hose no bigger than a groatin went his beak like a gimlet;andfor stealingGerard all over. What he wanted leastand anypoor Christian in the house wanted mostthat went first. Mother wasa notable womanso if she did but look roundaway flew her thimble.Father lived by cordwainingso about sunrise Jack went diligentlyoff with his awlhis waxand his twine. After thatmake your breadhow you could! One day I heard my mother tell him to his face he wasenough to corrupt half-a-dozen other children; and he only cocked hiseye at herand next minute away with the nurseling's shoe off hisvery foot. Now this Gerard is tarred with the same stick. Theparchments are no more use to him than a thimble or an awl to Jack.He took 'em out of pure mischief and hid themand you would neverhave found them but for me."

"Ibelieve you are right" said Ghysbrecht"and I have vexedmyself more than need."

Whenthey came to Peter's gate he felt uneasy.

"Iwish it had been anywhere but here."

Jorianreassured him.

"Thegirl is honest and friendly" said he. "She had nothing todo with taking themI'll be sworn;" and he led him into thegarden. "Theremasterif a face is to be believedhere theylie; and seethe mould is loose."

Heran for a spade which was stuck up in the ground at some distanceand soon went to work and uncovered a parchment. Ghysbrecht saw itand thrust him aside and went down on his knees and tore it out ofthe hole. His hands trembled and his face shone. He threw outparchment after parchmentand Jorian dusted them and cleared themand shook them. Nowwhen Ghysbrecht had thrown out a great manyhisface began to darken and lengthenand when he came to the lastheput his hands to his temples and seemed to be all amazed.

"Whatmystery lies here?" he gasped. "Are fiends mocking me? Digdeeper! There must be another."

Joriandrove the spade in and threw out quantities of hard mould. In vain.And even while he dughis master's mood had changed.

"Treason!treachery!" he cried. "You knew of this."

"Knewwhatmasterin Heaven's name?"

"Caitiffyou knew there was another one worth all these twice told.'

"'Tisfalse" cried Jorianmade suspicious by the other's suspicion."'Tis a trick to rob me of my hundred crowns. Oh! I know youburgomaster." And Jorian was ready to whimper.

Amellow voice fell on them both like oil upon the waves.

"Nogood manit is not falsenor yet is it quite true: there wasanother parchment."

"Theretherethere! Where is it?"

"But"continued Margaret calmly"it was not a town record (so youhave gained your hundred crownsgood man): it was but a private deedbetween the burgomaster here and my grandfather Flor - "

"Hushhush!"

"- is Brandt."

"Whereis itgirl? that is all we want to know."

"Havepatienceand I shall tell you. Gerard read the title of itand hesaid'This is as much yours as the burgomaster's' and he put itapartto read it with me at his leisure."

"Itis in the housethen?" said the burgomasterrecovering hiscalmness.

"Nosir" said Margaret gravely"it is not." Thenin avoice that faltered suddenly"You hunted - my poor Gerard - sohard - and so close-that you gave him - no time-to think of aught -but his life - and his grief. The parchment was in his bosomand hehath ta'en it with him."

"Whitherwhither?"

"Askme no moresir. What right is yours to question me thus? It was foryour sakegood manI put force upon my heartand came out hereand bore to speak at all to this hard old man. Forwhen I think ofthe misery he has brought on him and methe sight of him is morethan I can bear;" and she gave an involuntary shudderand wentslowly inwith her hand to her headcrying bitterly.

Remorsefor the pastand dread of the future - the slowbutas he nowfeltthe inevitable future - avariceand fearall tugged in oneshort moment at Ghysbrecht's tough heart. He hung his headand hisarms fell listless by his sides. A coarse chuckle made him startroundand there stood Martin Wittenhaagen leaning on his bowandsneering from ear to ear. At sight of the man and his grinning faceGhysbrecht's worst passions awoke.

"Ho!attach himseize himtraitor and thief!" cried he. "Dogthou shalt pay for all."

Martinwithout a wordcalmly thrust the duke's pardon under Ghysbrecht'snose. He lookedand had not a word to say. Martin followed up hisadvantage.

"Theduke and I are soldiers. He won't let you greasy burghers trample onan old comrade. He bade me carry you a message too."

"Theduke send a message to me?"

"Ay!I told him of your masterful doingsof your imprisoning Gerard forloving a girl; and says he'Tell him this is to be a kingnot aburgomaster. I'll have no kings in Holland but one. Bid him be morehumbleor I'll hang him at his own door'"

(Ghysbrechttrembled: he thought the duke capable of the deed)

"'asI hanged the burgomaster of Thingembob.' The duke could not mindwhich of you he had hungor in what part; such trifles stick not ina soldier's memory; but he was sure he had hanged one of you forgrinding poor folk'and I'm the man to hang another' quoth the goodduke."

Theserepeated insults from so mean a mancoupled with hisinvulnerabilityshielded as he was by the dukedrove the cholericold man into a fit of impotent fury: he shook his fist at thesoldierand tried to threaten himbut could not speak for the rageand mortification that choked him: then he gave a sort of screechand coiled himself up in eye and form like a rattlesnake about tostrike; and spat furiously upon Martin's doublet.

Thethick-skinned soldier treated this ebullition with genuine contempt."Here's a venomous old toad! he knows a kick from his foot wouldsend him to his last home; and he wants me to cheat the gallows. ButI have slain too many men in fair fight to lift limb against anythingless than a man; and this I count no man. What is itin Heaven'sname? an old goat's-skin bag full o' rotten bones."

"Mymule! my mule!" screamed Ghysbrecht.

Jorianhelped the old man up trembling in every joint. Once in the saddlehe seemed to gather in a moment unnatural vigour; and the figure thatwent flying to Tergou was truly weird-like and terrible: so old andwizened the face; so white and reverend the streaming hair; sobaleful the eye; so fierce the fury which shook the bent frame thatwent spurring like mad; while the quavering voice yelled"I'llmake their hearts ache. I'll make their hearts ache. I'll make theirhearts ache. I'll make their hearts ache. All of them. All! - all! -all!"

Theblack sheep sat disconsolate amidst the convivial crewand eyed HansMemling's wallet. For more ease he had taken it offand flung it onthe table. How readily they could have slipped out that letter andput in another. For the first time in their lives they were sorrythey had not learned to writelike their brother.

Andnow Hans began to talk of goingand the brothers agreed in a whisperto abandon their project for the time. They had scarcely resolvedthiswhen Dierich Brower stood suddenly in the doorwayand gavethem a wink.

Theywent out to him. "Come to the burgomaster with all speed"said he

Theyfound Ghysbrecht seated at a tablepale and agitated. Before him layMargaret Van Eyck's handwriting. "I have written what youdesired" said he. "Now for the superscription. What werethe words? did ye see?"

"Wecannot read" said Cornelis.

"Thenis all this labour lost" cried Ghysbrecht angrily. "Dolts!"

"Naybut" said Sybrandt"I heard the words readand I havenot lost them. They were'To Gerard Eliassoenthese by the hand ofthe trusty Hans Memlingwith all speed.'"

"'Tiswell. Nowhow was the letter folded? how big was it?"

"Longerthan that oneand not so long as this."

"'Tiswell. Where is he?"

"Atthe hostelry."

"Comethentake you this groatand treat him. Then ask to see the letterand put this in place of it. Come to me with the other letter."

Thebrothers assentedtook the letterand went to the hostelry.

Theyhad not been gone a minutewhen Dierich Brower issued from theStadthouseand followed them. He had his orders not to let them outof his sight till the true letter was in his master's hands. Hewatched outside the hostelry.

Hehad not long to wait. They came out almost immediatelywith downcastlooks. Dierich made up to them.

"Toolate!" they cried; "too late! He is gone."

"Gone?How long?"

"Scarcefive minutes. Cursed chance!"

"Youmust go back to the burgomaster at once" said Dierich Brower.

"Towhat end?"

"Nomatter; come!" and he hurried them to the Stadthouse.

GhysbrechtVan Swieten was not the man to accept a defeat.

"Well"said heon hearing the ill news"suppose he is gone. Is hemounted?"

"No."

"Thenwhat hinders you to come up with him?"

"Butwhat avails coming up with him! There are no hostelries on the roadhe is gone."

"Fools!"said Ghysbrecht"is there no way of emptying a man's pocketsbut liquor and sleight of hand?

Ameaning lookthat passed between Ghysbrecht and Dierichaided thebrothers' comprehension. They changed colourand lost all zeal forthe business.

"No!no! we don't hate our brother. We won't get ourselves hanged to spitehim" said Sybrandt; "that would be a fool's trick."

"Hanged!"cried Ghysbrecht. "Am I not the burgomaster? How can ye behanged? I see how 'tis ye fear to tackle one manbeing two: heartsof harethat ye are! Oh! why cannot I be young again? I'd do itsingle-handed."

Theold man now threw off all disguiseand showed them his heart was inthis deed. He then flattered and besoughtand jeered themalternatelybut he found no eloquence could move them to an actionhowever dishonourablewhich was attended with danger. At last heopened a drawerand showed them a pile of silver coins.

"Changebut those letters for me" he said"and each of you shallthrust one hand into this drawerand take away as many of them asyou can hold."

Theeffect was magical. Their eyes glittered with desire. Their wholebodies seemed to swelland rise into male energy.

"Swearitthen" said Sybrandt.

"Iswear it."

"No;on the crucifix."

Ghysbrechtswore upon the crucifix.

Thenext minute the brothers were on the roadin pursuit of HansMemling. They came in sight of him about two leagues from Tergoubutthough they knew he had no weapon but his staffthey were tooprudent to venture on him in daylight; so they fell back.

Butbeing now three leagues and more from the townand on a grassy road- sun downmoon not yet up - honest Hans suddenly found himselfattacked before and behind at once by men with uplifted kniveswhocried in loud though somewhat shaky voices"Stand and deliver!"

Theattack was so suddenand so well plannedthat Hans was dismayed."Slay me notgood fellows" he cried; "I am but apoor manand ye shall have my all."

"Sobe it then. Live! but empty thy wallet."

"Thereis nought in my walletgood friendbut one letter."

"Thatwe shall see" said Sybrandtwho was the one in front.

"Wellit is a letter."

"Takeit not from meI pray you. 'Tis worth noughtand the good damewould fret that writ it."

"There"said Sybrandt"take back thy letter; and now empty thy pouch.Come I tarry not I"

Butby this time Hans had recovered his confusion; and from a certainflutter in Sybrandtand hard breathing of Cornelisaided by anindescribable consciousnessfelt sure the pair he had to deal withwere no heroes. He pretended to fumble for his money: then suddenlythrust his staff fiercely into Sybrandt's faceand drove himstaggeringand lent Cornelis a back-handed slash on the ear thatsent him twirling like a weathercock in March; then whirled hisweapon over his head and danced about the road like a figure onspringsshouting

"Comeonye thieving loons! Come on!"

Itwas a plain invitation; yet they misunderstood it so utterly as totake to their heelswith Hans after themhe shouting "Stopthieves!" and they howling with fear and pain as they ran.

 

CHAPTERXLI

Denysplaced in the middle of his companionslest he should be so mad asattempt escape was carried off in an agony of grief and remorse. Forhis sake Gerard had abandoned the German route to Rome; and what washis reward? left all alone in the centre of Burgundy. This was thethought which maddened Denys mostand made him now rave at heavenand earthnow fall into a gloomy silence so savage and sinister thatit was deemed prudent to disarm him. They caught up their leader justoutside the townand the whole cavalcade drew up and baited at the"Tete d'Or."

Theyoung landladythough much occupied with the countand still morewith the bastardcaught sight of Denysand asked him somewhatanxiously what had become of his young companion?

Denyswith a burst of grieftold her alland prayed her to send afterGerard. "Now he is parted from mehe will maybe listen to myrede" said he; "poor wretchhe loves not solitude."

Thelandlady gave a toss of her head. "I trow I have been somewhatover-kind already" said sheand turned rather red.

"Youwill not?"

"NotI."

"Then"- and he poured a volley of curses and abuse upon her.

Sheturned her back upon himand went off whimperingand Saying she wasnot used to be cursed at; and ordered her hind to saddle two mules.

Denyswent north with his troopmute and drooping over his saddleandquite unknown to himthat veracious young lady made an equestriantoilet in only forty minutesshe being really in a hurryandspurred away with her servant in the opposite direction.

Atdarkafter a long marchthe bastard and his men reached "TheWhite Hart;" their arrival caused a prodigious bustleand itwas some time before Manon discovered her old friend among so many.When she didshe showed it only by heightened colour. She did notclaim the acquaintance. The poor soul was already beginning to scorn.

"Thebase degrees by which she did ascend."

Denyssaw but could not smile. The inn reminded him too much of Gerard.

Erethe night closed the wind changed. She looked into the room andbeckoned him with her finger. He rose sulkilyand his guards withhim.

"NayI would speak a word to thee in private."

Shedrew him to a corner of the roomand there asked him under herbreath would he do her a kindness.

Heanswered out loud"Nohe would not; he was not in the vein todo kindnesses to man or woman. If he did a kindness it should be to adog; and not that if he could help it."

"Alasgood archerI did you one eftsoonsyou and your pretty comrade"said Manon humbly.

"Youdiddameyou did; well thenfor his sake - what is't to do?"

"Thouknowest my story. I had been unfortunate. Now I am worshipful. But awoman did cast him in my teeth this day. And so 'twill be ever whilehe hangs there. I would have him ta'en down; well-a-day!"

"Withall my heart."

"Andnone dare I ask but thee. Wilt do't?"

"NotIeven were I not a prisoner."

Onthis stern refusal the tender Manon sighedand clasped her palmstogether despondently. Denys told her she need not fret. There weresoldiers of a lower stamp who would not make two bites of such acherry. It was a mere matter of money; if she could find two angelshe would find two soldiers to do the dirty work of "The WhiteHart."

Thiswas not very palatable. Howeverreflecting that soldiers were birdsof passagedrinking here to-nightknocked on the head thereto-morrowshe said softly"Send them out to me. But pritheetell them that 'tis for one that is my friend; let them not think'tis for me; I should sink into the earth; times are changed."

Denysfound warriors glad to win an angel apiece so easily. He sent themoutand instantly dismissing the subject with contemptsat broodingon his lost friend.

Manonand the warriors soon came to a general understanding. But what werethey to do with the body when taken down? She murmured"Theriver is nigh the - the place."

"Flinghim ineh?"

"Naynay; be not so cruel! Could ye not put him - gently - and - withsomewhat weighty?"

Shemust have been thinking on the subject in detail; for she was not oneto whom ideas came quickly.

Allwas speedily agreedexcept the time of payment. The mail-clad itchedfor itand sought it in advance. Manon demurred to that.

Whatdid she doubt their word? then let her come along with themor watchthem at a distance.

"Me?"said Manon with horror. "I would liever die than see it done."

"Whichyet you would have done."

"Ayfor sore is my need. Times are changed."

Shehad already forgotten her precept to Denys.

Anhour later the disagreeable relic of caterpillar existence ceased tocanker the worshipful matron's public lifeand the grim eyes of thepast to cast malignant glances down into a white hind's clover field.

Total.She made the landlord an average wifeand a prime house-dogandoutlived everybody.

Hertroopswhen they returned from executing with mediaeval naivete theprecept"Off wi' the auld love" received a shock. Theyfound the market-place black with groups; it had been empty an hourago. Conscience smote them. This came of meddling with the dead.Howeverthe bolder of the twoencouraged by the darknessstoleforward aloneand slily mingled with a group: he soon returned tohis companionsayingin a tone of reproach not strictly reasonable

"Yeborn foolit is only a miracle."

 

CHAPTERXLII

Lettersof fire on the church wall had just inquiredwith an appearance ofgenuine curiositywhy there was no mass for the duke in this time oftrouble. The supernatural expostulation had been seen by manyandhad gradually fadedleaving the spectators glued there gaping. Theupshot wasthat the corporationnot choosing to be behind theangelic powers in loyalty to a temporal sovereigninvested freely inmasses. By this an old friend of oursthe cureprofited in hardcash; for which he had a very pretty taste. But for this I would notof course have detained you over so trite an occurrence as a miracle.

Denysbegged for his arms. "Why disgrace him as well as break hisheart?"

"Thenswear on the cross of thy sword not to leave the bastard's serviceuntil the sedition shall be put down." He yielded to necessityand delivered three volleys of oathsand recovered his arms andliberty.

Thetroops halted at "The Three Fish" and Marion at sight ofhim cried out"I'm out of luck; who would have thought to seeyou again?" Then seeing he was sadand rather hurt than amusedat this blunt jestshe asked him what was amiss? He told her. Shetook a bright view of the case. Gerard was too handsome andwell-behaved to come to harm. The women too would always be on hisside. Moreoverit was clear that things must either go well or illwith him. In the former case he would strike in with some goodcompany going to Rome; in the latter he would return homeperhaps bethere before his friend; "for you have a trifle of fighting todo in Flanders by all accounts." She then brought him his goldpiecesand steadily refused to accept onethough he urged her againand again. Denys was somewhat convinced by her argumentbecause sheconcurred with his own wishesand was also cheered a little byfinding her so honest. It made him think a little better of thatworld in which his poor little friend was walking alone.

Footsoldiers in small bodies down to twos and threes were already on theroadmaking lazily towards Flandersmany of them pennilessbutpassed from town to town by the bailiffswith orders for food andlodging on the innkeepers.

Anthonyof Burgundy overtook numbers of theseand gathered them under hisstandardso that he entered Flanders at the head of six hundred men.On crossing the frontier he was met by his brother Baldwynwith menarmsand provisions; he organized his whole force and marched on inbattle array through several townsnot only without impedimentbutwith great acclamations. This loyalty called forth comments notaltogether gracious.

"Thisrebellion of ours is a bite" growled a soldier called Simonwho had elected himself Denys's comrade.

Denyssaid nothingbut made a little vow to St. Mars to shoot this Anthonyof Burgundy deadshould the rebellionthat had cost him Gerardprove no rebellion.

Thatafternoon they came in sight of a strongly fortified town; and awhisper went through the little army that this was a disaffectedplace.

Butwhen they came in sightthe great gate stood openand the towersthat flanked it on each side were manned with a single sentinelapiece. So the advancing force somewhat broke their array and marchedcarelessly.

Whenthey were within a furlongthe drawbridge across the moat roseslowly and creaking till it stood vertical against the fort and thevery moment it settled into this warlike attitudedown rattled theportcullis at the gateand the towers and curtains bristled withlances and crossbows.

Astern hum ran through the bastard's front rank and spread to therear.

"Halt!"cried he. The word went down the lineand they halted. "Heraldto the gate!" A pursuivant spurred out of the ranksand haltingtwenty yards from the gateraised his bugle with his herald's flaghanging down round itand blew a summons. A tall figure in brazenarmour appeared over the gate. A few fiery words passed between himand the heraldwhich were not audiblebut their import clearforthe herald blew a single keen and threatening note at the wallsandcame galloping back with war in his face. The bastard moved out ofthe line to meet himand their heads had not been together twoseconds ere he turned in his saddle and shouted"Pioneerstothe van!" and in a moment hedges were levelledand the forcetook the field and encamped just out of shot from the walls; and awaywent mounted officers flying southeastand westto the friendlytownsfor catapultspalisadesmanteletsraw hidestar-barrelscarpentersprovisionsand all the materials for a siege.

Thebright perspective mightily cheered one drooping soldier. At thefirst clang of the portcullis his eyes brightened and his templeflushed; and when the herald came back with battle in his eye he sawit in a momentand for the first time this many days cried"Couragetout le mondele diable est mort."

Ifthat great warrior heardhow he must have grinned!

Thebesiegers encamped a furlong from the wallsand made roads; kepttheir pikemen in camp ready for an assault when practicable; and sentforward their sapperspioneers. catapultiersand crossbowmen. Theseopened a siege by filling the moatand miningor breaching thewalletc. And as much of their work had to be done under close fireof arrowsquarelsboltsstonesand little rocksthe aboveartists "had need of a hundred eyes" and acted in concertwith a vigilanceand an amount of individual intelligencedaringand skillthat made a siege very interestingand even amusing: tolookers on.

Thefirst thing they did was to advance their carpenters behind rollingmanteletsto erect a stockade high and strong on the very edge ofthe moat. Some lives were lost at thisbut not many; for a strongforce of crossbowmenincluding Denysrolled their mantelets up andshot over the workmen's heads at every besieged who showed his noseand at every loopholearrow-slitor other aperturewhich commandedthe particular spot the carpenters happened to be upon. Covered bytheir condensed firethese soon raised a high palisade between themand the ordinary missiles from the pierced masonry.

Butthe besieged expected thisand ran out at night their boards orwooden penthouses on the top of the curtains. The curtains were builtwith square holes near the top to receive the beams that supportedthese structuresthe true defence of mediaeval fortsfrom which thebesieged delivered their missiles with far more freedom and varietyof range than they could shoot through the oblique but immovableloopholes of the curtainor even through the sloping crenelets ofthe higher towers. On this the besiegers brought up mangonelsandset them hurling huge stones at these woodworks and battering them topieces. Contemporaneously they built a triangular wooden tower ashigh as the curtainand kept it ready for useand just out of shot.

Thiswas a terrible sight to the besieged. These wooden towers had takenmany a town. They began to mine underneath that part of the moat thetower stood frowning at; and made other preparations to give it awarm reception. The besiegers also minedbut at another parttheirobject being to get under the square barbican and throw it down. Allthis time Denys was behind his mantelet with another arbalestrierprotecting the workmen and making some excellent shots. These endedby earning him the esteem of an unseen archerwho every now and thensent a winged compliment quivering into his mantelet. One came andstruck within an inch of the narrow slit through which Denys wassquinting at the moment. "Peste" cried heyou shoot wellmy friend. Come forth and receive my congratulations! Shall meritsuch as thine hide its head? Comradeit is one of those cursedEnglishmenwith his half ell shaft. I'll not die till I've had ashot at London wall."

Onthe side of the besieged was a figure that soon attracted greatnotice by promenading under fire. It was a tall knightclad incomplete brassand carrying a light but prodigiously long lancewith which he directed the movements of the besieged. And when anydisaster befell the besiegersthis tall knight and his long lancewere pretty sure to be concerned in it.

Myyoung reader will say"Why did not Denys shoot him?" Denysdid shoot him; every day of his life; other arbalestriers shot him;archers shot him. Everybody shot him. He was there to be shotapparently. But the abomination washe did not mind being shot. Nayworsehe got at last so demoralised as not to seem to know when hewas shot. He walked his battlements under fireas some stout skipperpaces his deck in a suit of Flushingcalmly oblivious of the Aprildrops that fall on his woollen armour. At last the besiegers gotspitefuland would not waste any more good steel on him; but cursedhim and his impervious coat of mail.

Hetook those missiles like the rest.

Gunpowderhas spoiled war. War was always detrimental to the solid interests ofmankind. But in old times it was good for something: it painted wellsang divinelyfurnished Iliads. But invisible butcheryunder a pallof smoke a furlong thickwho is any the better for that? Poet withhis note-book may repeat"Suave etiam belli certamina magnatueri;" but the sentiment is hollow and savours of cuckoo. Youcan't tueri anything but a horrid row. He didn't say"Suaveetiam ingentem caliginem tueri per campos instructam."

Theymanaged better in the Middle Ages.

Thissiege was a small affair; butsuch as it wasa writer or minstrelcould see itand turn an honest penny by singing it; so far then thesport was reasonableand served an end.

Itwas a bright dayclearbut not quite frosty. The efforts of thebesieging force were concentrated against a space of about twohundred and fifty yardscontaining two curtains and two towersoneof which was the square barbicanthe other had a pointed roof thatwas built to overlapresting on a stone machicoladeand by thismeans a row of dangerous crenelets between the roof and the masonrygrinned down at the nearer assailantsand looked not very unlike thegrinders of a modern frigate with each port nearly closed. Thecurtains were overlapped with penthouses somewhat shattered by themangonelstrebuchetsand other slinging engines of the besiegers.On the besiegers' edge of the moat was what seemed at first sight agigantic arsenallonger than it was broadpeopled by human antsand full of busyhonest industryand displaying all the variousmechanical science of the age in full operation. Here the lever atworkthere the winch and pulleyhere the balancethere thecapstan. Everywhere heaps of stonesand piles of fascinesmanteletsand rows of fire-barrels. Mantelets rollingthe hammertapping all dayhorses and carts in endless succession rattling upwith materials. Onlyon looking closer into the hive of industryyou might observe that arrows were constantly flying to and frothatthe cranes did not tenderly deposit their masses of stonebut flungthem with an indifference to propertythough on scientificprinciplesand that among the tubs full of arrowsand thetar-barrels and the beamsthe fagotsand other utensilshere andthere a workman or a soldier lay flatter than is usual in limitednapsand something more or less feathered stuck in themand bloodand other essentialsoozed out.

Atthe edge of the moat opposite the wooden towera strong penthousewhich they called "a cat" might be seen stealing towardsthe curtainand gradually filling up the moat with fascines andrubbishwhich the workmen flung out at its mouth. It was advanced bytwo sets of ropes passing round pulleysand each worked by awindlass at some distance from the cat. The knight burnt the firstcat by flinging blazing tar-barrels on it. So the besiegers made theroof of this one very steepand covered it with raw hidesand thetar-barrels could not harm it. Then the knight made signs with hisspearand a little trebuchet behind the walls began dropping stonesjust clear of the wall into the moatand at last they got the rangeand a stone went clean through the roof of the catand made an uglyhole.

Baldwynof Burgundy saw thisand losing his temperordered the greatcatapult that was battering the wood-work of the curtain opposite itto be turned and levelled slantwise at this invulnerable knight.Denys and his Englishman went to dinner. These two worthies beingeternally on the watch for one another had made a sort of distantacquaintanceand conversed by signsespecially on a topic that inpeace or war maintains the same importance. Sometimes Denys would puta piece of bread on the top of his manteletand then the archerwould hang something of the kind out by a string; or the order ofinvitation would be reversed. Anywaythey always managed to dinetogether.

Andnow the engineers proceeded to the unusual step of slingingfifty-pound stones at an individual.

Thiscatapult was a scientificsimpleand beautiful engineand veryeffective in vertical fire at the short ranges of the period.

Imaginea fir-tree cut downand set to turn round a horizontal axis on loftyuprightsbut not in equilibrio; three-fourths of the tree being onthe hither side. At the shorter and thicker end of the tree wasfastened a weight of half a ton. This butt end just before thedischarge pointed towards the enemy. By means of a powerful winch thelong tapering portion of the tree was forced down to the very groundand fastened by a bolt; and the stone placed in a sling attached tothe tree's nose. But this process of course raised the butt end withits huge weight high in the airand kept it there struggling in vainto come down. The bolt was now drawn; Gravityan institution whichflourished even thenresumed its swaythe short end swung furiouslydownthe long end went as furiously round upand at its highestelevation flung the huge stone out of the sling with a tremendousjerk. In this case the huge mass so flung missed the knight; but camedown near him on the penthouseand went through it like papermaking an awful gap in roof and floor. Through the latter fell outtwo inanimate objectsthe stone itself and the mangled body of abesieger it had struck. They fell down the high curtain sidedowndownand struck almost together the sullen waters of the moatwhichclosed bubbling on themand kept both the stone and the bone twohundred yearstill cannon mocked those oft perturbed watersandcivilization dried them.

"Aha!a good shot" cried Baldwyn of Burgundy.

Thetall knight retired. The besiegers hooted him.

Hereappeared on the platform of the barbicanhis helmet being justvisible above the parapet. He seemed very busyand soon an enormousTurkish catapult made its appearance on the platform and aided by theelevation at which it was plantedflung a twentypound stone some twohundred and forty yards in the air; it bounded after thatandknocked some dirt into the Lord Anthony's eyeand made him swear.The next stone struck a horse that was bringing up a sheaf of arrowsin a cartbowled the horse over dead like a rabbitand spilt thecart. It was then turned at the besiegers' wooden towersupposed tobe out of shot. Sir Turk slung stones cut with sharp edges onpurposeand struck it repeatedlyand broke it in several places.The besiegers turned two of their slinging engines on this monsterand kept constantly slinging smaller stones on to the platform of thebarbicanand killed two of the engineers. But the Turk disdained toretort. He flung a forty-pound stone on to the besiegers' greatcatapultand hitting it in the neighbourhood of the axisknockedthe whole structure to piecesand sent the engineers skipping andyelling.

Inthe afternoonas Simon was running back to his mantelet from apalisade where he had been shooting at the besiegedDenyspeepingthrough his slitsaw the poor fellow suddenly stare and hold out hisarmsthen roll on his faceand a feathered arrow protruded from hisback. The archer showed himself a moment to enjoy his skill. It wasthe Englishman. Denysalready preparedshot his boltand themurderous archer staggered away wounded. But poor Simon never moved.His wars were over.

"Iam unlucky in my comrades" said Denys.

Thenext morning an unwelcome sight greeted the besieged. The cat wascovered with mattresses and raw hidesand fast filling up the moat.The knight stoned itbut in vain; flung burning tar-barrels on itbut in vain. Then with his own hands he let down by a rope a bag ofburning sulphur and pitchand stunk them out. But Baldwynarmedlike a lobsterranand bounding on the roofcut the stringandthe work went on. Then the knight sent fresh engineers into the mineand undermined the place and underpinned it with beamsand coveredthe beams thickly with grease and tar.

Atbreak of day the moat was filledand the wooden tower began to moveon its wheels towards a part of the curtain on which two catapultswere already playing to breach the hoardsand clear the way. Therewas something awful and magical in its approach without visibleagencyfor it was driven by internal rollers worked by leverage. Onthe top was a platformwhere stood the first assailing partyprotected in front by the drawbridge of the turretwhich stoodvertical till lowered on to the wall; but better protected by fullsuits of armour. The beseiged slung at the towerand struck itoftenbut in vain. It was well defended with mattresses and hidesand presently was at the edge of the moat. The knight bade fire themine underneath it.

Thenthe Turkish engine flung a stone of half a hundredweight rightamongst the knightsand carried two away with it off the tower on tothe plain. One lay and writhed: the other neither moved nor spake.

Andnow the besieging catapults flung blazing tar-barrelsand fired thehoards on both sidesand the assailants ran up the ladders behindthe towerand lowered the drawbridge on to the battered curtainwhile the catapults in concert flung tar-barrels and fired theadjoining works to dislodge the defenders. The armed men on theplatform sprang on the bridgeled by Baldwyn. The invulnerableknight and his men-at-arms met themand a fearful combat ensuedinwhich many a figure was seen to fall headlong down off the narrowbridge. But fresh besiegers kept swarming up behind the towerandthe besieged were driven off the bridge.

Anotherminuteand the town was taken; but so well had the firing of themine been timedthat just at this instant the underpinners gave wayand the tower suddenly sank away from the wallstearing thedrawbridge clear and pouring the soldiers off it against the masonryand on to the dry moat. The besieged uttered a fierce shoutand in amoment surrounded Baldwyn and his fellows; but strange to sayoffered them quarter. While a party disarmed and disposed of theseothers fired the turret in fifty places with a sort of hand grenades.At this work who so busy as the tall knight. He put the fire-bags onhis long spearand thrust them into the doomed structure late soterrible. To do this he was obliged to stand on a projecting beam ofthe shattered hoardholding on by the hand of a pikeman to steadyhimself. This provoked Denys; he ran out from his mantelethoping toescape notice in the confusionand levelling his crossbow missed theknight cleanbut sent his bolt into the brain of the pikemanandthe tall knight fell heavily from the walllance and all. Denysgazed wonder-struck; and in that unlucky momentsuddenly he felt hisarm hotthen coldand there was an English arrow skewering it.

Thisepisode was unnoticed in a much greater matter. The knighthisarmour glittering in the morning sunfell headlongbut turning ashe neared the waterstruck it with a slap that sounded a mile off.

Noneever thought to see him again. But he fell at the edge of thefascines on which the turret stood all cocked on one sideand hisspear stuck into them under waterand by a mighty effort he got tothe sidebut could not get out. Anthony sent a dozen knights with awhite flag to take him prisoner. He submitted like a lambbut saidnothing.

Hewas taken to Anthony's tent.

Thatworthy laughed at first at the sight of his muddy armour. butpresentlyfrowningsaid"I marvelsirthat so good a knightas you should know his devoir so ill as turn rebeland give us allthis trouble."

"Iam nun-nun-nun-nun-nun-no knight."

"Whatthen?"

"Ahosier."

"Awhat? Then thy armour shall be stripped offand thou shalt be tiedto a stake in front of the worksand riddled with arrows for awarning to traitors."

"N-n-n-n-no!duda-duda-duda-duda-don't do that."

"Whynot?"

"Tuta-tuta-tuta-townsfolkwill-h-h-h-hang t'other buba-buba-buba-buba-bastard."

"Whatwhom?"

"Yourbub-bub-bub-brother Baldwyn."

"Whathave you knaves ta'en him?"

Thewarlike hosier nodded.

"Hangthe fool!" said Anthonypeevishly.

Thewarlike hosier watched his eyeand doffing his helmettook out ofthe lining an intercepted letter from the dukebidding the saidAnthony come to court immediatelyas he was to represent the courtof Burgundy at the court of England; was to go over and receive theEnglish king's sisterand conduct her to her bridegroomthe Earl ofCharolois. The mission was one very soothing to Anthony's prideandalso to his love of pleasure. For Edward the Fourth held the gayestand most luxurious court in Europe. The sly hosier saw he longed tobe offand said"We'll gega-gega-gega-gega-give ye a thousandangels to raise the siege."

"AndBaldwyn?"

"I'llgega-gega-gega-gega-go and send him with the money.

Itwas now dinner-time; and a flag of truce being hoisted on both sidesthe sham knight and the true one dined together and came to afriendly understanding.

"Butwhat is your grievancemy good friend?"

"Tuta-tuta-tuta-tuta-toomuch taxes."

Denyson finding the arrow in his right armturned his backwhich wasprotected by a long shieldand walked sulkily into camp. He was metby the Comte de Jarnacwho had seen his brilliant shotand findinghim wounded into the bargaingave him a handful of broad pieces.

"Hastgot the better of thy griefarbalestriermethinks."

"Mygriefyes; but not my love. As soon as ever I have put down thisrebellionI go to Hollandand there I shall meet with him."

Thisevent was nearer than Denys thought. He was relieved from servicenext dayand though his wound was no trifleset out with a stoutheart to rejoin his friend in Holland.

 

CHAPTERXLIII

Achange came over Margaret Brandt. She went about her household dutieslike one in a dream. If Peter did but speak a little quickly to hershe started and fixed two terrified eyes on him. She went less oftento her friend Margaret Van Eyckand was ill at her ease when there.Instead of meeting her warm old friend's caressesshe used toreceive them passive and tremblingand sometimes almost shrink fromthem. But the most extraordinary thing wasshe never would gooutside her own house in daylight. When she went to Tergou it wasafter duskand she returned before daybreak. She would not even goto matins. At last Peterunobservant as he wasnoticed itandasked her the reason.

"Methinksthe folk all look at me.

OnedayMargaret Van Eyck asked her what was the matter.

Ascared look and a flood of tears were all the reply; the old ladyexpostulated gently. "Whatsweetheartafraid to confide yoursorrows to me?"

"Ihave no sorrowsmadambut of my own making. I am kinder treatedthan I deserve; especially in this house."

"Thenwhy not come oftenermy dear?"

"Icome oftener than I deserve;" and she sighed deeply.

"ThereReicht is bawling for you" said Margaret Van Eyck; "gochild! - what on earth can it be?"

Turningpossibilities over in her mindshe thought Margaret must bemortified at the contempt with which she was treated by Gerard'sfamily. "I will take them to task for itat least such of themas are women;" and the very next day she put on her hood andcloak and followed by Reichtwent to the hosier's house. Catherinereceived her with much respectand thanked her with tears for herkindness to Gerard. But whenencouraged by thisher visitordiverged to Margaret BrandtCatherine's eyes driedand her lipsturned to half the sizeand she looked as only obstinateignorantwomen can look. When they put on this cast of featuresyou might aswell attempt to soften or convince a brick wall. Margaret Van Eycktriedbut all in vain. So thennot being herself used to bethwartedshe got provokedand at last went out hastily with anabrupt and mutilated curtseywhich Catherinereturned with an airrather of defiance than obeisance. Outside the door Margaret Van Eyckfound Reicht conversing with a pale girl on crutches. Margaret VanEyck was pushing by them with heightened colourand a scornful tossintended for the whole familywhen suddenly a little delicate handglided timidly into hersand looking round she saw two dove-likeeyeswith the water in themthat sought hers gratefully and at thesame time imploringly. The old lady read this wonderful lookcomplexas it wasand down went her choler. She stopped and kissed Kate'sbrow. "I see" said she. "MindthenI leave it toyou." Returned homeshe said - "I have been to a houseto-daywhere I have seen a very common thing and a very uncommonthing; I have seen a stupidobstinate womanand I have seen anangel in the fleshwith a face-if I had it here I'd take down mybrushes once more and try and paint it."

LittleKate did not belie the good opinion so hastily formed of her. Shewaited a better opportunityand told her mother what she had learnedfrom Reicht Heynesthat Margaret had shed her very blood for Gerardin the wood.

"Seemotherhow she loves him."

"Whowould not love him?"

"ohmotherthink of it! Poor thing."

"Aywench. She has her own troubleno doubtas well as we ours. I can'tabide the sight of bloodlet alone my own."

Thiswas a point gained; but when Kate tried to follow it up she wasstopped short.

Abouta month after this a soldier of the Dalgetty tribereturning fromservice in Burgundybrought a letter one evening to the hosier'shouse. He was away on business; but the rest of the family sat atSupper. The soldier laid the letter on the table by Catherineandrefusing all guerdon for bringing itwent off to Sevenbergen.

Theletter was unfolded and spread out; and curiously enoughthough notone of them could readthey could all tell it was Gerard'shandwriting.

"Andyour father must be away" cried Catherine. "Are ye notashamed of yourselves? not one that can read your brother's letter."

Butalthough the words were to them what hieroglyphics are to ustherewas something in the letter they could read. There is an art canspeak without words; unfettered by the penman's limitsit can stealthrough the eye into the heart and brainalike of the learned andunlearned; and it can cross a frontier or a seayet lose nothing. Itis at the mercy of no translator; for it writes an universallanguage.

Whenthereforethey saw this
[a picture of two hands claspedtogether]

whichGerard had drawn with his pencil between the two short paragraphsofwhich his letter consistedthey read itand it went straight totheir hearts.

Gerardwas bidding them farewell

Asthey gazed on that simple sketchin every turn and line of whichthey recognized his mannerGerard seemed presentand bidding themfarewell.

Thewomen wept over it till they could see it no longer.

Gilessaid"Poor Gerard!" in a lower voice than seemed to belongto him.

EvenCornelis and Sybrandt felt a momentary remorseand sat silent andgloomy.

Buthow to get the words read to them. They were loth to show theirignorance and their emotion to a stranger.

"TheDame Van Eyck?" said Kate timidly.

"Andso I willKate. She has a good heart. She loves Gerardtoo. Shewill be glad to hear of him. I was short with her when she came here;but I will make my submissionand then she will tell me what my poorchild says to me."

Shewas soon at Margaret Van Eyck's house. Reicht took her into a roomand said"Bide a minute; she is at her orisons."

Therewas a young woman in the room seated pensively by the stove; but sherose and courteously made way for the visitor.

"Thankyouyoung lady; the winter nights are coldand your stove is atreat." Catherine thenwhile warming her handsinspected hercompanion furtively from head to footinclusive. The young personwore an ordinary wimplebut her gown was trimmed with furwhichwasin those daysalmost a sign of superior rank or wealth. Butwhat most struck Catherine was the candour and modesty of the face.She felt sure of sympathy from so good a countenanceand began togossip.

"Nowwhat think you brings me hereyoung lady? It is a letter! a letterfrom my poor boy that is far away in some savage part or other. And Itake shame to say that none of us can read it. I wonder whether youcan read?"

"Yes."

"Canyenow? It is much to your creditmy dear. I dare say she won't belong; but every minute is an hour to a poor longing mother."

"Iwill read it to you."

"Blessyoumy dear; bless you!"

Inher unfeigned eagerness she never noticed the suppressed eagernesswith which the hand was slowly put out to take the letter. She didnot see the tremor with which the fingers closed on it.

"Comethenread it to meprithee. I am wearying for it."

"Thefirst words are'To my honoured parents.'"

"Ay!and he always did honour uspoor soul"

"'Godand the saints have you in His holy keepingand bless you by nightand by day. Your one harsh deed is forgotten; your years of loveremembered.'"

Catherinelaid her hand on her bosomand sank back in her chair with one longsob.

"Thencomes thismadam. It doth speak for itself; 'a long farewell.'"

"Aygo on; bless yougirl you give me sorry comfort. Still 'tiscomfort."

"'Tomy brothers Cornelis and Sybrandt - Be content; you will see me nomore!'"

"Whatdoes that mean? Ah!"

"'Tomy sister Kate. Little angel of my father's house. Be kind to her -'Ah!"

"Thatis Margaret Brandtmy dear - his sweetheartpoor soul. I've notbeen kind to hermy dear. Forgive meGerard!"

"'- for poor Gerard's sake: since grief to her is death to me- Ah!"And natureresenting the poor girl's struggle for unnaturalcomposuresuddenly gave wayand she sank from her chair and layinsensiblewith the letter in her hand and her head on Catherine'sknees.

 

CHAPTERXLIV

Experiencedwomen are not frightened when a woman faintsor do they hastilyattribute it to anything but physical causeswhich they have oftenseen produce it. Catherine bustled about; laid the girl down with herhead on the floor quite flatopened the windowand unloosed herdress as she lay. Not till she had done all this did she step to thedoor and sayrather loudly:

"Comehereif you please."

MargaretVan Eyck and Reicht cameand found Margaret lying quite flatandCatherine beating her hands.

"Ohmy poor girl! What have you done to her?"

"Me?"said Catherine angrily.

"Whathas happenedthen?"

"Nothingmadam; nothing more than is natural in her situation."

MargaretVan Eyck coloured with ire.

"Youdo well to speak so coolly" said she"you that are thecause of her situation."

"ThatI am not" said Catherine bluntly; "nor any woman born."

"What!was it not you and your husband that kept them apart? and now he hasgone to Italy all alone. Situation indeed! You have broken her heartamongst you."

"Whymadam? Who is it then? in Heaven's name! To hear youone would thinkthis was my Gerard's lass. But that can't be.This fur never cost lessthan five crowns the ell; besidesthis young gentlewoman is a wife;or ought to be."

"Ofcourse she ought. And who is the cause she is none? Who came beforethem at the very altar?"

"Godforgive themwhoever it was" said Catherine gravely; "meit was notnor my man."

"Well"said the othera little softened"now you have seen herperhaps you will not be quite so bitter against her madam. She iscoming tothank Heaven."

"Mebitter against her?" said Catherine; "nothat is all over.Poor soul! trouble behind her and trouble afore her; and to think ofmy setting herof all living womento read Gerard's letter to me.Ayand that was what made her go offI'll be sworn. She is comingto. Whatsweetheart! be not afeardnone are here but friends"

Theyseated her in an easy chair. As the colour was creeping back to herface and lips. Catherine drew Margaret Van Eyck aside.

"Isshe staying with youif you please?"

"Nomadam."

"Iwouldn't let her go back to Sevenbergen to-nightthen."

"Thatis as she pleases. She still refuses to bide the night."

"Aybut you are older than she is; you can make her. Thereshe isbeginning to notice."

Catherinethen put her mouth to Margaret Van Eyck's ear for half a moment; itdid not seem time enough to whisper a wordfar less a sentence. Buton some topics females can flash communication to female likelightningor thought itself.

Theold lady startedand whispered back -

"It'sfalse! it is a calumny! it is monstrous! look at her face. It isblasphemy to accuse such a face."

"Tut!tut! tut!" said the other; "you might as well say this isnot my hand. I ought to know; and I tell ye it is so.

Thenmuch to Margaret Van Eyck's surpriseshe went up to the girlandtaking her round the neckkissed her warmly.

"Isuffered for Gerardand you shed your blood for him I do hear; hisown words show me that I have been to blamethe very words you haveread to me. AyGerardmy childI have held aloof from her; butI'll make it up to her once I begin. You are my daughter from thishour."

Anotherwarm embrace sealed this hasty compactand the woman of impulse wasgone.

Margaretlay back in her chairand a feeble smile stole over her face.Gerard's mother had kissed her and called her daughter; but the nextmoment she saw her old friend looking at her with a vexed air.

"Iwonder you let that woman kiss you."

"Hismother!" murmured Margarethalf reproachfully.

"Motheror no motheryou would not let her touch you if you knew what shewhispered in my ear about you."

"Aboutme?" said Margaret faintly.

"Ayabout youwhom she never saw till to-night." The old lady wasproceedingwith some hesitation and choice of languageto makeMargaret share her indignationwhen an unlooked-for interruptionclosed her lips.

Theyoung woman slid from her chair to her kneesand began to praypiteously to her for pardon. From the words and the manner of herpenitence a bystander would have gathered she had inflicted somecruel wrongsome intolerable insultupon her venerable friend.

 

CHAPTERXLV

Thelittle party at the hosier's house sat at table discussing the recenteventwhen their mother returnedand casting a piercing glance allround the little circlelaid the letter flat on the table. Sherepeated every word of it by memoryfollowing the lines with herfingerto cheat herself and bearers into the notion that she couldread the wordsor nearly. Thensuddenly lifting her headshe castanother keen look on Cornelis and Sybrandt: their eyes fell.

Onthis the storm that had long been brewing burst on their heads.

Catherineseemed to swell like an angry hen ruffling her feathersand out ofher mouth came a Rhone and Saone of wisdom and twaddleof great andmean invectivesuch as no male that ever was born could utter in onecurrent; and not many women.

Thefollowing is a fair though a small sample of her words: only theywere uttered all in one breath

"Ihave long had my doubts that you blew the flame betwixt Gerard andyour fatherand set that old rogueGhysbrechton. And nowhereare Gerard's own written words to prove it. You have driven your ownflesh and blood into a far landand robbed the mother that bore youof her darlingthe pride of her eyethe joy of her heart. But youare all of a piece from end to end. When you were all boys togethermy others were a comfort; but you were a curse: mischievous and sly;and took a woman half a day to keep your clothes whole: for why? workwears clothbut play cuts it. With the beard comes prudence; butnone came to you: still the last to go to bedand the last to leaveit; and why? because honesty goes to bed earlyand industry risesbetimes; where there are two lie-a-beds in a house there are a pairof ne'er-do-weels. Often I've sat and looked at your waysandwondered where ye came from: ye don't take after your fatherand yeare no more like me than a wasp is to an ant; sure ye were changed inthe cradleor the cuckoo dropped ye on my floor: for ye have not ourhandsnor our hearts: of all my bloodnone but you ever jeered themthat God afflicted; but often when my back was turned I've heard youmock at Gilesbecause he is not as big as some; and at my lily Katebecause she is not so strong as a Flanders mare. After that rob achurch an you will! for you can be no worse in His eyes that madeboth Kate and Gilesand in mine that suffered for thempoordarlingsas I did for youyou paltryunfeelingtreasonable curs!NoI will not hushmy daughterthey have filled the cup too full.It takes a deal to turn a mother's heart against the sons she hasnursed upon her knees; and many is the time I have winked andwouldn't see too muchand bitten my tonguelest their father shouldknow them as I do; he would have put them to the door that moment.But now they have filled the cup too full. And where got ye all thismoney? For this last month you have been rolling in it. You neverwrought for it. I wish I may never hear from other mouths how ye gotit. It is since that night you were out so lateand your head cameback so swelledCornelis. Sloth and greed are ill-matedmy masters.Lovers of money must sweat or steal. Wellif you robbed any poorsoul of itit was some womanI'll go bail; for a man would driveyou with his naked hand. No matterit is good for one thing. It hasshown me how you will guide our gear if ever it comes to be yourn. Ihave watched youmy ladsthis while. You have spent a groat to-daybetween you. And I spend scarce a groat a weekand keep you allgood and bad. No I give up waiting for the shoes that will maybe walkbehind your coffin; for this shop and this house shall never beyourn. Gerard is our heir; poor Gerardwhom you have banished anddone your best to kill; after that never call me mother again! Butyou have made him tenfold dearer to me. My poor lost boy! I shallsoon see him again shall hold him in my armsand set him on myknees. Ayyou may stare! You are too craftyand yet not craftyenow. You cut the stalk away; but you left the seed - the seed thatshall outgrow youand outlive you. Margaret Brandt is quickand itis Gerard'sand what is Gerard's is mine; and I have prayed thesaints it may be a boy; and it will - it must. Katewhen I found itwas somy bowels yearned over her child unborn as if it had been myown. He is our heir. He will outlive us. You will not; for a badheart in a carcass is like the worm in the nutsoon brings the bodyto dust. SoKatetake down Gerard's bib and tucker that are in thedrawer you wot ofand one of these days we will carry them toSevenbergen. We will borrow Peter Buyskens' cartand go comfortGerard's wife under her burden. She is his wife. Who is GhysbrechtVan Swieten? Can he come between a couple and the altarand sunderthose that God and the priest make one? She is my daughterand I amas proud of her as I am of youKatealmost; and as for youkeepout of my way awhilefor you are like the black dog in my eyes.

Cornelisand Sybrandt took the hint and slunk outaching with remorseandimpenitenceand hate. They avoided her eye as much as ever theycould; and for many days she never spoke a wordgoodbadorindifferentto either of them. Liberaverat animum suum.

 

CHAPTERXLVI

Catherinewas a good housewife who seldom left home for a dayand then onething or another always went amiss. She was keenly conscious of thisand watching for a slack tide in things domesticput off her visitto Sevenbergen from day to dayand one afternoon that it reallycould have been managedPeter Buyskens' mule was out of the way.

Atlastone day Eli asked her before all the familywhether it wastrue she had thought of visiting Margaret Brandt.

"Aymy man."

"ThenI do forbid you."

"Ohdo you?"

"Ido."

"Thenthere is no more to be saidI suppose" said shecolouring.

"Nota word" replied Eli sternly.

Whenshe was alone with her daughter she was very severenot upon Elibut upon herself.

"Behovedme rather go thither like a cat at a robin. But this was me all over.I am like a silly hen that can lay no egg without cacklingandconvening all the house to rob her on't. Next time you and I areafter aught the least amisslet's do't in Heaven's name then andthereand not take time to think about itfar less talk; so thenif they take us to task we can sayalack we knew nought; we thoughtno ill; nowwho'd ever? and so forth. For two pins I'd go thither inall their teeth."

Defianceso wild and picturesque staggered Kate. "Naymotherwithpatience father will come round."

"Andso will Michaelmas; but when? and I was so bent on you seeing thegirl. Then we could have put our heads together about her. Say whatthey willthere is no judging body or beast but by the eye. And wereI to have fifty more sons I'd ne'er thwart one of them's fancytillsuch time as I had clapped my eyes upon her and seen Quicksands; sayyouI should have thought of that before condemning Gerard hisfancy; but therelife is a schooland the lesson ne'er done; we putdown one fault and take up t'otherand so go blundering hereandblundering theretill we blunder into our gravesand there's an endof us."

"Mother"said Kate timidly.

"Wellwhat is a-coming now? no good news thoughby the look of you. Whaton earth can make the poor wretch so scared?"

"Anavowal she hath to make" faltered Kate faintly.

"Nowthere is a noble word for ye" said Catherine proudly. "OurGerard taught thee thatI'll go bail. Come thenout with thyvowel."

"Wellthensooth to sayI have seen her."

"And?"

"Andspoken with her to boot."

"Andnever told me? After this marvels are dirt."

"Motheryou were so hot against her. I waited till I could tell you withoutangering you worse."

"Ay"said Catherinehalf sadlyhalf bitterly"like motherlikedaughter; cowardice it is our bane. The others I whiles buffetorhow would the house fare? but did youKateever have harsh word orlook from your poor motherthat you- NayI will not have ye crygirl; ten to one ye had your reason; so rise upbrave heartandtell me allbetter late than ne'er; and first and foremost wheneverand how everwend you to Sevenbergen wi' your poor crutchesand I not know?"

"Inever was there in my life; andmammy dearto say that I ne'erwished to see her that I will notbut I ne'er went nor sought to seeher."

"Therenow" said Catherine disputatively"said I not 'twas allunlike my girl to seek her unbeknown to me? Come nowfor I'm allagog.

"Thenthus 'twas. It came to my earsno matter howand pritheegoodmotheron my knees ne'er ask me howthat Gerard was a prisoner inthe Stadthouse tower."

"Ah"

"Byfather's behest as 'twas pretended."

Catherineuttered a sigh that was almost a moan. "Blacker than I thought"she muttered faintly.

"Gilesand I went out at night to bid him be of good cheer. And there at thetower foot was a brave lassquite strange to me I vowon the sameerrand."

"Lookeethere nowKate."

"Atfirst we did properly frighten one anotherthrough the place his badnameand our poor heads being so full o' divelsand we whitened abit in moonshine. But next momentquo' I'You are Margaret.' 'Andyou are Kate' quo' she. Think on't!"

"Didone ever? 'Twas Gerard! He will have been talking backards andforrards of thee to herand her to thee."

Inreturn for thisKate bestowed on Catherine one of the prettiestpresents in nature - the composite kissi.e.she imprinted on hercheek a single kisswhich said -
1. Quite correct.
2. Goodclever motherfor guessing so right and quick.
3. How sweet forus twain to be' of one mind again after
never having beenotherwise.
4. Etc.

"Nowthenspeak thy mindchildGerard is not here. Alaswhat am Isaying? would to Heaven he were."

"Wellthenmothershe is comelyand wrongs her picture but little."

"Ehdear; hark to young folk! I am for good actsnot good looks. Lovesshe my boy as he did ought to be loved?"

"Sevenbergenis farther from the Stadthouse than we are" said Katethoughtfully; "yet she was there afore me."

Catherinenodded intelligence.

"Naymoreshe had got him out ere I came. Aydown from the captive'stower."

Catherineshook her head incredulously. "The highest tower for miles! Itis not feasible."

"'Tissooth though. She and an old man she brought found means and wit tosend him up a rope. There 'twas dangling from his prison. and ourGiles went up it. When first I saw it hangI said'This isglamour.' But when the frank lass's arms came round meand herbosom' did beat on mineand her cheeks wetthen said I''Tis notglamour: 'tis love.' For she is not like mebut lusty and able; anddear hearteven Ipoor frail creaturedo feel sometimes as I couldmove the world for them I love: I love youmother. And she lovesGerard."

"Godbless her for't! God bless her!"

"But

"Butwhatlamb?"

"Herloveis it for very certain honest? 'Tis most strange; but that verythingwhich hath warmed your hearthath somewhat cooled minetowards her; poor soul. She is no wifeyou knowmotherwhen all isdone."

"Humph!They have stood at the altar together."

"Aybut they went as they camemaid and bachelor."

"Theparsonsaith he so?"

"Nayfor that I know not."

"ThenI'll take no man's word but his in such a tangled skein." Aftersome reflection she added"Natheless art rightgirl; I'll toSevenbergen alone. A wife I am but not a slave. We are all in thedark here. And she holds the clue. I must question herand no oneby; least of all you. I'll not take anylily to a house Wi' a spotnonot to a palace o' gold and silver.

Themore Catherine pondered this conversationthe more she felt drawntowards Margaretand moreover "she was all agog" withcuriositya potent passion with us alland nearly omnipotent withthose who like Catherinedo not slake it with reading. At lastonefine dayafter dinnershe whispered to Kate"Keep the housefrom going to piecesan ye can;" and donned her best kirtle andhoodand her scarlet clocked hose and her new shoesand trudgedbriskly off to Sevenbergentroubling no man's mule.

Whenshe got there she inquired where Margaret Brandt lived. The firstperson she asked shook his headand said - "The name is strangeto me." She went a little farther and asked a girl of aboutfifteen who was standing at a door. "Father" said thegirlspeaking into the house"here is another after thatmagician's daughter." The man came out and told Catherine PeterBrandt's cottage was just outside the town on the east side. "Youmay see the chimney hence;" and he pointed it out to her. "Butyou will not find them thereneither father nor daughter; they haveleft the town this weekbless you."

"Saynot sogood manand me walken all the way from Tergou."

"FromTergou? then you must ha' met the soldier."

"Whatsoldier? ayI did meet a soldier."

"Wellthenyon soldier was here seeking that self-same Margaret."

"Ayand warn't a mad with us because she was gone?" put in the girl."His long beard and her cheek are no strangersI warrant."

"Sayno more than ye know" said Catherine sharply. "You areyoung to take to slandering your elders. Stay! tell we more aboutthis soldiergood man.

"NayI know no more than that he came hither seeking Margaret BrandtandI told him she and her father had made a moonlight flit on't this daysennightand that some thought the devil had flown away with thembeing magicians. 'And' says he'the devil fly away with thee forthy ill news;' that was my thanks. 'But I doubt 'tis a lie' said he.'An you think so' said I'go and see.' 'I will' said heand burstout wi' a hantle o' gibberish: my wife thinks 'twas curses; and hiedhim to the cottage. Presently back a comesand sings t'other tune.'You were right and I was wrong' says heand shoves a silver coinin my hand. Show it the wifesome of ye; then she'll believe me; Ihave been called a liar once to-day."

"Itneeds not" said Catherineinspecting the coin all the same.

"Andhe seemed quiet and sad likedidn't he nowwench?"

"Thata did" said the young woman warmly; "anddamehe wasjust as pretty a man as ever I clapped eyes on. Cheeks like a roseand shining beardand eyes in his head like sloes."

"Isaw he was well bearded" said Catherine; "butfor therestat my age I scan them not as when I was young and foolish. Buthe seemed right civil: doffed his bonnet to me as I had been a queenand I did drop him my best reverencefor manners beget manners. Butlittle I wist he had been her light o' loveand most likely the--Who bakes for this town?"

Themannot being acquainted with heropened his eyes at thistransitionswift and smooth.

"Welldamethere be two; John Bush and Eric Donaldsonthey both bide inthis street."

"ThenGod be with yougood people" said sheand proceeded; but hersprightly foot came flat on the ground nowand no longer struck itwith little jerks and cocking heel. She asked the bakers whetherPeter Brandt had gone away in their debt. Bush said they were notcustomers. Donaldson said"Not a stiver: his daughter had comeround and paid him the very night they went. Didn't believe they oweda copper in the town." So Catherine got all the information ofthat kind she wanted with very little trouble.

"Canyou tell me what sort this Margaret was?" said sheas sheturned to go.

"Wellsomewhat too reserved for my taste. I like a chatty customer - whenI'm not too busy. But she bore a high character for being a gooddaughter."

"'Tisno small praise. A well-looking lassI am told?"

"Whywhence come youwyfe?"

"FromTergou."

"Ohay. Well you shall judge: the lads clept her 'the beauty ofSevenbergen;' the lasses did scout it merrilyand terribly pulledher to piecesand found so many faults no two could agree where thefault lay."

"Thatis enough" said Catherine. "I seethe bakers are no foolsin Sevenbergenand the young women no shallower than in otherburghs."

Shebought a manchet of breadpartly out of sympathy and justice (shekept a shop)partly to show her household how much better bread shegave them daily; and returned to Tergou dejected.

Katemet her outside the town with beaming eyes.

"WellKatelassit is a happy thing I went; I am heartbroken. Gerard hasbeen sore abused. The child is none of ournnor the mother from thishour."

"AlasmotherI fathom not your meaning."

"Askme no moregirlbut never mention her name to me again. That isall."

Kateacquiesced with a humble sighand they went home together.

Theyfound a soldier seated tranquilly by their fire. The moment theyentered the door he roseand saluted them civilly. They stood andlooked at him; Kate with some little surprisebut Catherine with agreat dealand with rising indignation.

"Whatmakes you here?" was Catherine's greeting.

"Icame to seek after Margaret."

"Wellwe know no such person."

"Saynot sodame; sure you know her by nameMargaret Brandt."

"Wehave heard of her for that matter - to our cost."

"Comesdameprithee tell me at least where she bides."

"Iknow not where she bidesand care not."

Denysfelt sure this was a deliberate untruth. He bit his lip. "WellI looked to find myself in an enemy's country at this Tergou; butmaybe if ye knew all ye would not be so dour."

"Ido know all" replied Catherine bitterly. "This morn I knewnought." Then suddenly setting her arms akimbo she told him witha raised voice and flashing eyes she wondered at his cheek sittingdown by that hearth of all hearths in the world.

"MaySatan fly away with your hearth to the lake of fire and brimstone"shouted Denyswho could speak Flemish fluently. "Your ownservant bade me sit there till you cameelse I had ne'er troubledyour hearth. My malison on itand on the churlish roof-tree thatgreets an unoffending stranger this way" and he strode scowlingto the door.

"Oh!oh!" ejaculated Catherinefrightenedand also a littleconscience-stricken; and the virago sat suddenly down and burst intotears. Her daughter followed suit quietlybut without loss of time.

Ashrewd writernow unhappily lost to ushas somewhere the followingdialogue

She."I feel all a woman's weakness."

He."Then you are invincible."

Denysby anticipationconfirmed that valuable statement; he stood at thedoor looking ruefully at the havoc his thunderbolt of eloquence hadmade.

"Naywife" said he"weep not neither for a soldier's hastyword. I mean not all I said. Whyyour house is your ownand whatright in it have I? There nowI'll go."

"Whatis to do?" said a grave manly voice.

Itwas Eli; he had come in from the shop.

"Hereis a ruffian been a-scolding of your women folk and making them cry"explained Denys.

"LittleKatewhat is't? for ruffians do not use to call themselvesruffians" said Eli the sensible.

Ereshe could explain"Hold your tonguegirl" saidCatherine; "Muriel bade him sat downand I knew not thatandwyted on him; and he was going and leaving his malison on usrootand branch. I was never so becursed in all my daysoh! oh! oh!"

"Youwere both somewhat to blame; both you and he" said Eli calmly."Howeverwhat the servant says the master should still standto. We keep not open housebut yet we are not poor enough to grudgea seat at our hearth in a cold day to a wayfarer with an honest faceandas I thinka wounded man. Soend all maliceand sit ye down!"

"Wounded?"cried mother and daughter in a breath.

"Thinkyou a soldier slings his arm for sport?"

"Nay'tis but an arrow" said Denys cheerfully.

"Butan arrow?" said Katewith concentrated horror. "Where wereour eyesmother?"

"Nayin good sootha trifle. WhichhoweverI will pray mesdames toaccept as an excuse for my vivacity. 'Tis these little foolishtrifling wounds that fret a manworthy sir. Whylook ye nowsweeter temper than our Gerard never breathedyetwhen the bear didbut strike a piece no bigger than a crown out of his calfhe turnedso hot and choleric y'had said he was no son of yoursbut got by thegood knight Sir John Pepper on his wife dame Mustard; who is this? adwarf? your servantMaster Giles."

"Yourservantsoldier" roared the newcomer. Denys started. He hadnot counted on exchanging greetings with a petard.

Denys'swords had surprised his hostsbut hardly more than their deportmentnow did him. They all three came creeping up to where he satandlooked down into him with their lips partedas if he had been somestrange phenomenon.

Andgrowing agitation succeeded to amazement.

"Nowhush!" said Eli"let none speak but I. Young man"said he solemnly"in God's name who are youthat know usthough we know you notand that shake our hearts speaking to us of -the absent-our poor rebellious son: whom Heaven forgive and bless?"

"Whatmaster" said Denyslowering his voice"hath he not writto you? hath he not told you of meDenys of Burgundy?"

"Hehath writbut three linesand named not Denys of Burgundynor anystranger."

"AyI mind the long letter was to his sweetheartthis Margaretand shehas decampedplague take herand how I am to find her Heavenknows."

"Whatshe is not your sweetheart then?"

"Whodame? an't please you."

"WhyMargaret Brandt."

"Howcan my comrade's sweetheart be mine? I know her not from Noah'sniece; how should I? I never saw her."

"Whistwith this idle chatKate" said Eli impatiently"and letthe young man answer me. How came you to know Gerardour son?Prithee now think on a parent's caresand answer me straightforwardlike a soldier as thou art."

"Andshall. I was paid off at Flushingand started for Burgundy. On theGerman frontier I lay at the same inn with Gerard. I fancied him. Isaid'Be my comrade.' He was loth at first; consented presently.Many a weary league we trode together. Never were truer comrades:never will be while earth shall last. First I left my route a bit tobe with him: then he his to be with me. We talked of Sevenbergen andTergou a thousand times; and of all in this house. We had ourtroubles on the road; but battling them together made them light. Isaved his life from a bear; he mine in the Rhine: for he swims like aduck and I like a hod o' bricks and one another's lives at an inn inBurgundywhere we two held a room for a good hour against sevencut-throatsand crippled one and slew two; and your son did hisdevoir like a manand met the stoutest champion I ever counteredand spitted him like a sucking-pig. Else I had not been here. Butjust when all was fairand I was to see him safe aboard ship forRomeif not to Rome itselfmet us that son of a - the Lord Anthonyof Burgundyand his menmaking for Flandersthen in insurrectiontore us by force aparttook me where I got some broad pieces inhandand a broad arrow in my shoulderand left my poor Gerardlonesome. At that sad parting. soldier though I bethese eyes didrain salt scalding tearsand so did hispoor soul. His last word tome was'Gocomfort Margaret!' so here I be. Mine to him was'Thinkno more of Rome. Make for Rhineand down stream home.' Now sayforyou know bestdid I advise him well or ill?"

"Soldiertake my hand" said Eli. "God bless thee! God bless thee!"and his lip quivered. It was all his replybut more eloquent thanmany words.

Catherinedid not answer at allbut she darted from the room and bade Murielbring the best that was in the houseand returned with wood in botharmsand heaped the fireand took out a snow-white cloth from thepressand was going in a great hurry to lay it for Gerard's friendwhen suddenly she sat down and all the power ebbed rapidly out of herbody.

"Father!"cried Katewhose eye was as quick as her affection.

Denysstarted up; but Eli waved him back and flung a little water sharplyin his wife's face. This did her instant good. She gasped"Sosudden. My poor boy!" Eli whispered Denys"Take no notice!she thinks of him night and day." They pretended not to observeherand she shook it offand hustled and laid the cloth with herown hands; but as she smoothed ither hands trembled and a tear ortwo stole down her cheeks.

Theycould not make enough of Denys. They stuffed himand crammed him;and then gathered round him and kept filling his glass in turnwhileby that genial blaze of fire and ruby wine and eager eyes he told allthat I have relatedand a vast number of minor detailswhich anartisthowever minuteomits.

Buthow different the effect on my readers and on this small circle! Tothem the interest was already made before the first word came fromhis lips. It was all about Gerardand be who sat there telling itthemwas warm from Gerard and an actor with him in all these scenes.

Theflesh and blood around that fire quivered for their severed memberhearing its struggles and perils.

Ishall ask my readers to recall to memory all they can of Gerard'sjourney with Denysand in their mind's eye to see those very matterstold by his comrade to an exile's fatherall stoic outsideallfather withinand to two poor womenan exile's mother and a sisterwho were all love and pity and tender anxiety both outside and in.Now would you mind closing this book for a minute and making aneffort to realize all this? It will save us so much repetition.

Thenyou will not be surprised when I tell you that after a while Gilescame softly and curled himself up before the fireand lay gazing atthe speaker with a reverence almost canine; and thatwhen the roughsoldier had unconsciously but thoroughly betrayed his betterqualitiesand above all his rare affection for GerardKatethoughtimorous as a birdstole her little hand into the warrior's hugebrown palmwhere it lay an instant like a tea-spoonful of creamspilt on a platterthen nipped the ball of his thumb and served fora Kardiometer. In other wordsFate is just even to rivalstorytellersand balances matters. Denys had to pay a tax to hisaudience which I have not. Whenever Gerard was in too much dangerthe female faces became so whiteand their poor little throatsgurgled sohe was obliged in common humanity to spoil his recital.Suspense is the soul of narrativeand thus dealt Rough-and-Tender ofBurgundy with his best suspenses. "Nowdametake not on tillye hear the end; ma'amsellelet not your cheek blanch so; courage!it looks ugly; but you shall hear how we won through. Had hemiscarriedand I at handwould I be alive?"

Andmeantime Kate's little Kardiometeror heart-measurergraduatedemotionand pinched by scale. At its best it was by no means ahigh-pressure engine. But all is relative. Denys soon learned thetender gamut; and when to water the suspenseand extract the thrillas far as possible. On one occasion only he cannily indemnified hisnarrative for this drawback. Falling personally into the Rhineandsinkinghe got pinchedhe Denysto his surprise and satisfaction."Oho!" thought heand on the principle of the anatomists"experimentum in corpore vili" kept himself a quarter ofan hour under water; under pressure all the time. And even whenGerard had got hold of himhe was loth to leave the riversolessconscientious than I wasswam with Gerard to the east bank firstand was about to landbut detected the officers and their intentchaffed them a little spacetreading waterthen turned and swamwearily all acrossand at last was obliged to get outfor veryshameor else acknowledge himself a pike; so permitted himself tolandexhausted: and the pressure relaxed.

Itwas eleven o'clockan unheard-of hourbut they took no note of timethis night; and Denys had still much to tell themwhen the door wasopened quietlyand in stole Cornelis and Sybrandt looking hang-dog.They had this night been drinking the very last drop of theirmysterious funds.

Catherinefeared her husband would rebuke them before Denys; but he only lookedsadly at themand motioned them to sit down quietly.

Denysit was who seemed discomposed. He knitted his brows and eyed themthoughtfully and rather gloomily. Then turned to Catherine. "Whatsay youdame? the rest to-morrow; for I am somewhat wearyand itwaxes late."

"Sobe it" said Eli. But when Denys rose to go to his innhe wasinstantly stopped by Catherine. "And think you to lie from thishouse? Gerard's room has been got ready for you hours agone; thesheets I'll not say much forseeing I spun the flax and wove theweb."

"Thenwould I lie in them blindfold" was the gallant reply. "Ahdameour poor Gerard was the one for fine linen. He could hardlyforgive the honest Germans their coarse flaxand whene'er mytraitors of countrymen did amissa would excuse themsaying'Wellwell; bonnes toiles sont en Bourgogne:' that meansthere be goodlenten cloths in Burgundy.' But indeed he beat all for bywords andcleanliness.

"OhEli! Eli! doth not our son come back to us at each word?"

"Ay.Buss memy poor Kate. You and I know all that passeth in eachother's hearts this night. None other canbut God."

 

CHAPTERXLVII

Denystook an opportunity next day and told mother and daughter the restexcusing himself characteristically for not letting Cornelis andSybrandt hear of it. "It is not for me to blacken them; theycome of a good stock. But Gerard looks on them as no friends of hisin this matter; and I'm Gerard's comrade and it is a rule with ussoldiers not to tell the enemy aught - but lies."

Catherinesighedbut made no answer.

Theadventures he related cost them a tumult of agitation and griefandsore they wept at the parting of the friendswhich even now Denyscould not tell without faltering. But at last all merged in thejoyful hope and expectation of Gerard's speedy return. In this Denysconfidently shared; but reminded them that was no reason why heshould neglect his friend's wishes and last words. In factshouldGerard return next weekand no Margaret to be foundwhat sort offigure should he cut?

Catherinehad never felt so kindly towards the truant Margaret as now; and shewas fully as anxious to find herand be kind to her before Gerard'sreturnas Denys was; but she could not agree with him that anythingwas to be gained by leaving this neighbourhood to search for her."She must have told somebody whither she was going. It is not asthough they were dishonest folk flying the country; they owe not astiver in Sevenbergen; and dear heartDenysyou can't hunt allHolland for her."

"CanI not?" said Denys grimly. "That we shall see." Headdedafter some reflectionthat they must divide their forces; shestay here with eyes and ears wide openand he ransack every town inHolland for herif need be. "But she will not be many leaguesfrom here. They be three. Three fly not so fastnor faras one."

"Thatis sense" said Catherine. But she insisted on his going firstto the demoiselle Van Eyck. "She and our Margaret were bosomfriends. She knows where the girl is goneif she will but tell us."Denys was for going to her that instantso Catherinein a turn ofthe handmade herself one shade neaterand took him with her.

Shewas received graciously by the old lady sitting in a richly furnishedroom; and opened her business. The tapestry dropped out of MargaretVan Eyck's hands. "Gone? Gone from Sevenbergen and not told me;the thankless girl."

Thisturn greatly surprised the visitors. "Whatyou know not? whenwas she here last?"

"Maybeten days agone. I had ta'en out my brushesafter so many yearstopaint her portrait. I did not do itthough; for reasons."

Catherineremarked it was "a most strange thing she should go away bag andbaggage like thiswithout with your leave or by your leavewhyorwherefore. Was ever aught so untoward; just when all our hearts arewarm to her; and here is Gerard's mate come from the ends of theearth with comfort for her from Gerardand can't find herandGerard himself expected. What to do I know not. But sure she is notparted like this without a reason. Can ye not give us the cluemygood demoiselle? Prithee now.

"Ihave it not to give" said the elder ladyrather peevishly.

"ThenI can" said Reicht Heynesshowing herself in the doorwaywithcolour somewhat heightened.

"Soyou have been hearkening all the timeeh?"

"Whatare my ears formistress?"

"True.Wellthrow us the light of thy wisdom on this dark matter."

"Thereis no darkness that I see" said Reicht. "And the cluewhyan ye call't a two-plye twineand the ends on't in this roome'en nowye'll not be far out. OhmistressI wonder at you sittingthere pretending."

"Marrycome up." and the mistress's cheek was now nearly as red as theservant's. "So 'twas I drove the foolish girl away."

"Youdid your sharemistress. What sort of greeting gave you her lasttime she came? Think you she could miss to notice itand she allfriendless? And you said'I have altered my mind about painting ofyou' says youa turning up your nose at her."

"Idid not turn up my nose. It is not shaped like yours for lookingheavenward."

"Ohall our nosen can follow our heartys bentfor that matter. Poorsoul. She did come into the kitchen to me. 'I am not to be paintednow' said sheand the tears in her eyes. She said no more. But Iknew well what she did mean. I had seen ye."

"Well"said Margaret Van Eyck"I do confess so muchand I make youthe judgemadam. Know that these young girls can do nothing of theirown headsbut are most apt at mimicking aught their sweethearts do.Now your Gerard is reasonably handy at many thingsand among therest at the illuminator's craft. And Margaret she is his pupiland apatient one: what marvel? having a woman's eye for colourand eke alover to ape. 'Tis a trick I despise at heart: for by it the greatart of colourwhich should be royalaspiringand freebecomes apoor slave to the petty crafts of writing and printingand isfetteredimprisonedand made littlebody and soulto match thelittleness of booksand go to church in a rich fool's pocket.Natheless affection rules us alland when the poor wench would bringme her thorn leavesand liliesand ivyand dewberriesandladybirdsand butterfly grubsand all the scum of Nature-stuck fastin gold-leaf like wasps in a honey-potand withal her diurnal bookshowing she had pored an hundredor an hundred and fiftyor twohundred hours over each singular pagecertes I was wroth that animmortal souland many hours of labourand much manual skillshould be flung away on Nature's trashleavesinsectsgrubsandon barren letters; buthaving bowelsI did perforce restrainandas it weredam my better feelingsand looked kindly at the work tosee how it might be bettered; and said I'Sith Heaven for our sinshath doomed us to spend timeand souland colour on great lettersand little beetlesomitting such small fry as saints and heroestheir acts and passionswhy not present the scum naturally?' I toldher 'the grapes I sawwalking abroaddid hang i' the airnot stickin a wall; and even these insects' quo' I'and Nature her slime ingeneralpass not their noxious lives wedged miserably in metalprisons like flies in honey-pots and glue-potsbut do crawl or hoverat largeinfesting air.' 'Ah my dear friend' says she'I see nowwhither you drive; but this ground is gold; whereon we may notshade.' 'Who said so?' quoth I. 'All teachers of this craft' saysshe; and (to make an end o' me at onceI trow) 'Gerard himself!''That for Gerard himself' quoth I'and all the gang; gi'e me abrush!'

"Thenchose Ito shade her fruit and reptilesa colour false in naturebut true relatively to that monstrous ground of glaring gold; and infive minutes out came a bunch of raspberriesstalk and allanda'most flew in your mouth; likewise a butterfly grub she had so trulypresented as might turn the stoutest stomach. My lady she flings herarms round my neckand says she'Oh!'"

"Didshe now?"

"Thelittle love!" observed Denyssucceeding at last in wedging in aword.

MargaretVan Eyck stared at him; and then smiled. She went on to tell them howfrom step to step she had been led on to promise to resume the artshe had laid aside with a sigh when her brothers diedand to paintthe Madonna once more - with Margaret for model. Incidentally sheeven revealed how girls are turned into saints. "Thy hair isadorable" said I. "Why'tis red" quo' she. "Ay"quoth I"but what a red! how brown! how glossy! most hair isnot worth a straw to us painters; thine the artist's very hue. Butthy violet eyeswhich smack of earthbeing now languid for lack ofone Gerardnow full of fire in hopes of the same Gerardthese willI lift to heaven in fixed and holy meditationand thy nosewhichdoth already somewhat aspire that way (though not so piously asReicht's)will I debase a trifleand somewhat enfeeble thy chin."

"Enfeebleher chin? Alack! what may that mean? Ye go beyond memistress."

'Tisa resolute chin. Not a jot too resolute for this wicked world; butwhen ye come to a Madonna? No thank you."

"WellI never. A resolute chin."

Denys."The darling!"

"Andnow comes the rub. When you told me she was - the way she isit gaveme a shock; I dropped my brushes. Was I going to turn a girlthatcouldn't keep her lover at a distanceinto the Virgin Maryat mytime of life? I love the poor ninny still. But I adore our blessedLady. Say you'a painter must not be peevish in such matters'? Wellmost painters are men; and men are fine fellows. They can do aught.Their saints and virgins are neither more nor less than their lemanssaving your presence. But know that for this very reason half theircraft is lost on mewhich find beneath their angels' white wings thevery trollops I have seen flaunting it on the streetsbejewelledlike Paynim idolsand put on like the queens in a pack o' cards. AndI am not a fine fellowbut only a womanand my painting is but onehalf craftand t'other half devotion. So now you may read me. 'Twasfoolishmaybebut I could not help it; yet am I sorry." Andthe old lady ended despondently a discourse which she had commencedin a'mighty defiant tone.

"Wellyou knowdame" observed Catherine"you must think itwould go to the poor girl's heartand she so fond of ye?"

MargaretVan Eyck only sighed.

TheFrisian girlafter biting her lips impatiently a little whileturned upon Catherine. "Whydamethink you 'twas for thatalone Margaret and Peter hath left Sevenbergen? Nay."

"Forwhat elsethen?"

"Whatelse? Whybecause Gerard's people slight her so cruel. Who wouldbide among hard-hearted folk that ha' driven her lad t' Italyandnow he is gonerelent notbut face it outand ne'er come anigh herthat is left?"

"ReichtI was going."

"Ohaygoingand goingand going. Ye should ha' said less or else donemore. But with your words you did uplift her heart and let it downwi' your deeds. 'They have never been' said the poor thing to mewith such a sigh. Ayhere is one can feel for her: for I too am farfrom my friendsand oftenwhen first I came to HollandI did usedto take a hearty cry all to myself. But ten times liever would I beReicht Heynes with nought but the leagues atw'een me and all my kiththan be as she is i' the midst of them that ought to warm to herandyet to fare as lonesome as I."

"AlackReichtI did go but yestreenand had gone beforebut one plaguything or t'other did still come and hinder me."

"Mistressdid aught hinder ye to eat your dinner any one of those days? I trownot. And had your heart been as good towards your own flesh andbloodas 'twas towards your flesher's meatnought had prevailed tokeep you from her that sat lonelya watching the road for you andcomfortwi' your child's child a beating 'neath her bosom."

Herethis rude young woman was interrupted by an incident not uncommon ina domestic's bright existence. The Van Eyck had been nettled by theattack on herbut with due tact had gone into ambush. She now sprangout of it. "Since you disrespect my guestsseek another place!"

"Withall my heart" said Reicht stoutly.

"Naymistress" put in the good-natured Catherine. "True folkwill still speak out. Her tongue is a stinger." Here the watercame into the speaker's eyes by way of confirmation. "But bettershe said it than thought it. So now 't won't rankle in her. And partwith her for methat shall ye not. Beshrew the wenchshe wots sheis a good servantand takes advantage. We poor wretches which keephouse must still pay 'em tax for value. I had a good servant oncewhen I was a young woman. Eh dearhow she did grind me down into thedust. In the endby Heaven's mercyshe married the bakerand I wasmy own woman again. 'So' said I'no more good servants shall comehithera hectoring o' me.' I just get a fool and learn her; andwhenever she knoweth her right hand from her leftshe sauceth me:then out I bundle her neck and cropand take another dunce in herplace. Dear heart'tis wearisometeaching a string of fools byones; but there - I am mistress:" here she forgot that she wasdefending Reichtand turning rather spitefully upon heradded"andyou be mistress hereI trow."

"Nomore than that stool" said the Van Eyck loftily. "She isneither mistress nor servant; but Gone. She is dismissed the houseand there's an end of her. Whatdid ye not hear me turn the saucybaggage off?"

"Ayay. We all heard ye" said Reichtwith vast indifference.

"Thenhear me!" said Denys solemnly.

Theyall went round like things on wheelsand fastened their eyes on him.

"Aylet us hear what the man says" urged the hostess. "Men arefine fellowswith their great hoarse voices."

"MistressReicht"said Denyswith great dignity and ceremonyindeed sogreat as to verge on the absurd"you are turned off. If on aslight acquaintance I might adviseI'd saysince you are a servantno morebe a mistressa queen.

"Easiersaid than done" replied Reicht bluntly.

"Nota jot. You see here one who is a manthough but half anarbalestrierowing to that devilish Englishman's arrowin whosecarcass I havehoweverleft a like tokenwhich is a comfort. Ihave twenty gold pieces" (he showed them) "and a stout arm.In another week or so I shall have twain. Marriage is not a habit ofmine; but I capitulate to so many virtues. You are beautifulgood-heartedand outspokenand above allyou take the part of myshe-comrade. Be then an arbalestriesse!"

"Andwhat the dickens is that?" inquired Reicht.

"Imeanbe the wifemistressand queen of Denys of Burgundy herepresent."

Adead silence fell on all.

Itdid not last longthough; and was followed by a burst ofunreasonable indignation.

Catherine.". "Welldid you ever?"

Margaret."Never in all my born days."

Catherine."Before our very faces."

Margaret."Of all the absurdityand insolence of this ridiculous sex-

ThenDenys observed somewhat drilythat the female to whom he adaddressed himself was mute; and the otherson whose eloquence therewas no immediate demandwere fluent: on this the voices stoppedandthe eyes turned pivot-like upon Reicht.

Shetook a sly glance from under her lashes at her military assailantand said"I mean to take a good look at any man ere I leap intohis arms."

Denysdrew himself up majestically. "Then look your filland leapaway."

Thisproposal led to a new and most unexpected result. A long white fingerwas extended by the Van Eyck in a line with the speaker's eyeand anagitated voice bade him standin the name of all the saints. "Youare beautifulso" cried she. "You are inspired - withfolly. What matters that? you are inspired. I must take off yourhead." And in a moment she was at work with her pencil. "Comeouthussy" she screamed to Reicht. "more in front of himand keep the fool inspired and beautiful. Ohwhy had I not thismaniac for my good centurion? They went and brought me a brute with alow forehead and a shapeless beard."

Catherinestood and looked with utter amazement at this pantomimeand secretlyresolved that her venerable hostess had been a disguised lunatic allthis timeand was now busy throwing off the mask. As for Reichtshewas unhappy and cross. She had left her caldron in a precariousstateand made no scruple to say soand that duties so grave ashers left her no "time to waste a playing the statee and thefool all at one time." Her mistress in reply reminded her thatit was possible to be rude and rebellious to one's pooroldaffectionatedesolate mistresswithout being utterly heartless andsavage; and a trampler on arts.

Onthis Reicht stoppedand poutedand looked like a little basilisk atthe inspired model who caused her woe. He retorted with unshakenadmiration. The situation was at last dissolved by the artist's wristbecoming cramped from disuse; this was nothoweveruntil she hadmade a rough but noble sketch. "I can work no more at present"said she sorrowfully.

"ThennowmistressI may go and mind my pot?"

"Ayaygo to your pot! And get into itdo; you will find your soul init: so then you will all be together."

"WellbutReicht" said Catherinelaughing"she turned youoff."

"Boobooboo!" said Reicht contemptuously. "When she wants toget rid of melet her turn herself off and die. I am sure she is oldenough for't. But take your timemistress; if you are in no hurryno more am I. When that day doth come'twill take a man to dry myeyes; and if you should be in the same mind thensoldieryou cansay so; and if you are notwhy'twill be all one to Reicht Heynes."

Andthe plain speaker went her way. But her words did not fall to theground. Neither of her female hearers could disguise from herselfthat this blunt girlsolitary herselfhad probably read MargaretBrandt arightand that she had gone away from Sevenbergenbroken-hearted.

Catherineand Denys bade the Van Eyck adieuand that same afternoon Denys setout on a wild goose chase. His planlike all great thingswassimple. He should go to a hundred towns and villagesand ask in eachafter an old physician with a fair daughterand an old long-bowsoldier. He should inquire of the burgomasters about all new-comersand should go to the fountains and watch the women and girls as theycame with their pitchers for water.

Andaway he wentand was months and months on the trampand could notfind her.

Happilythis chivalrous feat of friendship was in some degree its own reward.

Thosewho sit at home blindfolded by self-conceitand think camel or manout of the depths of their inner consciousnessalias theirignorancewill tell you that in the intervals of war and dangerpeace and tranquil life acquire their true value and satisfy theheroic mind. But those who look before they babble or scribble willsee and say that men who risk their lives habitually thirst forexciting pleasures between the acts of dangerare not for innocenttranquility.

Tothis Denys was no exception. His whole military life had been halfspartahalf Capua. And he was too good a soldier and too good alibertine to have ever mixed either habit with the other. But now forthe first time he found himself mixed; at peace and yet on duty; forhe took this latter view of his wild goose chaseluckily. So allthese months he was a demi-Spartan; soberprudentvigilantindomitable; and happythough constantly disappointedas might havebeen expected. He flirted gigantically on the road; but wasted notime about it. Nor in these his wanderings did he tell a singlefemale that "marriage was not one of his habitsetc."

Andso we leave him on the tramp"Pilgrim of Friendship" ashis poor comrade was of Love.

 

CHAPTERXLVIII

Catherinewas in dismay when she reflected that Gerard must reach home inanother month at farthestmore likely in a week; and how should shetell him she had not even kept an eye upon his betrothed? Then therewas the uncertainty as to the girl's fate; and this uncertaintysometimes took a sickening form.

"OhKate" she groaned"if she should have gone and madeherself away!"

"Mothershe would never be so wicked."

"Ahmy lassyou know not what hasty fools young lasses bethat have nomothers to keep 'em straight. They will fling themselves into thewater for a man that the next man they meet would ha' cured 'em of ina week. I have known 'em to jump in like brass one moment and screamfor help in the next. Couldn't know their own minds ye see even aboutsuch a trifle as yon. And then there's times when their bodies aillike no other living creatures ever I could hear ofand that stringsup their feelings sothe patiencethat belongs to them at othertimes beyond all living souls barring an assseems all to jump outof 'em at one turnand into the water they go. ThereforeI say thatmen are monsters."

"Mother!"

"Monstersand no lessto go making such heaps o' canals just to tempt the poorwomen in. They know we shall not cut our throatshating the sight ofblood and rating our skins a hantle higher nor our lives; and as forhangingwhile she is a fixing of the nail and a making of the nooseshe has time t' alter her mind. But a jump into a canal is no morethan into bed; and the water it does all the lavewill yenill ye.Whylook at methe mother o' ninewasn't I agog to make a hole inour canal for the nonce?"

"NaymotherI'll never believe it of you."

"Yemaythough. 'Twas in the first year of our keeping house together.Eli hadn't found out my weak stitches thennor I his; so we made arentpulling contrariwise; had a quarrel. So then I ran cryingtotell some gabbling fool like myself what I had no business to tellout o' doors except to the saintsand there was one of our preciouscanals in the way; do they take us for teal? Ohhow tempting it didlook! Says I to myself'Sith he has let me go out of his doorquarrelledhe shall see me drowned nextand then he will change hiskey. He will blubber a good oneand I shall look down from heaven'(I forgot I should be in t'other part)'and see him take onand ohbut that will be sweet!' and I was all a tiptoe and going inonlyjust then I thought I wouldn't. I had got a new gown a makingforone thingand hard upon finished. So I went home insteadand whatwas Eli's first word'Let yon flea stick i' the wallmy lass' sayshe. 'Not a word of all I said t' anger thee was soothbut this"Ilove thee."' These were his very words; I minded 'embeing thefirst quarrel. So I flung my arms about his neck and sobbed a bitand thought o' the canal; and he was no colder to me than I to himbeing a man and a young one; and so then that was better than lyingin the water; and spoiling my wedding kirtle and my fine new shoonold John Bush made 'emthat was uncle to him keeps the shop now. Andwhat was my grief to hers?"

LittleKate hoped that Margaret loved her father too much to think ofleaving him so at his age. "He is father and mother and all toheryou know."

"NayKatethey do forget all these things in a moment o' despair when thevery sky seems black above them. I place more faith in him that isunbornthan on him that is ripe for the graveto keep her out o'mischief. For certes it do go sore against us to die when there's alittle innocent a pulling at our hearts to let 'un liveand feedingat our very veins."

"Wellthenkeep up a good heartmother." She addedthat very likelyall these fears were exaggerated. She ended by solemnly entreatingher mother at all events not to persist in naming the sex ofMargaret's infant. It was so unluckyall the gossips told her; "dearheartas if there were not as many girls born as boys."

Thisreflectionthough not unreasonablewas met with clamour.

"Haveyou the cruelty to threaten me with a girl!!? I want no more girlswhile I have you. What use would a lass be to me? Can I set her on myknee and see my Gerard again as I can a boy? I tell thee 'tis allsettled.

"Howmay that be?"

"Inmy mind. And if I am to be disappointed i' the end'tisn't for youto disappoint me beforehandtelling me it is not to be a childbutonly a girl."

 

CHAPTERXLIX

MARGARETBRANDT had always held herself apart from Sevenbergen; and herreserve had passed for pride; this had come to her earsand she knewmany hearts were swelling with jealousy and malevolence. How wouldthey triumph over her when her condition could no longer beconcealed! This thought gnawed her night and day. For some time ithad made her bury herself in the houseand shun daylight even onthose rare occasions when she went abroad.

Notthat in her secret heart and conscience she mistook her moralsituationas my unlearned readers have done perhaps. Though notacquainted with the nice distinctions of the contemporary lawsheknew that betrothal was a marriage contractand could no more belegally broken on either side than any other compact written andwitnessed; and that marriage with another party than the betrothedhad been formerly annulled both by Church and State and thatbetrothed couples often came together without any further ceremonyand their children were legitimate.

Butwhat weighed down her simple mediaeval mind was this: that verycontract of betrothal was not forthcoming. Instead of her keeping itGerard had got itand Gerard was farfar away. She hated anddespised herself for the miserable oversight which had placed her atthe mercy of false opinion.

Forthough she had never heard Horace's famous coupletSegnius irritantetc.she was Horatian by the plainhardpositive intelligencewhichstrange to saycharacterizes the judgment of her sexwhenfeeling happens not to blind it altogether. She gauged theunderstanding of the world to a T. Her marriage lines being out ofsightand in Italywould never prevail to balance her visiblepregnancyand the sight of her child when born. What sort of a talewas this to stop slanderous tongues? "I have got my marriagelinesbut I cannot show them you." What woman would believeher? or even pretend to believe her? And as she was in reality one ofthe most modest girls in Hollandit was women's good opinion shewantednot men's.

Evenbarefaced slander attacks her sex at a great advantage; but here wasslander with a face of truth. "The strong-minded woman" hadnot yet been invented; and Margaretthough by nature and by havingbeen early made mistress of a familyshe was resolute in somerespectswas weak as water in othersand weakest of all in this.Like all the elite of her sexshe was a poor little leaftremblingat each gust of the world's opiniontrue or false. Much misery maybe contained in few words. I doubt if pages of description from anyman's pen could make any human creatureexcept virtuous women (andthese need no such aid)realize the anguish of a virtuous womanforeseeing herself paraded as a frail one. Had she been frail atheartshe might have brazened it out. But she had not thatadvantage. She was really pure as snowand saw the pitch comingnearer her and nearer. The poor girl sat listless hours at a timeand moaned with inner anguish. And oftenwhen her father was talkingto herand she giving mechanical repliessuddenly her cheek wouldburn like fireand the old man would wonder what he had said todiscompose her. Nothing. His words were less than air to her. It wasthe ever-present dread sent the colour of shame into her burningcheekno matter what she seemed to be talking and thinking about.But both shame and fear rose to a climax when she came back thatnight from Margaret Van Eyck's. Her condition was discoveredand bypersons of her own sex. The old artistsecluded like herselfmightnot betray her; but Catherinea gossip in the centre of a familyand a thick neighbourhood? One spark of hope remained. Catherine hadspoken kindlyeven lovingly. The situation admitted no half course.Gerard's mother thus roused must either be her best friend or worstenemy. She waited then in racking anxiety to hear more. No word came.She gave up hope. Catherine was not going to be her friend. Then shewould expose hersince she had no strong and kindly feeling tobalance the natural love of babbling.

Thenit was the wish to fly from this neighbourhood began to grow and gnawupon hertill it became a wild and passionate desire. But howpersuade her father to this? Old people cling to places. He was veryold and infirm to change his abode. There was no course but to makehim her confidant; better so than to run away from him; and she feltthat would be the alternative. And now between her uncontrollabledesire to fly and hideand her invincible aversion to speak out to amaneven to her fathershe vibrated in a suspense full of livelytorture. And presently betwixt these two came in one day the fatalthought"end all!" Things foolishly worded are not alwaysfoolish; one of poor Catherine's bugbearsthese numerous canalsdidsorely tempt this poor fluctuating girl. She stood on the bank oneafternoonand eyed the calm deep water. It seemed an image ofreposeand she was so harassed. No more trouble. No more fear ofshame. If Gerard had not loved herI doubt she had ended there.

Asit wasshe kneeled by the water sideand prayed fervently to God tokeep such wicked thoughts from her. "Oh! selfish wretch"said she"to leave thy father. Ohwicked wretchto kill thychildand make thy poor Gerard lose all his pain and perilundertaken for thy sight. I will tell father allayere this sunshall set." And she went home with eager hastelest her goodresolution should ooze out ere she got there.

Nowin matters domestic the learned Peter was simple as a childandMargaretfrom the age of sixteenhad governed the house gently butabsolutely. It was therefore a strange thing in this housethefalteringirresolute way in which its young but despotic mistressaddressed that personwho in a domestic sense was less importantthan Martin Wittenhaagenor even than the little girl who came inthe morning and for a pittance washed the vesselsetc.and wenthome at night.

"FatherI would speak to thee."

"Speakongirl."

"Wiltlisten to me? And - and - not - and try to excuse my faults?"

"Wehave all our faultsMargaretthou no more than the rest of us; butfewerunless parental feeling blinds me."

"Alasnofather: I am a poor foolish girlthat would fain do wellbuthave done illmost illmost unwisely; and now must bear the shame.ButfatherI love youwith all my faultsand will not you forgivemy follyand still love your motherless girl?"

"Thatye may count on" said Peter cheerfully.

"Ohwellsmile not. For then how can I speak and make you sad?"

"Whywhat is the matter?"

"Fatherdisgrace is coming on this house: it is at the door. And I theculprit. Ohfatherturn your head away. I - I - fatherI have letGerard take away my marriage lines."

"Isthat all? 'Twas an oversight."

"'Twasthe deed of a mad woman. But woe is me! that is not the worst."

Peterinterrupted her. "The youth is honestand loves you dear. Youare young. What is a year or two to you? Gerard will assuredly comeback and keep troth."

"Andmeantime know you what is coming?"

"NotIexcept that I shall be gone first for one."

"Worsethan that. There is worse pain than death. Nayfor pity's sake turnaway your headfather."

"Foolishwench!" muttered Peterbut turned his head.

Shetrembled violentlyand with her cheeks on fire began to falter out"I did look on Gerard as my husband - we being betrothed-and hewas in so sore dangerand I thought I had killed himand I-ohifyou were but my mother I might find courage: you would question me.But you say not a word."

"WhyMargaretwhat is all this coil about? and why are thy cheekscrimsonspeaking to no stranger'but to thy old father?"

"Whyare my cheeks on fire? Because - because - father kill me; send me toheaven! bid Martin shoot me with his arrow! And then the gossips willcome and tell you why I blush so this day. And thenwhen I am deadI hope you will love your girl again for her mother's sake."

"Giveme thy handmistress" said Petera little sternly.

Sheput it out to him trembling. He took it gently and began with someanxiety in his face to feel her pulse.

"Alasnay" said she. "'Tis my soul that burnsnot my bodywithfever. I cannotwill notbide in Sevenbergen." And she wrungher hands impatiently.

"Becalm now" said the old man soothingly"nor tormentthyself for nought. Not bide in Sevenbergen? What need to bide a dayas it vexes theeand puts thee in a fever: for fevered thou artdeny it not."

"What!"cried Margaret"would you yield to go henceand - and ask noreason but my longing to be gone?" and suddenly throwing herselfon her knees beside himin a fervour of supplication she clutchedhis sleeveand then his armand then his shoulderwhile imploringhim to quit this placeand not ask her why. "Alas! what needsit? You will soon see it. And I could never say it. I would lieverdie."

"Foolishchildwho seeks thy girlish secrets? Is it Iwhose life hath beenspent in searching Nature's? And for leaving Sevenbergenwhat isthere to keep me in itthee unwilling? Is there respect for me hereor gratitude? Am I not yclept quacksalver by those that come not nearmeand wizard by those I heal? And give they not the guerdon and thehonour they deny me to the empirics that slaughter them? Besideswhat is't to me where we sojourn? Choose thou thatas did thy motherbefore thee."

Margaretembraced him tenderlyand wept upon his shoulder.

Shewas respited.

Yetas she weptrespitedshe almost wished she had had the courage totell him.

Aftera while nothing would content him but her taking a medicament he wentand brought her. She took it submissivelyto please him. It was theleast she could do. It was a composing draughtand thoughadministered under an errorand a common onedid her more good thanharm: she awoke calmed by a long sleepand that very day began herpreparations.

Nextweek they went to Rotterdambag and baggageand lodged above atailor's shop in the Brede-Kirk Straet.

Onlyone person in Tergou knew whither they were gone.

TheBurgomaster.

Helocked the information in his own breast.

Theuse he made of it ere longmy reader will not easily divine: for hedid not divine it himself.

Buttime will show.

 

CHAPTERL

Amongstrangers Margaret Brandt was comparatively happy. And soon a new andunexpected cause of content arose. A civic dignitary being illandfanciful in proportionwent from doctor to doctor; and havingarrived at death's doorsent for Peter. Peter found him bled andpurged to nothing. He flung a battalion of bottles out of windowandleft it open; beat up yolks of eggs in neat Schiedamandadministered it in small doses; followed this up by meat stewed inred wine and watershredding into both mild febrifugal herbsthatdid no harm. Finallyhis patient got about againlooking somethingbetween a man and a pillow-caseand being a voluble dignitaryspread Peter's fame in every street; and that artistwho had longmerited a reputation in vainmade one rapidly by luck. Things lookedbright. The old man's pride was cheered at lastand his purse beganto fill. He spent much of his gainhoweverin sovereign herbs andchoice drugsand would have so invested them allbut Margaretwhite-mailed a part. The victory came too late. Its happy excitementwas fatal.

Oneeveningin bidding her good-nighthis voice seemed ratherinarticulate.

Thenext morning he was found speechlessand only just sensible.

Margaretwho had been for years her father's attentive pupilsaw at once thathe had had a paralytic stroke. But not trusting to herselfshe ranfor a doctor. One of those whoobstructed by Peterhad not killedthe civic dignitarycameand cheerfully confirmed her views. He wasfor bleeding the patient. She declined. "He was always againstblooding" said she"especially the old." Peterlivedbut was never the same man again. His memory became muchaffectedand of course he was not to be trusted to prescribe; andseveral patients had comeand one or twothat were bent on beingcured by the new doctor and no otherawaited his convalescence.Misery stared her in the face. She resolved to go for advice andcomfort to her cousin William Johnsonfrom whom she had hithertokept aloof out of pride and poverty. She found him and his servantsitting in the same roomand neither of them the better for liquor.Mastering all signs of surpriseshe gave her greetingsandpresently told him she had come to talk on a family matterand withthis glanced quietly at the servant by way of hint. The woman tookitbut not as expected.

"Ohyou can speak before mecan she notmy old man?"

Atthis familiarity Margaret turned very redand said -

"Icry you mercymistress. I knew not my cousin had fallen into thecustom of this town. WellI must take a fitter opportunity;"and she rose to go.

"Iwot not what ye mean by custom o' the town" said the womanbouncing up. "But this I know; 'tis the part of a faithfulservant to keep her master from being preyed on by his beggarly kin."

Margaretretorted: "Ye are too modestmistress. Ye are no servant. Yourspeech betrays you. 'Tis not till the ape hath mounted the tree thatsheshows her tail so plain. Naythere sits the servant; God helphim! And while so it isfear not thou his kin will ever be so poorin spirit as come where the likes of you can flout their dole."And casting one look of mute reproach at her cousin for being solittle of a man as to sit passive and silent all this timesheturned and went haughtily out; nor would she shed a single tear tillshe got home and thought of it. And now here were two men to belodged and fed by one pregnant girl; and another mouth coming intothe world.

Butthis lastthough the most helpless of allwas their best friend.

Naturewas strong in Margaret Brandt; that same nature which makes thebrutesthe birdsand the insectsso cunning at providing food andshelter for their progeny yet to come.

Stimulatedby nature she sat and broodedand broodedand thoughtand thoughthow to be beforehand with destitution. Aythough she had still fivegold pieces leftshe saw starvation coming with inevitable foot.

Hersexwhendeviating from customit thinks with male intensitythinks just as much to the purpose as we do. She rosebade Martinmove Peter to another roommade her own very neat and cleanpolished the glass globeand suspended it from the ceilingdustedthe crocodile and nailed him to the outside wall; and after dulyinstructing Martinset him to play the lounging sentinel about thestreet doorand tell the crocodile-bitten that a greatand agedand learned alchymist abode therewho in his moments of recreationwould sometimes amuse himself by curing mortal diseases.

Patientssoon cameand were received by Margaretand demanded to see theleech. "That might not be. He was deep in his studiessearchingfor the grand elixirand not princes could have speech of him. Theymust tell her their symptomsand return in two hours." And oh!mysterious powers! when they did returnthe drug or draught wasalways ready for them. Sometimeswhen it was a worshipful patientshe would carefully scan his faceand feeling both pulse and skinas well as hearing his storywould go softly with it to Peter'sroom; and there think and ask herself how her fatherwhose systemshe had long quietly observedwould have treated the case. Then shewould write an illegible scrawl with a cabalistic letterand bringit down reverentlyand show it the patientand "Could he readthat?" Then it would be either"I am no reader" orwith admiration"Naymistressnought can I make on't."

"Aybut I can. 'Tis sovereign. Look on thyself as cured!" If she hadthe materials by herand she was too good an economist not to favoursomewhat those medicines she had in her own stockshe wouldsometimes let the patient see her compound itoften and anxiouslyconsulting the sacred prescription lest great Science should sufferin her hands. And so she would send them away relieved of cashbutwith their pockets full of medicineand minds full of faithandhumbugged to their hearts' content. Populus vult decipi. And whenthey were goneshe would take down

twolittle boxes Gerard had made her; and on one of these she had writtenTo-dayand on the other To-morrowand put the smaller coins into"To-day" and the larger into "To-morrow" alongwith such of her gold pieces as had survived the journey fromSevenbergenand the expenses of housekeeping in a strange place. andso she met current expensesand laid by for the rainy day she sawcomingand mixed drugs with simplesand vice with virtue. On thislast score her conscience pricked her soreand after each day'scomedyshe knelt down and prayed God to forgive her "for thesake of her child." But lo and beholdcure and cure wasreported to her; so then her conscience began to harden. MartinWittenhaagen had of late been a dead weight on her hands. Like mostmen who had endured great hardshipshe had stiffened rathersuddenly. But though less supplehe was as strong as everand athis own pace could have carried the doctor herself round Rotterdamcity. He carried her slops instead.

Inthis new business he showed the qualities of a soldier: unreasoningobediencepunctualityaccuracydespatchand drunkenness.

Hefell among "good fellows;" the blackguards plied him withSchiedam; he babbledhe bragged.

DoctorMargaret had risen very high in his estimation. All this brandishingof a crocodile for a standardand setting a dotard in ambushandgetting rid of slopsand taking good money in exchangestruck himnot as Science but something far superiorStrategy. And he boastedin his cups and before a mixed company how "me and my General weare a biting of the burghers.

Whenthis revelation had had time to leaven the cityhis GeneralDoctorMargaretreceived a call from the constables; they took hertrembling and begging subordinate machines to forgive herbefore theburgomaster; and by his side stood real physiciansa terrible rowin long robes and square capsaccusing her of practising unlawfullyon the bodies of the duke's lieges. At first she was too frightenedto say a word. Novice likethe very name of "Law"paralyzed her. But being questioned closelybut not so harshly as ifshe had been uglyshe told the truth; she had long been her father'spupiland had but followed his systemand she had cured many; "andit is not for myself in very deedsirsbut I have two poor helplesshonest men at home upon my handsand how else can I keep them? Ahgood sirslet a poor girl make her bread honestly; ye hinder themnot to make it idly and shamefully; and ohsirsye are husbandsyeare fathers; ye cannot but see I have reason to work and provide asbest I may;" and ere this woman's appeal had left her lipsshewould have given the world to recall itand stood with one hand uponher heart and one before her facehiding itbut not the tears thattrickled underneath it. All which went to the wrong address. Perhapsa female bailiff might have yielded to such argumentsand bade herpractise medicineand break lawtill such time as her child shouldbe weanedand no longer.

"Whathave we to do with that" said the burgomastersave and exceptthat if thou wilt pledge thyself to break the law no moreI willremit the imprisonmentand exact but the fine?"

Onthis Doctor Margaret clasped her hands togetherand vowed mostpenitently nevernevernever to cure body or beast again; and beingdismissed with the constables to pay the fineshe turned at thedoorand curtsiedpoor souland thanked the gentlemen for theirforbearance.

Andto pay the fine the "To-morrow box" must be opened on theinstant; and with excess of caution she had gone and nailed it upthat no slight temptation might prevail to open it. And now she couldnot draw the nailsand the constables grew impatientand doubtedits contentsand said"Let us break it for you." But shewould not let them. "Ye will break it worse than I shall."And she took a hammerand struck too faintlyand lost all strengthfor a minuteand wept hysterically; and at last she broke itand alittle cry bubbled from her when it broke; and she paid the fineandit took all her unlawful gains and two gold pieces to boot; and whenthe men were goneshe drew the broken pieces of the boxand whatlittle money they had left herall together on the tableand herarms went round themand her rich hair escapedand fell down alllooseand she bowed her forehead on the wreckand sobbed"Mylove's box it is brokenand my heart withal;" and so remained.And Martin Wittenhaagen came inand she could not lift her headbutsighed out to him what had befallen herending"My love hisbox is brokenand so mine heart is broken."

AndMartin was not so sad as wroth. Some traitor had betrayed him. Whatstony heart had told and brought her to this pass? Whoever it wasshould feel his arrow's point. The curious attitude in which he mustdeliver the shaft never occurred to him.

"Idlechat! idle chat!" moaned Margaretwithout lifting her brow fromthe table. "When you have slain all the gossips in this towncan we eat them? Tell me how to keep you allor prithee hold thypeaceand let the saints get leave to whisper me." Martin heldhis tongueand cast uneasy glances at his defeated General.

Towardsevening she roseand washed her face and did up her hairanddoggedly bade Martin take down the crocodileand put out a basketinstead.

"Ican get up linen better than they seem to do it in this street"said she"and you must carry it in the basket."

"Thatwill I for thy sake" said the soldier.

"GoodMartin! forgive me that I spake shrewishly to thee."

Evenwhile they were talking came a male for advice. Margaret told it themayor had interfered and forbidden her to sell drugs. "But"said she"I will gladly iron and starch your linen for youandI will come and fetch it from your house."

"Areye madyoung woman?" said the male. "I come for a leechand ye proffer me a washerwoman;" and it went out in dudgeon.

"Thereis a stupid creature" said Margaret sadly.

Presentlycame a female to tell the symptoms of her sick child. Margaretstopped it.

"Weare forbidden by the bailiff to sell drugs. But I will gladly washironand starch your linen for you-and-I will come and fetch it fromyour house."

"Ohay" said the female. "WellI have some smocks and ruffsfoul. Come for them; and when you are thereyou can look at theboy;" and it told her where it livedand when its husband wouldbe out; yet it was rather fond of its husband than not.

Anintroduction is an introduction. And two or three patients out of allthose who came and were denied medicine made Doctor Margaret theirwasherwoman.

"NowMartinyou must help. I'll no more cats than can slay mice."

"Mistressthe stomach is not awanting for'tbut the headpieceworst luck."

"Oh!I mean not the starching and ironing; that takes a woman and a handyone. But the bare washing; a man can surely contrive that. Whyamule has wit enough in's head to do't with his hoofsan' ye coulddrive him into the tub. Comeoff doubletand try."

"Iam your man" said the brave old soldierstripping for theunwonted toil. "I'll risk my arm in soapsudsan you will riskyour glory."

"Mywhat?"

"Yourglory and honour as a - washerwoman."

"Gramercy!if you are man enough to bring me half-washed linen t' ironI amwoman enough to fling't back i' the suds."

Andso the brave girl and the brave soldier worked with a willand keptthe wolf from the door. More they could not do. Margaret had repairedthe "To-morrow box" and as she leaned over the gluehertears mixed with itand she cemented her exiled lover's box withthemat which a smile is allowablebut an intelligent smile tippedwith pitypleaseand not the empty guffaw of thenineteenth-century-jackassburlesquing Biblesand making fun of allthings except fun. But when mended it stood unreplenished. They keptthe weekly rent paidand the pot boilingbut no more.

Andnow came a concatenation. Recommended from one to anotherMargaretwashed for the mayor. And bringing home the clean linen one day sheheard in the kitchen that his worship's only daughter was strickenwith diseaseand not like to livePoor Margaret could not helpcross-questioningand a female servant gave her such of the symptomsas she had observed. But they were too general. Howeverone gossipwould add one factand another another. And Margaret pondered themall.

Atlast one day she met the mayor himself. He recognized her directly."Whyyou are the unlicensed doctor." "I was"said she"but now I'm your worship's washerwoman." Thedignitary colouredand said that was rather a come down. "NayI bear no malice; for your worship might have been harder. Ratherwould I do you a good turn. Siryou have a sick daughter. Let me seeher."

Themayor shook his head. "That cannot be. The law I do enforce onothers I may not break myself." Margaret opened her eyes."AlacksirI seek no guerdon now for curing folk; whyI am awasherwoman. I trow one may heal all the worldan if one will butlet the world starve one in return." "That is no more thanjust" said the mayor: he added"an' ye make no tradeon'tthere is no offence." "Then let me see her."

"Whatavails it? The learnedest leeches in Rotterdam have all seen herandbettered her nought. Her ill is inscrutable. One skilled wight saithspleen; anotherliver; anotherblood; anotherstomach; andanotherthat she is possessed; and in very truthshe seems to havea demon; shunneth all company; pineth alone; eateth no more victualsthan might diet a sparrow. Speaketh seldomnor hearkens them thatspeakand weareth thinner and paler and nearer and nearer the gravewell-a-day." "Sir" said Margaret"an if youtake your velvet doublet to half-a-dozen of shops in Rotterdamandspeer is this fine or sorry velvetand worth how much the ellthosesix traders will eye it and feel itand all be in one story to aletter. And why? Because they know their trade. And your leeches areall in different stories. Why? Because they know not their trade. Ihave heard my father say each is enamoured of some one evilandseeth it with his bat's eye in every patient. Had they stayed athomeand never seen your daughterthey had answered all the samespleenbloodstomachlungsliverlunacyor as they call itpossession. Let me see her. We are of a sexand that is much."And when he still hesitated"Saints of heaven!" cried shegiving way to the irritability of a breeding woman"is this howmen love their own flesh and blood? Her mother had ta'en me in herarms ere thisand carried me to the sick room." And two violeteyes flashed fire.

"Comewith me" said the mayor hastily.

"MistressI have brought thee a new doctor."

Theperson addresseda pale young girl of eighteengave a contemptuouswrench of her shoulderand turned more decidedly to the fire she wassitting over.

Margaretcame softly and sat beside her. "But 'tis one that will nottorment you.

"Awoman!" exclaimed the young ladywith surprise and somecontempt.

"Tellher your symptoms."

"Whatfor? you will be no wiser."

"Youwill be none the worse."

"WellI have no stomach for foodand no heart for any thing. Now cure meand go."

"Patienceawhile! Your foodis it tasteless like in your mouth?"

"Ay.How knew you that?"

"NayI knew it not till you did tell me. I trow you would be better for alittle good company."

"Itrow not. What is their silly chat to me?"

HereMargaret requested the father to leave them alone; and in his absenceput some practical questions. Then she reflected.

"Whenyou wake i' the morning you find yourself quiveras one may say?"

"Nay.Ay. How knew you that?"

"ShallI dose youor shall I but tease you a bit with my silly chat?"

"Whichyou will."

"ThenI will tell you a story. 'Tis about two true lovers."

"Ihate to hear of lovers" said the girl; "nevertheless cansttell me'twill be less nauseous than your physic - maybe."

Margaretthen told her a love story. The maiden was a girl called Urselandthe youth one Conrad; she an old physician's daughterhe the son ofa hosier at Tergou. She told their adventurestheir troublestheirsad condition. She told it from the female point of viewand in asweet and winning and earnest voicethat by degrees soon laid holdof this sullen heartand held it breathless; and when she broke itoff her patient was much disappointed.

"NaynayI must hear the end. I will hear it."

"Yecannotfor I know it not; none knoweth that but God."

"Ahyour Ursel was a jewel of worth" said the girl earnestly."Would she were here."

"Insteadof her that is here?"

"Isay not that;" and she blushed a little.

"Youdo but think it."

"Thoughtis free. Whether or noan she were hereI'd give her a busspoorthing."

"Thengive it mefor I am she."

"Naynaythat I'll be sworn y' are not."

"Saynot so; in very truth I am she. And pritheesweet mistressgo notfrom your wordbut give me the buss ye promised meand with a goodheartfor ohmy own heart lies heavy: heavy as thinesweetmistress."

Theyoung gentlewoman rose and put her arms round Margaret's neck andkissed her. "I am woe for you" she sighed. "You are agood soul; you have done me good - a little." (A gulp came inher throat.) "Come again! come again!"

Margaretdid come againand talked with herand gentlybut keenly watchedwhat topics interested herand found there was but one. Then shesaid to the mayor"I know your daughter's troubleand 'tiscurable."

"Whatis't? the blood?"

"Nay."

"Thestomach?"

"Nay."

"Theliver?"

"Nay."

"Thefoul fiend?"

"Nay."

"Whatthen?"

"Love."

"Love?stuffimpossible! She is but a child; she never stirs abroadunguarded. She never hath from a child."

"Allthe better; then we shall not have far to look for him."

"Ivow not. I shall but command her to tell me the caitiff's namethathath by magic arts ensnared her young affections."

"Ohhow foolish be the wise!" said Margaret; "whatwould ye goand put her on her guard? Naylet us work by art first; and if thatfailsthen 'twill still be time for violence and folly."

Margaretthen with some difficulty prevailed on the mayor to take advantage ofits being Saturdayand pay all his people their salaries in hisdaughter's presence and hers.

Itwas done: some fifteen people entered the roomand received theirpay with a kind word from their employer. Then Margaretwho had satclose to the patient all the timerose and went out. The mayorfollowed her.

"Sirhow call you yon black-haired lad?"

"Thatis Ulrichmy clerk."

"Wellthen'tis he."

"NowHeaven forbid a lad I took out of the streets."

"Wellbut your worship is an understanding man. You took him not up withoutsome merit of his?"

"Merit?not a jot! I liked the looks of the bratthat was all."

"Wasthat no merit? He pleased the father's eye. And now who had pleasedthe daughter's. That has oft been seen since Adam."

"Howknow ye 'tis he?"

"Iheld her handand with my finger did lightly touch her wrist; andwhen the others came and went'twas as if dogs and cats had fared inand out. But at this Ulrich's coming her pulse did leapand her eyeshine; and when he wentshe did sink back and sigh; and 'twas to beseen the sun had gone out of the room for her. Nayburgomasterlooknot on me so scared: no witch or magician Ibut a poor girl thathath been docileand so bettered herself by a great neglectedleech's art and learning. I tell ye all this hath been done beforethousands of years ere we were born. Now bide thou there till I cometo theeand pritheepritheespoil not good work wi' meddling."She then went back and asked her patient for a lock of her hair.

"Takeit" said shemore listlessly than ever.

"Why'tis a lass of marble. How long do you count to be like thatmistress?"

"TillI am in my gravesweet Peggy."

"Whoknows? maybe in ten minutes you will be altogether as hot."

Sheran into the shopbut speedily returned to the mayor and said"Goodnews! He fancies her and more than a little. Now how is't to be? Willyou marry your childor bury herfor there is no third wayforshame and love they do rend her virgin heart to death."

Thedignitary decided for the more cheerful ritebut not without astruggle; and with its marks on his face he accompanied Margaret tohis daughter. But as men are seldom in a hurry to drink theirwormwoodhe stood silent. So Doctor Margaret said cheerfully"Mistressyour lock is gone; I have sold it."

"Andwho was so mad as to buy such a thing?" inquired the young ladyscornfully.

"Oha black-haired laddie wi' white teeth. They call him Ulrich."

Thepale face reddened directlybrow and all.

"Sayshe'Ohsweet mistressgive it me.' I had told them all whose'twas. 'Nay' said I'selling is my livelihoodnot giving.' So heoffered me thishe offered me thatbut nought less would I takethan his next quarter's wages.

"Cruel"murmured the girlscarce audibly.

"Whyyou are in one tale with your father. Says he to me when I told him'Ohan he loves her hair so well'tis odd but he loves the rest ofher. Well' quoth he''tis an honest ladand a shall have hergienshe will but leave her sulks and consent.' Sowhat say yemistresswill you be married to Ulrichor buried i' the kirkyard?"

"Father!father!"

"'Tissogirlspeak thy mind."

"Iwill obey my father - in all things" stammered the poor girltrying hard to maintain the advantageous position in which Margarethad placed her. But natureand the joy and surprisewere too strongeven for a virgin's bashful cunning. She cast an eloquent look onthem bothand sank at her father's kneesand begged his pardonwith many sobs for having doubted his tenderness.

Heraised her in his armsand took herradiant through her tears withjoyand returning lifeand filial loveto his breast; and the pairpassed a truly sacred momentand the dignitary was as happy as hethought to be miserable; so hard is it for mortals to foresee. Andthey looked round for Margaretbut she had stolen away softly.

Theyoung girl searched the house for her.

"Whereis she hid? Where on earth is she?"

Wherewas she? whyin her own housedressing meat for her two oldchildrenand crying bitterly the while at the living picture ofhappiness she had just created.

"Well-a-daythe odds between her lot and mine; well-a-day!"

Nexttime she met the dignitary he hemm'd and hawedand remarked what apity it was the law forbade him to pay her who had cured hisdaughter. "Howeverwhen all is done'twas not art'twas butwoman's wit."

"Noughtbut thatburgomaster" said Margaret bitterly. "Pay themen of art for not curing her: all the guerdon I seekthat curedheris this: go not and give your foul linen away from me by way ofthanks."

"Whyshould I?" inquired he.

"Marrybecause there be fools about ye will tell ye she that hath wit tocure dark diseasescannot have wit to take dirt out o' rags; sopledge me your faith."

Thedignitary promised pompouslyand felt all the patron.

Somethingmust be done to fill "To-morrow's" box. She hawked herinitial letters and her illuminated vellums all about the town.Printing had by this time dealt caligraphy in black and white aterrible blow in Holland and Germany. But some copies of the printedbooks were usually illuminated and fettered. The printers offeredMargaret prices for work in these two kinds.

"I'llthink on't" said she.

Shetook down her diurnal bookand calculated that the price of anhour's work on those arts would be about one-fifth what she got foran hour at the tub and mangle. "I'll starve first" saidshe; "whatpay a craft and a mystery five times less than ahandicraft!"

Martincarrying the dry clothes-basketgot treatedand drunk. This time hebabbled her whole story. The girls got hold of it and gibed her atthe fountain.

Allshe had gone through was light to hercompared with the pins andbodkins her own sex drove into her heartwhenever she came near themerry crew with her pitcherand that was every day. Each sex has itsform of cruelty; man's is more brutal and terrible; but shallowwomenthat have neither read nor sufferedhave an unmuscularbarbarity of their own (where no feeling of sex steps in to overpowerit). This defectintellectual perhaps rather than moralhas beenmitigated in our day by booksespecially by able works of fiction;for there are two roads to the highest effort of intelligencePity;Experience of sorrowsand Imaginationby which alone we realize thegrief we never felt. In the fifteenth century girls with pitchers hadbut one; Experience; and at sixteen years of age or sothat road hadscarce been trodden. These girls persisted that Margaret was desertedby her lover. And to be deserted was a crime (They had not beendeserted yet.) Not a word against the Gerard they had created out oftheir own heads. For the imaginary crime they fell foul of thesupposed victim. Sometimes they affronted her to her face. Oftenerthey talked at her backwards and forwards with a subtle skilland aperseverance which"ohthat they had bestowed on the arts"as poor Aguecheek says.

NowMargaret was braveand a coward; brave to battle difficulties andill fortune; brave to shed her own blood for those she loved.Fortitude she had. But she had no true fighting courage. She was apowerful young womanrather tallfulland symmetrical; yet had oneof those slips of girls slapped her facethe poor fool's hands wouldhave dropped powerlessor gone to her own eyes instead of heradversary's. Nor was she even a match for so many tongues; andbesideswhat could she say? She knew nothing of these girlsexceptthat somehow they had found out her sorrowsand hated her; only shethought to herself they must be very happyor they would not be sohard on her.

Soshe took their taunts in silence; and all her struggle was not to letthem see their power to make her writhe within.

Herecame in her fortitude; and she received their blows withwell-feignedicy hauteur. They slapped a statue.

Butone daywhen her spirits were weakas happens at times to femalesin her conditiona dozen assailants followed suit so admirablythather whole sex seemed to the dispirited one to be against herand shelost heartand the tears began to run silently at each fresh stab.

Onthis their triumph knew no boundsand they followed her half wayhome casting barbed speeches.

Afterthat exposure of weakness the statue could be assumed no more. Sothen she would stand timidly aloof out of tongue-shottill her youngtyrants' pitchers were all filledand they gone; and then creep upwith hers. And one day she waited so long that the fount had ceasedto flow. So the next day she was obliged to face the phalanxor herhouse go dry. She drew near slowlybut with the less tremorthatshe saw a man at the well talking to them. He would distract theirattentionand besidesthey would keep their foul tongues quiet ifonly to blind the male to their real character. This conjecturethough shrewdwas erroneous. They could not all flirt with that oneman; so the outsiders indemnified themselves by talking at her thevery moment she came up.

"Anynews from foreign partsJacqueline?"

"Nonefor meMartha. My lad goes no farther from me than the town wall."

"Ican't say as much" says a third.

"Butif he goes t' Italy I have got another ready to take the fool'splace."

"He'llnot go thitherlass. They go not so far till they are sick of usthat bide in Holland."

Surpriseand indignationand the presence of a mangave Margaret a moment'sfighting courage.

"Ohflout me notand show your ill nature before the very soldier. InHeaven's namewhat ill did I ever to ye? what harsh word cast backfor all you have flung on mea desolate stranger in your cruel townthat ye flout me for my bereavement and my poor lad's most unwillingbanishment? Hearts of flesh would surely pity us bothfor that yecast in my teeth these many daysye brows of brassye bosoms ofstone."

Theystared at this noveltyresistance; and ere they could recover andmake mincement of hershe put her pitcher quietly downand threwher coarse apron over her headand stood there grievinghershort-lived spirit oozing fast. "Hallo!" cried the soldier"whywhat is your ill?" She made no reply. But a littlegirlwho had long secretly hated the big onessqueaked out"Theydid flout herthey are aye flouting her; she may not come nigh thefountain for fear o' themand 'tis a black shame."

"Whospoke to her! Not I for one."

"NorI. I would not bemean myself so far."

Theman laughed heartily at this display of dignity. "Comewife"said he"never lower thy flag to such light skirmishers asthese. Hast a tongue i' thy head as well as they."

"Alackgood soldierI was not bred to bandy foul terms."

"Wellbut hast a better arm than these. Why not take 'em by twos across thykneeand skelp 'em till they cry Meculpee?"

"NayI would not hurt their bodies for all their cruel hearts."

"Thenye must e'en laugh at themwife. What! a woman grownand not seewhy mesdames give tongue? You are a buxom wife; they are a bundle ofthread-papers. You are fair and fresh; they have all the Dutch rimunder their bright eyesthat comes of dwelling in eternal swamps.There lies your crime. Comegie me thy pitcherand if they floutmeshalt see me scrub 'em all wi' my beard till they squeak holymother." The pitcher was soon filledand the soldier put it inMargaret's hand. She murmured"Thank you kindlybravesoldier."

Hepatted her on the shoulder. "Comecouragebrave wife; thedivell is dead!" She let the heavy pitcher fall on his footdirectly. He cursed horriblyand hopped in a circlesaying"Nothe Thief's alive and has broken my great toe."

Theapron came downand there was a lovely face all flushed with'emotionand two beaming eyes in front of himand two hands held outclasped.

"Naynay'tis nought" said he good-humouredlymistaking.

"Denys?"

"Well?- But - Hallo! How know you my name is - "

"Denysof Burgundy!"

"Whyods bodikins! I know you notand you know me."

"ByGerard's letter. Crossbow! beard! handsome! The divell is dead."

"Swordof Goliah! this must be she. Red hairviolet eyeslovely face. ButI took ye for a married wifeseeing ye- - "

"Tellme my name" said she quickly.

"MargaretBrandt."

"Gerard?Where is he? Is he in life? Is he well? Is he coming? Is he come? Whyis he not here? Where have ye left him? Oh tell me! pritheepritheepritheetell me!"

"Ayaybut not here. Ohye are all curiosity nowmesdameseh? LassIhave been three months a-foot travelling all Holland to find yeandhere you are. Ohbe joyful!" and he flung his cap in the airand seizing both her hands kissed them ardently. "Ahmy prettyshe-comradeI have found thee at last. I knew I should. Shall beflouted no more. I'll twist your necks at the first wordye littletrollops. And I have got fifteen gold angels left for theeand ourGerard will soon be here. Shalt wet thy purple eyes no more."

Butthe fair eyes were wet even nowlooking kindly and gratefully at thefriend that had dropped among her foes as if from heaven; Gerard'scomrade. "Prithee come home with me goodkind Denys. I cannotspeak of him before these." They went off togetherfollowed bya chorus. "She has gotten a man. She has gotten a man at last.Boo! boo! boo!"

Margaretquickened her steps; but Denys took down his crossbow and pretendedto shoot them all dead: they fled quadriviousshrieking.

 

CHAPTERLI

Thereader already knows how much these two had to tell one another. Itwas a sweet yet bitter day for Margaretsince it brought her a truefriendand ill news; for now first she learned that Gerard was allalone in that strange land. She could not think with Denys that hewould come home; indeed he would have arrived before this.

Denyswas a balm. He called her his she-comradeand was always cheeringher up with his formula and hilaritiesand she petted him and mademuch of himand feebly hectored it over him as well as over Martinand would not let him eat a single meal out of her houseand forbadehim to use naughty words. "It spoils youDenys. Good lacktohear such ugly words come forth so comely a head: forbearor I shallbe angry: so be civil." Whereupon Denys was upon his goodbehaviourand ludicrous the struggle between his native politenessand his acquired ruffianism. And as it never rains but it poursother persons now solicited Margaret's friendship. She had written toMargaret Van Eyck a humble letter telling her she knew she was nolonger the favourite she had beenand would keep her distance; butcould not forget her benefactress's past kindness. She then told herbriefly how many ways she had battled for a livingand inconclusionbegged earnestly that her residence might not bebetrayed"least of all to his people. I do hate themtheydrove him from me. And even when he was gonetheir hearts turned notto me as they would an if they had repented their cruelty to him."

TheVan Eyck was perplexed. At last she made a confidante of Reicht. Thesecret ran through Reichtas through a cylinderto Catherine.

"Ayand is she turned that bitter against us?" said that good woman."She stole our son from usand now she hates us for not runninginto her arms. Natheless it is a blessing she is alive and no fartheraway than Rotterdam."

TheEnglish princessnow Countess Charoloismade a stately progressthrough the northern states of the duchyaccompanied by herstepdaughter the young heiress of BurgundyMarie de Bourgogne. Thenthe old dukethe most magnificent prince in Europeput out hissplendour. Troops of dazzling knightsand bevies of fair ladiesgorgeously attiredattended the two princesses; and minstrelsjongleursor story-tellersbardsmusiciansactorstumblersfollowed in the train; and there was fencingdancingand joy inevery town they shone on. Richart invited all his people to meet himat Rotterdam and view the pageant.

Theyhad been in Rotterdam some dayswhen Denys met Catherineaccidentally in the streetand after a warm greeting on both sidesbade her rejoicefor he had found the she-comradeand crowed; butCatherine cooled him by showing him how much earlier he would havefound her by staying quietly at Tergouthan by vagabondizing it allover Holland. "And being foundwhat the better are we? herheart is set dead against us now."

"Ohlet that flea stick; come you with me to her house."

Noshe would not go where she was sure of an ill welcome. "Themthat come unbidden sit unseated." Nolet Denys be mediatorandbring the parties to a good understanding. He undertook the office atonceand with great pomp and confidence. He trotted off to Margaretand said"She-comradeI met this day a friend of thine."

"Thoudidst look into the Rotter thenand see thyself."

"Nay'twas a femaleand one that seeks thy regard; 'twas CatherineGerard's mother."

"Ohwas it?" said Margaret; "then you may tell her she comestoo late. There was a time I longed and longed for her; but she heldaloof in my hour of most needso now we will be as we ha' been.'

Denystried to shake this resolution. He coaxed herbut she was bitter andsullenand not to be coaxed. Then he scolded her well; thenat thatshe went into hysterics.

Hewas frightened at this result of his eloquenceand being off hisguardallowed himself to be entrapped into a solemn promise never torecur to the subject. He went back to Catherine crestfallenand toldher. She fired up and told the family how his overtures had beenreceived. Then they fired up; it became a feud and burned fiercerevery day. Little Kate alone made some excuses for Margaret.

Thevery next day another visitor came to Margaretand found themilitary enslaved and degradedMartin up to his elbows in soapsudsand Denys ironing very clumsilyand Margaret plaiting ruffsbutwith a mistress's eye on her raw levies. To these there entered anold manvenerable at first sightbut on nearer view keen andwizened.

"Ah"cried Margaret. Then swiftly turned her back on him and hid her facewith invincible repugnance. "Ohthat man! that man!"

"Nayfear me not" said Ghysbrecht; "I come on a friend'serrand. I bring ye a letter from foreign parts."

"Mockme notold man" and she turned slowly round.

"Naysee;" and he held out an enormous letter.

Margaretdarted on itand held it with trembling hands and glistening eyes.It was Gerard's handwriting.

"Ohthank yousirbless you for thisI forgive you all the ill youever wrought me."

Andshe pressed the letter to her bosom with one handand glided swiftlyfrom the room with it.

Asshe did not come backGhysbrecht went awaybut not without a scowlat Martha. Margaret was hours alone with her letter.

 

CHAPTERLII

Whenshe came down again she was a changed woman. Her eyes were wetbutcalmand all her bitterness and excitement charmed away.

"Denys"said she softly"I have got my orders. I am to read my lover'sletter to his folk."

"Yewill never do that?"

"Aywill I."

"Isee there is something in the letter has softened ye towards them."

"Nota jotDenysnot a jot. But an I hated them like poison I would notdisobey my love. Denys'tis so sweet to obeyand sweetest of all toobey one who is farfar awayand cannot enforce my dutybut musttrust my love for my obedience. AhGerardmy darlingat hand Imight have slighted thy commandsmisliking thy folk as I have causeto do; but nowdidst bid me go into the raging sea and read thysweet letter to the sharksthere I'd go. ThereforeDenystell hismother I have got a letterand if she and hers would hear itI amtheir servant; let them say their hourand I'll seat them as best Icanand welcome them as best I may."

Denyswent off to Catherine with this good news. He found the family atdinnerand told them there was a long letter from Gerard. Then inthe midst of the joy this causedhe said"And her heart issoftenedand she will read it to you herself; you are to choose yourown time."

"Whatdoes she think there are none can read but her?" askedCatherine. "Let her send the letter and we will read it."

"Naybutmother" objected little Kate; "mayhap she cannot bearto part it from her hand; she loves him dearly."

"Whatthinks she we shall steal it?"

Cornelissuggested that she would fain wedge herself into the family by meansof this letter.

Denyscast a look of scorn on the speaker. "There spoke a bad heart"said he. "La camarade hates you all like poison. Ohmistake menotdame; I defend her notbut so 'tis; yet maugre her spleen at aword from Gerard she proffers to read you his letter with her ownpretty mouthand hath a voice like honey - sure 'tis a fairproffer."

"'Tissomine honest soldier" said the father of the family"andmerits a civil replytherefore hold your whisht ye that be womenand I shall answer her. Tell her Ihis fathersetting aside allpast grudgesdo for this grace thank herand would she have doublethankslet her send my son's letter by thy faithful handthe whichwill I read to his flesh and bloodand will then to her so surelyand faithful returnas I am Eli a Dierich a William a Lukefreeburgher of Tergoulike my forbearsand like thema man of myword."

"Ayand a man who is better than his word" cried Catherine; "theonly one I ever did foregather."

"Holdthy peacewife."

"Arta man of senseElia dirka chosea "chose"shouted Denys. "The she-comrade will be right glad to obeyGerard and yet not face you allwhom she hates as wormwoodsavingyour presence. Bless yethe world hath changedshe is allsubmission to-day: 'obedience is honey' quoth she; and in sooth 'tisa sweetmeat she cannot but savoureating so little on'tfor whatwith her fair faceand her mellow tongue; and what wi' flying infits and terrifying us that be soldiers to deathan we thwart her;and what wi' chiding us one whileand petting us like lambs t'othershe hath made two of the crawlingest slaves ever you saw outof two honest swashbucklers. I be the ironing ruffiant' otherwashes."

"Whatnext?

"Whatnext? whywhenever the brat is in the world I shall rock cradleandt' other knave will wash tucker and bib. SothenI'll go fetch theletter on the instant. Ye will let me bide and hear it readwill yenot?"

"Elseour hearts were black as coal" said Catherine.

SoDenys went for the letter. He came back crestfallen. "She willnot let it out of her hand neither to me nor younor any he or shethat lives."

"Iknew she would not" said Cornelis.

"Whisht!whisht!" said Eli"and let Denys tell his story."

"'Nay'said I'but be ruled by me.' 'Not I' quoth she. 'Wellbut' quothI'that same honey Obedience ye spake of.' 'You are a fool' saysshe; 'obedience to Gerard is sweetbut obedience to any other bodywho ever said that was sweet?'

"Atlast she seemed to soften a bitand did give me a written paper foryoumademoiselle. Here 'tis."

"Forme?" said little Katecolouring.

"Givethat here!" said Eliand he scanned the writingand saidalmost in a whisper"These be words from the letter Hearken!

"'Andsweetheartan if these lines should travel safe to theemake thoutrial of my people's hearts withal. Maybe they are somewhat turnedtowards mebeing far away. If 'tis so they will show it to theesince now to me they may not. Readthenthis letter! But I dostrictly forbid thee to let it from thy hand; and if they still holdaloof from theewhythen say noughtbut let them think me dead.Obey me in this; forif thou dost disrespect my judgment and my willin thisthou lovest me not.'"

Therewas a silenceand Gerard's words copied by Margaret here handedround and inspected.

"Well"said Catherine"that is another matter. But methinks 'tis forher to come to usnot we to her."

"Alasmother! what odds does that make?"

"Much"said Eli. "Tell her we are over many to come to herand bid herhitherthe sooner the better."

WhenDenys was goneEli owned it was a bitter pill to him.

"Whenthat lass shall cross my thresholdall the mischief and misery shehath made here will seem to come in adoors in one heap. But whatcould I dowife? We must hear the news of Gerard. I saw that inthine eyesand felt it in my own heart. And she is backed by ourundutiful but still beloved sonand so is she stronger than weandbrings our noses down to the grindstonethe slycruel jade. Butnever heed. We will hear the letter; and then let her go unblessed asshe came unwelcome."

"Makeyour mind easy" said Catherine. "She will not come atall." And a tone of regret was visible.

Shortlyafter Richartwho had been hourly expectedarrived from Amsterdamgrave and dignified in his burgher's robe and gold chainruffandfurred capand was received not with affection onlybut respect;for he had risen a step higher than his parentsand such steps weremarked in mediaeval society almost as visibly as those in theirstaircases.

Admittedin due course to the family councilhe showed plainlythough notdiscourteouslythat his pride was deeply wounded by their havingdeigned to treat with Margaret Brandt. "I see the temptation"said he. "But which of us hath not at times to wish one way anddo another?" This threw a considerable chill over the oldpeople. So little Kate put in a word. "Vex not thyselfdearRichart. Mother says she will not come.

"Allthe bettersweetheart. I fear meif she doI shall hie me back toAmsterdam."

HereDenys popped his head in at the doorand said -

"Shewill be here at three on the great dial."

Theyall looked at one another in silence.

 

CHAPTERLIII

"NayRichart" said Catherine at last"for Heaven's sake letnot this one sorry wench set us all by the ears: hath she not madeill blood enough already?"

"Invery deed she hath. Fear me notgood mother. Let her come and readthe letter of the poor boy she hath by devilish arts bewitched andthen let her go. Give me your words to show her no countenance beyonddecent and constrained civility: less we may notbeing in our ownhouse; and I will say no more." On this understanding theywaited the foe. Shefor her partprepared for the interview in aspirit little less hostile. When Denys brought word they would notcome to herbut would receive herher lip curledand she bade himobserve how in them every feelinghowever smallwas larger than thelove for Gerard. "Well" said she"I have not thatexcuse; so why mimic the pretty burgher's pridethe pride of allunlettered folk? I will go to them for Gerard's sake. Ohhow Iloathe them!"

Thuspoor good-natured Denys was bringing into one house the materials ofan explosion.

Margaretmade her toilet in the same spirit that a knight of her day dressedfor battle - he to parry blowsand she to parry glances - glances ofcontempt at her povertyor of irony at her extravagance. Her kirtlewas of English clothdark blueand her farthingale and hose of thesame materialbut a glossy roanor claret colour. Not an inch ofpretentious fur about herbut plain snowy linen wristbandsandcuriously plaited linen from the bosom of the kirtle up to thecommencement of the throat; it did not encircle her throatbutframed itbeing squarenot round. Her front hair still peeped intwo waves much after the fashion which Mary Queen of Scots revived acentury later; but instead of the silver netwhich would have illbecome her present conditionthe rest of her head was covered with avery small tight-fitting hood of dark blue clothhemmed with silver.Her shoes were red; but the roan petticoat and hose prepared thespectator's mind for the shockand they set off the arched instepand shapely foot.

Beautyknew its business then as now.

Andwith all this she kept her enemies waitingthough it was three bythe dial.

Atlast she startedattended by her he-comrade. And when they werehalfwayshe stopped and said thoughtfully"Denys!"

"Wellshe-general?"

"Imust go home" (piteously).

"Whathave ye left somewhat behind?"

"What?"

"Mycourage. Oh! oh! oh!"

"Naynaybe braveshe-general. I shall be with you."

"Aybut wilt keep close to me when I be there?"

Denyspromisedand she resumed her marchbut gingerly.

Meantimethey were all assembledand waiting for her with a strange mixtureof feelings.

Mortificationcuriositypanting affectionaversion to her who came to gratifythose feelingsyet another curiosity to see what she was likeandwhat there was in her to bewitch Gerard and make so much mischief.

Atlast Denys came aloneand whispered"The she-comrade iswithout."

"Fetchher in" said Eli. "Now whishtall of ye. None speak toher but I."

Theyall turned their eyes to the door in dead silence.

Alittle muttering was heard outside; Denys's rough organ and a woman'ssoft and mellow voice.

Presentlythat stopped; and then the door opened slowlyand Margaret Brandtdressed as I have describedand somewhat palebut calm and lovelystood on the thresholdlooking straight before her.

Theyall rose but Kateand remained mute and staring.

"Beseatedmistress" said Eli gravelyand motioned to a seat thathad been set apart for her.

Sheinclined her headand crossed the apartment; and in so doing hercondition was very visiblenot only in her shapebut in herlanguor.

Cornelisand Sybrandt hated her for it. Richart thought it spoiled her beauty.

Itsoftened the women somewhat.

Shetook her letter out of her bosomand kissed it as if she had beenalone; then disposed herself to read itwith the air of one who knewshe was there for that single purpose.

Butas she beganshe noticed they had seated her all by herself like aleper. She looked at Denysand putting her hand down by her sidemade him a swift furtive motion to come by her.

Hewent with an obedient start as if she had cried "March!"and stood at her shoulder like a sentinel; but this zealous manner ofdoing it revealed to the company that he had been ordered thither;and at that she coloured. And now she began to read her GerardtheirGerardto their eager earsin a mellowclear voiceso softsoearnestso thrillingher very soul seemed to cling about eachprecious sound. It was a voice as of a woman's bosom set speaking byHeaven itself.

"Ido nothing doubtmy Margaretthat long ere this shall meet thybeloved eyesDenysmy most dear friendwill have sought thee outand told thee the manner of our unlooked for and most tearfulparting. Therefore I will e'en begin at that most doleful day. Whatbefell him afterpoor faithful soulfainfain would I hearbutmay not. But I pray for him day and night next after theedearest.Friend more stanch and loving had not David in Jonathanthan I inhim. Be good to himfor poor Gerard's sake."

Atthese wordswhich came quite unexpectedly to himDenys leaned hishead on Margaret's high chairand groaned aloud.

Sheturned quickly as she satand found his handand pressed it.

Andso the sweetheart and the friend held hands while the sweetheartread.

"Iwent forward all dizziedlike one in an ill dream; and presently agentleman came up with his servantsall on horsebackand had likedto have rid o'er me. And he drew rein at the brow of the hillandsent his armed men back to rob me. They robbed me civilly enough andtook my purse and the last copperand rid gaily away. I wanderedstupid ona friendless pauper.

Therewas a general sighfollowed by an oath from Denys.

"Presentlya strange dimness came o'er me; I lay down to sleep on the snow.'Twas ill doneand with store of wolves hard by. Had I loved thee asthou dost deserveI had shown more manhood. But ohsweet lovethedrowsiness that did crawl o'er me desolateand benumb mewas morethan nature. And so I slept; and but that God was better to usthanI to thee or to myselffrom that sleep I ne'er had waked; so all dosay. I had slept an hour or twoas I supposebut no morewhen ahand did shake me rudely. I awoke to my troubles. And there stood aservant girl in her holiday suit. 'Are ye mad' quoth shein seemingcholer'to sleep in snowand under wolves' nosen? Art weary o'lifeand not long weaned? Comenowsaid shemore kindly'get uplike a good lad;' so I did rise up. 'Are ye richor are ye poor?'But I stared at her as one amazed. 'Why'tis easy of reply' quothshe. 'Are ye richor are ye poor?' Then I gave a greatloud cry;that she did start back. 'Am I richor am I poor? Had ye asked me anhour agoneI had said I am rich. But now I am so poor as sure earthbeareth on her bosom none poorer. An hour agone I was rich in afriendrich in moneyrich in hope and spirits of youth; but now theBastard of Burgundy hath taken my friendand another gentleman mypurse; and I can neither go forward to Rome nor back to her I left inHolland. I am poorest of the poor.' 'Alack!' said the wench.'Nathelessan ye had been rich ye might ha' lain down again in thesnow for any use I had for ye; and then I trow ye had soon fared outo' this world as bare as ye came into it. Butbeing pooryou areour man: so come wi' me.' Then I went because she bade meandbecause I recked not now whither I went. And she took me to a finehouse hard byand into a noble dining-hall hung with black; andthere was set a table with many dishesand but one plate and onechair. 'Fall to!' said shein a whisper. 'Whatalone?' said I.'Alone? And which of usthink yewould eat out of the same dishwith ye? Are we robbers o' the dead?' Then she speered where I wasborn. 'At Tergou' said I. Says she'And when a gentleman dies inthat countryserve they not the dead man's dinner up as usualtillhe be in the groundand set some poor man to it?' I told her'nay.'She blushed for us then. Here they were better Christians.' So Ibehoved to sit down. But small was my heart for meat. Then this kindlass sat by me and poured me out wine; and tasting itit cut me tothe heart Denys was not there to drink with me. He doth so love goodwineand women goodbador indifferent. The richstrong winecurled round my sick heart; and that day first I did seem to glimpsewhy folk in trouble run to drink so. She made me eat of every dish.''Twas unlucky to pass one. Nought was here but her master's dailydinner.' 'He had a good stomachthen' said I. 'Ayladand a goodheart. Leastwaysso we all say now he is dead; butbeing alivenoword on't e'er heard I.' So I did eat as a birdnibbling of everydish. And she hearing me sighand seeing me like to choke at thefoodtook pity and bade me be of good cheer. I should sup and liethere that night. And she went to the hindand he gave me a rightgood bed; and I told him alland asked him would the law give meback my purse. 'Law!' quoth he; 'law there was none for the poor inBurgundy. Why'twas the cousin of the Lady of the Manorhe that hadrobbed me. He knew the wild spark. The matter must be judged beforethe lady; and she was quite youngand far more like to hang me forslandering her cousinand a gentlemanand a handsome manthan tomake him give me back my own. Inside the liberties of a town a poorman might now and then see the face of justice; but out among thegrand seigneurs and dames - never.' So I said'I'll sit down robbedrather than seek justice and find gallows.' They were all most kindto me next day; and the girl proffered me money from her small wageto help me towards Rhine."

"Ohthenhe is coming home! he is coming home!" shouted Denysinterrupting the reader. She shook her head gently at himby way ofreproof.

"Ibeg pardonall the company" said he stiffly.

"'Twasa sore temptation; but being a servantmy stomach rose against it.'Naynay' said I. She told me I was wrong. ''Twas pride out o'place; poor folk should help one another; or who on earth would?' Isaid if I could do aught in return 'twere well; but for a free giftnay: I was overmuch beholden already. Should I write a letter forher? 'Nayhe is in the house at present' said she. 'Should I drawher pictureand so earn my money?' 'Whatcan ye?' said she. I toldher I could try; and her habit would well become a picture. So shewas agog to be limnedand give it her lad. And I set her to stand ina good lightand soon made sketches twowhereof I send thee onecoloured at odd hours. The other I did most hastilyand with littleconscience daubfor which may Heaven forgive me; but time was short.Theypoor thingsknew no betterand were most proud and joyous;and both kissing me after their country fashion'twas the hind thatwas her sweetheartthey did bid me God-speed; and I towards Rhine."

Margaretpaused hereand gave Denys the coloured drawing to hand round. Itwas eagerly examined by the females on account of the costumewhichdiffered in some respects from that of the Dutch domestic: the hairwas in a tight linen baga yellow half kerchief crossed her headfrom ear to earbut threw out a rectangular point that descended thecentre of her foreheadand it met in two more points over her bosom.She wore a red kirtle with long sleeveskilted very high in frontand showing a green farthingale and a great red leather purse hangingdown over it; red stockingsyellow leathern shoesahead of her age;for they were low-quartered and square-toedsecured by a strapbuckling over the instepwhich was not uncommonand was perhaps therude germ of the diamond buckle to come.

Margaretcontinued:-

"Butoh! how I missed my Denys at every step! often I sat down on the roadand groaned. And in the afternoon it chanced that I did so set medown where two roads metand with heavy head in handand heavyheartdid think of theemy poor sweetheartand of my lost friendand of the little house at Tergouwhere they all loved me once;though now it is turned to hate.

Catherine."Alas! that he will think so."

Eli."Whishtwife!"

"AndI did sigh loudand often. And me sighing soone came carollinglike a bird adown t' other road. 'Aychirp and chirp' cried Ibitterly. 'Thou has not lost sweetheartand friendthey father'shearththy mother's smileand every penny in the world.' And atlast he did so caroland carolI jumped up in ire to get away fromhis most jarring mirth. But ere I lied from itI looked down thepath to see what could make a man so lighthearted in this wearyworld; and lo! the songster was a humpbacked cripplewith a bloodybandage o'er his eyeand both legs gone at the knee."

"He!he! he! he! he!" went Sybrandtlaughing and cackling.

Margaret'seyes flashed: she began to fold the letter up.

"Naylass" said Eli"heed him not! Thou unmannerly curoffer't but again and I put thee to the door."

"Whywhat was there to gibe atSybrandt?" remonstrated Catherinemore mildly. "Is not our Kate afflicted? and is she not the mostcontent of us alland singeth like a merle at times between herpains? But I am as bad as thou; prithee read onlassand stop ourgabble wi' somewhat worth the hearkening."

"'Then'said I'may this thing be?' And I took myself to task. 'Gerardsonof Elidost thou well to bemoan thy lotthou hast youth and health;and here comes the wreck of nature on crutchespraising God'sgoodness with singing like a mavis?'"

Catherine."There you see."

Eli."Whishtdamewhisht!"

"Andwhenever he saw mehe left carolling and presently hobbled up andchanted'Charityfor love of Heavensweet mastercharity' with awhine as piteous as wind at keyhole. 'Alackpoor soul' said I'charity is in my heartbut not my purse; I am poor as thou.' Thenhe believed me noneand to melt me undid his sleeveand showed asore wound on his armand said he'Poor cripple though I beI amlike to lose this eye to bootlook else.' I saw and groaned for himand to excuse myself let him wot how I had been robbed of my lastcopper. Thereat he left whining all in a momentand saidin a bigmanly voice'Then I'll e'en take a rest. Hereyoungsterpull thouthis strap: nayfear not!' I pulledand down came a stout pair oflegs out of his back; and half his hump had melted awayand thewound in his eye no deeper than the bandage.

"Oh!"ejaculated Margaret's hearers in a body.

"Whereatseeing me astoundedhe laughed in my faceand told me I was notworth gullingand offered me his protection. 'My face wasprophetic' he said. 'Of what?' said I. 'Marry' said he'that itsowner will starve in this thievish land.' Travel teaches e'en theyoung wisdom. Time was I had turned and fled this impostor as apestilence; but now I listened patiently to pick up crumbs ofcounsel. And well I did: for nature and his adventurous life hadcrammed the poor knave with shrewdness and knowledge of the homeliersort - a child was I beside him. When he had turned me inside outsaid he'Didst well to leave France and make for Germany; but thinknot of Holland again. Nayon to Augsburg and Nurnbergthe Paradiseof craftsmen: thence to Venicean thou wilt. But thou wilt neverbide in Italy nor any other landhaving once tasted the great Germancities. Whythere is but one honest country in Europeand that isGermany; and since thou art honestand since I am a vagaboneGermany was made for us twain.' I bade him make that good: how mightone country fit true men and knaves! 'Whythou novice' said he'because in an honest land are fewer knaves to bite the honest manand many honest men for the knave to bite. I was in luckbeinghonestto have fallen in with a friendly sharp. Be my pal' said he;'I go to Nurnberg; we will reach it with full pouches. I'll learn yethe cul de boisand the cul de jatteand how to maundand chauntand patterand to raise swellingsand paint sores and ulcers on thybody would take in the divell.' I told him shiveringI'd liever diethan shame myself and my folk so."

Eli."Good lad! good lad!"

"Whywhat shame was it for such as I to turn beggar? Beggary was anancient and most honourable mystery. What did holy monksandbishopsand kingswhen they would win Heaven's smile? whywash thefeet of beggarsthose favourites of the saints. 'The saints were nofools' he told me. Then he did put out his foot. 'Look at thatthatwas washed by the greatest king aliveLouisof Francethe lastHoly Thursday that was. And the next dayFridayclapped in thestocks by the warden of a petty hamlet.' So I told him my foot shouldwalk between such high honour and such low disgraceon the same pathof honestyplease God. Well thensince I had not spirit to beghewould indulge my perversity. I should work under himhe be the headI the fingers. And with that he set himself up like a judgeon aheap of dust by the road's sideand questioned me strictly what Icould do. I began to say I was strong and willing. 'Ba!' said he'sois an ox. Saywhat canst do that Sir Ox cannot?' I could write; Ihad won a prize for it. 'Canst write as fast as the printers?' quo'hejeering. 'What else?' I could paint. 'That was better.' I waslike to tear my hair to hear him say soand me going to Rome towrite. I could twang the psaltery a bit. 'That was well. Could I tellstories?' Ayby the score. 'Then' said he'I hire you from thismoment.' 'What to do?' said I. 'Nought crookedSir Candour' sayshe. 'I will feed thee all the way and find thee work; and take halfthine earningsno more.' 'Agreed' said Iand gave my hand on it'Nowservant' said he'we will dine. But ye need not stand behindmy chairfor two reasons - first I ha' got no chair; and nextgoodfellowship likes me better than state.' And out of his wallet hebrought fleshfowland pastrya good dozen of spices lapped inflax paperand wine fit for a king. Ne'er feasted I better than outof this beggar's walletnow my master. When we had well eaten I wasfor going on. 'But' said he'servants should not drive theirmasters too hardespecially after feedingfor then the body is forreposeand the mind turns to contemplation;' and he lay on his backgazing calmly at the skyand presently wondered whether there wereany beggars up there. I told him I knew but of onecalled Lazarus.'Could he do the cul de jatte better than I?' said heand lookedquite jealous like. I told him nay; Lazarus was honestthough abeggarand fed daily of the crumbs fal'n from a rich man's tableand the dogs licked his sores. 'Servant' quo' he'I spy a foulfault in thee. Thou liest without discretion: now the end of lyingbeing to gullthis is no better than fumbling with the divell'stail. I pray Heaven thou mayest prove to paint better than thoucuttest whidsor I am done out of a dinner. No beggar eats crumbsbut only the fat of the land; and dogs lick not a beggar's soresbeing made with spearwortor ratsbaneor biting acidsfrom allwhich dogsand even pigsabhor. My sores are made after my properreceipt; but no dog would lick e'en them twice. I have made a scurvybargain: art a cozening knaveI doubtas well as a nincompoop.' Ideigned no reply to this bundle of lieswhich did accuse heavenlytruth of falsehood for not being in a tale with him. He rose and wetook the road; and presently we came to a place where were two littlewayside innsscarce a furlong apart. 'Halt' said my master. 'Theirarmories are sore faded - all the better. Go thou in; shun themaster; board the wife; and flatter her inn sky highall but thearmoriesand offer to colour them dirt cheap.' So I went in and toldthe wife I was a painterand would revive her armories cheap; butshe sent me away with a rebuff. I to my master. He groaned. 'Ye areall fingers and no tongue' said he; 'I have made a scurvy bargain.Come and hear me patter and flatter.' Between the two inns was a highhedge. He goes behind it a minute and comes out a decent tradesman.We went on to the other innand then I heard him praise it sofulsome as the very wife did blush. 'But' says he'there is onelittlelittle fault; your armories are dull and faded. Say but thewordand for a silver franc my apprentice herethe cunningest e'erI hadshall make them bright as ever. Whilst she hesitatedtherogue told her he had done it to a little inn hard byand now theinn's face was like the starry firmament. 'D'ye hear thatmy man?'cries she'"The Three Frogs" have been and painted uptheir armories; shall "The Four Hedgehogs" be outshone bythem?' So I paintedand my master stood by like a lordadvising mehow to doand winking to me to heed him noneand I got a silverfranc. And he took me back to 'The Three Frogs' and on the way putme on a beard and disguised meand flattered 'The Three Frogs' andtold them how he had adorned 'The Four Hedgehogs' and into the netjumped the three poor simple frogsand I earned another silverfranc. Then we went on and he found his crutchesand sent meforwardand showed his "cicatrices d'emprunt" as hecalled themand all his infirmitiesat 'The Four Hedgehogs' andgot both food and money. 'Comeshare and share' quoth he: so I gavehim one franc. 'I have made a good bargain' said he. 'Art a masterlimnerbut takest too much time.' So I let him know that in mattersof honest craft things could not be done quick and well. 'Then dothem quick' quoth he. And he told me my name was Bon Bec; and Imight call him Cul de Jattebecause that was his lay at our firstmeeting. And at the next town my masterCul de Jattebought me apsalteryand set himself up again by the roadside in state like himthat erst judged Marsyas and Apollopiping for vain glory. So Iplayed a strain. 'Indifferent wellharmonious Bon Bec' said hehaughtily. 'Now tune thy pipes.' So I did sing a sweet strain thegood monks taught me; and singing it reminded poor Bon BecGerarderstof his young days and homeand brought the water to my een.But looking upmy master's visage was as the face of a little boywhipt soundlyor sipping foulest medicine. 'Zoundsstop thatbellyache blether' quoth he'that will ne'er wile a stiver out o'peasants' purses; 'twill but sour the nurses' milkand gar the kinejump into rivers to be out of earshot on't. Whatfalse knavedid Ibuy thee a fine new psaltery to be minded o' my latter end withal?Hearken! these be the songs that glad the heartand fill theminstrel's purse.' And he sung so blasphemous a staveand eke soobsceneas I drew away from him a space that the lightning might notspoil the new psaltery. Howevernone camebeing winterand then Isaid'Masterthe Lord is debonair. Held I the thunderyon ribaldryhad been thy lastthou foul-mouthed wretch.'

"'WhyBon Becwhat is to do?' quoth he. 'I have made an ill bargain. Ohperverse heartthat turneth from doctrine.' So I bade him keep hisbreath to cool his brothne'er would I shame my folk with singingribald songs. 'Then' says he sulkily'the first fire we light bythe waysideclap thou on the music box! so 'twill make our pot boilfor the nonce; but with your
Good peoplelet us peak andpine
Cut tristful mugsand miaul and whine
Thorough our nosenchaunts divine nevernevernever. Ye might as well go throughLorraine cryingMulleygrubsMulleygrubswho'll buy myMulleygrubs!' So we fared onbad friends. But I took a thoughtandprayed him hum me one of his naughty ditties again. Then hebrightenedand broke forth into ribaldry like a nightingale. Fingerin ears stuffed I. 'No words; naught but the bare melody.' For ohMargaretnote the sly malice of the Evil One! Still to the scurviestmatter he wedded the tunablest ditties."

Catherine."That is true as Holy Writ."

Sybrandt."How know you thatmother?"

Cornelis."He! he! he!"

Eli."Whishtye uneasy wightsand let me hear the boy. He is wiserthan ye; wiser than his years."

"'Whattomfoolery is this' said he; yet he yielded to meand soon Igarnered three of his melodies; but I would not let Cul de Jatte wotthe thing I meditated. 'Show not fools nor bairns unfinished work'saith the byword. And by this time 'twas nightand a little town athandwhere we went each to his inn; for my master would not yield toput off his rags and other sores till morning; nor I to enter an innwith a tatterdemalion. So we were to meet on the road at peep of day.and indeedwe still lodged apartmeeting at morn and parting at eveoutside each town we lay at. And waking at midnight and cogitatinggood thoughts came down to meand sudden my heart was enlightened. Icalled to mind that my Margaret had withstood the taking of theburgomaster's purse. ''Tis theft' said you; 'disguise it how yewill.' But I must be wiser than my betters; and now that which I hadas good as stolenothers had stolen from me. As it came so it wasgone. Then I said'Heaven is not cruelbut just;' and I vowed avowto repay our burgomaster every shilling an' I could. And I wentforth in the morning sadbut hopeful. I felt lighter for the pursebeing gone. My master was at the gate becrutched. I told him I'dliever have seen him in another disguise. 'Beggars must not bechoosers' said he. Howeversoon he bade me untruss himfor he feltsadly. His head swam. I told him forcefully to deform nature thuscould scarce be wholesome. He answered none; but looked scaredandhand on head. By-and-by he gave a groanand rolled on the groundlike a balland writhed sore. I was scaredand wist not what to dobut went to lift him; but his trouble rose higher and higherhegnashed his teeth fearfullyand the foam did fly from his lips; andpresently his body bended itself like a bowand jerked and boundedmany times into the air. I exorcised him; it but made him worse.There was water in a ditch hard bynot very clear; but the poorcreature struggling between life and deathI filled my hat withaland came flying to souse him. Then my lord laughed in my face. 'ComeBon Becby thy white gillsI have not forgotten my trade.' I stoodwith watery hat in handglaring. 'Could this be feigning?' 'Whatelse?' said he. 'Whya real fit is the sorriest thing; but a strokewith a feather compared with mine. Art still betters nature.' 'Butlooke'en now blood trickleth from your nose' said I. 'Ayaypricked my nostrils with a straw.' 'But ye foamed at the lips.' 'Oha little soap makes a mickle foam.' And he drew out a morsel like abean from his mouth. 'Thank thy starsBon Bec' says he'forleading thee to a worthy master. Each day his lesson. To-morrow wewill study the cul de bois and other branches. To-dayown me princeof demoniacsand indeed of all good fellows.' Thenbeing puffed uphe forgot yesterday's grudgeand discoursed me freely of beggars;and gave mewho eftsoons thought a beggar was a beggarand there anendthe names and qualities of full thirty sorts of masterful andcrafty mendicants in France and Germany and England; his threeprovinces; for so the poorproud knave yclept those kingdoms three;wherein his throne it was the stocks I ween. And outside the nextvillage one had gone to dinnerand left his wheelbarrow. So says he'I'll tie myself in a knotand shalt wheel me through; and what withmy crippledom and thy pietya-wheeling of thy poor old dadwe'llbleed the bumpkins of a dacha-saltee.' I did refuse. I would work forhim; but no hand would have in begging. 'And wheeling an "asker"in a barrowis not that work?' said he; 'then fling yon muckle stonein to boot: stayI'll soil it a bitand swear it is a chip of theholy sepulchre; and you wheeled us both from Jerusalem.' Said I'Wheeling a pair o' liesone stonyone fleshymay be workandhard workbut honest work 'tis not. 'Tis fumbling with his tail youwot of. And' said I'masternext time you go to tempt me toknaveryspeak not to me of my poor old dad.' Said I'You haveminded me of my real father's facethe truest man in Holland. He andI are ill friends nowworse luck.

Butthough I offend him shame him I never will.' Dear Margaretwith thisknave' saying'your poor old dad' it had gone to my heart like aknife. ''Tis well' said my master gloomily; 'I have made a badbargain.' Presently he haltsand eyes a tree by the wayside. 'Gospell me what is writ on yon tree.' So I wentand there was noughtbut a long square drawn in outline. I told him so. 'So much for thymonkish lore' quoth he. A little fartherand he sent me to read awall. There was nought but a circle scratched on the stone with apoint of nail or knifeand in the circle two dots. I said so Thensaid he'Bon Becthat square was a warning. Some good Truand leftitthat came through this village faring west; that means"dangerous." The circle with the two dots was writ byanother of our brotherhood; and it signifies as how the writersoitRollin Trapusoit Tribouletsoit Catin Cul de Boisor what notwas becked for asking hereand lay two months in Starabin.' Then hebroke forth. 'Talk: of your little snivelling books that go in pouch.Three hooks have IFranceEnglandand Germany; and they are writall over in one tonguethat my brethren of all countries understand;and that is what I call learning. So sith here they whip soresandimprison infirmitiesI to my tiring room.' And he popped behind thehedgeand came back worshipful. We passed through the villageand Isat me down on the stocksand even the barber's apprentice whets hisrazor on a blockso did I flesh my psaltery on this villagefearinggreat cities. I tuned itand coursed up and down the wires nimblywith my two wooden strikers; and then chanted loud and clearas Ihad heard the minstrels of the country
'Qui veut ouir qui veutSavoir' some trashI mind not what. And soon the villagersmaleand femalethronged about me; thereat I left singingand recitedthem to the psaltery a short but right merry tale out of 'the livesof the saints' which it is my handbook of pleasant figments and thisendedinstantly struck up and whistled one of Cul de Jatte's devil'sdittiesand played it on the psaltery to boot. Thou knowest Heavenhath bestowed on me a rare whistleboth for compass and tune. Andwith me whistling bright and full this sprightly airand making thewires slow when the tune did gallopand tripping when the tune didambleor I did stop and shake on one note like a lark i' the airthey were like to eat me; but looking roundlo! my master had givenway to his itchand there was his hat on the groundand copperpouring in. I deemed it cruel to whistle the bread out of poverty'spouch; so broke off and away; yet could not get clear so swiftbutboth men and women did slobber me soreand smelled all of garlic.'Theremaster' said I'I call that cleaving the divell in twainand keeping his white half.' Said he'Bon BecI have made a goodbargain.' Then he bade me stay where I was while he went to the HolyLand. I stayedand he leaped the churchyard dikeand the sexton wasdigging a graveand my master chaffered with himand came back witha knuckle bone. But why he clept a churchyard Holy Landthat Ilearned not thenbut after dinner. I was colouring the armories of alittle inn; and he sat by me most peaceablea cuttingand filingand polishing bonessedately; so I speered was not honest worksweet? 'As rain water' said hemocking. 'What was he a making?' 'Apair of bones to play on with thee; and with the refuse a St.Anthony's thumb and a St. Martin's little fingerfor the devout.'The vagabone! And nowsweet Margaretthou seest our manner of lifefaring Rhineward. I with the two arts I had least prized or countedon for bread was welcome everywhere; too poor now to fear robbersyet able to keep both master and man on the road. For at night Ioften made a portraiture of the innkeeper or his dameand so wentricher from an inn; the which it is the lot of few. But my masterdespised this even way of life. 'I love ups and downs' said he. Andcertes he lacked them not. One day he would gather more than I inthree; anotherto hear his taleit had rained kicks all day in lieuof 'saltees' and that is pennies. Yet even then at heart he despisedme for a poor mechanical souland scorned my artsextolling hisownthe art of feigning.

"Nathelessat odd times was he ill at his ease. Going through the town of Aixwe came upon a beggar walkingfast by one hand to a cart-tailandthe hangman a lashing his bare bloody back. Hestout knavesowhiptdid not a jot relent; but I did wince at every stroke; and mymaster hung his head.

"'Soonor lateBon Bec' quoth he. 'Soon or late.' Iseeing his haggardfaceknew what he meaned. And at a town whose name hath slipped mebut 'twas on a fair riveras we came to the foot of the bridge hehaltedand shuddered. 'Why what is the coil?' said I. 'Ohblind'said he'they are justifying there.' So nought would serve him buttake a boatand cross the river by water. But 'twas out of thefrying-panas the word goeth. For the boatman had scarce told us thematterand that it was a man and a woman for stealing glazed windowsout of housenand that the man was hanged at daybreakand the queanto be drownedwhen lo! they did fling her off the bridgeand fellin the water not far from us. And oh! Margaretthe deadly splash! Itringeth in mine ears even now. But worse was coming; forthoughtiedshe came up. and cried 'Help! help!' and Iforgetting allandhearing a woman's voice cry 'Help!' was for leaping in to save her;and had surely done itbut the boatman and Cul de Jatte clung roundmeand in a moment the bourreau's manthat waited in a beatcameand entangled his hooked pole in her long hairand so thrust herdown and ended her. Oh! if the saints answered so our cries for help!And poor Cul de Jatte groaned; and I sat sobbingand beat my breastand cried'Of what hath God made men's hearts?'"

Thereader stoppedand the tears trickled down her cheeks. Gerard cryingin Lorrainemade her cry at Rotterdam. The leagues were no more toher heart than the breadth of a room.

Elisoftened by many touches in the letterand by the reader's womanlygracessaid kindly enough"Take thy timelass. And methinkssome of ye might find her a creepie to rest her footand she so nearher own trouble."

"I'ddo more for her than that an I durst" said Catherine. "HereCornelis" and she held out her little wooden stooland thatworthywho hated Margaret worse than everhad to take the creepieand put it carefully under her foot.

"Youare very kinddame" she faltered. "I will read on; 'tisall I can do for you in turn.

"Thusseeing my master ashy and sore shakenI deemed this horrible tragicact came timeously to warn himso I strove sore to turn him from hisill waysdiscoursing of sinners and their lethal end. 'Too late!'said he'too late!' and gnashed his teeth. Then I told him 'toolate' was the divell's favourite whisper in repentant ears. Said I-
'The Lord is debonair
Let sinners nought despair.'

'Toolate!' said heand gnashed his teethand writhed his faceasthough vipers were biting his inward parts. Butdear hearthis wasa mind like running water. Ere we cleared the town he was carollingand outside the gate hung the other culpritfrom the bough of alittle treeand scarce a yard above the ground. And that stayed myvagabone's music. But ere we had gone another furlonghe feigned tohave dropped hisrosaryand ran backwith no good intentas youshall hear. I strolled on very slowlyand often haltingandpresently he came stumping up on one legand that bandaged. I askedhim how he could contrive thatfor 'twas masterly done. 'Ohthatwas his mystery. Would I know thatI must join the brotherhood.' Andpresently we did pass a narrow laneand at the mouth on't espied awritten stonetelling beggars by a word like a wee pitchfork to gothat way. ''Tis yon farmhouse' said he: 'bide thou at hand.' And hewent to the houseand came back with moneyfoodand wine. 'Thislad did the business' said heslapping his one leg proudly. Then heundid the bandageand with prideful face showed me a hole in hiscalf you could have put your neef in. Had I been strange to histrickshere was a leg had drawn my last penny. Presently anotherfarmhouse by the road. He made for it. I stoodand asked myselfshould I run away and leave himnot to be shamed in my own despiteby him? But while I doubtedthere was a great noiseand my masterwell cudgelled by the farmer and his mencame towards me hobblingand holloaingfor the peasants had laid on heartily. But moretrouble was at his heels. Some mischievous wight loosed a dog as bigas a jackass coltand came roaring after himand downed himmomently. Ideeming the poor rogue's death certainand him leastfit to diedrew my sword and ran shouting. But ere I could comenearthe muckle dog had torn away his bad legand ran growling tohis lair with it; and Cul de Jatte slipped his knotand came runninglike a lapwingwith his hair on endand so striking with bothcrutches before and behind at unreal dogs as 'twas like a windmillcrazed. He fled adown the road. I followed leisurelyand found himat dinner. 'Curse the quiens' said he. And not a word all dinnertime but 'Curse the quiens!'

"IsaidI must know who' they werebefore I would curse them.

"'Quiens?whythat was dogs. And I knew not even that much? He had made a badbargain. Wellwell' said he'to-morrow we shall be in Germany.There the folk are music bittenand they molest not beggarsunlessthey fake to bootand then they drown us out of hand that momentcurse 'em!' We came to Strasbourg. And I looked down Rhine withlonging heart. The stream how swift! It seemed running to clipSevenbergen to its soft bosom. With but a piece of timber and an oarI might drift at my ease to theesleeping yet gliding still. 'Twas asore temptation. But the fear of an ill welcome from my folkand ofthe neighbours' sneersand the hope of coming back to theevictoriousnotas now I mustdefeated and shamedand thee withmeit did withhold me; and sowith many sighsand often turning ofthe head to look on beloved RhineI turned sorrowful face and heavyheart towards Augsburg."

"Alasdamealas! Good master Eliforgive me! But I ne'er can win overthis part all at one time. It taketh my breath away. Welladay! Whydid he not listen to his heart? Had he not gone through peril enowsorrow enow? Well-a-day! well-a-day!"

Theletter dropped from her handand she drooped like a wounded lily.

Thenthere was a clatter on the floorand it was little Kate going on hercrutcheswith flushed faceand eyes full of pityto console her."Watermother" she cried. "I am afeared she shallswoon."

"Naynayfear me not" said Margaret feebly. "I will not be sotroublesome. Thy good-will it maketh me stouter heartedsweetmistress Kate. Forif thou carest how I faresure Heaven is notagainst me."

Catherine."D'ye hear thatmy man!"

Eli."AywifeI hear; and mark to boot."

LittleKate went back to her placeand Margaret read on.

"TheGermans are fonder of armorials than the French. So I found workevery day. And whiles I wroughtmy master would leave meand doffhis raiment and don his ragsand other infirmitiesand cozen theworldwhich he did clepe it 'plucking of the goose:' this donewould meet me and demand half my earnings; and with restless piercingeye ask me would I be so base as cheat my poor master by making threeparts in lieu of twotill I threatened to lend him a cuff to boot inrequital of his suspicion; and thenceforth took his duewith feignedconfidence in my good faiththe which his dancing eye belied. Earlyin Germany we had a quarrel. I had seen him buy a skull of a jailer'swifeand mighty zealous a polishing it. Thought I'How can he carryyon mementoand not repentseeing where ends his way?' Presently Idid catch him selling it to a woman for the head of St. Barnabaswith a tale had cozened an Ebrew. So I snatched it out of theirhandsand trundled it into the ditch. 'Howthou impious knave'said I'wouldst sell for a saint the skull of some dead thiefthybrother?' He slunk away. But shallow she did crawl after the skulland with apron reverently dust it for Barnabasand it Barabbas; andso home with it. Said I'Non vult anser vellised populus vultdecipi.'"

Catherine."Ohthe goodly Latin!"

Eli."What meaneth it?"

Catherine."NayI know not; but 'tis Latin; is not that enow? He was theflower of the flock."

"ThenI to him'Take now thy psalteryand part we herefor art a walkingprisona walking hell.' But lo! my master fell on his kneesandbegged me for pity's sake not turn him off. 'What would become ofhim? He did so love honesty.' 'Thou love honesty?' said I. 'Ay' saidhe'not to enact it; the saints forbid. But to look on. 'Tis so faira thing to look on. Alasgood Bon Bec' said he; 'hadst starvedperadventure but for me. Kick not down thy ladder! Call ye that just?Naycalm thy choler! Have pity on me! I must have a pal; and howcould I bear one like myself after one so simple as thou? He mightcut my throat for the money that is hid in my belt. 'Tis not much;'tis not much. With thee I walk at mine ease; with a sharp I dare notgo before in a narrow way. Alas! forgive me. Now I know where in thybonnet lurks the beeI will ware his sting; I will but pluck thesecular goose. 'So be it' said I. 'And example was contagious: heshould be a true man by then we reached Nurnberg. 'Twas a long way toNurnberg.' Seeing him so humbleI said'welldoff ragsand makethyself decent; 'twill help me forget what thou art.' And he did so;and we sat down to our nonemete. Presently came by a reverend palmerwith hat stuck round with cockle shells from Holy Landand greatrosary of beads like eggs of tealand sandals for shoes. And heleaned a-weary on his long staffand offered us a shell apiece. Mymaster would none. But Ito set him a better exampletook oneandfor it gave the poor pilgrim two batzenand had his blessing. And hewas scarce gonewhen we heard savage criesand came a sorry sightone leading a wild woman in a chainall rags and howling like awolf. And when they came nigh usshe fell to tearing her rags tothreads. The man sought an alms of usand told us his hard case.'Twas his wife stark raving mad; and he could not work in the fieldsand leave her in his house to fire itnor cure her could be withoutthe Saintys' helpand had vowed six pounds of wax to St. Anthony toheal herand so was fain beg of charitable folk for the money. Andnow she espied usand flew at me with her long nailsand I was coldwith fearso devilish showedher face and rolling eyes and nailslike birdys talons. But he with the chain checked her suddenandwith his whip did cruelly lash her for itthat I cried'Forbear!forbear! She knoweth not what she doth;' and gave him a batz. Andbeing gonesaid I'Masterof those twain I know not which is themore pitiable.' And he laughed in my face'Behold thy justiceBonBec' said he. 'Thou railest on thy poorgoodwithin an ace ofhonest masterand bestowest alms on a "vopper."' 'Vopper'said I'what is a vopper?' 'whya trull that feigns madness. Thatwas one of usthat sham maniacand wow but she did it clumsily. Iblushed for her and thee. Also gavest two batzen for a shell fromHoly Landthat came no farther than Normandy. I have culled themmyself on that coast by scoresand sold them to pilgrims true andpilgrims falseto gull flats like thee withal.' 'What!' said I;'that reverend man?' 'One of us!' cried Cul de Jatte; 'one of us! InFrance we call them "Coquillarts" but here "Calmierers."Railest on me for selling a false relic now and thenand wastest thyearnings on such as sell nought else. I tell theeBon Bec' said he'there is not one true relic on earth's face. The Saints died athousand years agoneand their bones mixed with the dust; but thetrade in relicsit is of yesterday; and there are forty thousandtramps in Europe live by it; selling relics of forty or fifty bodies;ohthreadbare lie! And of the true Cross enow to build CologneMinster. Whythenmay not poor Cul de Jatte turn his penny with thecrowd? Art but a scurvy tyrannical servant to let thy poor masterfrom his share of the swag with your whoreson pilgrimspalmers andfriarsblackgreyand crutched; for all these are of ourbrotherhoodand of our artonly masters theyand we but poorapprenticesin guild.' For his tongue was an ell and a half.

"'Atruce to thy irreverend sophistries' said I'and say what companyis this a coming.' 'Bohemians' cried he'Ayaythis shall be therest of the band.' With that came along so motley a crew as neveryour eyes behelddear Margaret. Marched at their head one with abanner on a steel-pointed lanceand girded with a great long swordand in velvet doublet and leathern jerkinthe which stuffs ne'er sawI wedded afore on mortal fleshand a gay feather in his lordly capand a couple of dead fowls at his backthe whichan the spark hadcome by honestlyI am much mistook. Him followed wives and babes ontwo lean horseswhose flanks still rattled like parchment drumbeing beaten by kettles and caldrons. Next an armed man a-riding of ahorsewhich drew a cart full of females and children; and in itsitting backwardsa lusty lazy knavelance in handwith hisluxurious feet raised on a holy water-pailthat lay alongandtherein a catnew kittenedsat glowing o'er her broodand sparksfor eyes. And the cart-horse cavalier had on his shoulders a roundbundleand thereon did perch a cock and crowed with zealpoorrufflerproud of his brave feathers as the restand haply with morereasonbeing his own. And on an ass another wife and new-born child;and one poor quean a-foot scarce dragged herself alongso near hertime was sheyet held two little ones by the handand helplesslyhelped them on the road. And the little folk were just a farce; somerode stickswith horses' headsbetween their legswhich prancedand caracoledand soon wearied the riders so sorethey stood stockstill and weptwhich cavaliers were presently taken into cart andcuffed. And onemore gravelost in a man's hat and featherwalkedin Egyptian darknesshanded by a girl; another had the greatsaucepan on his backand a tremendous three-footed clay-pot sat onhis head and shouldersswallowing him so as he too went darkling ledby his sweetheart three foot high. When they were gone byand we hadboth laughed lustilysaid I'Nathelessmastermy bowels theyyearn for one of that tawdry bandeven for the poor wife so near thedownlyingscarce able to drag herselfyet stillpoor soulhelpingthe weaker on the way.

Catherine."NaynayMargaret. Whywenchpluck up heart. Certes thou artno Bohemian."

Kate."Naymother'tis not thatI trowbut her father. Anddearheartwhy take notice to put her to the blush?"

Richart."So I say."

"Andhe derided me. 'Whythat is a "biltreger"' said he'andyou waste your bowels on a pillowor so forth.' I told him he lied.'Time would show' said he'wait till they camp.' And rising aftermeat and meditationand travelling forwardwe found them campedbetween two great trees on a common by the wayside; and they hadlighted a great fireand on it was their caldron; and one of thetrees slanting o'er the firea kid hung down by a chain from thetree-fork to the fireand in the fork was wedged an urchin turningstill the chain to keep the meat from burningand a gay spark with afeather in his cap cut up a sheep; and another had spitted a leg ofit on a wooden stake; and a woman ended chanticleer's pride withwringing of his neck. And under the other tree four rufflers playedat cards and quarrelledand no word sans oath; and of these lewdgamblers one had cockles in his hat and was my reverend pilgrim. Anda femaleyoung and comelyand dressed like a butterflysat andmended a heap of dirty rags. And Cul de Jatte said'Yon is the"vopper"' and I looked incredulous and looked againandit was soand at her feet sat he that had so late lashed her; but Iween he had wist where to strikeor woe betide him; and she did nowoppress him soreand made him thread her very needlethe which hedid with all humility; so was their comedy turned seamy side without;and Cul de Jatte told me 'twas still so with 'voppers' and their menin camp; they would don their bravery though but for an hourandwith their tinselempireand the man durst not the least gainsaythe 'vopper' or she would turn him off at these timesas I mymasterand take another tyrant more submissive. And my masterchuckled over me. Natheless we soon espied a wife set with her backagainst the treeand her hair downand her face whiteand by herside a wench held up to her eye a newborn babewith words of cheerand the rough fellowher husbanddid bring her hot wine in a cupand bade her take courage. And just o'er the place she satthey hadpinned from bough to bough of those neighbouring trees two shawlsand blankets twotogetherto keep the drizzle off her. And so hadanother poor little rogue come into the world; and by her ownparticular folk tended gipsywisebut of the roastersand boilersand voppersand gamblersno more noticednonot for a singlemomentthan sheep which droppeth her lamb in a fieldby travellersupon the way. Then said I'What of thy foul suspicionsmaster?over-knavery blinds the eye as well as over-simplicity.' And helaughed and said'TriumphBon Bectriumph. The chances were ninein ten against thee.' Then I did pity herto be in a crowd at such atime; but he rebuked me. 'I should pity rather your queens and royalduchesseswhich by law are condemned to groan in a crowd of noblesand courtiersand do writhe with shame aswell as sorrowbeingcome of decent motherswhereas these gipsy women have no more shameunder their skins than a wolf ruthor a hare valour. AndBon Bec'quoth he'I espy in thee a lamentable fault. Wastest thy bowels.wilt have none left for thy poor good master which doeth thy will bynight and day.' Then we came forward; and he talked with the men insome strange Hebrew cant whereof no word knew I; and the poor knavesbade us welcome and denied us nought. With themand all they had'twas lightly come and lightly go; and when we left themmy mastersaid to me 'This is thy first lessonbut to-night we shall lie atHansburgh. Come with me to the "rotboss" thereand I'll

showthee all our folk and their laysand especially "the lossners""the dutzers" "the schleppers" "thegickisses" "the schwanfelderswhom in England we call"shivering Jemmies" "the suntvegers" "theschwiegers" "the joners" "the sesseldegers""the gensscherers" in France "marcandiers orrifodes" "the veranerins" "the stabulers"with a few foreigners like ourselvessuch as "pietres""francmitoux" "polissons" "malingreux""traters" "rufflers" "whipjalks""dommerars" "glymmerars" "jarkmen""patricos" "swadders" "autem morts""walking morts" 'Enow' cried Istopping him'art asgleesome as the Evil One a counting of his imps. I'll jot down in mytablet all these caitiffs and their accursed names: for knowledge isknowledge. But go among themalive or deadthat will I not with mygood will. Moreover' said I'what need? since I have a companion inthee who is all the knaves on earth in one?' and thought to abash himbut his face shone with prideand hand on breast he did bow low tome. 'If thy wit be scantgood Bon Becthy manners are a charm. Ihave made a good bargain.' So he to the 'rotboss' and I to a decentinnand sketched the landlord's daughter by candle-lightandstarted at morn batzen three the richerbut could not find mymasterso loitered slowly onand presently met him coming west formeand cursing the quiens. Why so? Because he could blind the cullsbut not the quiens. At last I prevailed on him to leave cursing andcantingand tell me his adventure. Said he'I sat outside the gateof yon monasteryfull of soreswhich I sho'ed the passers-by. OhBon Becbeautifuller sores you never saw; and it rained coppers inmy hat. Presently the monks came home from some processionand theconvent dogs ran out to meet themcurse the quiens!' 'Whatdid theyfall on thee and bite theepoor soul?' 'Worseworsedear Bon Bec.Had they bitten me I had earned silver. But the great idiotsbeingas I thinkpuppiesor little betterfell on me where I satdownedmeand fell a licking my sores among them. As thoufalse knavedidst swear the whelps in heaven licked the sores of Lazybonesabeggar of old.' 'Naynay' said I'I said no such thing. But tellmesince they bit thee notbut sportfully licked theewhat harm?''What harmnoodle; whythe sores came off.' 'How could that be?''How could aught else be? and them just fresh put on. Did I think hewas so weak as bite holes in his flesh with ratsbane? Nayhe was anartista painterlike his servantand had put on sores made ofpig's bloodrye mealand glue. So when the folk saw my sores go ontongues of puppiesthey laughedand I saw cord or sack before me.So up I jumpedand shouted"A miracle a miracle! The very dogsof this holy convent be holyand have cured me. Good fathers"cried I"whose day is this?" "St. Isidore's"said one. "St. Isidore" cried Iin a sort of rapture."WhySt. Isidore is my patron saint: so that accounts."And the simple folk swallowed my miracle as those accursed quiens mywounds. But the monks took me inside and shut the gateand put theirheads together; but I have a quick earand one did say"Caretmiraculo monasterium" which is Greek patterleastways it is nobeggar's cant. Finally they bade the lay brethren give me a hidingand take me out a back way and put me on the roadand threatened medid I come back to the town to hand me to the magistrate and have medrowned for a plain impostor. "Profit now by the Church'sgrace" said they"and mend thy ways." So forwardBon Becfor my life is not sure nigh hand this town.' As we went heworked his shoulders'Wow but the brethren laid on. And what meansyon piece of monk's cantI wonder?' So I told him the words meant'the monastery is in want of a miracle' but the application thereofwas dark to me. 'Dark' cried he'dark as noon. Whyit means theyare going to work the miraclemy miracleand gather all the grain Isowed. Therefore these blows on their benefactor's shoulders;therefore is he that wrought their scurry miracle driven forth withstripes and threats. Ohcozening knaves!' Said I'Becomes you tocomplain of guile.' 'AlasBon Bec' said he'I but outwit thesimplebut these monks would pluck Lucifer of his wing feathers.'And went a league bemoaning himself that he was not convent-bred likehis servant 'He would put it to more profit;' and railing on quiens.'And as for those monksthere was one Above.' 'Certes' said I'there is one Above. What then?' 'Who will call those shavelings tocomptone day' quoth he. 'And all deceitful men' said I. At onethat afternoon I got armories to paint: so my master took the yellowjaundice and went begging through the townand with his oily tongueand saffron-water facedid fill his hat. Now in all the towns arecertain licensed beggarsand one of these was an old favourite withthe townsfolk: had his station at St. Martin's porchthe greatestchurch: a blind man: they called him blind Hans. He saw my masterdrawing coppers on the other side the streetand knew him by histricks for an impostorso sent and warned the constablesand I metmy master in the constables' handsand going to his trial in thetown hall. I followed and many more; and he was none abashedneitherby the pomp of justicenor memory of his misdeedsbut demanded hisaccuser like a trumpet. And blind Hans's boy came forwardbut wassifted narrowly by my masterand stammered and falteredand ownedhe had seen nothingbut only carried blind Hans's tale to the chiefconstable. 'This is but hearsay' said my master. 'Lo ye nowherestandeth Misfortune backbit by Envy. But stand thou forthblindEnvyand vent thine own lie.' And blind Hans behoved to stand forthsore against his will. Him did my master so press with questionsandso pinch and tortureasking him again and againhowbeing blindhe could see all that befelland some that befell notacross a way;and whyan he could not seehe came there holding up his perjuredhandand maligning the misfortunatethat at last he groaned aloudand would utter no word more. And an alderman said'In soothHansye are to blame; hast cast more dirt of suspicion on thyself than onhim.' But the burgomastera wondrous fat manand methinks of hisfat some had gotten into his headchecked himand said'NayHanswe know this many yearsand be he blind or nothe hath passed forblind so long'tis all one. Back to thy porchgood Hansand letthe strange varlet leave the town incontinent on pain of whipping.'Then my master winked to me; but there rose a civic officer in hisgown of state and golden chaina Dignity with us lightly prizedandeven shunned of somebut in Germany and France much courtedsave bycondemned malefactorsto wit the hangman; and says he'Ant pleaseyoufirst let us see why he weareth his hair so thick and low.' Andhis man went and lifted Cul de Jatte's hairand lothe uppergristle of both ears was gone. 'How is this knave? quoth theburgomaster. My master said carelesslyhe minded not precisely: hishad been a life of misfortunes and losses. When a poor soul has lostthe use of his legnoble sirsthese more trivial woes rest lightlyin his memory.' When he found this would not serve his turnhe namedtwo famous battlesin each of which he had lost half an earafighting like a true man against traitors and rebels. But the hangmanshowed them the two cuts were made at one timeand by measurement.''Tis no bungling soldiers' workmy masters' said he''tis ourn.'Then the burgomaster gave judgment: 'The present charge is not provenagainst thee; butan thou beest not guilty nowthou hast been atother timeswitness thine ears. Wherefore I send thee to prison forone monthand to give a florin towards the new hall of the guildsnow a buildingand to be whipt out of the townand pay thehangman's fee for the same.' And all the aldermen approvedand mymaster was haled to prison with one look of anguish. It did strike mybosom. I tried to get speech of himbut the jailer denied me. Butlingering near the jail I heard a whistleand there was Cul de Jatteat a narrow window twenty feet from earth. I went underand he askedme what made I there? I told him I was loath to go forward and notbid him farewell. He seemed quite amazed; but soon his suspicioussoul got the better. That was not all mine errand. I told him notall: the psaltery: 'Wellwhat of that?' 'Twas not minebut his; Iwould pay him the price of it. 'Then throw me a rix dollar' said he.I counted out my coinsand they came to a rix dollar and two batzen.I threw him up his money in three throwsand when he had got it allhe saidsoftly'Bon Bec.' 'Master' said I. Then the poor rogue wasgreatly moved. 'I thought ye had been mocking me' said he; 'ohBonBecBon Becif I had found the world like thee at starting I hadput my wit to better useand I had not lain here.' Then he whimperedout'I gave not quite a rix dollar for the jingler;' and threw meback that he had gone to cheat me of; honest for onceand over late;and sowith many sighsbade me Godspeed. Thus did my masterafteroften baffling men's justicefall by their injustice; for his lostears proved not his guilt onlybut of that guilt the bitterpunishment: so the account was even; yet they for his chastisementdid chastise him. Natheless he was a parlous rogue. Yet he holp tomake a man of me. Thanks to his good wit I went forward richer farwith my psaltery and brushthan with yon as good as stolen purse;for that must have run dry in timelike a big troughbut these alittle fountain."

Richart."How pregnant his reflections be; and but a curly pated lad whenlast I saw him. Asking your pardonmistress. Prithee read on."

"Oneday I walked aloneand sooth to saylightheartedfor mine honestDenys sweetened the air on the way; but poor Cul de Jatte poisonedit. The next day passing a grand houseout came on prancing steeds agentleman in brave attire and two servants; they overtook me. Thegentleman bade me halt. I laughed in my sleeve; for a few batzen wereall my store. He bade me doff my doublet and jerkin. Then I chuckledno more. 'Bethink youmy lord' said I''tis winter. How may a poorfellow go bare and live? So he told me I shot mine arrow wide of histhoughtand off with his own gay jerkinrichly furredand doubletto matchand held them forth to me. Then a servant let me know itwas a penance. 'His lordship had had the ill luck to slay his cousinin their cups.' Down to my shoes he changed with me; and set me onhis horse like a popinjayand fared by my side in my worn weedswith my psaltery on his back. And said he'Nowgood youththou artCousin Detstein; and Ilate countthy Servant. Play the part welland help me save my bloodstained soul! Be haughty and cholericasany noble; and I will be as humble as I may.' I said I would do mybest to play the noble. But what should I call him? He bade me callhim nought but Servant. That would mortify him mosthe wist. We rodeon a long way in silence; for I was meditating this strange chancethat from a beggar's servant had made me master to a countand alsocudgelling my brains how best I might play the masterwithout beingrun through the body all at one time like his cousin. For Imistrusted sore my spark's humility; your German nobles beingto myknowledgeproud as Luciferand choleric as fire. As for theservantsthey did slily grin to one another to see their master sohumbled

"Whatis that?"

Alumpas of leadhad just bounced against the doorand the latchwas fumbled with unsuccessfully. Another bounceand the door swunginwards with Giles arrayed in cloth of gold sticking to it like awasp. He landed on the floorand was embraced; but on learning whatwas going ontrumpeted that he would much liever hear of Gerard thangossip.

Sybrandtpointed to a diminutive chair.

Gilesshowed his sense of this civility by tearing the said Sybrandt out ofa very big oneand there ensconced himself gorgeous and glowing.Sybrandt had to wedge himself into the onewhich was too small forthe magnificent dwarf's souland Margaret resumed. But as this partof the letter was occupied with notices of placesall which myreader probably knowsand if notcan find handled at large in adozen well-known booksfrom Munster to MurrayI skip thetopographyand hasten to that part where it occurred to him to throwhis letter into a journal. The personal narrative that intervened maybe thus condensed.

Hespoke but little at first to his new companionsbut listened to pickup their characters. Neither his noble Servant nor his servants couldread or write; and as he often made entries in his tabletsheimpressed them with some awe. One of his entries was"Le peuque sont les hommes." For he found the surly innkeepers lickedthe very ground before him now; nor did a soul suspect the hosier'sson in the count's feathersnor the count in the minstrel's weeds.

Thisseems to have surprised him; for he enlarged on it with the naiveteand pomposity of youth. At one placebeing humbly requested topresent the inn with his armorial bearingshe consented loftily; butpainted them himselfto mine host's wonderwho thought he loweredhimself by handling brush. The true count stood grinning byand heldthe paint-potwhile the sham count painted the shield with three redherrings rampant under a sort of Maltese cross made with twoell-measures. At first his plebeian servants were insolent. But thiscoming to the notice of his noble onehe forgot what he was doingpenance forand drew his sword to cut off their earsheadsincluded. But Gerard interposed and saved themand rebuked the countseverely. And finally they all understood one anotherand thesuperior mind obtained its natural influence. He played the barbarousnoble of that day vilely. For his heart would not let him be eithertyrannical or cold. Here were three human beings. He tried to makethem all happier than he was; held them ravished with stories andsongsand set Herr Penitent and Co. dancing with his whistle andpsaltery. For his own convenience he made them ride and tieand thuspushed rapidly through the countrytravelling generally fifteenleagues a day.

DIARY.

"Thisfirst day of January I observed a young man of the country to meet astrange maidenand kissed his handand then held it out to her. Shetook it with a smileand lo! acquaintance made; and babbled like oldfriends. Greeting so pretty and delicate I ne'er did see. Yet werethey both of the baser sort. So the next lass I saw a comingI saidto my servant lord'For further penance bow thy pride; go meet yonbase-born girl; kiss thy homicidal handand give it herand holdher in discourse as best ye may.' And my noble Servant said humbly'I shall obey my lord.' And we drew rein and watched while he wentforwardkissed his hand and held it out to her. Forthwith she tookit smilingand was most affable with himand he with her. Presentlycame up a band of her companions. So this time I bade him doff hisbonnet to themas though they were empresses; and he did so. And lo!the lasses drew up as stiff as hedgestakesand moved not nor spake."

Denys."Aie! aie! aie Pardonthe company."

"Thissurprised me none; for so they did discountenance poor Denys. Andthat whole day I wore in experimenting these German lasses; and 'twasstill the same. An ye doff bonnet to them they stiffen into statues;distance for distance. But accost them with honest freedomand withthat customaryand though rusticalmost gracious profferof thekissed handand they withhold neither their hands in turn nor theiracquaintance in an honest way. Seeing which I vexed myself that Denyswas not with us to prattle with them; he is so fond of women."("Are you fond of womenDenys?") And the reader opened twogreat violet eyes upon him with gentle surprise.

Denys."Ahem! he says soshe-comrade. By Hannibal's helmet'tis theirfaultnot mine. They will have such soft voicesand white skinsand sunny hairand dark blue eyesand

Margaret.(Reading suddenly.) "Which their affability I put to profitthus. I asked them how they made shift to grow roses in yule? Forknowdear Margaretthat throughout Germanythe baser sort oflasses wear for head-dress nought but a 'crantz' or wreath of rosesencircling their bare hairas laurel Caesar's; and though of theworshipfulscornedyet is braverI wistto your eye and minewhich painters bethough sorry onesthan the gorgeousuncouthmechanical head-gear of the timeand adornsnot hides her hairthat goodly ornament fitted to her head by craft divine. So the goodlassesbeing questioned closedid let me knowthe rosebuds are cutin summer and laid then in great clay-potsthus ordered:- first baysaltthen a row of budsand over that row bay salt sprinkled; thenanother row of buds placed crosswise; for they say it is death to thebuds to touch one another; and so onbuds and salt in layers. Theneach pot is covered and soldered tightand kept in cool cellar. Andon Saturday night the master of the houseor mistressif master benoneopens a potand doles the rosebuds out to every female in thehousehigh or lowwithouten grudge; then solders it up again. Andsuch as of these buds would full-blown roses makeput them in warmwater a little spaceor else in the stoveand then with tiny brushand softwetted in Rhenish winedo coax them till they ope theirfolds. And some perfume them with rose-water. Foralacktheir smellit is fled with the summer; and only their fair bodyes lie withoutensoulin tomb of clayawaiting resurrection.

"Andsome with the roses and buds mix nutmegs gildedbut not by my goodwill; for goldbrave in itselfcheek by jowl with rosesis butyellow earth. And it does the eye's heart good to see these fairheads of hair comeblooming with rosesover snowy roadsand bysnow-capt hedgessetting winter's beauty by the side of summer'sglory. For what so fair as winter's liliessnow ycleptand what sobrave as roses? And shouldst have had a picture herebut for theirsuperstition. Leaned a lass in Sunday garbcross ankledagainst hercottage cornerwhose low roof was snow-cladand with her crantz didseem a summer flower sprouting from winter's bosom. I drew reinandout pencil and brush to limn her for thee. But the simpletonfearingthe evil eyeor glamourclaps both hands to her face and fliespanic-stricken. But indeedthey are not more superstitious than theSevenbergen folkwhich take thy father for a magician. Yet softlysith at this moment I profit by this darkness of their minds; foratfirstsitting down to write this diaryI could frame nor thoughtnor wordso harried and deaved was I with noise of mechanicalpersonsand hoarse laughter at dull jests of one of theseparticoloured 'fools' which are so rife in Germany. But ohsorrywitthat is driven to the poor resource of pointed ear-capsand agreen and yellow body. True witmethinksis of the mind. We met inBurgundy an honest wenchthough over free for my palateachambermaidhad made havoc of all these zaniesdroll by bruteforce. OhDigressor! Well thenI to be rid of roaring rusticallsand mindless jestsput my finger in a glass and drew on the table agreat watery circle; whereat the rusticalls did look askantlikevenison at a cat; and in that circle a smaller circle. The rusticallsheld their peace; and besides these circles cabalisticalI laid downon the table solemnly yon parchment deed I had out of your house. Therusticalls held their breath. Then did I look as glum as might beand muttered slowly thus 'Videamus - quam diu tu fictus morio -vosque veri stulti- audebitis - in hac aula moraristrepitantes ita- et olentes: ut dulcissimae nequeam miser scribere.' They shook likeaspensand stole away on tiptoe one by one at firstthen in a rushand jostlingand left me alone; and most scared of all was the fool:never earned jester fairer his ass's ears. So rubbed I their foiblewho first rubbed mine; for of all a traveller's foes I dread thosegiants twainSir Noiseand eke Sir Stench. The saints and martyrsforgive my peevishness. Thus I write to thee in balmy peaceand tellthee trivial things scarce worthy inkalso how I love theewhichthere was no need to tellfor well thou knowest it. And ohdearMargaretlooking on their roseswhich grew in summerbut blow inwinterI see the picture of our true affection; born it was insmiles and blissbut soon adversity beset us sore with many a bitterblast. Yet our love hath lost no leafthank Godbut blossoms fulland fair as everproof against frownsand jibesand prisonandbanishmentas those sweet German flowers a blooming in winter'ssnow.

"January2. - My servantthe countfinding me curioustook me to thestables of the prince that rules this part. In the first court was ahorse-bathadorned with twenty-two pillarsgraven with the prince'sarms; and also the horse-leech's shopso furnished as a richapothecary might envy. The stable is a fair quadranglewhereof threesides filled with horses of all nations. Before each horse's nose wasa glazed windowwith a green curtain to be drawn at pleasureand athis tail a thick wooden pillar with a brazen shieldwhence byturning of a pipe he is wateredand serves too for a cupboard tokeep his comb and rubbing clothes. Each rack was ironand eachmanger shining copperand each nag covered with a scarlet mantleand above him his bridle and saddle hungready to gallop forth in aminute; and not less than two hundred horseswhereof twelve score offoreign breed. And we returned to our inn full of admirationand thetwo varlets said sorrowfully'Why were we born with two legs?' Andone of the grooms that was civil and had of me trinkgeldstood nowat his cottage-door and asked us in. There we found his wife andchildren of all agesfrom five to eighteenand had but one room tobide and sleep ina thing pestiferous and most uncivil. Then I askedmy Servantknew he this prince? Aydid heand had often drunk withhim in a marble chamber above the stablewherefor tablewas acurious and artificial rockand the drinking vessels hang on itspinnaclesand at the hottest of the engagement a statue of ahorseman in bronze came forth bearing a bowl of liquorand he thatsat nearest behoved to drain it. ''Tis well' said I: 'now for thypenancewhisper thou in yon prince's earthat God hath given himhis people freelyand not sought a price for them as for horses. Andpray him look inside the huts at his horse-palace doorand bethinkhimself is it well to house his horsesand stable his folk.' Saidhe''Twill give sore offence.' 'But' said I'ye must do itdiscreetly and choose your time.' So he promised. And riding on weheard plaintive cries. 'Alas' said I'some sore mischance hathbefallen some poor soul: what may it be?' And we rode upand lo! itwas a wedding feastand the guests were plying the business ofdrinking sad and silentbut ever and anon cried loud and dolefully'Seyte frolich! Be merry.'

"January3. - Yesterday between Nurnberg and Augsburg we parted company. Igave my lordlate Servantback his brave clothes for minebut hishorse he made me keepand five gold piecesand said he was still mydebtorhis penance it had been slight along of mebut profitable.But his best word was this: 'I see 'tis more noble to be loved thanfeared.' And then he did so praise me as I blushed to put on paper;yetpoor foolwould fain thou couldst hear his wordsbut from someother pen than mine. And the servants did heartily grasp my handandwish me good luck. And riding apaceyet could I not reach Augsburgtill the gates were closed; but it mattered littlefor this Augsburgit is an enchanted city. For a small coin one took me a long wayround to a famous postern called der Einlasse. Here stood twoguardianslike statues. To them I gave my name and business. Theynodded me leave to knock; I knocked; and the iron gate opened with agreat noise and hollow rattling of a chainbut no hand seen norchain; and he who drew the hidden chain sits a butt's length from thegate; and I rode inand the gate closed with a clang after me. Ifound myself in a great building with a bridge at my feet. This Irode over and presently came to a porter's lodgewhere one asked meagain my name and businessthen rang a belland a great portcullisthat barred the way began to risedrawn by a wheel overheadand nohand seen. Behind the portcullis was a thick oaken door studded withsteel. It opened without handand I rode into a hall as dark aspitch. Trembling there a whilea door opened and showed me a smallerhall lighted. I rode into it: a tin goblet came down from the ceilingby a little chain: I put two batzen into itand it went up again.Being goneanother thick door creaked and openedand I rid through.It closed on me with a tremendous clangand behold me in Augsburgcity. I lay at an inn called 'The Three Moors' over an hundred yearsold; and this morningaccording to my way of viewing towns to learntheir compass and shapeI mounted the highest tower I could findand setting my dial at my foot surveyed the beautiful city: wholestreets of palaces and churches tiled with copper burnished likegold; and the house fronts gaily painted and all glazedand theglass so clean and burnished as 'tis most resplendent and rare; andInow first seeing a great citydid crow with delightand likecock on his ladderand at the tower foot was taken into custody fora spy; for whilst I watched the city the watchman had watched me. Theburgomaster received me courteously and heard my story; then rebukedhe the officers. 'Could ye not question him yourselvesor read inhis face? This is to make our city stink in strangers' report.' Thenhe told me my curiosity was of a commendable sort; and seeing I was acraftsman and inquisitivebade his clerk take me among the guilds.God bless the city where the very burgomaster is cut of Soloman'scloth!

"January5. - Dear Margaretit is a noble cityand a kind mother to arts.Here they cut in wood and ivorythat 'tis like spider's workandpaint on glassand sing angelical harmonies. Writing of books isquite gone by; here be six printers. Yet was I offered a bountifulwage to write fairly a merchant's accountsone Fuggera grand andwealthy traderand hath store of shipsyet his father was but apoor weaver. But here in commerceher very gardenmen swell likemushrooms. And he bought my horse of meand abated me not a jotwhich way of dealing is not known in Holland. But ohMargarettheworkmen of all the guilds are so kind and brotherly to one anotherand to me. HeremethinksI have found the true German mindloyalfrankand kindlysomewhat choleric withalbut nought revengeful.Each mechanic wears a sword. The very weavers at the loom sit girdedwith their weaponsand all Germans on too slight occasion draw themand fight; but no treachery: challenge firstthen drawand with theedge onlymostly the facenot with Sir Point; for if in thesecombats one thrust at his adversary and hurt him'tis called einschelemstuckea heinous actboth men and women turn their backs onhim; and even the judges punish thrusts bitterlybut pass over cuts.Hence in Germany be good store of scarred facesthree in five atleastand in France scarce more than one in three.

"Butin arts mechanical no citizens may compare with these. Fountains inevery street that play to heavenand in the gardens seeming treeswhich being approachedone standing afar touches a springand everytwig shoots waterand souses the guests to their host's muchdelectation. Big culverins of war they cast with no more ado than ourfolk horse-shoesand have done this fourscore years. All stuffs theyweaveand linen fine as ours at homeor nearlywhich elsewhere inEurope vainly shall ye seek. Sir Printing Press - sore foe to poorGerardbut to other humans beneficial - plieth by night and dayandcasteth goodly words like sower afield; while Ipoor foolcan butsow them as I saw women in France sow ryedribbling it in the furrowgrain by grain. And of their strange mechanical skill take twoexamples. For ending of exemplary rogues they have a figure like awomanseven feet highand called Jung Frau; but loa spring istouchedshe seizeth the poor wretch with iron armsand openingherselfhales him inside herand there pierces him through andthrough with two score lances. Secondlyin all great houses the spitis turned not by a scrubby boybut by smoke. Aymayst well admireand judge me a lying knave. These cunning Germans do set in thechimney a little windmilland the smoke struggling to wend pastturns itand from the mill a wire runs through the wall and turnsthe spit on wheels; beholding which I doffed my bonnet to the men ofAugsburgfor who but these had ere devised to bind ye so dark andsubtle a knave as Sir Smokeand set him to roast Dame Pullet?

"ThisdayJanuary 8with three craftsmen of the townI painted a pack ofcards. They were for a senatorin a hurry. I the diamonds. My queencame forth with eyes like spring violetshair a golden brownandwitching smile. My fellow-craftsmen saw herand put their arms roundmy neck and hailed me master. Ohnoble Germans! No jealousy of abrother-workman: no sour looks at a stranger; and would have me spendSunday with them after matins; and the merchant paid me so richly asI was ashamed to take the guerdon; and I to my innand tried topaint the queen of diamonds for poor Gerard; but noshe would notcome like again. Luck will not be bespoke. Ohhappy rich man thathath got her! Fie! fie! Happy Gerard that shall have herself one dayand keep house with her at Augsburg.

"January8. - With my fellowsand one Veit Stossa wood-carverand oneHafnagelof the goldsmiths' guildand their wives and lassestoHafnagel's cousina senator of this free cityand his stupendouswine-vessel. It is ribbed like a shipand hath been eighteen monthsin handand finished but nowand holds a hundred and fiftyhogsheadsand standeth notbut lieth; yet even so ye get not on hisbackwithouten ladders twoof thirty steps. And we sat about themiraculous massand drank Rhenish from itdrawn by a littleartificial pumpand the lasses pinned their crantzes to itand wedanced round itand the senator danced on its backbut withdrinking of so many garausseslost his footing and fell offglassin handand broke an arm and a leg in the midst of us. So scurvilyended our drinking bout for this time.

"January10. - This day started for Venice with a company of merchantsandamong them him who had desired me for his scrivener; and so we arenow agreedI to write at night the letters he shall dictand othermattershe to feed and lodge me on the road. We be many and armedand soldiers with us to bootso fear not the thieves which men saylie on the borders of Italy. But an if I find the printing press atVeniceI trow I shall not go unto Romefor man may not vie withiron.

"Imprimituna dies quantum non scribitur anno. Anddearestsomething tells meyou and I shall end our days at Augsburgwhence goingI shall leaveit all I can - my blessing.

"January12. - My master affecteth me muchand now maketh me sit with him inhis horse-litter. A grave good manof all respectedbut sad forloss of a dear daughterand loveth my psaltery: not giddy-faceddittiesbut holy harmonies such as Cul de Jatte made wry mouths at.So many menso many minds. But cooped in horse-litter and at nightwriting his lettersmy journal halteth.

"January14. - When not attending on my good merchantI consort with such ofour company as are Italiansfor 'tis to Italy I wendand I am illseen in Italian tongue. A courteous and a subtle peopleat meatdelicate feeders and cleanly: love not to put their left hand in thedish. They say Venice is the garden of LombardyLombardy the gardenof ItalyItaly of the world.

"January16.-Strong ways and steepand the mountain girls so girded upasfrom their armpits to their waist is but a handful. Of all the garbsI yet have seenthe most unlovely.

"January18.-In the midst of life we are in death. Oh! dear MargaretIthought I had lost thee. Here I lie in pain and doleand shall writethee thatwhich read you it in a romance ye should cry'Mostimprobable!' And so still wondering that I am alive to write itandthanking for it God and the saintsthis is what befell thy Gerard.Yestreen I wearied of being shut up in litterand of the mule's slowpaceand so went forward; and beingI know not whystrangely fullof spirit and hopeas I have heard befall some men when on trouble'sbrinkseemed to tread on airand soon distanced them all. PresentlyI came to two roadsand took the larger; I should have taken thesmaller. After travelling a good half-hourI found my errorandreturned; and deeming my company had long passed bypushed bravelyonbut I could not overtake them; and small wonderas you shallhear. Then I was anxiousand ranbut bare was the road of those Isought; and night came downand the wild beasts a-footand Ibemoaned my folly; also I was hungered. The moon rose clear andbright exceedinglyand presently a little way off the road I saw atall windmill. 'Come' said I'mayhap the miller will take ruth onme.' Near the mill was a haystackand scattered about were store oflittle barrels; but lo they were not flour-barrelsbut tar-barrelsone or twoand the rest of spiritsBrant vein and Schiedam; I knewthem momentlyhaving seen the like in Holland. I knocked at themill-doorbut none answered. I lifted the latchand the door openedinwards. I went inand gladlyfor the night was fine but coldanda rime on the treeswhich were a kind of lofty sycamores. There wasa stovebut black; I lighted it with some of the hay and woodforthere was a great pile of wood outsideand I know not howI went tosleep. Not long had I sleptI trowwhen hearing a noiseI awoke;and there were a dozen men around mewith wild facesand long blackhairand black sparkling eyes."

Catherine."Ohmy poor boy! those black-haired ones do still scare me tolook on."

"Imade my excuses in such Italian as I knewand eking out by signs.They grinned. 'I had lost my company.' They grinned. 'I was anhungered.' Still they grinnedand spoke to one another in a tongue Iknew not. At last one gave me a piece of bread and a tin mug of wineas I thoughtbut it was spirits neat. I made a wry face and askedfor water: then these wild men laughed a horrible laugh. I thought toflybut looking towards the door it was bolted with two enormousbolts of ironand now firstas I ate my breadI saw it was allguarded tooand ribbed with iron. My blood curdled within meandyet I could not tell thee why; but hadst thou seen the faceswildstupidand ruthless. I mumbled my breadnot to let them see Ifeared them; but ohit cost me to swallow it and keep it in me. Thenit whirled in my brainwas there no way to escape? Said I'Theywill not let me forth by the door; these be smugglers or robbers.' SoI feigned drowsinessand taking out two batzen said'Good menforour Lady's grace let me lie on a bed and sleepfor I am faint withtravel.' They nodded and grinned their horrible grinand bade onelight a lanthorn and lead me. He took me up a winding staircaseupupand I saw no windowsbut the wooden walls were pierced like abarbican towerand methinks for the same purposeand through theseslits I got glimpses of the skyand thought'Shall I e'er see theeagain?' He took me to the very top of the milland there was a roomwith a heap of straw in one corner and many empty barrelsand by thewall a truckle bed. He pointed to itand went downstairs heavilytaking the lightfor in this room was a great windowand the mooncame in bright. I looked out to seeand loit was so high that eventhe mill sails at their highest came not up to my window by somefeetbut turned very slow and stately underneathfor wind there wasscarce a breath; and the trees seemed silver filagree made by angelcraftsmen. My hope of flight was gone.

"Butnowthose wild faces being out of sightI smiled at my fears: whatan if they were ill menwould it profit them to hurt me? Nathelessfor caution against surpriseI would put the bed against the door. Iwent to move itbut could not. It was free at the headbut at thefoot fast clamped with iron to the floor. So I flung my psaltery onthe bedbut for myself made a layer of straw at the doorso as nonecould open on me unawares. And I laid my sword ready to my hand. Andsaid my prayers for thee and meand turned to sleep.

"Belowthey drank and made merry. And hearing this gave me confidence. SaidI'Out of sightout of mind. Another hour and the good Schiedamwill make them forget that I am here.' And so I composed myself tosleep. And for some time could not for the boisterous mirth below. Atlast I dropped off. How long I slept I knew not; but I woke with astart: the noise had ceased belowand the sudden silence woke me.And scarce was I awakewhen sudden the truckle bed was gone with aloud clang all but the feetand the floor yawnedand I heard mypsaltery fall and break to atomsdeepdeepbelow the very floor ofthe mill. It had fallen into a well. And so had I donelying whereit lay."

Margaretshuddered and put her face in her hands. But speedily resumed.

"Ilay stupefied at first. Then horror fell on meand I rosebut stoodrooted thereshaking from head to foot. At last I found myselflooking down into that fearsome gapand my very hair did bristle asI peered. And thenI rememberI turned quite calmand made up mymind to die sword in hand. For I saw no man must know this theirbloody secret and live. And I said'Poor Margaret!' And I took outof my bosomwhere they lie everour marriage linesand kissed themagain and again. And I pinned them to my shirt againthat they mightlie in one grave with meif die I must. And I thought'All our loveand hopes to end thus!'"

Eli."Whisht all! Their marriage lines? Give her time! But no word. Ican bear no chat. My poor lad!"

Duringthe long pause that ensued Catherine leaned forward and passedsomething adroitly from her own lap under her daughter's apron whosat next her.

"Presentlythinkingall in a whirlof all that ever passed between usandtaking leave of all those pleasant hoursI called to mind how oneday at Sevenbergen thou taughtest me to make a rope of straw. Mindestthou? The moment memory brought that happy day hack to meI criedout very loud: 'Margaret gives me a chance for life even here.' Iwoke from my lethargy. I seized on the straw and twisted it eagerlyas thou didst teach mebut my fingers trembled and delayed the task.Whiles I wrought I heard a door open below. That was a terriblemoment. Even as I twisted my rope I got to the window and looked downat the great arms of the mill coming slowly upthen passingthenturning less slowly downas it seemed; and I thought'They go notas when there is wind: yetslow or fastwhat man rid ever on suchsteed as theseand lived. Yet' said I'better trust to them andGod than to ill men.' And I prayed to Him whom even the wind obeyeth.

"DearMargaretI fastened my ropeand let myself gently downand fixedmy eye on that huge arm of the millwhich then was creeping up tomeand went to spring on to it. But my heart failed me at the pinch.And methought it was not near enow. And it passed calm and awful by.I watched for another; they were three. And after a little while onecrept up slower than the rest methought. And I with my foot thrustmyself in good time somewhat out from the walland crying aloud'Margaret!' did grip with all my soul the wood-work of the sailandthat moment was swimming in the air."

Giles."WELL DONE! WELL DONE!"

MotionI felt little; but the stars seemed to go round the skyand then thegrass came up to me nearer and nearerand when the hoary grass wasquite close I was sent rolling along it as if hurled from a catapultand got up breathlessand every point and tie about me broken. Irosebut fell down again in agony. I had but one leg I could standon."

Catherine."Eh! dear! his leg is brokemy boy's leg is broke."

"Ande'en as I lay groaningI heard a sound like thunder. It was theassassins running up the stairs. The crazy old mill shook under them.They must have found that I had not fallen into their bloody trapand were running to despatch me. MargaretI felt no fearfor I hadnow no hope. I could neither run nor hide; so wild the placesobright the moon. I struggled up all agony and revengemore like somewounded wild beast than your Gerard. Leaning on my sword hilt Ihobbled round; and swift as lightingor vengeanceI heaped a greatpile of their hay and wood at the mill door; then drove my daggerinto a barrel of their smuggled spiritsand flung it on; then outwith my tinder and lighted the pile. 'This will bring true men roundmy dead body' said I. 'Aha!' I cried'think you I'll die alonecowardsassassins! reckless fiends!' and at each word on went abarrel pierced. But ohMargaret! the fire fed by the spiritssurprised me: it shot up and singed my very hairit went roaring upthe side of the millswift as falls the lightning; and I yelled andlaughed in my torture and despairand pierced more barrels and thevery tar-barrelsand flung them on. The fire roared like a lion forits preyand voices answered it inside from the top of the millandthe feet came thundering downand I stood as near that awful fire asI couldwith uplifted sword to slay and be slain. The bolt wasdrawn. A tar-barrel caught fire. The door was opened. What followed?Not the men came outbut the fire rushed in at them like a livingdeathand the first I thought to fight with was blackened andcrumpled on the floor like a leaf. One fearsome yelland dumb forever. The feet ran up againbut fewer. I heard them hack with theirswords a little way up at the mill's wooden sides; but they had notime to hew their way out: the fire and reek were at their heelsandthe smoke burst out at every loopholeand oozed blue in themoonlight through each crevice. I hobbled backracked with pain andfury. There were white faces up at my window. They saw me. Theycursed me. I cursed them back and shook my naked sword: 'Come downthe road I came' I cried. 'But ye must come one by oneand as yecomeye die upon this steel.' Some cursed at thatbut otherswailed. For I had them all at deadly vantage. And doubtlesswith mysmoke-grimed face and fiendish rageI looked a demon. And now therewas a steady roar inside the mill. The flame was going up it asfurnace up its chimney. The mill caught fire. Fire glimmered throughit. Tongues of flame darted through each loophole and shot sparks andfiery flakes into the night. One of the assassins leaped on to thesailas I had done. In his hurry he missed his grasp and fell at myfeetand bounded from the hard ground like a balland never spokenor moved again. And the rest screamed like womenand with theirdespair came back to me both ruth for them and hope of life formyself. And the fire gnawed through the mill in placenand shotforth showers of great flat sparks like flakes of fiery snow; and thesails caught fire one after another; and I became a man again andstaggered away terror-strickenleaning on my swordfrom the sightof my revengeand with great bodily pain crawled back to the road.Anddear Margaretthe rimy trees were now all like pyramids ofgolden filagreeand lacecobweb finein the red firelight. Oh!most beautiful! And a poor wretch got entangled in the burning sailsand whirled round screamingand lost hold at the wrong timeandhurled like stone from mangonel high into the air; then a dull thump;it was his carcass striking the earth. The next moment there was aloud crash. The mill fell in on its destroyerand a million greatsparks flew upand the sails fell over the burning wreckand atthat a million more sparks flew upand the ground was strewn withburning wood and men. I prayed God forgive meand kneeling with myback to that fiery shamblesI saw lights on the road; a welcomesight. It was a company coming towards meand scarce two furlongsoff. I hobbled towards them. Ere I had gone far I heard a swift stepbehind me. I turned. One had escaped; how escapedwho can divine?His sword shone in the moonlight. I feared him. Methought the ghostsof all those dead sat on that glittering glaive. I put my other footto the groundmaugre the anguishand fled towards the torchesmoaning with painand shouting for aid. But what could I do Hegained on me. Behooved me turn and fight. Denys had taught me swordplay in sport. I wheeledour swords clashed. His clothes theysmelled all singed. I cut swiftly upward with supple handand hisdangled bleeding at the wristand his sword fell; it tinkled on theground. I raised my sword to hew him should he stoop for't. He stoodand cursed me. He drew his dagger with his left; I opposed my pointand dared him with my eye to close. A great shout arose behind mefrom true men's throats. He started. He spat at me in his ragethengnashed his teeth and fled blaspheming. I turned and saw torchesclose at hand. Lothey fell to dancing up and down methoughtandthe next-moment-all-was-dark. I had - ah!"

Catherine."Herehelp! water! Stand aloofyou that be men!"

Margarethad fainted away.

 

CHAPTERLIV

Whenshe recoveredher head was on Catherine's armand the honest halfof the family she had invaded like a foe stood round her utteringrough homely words of encouragementespecially Gileswho roared ather that she was not to take on like that. "Gerard was alive andwellor he could not have writ this letterthe biggest mankind hadseen as yetand" as he thought"the beautifullestandmost movingand smallest writ."

"Aygood Master Giles" sighed Margaret feebly"he was alive.But how know I what hath since befallen him? Ohwhy left he Hollandto go among strangers fierce as lions? And why did I not drive himfrom me sooner than part him from his own flesh and blood? Forgivemeyou that are his mother!"

Andshe gently removed Catherine's armand made a feeble attempt toslide off the chair on to her kneeswhichafter a brief strugglewith superior forceended in her finding herself on Catherine'sbosom. Then Margaret held out the letter to Eliand said faintly butsweetly"I will trust it from my hand now. In soothI amlittle fit to read any more-and-and - loth to leave my comfort;"and she wreathed her other arm round Catherine's neck.

"ReadthouRichart" said Eli: "thine eyes be younger thanmine."

Richarttook the letter. "Well" said he"such writing saw Inever. A writeth with a needle's point; and clear to boot. Why is henot in my counting-house at Amsterdam instead of vagabonding it outyonder!"

"WhenI came to myself I was seated in the litterand my good merchantholding of my hand. I babbled I know not whatand then shudderedawhile in silence. He put a horn of wine to my lips."

Catherine."Bless him! bless him!"

Eli."Whisht!"

"AndI told him what had befallen. He would see my leg. It was sprainedsoreand swelled at the ankle; and all my points were brokenas Icould scarce keep up my hoseand I said'SirI shall be but aburden to youI doubtand can make you no harmony now; my poorpsaltery it is broken;' and I did grieve over my broken musiccompanion of so many weary leagues. But he patted me on the cheekand bade me not fret; also he did put up my leg on a pillowandtended me like a kind father.

"January19. - I sit all day in the litterfor we are pushing forward withhasteand at night the goodkind merchant sendeth me to bedandwill not let me work. Strange! whene'er I fall in with men likefiendsthen the next moment God still sendeth me some good man orwomanlest I should turn away from human kind. OhMargaret! howstrangely mixed they beand how old I am by what I was three monthsagone. And lo! if good Master Fugger hath not been and bought me apsaltery."

Catherine."Elimy manan yon merchant comes our way let us buy a hundredells of cloth of himand not higgle."

Eli."That will Itake your oath on't!"

WhileRichart prepared to readKate looked at her motherand with a faintblush drew out the piece of work from under her apronand sewed withhead depressed a little more than necessary. On this her mother drewa piece of work out of her pocketand sewed toowhile Richart read.Both the specimens these sweet surreptitious creatures now firstexposed to observation were babies' capsand more than halffinishedwhich told a tale. Horror! they were like little monks'cowls in shape and delicacy.

"January20. - Laid up in the litterand as good as blindbut halting tobaitLombardy plains burst on me. OhMargaret! a land flowing withmilk and honey; all sloping plainsgoodly riversjocund meadowsdelectable orchardsand blooming gardens; and though winterlookswarmer than poor beloved Holland at midsummerand makes thewanderer's face to shineand his heart to leap for joy to see earthso kind and smiling. Here be vinescedarsolivesand cattleplentybut three goats to a sheep. The draught oxen wear white linenon their necksand standing by dark green olive-trees each one is apicture; and the folkespecially womenwear delicate strawen hatswith flowers and leaves fairly imitated in silkwith silver mixed.This day we crossed a river prettily in a chained ferry-boat. Oneither bank was a windlassand a single man by turning of it drewour whole company to his shorewhereat I did admirebeing astranger. Passed over with us some country folk. And an old womanlooking at a young wenchshe did hide her face with her handandheld her crucifix out like knight his sword in tourney dreading theevil eye.

"January25. - Safe at Venice. A place whose strange and passing beauty iswell known to thee by report of our mariners. Dost mind too how Peterwould oft fill our ears withalwe handed beneath the tableand hestill discoursing of this sea-enthroned and peerless cityin shape abowand its great canal and palaces on pilesand its watery waysplied by scores of gilded boats; and that market-place of nationsorbisnon urbisforumSt. Markhis place? And his statue with thepeerless jewels in his eyesand the lion at his gate? But Ilyingat my window in painmay see none of these beauties as yetbut onlya streetfairly pavedwhich is dulland houses with oiled paperand linenin lieu of glasswhich is rude; and the passers-bytheirhabits and theirgestureswherein they are superfluous. Thereforenot to miss my daily comfort of whispering to theeI will e'en turnmine eyes inwardand bind my sheaves of wisdom reaped by travel. ForI love thee sothat no treasure pleases me not shared with thee; andwhat treasure so good and enduring as knowledge? This then have ISir Footsorelearnedthat each nation hath its proper wisdomandits proper folly; and methinkscould a great kingor duketramplike meand see with his own eyeshe might pick the flowersandeschew the weeds of nationsand go home and set his own folk onWisdom's hill. The Germans in the north were churlishbut frank andhonest; in the southkindly and honest too. Their general blot isdrunkennessthe which they carry even to mislike and contempt ofsober men. They say commonly'Kanstu niecht sauffen und fressen sokanstu kienem hern wol dienen.' In Englandthe vulgar sort drink asdeepbut the worshipful hold excess in this a reproachand drink ahealth or two for courtesynot gluttonyand still sugar the wine.In their cups the Germans use little mirth or discoursebut ply thebusiness sadlycrying 'Seyte frolich!' The best of their drunkensport is 'Kurlemurlehuff' a way of drinking with touching deftly ofthe glassthe beardthe tablein due turnintermixed withwhistlings and snappings of the finger so curiously ordered as 'tis alabour of Herculesbut to the beholder right pleasant and mirthful.Their topersby advice of German leechessleep with pebbles intheir mouths. Foras of a boiling pot the lid must be set ajarsowith these fleshy wine-potsto vent the heat of their inward parts:spite of which many die suddenly from drink; but 'tis a matter ofreligion to slur itand gloze itand charge some innocent diseasetherewith. Yet 'tis more a custom than very naturefor their womencome among the tipplersand do but stand a momentand as it werekiss the wine-cup; and are indeed most temperate in eating anddrinkingand of all womenmodest and virtuousand true spouses andfriends to their mates; far before our Holland lassesthat beingmaidsput the question to the menand being wiveddo lord it overthem. Whythere is a wife in Tergounot far from our door. One cameto the house and sought her man. Says she'You'll not find him: heasked my leave to go abroad this afternoonand I did give it him.'"

Catherine."'Tis sooth! 'tis sooth! 'Twas Beck HulseJonah's wife. Thiscomes of a woman wedding a boy."

"Inthe south where wine isthe gentry drink themselves bare; but not inthe north: for with beer a noble shall sooner burst his body thanmelt his lands. They are quarrelsomebut 'tis the liquornot themind; for they are none revengeful. And when they have made a badbargain drunkthey stand to it sober. They keep their windowsbright; and judge a man by his clothes. Whatever fruit or grain orherb grows by the roadsidegather and eat. The owner seeing youshall say'Art welcomehonest man.' But anye pluck a waysidegrapeyour very life is in jeopardy. 'Tis eating of that Heaven gaveto be drunken. The French are much fairer spokenand not nigh sotrue-hearted. Sweet words cost them nought. They call it payer enblanche."

Denys."Les coquins! ha! ha!"

"Nathelesscourtesy is in their heartsayin their very blood. They saycommonly'Give yourself the trouble of sitting down.' And suchstraws of speech show how blows the wind. Also at a public showifyou would leave your seatyet not lose ittie but your napkin roundthe benchand no French man or woman will sit here; but rather keepthe place for you."

Catherine."Gramercy! that is manners. France for me!"

Denysrose and placed his hand gracefully to his breastplate.

"Nathelessthey say things in sport which are not courteousbut shocking. 'Lediable t'emporte!' 'Allez au diable!' and so forth.

ButI trow they mean not such dreadful wishes: custom belike. Moderate indrinkingand mix water with their wineand sing and dance overtheir cupsand are then enchanting company. They are curious not todrink in another man's cup. In war the English gain the better ofthem in the field; but the French are their masters in attack anddefence of cities; witness Orleanswhere they besieged theirbesiegers and hashed them sore with their double and trebleculverines; and many other sieges in this our century. More than allnations they flatter their womenand despise them. No. She may betheir sovereign ruler. Also they often hang their female malefactorsinstead of drowning them decentlyas other nations use. Thefurniture in their inns is walnutin Germany only deal. Frenchwindows are ill. The lower half is of woodand opens; the upper halfis of glassbut fixed; so that the servant cannot come at it toclean it. The German windows are all glassand movableand shinefar and near like diamonds. In France many mean houses are not glazedat all. Once I saw a Frenchman pass a church without unbonneting.This I ne'er witnessed in HollandGermanyor Italy. At many innsthey show the traveller his sheetsto give him assurance they arecleanand warm them at the fire before him; a laudable custom. Theyreceive him kindly and like a guest; they mostly cheat himandwhiles cut his throat. They plead in excuse hard and tyrannous laws.And true it is their law thrusteth its nose into every platterandits finger into every pie. In France worshipful men wear their hatsand their furs indoorsand go abroad lighter clad. In Germany theydon hat and furred cloak to go abroad; but sit bareheaded and lightclad round the stove.

"TheFrench intermix not the men and women folk in assembliesas weHollanders use. Round their preachers the women sit on their heels inrowsand the men stand behind them. Their harvests are ryeandflaxand wine. Three mules shall you see to one horseand wholeflocks of sheep as black as coal.

"InGermany the snails be red. I lie not. The French buy minstrelsybutbreed jestsand make their own mirth. The Germans foster their setfoolswith ear-capswhich move them to laughter by simulatingmadness; a calamity that asks pitynot laughter. In this particularI deem that lighter nation wiser than the graver German. What sayestthou? Alas! canst not answer me now.

"InGermany the petty laws are wondrous wise and just. Those againstcriminalsbloody. In France bloodier still; and executed a triflemore cruelly there. Here the wheel is commonand the fiery stake;and under this king they drown men by the score in Paris riverSeineyclept. But the English are as peremptory in hanging and drowning fora light fault; so travellers report. Finallya true-heartedFrenchmanwhen ye chance on oneis a man as near perfect as earthaffords; and such a man is my Denysspite of his foul mouth."

Denys."My foul mouth! Is that so writMaster Richart?"

Richart."Ayin sooth; see else."

Denys(inspecting the letter gravely). "I read not the letter so."

Richart."How then?"

Denys."Humph! ahem why just the contrary." He added: "'Tiskittle work perusing of these black scratches men are agreed to takefor words. And I trow 'tis still by guess you clerks do goworthysir. My foul mouth! This is the first time e'er I heard on't. Ehmesdames?"

Butthe females did not seize the opportunity he gave themand burstinto a loud and general disclaimer. Margaret blushed and saidnothing; the other two bent silently over their work with somethingvery like a sly smile. Denys inspected their countenances long andcarefully. And the perusal was so satisfactorythat he turned with atone of injuredbut patient innocenceand bade Richart read on.

"TheItalians are a polished and subtle people. They judge a mannot byhis habitsbut his speech and gesture. Here Sir Chough may by nomeans pass for falcon gentleas did I in Germanypranked in mynoble servant's feathers. Wisest of all nations in their singulartemperance of food and drink. Most foolish of all to search strangerscoming into their bordersand stay them from bringing much money in.They should rather invite itand like other nationslet thetraveller from taking of it out. Also here in Venice the dames turntheir black hair yellow by the sun and artto be wiser than Him whomade them. Ye enter no Italian town without a bill of healththoughnow is no plague in Europe. This peevishness is for extortion's sake.The innkeepers cringe and fawnand cheatand in country placesmurder you. Yet will they give you clean sheets by paying therefor.Delicate in eatingand abhor from putting their hand in the plate;sooner they will apply a crust or what not. They do even tell of acardinal at Romewhich armeth his guest's left hand with a littlebifurcal dagger to hold the meatwhile his knife cutteth it. Butmethinks thistoois to be wiser than Himwho made the hand sosupple and prehensile."

Eli."I am of your mindmy lad."

"Theyare sore troubled with the itch. And ointment for itunguento per larognais cried at every corner of Venice. From this my window I sawan urchin sell it to three several dames in silken trainsand to twovelvet knights."

Catherine."Italymy lassI rede ye wash your body i' the tub o' Sundays;and then ye can put your hand i' the plate o' Thursday withoutenoffence."

"Theirbread is lovely white. Their meats they spoil with sprinkling cheeseover them; Operversity! Their salt is black; without a lie. Incommerce these Venetians are masters of the earth and sea; and governtheir territories wisely. Only one flaw I find; the same I once hearda learned friar cast up against Plato his republic: to witthat herewomen are encouraged to venal frailtyand do pay a tax to the Statewhichnot content with silk and spiceand other rich and honestfreightsgood storemust trade in sin. Twenty thousand of theseJezebels there be in Venice and Candiaand aboutpampered andhonoured for bringing strangers to the cityand many live inprincely palaces of their own. But herein methinks the politicsignors of Venice forget what King David saith'Except the Lord keepthe citythe watchman waketh but in vain.' Alsoin religiontheyhang their cloth according to the windsiding now with the Popenowwith the Turk; but aye with the god of tradersmammon hight. Shallflower so cankered bloom to the world's end? But since I speak offlowersthis none may deny themthat they are most cunning inmaking roses and gilliflowers to blow unseasonably. In summer theynip certain of the budding roses and water them not. Then in winterthey dig round these discouraged plantsand put in cloves; and sowith great art rear sweet-scented rosesand bring them to market inJanuary. And did first learn this art of a cow. Buds she grazed insummerand they sprouted at yule. Women have sat in the doctors'chairs at their colleges. But she that sat in St. Peter's was aGerman. Italy toofor artful fountains and figures that move bywater and enact life. And next for fountains is Augsburgwhere theyharness the foul knave Smoke to good Sir Spitand he turneth stoutMaster Roast. But lest any one place should vaunttwo towns there bein Europewhichscorning giddy fountainsbring water tame in pipesto every burgher's doorand he filleth his vessels with but turningof a cock. One is Londonso watered this many a year by pipes of aleague from Paddingtona neighbouring city; and the other is thefair town of Lubeck. Also the fierce English are reported to me wisein that they will not share their land and flocks with wolves; buthave fairly driven those marauders into their mountains. But neitherin Francenor Germanynor Italyis a wayfarer's life safe from thevagabones after sundown. I can hear of no glazed house in all Venice;but only oiled linen and paper; and behind these barbarian eyeletsawooden jalosy. Their name for a cowardly assassin is 'a brave man'and for an harlot'a courteous person' which is as much as to saythat a woman's worst viceand a man's worst viceare virtues. But Ipray God for little Holland that there an assassin may be yclept anassassinand an harlot an harlottill domesday; and then gloze foulfaults with silken names who can!"

Eli(with a sigh). "He should have been a priestsaving yourpresencemy poor lass."

"January26. - SweetheartI must be briefand tell thee but a part of that Ihave seenfor this day my journal ends. To-night it sails for theeand Iunhappynot with itbut to-morrowin another shipto Rome.

"DearMargaretI took a hand litterand was carried to St. Mark hischurch. Outside ittowards the market-placeis a noble galleryandabove it four famous horsescut in brass by the ancient Romansandseem all movingand at the very next step must needs leap down onthe beholder. About the church are six hundred pillars of marbleporphyryand ophites. Inside is a treasure greater than eitheratSt. Denysor Lorettoor Toledo. Here a jewelled pitcher given theseigniory by a Persian kingalso the ducal cap blazing with jewelsand on its crown a diamond and a chrysoliteeach as big as analmond; two golden crowns and twelve golden stomachers studded withjewelsfrom Constantinople; itema monstrous sapphire; itemagreat diamond given by a French king; itema prodigious carbuncle;itemthree unicorns' horns. But what are these compared with thesacred relics?

"DearMargaretI stood and saw the brazen chest that holds the body of St.Mark the Evangelist. I saw with these eyes and handled his ringandhis gospel written with his own handand all my travels seemedlight; for who am I that I should see such things? Dear Margarethissacred body was first brought from Alexandriaby merchants in 810and then not prized as now; for between 829when this church wasbuildedand 1094the very place where it lay was forgotten. Thenholy priests fasted and prayed many days seeking for lightand lo!the Evangelist's body brake at midnight through the marble and stoodbefore them. They fell to the earth; but in the morning found thecrevice the sacred body had burst throughand peering through it sawhim lie. Then they took and laid him in his chest beneath the altarand carefully put back the stone with its miraculous crevicewhichcrevice I sawand shall gape for a monument while the world lasts.After that they showed me the Virgin's chairit is of stone; alsoher picturepainted by St. Lukevery darkand the features nowscarce visible. This picturein time of droughtthey carry inprocessionand brings the rain. I wish I had not seen it. Itemtwopieces of marble spotted with John the Baptist's blood; itema pieceof the true crossand of the pillar to which Christ was tied; itemthe rock struck by Mosesand wet to this hour; also a stone Christsat onpreaching at Tyre; but some say it is the one the patriarchJacob laid his head onand I hold with themby reason our Lordnever preached at Tyre. Going hencethey showed me the state nurseryfor the children of those aphrodisian damestheir favourites. Herein the outer wall was a broad nicheand if they bring them so littleas they can squeeze them through it alivethe bairn falls into a netinsideand the state takes charge of itbut if too bigtheirmothers must even take them home againwith whom abiding 'tis liketo be mali corvi mali ovum. Coming out of the church we met themcarrying in a corpsewith the feet and face bare. This I then firstlearned is Venetian customand sure no other town will ever rob themof itnor of this that follows. On a great porphyry slab in thepiazza were three ghastly heads rotting and tainting the airand intheir hot summers like to take vengeance with breeding of a plague.These were traitors to the stateand a heavy price - two thousandducats - being put on each headtheir friends had slain them andbrought all three to the slaband so sold blood of others and theirown faith. No state buys heads so manynor pays half so high a pricefor that sorry merchandise. But what I most admired was to see overagainst the Duke's palace a fair gallows in alabasterreared expressto bring himand no otherfor the least treason to the state; andthere it stands in his eye whispering him memento mori. I ponderedand owned these signors my masterswho will let no mannot eventheir sovereignbe above the common weal. Hard byon a walltheworkmen were just finishingby order of the seigniorythe stoneeffigy of a tragical and enormous act enacted last yearyet on thewall looks innocent. Here two gentle folks whisper togetherandthere other twaintheir swords by their side. Four brethren weretheywhich did on either side conspire to poison the other twoandso halve their land in lieu of quartering it; and at a mutual banquetthese twain drugged the wineand those twain envenomed a marchpaneto such good purpose that the same afternoon lay four 'brave men'around one table grovelling in mortal agonyand cursing of oneanother and themselvesand so concluded miserablyand the landforwhich they had lost their immortal soulswent into another family.And why not? it could not go into a worse.

"ButOsovereign wisdom of bywords! how true they put the finger on eachnation'sor particular'sfault.
"Quand Italie sera sanspoison
Et France sans trahison
Et l'Angleterre sansguerre
Lors sera le monde sans terre."

Richartexplained this to Catherinethen proceeded: "And after thisthey took me to the quayand presently I espied among the masts onegarlanded with amaranth flowers. 'Take me thither' said Iand I letmy guide know the custom of our Dutch skippers to hoist flowers tothe masthead when they are courting a maid. Oft had I scoffed at thissaying'So then his wooing is the earth's concern. But nowso farfrom the Rotterthat bunch at a masthead made my heart leap withassurance of a countryman. They carried meand ohMargaret! on thestern of that Dutch boywas written in muckle letters
RICHARTELIASSOENAMSTERDAM. 'Put me down' I said; 'for our Lady's sake putme down.' I sat on the bank and lookedscarce believing my eyesandlookedand presently fell to cryingtill I could see the words nomore. Ah mehow they went to my heartthose bare letters in aforeign land. Dear Richart! goodkind brother Richart! often I havesat on his knee and rid on his back. Kisses many he has given meunkind word from him had I never. And there was his name on his ownshipand his face and all his gravebut good and gentle wayscameback to meand I sobbed vehementlyand cried aloud'Whywhy isnot brother Richart hereand not his name only?' I spake in Dutchfor my heart was too full to hold their foreign tonguesand

Eli."WellRichartgo onladprithee go on. Is this a place tohalt at?"

Richart."Fatherwith my duty to youit is easy to say go onbut thinkye I am not flesh and blood? The poor boy's - simple grief andbrotherly love coming - so sudden-on methey go through my heart and- I cannot go on; sink me if I can even see the words'tis writ sofine."

Denys."Couragegood Master Richart! Take your time. Here are moreeyne wet than yours. Ahlittle comrade! would God thou wert hereand I at Venice for thee."

Richart."Poor little curly-headed ladwhat had he done that we havedriven him so far?"

"Thatis what I would fain know" said Catherine drilythen fell toweeping and rocking herselfwith her apron over her head.

"Kinddamegood friends" said Margaret trembling"let me tellyou how the letter ends. The skipper hearing our Gerard speak hisgrief in Dutchaccosted himand spake comfortably to him; and aftera while our Gerard found breath to say he was worthy Master Richart'sbrother. Thereat was the good skipper all agog to serve him."

Richart."So! so! skipper! Master Richart aforesaid will be at thywedding and bring's purse to boot."

Margaret."Sirhe told Gerard of his consort that was to sail that verynight for Rotterdam; and dear Gerard had to go home and finish hisletter and bring it to the ship. And the restit is but his poordear words of love to methe whichan't please youI think shameto hear them read aloudand ends with the lines I sent to MistressKateand they would sound so harsh now and ungrateful."

Thepleading toneas much as the wordsprevailedand Richart said hewould read no more aloudbut run his eye over it for his ownbrotherly satisfaction. She blushed and looked uneasybut made noreply.

"Eli"said Catherinestill sobbing a little"tell mefor our Lady'ssakehow our poor boy is to live at that nasty Rome. He is gonethere to writebut here he his own words to prove writing availsnought: a had died o' hunger by the way but for paint-brush andpsaltery. Well a-day!"

"Well"said Eli"he has got brush and music still. Besidesso manymen so many minds. Writingthough it had no sale in other partsmaybe merchandise at Rome."

"Father"said little Kate"have I your good leave to put in my word'twixt mother and you?"

"Andwelcomelittle heart."

"Thenseems to mepainting and musicclose at handbe stronger thanwritingbut being distantnought to compare; for see what glamourwritten paper hath done here but now. Our Gerardwriting at Venicehath verily put his hand into this room at Rotterdamand turned allour hearts. Aydear dear Gerardmethinks thy spirit hath rid hitheron these thy paper wings; and oh! dear fatherwhy not do as weshould do were he here in the body?"

"Kate"said Eli"fear not; Richart and I will give him glamour forglamour. We will write him a letterand send it to Rome by a surehand with moneyand bid him home on the instant."

Cornelisand Sybrandt exchanged a gloomy look.

"Ahgood father! And meantime?"

"Wellmeantime?"

"Dearfatherdear motherwhat can we do to pleasure the absentbut bekind to his poor lass; and her own trouble afore her?"

"'Tiswell!" said Eli; "but I am older than thou." Then heturned gravely to Margaret: "Wilt answer me a questionmypretty mistress?"

"IfI maysir" faltered Margaret.

"Whatare these marriage lines Gerard speaks of in the letter?"

"Ourmarriage linessir. His and mine. Know you not that we arebetrothed?"

"Beforewitnesses?"

"Aysure. My poor father and Martin Wittenhaagen."

"Thisis the first I ever heard of it. How came they in his hands? Theyshould be in yours."

"Alassirthe more is my grief; but I ne'er doubted him; and he said itwas a comfort to him to have them in his bosom."

"Y'area very foolish lass."

"IndeedI wassir. But trouble teaches the simple."

"'Tisa good answer. Wellfoolish or noy'are honest. I had shown ye morerespect at firstbut I thought y'had been his lemanand that is thetruth."

"Godforbidsir! Denysmethinks 'tis time for us to go. Give me mylettersir!"

"Bideye! bide ye! be not so hot for a word! Nathelesswifemethinks herred cheek becomes her."

"Betterthan it did you to give it hermy man."

"Softlywifesoftly. I am not counted an unjust man though I be somewhatslow."

HereRichard broke in. "Whymistressdid ye shed your blood for ourGerard?"

"NotIsir. But maybe I would."

"Naynay. But he says you did. Speak sooth now!"

"Alas!I know not what ye mean. I rede ye believe not all that my poor ladsays of me. Love makes him blind."

"Traitress!"cried Denys. "Let not her throw dust in thine eyesMasterRichart. Old Martin tells me ye need not make signals to meshe-comrade; I am as blind as love - Martin tells me she cut her armand let her blood flowand smeared her heels when Gerard was huntedby the bloodhoundsto turn the scent from her lad."

"Welland if I did'twas my ownand spilled for the good of my own' saidMargaret defiantly. But Catherine suddenly clasping hershe began tocry at having found a bosom to cry onof one who would have alsoshed her blood for Gerard in danger.

Elirose from his chair. "Wife" said he solemnly"youwill set another chair at our table for every meal: also anotherplate and knife. They will be for Margaret and Peter. She will comewhen she likesand stay away when she pleases. None may take herplace at my left hand. Such as can welcome her are welcome to me.Such as cannotI force them not to abide with me. The world is wideand free. Within my walls I am masterand my son's betrothed iswelcome."

Catherinebustled out to prepare supper. Eli and Richart sat down and concocteda letter to bring Gerard home. Richart promised it should go by seato Rome that very week. Sybrandt and Cornelis exchanged a gloomywinkand stole out. Margaretseeing Giles deep in meditationforthe dwarf's intelligence had taken giant stridesasked him to bringher the letter. "You have heard but halfgood master Giles"said she. "Shall I read you the rest

"Ishall be much beholden to you" shouted the sonorous atom.

Shegave him her stool: curiosity bowed his pride to sit on it; andMargaret murmured the first part of the letter into his ear very lownot to disturb Eli and Richart. And to do thisshe leaned forwardand put her lovely face cheek by jowl with Giles's hideous one: astrange contrastand worth a painter's while to try and represent.And in this attitude Catherine found herand all the mother warmedtowards herand she exchanged an eloquent glance with little Kate.

Thelatter smiledand sewedwith drooping lashes.

"Gethim home on the instant" roared Giles. "I'll make a man ofhim."

"Hearthe boy!" said Catherinehalf comicallyhalf proudly.

"Wehear him" said Richart; "a mostly makes himself heard whena do speak."

Sybrandt."Which will get to him first?"

Cornelis(gloomily). "Who can tell?"

 

CHAPTERLV

Abouttwo months before this scene in Eli's homethe natives of a little'maritime place between Naples and Rome might be seen flocking to thesea beachwith eyes cast seaward at a shipthat laboured against astiff gale blowing dead on the shore.

Attimes she seemed likely to weather the dangerand then thespectators congratulated her aloud: at others the wind and sea droveher visibly nearerand the lookers-on were not without a secretsatisfaction they would not have owned even to themselves.
Nonquia vexari quemquam est jucunda voluptas
Sed quibus ipse maliscareas quia cernere suave est.

Andthe poor shipthough not scientifically built for sailingwasadmirably constructed for going ashorewith her extravagant poopthat caught the windand her lines like a cocked hat reversed. Tothose on the beach that battered labouring frame of wood seemedaliveand struggling against death with a panting heart. But couldthey have been transferred to her deck they would have seen she hadnot one beating heart but manyand not one nature but a score werecoming out clear in that fearful hour.

Themariners stumbled wildly about the deckhandling the ropes as eachthought fitand cursing and praying alternately.

Thepassengers were huddled together round the mastsome sittingsomekneelingsome lying prostrateand grasping the bulwarks as thevessel rolled and pitched in the mighty waves. One comely young manwhose ashy cheekbut compressed lipsshowed how hard terror wasbattling in him with self-respectstood a little apartholdingtight by a shroudand wincing at each sea. It was the ill-fatedGerard. Meantime prayers and vows rose from the trembling throngamid-shipsand to hear themit seemed there were almost as manygods about as men and women. The sailorsindeedrelied on a singlegoddess. They varied her titles onlycalling on her as "Queenof Heaven" "Star of the Sea" "Mistress of theWorld" "Haven of Safety." But among the landsmenPolytheism raged. Even those who by some strange chance hit on thesame divinity did not hit on the same edition of that divinity. AnEnglish merchant vowed a heap of gold to our lady of Walsingham. Buta Genoese merchant vowed a silver collar of four pounds to our ladyof Loretto; and a Tuscan noble promised ten pounds of wax lights toour lady of Ravenna; and with a similar rage for diversity theypledged themselvesnot on the true Crossbut on the true Cross inthisthator the other modern city.

Suddenlya more powerful gust than usual catching the sail at a disadvantagethe rotten shrouds gave wayand the sail was torn out with a loudcrackand went down the wind smaller and smallerblacker andblackerand fluttered into the seahalf a mile offlike a sheet ofpaperand ere the helmsman could put the ship's head before thewinda wave caught her on the quarter and drenched the poor wretchesto the boneand gave them a foretaste of chill death. Then one vowedaloud to turn Carthusian monkif St. Thomas would save him. Anotherwould go a pilgrim to Compostellabareheadedbarefootedwithnothing but a coat of mail on his naked skinif St. James would savehim. Others invoked ThomasDominicDenysand above allCatherineof Sienna.

Twopetty Neapolitan traders stood shivering.

Oneshouted at the top of his voice"I vow to St. Christopher atParis a waxen image of his own weightif I win safe to land."

Onthis the other nudged himand said"Brotherbrothertakeheed what you vow. Whyif you sell all you have in the world bypublic auction'twill not buy his weight in wax."

"Holdyour tongueyou fool" said the vociferator. Then in a whisper:

"Thinkye I am in earnest? Let me but win safe to landI'll not give him arush dip."

Otherslay flat and prayed to the sea.

"Ohmost merciful sea! ohsea most generous! oh! bountiful sea! ohbeautiful sea! be gentlebe kindpreserve us in this hour ofperil."

Andothers wailed and moaned in mere animal terror each time theill-fated ship rolled or pitched more terribly than usual; and shewas now a mere plaything in the arms of the tremendous waves.

ARoman woman of the humbler class sat with her child at her half-baredbreastsilent amid that wailing throng: her cheek ashy pale; her eyecalm; and her lips moved at times in silent prayerbut she neitherweptnor lamentednor bargained with the gods. Whenever the shipseemed really gone under their feetand bearded men squeakedshekissed her child; but that was all. And so she sat patientandsuckled him in death's jaws; for why should he lose any joy she couldgive him; moribundo? Aythere I do believesat Antiquity amongthose mediaevals. Sixteen hundred years had not tainted the old Romanblood in her veins; and the instinct of a race she had perhaps scarceheard of taught her to die with decent dignity.

Agigantic friar stood on the poop with feet apartlike the Colossusof Rhodesnot so much defyingas ignoringthe peril thatsurrounded him. He recited verses from the Canticles with a loudunwavering voice; and invited the passengers to confess to him. Somedid so on their kneesand he heard them and laid his hands on themand absolved them as if he had been in a snug sacristyinstead of aperishing ship. Gerard got nearer and nearer to himby the instinctthat takes the wavering to the side of the impregnable. And in truththe courage of heroes facing fleshly odds might have paled by theside of that gigantic friarand his still more gigantic composure.Thuseven heretwo were found who maintained the dignity of ourrace: a womantenderyet heroicand a monk steeled by religionagainst mortal fears.

Andnowthe sail being gonethe sailors cut down the useless mast afoot above the boardand it fell with its remaining hamper over theship's side. This seemed to relieve her a little.

Butnow the hullno longer impelled by canvascould not keep ahead ofthe sea. It struck her again and again on the poopand thetremendous blows seemed given by a rocky mountainnot by a liquid.

Thecaptain left the helm and came amidships pale as death. "Lightenher" he cried. "Fling all overboardor we shall founderere we strikeand lose the one little chance we have of life."While the sailors were executing this orderthe captainpalehimselfand surrounded by pale faces that demanded to know theirfatewas talking as unlike an English skipper in like peril as canwell be imagined. "Friends" said he"last night whenall was fairtoo fairalas! there came a globe of fire close to theship. When a pair of them come it is good luckand nought can drownher that voyage. We mariners call these fiery globes Castor andPollux. But if Castor come without Polluxor Pollux without Castorshe is doomed. Thereforelike good Christiansprepare to die."

Thesewords were received with a loud wail.

Toa trembling inquiry how long they had to preparethe captainreplied"She mayor may notlast half an hour; over thatimpossible; she leaks like a sieve; bustlemenlighten her."

Thepoor passengers seized on everything that was on deck and flung itoverboard. Presently they laid hold of a heavy sack; an old man waslying on itsea sick. They lugged it from under him. It rattled. Twoof them drew it to the side; up started the ownerand with anunearthly shriekpounced on it. "Holy Moses! what would you do?'Tis my all; 'tis the whole fruits of my journey; silvercandlestickssilver platesbroocheshanaps - "

"Letgothou hoary villain" cried the others; "shall all ourlives be lost for thy ill-gotten gear?" "Fling him in withit" cried one; "'tis this Ebrew we Christian men aredrowned for." Numbers soon wrenched it from himand heaved itover the side. It splashed into the waves. Then its owner uttered onecry of anguishand stood glaringhis white hair streaming in thewindand was going to leap after itand wouldhad it floated. Butit sankand was gone for ever; and he staggered to and frotearinghis hairand cursed them and the shipand the seaand all thepowers of heaven and hell alike.

Andnow the captain cried out: "Seethere is a church in sight.Steer for that churchmateand youfriendspray to the saintwhoe'er he be."

Sothey steered for the church and prayed to the unknown god it wasnamed after. A tremendous sea pooped thembroke the rudderandjammed it immovableand flooded the deck.

Thenwild with superstitious terror some of them came round Gerard. "Hereis the cause of all" they cried. "He has never invoked asingle saint. He is a heathen; here is a pagan aboard."

"Alasgood friendssay not so" said Gerardhis teeth chatteringwith cold and fear. "Rather call these heathensthat lie apraying to the sea. FriendsI do honour the saints - but I dare notpray to them now - there is no time - (oh!) what avail me Dominicand Thomasand Catherine? Nearer God's throne than these St. Petersitteth; and if I pray to himit's oddbut I shall be drowned erehe has time to plead my cause with God. Oh! oh! oh! I must need gostraight to Him that made the seaand the saintsand me. Our Fatherwhich art in heavensave these poor souls and me that cry for thebare life! Ohsweet Jesuspitiful Jesusthat didst walk Genezaretwhen Peter sankand wept for Lazarus dead when the apostles' eyeswere dryohsave poor Gerard - for dear Margaret's sake!"

Atthis moment the sailors were seen preparing to desert the sinkingship in the little boatwhich even at that epoch every ship carried;then there was a rush of egotists; and thirty souls crowded into it.Remained behind three who were bewilderedand two who wereparalyzedwith terror. The paralyzed sat like heaps of wet ragsthebewildered ones ran to and froand saw the thirty egotists put offbut made no attempt to join them: only kept running to and froandwringing their hands. Besides these there was one on his kneespraying over the wooden statue of the Virgin Maryas large as lifewhich the sailors had reverently detached from the mast. It washedabout the deckas the water came slushing in from the seaandpouring out at the scuppers; and this poor soul kept following it onhis kneeswith his hands clasped at itand the water playing withit. And there was the Jew palsiedbut not by fear. He was no longercapable of so petty a passion. He sat cross-leggedbemoaning hisbagand whenever the spray lashed himshook his fist at where itcame fromand cursed the Nazarenesand their godsand theirdevilsand their shipsand their watersto all eternity.

Andthe gigantic Dominicanhaving shriven the whole shipstood calmlycommuning with his own spirit. And the Roman woman sat pale andpatientonly drawing her child closer to her bosom as death camenearer.

Gerardsaw thisand it awakened his manhood.

"See!see!" he said"they have ta'en the boat and left the poorwoman and her child to perish."

Hisheart soon set his wit working.

"WifeI'll save thee yetplease God." And he ran to find a cask or aplank to float her. There was none.

Thenhis eye fell on the wooden image of the Virgin. He caught it up inhis armsand heedless of a wail that issued from its worshipper likea child robbed of its toyran aft with it. "Comewife"he cried. "I'll lash thee and the child to this. 'Tis sore wormeatenbut 'twill serve."

Sheturned her great dark eye on him and said a single word:

"Thyself?!

Butwith wonderful magnanimity and tenderness.

"Iam a manand have no child to take care of."

"Ah!"said sheand his words seemed to animate her face with a desire tolive. He lashed the image to her side. Then with the hope of life shelost something of her heroic calm; not much: her body trembled alittlebut not her eye.

Theship was now so low in the water that by using an oar as a lever hecould slide her into the waves.

"Come"said he"while yet there is time."

Sheturned her great Roman eyeswet nowupon him. "Poor youth! -God forgive me! - My child!" And he launched her on the surgeand with his oar kept her from being battered against the ship.

Aheavy hand fell on him; a deep sonorous voice sounded in his ear:"'Tis well. Now come with me."

Itwas the gigantic friar.

Gerardturnedand the friar took two stridesand laid hold of the brokenmast. Gerard did the sameobeying him instinctively. Between themafter a prodigious effortthey hoisted up the remainder of the mastand carried it off. "Fling it in" said the friar"andfollow it." They flung it in; but one of the bewilderedpassengers had run after themand jumped first and got on one end.Gerard seized the otherthe friar the middle.

Itwas a terrible situation. The mast rose and plunged with each wavelike a kicking horseand the spray flogged their faces mercilesslyand blinded them: to help knock them off.

Presentlywas heard a long grating noise ahead. The ship had struckand soonaftershe being stationary nowthey were hurled against her withtremendous force. Their companion's head struck against the upperpart of the broken rudder with a horrible crackand was smashed likea cocoa-nut by a sledge-hammer. He sunk directlyleaving no tracebut a red stain on the waterand a white clot on the jagged rudderand a death cry ringing in their earsas they drifted clear underthe lee of the black hull. The friar uttered a short Latin prayer forthe safety of his souland took his place composedly. They rolledalong; one moment they saw nothingand seemed down in a mere basinof watery hills: the next they caught glimpses of the shore speckledbright with peoplewho kept throwing up their arms with wild Italiangestures to encourage themand the black boat driving bottomupwardsand between it and them the woman rising and falling likethemselves. She had come across a paddleand was holding her childtight with her left armand paddling gallantly with her right.

Whenthey had tumbled along thus a long timesuddenly the friar saidquietly -

"Itouched the ground."

"Impossiblefather" said Gerard; "we are more than a hundred yardsfrom shore. Pritheepritheeleave not our faithful mast."

"Myson" said the friar"you speak prudently. But know that Ihave business of Holy Church on handand may not waste time floatingwhen I can walkin her service. There I felt it with my toes again;see the benefit of wearing sandalsand not shoon. Again; and sandy.Thy stature is less than mine: keep to the mast! I walk." Heleft the mast accordingly and extending his powerful armsrushedthrough the water. Gerard soon followed him. At each overpoweringwave the monk stood like a towerand closing his mouththrew hishead back to encounter itand was entirely lost under it awhile:then emerged and ploughed lustily on. At last they came close to theshore; but the suction outward baffled all their attempts to land.Then the natives sent stout fishermen into the seaholding by longspears in a triple chain; and so dragged them ashore.

Thefriar shook himselfbestowed a short paternal benediction on thenativesand went on to Romewith eyes bent on earth according tohis ruleand without pausing. He did not even cast a glance backupon that seawhich had so nearly engulfed himbut had no power toharm himwithout his Master's leave.

Whilehe stalks on alone to Rome without looking backI who am not in theservice of Holy Churchstop a moment to say that the reader and Iwere within six inches of this giant once before; but we escaped himthat time. Now I fear we are in for him. Gerard grasped every handupon the beach. They brought him to an enormous fireand with adelicacy he would hardly have encountered in the northleft him todry himself alone: on this he took out of his bosom a parchmentanda paperand dried them carefully. When this was done to his mindand not till thenhe consented to put on a fisherman's dress andleave his own by the fireand went down to the beach. What he sawmay be briefly related.

Thecaptain stuck by the shipnot so much from gallantryas from aconviction that it was idle to resist Castor or Polluxwhichever itwas that had come for him in a ball of fire.

Neverthelessthe sea broke up the ship and swept the poopcaptain and allclearof the restand took him safe ashore. Gerard had a principal hand inpulling him out of the water. The disconsolate Hebrew landed onanother fragmentand on touching earthoffered a reward for hisbagwhich excited little sympathybut some amusement. Two more weresaved on pieces of the wreck. The thirty egotists came ashorebutone at a timeand dead; one breathed still. Him the nativeswithexcellent intentionstook to a hot fire. So then he too retired fromthis shifting scene.

AsGerard stood by the seawatchingwith horror and curiosity mixedhis late companions washed ashorea hand was laid lightly on hisshoulder. He turned. It was the Roman matronburning with womanlygratitude. She took his hand gentlyand raising it slowly to herlipskissed it; but so noblyshe seemed to be conferring an honouron one deserving hand. Then with face all beaming and moist eyessheheld her child up and made him kiss his preserver.

Gerardkissed the child more than once. He was fond of children. But he saidnothing. He was much moved; for she did not speak at allexcept withher eyesand glowing cheeksand noble antique gestureso large andstately. Perhaps she was right. Gratitude is not a thing of words. Itwas an ancient Roman matron thanking a modern from her heart ofhearts.

Nextday towards afternoonGerard - twice as old as last yearthrice aslearned in human waysa boy no morebut a man who had shed blood inself-defenceand grazed the grave by land and sea - reached theEternal City; post tot naufragia tutus.

 

CHAPTERLVI

Gerardtook a modest lodging on the west bank of the Tiberand every daywent forth in search of worktaking a specimen round to every shophe could hear of that executed such commissions.

Theyreceived him coldly. "We make our letter somewhat thinner thanthis" said one. "How dark your ink is" said another.But the main cry was"What avails this? Scant is the Latin writhere now. Can ye not write Greek?"

"Aybut not nigh so well as Latin."

"Thenyou shall never make your bread at Rome."

Gerardborrowed a beautiful Greek manuscript at a high priceand went homewith a sad hole in his pursebut none in his courage.

Ina fortnight he had made vast progress with the Greek character; sothento lose no timehe used to work at it till noonand huntcustomers the rest of the day.

Whenhe carried round a better Greek specimen than any they possessedthetraders informed him that Greek and Latin were alike unsaleable; thecity was thronged with works from all Europe. He should have comelast year.

Gerardbought a psaltery. His landladypleased with his looks and mannersused often to speak a kind word in passing. One day she made him dinewith herand somewhat to his surprise asked him what had dashed hisspirits. He told her. She gave him her reading of the matter. "Thosesly traders" she would be bound"had writers in theirpayfor whose work they received a noble priceand paid a sorryone. So no wonder they blow cold on you. Methinks you write too well.How know I that? say you. Marry - marrybecause you lock not yourdoorlike the churl Pietroand women will be curious. Ayayyouwrite too well for them."

Gerardasked an explanation.

"Why"said she"your good work might put out the eyes of that theyare selling.

Gerardsighed. "Alas! dameyou read folk on the ill sideand you sokind and frank yourself."

"Mydear little heartthese Romans are a subtle race. Me? I am aSiennesethanks to the Virgin."

"Mymistake was leaving Augsburg" said Gerard.

"Augsburg?"said she haughtily: "is that a place to even to Rome? I neverheard of itfor my part."

Shethen assured him that he should make his fortune in spite of thebooksellers. "Seeing thee a strangerthey lie to thee withoutsense or discretion. Whyall the world knows that our great folk arebitten with the writing spider this many yearsand pour out theirmoney like waterand turn good land and houses into writ sheepskinsto keep in a chest or a cupboard. God help themand send them safethrough this furyas He hath through a heap of others; and in soothhath been somewhat less cutting and stabbing among rival factionsand vindictive eating of their opposites' liversminced and friedsince Scribbling came in. WhyI can tell you two. There is hiseminence Cardinal Bassarionand his holiness the Pope himself. Therebe a pair could keep a score such as thee a writing night and day.But I'll speak to Teresa; she hears the gossip of the court."

Thenext day she told him she had seen Teresaand had heard of five moresignors who were bitten with the writing spider. Gerard took downtheir namesand bought parchmentand busied himself for some daysin preparing specimens. He left onewith his name and addressateach of these signors' doorsand hopefully awaited the result.

Therewas none.

Dayafter day passed and left him heartsick.

Andstrange to say this was just the time when Margaret was fighting sohard against odds to feed her male dependents at Rotterdamandarrested for curing without a licence instead of killing with one.

Gerardsaw ruin staring him in the face.

Hespent the afternoons picking up canzonets and mastering them. He laidin playing cards to colourand struck off a meal per day.

Thislast stroke of genius got him into fresh trouble.

Inthese "camere locande" the landlady dressed all the mealsthough the lodgers bought the provisions. So Gerard's hostessspeedily detected himand asked him if he was not ashamed himself:by which brusque openinghaving made him blush and look scaredshepacified herself all in a momentand appealed to his good sensewhether Adversity was a thing to be overcome on an empty stomach.

"Patienzamy lad! times will mend; meantime I will feed you for the love ofheaven." (Italian for "gratis.")

"Nayhostess" said Gerard"my purse is not yet quite voidandit would add to my trouble an if true folk should lose their due byme."

"Whyyou are as mad as your neighbour Pietrowith his one bad picture."

"Whyhow know you 'tis a bad picture?"

"Becausenobody will buy it. There is one that hath no gift. He will have todon casque and glaiveand carry his panel for a shield."

Gerardpricked up his ears at this: so she told him more. Pietro had comefrom Florence with money in his purseand an unfinished picture; hadtaken her one unfurnished roomopposite Gerard'sand furnished itneatly. When his picture was finishedhe received visitors and hadoffers for it: though in her opinion liberal oneshe had refused sodisdainfully as to make enemies of his customers. Since then he hadoften taken it out with him to try and sellbut had always broughtit back; and the last monthshe had seen one movable after anothergo out of his roomand now he wore but one suitand lay at night ona great chest. She had found this out only by peeping through thekeyholefor he locked the door most vigilantly whenever he went out."Is he afraid we shall steal his chestor his picturethat nosoul in all Rome is weak enough to buy?"

"Naysweet hostess; see you not 'tis his poverty he would screen fromview?"

"Andthe more fool he! Are all our hearts as ill as his? A might give us atrial firstanyway."

"Howyou speak of him. Whyhis case is mine; and your countryman toboot."

"Ohwe Siennese love strangers. His case yours? Nay'tis just thecontrary. You are the comeliest youth ever lodged in this house; hairlike gold: he is a darksour-visaged loon. Besidesyou know how totake a woman on her better side; but not he. NathelessI wish hewould not starve to death in my houseto get me a bad name. Anywayone starveling is enough in any house. You are far from homeand itis for mewhich am the mistress hereto number your meals - for meand the Dutch wifeyour motherthat is far away: we two women shallsettle that matter. Mind thou thine own businessbeing a manandleave cooking and the like to usthat are in the world for littleelse that I see but to roast fowlsand suckle men at startingandsweep their grownup cobwebs."

"Dearkind damein sooth you do often put me in mind of my mother that isfar away."

"Allthe better; I'll put you more in mind of her before I have done withyou." And the honest soul beamed with pleasure.

Gerardnot being an egotistnor blinded by female partialitiessaw his owngrief in poor proud Pietro; and the more he thought of it the more heresolved to share his humble means with that unlucky artist; Pietro'ssympathy would repay him. He tried to waylay him; but withoutsuccess.

Oneday he heard a groaning in the room. He knocked at the doorbutreceived no answer. He knocked again. A surly voice bade him enter.

Heobeyed somewhat timidlyand entered a garret furnished with a chaira pictureface to wallan iron basinan easeland a long cheston which was coiled a haggard young man with a wonderfully brighteye. Anything more like a coiled cobra ripe for striking the firstcomer was never seen.

"GoodSignor Pietro" said Gerard"forgive me thatweary of myown solitudeI intrude on yours; but I am your nighest neighbour inthis houseand methinks your brother in fortune. I am an artisttoo."

"Youare a painter? Welcomesigner. Sit down on my bed."

AndPietro jumped off and waved him into the vacant throne with amagnificent demonstration of courtesy.

Gerardbowedand smiled; but hesitated a little. "I may not callmyself a painter. I am a writera caligraph. I copy Greek and Latinmanuscriptswhen I can get them to copy."

"Andyou call that an artist?"

"Withoutoffence to your superior meritSignor Pietro."

"Nooffencestrangernone. Onlymeseemeth an artist is one who thinksand paints his thought. Now a caligraph but draws in black and whitethe thoughts of another."

"'Tiswell distinguishedsignor. But thena writer can write the thoughtsof the great ancientsand matters of pure reasonsuch as no man maypaint: ayand the thoughts of Godwhich angels could not paint. Butlet that pass. I am a painter as well; but a sorry one."

"Thebetter thy luck. 'They will buy thy work in Rome."

"Butseeking to commend myself to one of thy eminenceI thought it wellrather to call myself a capable writerthan a scurvy painter."

Atthis moment a step was heard on the stair. "Ah! 'tis the gooddame" cried Gerard. "What oh! hostessI am here inconversation with Signor Pietro. I dare say he will let me have myhumble dinner here."

TheItalian bowed gravely.

Thelandlady brought in Gerard's dinner smoking and savoury. She put thedish down on the bed with a face divested of all expressionandwent.

Gerardfell to. But ere he had eaten many mouthfulshe stoppedand said:"I am an ill-mannered churlSignor Pietro. I ne'er eat to mymind when I eat alone. For our Lady's sake put a spoon into thisragout with me; 'tis not unsavouryI promise you."

Pietrofixed his glittering eye on him.

"Whatgood youththou a strangerand offerest me thy dinner?"

"Whyseethere is more than one can eat."

"WellI accept" said Pietro; and took the dish with some appearanceof calmnessand flung the contents out of window.

Thenhe turnedtrembling with mortification and ireand said: "Letthat teach thee to offer alms to an artist thou knowest notmasterwriter."

Gerard'sface flushed with angerand it cost him a bitter struggle not to boxthis high-souled creature's ears. And then to go and destroy goodfood! His mother's milk curdled in his veins with horror at suchimpiety. Finallypity at Pietro's petulance and egotismand a touchof respect for poverty-struck prideprevailed.

Howeverhe said coldly"Likely what thou hast done might pass in anovel of thy countrymanSignor Boccaccio; but 'twas not honest."

"Makethat good!" said the painter sullenly.

"Ioffered thee half my dinner; no more. But thou hast ta'en it all.Hadst a right to throw away thy sharebut not mine. Pride is wellbut justice is better."

Pietrostaredthen reflected.

"'Tiswell. I took thee for a foolso transparent was thine artifice.Forgive me! And prithee leave me! Thou seest how 'tis with me. Theworld hath soured me. I hate mankind. I was not always so. Once moreexcuse that my discourtesyand fare thee well."

Gerardsighedand made for the door.

Butsuddenly a thought struck him. "Signor Pietro" said he"we Dutchmen are hard bargainers. We are the lads 'een eijscheeren' that is'to shave an egg.' ThereforeIfor my lostdinnerdo claim to feast mine eyes on your picturewhose face istoward the wall."

"Naynay" said the painter hastily"ask me not that; I havealready misconducted myself enough towards thee. I would not shed thyblood."

"Saintsforbid! My blood?"

"Stranger"said Pietro sullenly"irritated by repeated insults to mypicturewhich is my childmy heartI did in a moment of rage makea solemn vow to drive my dagger into the next one that should floutitand the labour and love that I have given to it."

"Whatare all to be slain that will not praise this picture?" and helooked at its back with curiosity.

"Naynay; if you would but look at itand hold your parrot tongues. Butyou will be talking. So I have turned it to the wall for ever. WouldI were deadand buried in it for my coffin!"

Gerardreflected.

"Iaccept the condition. Show me the picture! I can but hold my peace."

Pietrowent and turned its faceand put it in the best light the roomaffordedand coiled himself again on his chestwith his eyeandstilettoglittering.

Thepicture represented the Virgin and Christflying through the air ina sort of cloud of shadowy cherubic faces; underneath was alandscapeforty or fifty miles in extentand a purple sky above.

Gerardstood and looked at it in silence. Then he stepped closeand looked.Then he retired as far off as he couldand looked; but said not aword.

Whenhe had been at this game half an hourPietro cried out querulouslyand somewhat inconsistently: "wellhave you not a word to sayabout it?"

Gerardstarted. "I cry your mercy; I forgot there were three of ushere. AyI have much to say." And he drew his sword.

"Alas!alas!" cried Pietrojumping in terror from his lair. "Whatwouldst thou?"

"Marrydefend myself against thy bodkinsignor; and at due oddsbeingasaforesaida Dutchman. Thereforehold aloofwhile I deliverjudgmentor I will pin thee to the wall like a cockchafer."

"Oh!is that all?" said Pietrogreatly relieved. "I feared youwere going to stab my poor picture with your swordstabbed alreadyby so many foul tongues."

Gerard"pursued criticism under difficulties." Put himself in aposition of defencewith his sword's point covering Pietroand oneeye glancing aside at the picture. "FirstsignorI would haveyou know thatin the mixing of certain coloursand in thepreparation of your oilyou Italians are far behind us Flemings. Butlet that flea stick. For as small as I amI can show you certainsecrets of the Van Eycksthat you will put to marvellous profit inyour next picture. Meantime I see in this one the great qualities ofyour nation. Verilyye are solis filii. If we have colouryou haveimagination. Mother of Heaven! an he hath not flung his immortal soulupon the panel. One thing I go by is this; it makes other pictures Ionce admired seem drossyearth-born things. The drapery here issomewhat short and stiff. why not let it float freelythe figuresbeing in air and motion?

"Iwill! I will!" cried Pietro eagerly. "I will do anythingfor those who will but see what I have done."

"Humph!This landscape it enlightens me. Henceforth I scorn those littlehuddled landscapes that did erst content me. Here is nature's veryface: a spacious plaineach distance markedand every treehousefigurefieldand river smaller and less plainby exquisitegradationtill vision itself melts into distance. Obeautiful! Andthe cunning rogue hath hung his celestial figure in air out of theway of his little world below. Herefloating saints beneath heaven'spurple canopy. Therefar downearth and her busy hives. And theylet you take this painted poetrythis blooming hymnthrough thestreets of Rome and bring it home unsold. But I tell thee in Ghent orBrugesor even in Rotterdamthey would tear it out of thy hands.But it is a common saying that a stranger's eye sees clearest.CouragePietro Vanucci! I reverence thee and though myself a scurvypainterdo forgive thee for being a great one. Forgive thee? I thankGod for thee and such rare men as thou art; and bow the knee to theein just homage. Thy picture is immortaland thouthat hast but achest to sit onart a king in thy most royal art. Vivail maEstro!Viva!"

Atthis unexpected burst the painterwith all the abandon of hisnationflung himself on Gerard's neck. "They said it was amaniac's dream" he sobbed.

"Maniacsthemselves! noidiots!" shouted Gerard.

"Generousstranger! I will hate men no more since the world hath such as thee.I was a viper to fling thy poor dinner away; a wretcha monster."

"Wellmonsterwilt be gentle nowand sup with me?"

"Ah!that I will. Whither goest thou?"

"Toorder supper on the instant. We will have the picture for third man."

"Iwill invite it whiles thou art gone. My poor picturechild of myheart."

"Ahmaster'twill look on many a supper after the worms have eaten youand me."

"Ihope so" said Pietro.

 

CHAPTERLVII

Abouta week after this the two friends sat working together. but not inthe same spirit. Pietro dashed fitfully at hisand did wonders in afew minutesand then did nothingexcept abuse it; then presentlyresumed it in a furyto lay it down with a groan. Through all whichkept calmly workingcalmly smilingthe canny Dutchman.

Tobe plainGerardwho never had a friend he did not masterhad puthis Onagra in harness. The friends were painting playing cards toboil the pot.

Whendonethe indignant master took up his picture to make his daily tourin search of a customer.

Gerardbegged him to take the cards as welland try and sell them. Helooked all the rattle-snakebut eventually embraced Gerard in theItalian fashionand took themafter first drying the last-finishedones in the sunwhich was now powerful in that happy clime.

Gerardleft aloneexecuted a Greek letter or twoand then mended a littlerent in his hose. His landlady found him thus employedand inquiredironically whether there were no women in the house.

"Whenyou have done that" said she "come and talk to Teresamyfriend I spoke to thee ofthat hath a husband not good for muchwhich brags his acquaintance with the great."

Gerardwent downand who should Teresa be but the Roman matron.

"Ahmadama" said he"is it you? The good dame told me notthat. And the little fair-haired boyis he well is he none the worsefor his voyage in that strange boat?"

"Heis well" said the matron.

"Whywhat are you two talking about?" said the landladystaring atthem both in turn; "and why tremble you soTeresa mia?"

"Hesaved my child's life" said Teresamaking an effort to composeherself.

"What!my lodger? and he never told me a word of that. Art not ashamed tolook me in the face?"

"Alas!speak not harshly to him" said the matron. She then turned toher friend and poured out a glowing description of Gerard's conductduring which Gerard stood blushing like a girland scarcerecognizing his own performancegratitude painted it so fair.

"Andto think thou shouldst ask me to serve thy lodgerof whom I knewnought but that he had thy good wordohFiammina; and that wasenough for me. Dear youthin serving thee I serve myself."

Thenensued an eager descriptionby the two womenof what had been doneand what should be doneto penetrate the thick wall of feescommissionsand chicanerywhich stood between the patrons of artand an unknown artist in the Eternal City.

Teresasmiled sadly at Gerard's simplicity in leaving specimens of his skillat the doors of the great.

"What!"said she"without promising the servants a share - without evenfeeing themto let the signors see thy merchandise! As well haveflung it into Tiber."

"Well-a-day!"sighed Gerard. "Then how is an artist to find a patron? forartists are poornot rich."

"Bygoing to some city nobler and not so greedy as this" saidTeresa. "La corte Romana non vuol' pecora senza lana."

Shefell into thoughtand said she would come again to-morrow.

Thelandlady felicitated Gerard. "Teresa has got something in herhead" said she.

Teresawas scarce gone when Pietro returned with his picturelooking blackas thunder. Gerard exchanged a glance with the landladyand followedhim upstairs to console him.

"Whathave they let thee bring home thy masterpiece?"

"Asheretofore."

"Morefools theythen."

"Thatis not the worse."

"Whywhat is the matter?"

"Theyhave bought the cards" yelled Pietroand hammered the airfuriously right and left.

"Allthe better" said Gerard cheerfully.

"Theyflew at me for them. They were enraptured with them. They tried toconceal their longing for thembut could not. I sawI feignedIpillaged; curse the boobies."

Andhe flung down a dozen small silver coins on the floor and jumped onthemand danced on them with basilisk eyesand then kicked themassiduouslyand sent them spinning and flyingand running allabroad. Down went Gerard on his kneesand followed the maltreatedinnocents directlyand transferred them tenderly to his purse.

"Shouldstrather smile at their ignoranceand put it to profit" said he.

"Andso I will" said Pietrowith concentrated indignation. "Thebrutes! We will paint a pack a day; we will set the whole citygambling and ruining itselfwhile we live like princes on its vicesand stupidity. There was one of the queensthoughI had fain havekept back. 'Twas you limned herbrother. She had lovely red-brownhair and sapphire eyesand above allsoul."

"Pietro"said Gerard softly"I painted that one from my heart."

Thequick-witted Italian noddedand his eyes twinkled.

"Youlove her so wellyet leave her."

"Pietroit is because I love her so dear that I have wandered all this wearyroad."

Thisinteresting colloquy was interrupted by the landlady crying frombelow"Come downyou are wanted." He went downand therewas Teresa again.

"Comewith meSer Gerard."

 

CHAPTERLVIII

Gerardwalked silently beside Teresawondering in his own mindafter themanner of artistswhat she was going to do with him; instead ofasking her. So at last she told him of her own accord. A friend hadinformed her of a working goldsmith's wife who wanted a writer. "Hershop is hard by; you will not have far to go."

Accordinglythey soon arrived at the goldsmith's wife.

"Madama"said Teresa"Leonora tells me you want a writer: I have broughtyou a beautiful one; he saved my child at sea. Prithee look on himwith favour.

Thegoldsmith's wife complied in one sense. She fixed her eyes onGerard's comely faceand could hardly take them off again. But herreply was unsatisfactory. "NayI have no use for a writer. Ah!I mind nowit is my gossipClaeliathe sausage-makerwants one;she told meand I told Leonora."

Teresamade a courteous speech and withdrew.

Claelialived at some distanceand when they reached her house she was out.Teresa said calmly"I will await her return" and sat sostilland dignifiedand statuesquethat Gerard was beginningfurtively to draw herwhen Claelia returned.

"MadamaI hear from the goldsmith's wifethe excellent Olympiathat youneed a writer" (here she took Gerard by the hand and led himforward); "I have brought you a beautiful one; he saved my childfrom the cruel waves. For our Lady's sake look with favour on him."

"Mygood damemy fair Ser" said Claelia"I have no use for awriter; but now you remind meit was my friend Appia Claudia askedme for one but the other day. She is a tailorlives in the ViaLepida."

Teresaretired calmly.

"Madama"said Gerard"this is likely to be a tedious business for you."

Teresaopened her eyes.

"Whatwas ever done without a little patience?" She added mildly"Wewill knock at every door at Rome but you shall have justice."

"ButmadamaI think we are dogged. I noticed a man that follows ussometimes afarsometimes close."

"Ihave seen it" said Teresa coldly; but her cheek colouredfaintly. "It is my poor Lodovico."

Shestopped and turnedand beckoned with her finger.

Afigure approached them somewhat unwillingly.

Whenhe came upshe gazed him full in the faceand he looked sheepish.

"Lodovicomio" said she"know this young Serof whom I have sooften spoken to thee. Know him and love himfor he it was who savedthy wife and child."

Atthese last words Lodovicowho had been bowing and grinningartificiallysuddenly changed to an expression of heartfeltgratitudeand embraced Gerard warmly.

Yetsomehow there was something in the man's original mannerand hishaving followed his wife by stealththat made Gerard uncomfortableunder this caress. Howeverhe said"We shall have yourcompanySer Lodovico?"

"Nosignor" replied Lodovico"I go not on that side Tiber."

"Addiothen" said Teresa significantly.

"Whenshall you return homeTeresa mia?"

"WhenI have done mine errandLodovico."

Theypursued their way in silence. Teresa now wore a sad and almost gloomyair.

Tobe briefAppia Claudia was mercifuland did not send them overTiber againbut only a hundred yards down the street to Lucretiawho kept the glove shop; she it was wanted a writer; but what forAppia Claudia could not conceive. Lucretia was a merry little damewho received them heartily enoughand told them she wanted nowriterkept all her accounts in her head. "It was for myconfessorFather Colonna; he is mad after them."

"Ihave heard of his excellency" said Teresa.

"Whohas not?"

"Butgood damehe is a friar; he has made vow of poverty. I cannot letthe young man write and not be paid. He saved my child at sea.

"Didhe now?" And Lucretia cast an approving look on Gerard. "Wellmake your mind easy; a Colonna never wants for money. The good fatherhas only to say the wordand the princes of his race will pour athousand crowns into his lap. And such a confessordame! the best inRome. His head is leagues and leagues away all the while; he neverheeds what you are saying. WhyI think no more of confessing my sinsto him than of telling them to that wall. Onceto try himIconfessedalong with the restas how I had killed my lodger'slittle girl and baked her in a pie. Wellwhen my voice left offconfessinghe started out of his dreamand says hea mustering upa gloom'My erring sistersay three Paternosters and three AveMarias kneelingand eat no butter nor eggs next Wednesdayand paxvobiscum!' and off a went with his hands behind himlooking as ifthere was no such thing as me in the world."

Teresawaited patientlythen calmly brought this discursive lady back tothe point: "Would she be so kind as go with this good youth tothe friar and speak for him?"

"Alack!how can I leave my shop? And what need? His door is aye open towritersand paintersand scholarsand all such cattle. Whyoneday he would not receive the Duke d'Urbinobecause a learned Greekwas closeted with himand the friar's head and his so close togetherover a dusty parchment just come in from Greeceas you could put onecowl over the pair. His wench Onesta told me. She mostly looks inhere for a chat when she goes an errand."

"Thisis the man for theemy friend" said Teresa.

"Allyou have to do" continued Lucretia"is to go to hislodgings (my boy shall show them you)and tell Onesta you come frommeand you are a writerand she will take you up to him. If you puta piece of silver in the wench's hand'twill do you no harm: thatstands to reason."

"Ihave silver" said Teresa warmly.

"Butstay" said Lucretia"mind one thing. What the young mansaith he can dothat he must be able to door let him shun the goodfriar like poison. He is a very wild beast against all bunglers. Why'twas but t'other dayone brought him an ill-carved crucifix. Sayshe'Is this how you present "Salvator Mundi?" who died foryou in mortal agony; and you go and grudge him careful work. Thisslovenly gimcracka crucifix? But that it is a crucifix of somesortand I am a holy manI'd dust your jacket with your crucifix'says he. Onesta heard every word through the key-hole; so mind.'

"Haveno fearsmadama" said Teresa loftily. "I will answer forhis ability; he saved my child."

Gerardwas not subtle enough to appreciate this conclusion; and was so farfrom sharing Teresa's confidence that he begged a respite. He wouldrather not go to the friar to-day: would not to-morrow do as well?

"Hereis a coward for ye" said Lucretia.

"Nohe is not a coward" said Teresafiring up; "he ismodest."

"Iam afraid of this high-bornfastidious friar" said Gerard"Consider he has seen the handiwork of all the writers in Italydear dame Teresa; if you would but let me prepare a better piece ofwork than yet I have doneand then to-morrow I will face him withit."

"Iconsent" said Teresa.

Theywalked home together.

Notfar from his own lodging was a shop that sold vellum. there was abeautiful white skin in the window. Gerard looked at it wistfully;but he knew he could not pay for it; so he went on rather hastily.Howeverhe soon made up his mind where to get vellumand partingwith Teresa at his own doorran hastily upstairsand took the bondhe had brought all the way from Sevenbergenand laid it with a sighon the table. He then prepared with his chemicals to erase the oldwriting; but as this was his last chance of reading ithe nowovercame his deadly repugnance to bad writingand proceeded todecipher the deed in spite of its detestable contractions. Itappeared by this deed that Ghysbrecht Van Swieten was to advance somemoney to Floris Brandt on a piece of landand was to repay himselfout of the rent.

Onthis Gerard felt it would be imprudent and improper to destroy thedeed. On the contraryhe vowed to decipher every wordat hisleisure. He went downstairsdetermined to buy a small piece ofvellum with his half of the card-money.

Atthe bottom of the stairs he found the landlady and Teresa talking. Atsight of him the former cried"Here he is. You are caughtdonna mia. See what she has bought you?" And whipped out fromunder her apron the very skin of vellum Gerard had longed for.

"Whydame! whydonna Teresa!" And he was speechless with pleasureand astonishment.

"Deardonna Teresathere is not a skin in all Rome like it. However cameyou to hit on this one? 'Tis glamour."

"Alasdear boydid not thine eye rest on it with desire? and didst thou notsigh in turning away from it? And was it for Teresa to let thee wantthe thing after that?"

"Whatsagacity! what goodnessmadama! OhdameI never thought I shouldpossess this. What did you pay for it?"

"Iforget. AddioFiammina. AddioSer Gerard. Be happybe prosperousas you are good." And the Roman matron glided away while Gerardwas hesitatingand thinking how to offer to pay so stately acreature for her purchase.

Thenext day in the afternoon he went to Lucretiaand her boy took himto Fra Colonna's lodgings. He announced his businessand feedOnestaand she took him up to the friar. Gerard entered with abeating heart. The rooma large onewas strewed and heaped withobjects of artantiquityand learninglying about in richprofusionand confusion. Manuscriptspicturescarvings in wood andivorymusical instruments; and in this glorious chaos sat the friarporing intently over an Arabian manuscript.

Helooked up a little peevishly at the interruption. Onesta whispered inhis ear.

"Verywell" said he. "Let him be seated. Stay; young manshowme how you write?" And he threw Gerard a piece of paperandpointed to an inkhorn.

"Soplease youreverend father" said Gerard"my hand ittrembleth too much at this moment; but last night I wrote a vellumpage of Greekand the Latin version by its sideto show the variouscharacter."

"Showit me?"

Gerardbrought the work to him in fear and trembling; then stood heart-sickawaiting his verdict.

Whenit came it staggered him. For the verdict wasa Dominican falling onhis neck.

Thenext day an event took place in Hollandthe effect of which onGerard's destinyno mortal at the timenor even my intelligentreader nowcouldI thinkforesee.

Marchedup to Eli's door a pageant brave to the eye of senseand to thevulgar judgment noblebut to the philosophicpitiable more or less.

Itlooked one animala centaur; but on severe analysis proved two. Thehuman half were sadly bedizened with those two metalsto clothe hiscarcass with which and line his pouchman has now and then disposedof his soul: still the horse was the vainer brute of the two; he wasfar worse beflouncedbebonnetedand bemantledthan any fair ladyregnante crinolina. For the manunder the colour of a warming-panretained Nature's outline. But it was subaudi equum! Scarce apennyweight of honest horse-flesh to be seen. Our crinoline sparesthe noble parts of womenand makes but the baser parts gigantic (whythis preference?); but this poor animal from stem to stern wasswamped in finery. His ears were hid in great sheaths of white linentipped with silver and blue. His body swaddled in stiff gorgeouscloths descending to the groundexcept just in frontwhere theyleft him room to mince. His tailthough dear to memoryno doubtwas lost to sightbeing tucked in heaven knows how. Only his eyesshone out like gogglesthrough two holes pierced in the wall ofhaberdasheryand his little front hoofs peeped in and out like rats.

Yetdid this compoundgorgeous and irrationalrepresent power; absolutepower: it came straight from a tournament at the Duke's courtwhichbeing on a progresslay last night at a neighbouring town - toexecute the behests of royalty.

"Whatho!" cried the upper halfand on Eli emergingwith his wifebehind himsaluted them. "Peace be with yougood people.Rejoice! I am come for your dwarf."

Elilooked amazedand said nothing. But Catherine screamed over hisshoulder"You have mistook your roadgood man; here abides nodwarf."

"Naywifehe means our Gileswho is somewhat small of stature: whygainsay what gainsayed may not be?"

"Ay!"cried the pageant"that is heand discourseth like the bigtaber.

"Hisbreast is sound for that matter" said Catherine sharply.

"Andprompt with his fists though at long odds."

"Elsehow would the poor thing keep his head in such a world as this?"

"'Tiswell saiddame. Art as ready with thy weapon as he; art his motherlikely. So bring him forthand that presently. Seethey lead astunted mule for him. The Duke hath need of himsore need; we areclean out o' dwarvenand tiger-catswhich may not bewhiles earththem yieldeth. Our last hop o' my thumb tumbled down the well t'otherday."

"Andthink you I'll let my darling go to such an ill-guided house as youwhere the reckless trollops of servants close not the well mouthbutleave it open to trap innocentslike wolven?"

Therepresentative of autocracy lost patience at this unwontedoppositionand with stern look and voice bade her bethink herwhether it was the better of the two; "to have your abortion atcourt fed like a bishop and put on like a princeor to have all yourheads stricken off and borne on poleswith the bellman crying'Behold the heads of hardy rebelswhich having by good luck amisbegotten sondid traitorously grudge him to the Dukewho is thetrue father of all his folklittle or mickle?'

"Nay"said Eli sadly"miscall us not. We be true folkand neitherrebels nor traitors. But 'tis suddenand the poor lad is our trueflesh and bloodand hath of late given proof of more sense thanheretofore."

"Availsnot threatening our lives" whimpered Catherine; "we grudgehim not to the Duke; but in sooth he cannot go; his linen is all inholes. So there is an end."

Butthe male mind resisted this crusher.

"Thinkyou the Duke will not find linenand cloth of gold to boot? None sobravenone so affectedat courtas our monstersbig or wee."

Howlong the dispute might have lastedbefore the iron arguments ofdespotism achieved the inevitable victoryI know not; but it was cutshort by a party whom neither disputant had deigned to consult.

Thebone of contention walked out of the houseand sided with monarchy.

"Ifmy folk are madI am not" he roared. "I'll go with youand on the instant."

Atthis Catherine set up a piteous cry. She saw another of her broodescaping from under her wing into some unknown element. Giles was notquite insensible to her distressso simple yet so eloquent. He said"Naytake not onmother! Why'tis a godsend. And I am sick ofthisever since Gerard left it."

"Ahcruel Giles! Should ye not rather say she is bereaved of

Gerard:the more need of you to stay aside her and comfort her."

"Oh!I am not going to Rome. Not such a fool. I shall never be fartherthan Rotterdam; and I'll often come and see you; and if I like notthe placewho shall keep me there? Not all the dukes inChristendom."

"Goodsense lies in little bulk" said the emissary approvingly."ThereforeMaster Gilesbuss the old folkand thank them formisbegetting of thee; and ho! you - bring hither his mule."

Oneof his retinue brought up the dwarf mule. Giles refused it withscorn. And on being asked the reasonsaid it was not just.

"What!would ye throw all into one scale! Put muckle to muckleand littleto wee! BesidesI hate and scorn small things. I'll go on thehighest horse hereor not at all."

Thepursuivant eyed him attentively a moment. He then adopted a courteousmanner. "I shall study your will in all things reasonable.(DismountEricyours is the highest horse.) And if you would haltin the town an hour or sowhile you bid them farewellsay but thewordand your pleasure shall be my delight."

Gilesreflected.

"Master"said he"if we wait a month'twill be still the same: mymother is a good soulbut her body is bigger than her spirit. Weshall not part without a tear or twoand the quicker 'tis done thefewer; so bring yon horse to me."

Catherinethrew her apron over her face and sobbed. The high horse was broughtand Giles was for swarming up his taillike a rope; but one of theservants cried out hastily"Forbearfor he kicketh.""I'll kick him" said Giles. "Bring him close beneaththis windowand I'll learn you all how to mount a horse whichkickethand will not be clomb by the tailthe staircase of ahorse." And he dashed into the houseand almost immediatelyreappeared at an upper windowwith a rope in his hand. He fastenedan end somehowand holding the otherdescended as swift and smoothas an oiled thunderbolt in a grooveand lighted astride his highhorse as unperceived by that animal as a fly settling on him.

Theofficial lifted his hands to heaven in mawkish admiration. "Ihave gotten a pearl" thought he"and wow but this will bea good day's work for me."

"Comefathercomemotherbuss meand bless meand off I go."

Eligave him his blessingand bade him be honest and trueand a creditto his folk. Catherine could not speakbut clung to him with manysobs and embraces; and even through the mist of tears her eyedetected in a moment the little rent in his sleeve he had madegetting out of windowand she whipped out her needle and mended itthen and thereand her tears fell on his arm the whileunheeded -except by those unfleshly eyeswith which they say the very air isthronged.

Andso the dwarf mounted the high horseand rode away complacent withthe old hand laying the court butter on his back with a trowel.

Littlerecked Perpusillus of two poor silly females that sat by the bereavedhearthrocking themselvesand weepingand discussing all hisvirtuesand how his mind had opened latelyand blind as two beetlesto his faultswho rode away from themjocund and bold.
Ingentesanimos angusto pectore versans.

Arrivedat court he speedily became a great favourite.

Onestrange propensity of his electrified the palace; but on account ofhis small sizeand for variety's sakeand as a monsterhe wasindulged on it. In a wordhe was let speak the truth.

Itis an unpopular thing.

Hemade it an intolerable one.

Bawledit.

 

CHAPTERLIX

Happythe man who has two chain-cables:Meritand Women.

Ohthat Ilike Gerardhad a 'chaine des dames' to pull up by.

Iwould be prose laureator professor of the spasmodicor somethingin no time. En attendantI will sketch the Fra Colonna.

Thetrue revivers of ancient learning and philosophy were two writers offiction - Petrarch and Boccaccio.

Theirlabours were not crowned with greatpublicand immediate success;but they sowed the good seed; and it never perishedbut quickened inthe soilawaiting sunshine.

Fromtheir day Italy was never without a native scholar or twoversed inGreek; and each learned Greek who landed there was receivedfraternally. The fourteenth centuryere its closesaw the birth ofPoggioVallaand the elder Guarino; and early in the fifteenthFlorence under Cosmo de Medici was a nest of Platonists. Theseheaded by Gemistus Plethoa born Greekbegan about A.D. 1440 towrite down Aristotle. For few minds are big enough to be just togreat A without being unjust to capital B.

TheodoreGaza defended that great man with moderation; George of Trebizondwith acerbityand retorted on Plato. Then Cardinal Bessarionanother born Greekresisted the said Georgeand his idolin atract "Adversus calumniatorem Platonis."

Pugnacitywhether wise or notis a form of vitality. Born withoutcontroversial bile in so zealous an epochFrancesco Colonnaa youngnobleman of Florencelived for the arts. At twenty he turnedDominican friar. His object was quiet study. He retired from idlecompanyand faction fightsthe humming and the stinging of thehuman hiveto St. Dominic and the Nine Muses.

Aneager student of languagespicturesstatueschronologycoinsandmonumental inscriptions. These last loosened his faith in popularhistories.

Hetravelled many years in the Eastand returned laden with spoils;master of several choice MSS.and versed in Greek and LatinHebrewand Syriac. He found his country had not stood still. Other letteredprinces besides Cosmo had sprung up. Alfonso King of NaplesNicolasd'EsteLionel d'Esteetc. Above allhis old friend Thomas ofSarzana had been made Popeand had lent a mighty impulse to letters;had accumulated 5000 MSS. in the library of the Vaticanand had setPoggio to translate Diodorus Siculus and Xenophon's CyropaediaLaurentius Valla to translate Herodotus and ThucydidesTheodoreGazaTheophrastus; George of TrebizondEusebiusand certaintreatises of Plato. etc. etc.

Themonk found Plato and Aristotle under armisticebut Poggio and Vallaat loggerheads over verbs and nounsand on fire with odiumphilologicum. All this was heaven; and he settled down in his nativelandhis life a rosy dream. None so happy as the versatileprovidedthey have not their bread to make by it. And Fra Colonna wasVersatility. He knew seven or eight languagesand a littlemathematics; could write a bitpaint a bitmodel a bitsing a bitstrum a bit; and could relish superior excellence in all thesebranches. For this last trait he deserved to be as happy as he was.Forgauge the intellects of your acquaintancesand you will findbut few whose minds arc neither deafnor blindnor dead to somegreat art or science -
"And wisdom at one entrance quite shutout." And such of them as are conceited as well as stupid shalleven parade instead of blushing for the holes in their intellects.

Azealot in artthe friar was a sceptic in religion.

Inevery age there are a few men who hold the opinions of another agepast or future. Being a lump of simplicityhis sceptism was as naifas his enthusiasm. He affected to look on the religious ceremonies ofhis day as his modelsthe heathen philosophersregarded the worshipof gods and departed heroes: mummeries good for the populace. Buthere his mind drew unconsciously a droll distinction. WhateverChristian ceremony his learning taught him was of purely paganoriginthat he respectedout of respect for antiquity; though hadhewith his turn of mindbeen a pagan and its contemporaryhewould have scorned it from his philosophic heights.

FraColonna was charmed with his new artistand having the run of halfthe palaces in Romesounded his praises sothat he was soon calledupon to resign him. He told Gerard what great princes wanted him."But I am so happy with youfather" objected Gerard."Fiddlestick about being happy with me" said Fra Colonna;"you must not be happy; you must be a man of the world; thegrand lesson I impress on the young isbe a man of the world. Nowthese Montesini can pay you three times as much as I canand theyshall too-by Jupiter."

Andthe friar clapped a terrific price on Gerard's pen. It was acceded towithout a murmur. Much higher prices were going for copying thanauthorship ever obtained for centuries under the printing press.

Gerardhad three hundred crowns for Aristotle's treatise on rhetoric.

Thegreat are mighty sweet upon all their petswhile the fancy lasts;and in the rage for Greek MSS. the handsome writer soon became a petand nobles of both sexes caressed him like a lap dog.

Itwould have turned a vain fellow's head; but the canny Dutchman sawthe steel hand beneath the velvet gloveand did not presume.Nevertheless it was a proud day for him when he found himself seatedwith Fra Colonna at the table of his present employerCardinalBessarion. They were about a mile from the top of that table; butnever mindthere they were and Gerard had the advantage of seeingroast pheasants dished up with all their feathers as if they had justflown out of a coppice instead of off the spit: also chickens cookedin bottlesand tender as peaches. But the grand novelty was thenapkinssurpassingly fineand folded into cocked hatsand birds'wingsand fansetc.instead of lying flat. This electrifiedGerard; though my readers have seen the dazzling phenomenon withouttumbling backwards chair and all.

Afterdinner the tables were split in piecesand carried awayand lounder each was another table spread with sweetmeats. The signoras andsignorinas fell upon them and gormandized; but the signors eyed themwith reasonable suspicion.

"Butdear father" objected Gerard"I see not the bifurcaldaggerswith which men say his excellency armeth the left hand of aman."

"Nay'tis the Cardinal Orsini which hath invented yon peevish instrumentfor his guests to fumble their meat withal. Onebeing in hastedidskewer his tongue to his palate with itI hear; O temporaO mores!The ancientsreclining godlike at their feastshow had they spurnedsuch pedantries."

Assoon as the ladies had disported themselves among the sugar-plumsthe tables were suddenly removedand the guests sat in a row againstthe wall. Then came inducking and scrapingtwo ecclesiastics withlutesand kneeled at the cardinal's feet and there sang the serviceof the day; then retired with a deep obeisance: In answer to whichthe cardinal fingered his skull cap as our late Iron Duke his hat:the company dispersedand Gerard had dined with a cardinal and onethat had thrice just missed being pope.

Butgreater honour was in store.

Oneday the cardinal sent for himand after praising the beauty of hiswork took him in his coach to the Vatican; and up a private stair toa luxurious little roomwith a great oriel window. Here wereinkstandssloping frames for writing onand all the instruments ofart. The cardinal whispered a courtierand presently the Pope'sprivate secretary appeared with a glorious grimy old MS. ofPlutarch's Lives. And soon Gerard was seated alone copying itawe-struckyet half delighted at the thought that his holiness wouldhandle his work and read it.

Thepapal inkstands were all glorious externally; but within the ink wasvile. But Gerard carried ever good inkhome-madein a dirty littleinkhorn: he prayed on his knees for a firm and skilful handand setto work.

Oneside of his room was nearly occupied by a massive curtain divided inthe centre; but its ample folds overlapped. After a while Gerard feltdrawn to peep through that curtain. He resisted the impulse. Itreturned. It overpowered him. He left Plutarch; stole across thematted floor; took the folds of the curtainand gently gathered themup with his fingersand putting his nose through the chink ran itagainst a cold steel halbert. Two soldiersarmed cap-a-piewereholding their glittering weapons crossed in a triangle. Gerard drewswiftly back; but in that instant he heard the soft murmur of voicesand saw a group of persons cringing before some hidden figure.

Henever repeated his attempt to pry through the guarded curtain; butoften eyed it. Every hour or so an ecclesiastic peeped ineyed himchilled himand exit. All this was gloomyand mechanical. But thenext day a gentlemanrichly armedbounced inand glared at him."What is toward here?" said he.

Gerardtold him he was writing out Plutarchwith the help of the saints.The spark said he did not know the signor in question. Gerardexplained the circumstances of time and space that had deprived theSignor Plutarch of the advantage of the spark's conversation.

Oh!one of those old dead Greeks they keep such a coil about."

"Aysignorone of themwhobeing deadyet live."

"Iunderstand you notyoung man" said the noblewith all thedignity of ignorance. "What did the old fellow write? Lovestories?" and his eyes sparkled: "merry taleslikeBoccaccio."

"Naylives of heroes and sages."

"Soldiersand popes?"

"Soldiersand princes."

"Wiltread me of them some day?"

"Andwillinglysignor. But what would they say who employ mewere I tobreak off work?"

"Ohnever heed that; know you not who I am? I am Jacques Bonaventuranephew to his holiness the Popeand captain of his guards. And Icame here to look after my fellows. I trow they have turned them outof their room for you." Signor Bonaventura then hurried away.This lively companionhoweverhaving acquired a habit of runninginto that little roomand finding Gerard good companyoften lookedin on himand chattered ephemeralities while Gerard wrote theimmortal lives.

Oneday he came a changed and moody manand threw himself into chaircrying"Ahtraitress! traitress!" Gerard inquired whatwas his ill? "Traitress! traitress!" was the reply.Whereupon Gerard wrote Plutarch. Then says Bonaventura"I ammelancholy; and for our Lady's sake read me a story out of SerPlutarchoto soothe my bile: in all that Greek is there nought aboutlovers betrayed?"

Gerardread him the life of Alexander. He got excitedmarched about theroomand embracing the readervowed to shun "soft delights"that bed of nettlesand follow glory.

Whoso happy now as Gerard? His art was honouredand fabulous pricespaid for it; in a year or two he should return by sea to Hollandwith good store of moneyand set up with his beloved Margaret inBrugesor Antwerpor dear Augsburgand end their days in peaceand loveand healthyhappy labour. His heart never strayed aninstant from her.

Inhis prosperity he did not forget poor Pietro. He took the Fra Colonnato see his picture. The friar inspected it severely and closelyfellon the artist's neckand carried the picture to one of the Colonnaswho gave a noble price for it.

Pietrodescended to the first floor; and lived like a gentleman.a

ButGerard remained in his garret. To increase his expenses would havebeen to postpone his return to Margaret. Luxury had no charms for thesingle-hearted onewhen opposed to love.

JacquesBonaventura made him acquainted with other gay young fellows. Theyloved himand sought to entice him into viceand other expenses.But he begged humbly to be excused. So he escaped that temptation.But a greater was behind.

 

CHAPTERLX

FRACOLONNA had the run of the Pope's libraryand sometimes left offwork at the same hour and walked the city with Gerardon whichoccasions the happy artist saw all things en beauand was wrapped upin the grandeur of Rome and its churchespalacesand ruins.

Thefriar granted the ruinsbut threw cold water on the rest.

"Thisplace Rome? It is but the tomb of mighty Rome." He showed Gerardthat twenty or thirty feet of the old triumphal arches wereundergroundand that the modern streets ran over ancient palacesand over the tops of columns; and coupling this with thecomparatively narrow limits of the modern cityand the giganticvestiges of antiquity that peeped aboveground here and thereheuttered a somewhat remarkable simile. "I tell thee this villagethey call Rome is but as one of those swallows' nests ye shall seebuilt on the eaves of a decayed abbey."

"OldRome must indeed have been fair then" said Gerard.

"Judgefor yourselfmy son; you see the great sewerthe work of the Romansin their very childhoodand shall outlast Vesuvius. You see thefragments of the Temple of Peace. How would you look could you seealso the Capitol with its five-and-twenty temples? Do but note thisMonte Savello; what is itan it pleases youbut the ruins of theancient theatre of Marcellus? and as for Testacioone of the highesthills in modern Romeit is but an ancient dust heap; the women ofold Rome flung their broken pots and pans thereand lo - amountain.
'Ex pede Herculem; ex ungue leonem.'"

Gerardlistened respectfullybut when the holy friar proceeded by analogyto imply that the moral superiority of the heathen Romans wasproportionally grandhe resisted stoutly. "Has then the worldlost by Christ His coming?" said he; but blushedfor he felthimself reproaching his benefactor.

"Saintsforbid!" said the friar. "'Twere heresy to say so."And having made this direct concessionhe proceeded gradually toevade it by subtle circumlocutionand reached the forbidden door bythe spiral back staircase. In the midst of all which they came to achurch with a knot of persons in the porch. A demon was beingexorcised within. Now Fra Colonna had a way of uttering a curioussort of little moanwhen things Zeno or Epicurus would not haveswallowed were presented to him as facts. This moan conveyed to suchas had often heard it not only strong dissentbut pity for humancredulityignoranceand errorespecially of course when it blindedmen to the merits of Pagandom.

Thefriar moanedand said"Then come away.

"Nayfatherprithee! prithee! I ne'er saw a divell cast out."

Thefriar accompanied Gerard into the churchbut had a good shrug first.There they found the demoniac forced down on his knees before thealtar with a scarf tied round his neckby which the officiatingpriest held him like a dog in a chain.

Notmany persons were presentfor fame had put forth that the last demoncast out in that church went no farther than into one of the company:"as a cony ferreted out of one burrow runs to the next."

WhenGerard and the friar came upthe priest seemed to think there werenow spectators enough; and began.

Hefaced the demoniacbreviary in handand first set himself to learnthe individual's name with whom he had to deal.

"ComeoutAshtaroth. Oho! it is not you then. Come outBelial. Come outTatzi. Come outEza. No; he trembles not. Come outAzymoth. ComeoutFeriander. Come outFoletho. Come outAstyma. Come outNebul.Aha! whathave I found ye? 'tis thouthou reptile; at thine oldtricks. Let us pray!

"OhLordwe pray thee to drive the foul fiend Nebul out of this thycreature: out of his hairand his eyesout of his noseout of hismouthout of his earsout of his gumsout of his teethout of hisshouldersout of his armslegsloinsstomachbowelsthighskneescalvesfeetanklesfinger-nailstoe-nailsand soul. Amen.

Thepriest then rose from his kneesand turning to the companysaidwith quiet geniality"Gentleswe have here as obstinate adivell as you may see in a summer day." Thenfacing thepatienthe spoke to him with great rigoursometimes addressing 'theman and sometimes the fiendand they answered him in turn throughthe same mouthnow saying that they hated those holy names thepriest kept utteringand now complaining they did feel so bad intheir inside.

Itwas the priest who first confounded the victim and the culprit inideaby pitching into the formercuffing him soundlykicking himand spitting repeatedly in his face. Then he took a candle andlighted itand turned it downand burned it till it burned hisfingers; when he dropped it double quick. Then took the custodial;and showed the patient the Corpus Domini within. Then burned anothercandle as beforebut more cautiously: then spoke civilly to thedemoniac in his human characterdismissed himand received thecompliments of the company.

"Goodfather" said Gerard"how you have their names by heart.Our northern priests have no such exquisite knowledge of the hellishsquadrons."

"Ayyoung manhere we know all their namesand eke their waysthereptiles. This Nebul is a bitter hard one to hunt out."

Hethen told the company in the most affable way several of hisexperiences; concluding with his feat of yesterdaywhen he drove agreat hulking fiend out of a woman by her mouthleaving behind himcertain nailsand pinsand a tuft of his own hairand cried out ina voice of anguish"'Tis not thou that conquers me. See thatstone on the window sill. Know that the angel Gabriel coming down toearth once lighted on that stone: 'tis that has done my business."

Thefriar moaned. "And you believed him?"

"Certes!who but an infidel has discredited a revelation so precise."

"Whatbelieve the father of lies? That is pushing credulity beyond theage."

"Oha liar does not always lie."

"Aydoth he whenever he tells an improbable story to beginand shows youa holy relic; arms you against the Satanic host. Fiends (if any) benot so simple. Shouldst have answered him out of antiquity -
'TimeoDanaos et dona ferentes.' Some blackguard chopped his wife's head offon that stoneyoung man; you take my word for it." And thefriar hurried Gerard away.

"AlackfatherI fear you abashed the good priest."

"Ayby Pollux" said the friarwith a chuckle; "I blisteredhim with a single touch of 'Socratic interrogation.' What modern canparry the weapons of antiquity."

Oneafternoonwhen Gerard had finished his day's worka fine lackeycame and demanded his attendance at the Palace Cesarini. He wentandwas ushered into a noble apartment; there was a girl seated in itworking on a tapestry. She rose and left the roomand said she wouldlet her mistress know.

Agood hour did Gerard cool his heels in that great roomand at lasthe began to fret. "These nobles think nothing of a poor fellow'stime." Howeverjust as he was making up his mind to slip outand go about his businessthe door openedand a superb beautyentered the roomfollowed by two maids. It was the young princess ofthe house of Cesarini. She came in talking rather loudly andhaughtily to her dependentsbut at sight of Gerard lowered her voiceto a very feminine toneand said"Are you the writermesser?"

"IamSignora.

"'Tiswell."

Shethen seated herself; Gerard and her maids remained standing.

"Whatis your namegood youth?"

"Gerardsignora."

"Gerard?body of Bacchus! is that the name of a human creature?"

"Itis a Dutch namesignora. I was born at Tergouin Holland."

"Aharsh namegirlsfor so well-favoured a youth; what say you?"

Themaids assented warmly.

"Whatdid I send for him for?" inquired the ladywith lofty languor."AhI remember. Be seatedSer Gerardoand write me a letterto Ercole Orsinimy lover; at least he says so."

Gerardseated himselftook out paper and inkand looked up to the princessfor instructions.

Sheseated on a much higher chairalmost a thronelooked down at himwith eyes equally inquiring.

"WellGerardo."

"Iam readyyour excellence."

"Writethen."

"Ibut await the words."

"Andwhothink youis to provide them?"

"Whobut your gracewhose letter it is to be?"

"Gramercy!whatyou writersfind you not the words? What avails your artwithout the words? I doubt you are an impostorGerardo."

"NaySignoraI am none. I might make shift to put your highness's speechinto grammaras well as writing. But I cannot interpret yoursilence. Therefore speak what is in your heartand I will empaper itbefore your eyes."

"Butthere is nothing in my heart. And sometimes I think I have got noheart."

"Whatis in your mindthen?"

"Butthere is nothing in my mind; nor my head neither."

"Thenwhy write at all?"

"Whyindeed? That is the first word of sense either you or I have spokenGerardo. Pestilence seize him! why writeth he not first? then I couldsay nay to thisand ay to thatwithouten headache. Also is it alady's part to say the first word?"

"Nosignora: the last."

"Itis well spokenGerardo. Ha! ha! Shalt have a gold piece for thy wit.Give me my purse!" And she paid him for the article on the naila la moyen age. Money never yet chilled zeal. Gerardafter getting agold piece so cheapfelt bound to pull her out of her difficultyifthe wit of man might achieve it. "Signorina" said he"these things are only hard because folk attempt too muchareartificial and labour phrases. Do but figure to yourself the signoryou love-

"Ilove him not."

"Wellthenthe signor you love not-seated at this tableand dict to mejust what you would say to him."

"Wellif he sat thereI should say'Go away.'"

Gerardwho was flourishing his pen by way of preparationlaid it down witha groan.

"Andwhen he was gone" said Floretta"your highness would say'Come back.'"

"Likeenoughwench. Now silencealland let me think. He pestered me towriteand I promised; so mine honour is engaged. What lie shall Itell the Gerardo to tell the fool?" and she turned her head awayfrom them and fell into deep thoughtwith her noble chin resting onher white handhalf clenched.

Shewas so lovely and statuesqueand looked so inspired with thoughtscelestialas she sat thusimpregnating herself with mendacitythatGerard forgot allexcept artand proceeded eagerly to transfer thatexquisite profile to paper.

Hehad very nearly finished when the fair statue turned brusquely roundand looked at him.

"NaySignora" said hea little peevishly; "for Heaven's sakechange not your posture - 'twas perfect. Seeyou are nearlyfinished."

Alleyes were instantly on the workand all tongues active.

"Howlike! and done in a minute: naymethinks her highness's chin is notquite so"

"Oha touch will make that right."

"Whata pity 'tis not coloured. I'm all for colours. Hang black and white!And her highness hath such a lovely skin. Take away her skinandhalf her beauty is lost."

"Peace.Can you colourSer Gerardo?"

"Aysignorina. I am a poor hand at oils; there shines my friend Pietro;but in this small way I can tint you to the lifeif you have time towaste on such vanity."

"Callyou this vanity? And for timeit hangs on me like lead. Send foryour colours now - quickthis moment - for love of all the saints."

"NaysignorinaI must prepare them. I could come at the same time."

"Sobe it. And youFlorettasee that he be admitted at all hours.Alack! Leave my head! leave my head!"

"ForgivemeSignora; I thought to prepare it at home to receive the colours.But I will leave it. And now let us despatch the letter."

"Whatletter?"

"Tothe Signor Orsini."

"Andshall I waste my time on such vanity as writing letters - and to thatempty creatureto whom I am as indifferent as the moon? Naynotindifferentfor I have just discovered my real sentiments. I hatehim and despise him. GirlsI here forbid you once for all to mentionthat signor's name to me again; else I'll whip you till the bloodcomes. You know how I can lay on when I'm roused."

"Wedo. We do."

"Thenprovoke me not to it;" and her eye flashed daggersand sheturned to Gerard all instantaneous honey. "Addioil Gerardo."And

Gerardbowed himself out of this velvet tiger's den.

Hecame next day and coloured her; and next he was set to make aportrait of her on a large scale; and then a full-length figure; andhe was obliged to set apart two hours in the afternoonfor drawingand painting this princesswhose beauty and vanity were prodigiousand candidates for a portrait of her numerous. Here the thrivingGerard found a new and fruitful source of income.

Margaretseemed nearer and nearer.

Itwas Holy Thursday. No work this day. Fra Colonna and Gerard sat in awindow and saw the religious processions. Their number and piousardour thrilled Gerard with the devotion that now seemed to animatethe whole peoplelately bent on earthly joys.

Presentlythe Pope came pacing majestically at the head of his cardinalsin ared hatwhite cloaka capuchin of red velvetand riding a lovelywhite Neapolitan barbcaparisoned with red velvet fringed andtasselled with gold; a hundred horsemenarmed cap-a-pierode behindhim with their lances erectedthe butt-end resting on the man'sthigh. The cardinals went uncoveredall but onede Mediciswhorode close to the Pope and conversed with him as with an equal. Atevery fifteen steps the Pope stopped a single momentand gave thepeople his blessingthen on again.

Gerardand the friar now came downand threading some by-streets reachedthe portico of one of the seven churches. It was hung with blackandsoon the Pope and cardinalswho had entered the church by anotherdoorissued forthand stood with torches on the stepsseparated bybarriers from the people; then a canon read a Latin Bullexcommunicating several persons by nameespecially such princes aswere keeping the Church out of any of her temporal possessions.

Atthis awful ceremony Gerard trembledand so did the people. But twoof the cardinals spoiled the effect by laughing unreservedly thewhole time.

Whenthis was endedthe black cloth was removedand revealed a gaypanoply; and the Pope blessed the peopleand ended by throwing historch among them: so did two cardinals. Instantly there was ascramble for the torches: they were fought forand torn in pieces bythe candidatesso devoutly that small fragments were gained at theprice of black eyesbloody nosesand burnt fingers; In whichhurtling his holiness and suite withdrew in peace.

Andnow there was a cryand the crowd rushed to a square where was alargeopen stage: several priests were upon it praying. They roseand with great ceremony donned red gloves. Then one of their numberkneeledand with signs of the lowest reverence drew forth from ashrine a square framelike that of a mirrorand inside was as itwere the impression of a face.

Itwas the Verum iconor true impression of our Saviour's facetakenat the very moment of His most mortal agony for us. Received as itwas without a grain of doubtimagine how it moved every Christianheart.

Thepeople threw themselves on their faces when the priest raised it onhigh; and cries of pity were in every mouthand tears in almostevery eye. After a while the people roseand then the priest wentround the platformshowing it for a single moment to the nearest;and at each sight loud cries of pity and devotion burst forth.

Soonafter this the friends fell in with a procession of Flagellantsflogging their bare shoulders till the blood ran streaming down; butwithout a sign of pain in their facesand many of them laughing andjesting as they lashed. The bystanders out of pity offered them wine;they took itbut few drank it; they generally used it to free thetails of the catwhich were hard with clotted bloodand make thenext stroke more effective. Most of them were boysand a young womantook pity on one fair urchin. "Alas! dear child" said she"why wound thy white skin so?" "Basta" said helaughing"'tis for your sins I do itnot for mine."

"Hearyou that?" said the friar. "Show me the whip that can whipthe vanity out of man's heart! The young monkey; how knoweth he thatstranger is a sinner more than he?"

"Father"said Gerard"surely this is not to our Lord's mind. He was sopitiful."

"OurLord?" said the friarcrossing himself. "What has He to dowith this? This was a custom in Rome six hundred years before He wasborn. The boys used to go through the streetsat the Lupercaliaflogging themselves. And the married women used to shove inand tryand get a blow from the monkeys' scourges; for these blows conferredfruitfulness in those days. A foolish trick this flagellation; butinteresting to the bystander; reminds him of the grand old heathen.We are so prone to forget all we owe them."

Nextthey got into one of the seven churchesand saw the Pope give themass. The ceremony was imposingbut again - spoiled by theinconsistent conduct of the cardinals and other prelateswho satabout the altar with their hats onchattering all through the masslike a flock of geese.

Theeucharist in both kinds was tasted by an official before the Popewould venture on it; and this surprised Gerard beyond measure. "Whois that base man? and what doth he there?"

"Ohthat is 'the Preguste' and he tastes the eucharist by way ofprecaution. This is the country for poison; and none fall oftener byit than the poor Popes."

"Alas!so I have heard; but after the miraculous change of the bread andwine to Christ His body and bloodpoison cannot remain; gone is thebread with all its properties and accidents; gone is the wine."

"Sosays Faith; but experience tells another tale. Scores have died inItaly poisoned in the host."

"AndI tell youfatherthat were both bread and wine charged with direstpoison before his holiness had consecrated themyet afterconsecration I would take them both withouten fear."

"Sowould Ibut for the fine arts."

"Whatmean you?"

"Marrythat I would be as ready to leave the world as thouwere it not forthose artswhich beautify existence here belowand make it dear tomen of sense and education. No; so long as the Nine Muses strew mypath with roses of learning and artme may Apollo inspire withwisdom and cautionthat knowing the wiles of my countrymenI mayeat poison neither at God's altar nor at a friend's tablesincewherever I eat it or drink itit will assuredly cut short my mortalthread; and I am writing a book - heart and soul in it - 'The Dreamof Polifilo' the man of many arts. So name not poison to me tillthat is finished and copied."

Andnow the great bells of St. John Lateran's were rung with a clash atshort intervalsand the people hurried thither to see the heads ofSt. Peter and St. Paul.

Gerardand the friar got a good place in the churchand there was a greatcurtainand after long and breathless expectation of the peoplethis curtain was drawn by jerksand at a height of about thirty feetwere two human heads with bearded facesthat seemed alive. They wereshown no longer than the time to say an Ave Mariaand then thecurtain drawn. But they were shown in this fashion three times. St.Peter's complexion was palehis face ovalhis beard grey andforked; his head crowned with a papal mitre. St. Paul was darkskinnedwith a thicksquare beard; his face also and head were moresquare and massiveand full of resolution.

Gerardwas awe-struck. The friar approved after his fashion.

"Thisexhibition of the 'imagines' or waxen effigies of heroes anddemigodsis a venerable customand inciteth the vulgar to virtue bygreat and invisible examples.

"Waxenimages~? Whatare they not the apostles themselvesembalmedor thelike?"

Thefriar moaned.

"Theydid not exist in the year 800. The great old Roman families alwaysproduced at their funerals a series of these 'imagines' therebytying past and present history togetherand showing the populace thefeatures of far-famed worthies. I can conceive nothing more thrillingor instructive. But then the effigies were portraits made during lifeor at the hour of death. These of St. Paul and St. Peter are mouldedout of pure fancy."

"Ah!say not sofather."

"Butthe worst isthis humour of showing them up on a shelfand half inthe darkand by snatchesand with the poor mountebank trick of adrawn curtain.
'Quodcunque ostendis mihi sic incredulus odi.'Enough; the men of this day are not the men of old. Let us have donewith these new-fangled mummeriesand go among the Pope's books;there we shall find the wisdom we shall vainly hunt in the streets ofmodern Rome."

Andthis idea having once taken rootthe good friar plunged and torethrough the crowdand looked neither to the right hand nor to thelefttill he had escaped the glories of the holy weekwhich hadbrought fifty thousand strangers to Rome; and had got nice and quietamong the dead in the library of the Vatican.

Presentlygoing into Gerard's roomhe found a hot dispute afoot between himand Jacques Bonaventura. That spark had come inall steel from headto toe; doffed helmetpuffedand railed most scornfully on aridiculous ceremonyat which he and his soldiers had been compelledto attend the Pope; to wit the blessing of the beasts of burden.

Gerardsaid it was not ridiculous; nothing a Pope did could be ridiculous.

Theargument grew warmand the friar stood grimly neuterwaiting likethe stork that ate the frog and the mouse at the close of theircombatto grind them both between the jaws of antiquity; when lothe curtain was gently drawnand there stood a venerable old man ina purple skull capwith a beard like white floss silklooking atthem with a kind though feeble smile.

"Happyyouth" said he"that can heat itself over such matters.

Theyall fell on their knees. It was the Pope.

"Nayrisemy children" said healmost peevishly. "I came notinto this corner to be in state. How goes Plutarch?"

Gerardbrought his workand kneeling on one knee presented it to hisholinesswho had seated himselfthe others standing.

Hisholiness inspected it with interest.

"'Tisexcellently writ" said he.

Gerard'sheart beat with delight.

"Ah!this Plutarchhe had a wondrous artFrancesco. How each characterstandeth out alive on his page: how full of nature eachyet howunlike his fellow!"

JacquesBonaventura. "Give me the Signor Boccaccio."

HisHoliness. "An excellent narratorcapitanoand writethexquisite Italian. But in spirit a thought too monotonous. Monks andnuns were never all unchaste: one or two such stories were rightpleasant and diverting; but five score paint his time falselyandsadden the heart of such as love mankind. Moreoverhe hath no skillat characters. Now this Greek is supreme in that great art: hecarveth them with pen; and turning his pagesee into how real andgreat a world we enter of warand policyand businessand love inits own place: for with himas in the great worldmen are not allrunning after a wench. With this great open field compare me not thenarrow garden of Boccaccioand his little mill-round of dishonestpleasures."

"Yourholinessthey sayhath not disdained to write a novel."

"Myholiness hath done more foolish things than onewhereof it repentstoo late. When I wrote novels I little thought to be head of theChurch."

"Isearch in vain for a copy of it to add to my poor library."

"Itis well. Then the strict orders I gave four years ago to destroyevery copy in Italy have been well discharged. Howeverfor yourcomforton my being made Popesome fool turned it into French: sothat you may read itat the price of exile."

"Reducedto this strait we throw ourselves on your holiness's generosity.Vouchsafe to give us your infallible judgment on it!"

"Gentlygentlygood Francesco. A Pope's novels are not matters of faith. Ican but give you my sincere impression. Well then the work inquestion hadas far as I can rememberall the vices of Boccacciowithout his choice Italian."

FraColonna. "Your holiness is known for slighting Aeneas Silvius asother men never slighted him. I did him injustice to make you hisjudge. Perhaps your holiness will decide more justly between thesetwo boys-about blessing the beasts."

ThePope demurred. In speaking of Plutarch he had brightened up for amomentand his eye had even flashed; but his general manner was asunlike what youthful females expect in a Pope as you can conceive. Ican only describe it in French. Le gentilhomme blase. A highbredandhighly cultivated gentlemanwho had doneand saidand seenandknown everythingand whose body was nearly worn out. But doublelanguor seemed to seize him at the father's proposal.

"Mypoor Francesco" said he"bethink thee that I have had alife of controversyand am sick on't; sick as death. Plutarch drewme to this calm retreat; not divinity."

"Naybutyour holinessfor moderating of strife between two hot youngbloods"Makarioi oieirinopioi."

"Andknow you nature so illas to think either of these high-mettledyouths will reck what a poor old Pope saith?"

"oh!your holiness" broke in Gerardblushing and gasping"surehere is one who will treasure your words all his life as words fromHeaven."

"Inthat case" said the Pope"I am fairly caught. AsFrancesco here would say -
I came to taste that eloquent heathendear to me e'en as to theethou paynim monk; and I must talkdivinityor something next door to it. But the youth hath a good anda winning faceand writeth Greek like an angel. Well thenmychildrento comprehend the ways of the Churchwe should still risea little above the earthsince the Church is between heaven andearthand interprets betwixt them.

"Thequestion is thennot how vulgar men feelbut how the common Creatorof man and beast doth feeltowards the lower animals. Thisif weare too proud to search for it in the lessons of the Churchthe nextbest thing is to go to the most ancient history of men and animals."

Colonna."Herodotus."

"Naynay; in this matter Herodotus is but a mushroom. Finely were we spedfor ancient historyif we depended on your Greekswho did but writeon the last leaf of that great bookAntiquity."

Thefriar groaned. Here was a Pope uttering heresy against his demigods.

"'Tisthe Vulgate I speak of. A history that handles matters three thousandyears before him pedants call 'the Father of History.'"

Colonna."Oh! the Vulgate? I cry your holiness mercy. How you frightenedme. I quite forgot the Vulgate."

"Forgotit? art sure thou ever readst itFrancesco mio?"

"Notquiteyour holiness. 'Tis a pleasure I have long promised myselfthe first vacant moment. Hitherto these grand old heathen have leftme small time for recreation."

HisHoliness. "First then you will find in Genesis that Godhavingcreated the animalsdrew a holy pleasureundefinable by usfromcontemplating of their beauty. Was it wonderful? See their myriadforms; their lovely hair and eyestheir graceand of some the powerand majesty: the colour of othersbrighter than rosesor rubies.And whenfor man's sinnot their ownthey were destroyedyet weretwo of each kind spared.

"Andwhen the ark and its trembling inmates tumbled solitary on the worldof waterthensaith the word'God remembered Noahand the cattlethat were with him in the ark.'

"ThereafterGod did write His rainbow in the sky as a bond that earth should beflooded no more; and between whom the bond? between God and man? naybetween God and manand every living creature of all flesh: or mymemory fails me with age. In Exodus God commanded that the cattleshould share the sweet blessing of the one day's rest. Moreover He'forbade to muzzle the ox that trod out the corn. 'Naylet the pooroverwrought soul snatch a mouthful as he goes his toilsome round: thebulk of the grain shall still be for man.' Ye will object perchancethat St. Paulcommenting thissaith rudely'Doth God care foroxen?' Verilyhad I been Peterinstead of the humblest of hissuccessorsI had answered him. 'Drop thy theatrical poetsPaulandread the Scriptures: then shalt thou know whether God careth only formen and sparrowsor for all his creatures. OPaul' had I made boldto say'think not to learn God by looking into Paul's heartnor anyheart of manbut study that which he hath revealed concerninghimself.'

"Thricehe forbade the Jews to boil the kid in his mother's milk; not thatthis is crueltybut want of thought and gentle sentimentsand sopaves the way for downright cruelty. A prophet riding on an ass didmeet an angel. Which of these twoPaulo judicehad seen theheavenly spirit? marrythe prophet. But it was not so. The manhisvision cloyed with sinsaw nought. The poor despised creature sawall. Nor is this recorded as miraculous. Poor proud thingsweoverrate ourselves. The angel had slain the prophet and spared theassbut for that creature's clearer vision of essences divine. Hesaid somethinks. But in sooth I read it many years agone. Why didGod spare repentant Nineveh? Because in that city were sixty thousandchildrenbesides much cattle.

"Profanehistory and vulgar experience add their mite of witness. The cruel toanimals end in cruelty to man; and strange and violent deathsmarkedwith retribution's bloody fingerhave in all ages fallen from heavenon such as wantonly harm innocent beasts. This I myself have seen.All this duly weighedand seeing thatdespite this Francesco'sfriendsthe Stoicswho in their vanity say the creatures allsubsist for man's comfortthere be snakes and scorpions which kill'Dominum terra' with a nipmusquitoes which eat him piecemealandtigers and sharks which crack him like an almondwe do well to begrateful to these truefaithfulpatientfour-footed friendswhichin lieu of powdering usput forth their strength to relieveour toilsand do feed us like mothers from their gentle dugs.

"Methinksthen the Church is never more divine than in this benediction of ourfour-footed friendswhich has revolted you great theologicalauthoritythe captain of the Pope's guards; since here sheinculcates humility and gratitudeand rises towards the level of themind divineand interprets God to manGod the Creatorparentandfriend of man and beast.

"Butall thisyoung gentlesyou will please to receivenot as deliveredby the Pope ex cathedrabut uttered carelesslyin a free hourbyan aged clergyman. On that score you will perhaps do well toentertain it with some little consideration. For old age must surelybring a man somewhatin return for his digestion (his 'dura puerorumilia' ehFrancesco!)which it carries away.

Suchwas the purport of the Pope's discourse but the manner high bredlanguidkindlyand free from all tone of dictation. He seemed to begently probing the matter in concert with his hearersnot playingSir Oracle. At the bottom of all which was doubtless a slight touchof humbugbut the humbug that embellishes life; and all sense of itwas lost in the subtle Italian grace of the thing.

"Iseem to hear the oracle of Delphi" said Fra Colonnaenthusiastically.

"Icall that good sense" shouted Jacques Bonaventura.

"Ohcaptaingood sense!" said Gerardwith a deep and tenderreproach.

ThePope smiled on Gerard. "Cavil not at words; that was an unheardof concession from a rival theologian." He then asked for allGerard's workand took it away in his hand. But before goinghegently pulled Fra Colonna's earand asked him whether he rememberedwhen they were school-fellows together and robbed the Virgin by theroadside of the money dropped into her box. You took a flat stick andapplied bird-lime to the topand drew the money out through thechinkyou rogue" said his holiness severely.

"Toevery signor his own honour" replied Fra Colonna. "It wasyour holiness's good wit invented the manoeuvre. I was but the humbleinstrument."

"Itis well. Doubtless you know 'twas sacrilege."

"Ofthe first water; but I did it in such good companyit troubles menot."

"Humph!I have not even that poor consolation. What did we spend it indostmind?"

"Canyour holiness ask? whysugar-plums."

"Whatall on't?"

"Everydoit."

"Theseare delightful reminiscencesmy Francesco. Alas! I am getting old. Ishall not be here long. And I am sorry for itfor thy sake. Theywill go and burn thee when I am gone. Art far more a heretic thanHusswhom I saw burned with these eyes; and ohhe died like amartyr."

"Ayyour holiness; but I believe in the Pope; and Huss did not."

"Fox!They will not burn thee; wood is too dear. Adieuold playmate;adieuyoung gentlemen; an old man's blessing be on you."

Thatafternoon the Pope's secretary brought Gerard a little bag: in itwere several gold pieces.

Headded them to his store.

Margaretseemed nearer and nearer.

Forsome time pasttooit appeared as if the fairies had watched overhim. Baskets of choice provisions and fruits were brought to his doorby porterswho knew not who had employed themor affectedignorance; and one day came a jewel in a letterbut no words.

 

CHAPTERLXI

ThePrincess Claelia ordered a full-length portrait of herself. Gerardadvised her to employ his friend Pietro Vanucci.

Butshe declined. "'Twill be time to put a slight on the Gerardowhen his work discontents me." Then Gerardwho knew he was anexcellent draughtsmanbut not so good a colouristbegged her tostand to him as a Roman statue. He showed her how closely he couldmimic marble on paper. She consented at first; but demurred when thisenthusiast explained to her that she must wear the tunictogaandsandals of the ancients.

"WhyI had as lieve be presented in my smock" said shewithmediaeval frankness.

"Alack!signorina" said Gerard"you have surely never noted theancient habit; so freeso ampleso simpleyet so noble; and mostbecoming your highnessto whom Heaven hath given the Roman featuresand eke a shapely arm and handhis in modern guise."

"Whatcan you flatterlike the restGerardo? Wellgive me time to thinkon't. Come o' Saturdayand then I will say ay or nay."

Therespite thus gained was passed in making the tunic and togaetc.and trying them on in her chamberto see whether they suited herstyle of beauty well enough to compensate their being a thousandyears out of date.

Gerardhurrying along to this interviewwas suddenly arrestedand rootedto earth at a shop window.

Hisquick eye had discerned in that window a copy of Lactantius lyingopen. "That is fairly writanyway" thought he.

Heeyed it a moment more with all his eyes.

Itwas not written at all. It was printed.

Gerardgroaned.

"Iam sped; mine enemy is at the door. The press is in Rome."

Hewent into the shopand affecting nonchalanceinquired how long theprinting-press had been in Rome. The man said he believed there wasno such thing in the city. "Ohthe Lactantius; that was printedon the top of the Apennines."

"Whatdid the printing-press fall down there out o' the moon?"

"Naymesser" said the traderlaughing; "it shot up there outof Germany. See the title-page!"

Gerardtook the Lactantius eagerlyand saw the following -
Opera etimpensis Sweynheim et Pannartz
Alumnorum Joannis Fust.
ImpressumSubiacis. A.D. 1465.

"Willye buymesser? See how fair and even be the letters. Few are leftcan write like that; and scarce a quarter of the price."

"Iwould fain have it" said Gerard sadly"but my heart willnot let me. Know that I am a caligraphand these disciples of Fustrun after me round the world a-taking the bread out of my mouth. ButI wish them no ill. Heaven forbid!" And he hurried from theshop.

"DearMargaret" said he to himself"we must lose no time; wemust make our hay while shines the sun. One month more and anavalanche of printer's type shall roll down on Rome from thoseApenninesand lay us waste that writers be."

Andhe almost ran to the Princess Claelia.

Hewas ushered into an apartment new to him. It was not very largebutmost luxurious; a fountain played in the centreand the floor wascovered with the skins of panthersdressed with the hairso that nofootfall could be heard. The room was an ante-chamber to theprincess's boudoirfor on one side there was no doorbut an amplecurtain of gorgeous tapestry.

HereGerard was left alone till he became quite uneasyand doubtedwhether the maid had not shown him to the wrong place.

Thesedoubts were agreeably dissipated.

Alight step came swiftly behind the curtain; it parted in the middleand there stood a figure the heathens might have worshipped. It wasnot quite Venusnor quite Minerva; but between the two; nobler thanVenusmore womanly than Jupiter's daughter. Togatunicsandals;nothing was modern. And as for beautythat is of all times.

Gerardstarted upand all the artist in him flushed with pleasure.

"Oh!"he cried innocentlyand gazed in rapture.

Thisadded the last charm to his model: a light blush tinted her cheeksand her eyes brightenedand her mouth smiled with deliciouscomplacency at this genuine tribute to her charms.

Whenthey had looked at one another so some timeand she saw Gerard'seloquence was confined to ejaculating and gazingshe spoke. "WellGerardothou seest I have made myself an antique monster for thee."

"Amonster? I doubt Fra Colonna would fall down and adore your highnessseeing you so habited."

"NayI care not to be adored by an old man. I would liever be loved by ayoung one: of my own choosing."

Gerardtook out his pencilsarranged his canvaswhich he had covered withstout paperand set to work; and so absorbed was he that he had nomercy on his model. At lastafter near an hour in one posture"Gerardo" said she faintly"I can stand so no moreeven for thee."

"Sitdown and rest awhileSignora."

"Ithank thee" said she; and sinking into a chair turned pale andsighed.

Gerardwas alarmedand saw also he had been inconsiderate. He took waterfrom the fountain and was about to throw it in her face; but she putup a white hand deprecatingly: "Nayhold it to my brow withthine hand: pritheedo not fling it at me!"

Gerardtimidly and hesitating applied his wet hand to her brow.

"Ah!"she sighed"that is reviving. Again."

Heapplied it again. She thanked himand asked him to ring a littlehand-bell on the table. He did soand a maid cameand was sent toFloretta with orders to bring a large fan.

Florettaspeedily came with the fan.

Sheno sooner came near the princessthan that lady's highbred nostrilssuddenly expanded like a bloodhorse's. "Wretch!" said she;and rising up with a sudden return to vigourseized Floretta withher left handtwisted it in her hairand with the right hand boxedher ears severely three times.

Florettascreamed and blubbered; but obtained no mercy.

Theantique toga left quite disengaged a bare armthat now seemed aspowerful as it was beautiful: it rose and fell like the piston of amodern steam-engineand heavy slaps resounded one after another onFloretta's shoulders; the last one drove her sobbing and screamingthrough the curtainand there she was heard crying bitterly for sometime after.

"Saintsof heaven!" cried Gerard"what is amiss? what has shedone?"

"Sheknows right well. 'Tis not the first time. The nasty toad! I'll learnher to come to me stinking of the musk-cat."

"Alas!Signora'twas a small faultmethinks."

"Asmall fault? Nay'twas a foul fault." She added with an amazingsudden descent to humility and sweetness"Are you wroth with mefor beating herGerar-do?"

"Signorait ill becomes me to school you; but methinks such as Heaven appointsto govern others should govern themselves."

"Thatis trueGerardo. How wise you areto be so young." She thencalled the other maidand gave her a little purse. "Take thatto Florettaand tell her 'the Gerardo' hath interceded for her; andso I must needs forgive her. ThereGerardo."

Gerardcoloured all over at the compliment; but not knowing how to turn aphrase equal to the occasionasked her if he should resume herpicture.

"Notyet; beating that hussy hath somewhat breathed me. I'll sit awhileand you shall talk to me. I know you can talkan it pleases youasrarely as you draw."

"Thatwere easily done.

"Doit thenGerardo."

Gerardwas taken aback.

"ButsignoraI know not what to say. This is sudden."

"Sayyour real mind. Say you wish you were anywhere but here."

"Naysignorathat would not be sooth. I wish one thing though."

"Ayand what is that?" said she gently.

"Iwish I could have drawn you as you were beating that poor lass. Youwere awfulyet lovely. Ohwhat a subject for a Pythoness!"

"Alas!he thinks but of his art. And why keep such a coil about my beautyGerardo? You are far fairer than I am. You are more like Apollo thanI to Venus. Alsoyou have lovely hair and lovely eyes - but you knownot what to do with them."

"Aydo I. To draw yousignora."

"Ahyes; you can see my features with them; but you cannot see what anyRoman gallant had seen long ago in your place. Yet sure you must havenoted how welcome you are to meGerardo?"

"Ican see your highness is always passing kind to me; a poor strangerlike me."

"NoI am notGerardo. I have often been cold to you; rude sometimes; andyou are so simple you see not the cause. Alas! I feared for my ownheart. I feared to be your slave. I who have hitherto made slaves.Ah! GerardoI am unhappy. Ever since you came here I have lived uponyour visits. The day you are to come I am bright. The other days I amlistlessand wish them fled. You are not like the Roman gallants.You make me hate them. You are ten times braver to my eye; and youare wise and scholarlyand never flatter and lie. I scorn a man thatlies. Gerar-doteach me thy magic; teach me to make thee as happy bymy side as I am still by thine."

Asshe poured out these strange wordsthe princess's mellow voice sunkalmost to a whisperand trembled with half-suppressed passionandher white hand stole timidly yet earnestly down Gerard's armtill itrested like a soft bird upon his wristand as ready to fly away at aword.

Destituteof vanity and experiencewrapped up in his Margaret and his artGerard had not seen this revelation comingthough it had come byregular and visible gradations.

Heblushed all over. His innocent admiration of the regal beauty thatbesieged himdid not for a moment displace the absent Margaret'simage. Yet it was regal beautyand wooing with a grace andtenderness he had never even figured in imagination. How to check herwithout wounding her?

Heblushed and trembled.

Thesiren sawand encouraged him.

"PoorGerardo" she murmured"fear not; none shall ever harmthee under my wing. Wilt not speak to meGerar-do mio?"

"Signora!"muttered Gerard deprecatingly.

Atthis moment his eyelowered in his confusionfell on the shapelywhite arm and delicate hand that curled round his elbow like a tendervineand it flashed across him how he had just seen that lovely limbemployed on Floretta.

Hetrembled and blushed.

"Alas!"said the princess"I scare him. Am I then so very terrible? Isit my Roman robe? I'll doff itand habit me as when thou firstcamest to me. Mindest thou? 'Twas to write a letter to yon barrenknight Ercole d'Orsini. Shall I tell thee? 'twas the sight of theeand thy pretty waysand thy wise wordsmade me hate him on theinstant. I liked the fool well enough before; or wist I liked him.Tell me now how many times hast thou been here since then. Ah! thouknowest not; lovest me notI doubtas I love thee. Eighteen timesGerardo. And each time dearer to me. The day thou comest not 'tisnightnot dayto Claelia. Alas! I speak for both. Cruel boyam Inot worth a word? Hast every day a princess at thy feet? Naypritheepritheespeak to meGerar-do."

"Signora"faltered Gerard"what can I saythat were not better leftunsaid? Ohevil day that ever I came here."

"Ah!say not so. 'Twas the brightest day ever shone on me or indeed onthee. I'll make thee confess so much ere longungrateful one."

"Yourhighness" began Gerardin a lowpleading voice.

"Callme ClaeliaGerar-do."

"SignoraI am too young and too little wise to know how I ought to speak toyouso as not to seem blind nor yet ungrateful. But this I knowIwere both naught and ungratefuland the worst foe e'er you haddidI take advantage of this mad fancy. Sure some ill spirit hath hadleave to afflict you withal. For 'tis all unnatural that a princessadorned with every grace should abase her affections on a churl."

Theprincess withdrew her hand slowly from Gerard's wrist.

Yetas it passed lightly over his arm it seemed to linger a moment atparting.

"Youfear the daggers of my kinsmen" said shehalf sadlyhalfcontemptuously.

"Nomore than I fear the bodkins of your women" said Gerardhaughtily. "But I fear God and the saintsand my ownconscience."

"ThetruthGerardothe truth! Hypocrisy sits awkwardly on thee.Princesseswhile they are youngare not despised for love of Godbut of some other woman. Tell me whom thou lovest; and if she isworthy thee I will forgive thee."

"Noshe in Italyupon my soul."

"Ah!there is one somewhere then. Where? where?"

"InHollandmy native country."

"Ah!Marie de Bourgoyne is fairthey say. Yet she is but a child."

"Princessshe I love is not noble. She is as I am. Nor is she so fair as thou.Yet is she fair; and linked to my heart for ever by her virtuesandby all the dangers and griefs we have borne togetherand for oneanother. Forgive me; but I would not wrong my Margaret for all thehighest dames in Italy."

Theslighted beauty started to her feetand stood opposite himasbeautifulbut far more terrible than when she slapped Florettaforthen her cheeks were redbut now they were paleand her eyes fullof concentrated fury.

"Thisto my faceunmannered wretch" she cried. "Was I born tobe insultedas well as scornedby such as thou? Beware! We noblesbrook no rivals. Bethink thee whether is betterthe love of aCesarinior her hate: for after all I have said and done to theeitmust be love or hate between usand to the death. Choose now!"

Helooked up at her with wonder and aweas she stood towering over himin her Roman togaoffering this strange alternative.

Heseemed to have affronted a goddess of antiquity; he a poor punymortal.

Hesighed deeplybut spoke not.

Perhapssomething in his deep and patient sigh touched a tender chord in thatungoverned creature; or perhaps the time had come for one passion toebb and another to flow. The princess sank languidly into a seatandthe tears began to steal rapidly down her cheeks.

"Alas!alas!" said Gerard. "Weep notsweet lady; your tears theydo accuse meand I am like to weep for company. My kind patronbeyourself; you will live to see how much better a friend I was to youthan I seemed."

"Isee it nowGerardo" said the princess. "Friend is theword! the only word can ever pass between us twain. I was mad. Anyother man had ta'en advantage of my folly. You must teach me to beyour friend and nothing more.

Gerardhailed this proposition with joy; and told her out of Cicero howgodlike a thing was friendshipand how much better and rarer andmore lasting than love: to prove to her he was capable of ithe eventold her about Denys and himself.

Shelistened with her eyes half shutwatching his words to fathom hischaracterand learn his weak point.

Atlastshe addressed him calmly thus: "Leave me nowGerardoandcome as usual to-morrow. You will find your lesson well bestowed."

Sheheld out her hand to him: he kissed it; and went away ponderingdeeply this strange interviewand wondering whether he had doneprudently or not.

Thenext day he was received with marked distanceand the princess stoodbefore him literally like a statueand after a very short sittingexcused herself and dismissed him. Gerard felt the chillingdifference; but said to himself"She is wise." So she wasin her way.

Thenext day he found the princess waiting for him surrounded by youngnobles flattering her to the skies. She and they treated him like adog that could do one little trick they could not. The cavaliers inparticular criticised his work with a mass of ignorance and insolencecombined that made his cheeks burn.

Theprincess watched his face demurely with half-closed eyes at eachsting the insects gave him; and when they had fledhad her doorsclosed against every one of them for their pains.

Thenext day Gerard found her alone: cold and silent. After standing tohim so some timeshe said"You treated my company with lessrespect than became you."

"DidISignora?"

"Didyou? you fired up at the comments they did you the honour to make onyour work."

"NayI said nought" observed Gerard.

"Ohhigh looks speak as plain as high words. Your cheeks were red asblood."

"Iwas nettled a moment at seeing so much ignorance and ill-naturetogether."

"Nowit is metheir hostessyou affront."

"ForgivemeSignoraand acquit me of design. It would ill become me toaffront the kindest patron and friend I have in Rome but one."

"Howhumble we are all of a sudden. In soothSer Gerardoyou are acapital feigner. You can insult or truckle at will."

"Truckle?to whom?"

"Tomefor one; to onewhom you affronted for a base-born girl likeyourself; but whose patronage you claim all the same."

Gerardroseand put his hand to his heart. "These are biting wordssignora. Have I really deserved them?"

"Ohwhat are words to an adventurer like you? cold steel is all youfear?"

"Iam no swashbuckleryet I have met steel with steel and methinks Ihad rather face your kinsmen's swords than your cruel tonguelady.Why do you use me so?"

"Gerar-dofor no good reasonbut because I am waywardand shrewishandcurstand because everybody admires me but you."

"Iadmire you tooSignora. Your friends may flatter you more; butbelieve me they have not the eye to see half your charms. Theirbabble yesterday showed me that. None admire you more trulyor wishyou betterthan the poor artistwho might not be your loverbuthoped to be your friend; but noI see that may not be between one sohigh as youand one so low as I."

"Ay!but it shallGerardo" said the princess eagerly. "I willnot be so curst. Tell me now where abides thy Margaret; and I willgive thee a present for her; and on that you and I will be friends."

"Sheis a daughter of a physician called Peterand they bide atSevenbergen; ah meshall I e'er see it again?"

"'Tiswell. Now go." And she dismissed him somewhat abruptly.

PoorGerard. He began to wade in deep waters when he encountered thisItalian princess; callida et calida selis filia. He resolved to go nomore when once he had finished her likeness. Indeed he now regrettedhaving undertaken so long and laborious a task.

Thisresolution was shaken for a moment by his next receptionwhich wasall gentleness and kindness.

Afterstanding to him some time in her togashe said she was fatiguedandwanted his assistance in another way: would he teach her to draw alittle? He sat down beside herand taught her to make easy lines. Hefound her wonderfully apt. He said so.

"Ihad a teacher before theeGerar-do. Ayand one as handsome asthyself." She then went to a drawerand brought out severalheads drawn with a complete ignorance of the artbut with greatpatience and natural talent. They were all heads of Gerardand fullof spirit; and really not unlike. One was his very image. "There"said she. "Now thou seest who was my teacher."

"NotIsignora."

"Whatknow you not who teaches us women to do all things? 'Tis loveGerar-do. Love made me draw because thou drawethGerar-do. Loveprints thine image in my bosom. My fingers touch the penand lovesupplies the want of artand lo thy beloved features lie upon thepaper."

Gerardopened his eyes with astonishment at this return to an interdictedtopic. "OhSignorayou promised me to be friends and nothingmore."

Shelaughed in his face. "How simple you are: who believes a womanpromising nonsenseimpossibilities? Friendshipfoolish boywhoever built that temple on red ashes? Nay Gerardo" she addedgloomily"between thee and me it must be love or hate."

"Whichyou willsignora" said Gerard firmly. "But for me I willneither love nor hate you; but with your permission I will leaveyou." And he rose abruptly.

Sherose toopale as deathand said"Ere thou leavest me soknowthy fate; outside that door are armed men who wait to slay thee at aword from me."

"Butyou will not speak that wordsignora."

"Thatword I will speak. NaymoreI shall noise it abroad it was forproffering brutal love to me thou wert slain; and I will send aspecial messenger to Sevenbergen: a cunning messengerwell taughthis lesson. Thy Margaret shall know thee deadand think theefaithless; nowgo to thy grave; a dog's. For a man thou art not."

Gerardturned paleand stood dumb-stricken. "God have mercy on usboth."

"Nayhave thou mercy on herand on thyself. She will never know inHolland what thou dost in Rome; unless I be driven to tell her mytale. Comeyield theeGerar-do mio: what will it cost thee to saythou lovest me? I ask thee but to feign it handsomely. Thou artyoung: die not for the poor pleasure of denying a lady what-theshadow of a heart. Who will shed a tear for thee? I tell thee menwill laughnot weep over thy tombstone-ah!" She ended in alittle screamfor Gerard threw himself in a moment at her feetandpoured out in one torrent of eloquence the story of his love andMargaret's. How he had been imprisonedhunted with bloodhounds forherdriven to exile for her; how she had shed her blood for himandnow pined at home. How he had walked through Europe environed byperilstorn by savage brutesattacked by furious men with sword andaxe and traprobbedshipwrecked for her.

Theprincess trembledand tried to get away from him; but he held herrobehe clung to herhe made her hear his pitiful story andMargaret's; he caught her handand clasped it between both hisandhis tears fell fast on her handas he implored her to think on allthe woes of the true lovers she would part; and what but remorseswift and lastingcould come of so deep a love betrayedand sofalse a love feignedwith mutual hatred lurking at the bottom.

Insuch moments none ever resisted Gerard.

Theprincessafter in vain trying to get away from himfor she felt hispower over herbegan to waverand sighand her bosom to rise andfall tumultuouslyand her fiery eyes to fill.

"Youconquer me" she sobbed. "Youor my better angel. LeaveRome!"

"IwillI will."

"Ifyou breathe a word of my follyit will be your last."

"Thinknot so poorly of me. You are my benefactress once more. Is it for meto slander you?"

"Go!I will send you the means. I know myself; if you cross my path againI shall kill you. Addio; my heart is broken."

Shetouched her bell. "Floretta" said shein a choked voice"take him safe out of the housethrough my chamberand by theside postern."

Heturned at the door; she was leaning with one hand on a chaircryingwith averted head. Then he thought only of her kindnessand ran backand kissed her robe. She never moved.

Onceclear of the house he darted homethanking Heaven for his escapesoul and body.

"Landlady"said he"there is one would pick a quarrel with me. What is tobe done?"

"Strikehim firstand at vantage! Get behind him; and then draw."

"AlasI lack your Italian courage. To be serious'tis a noble."

"Ohholy saintsthat is another matter. Change thy lodging awhileandkeep snug; and alter the fashion of thy habits."

Shethen took him to her own niecewho let lodgings at some littledistanceand installed him there.

Hehad little to do nowand no princess to drawso he set himselfresolutely to read that deed of Floris Brandtfrom which he hadhitherto been driven by the abominably bad writing. He mastered itand saw at once that the loan on this land must have been paid overand over again by the rentsand that Ghysbrecht was keeping PeterBrandt out of his own.

"Fool!not to have read this before" he cried. He hired a horse androde down to the nearest port. A vessel was to sail for Amsterdam infour days.

Hetook a passage; and paid a small sum to secure it.

"Theland is too full of cut-throats for me" said he; "and 'tislovely fair weather for the sea. Our Dutch skippers are notshipwrecked like these bungling Italians."

Whenhe returned home there sat his old landlady with her eyes sparkling.

"Youare in luckmy young master" said she. "All the fish runto your net this day methinks. See what a lackey hath brought to ourhouse! This bill and this bag."

Gerardbroke the sealsand found it full of silver crowns. The lettercontained a mere slip of paper with this linecut out of some MS.:-"La lingua non ha ossoma fa rompere il dosso."

"Fearme not!" said Gerard aloud. "I'll keep mine between myteeth."

"Whatis that?"

"Ohnothing. Am I not happydame? I am going back to my sweetheart withmoney in one pocketand land in the other." And he fell todancing round her.

"Well"said she"I trow nothing could make you happier."

"Nothingexcept to be there."

"Wellthat is a pityfor I thought to make you a little happier with aletter from Holland."

"Aletter? for me? where? how? who brought it? - Ohdame!"

"Astranger; a painterwith a reddish face and an outlandish name;AnselminI trow."

"HansMemling! a friend of mine. God bless him!"

"Aythat is it: Anselmin. He could scarce speak a wordbut a had the witto name thee; and a puts the letter downand a nods and smilesandI nods and smilesand gives him a pint o' wineand it went down himlike a spoonful."

"Thatis Hanshonest Hans. OhdameI am in luck to-day; but I deserveit. ForI care not if I tell youI have just overcome a greattemptation for dear Margaret's sake."

"Whois she?"

"NayI'd have my tongue cut out sooner than betray herbut ohit was atemptation. Gratitude pushing me wrongBeauty almost divine pullingme wrong: cursesreproachesand hardest of all to resistgentletears from eyes used to command. Sure some saint helped me Anthonybelike. But my reward is come."

"Ayis itlad; and no farther off than my pocket. Come outGerard'sreward" and he brought a letter out of her capacious pocket.

Gerardthrew his arm round her neck and hugged her.

"Mybest friend" said he"my second motherI'll read it toyou.

"Aydodo."

"Alas!it is not from Margaret. This is not her hand." And he turned itabout.

"Alack;but maybe her bill is within. The lasses are aye for gliding in theirbills under cover of another hand."

"True.Whose hand is this? sure I have seen it. I trow 'tis my dear friendthe demoiselle Van Eyck. Ohthen Margaret's bill will be inside."He tore it open. "Nay'tis all in one writing. 'Gerardmy wellbeloved son' (she never called me that before that I mind)'thisletter brings thee heavy news from one would liever send thee joyfultidings. Know that Margaret Brandt died in these arms on Thursdaysennight last.' (What does the doting old woman mean by that?) 'Thelast word on her lips was "Gerard:" she said"Tellhim I prayed for him at my last hour; and bid him pray for me."She died very comfortableand I saw her laid in the earthfor herfather was uselessas you shall know. So no more at present from herthat is with sorrowing heart thy loving friend and servant
MARGARETVAN EYCK.'"

"Aythat is her signature sure enough. Now what d'ye think of thatdame?" cried Gerardwith a grating laugh. "There is apretty letter to send to a poor fellow so far from home. But it isReicht Heynes I blame for humouring the old woman and letting her doit; as for the old woman herselfshe dotesshe has lost her headshe is fourscore. Ohmy heartI'm choking. For all that she oughtto be locked upor her hands tied. Say this had come to a fool; sayI was idiot enough to believe this; know ye what I should do? run tothe top of the highest church tower in Rome and fling myself off itcursing Heaven. Woman! woman! what are you doing?" And he seizedher rudely by the shoulder. "What are ye weeping for?" hecriedin a voice all unlike his ownand loud and hoarse as a raven."Would ye scald me to death with your tears? She believes it.She believes it. Ah! ah! ah! ah! ah! ah! - Then there is no God."

Thepoor woman sighed and rocked herself.

"Andmust be the one to bring it thee all smiling and smirking? I couldkill myself for't. Death spares none" she sobbed. "Deathspares none."

Gerardstaggered against the window sill. "But He is master of death"he groaned. "Or they have taught me a lie. I begin to fear thereis no Godand the saints are but dead bonesand hell is master ofthe world. My pretty Margaret; my sweetmy loving Margaret. The bestdaughter! the truest lover! the pride of Holland! the darling of theworld! It is a lie. Where is this caitiff Hans? I'll hunt him roundthe town. I'll cram his murdering falsehood down his throat."

Andhe seized his hat and ran furiously about the streets for hours.

Towardssunset he came back white as a ghost. He had not found Memling; buthis poor mind had had time to realise the woman's simple wordsthatDeath spares none.

Hecrept into the house bentand feeble as an old manand refused allfood. Nor would he speakbut satwhitewith great staring eyesmuttering at intervals"There is no God." Alarmed both onhis account and on her own (for he looked a desperate maniac)hislandlady ran for her aunt.

Thegood dame cameand the two womenbraver togethersat one on eachside of himand tried to soothe him with kind and consoling voices.But he heeded them no more than the chairs they sat on. Then theyounger held a crucifix out before himto aid her. "Mariamother of heavencomfort him" they sighed. But he sat glaringdeaf to all external sounds.

Presentlywithout any warninghe jumped upstruck the crucifix rudely out ofhis way with a curseand made a headlong dash at the door. The poorwomen shrieked. But ere he reached the doorsomething seemed to themto draw him up straight by his hairand twirl him round like a top.He whirled twice round with arms extended; then fell like a dead logupon the floorwith blood trickling from his nostrils and ears.

 

CHAPTERXLII

Gerardreturned to consciousness and to despair.

Onthe second day he was raving with fever on the brain.

Ona table hard by lay his rich auburn hairlong as a woman's.

Thedeadlier symptoms succeeded one another rapidly.

Onthe fifth day his leech retired and gave him up.

Onthe sunset of that same day he fell into a deep sleep.

Somesaid he would wake only to die.

Butan old gossipwhose opinion carried weight (she had been aprofessional nurse)declared that his youth might save him yetcould he sleep twelve hours.

Onthis his old landlady cleared the room and watched him alone. Shevowed a wax candle to the Virgin for every hour he should sleep.

Heslept twelve hours.

Thegood soul rejoicedand thanked the Virgin on her knees

Heslept twenty-four hours.

Hiskind nurse began to doubt. At the thirtieth hour she sent for thewoman of art.

"Thirtyhours! shall we wake him?"

Theother inspected him closely for some time.

"Hisbreath is evenhis hand moist. I know there be learned leeches wouldwake himto look at his tongueand be none the wiser; but we thatbe women should have the sense to let bon Nature alone. When didsleep ever harm the racked brain or the torn heart?"

Whenhe had been forty-eight hours asleepit got windand they had muchado to keep the curious out. But they admitted only Fra Colonna andhis friend the gigantic Fra Jerome.

Thesetwo relieved the womenand sat silent; the former eyeing his youngfriend with tears in his eyesthe latter with beads in his handlooked as calmly on him as he had on the sea when Gerard and heencountered it hand to hand.

AtlastI think it was about the sixtieth hour of this strange sleepthe landlady touched Fra Colonna with her elbow. He looked. Gerardhad opened his eyes as gently as if he had been but dozing.

Hestared. He drew himself up a little in bed. He put his hand to hisheadand found his hair was gone. He noticed his friend Colonnaandsmiled with pleasure. But in the middle of smiling his face stoppedand was convulsed in a moment with anguish unspeakableand heuttered a loud cryand turned his face to the wall. His goodlandlady wept at this. She had known what it is to awake bereaved.Fra Jerome recited canticlesand prayers from his breviary.

Gerardrolled himself in the bed-clothes.

FraColonna went to himand whimperingreminded him that all was notlost. The divine Muses were immortal. He must transfer his affectionto them; they would never betray him nor fail him like creatures ofclay. The goodsimple father then hurried away; for he was overcomeby his emotion.

FraJerome remained behind. "Young man" said he"theMuses exist but in the brains of pagans and visionaries. The Churchalone gives repose to the heart on earthand happiness to the soulhereafter. Hath earth deceived theehath passion broken thy heartafter tearing itthe Church opens her arms: consecrate thy gifts toher! The Church is peace of mind."

Hespoke these words solemnly at the doorand was gone as soon as theywere uttered.

"TheChurch!" cried Gerardrising furiouslyand shaking his fistafter the friar. "Malediction on the Church! But for the ChurchI should not lie broken hereand she lie coldcoldcoldinHolland. Ohmy Margaret! ohmy darling! my darling! And I must runfrom thee the few months thou hadst to live. Cruel! cruel! Themonstersthey let her die. Death comes not without some signs. Thesethe blind selfish wretches saw notor recked not; but I had seenthemI that love her. Ohhad I been thereI had saved herI hadsaved her. Idiot! idiot! to leave her for a moment."

Hewept bitterly a long time.

Thensuddenly bursting into rage againhe cried vehemently "TheChurch! for whose sake I was driven from her; my malison be on theChurch! and the hypocrites that name it to my broken heart. Accursedbe the world! Ghysbrecht lives; Margaret dies. Thievesmurderersharlotslive for ever. Only angels die. Curse life! curse death! andwhosoever made them what they are!"

Thefriar did not hear these mad and wicked words; but only the yell ofrage with which they were flung after him.

Itwas as well. Forif he had heard themhe would have had his lateshipmate burned in the forum with as little hesitation as he wouldhave roasted a kid.

Hisold landlady who had accompanied Fra Colonna down the stairheardthe raised voiceand returned in some anxiety.

Shefound Gerard putting on his clothesand crying.

Sheremonstrated.

"Whatavails my lying here?" said he gloomily. "Can I find herethat which I seek?"

"Saintspreserve us! Is he distraught again? What seek ye?"

"Oblivion."

"Oblivionmy little heart? Ohbut y'are young to talk so."

"Youngor oldwhat else have I to live for?"

Heput on his best clothes.

Thegood dame remonstrated. "My pretty Gerardknow that it isTuesdaynot Sunday."

"OhTuesday is it? I thought it had been Saturday."

"Naythou hast slept long. Thou never wearest thy brave clothes on workingdays. Consider."

"WhatI didwhen she livedI did. Now I shall do whatever erst I did not.The past is the past. There lies my hairand with it my way of life.I have served one Master as well as I could. You see my reward. NowI'll serve anotherand give him a fair trial too."

"Alas!"sighed the womanturning pale"what mean these dark words? andwhat new master is this whose service thou wouldst try?"

"SATAN."

Andwith this horrible declaration on his lips the miserable creaturewalked out with his cap and feather set jauntily on one sideandfeeble limbsand a sinister face pale as ashesand all drawn downas if by age.

 

CHAPTERLXIII

Adark cloud fell on a noble mind.

Hispure and unrivalled love for Margaret had been his polar star. It wasquenchedand he drifted on the gloomy sea of no hope.

Norwas he a prey to despair alonebut to exasperation at all hisself-denialfortitudeperilsvirtuewasted and worse than wasted;for it kept burning and stinging himthathad he stayed lazilyselfishly at homehe should have saved his Margaret's life.

Thesetwo poisonsraging together in his young bloodmaddened anddemoralized him. He rushed fiercely into pleasure. And in those dayseven more than nowpleasure was vice. Winewomengamblingwhatever could procure him an hour's excitement and a moment'soblivion. He plunged into these thingsas men tired of life haverushed among the enemy's bullets.

Thelarge sums he had put by for Margaret gave him ample means fordebaucheryand he was soon the leader of those loose companions hehad hitherto kept at a distance.

Hisheart deteriorated along with his morals.

Hesulked with his old landlady for thrusting gentle advice and warningon him; and finally removed to another part of the townto be clearof remonstrance and reminiscences. When he had carried this game onsome timehis hand became less steadyand he could no longer writeto satisfy himself. Moreoverhis patience declined as the habits ofpleasure grew on him. So he gave up that artand took likenesses incolours.

Butthis he neglected whenever the idle rakeshis companionscame forhim.

Andso he dived in foul watersseeking that sorry oyster-shellOblivion.

Itis not my business to paint at full length the scenes of coarse vicein which this unhappy young man now played a part. But it is mybusiness to impress the broad truththat he was a rakea debaucheeand a drunkardand one of the wildestloosestand wickedest youngmen in Rome.

Theyare no lovers of truthnor of mankindwho conceal or slur thewickedness of the goodand so by their want of candour robdespondent sinners of hope.

Enoughthe man was not born to do things by halves. And he was not viciousby halves.

Hishumble female friends often gossiped about him. His old landlady toldTeresa he was going to the badand prayed her to try and find outwhere he was.

Teresatold her husband Lodovico his sad storyand bade him look about andsee if he could discover the young man's present abode. "Shouldstremember his faceLodovico mio?"

"Teresaa man in my way of life never forgets a faceleast of all abenefactor's. But thou knowest I seldom go abroad by daylight."

Teresasighed. "And how long is it to be soLodovico?"

"Tillsome cavalier passes his sword through me. They will not let a poorfellow like me take to any honest trade."

PietroVanucci was one of those who bear prosperity worse than adversity.

Havingbeen ignominiously ejected for late hours by their old landladyandmeeting Gerard in the streethe greeted him warmlyand soon aftertook up his quarters in the same house.

Hebrought with him a lad called Andreawho ground his coloursand washis pupiland also his modelbeing a youth of rare beautyand assharp as a needle.

Pietrohad not quite forgotten old timesand professed a warm friendshipfor Gerard.

Gerardin whom all warmth of sentiment seemed extinctsubmitted coldly tothe other's friendship.

Anda fine acquaintance it was. This Pietro was not only a libertinebuthalf a misanthropeand an open infidel.

Andso they ran in coupleswith mighty little in common. Orarephenomenon!

Onedaywhen Gerard had undermined his healthand taken the bloom offhis beautyand run through most of his moneyVanucci got up a gayparty to mount the Tiber in a boat drawn by buffaloes. Lorenzo de'Medici had imported these creatures into Florence about three yearsbefore. But they were new in Romeand nothing would content thisbeggar on horsebackVanuccibut being drawn by the brutes up theTiber.

Eachlibertine was to bring a lady and she must be handsomeor he befined. But the one that should contribute the loveliest was to becrowned with laureland voted a public benefactor. Such was theirreading of "Vir bonus est quis?" They got a splendidgalleyand twelve buffaloes. And all the libertines and their femaleaccomplices assembled by degrees at the place of embarkation. But noGerard.

Theywaited for him some timeat first patientlythen impatiently.

Vanucciexcused him. "I heard him say he had forgotten to providehimself with a fardingale. Comradesthe good lad is hunting for abeauty fit to take rank among these peerless dames. Consider thedifficultyladiesand be patient!"

Atlast Gerard was seen at some distance with a female in his hand.

"Sheis long enough" said one of her sexcriticising her from afar.

"Gemini!what steps she takes" said another. "Oh! it is wise tohurry into good company" was Pietro's excuse.

Butwhen the pair came upsatire was choked.

Gerard'scompanion was a peerless beauty; she extinguished the boat-loadasstars the rising sun. Tallbut not too tall; and straight as a dartyet supple as a young panther. Her face a perfect ovalher foreheadwhiteher cheeks a rich olive with the eloquent blood mantling belowand her glorious eyes fringed with long thick silken eyelashesthatseemed made to sweep up sensitive hearts by the half dozen. Saucy redlipsand teeth of the whitest ivory.

Thewomen were visibly depressed by this wretched sight; the men inecstasies; they received her with loud shouts and waving of capsandone enthusiast even went down on his knees upon the boat's gunwaleand hailed her of origin divine. But his chere amie pulling his hairfor it - and the goddess giving him a little kick - cotemporaneouslyhe lay supine; and the peerless creature frisked over his bodywithout deigning him a lookand took her seat at the prow. PietroVanucci sat in a sort of collapseglaring at herand gaping withhis mouth open like a dying cod-fish.

Thedrover spoke to the buffaloesthe ropes tightenedand they moved upstream.

"Whatthink ye of this new beefmesdames?"

"Wene'er saw monsters so viley ill-favoured; with their nasty horns thatmake one afeardandtheir foul nostrils cast up into the air. Holesbe they; not nostrils."

"Signorinathe beeves are a present from Florence the beautiful Would ye look agift beef i' the nose?"

"Theyare so dull" objected a lively lady. "I went up Tibertwice as fast last time with but five mules and an ass."

"Naythat is soon mended" cried a gallantand jumping ashore hedrew his swordand despite the remonstrances of the driverswentdown the dozen buffaloes goading them.

Theysnorted and whisked their tailsand went no fasterat which theboat-load laughed loud and long: finally he goaded a patriarch bullwho turned instantly on the swordsent his long horns clean throughthe sparkand with a furious jerk of his prodigious neck sent himflying over his head into the air. He described a bold parabola andfell sittingand unconsciously waving his glittering bladeinto theyellow Tiber. The laughing ladies screamed and wrung their handsallbut Gerard's fair. She uttered something very like an oathandseizing the helm steered the boat outand the gallant came upsputteringgriped the gunwaleand was drawn in dripping.

Heglared round him confusedly. "I understand not that" saidhea little peevishly; puzzledand thereforeit would seemdiscontented. At whichfinding he was by some strange accident notslainhis doublet being perforatedinstead of his bodythey beganto laugh again louder than ever.

"Whatare ye cackling at?" remonstrated the spark"I desire toknow how 'tis that one moment a gentleman is out yonder a pricking ofAfrican beefand the next moment - "

Gerard'slady. "Disporting in his native stream."

"Tellhim nota soul of ye" cried Vanucci. "Let him find out 'sown riddle."

Confoundye all. I might puzzle my brains till doomsdayI should ne'er findit out. Alsowhere is my sword?

Gerard'slady. "Ask Tiber! Your best waysignorwill be to do it overagain; andin a wordkeep pricking of Afric's beeftill your mindreceives light. So shall you comprehend the matter by degreesaslawyers mount heavenand buffaloes Tiber."

Herea chevalier remarked that the last speaker transcended the sons ofAdam as much in wit as she did the daughters of Eve in beauty.

Atwhichand indeed at all their complimentsthe conduct of PietroVanucci was peculiar. That signor had left off staringand gapingbewildered; and now sat coiled up snake-likeon eachhis mouthmuffledand two bright eyes fixed on the' ladyand twinkling andscintillating most comically.

Hedid not appear to interest or amuse her in return. Her glorious eyesand eyelashes swept him calmly at timesbut scarce distinguished himfrom the benches and things.

Presentlythe unanimity of the party suffered a momentary check.

Mortifiedby the attention the cavaliers paid to Gerard's companionthe ladiesbegan to pick her to pieces sotto voceand audibly.

Thelovely girl then showed thatif rich in beautyshe was poor infeminine tact. Instead of revenging herself like a true woman throughthe menshe permitted herself to overhearand openly retaliate onher detractors.

"Thereis not one of you that wears Nature's colours" said' she. "Lookhere" and she pointed rudely in one's face. "This is thebeauty that is to be bought in every shop. Here is cerussahere isstibiumand here purpurissum. OhI know the articles bless youIuse them every day - but not on my faceno thank you.

HereVanucci's eyes twinkled themselves nearly out of sight.

"Whyyour lips are colouredand the very veins in your forehead: not acharm but would come off with a wet towel. And look at your greatcoarse black hair like a horse's taildrugged and stained to looklike tow. And then your bodies are as false as your heads and yourcheeksand your hearts I trow. Look at your padded bosomsand yourwooden heeled chopines to raise your little stunted limbs up anddeceive the world. Skinny dwarfs ye arecushioned and stultifiedinto great fat giants. Ahamesdameswell is it said of yougrande- di legni: grosse - di straci: rosse - di bettito: bianche - dicalcina."

Thisdrew out a rejoinder. "Avauntvulgar toadtelling the meneverything. Your coarseruddy cheeks are your ownand your littlehandful of African hair. But who is padded more? Whyyou are shapedlike a fire-shovel."

"Yeliemalapert."

"Ohthe well-educated young person! Where didst pick her upSer Gerard?"

"Holdthy peaceMarcia" said Gerardawakened by the raised treblesfrom a gloomy reverie. "Be not so insolent! The grave shallclose over thy beauty as it hath over fairer than thee."

"Theybegan" said Marcia petulantly.

"Thenbe thou the first to leave off."

"Atthy requestmy friend." She then whispered Gerard"It wasonly to make you laugh; you are distraughtyou are sad. Judgewhether I care for the quips of these little foolsor the admirationof these big fools. Dear Signor Gerardwould I were what they takeme for? You should not be so sad."

Gerardsighed deeply; and shook his head. But touched by the earnest youngtonescaressed the jet black locksmuch as one strokes the head ofan affectionate dog.

Atthis moment a galley drifting slowly down stream got entangled for aninstant in their ropes: forthe river turning suddenlythey hadshot out into the stream; and this galley came between them and thebank. In it a lady of great beauty was seated under a canopy withgallants and dependents standing behind her.

Gerardlooked up at the interruption. It was the Princess Claelia.

Hecoloured and withdrew his hand from Marcia's head.

Marciawas all admiration. "Aha! ladies" said she"here isa rival an ye will. Those cheeks were coloured by Nature-like mine."

"Peacechild! peace!" said Gerard. "Make not too free with thegreat."

"Whyshe heard me not. OhSer Gerardwhat a lovely creature!"

Twoof the females had been for some time past putting their headstogether and casting glances at Marcia.

Oneof them now addressed her.

"Signorinado you love almonds?"

Thespeaker had a lapful of them.

"YesI love them; when I can get them" said Marcia pettishlyandeyeing the fruit with ill-concealed desire; "but yours is notthe hand to give me anyI trow."

"Youare much mistook" said the other. "Herecatch!" Andsuddenly threw a double handful into Marcia's lap.

Marciabrought her knees together by an irresistible instinct.

"Aha!you are caughtmy lad" cried she of the nuts. "'Tis aman; or a boy. A woman still parteth her knees to catch the nuts thesurer in her apron; but a man closeth his for fear they should allbetween his hose. Confessnowdidst never wear fardingale ereto-day?"

"Giveme another handfulsweetheartand I'll tell thee."

"There!I said he was too handsome for a woman."

"SerGerardthey have found me out" observed the Epicaenecalmlycracking an almond.

Thelibertines vowed it was impossibleand all glared at the goddesslike a battery. But Vanucci struck inand reminded the gaping gazersof a recent controversyin which they hadwith a unanimity notoften found among dunceslaughed Gerard and him to scornfor sayingthat men were as beautiful as women in a true artist's eye.

"Whereare ye now? This is my boy Andrea. And you have all been down on yourknees to him. Ha! ha! But ohmy little ladieswhen he lectured youand flung your stibiumyour cerussaand your purpurissum back inyour faces'tis then I was like to burst; a grinds my colours. Ha!ha! he! he! he! ho!"

"Thelittle impostor! Duck him!"

"Whatforsignors?" cried Andreain dismayand lost his richcarnation.

Butthe females collected round himand vowed nobody should harm a hairof his head.

"Thedear child! How well his pretty little saucy ways become him."

"Ohwhat eyes and teeth!"

"Andwhat eyebrows and hair!"

"Andwhat lashes!"

"Andwhat a nose!"

"Thesweetest little ear in the world!"

"Andwhat health! Touch but his cheek with a pin the blood should squirt."

"Whowould be so cruel?"

"Heis a rosebud washed in dew."

Andthey revenged themselves for their beaux' admiration of her bylavishing all their tenderness on him.

Butone there was who was still among these butterfliesbut no longer ofthem. The sight of the Princess Claelia had torn open his wound.

Scarcethree months ago he had declined the love of that peerless creature;a love illicit and insane; but at least refined.

Howmuch lower had he fallen now.

Howhappy he must have beenwhen the blandishments of Claeliathatmight have melted an anchoritecould not tempt him from the path ofloyalty!

Nowwhat was he? He had blushed at her seeing him in such company. Yet itwas his daily company.

Hehung over the boat in moody silence.

Andfrom that hour another phase of his misery began; and grew upon him.

Somewretched fools try to drown care in drink.

Thefumes of intoxication vanish; the inevitable care remainsand mustbe faced at last - with an aching headdisordered stomachandspirits artificially depressed

Gerard'sconduct had been of a piece with these maniacs'. To survive histerrible blow he needed all his forces; his virtuehis healthhishabits of labourand the calm sleep that is labour's satellite;above allhis piety.

Yetall these balms to wounded hearts he flung away and trusted to moralintoxication.

Itsbrief fumes fled; the bereaved heart lay still heavy as lead withinhis bosom; but now the dark vulture Remorse sat upon it rending it.

Brokenhealth; means wasted; innocence fled; Margaret parted from him byanother gulf wider than the grave! The hot fit of despair passedaway.

Thecold fit of despair came on.

Thenthis miserable young man spurned his gay companionsand all theworld.

Hewandered alone. He drank wine alone to stupefy himself; and paralyzea moment the dark foes to man that preyed upon his soul. He wanderedalone amidst the temples of old Romeand lay stony eyedwoebegoneamong their ruinsworse wrecked than they.

Lastof all came the climaxto which solitudethat gloomy yetfascinating foe of minds diseasedpushes the hopeless.

Hewandered alone at night by dark streamsand eyed themand eyedthemwith decreasing repugnance. There glided peace; perhapsannihilation.

Whatelse was left him?

Thesedark spells have been broken by kind wordsby loving and cheerfulvoices.

Thehumblest friend the afflicted one possesses may speakor lookorsmilea sunbeam between him and that worst madness Gerard nowbrooded.

Wherewas Teresa? Where his heartykind old landlady?

Theywould see with their homely but swift intelligence; they would seeand save.

No;they knew not where he wasor whither he was gliding.

Andis there no mortal eye upon the poor wretchand the dark road he isgoing?

Yes;one eye there is upon him; watching his every movement; following himabroad; tracking him home.

Andthat eye is the eye of an enemy.

Anenemy to the death.

 

CHAPTERLXIV

Inan apartment richly furnishedthe floor covered with striped andspotted skins of animalsa lady sat with her arms extended beforeherand her hands half clenched. The agitation of her facecorresponded with this attitude; she was pale and red by turns; andher foot restless.

Presentlythe curtain was drawn by a domestic.

Thelady's brow flushed.

Themaid saidin an awe-struck whisper: "Altezzathe man is here."

Thelady bade her admit himand snatched up a little black mask and putit on; and in a moment her colour was goneand the contrast betweenher black mask and her marble cheeks was strange and fearful.

Aman entered bowing and scraping. It was such a figure as crowds seemmade of; short hairroundish headplainbut decent clothes;features neither comely not forbidding. Nothing to remark in him buta singularly restless eye.

Aftera profusion of bows he stood opposite the ladyand awaited herpleasure.

"Theyhave told you for what you are wanted?"

"YesSignora."

"Didthose who spoke to you agree as to what you are to receive?"

"YesSignora. 'Tis the full price; and purchases the greater vendetta:unless of your benevolence you choose to content yourself with thelesser."

"Iunderstand you not" said the lady.

"Ah;this is the Signora's first. The lesser vendettaladyis the deathof the body only. We watch our man come out of a church; or take himin an innocent hour; and so deal with him. In the greater vendetta wewatch himand catch him hot from some unrepented sinand so slayhis soul as well as his body. But this vendetta is not so run uponnow as it was a few years ago."

"Mansilence me his tongueand let his treasonable heart beat no more.But his soul I have no feud with."

"Sobe itsignora. He who spoke to me knew not the mannor his namenor his abode. From whom shall I learn these?"

"Frommyself."

Atthis the manwith the first symptoms of anxiety he had shownentreated her to be cautiousand particularin this part of thebusiness.

"Fearme not" said she. "Listen. It is a young mantall ofstatureand auburn hairand dark blue eyesand an honest facewould deceive a saint. He lives in the Via Claudiaat the cornerhouse; the glover's. In that house there lodge but three males: he;and a painter short of stature and dark visagedand a youngslimboy. He that hath betrayed me is a strangerfairand taller thanthou art."

Thebravo listened with all his ears. "It is enough" said he.

"StaySignora; haunteth he any secret place where I may deal with him?"

"Myspy doth report me he hath of late frequented the banks of Tiberafter dusk; doubtless to meet his light o' lovewho calls me herrival; even there slay him! and let my rival come and find him; thesmoothheartlessinsolent traitor."

"Becalmsignora. He will betray no more ladies."

"Iknow not that. He weareth a swordand can use it. He is young andresolute."

"Neitherwill avail him."

"Areye so sure of your hand? What are your weapons?"

Thebravo showed her a steel gauntlet. "We strike with such force weneed must guard our hand. This is our mallet." He then undid hisdoubletand gave her a glimpse of a coat of mail beneathandfinally laid his glittering stiletto on the table with a flourish.

Thelady shuddered at firstbut presently took it up in her white handand tried its point against her finger.

"Bewaremadam" said the bravo.

"Whatis it poisoned?"

"Saintsforbid! We steal no lives. We take them with steel pointnot drugs.But 'tis newly groundand I feared for the Signora's white skin."

"Hisskin is as white as mine" said shewith a sudden gleam ofpity. It lasted but a moment. "But his heart is black as soot.Saydo I not well to remove a traitor that slanders me?"

"Thesignora will settle that with her confessor. I am but a tool in noblehands; like my stiletto."

Theprincess appeared not to hear the speaker. "Ohhow I could haveloved him; to the death; as now I hate him. Fool! he will learn totrifle with princes; to spurn them and fawn on themand prefer thescum of the town to themand make them a by-word." She lookedup. "Why loiter'st thou here? haste theerevenge me."

"Itis customary to pay half the price beforehandSignora."

"AhI forgot; thy revenge is bought. Here is more than half" andshe pushed a bag across the table to him. "When the blow isstruckcome for the rest."

"Youwill soon see me againsignora."

Andhe retired bowing and scraping.

Theprincessburning with jealousymortified prideand dread ofexposure (for till she knew Gerard no public stain had fallen onher)sat where he left hermaskedwith her arms straight outbefore herand the nails of her clenched hand nipping the table.

Sosat the fabled sphynx: so sits a tigress.

Yetthere crept a chill upon her now that the assassin was gone. Andmoody misgivings heaved within herprecursors of vain remorse.Gerard and Margaret were before their age. This was your truemediaeval. Proudamorousvindictivegenerousfoolishcunningimpulsiveunprincipled: and ignorant as dirt.

Poweris the curse of such a creature.

Forcedto do her own crimesthe weakness of her nerves would have balancedthe violence of her passionsand her bark been worse than her bite.But power gives a feeblefurious womanmale instruments. And theeffect is as terrible as the combination is unnatural.

Inthis instance it whetted an assassin's dagger for a poor forlornwretch just meditating suicide.

 

CHAPTERLXV

Ithappenedtwo days after the scene I have endeavoured to describethat Gerardwandering through one of the meanest streets in Romewas overtaken by a thunderstormand entered a low hostelry. Hecalled for wineand the rain continuingsoon drank himself into ahalf stupid conditionand dozed with his head on his hands and hishands upon the table.

Incourse of time the room began to fill and the noise of the rudeguests to wake him.

Thenit was he became conscious of two figures near him conversing in alow voice.

Onewas a pardoner. The other by his dressclean but modestmight havepassed for a decent tradesman; but the way he had slouched his hatover his browsso as to hide all his face except his beardshowedhe was one of those who shun the eye of honest menand of the law.The pair were driving a bargain in the sin market. And by anarrangement not uncommon at that datethe crime to be forgiven wasyet to be committed - under the celestial contract.

Heof the slouched hat was complaining of the price pardons had reached."If they go up any higher we poor fellows shall be shut out ofheaven altogether."

Thepardoner denied the charge flatly. "Indulgences were nevercheaper to good husbandmen.

Theother inquired"Who were they?"

"Whysuch as sin by the marketlike reasonable creatures. But if you willbe so perverse as go and pick out a crime the Pope hath set his faceagainstblame yourselfnot me!"

Thento prove that crime of one sort or another was within the means ofall but the very scum of societyhe read out the scale from awritten parchment.

Itwas a curious list; but not one that could be printed in this book.And to mutilate it would be to misrepresent it. It is to be found inany great library. Suffice it to say that murder of a layman was muchcheaper than many crimes my lay readers would deem light bycomparison.

Thistold; and by a little trifling concession on each sidethe bargainwas closedthe money handed overand the aspirant to heaven'sfavour forgiven beforehand for removing one layman. The price fordisposing of a clerk bore no proportion.

Theword assassination was never once uttered by either merchant.

Allthis buzzed in Gerard's ear. But he never lifted his head from thetable; only listened stupidly.

Howeverwhen the parties rose and separatedhe half raised his headandeyed with a scowl the retiring figure of the purchaser.

"IfMargaret was alive" muttered he"I'd take thee by thethroat and throttle theethou cowardly stabber. But she is dead;dead; dead. Die all the world; 'tis nought to me: so that I die amongthe first."

Whenhe got home there was a man in a slouched hat walking briskly to andfro on the opposite side of the way.

"Whythere is that cur again" thought Gerard.

Butin this state of mindthe circumstance made no impression whateveron him.

 

CHAPTERLXVI

Twonights after this Pietro Vanucci and Andrea sat waiting supper forGerard.

Theformer grew peevish. It was past nine o'clock. At last he sent Andreato Gerard's room on the desperate chance of his having come inunobserved. Andrea shrugged his shoulders and went.

Hereturned without Gerardbut with a slip of paper. Andrea could notreadas scholars in his day and charity boys in ours understand theart; but he had a quick eyeand had learned how the words PietroVanucci looked on paper.

"Thatis for youI trow" said heproud of his intelligence.

Pietrosnatched itand read it to Andreawith his satirical comments.

"'DearPietrodear Andrealife is too great a burden.'

"So'tismy lad' but that is no reason for being abroad at supper-time.Supper is not a burden."

"'Wearmy habits!'

"Saidthe poplar to the juniper bush."

"'AndthouAndreamine amethyst ring; and me in both your hearts a monthor two.'

"WhyAndrea?"

"'Formy bodyere this ye readit will lie in Tiber. Trouble not to lookfor it. 'Tis not worth the pains. Oh unhappy day that it was born ohhappy night that rids me of it.

"'Adieu!adieu!

"'Thebroken-hearted Gerard.'

"Hereis a sorry jest of the peevish rogue" said Pietro. But his palecheek and chattering teeth belied his words. Andrea filled the housewith his cries.

"Omiserable day! Ocalamity of calamities! Gerardmy friendmy sweetpatron! Help! help! He is killing himself! Ohgood peoplehelp mesave him!" And after alarming all the house he ran into thestreetbareheadedimploring all good Christians to help him savehis friend.

Anumber of persons soon collected.

Butpoor Andrea could not animate their sluggishness. Go down to theriver? No. It was not their business. What part of the river? It wasa wild goose chase.

Itwas not lucky to go down to the river after sunset. Too many ghostswalked those banks all night.

Alackeyhoweverwho had been standing some time opposite the housesaid he would go with Andrea; and this turned three or four of theyounger ones.

Thelittle band took the way to the river.

Thelackey questioned Andrea.

Andreasobbingtold him about the letterand Gerard's moody ways of late.

Thatlackey was a spy of the Princess Claelia.

TheirItalian tongues went fast till they neared the Tiber.

Butthe moment they felt the air from the riverand the smell of thestream in the calm spring nightthey were dead silent.

Themoon shone calm and clear in a cloudless sky. Their feet sounded loudand ominous. Their tongues were hushed.

Presentlyhurrying round a corner they met a man. He stopped irresolute atsight of them.

Theman was bareheadedand his dripping hair glistened in the moonlight;and at the next step they saw his clothes were drenched with water.

"Herehe is" cried one of the young menunacquainted with Gerard'sface and figure.

Thestranger turned instantly and fled.

Theyran after him might and mainAndrea leadingand the princess'slackey next.

Andreagained on him; but in a moment he twisted up a narrow alley. Andreashot byunable to check himself; and the pursuers soon foundthemselves in a labyrinth in which it was vain to pursue aquickfooted fugitive who knew every inch of itand could now only befollowed by the ear.

Theyreturned to their companionsand found them standing on the spotwhere the man had stoodand utterly confounded. For Pietro hadassured them that the fugitive had neither the features nor thestature of Gerard.

"Areye verily sure?" said they. "He had been in the river. Whyin the saints' namesfled he at our approach?"

Thensaid Vanucci"Friendsmethinks this has nought to do with himwe seek. What shall we doAndrea?"

Herethe lackey put in his word. "Let us track him to the water'ssideto make sure. Seehe hath come dripping all the way."

Thisadvice was approvedand with very little difficulty they tracked theman's course.

Butsoon they encountered a new enigma.

Theyhad gone scarcely fifty yards ere the drops turned away from theriverand took them to the gate of a large gloomy building. It was amonastery.

Theystood irresolute before itand gazed at the dark pile.

Itseemed to them to hide some horrible mystery.

Butpresently Andrea gave a shout. "Here be the drops again"cried he. And this road leadeth to the river."

Theyresumed the chase; and soon it became clear the drops were nowleading them home. The track became wetter and wetterand took themto the Tiber's edge. And there on the bank a bucketful appeared tohave been discharged from the stream.

Atfirst they shoutedand thought they had made a discovery: butreflection showed them it amounted to nothing. Certainly a man hadbeen in the waterand had got out of it in safety; but that man wasnot Gerard. One said he knew a fisherman hard by that had nets anddrags. They found the fisherman and paid him liberally to sink netsin the river below the placeand to drag it above and below; andpromised him gold should he find the body. Then they ran vainly upand down the river which flowed so calm and voicelessholding thisand a thousand more strange secrets. Suddenly Andreawith a cry ofhoperan back to the house.

Hereturned in less than half an hour.

"No"he groanedand wrung his hands.

"Whatis the hour?" asked the lackey.

"Fourhours past midnight."

"Mypretty lad" said the lackey solemnly"say a mass for thyfriend's soul: for he is not among living men."

Themorning broke. Worn out with fatigueAndrea and Pietro went homeheart sick.

Thedays rolled onmute as the Tiber as to Gerard's fate.

 

CHAPTERLXVII

Itwould indeed have been strange if with such barren data as theypossessedthose men could have read the handwriting on the river'sbank.

Forthere on that spot an event had just occurredwhichtake italtogetherwas perhaps without a parallel in the history of mankindand may remain so to the end of time.

Butit shall be told in a very few wordspartly by mepartly by anactor in the scene.

Gerardthenafter writing his brief adieu to Pietro and Andreahad stolendown to the river at nightfall.

Hehad taken his measures with a dogged resolution not uncommon in thosewho are bent on self-destruction. He filled his pockets with all thesilver and copper he possessedthat he might sink the surer; and soprovidedhurried to a part of the stream that he had seen was littlefrequented.

Thereare someespecially womenwho look about to make sure there issomebody at hand.

Butthis resolute wretch looked about him to make sure there was nobody.

Andto his annoyancehe observed a single figure leaning against thecorner of an alley. So he affected to stroll carelessly away; butreturned to the spot.

Lo!the same figure emerged from a side street and loitered about.

"Canhe be watching me? Can he know what I am here for?" thoughtGerard. "Impossible."

Hewent briskly offwalked along a street or twomade a detour andcame back.

Theman had vanished. But lo! on Gerard looking all roundto make surethere he was a few yards behindapparently fastening his shoe.

Gerardsaw he was watchedand at this moment observed in the moonlight asteel gauntlet in his sentinel's hand.

Thenhe knew it was an assassin.

Strangeto sayit never occurred to him that his was the life aimed at. Tobe sure he was not aware he had an enemy in the world.

Heturned and walked up to the bravo. "My good friend" saidhe eagerly"sell me thine arm! a single stroke! Seehere isall I have;" and he forced his money into the bravo's hands.

"Ohprithee! prithee! do one good deedand rid me of my hateful life!"and even while speaking he undid his doublet and bared his bosom.

Theman stared in his face.

"Whydo ye hesitate?" shrieked Gerard. "Have ye no bowels? Is itso much pains to lift your arm and fall it? Is it because I am poorand can't give ye gold? Useless wretchcanst only strike a manbehind; not look one in the face. Therethendo but turn thy headand hold thy tongue!"

Andwith a snarl of contempt he ran from himand flung himself into thewater.

"Margaret!"

Atthe heavy plunge of his body in the stream the bravo seemed torecover from a stupor. He ran to the bankand with a strange cry theassassin plunged in after the self-destroyer.

Whatfollowed will be related by the assassin.

 

CHAPTERLXVIII

Awoman has her own troublesas a man has his. And we male writersseldom do more than indicate the griefs of the other sex. Theintelligence of the female reader must come to our aidand fill upour cold outlines. So have I indicatedrather than describedwhatMargaret Brandt went through up to that eventful daywhen sheentered Eli's house an enemyread her sweetheart's letterandremained a friend.

Andnow a woman's greatest trial drew nearand Gerard far away.

Sheavailed herself but little of Eli's sudden favour; for this reserveshe had always a plausible reason ready; and never hinted at the trueonewhich was this; there were two men in that house at sight ofwhom she shuddered with instinctive antipathy and dread. She had readwickedness and hatred in their facesand mysterious signals ofsecret intelligence. She preferred to receive Catherine and herdaughter at home. The former went to see her every dayand waswrapped up in the expected event.

Catherinewas one of those females whose office is to multiplyand rear themultiplied: whowhen at last they consent to leave off pelting oneout of every room in the house with babieshover about the fairscourges that are still in full swingand do so cluckthey seem tomultiply by proxy. It was in this spirit she entreated Eli to let herstay at Rotterdamwhile he went back to Tergou.

"Thepoor lass hath not a soul about herthat knows anything aboutanything. What avail a pair o' soldiers? Whythat sort o' cattleshould be putten out o' doors the firstat such an a time."

NeedI say that this was a great comfort to Margaret.

Poorsoulshe was full of anxiety as the time drew near.

Sheshould die; and Gerard away.

Butthings balance themselves. Her povertyand her father'shelplessnesswhich had cost her such a strugglestood her in goodstead now.

Adversity'siron hand had forced her to battle the lassitude that overpowers therich of her sexand to be for ever on her feetworking. She keptthis up to the last by Catherine's advice.

Andso it wasthat one fine eveningjust at sunsetshe lay weak aswaterbut safe; with a little face by her sideand the heaven ofmaternity opening on her.

"Whydost weepsweetheart? All of a sudden?"

"Heis not here to see it."

"Ahwelllasshe will be here ere 'tis weaned. Meantime God hath beenas good to thee as to e'er a woman born; and do but bethink thee itmight have been a girl; didn't my very own Kate threaten me with one;and here we have got the bonniest boy in Hollandand a rare heavyonethe saints be praised for't."

"AymotherI am but a sorryungrateful wretch to weep. If only Gerardwere here to see it. 'Tis strange; I bore him well enow to be awayfrom me in my sorrow; but ohit does seem so hard he should notshare my joy. Pritheepritheecome to meGerard! deardearGerard!" And she stretched out her feeble arms.

Catherinehustled aboutbut avoided Margaret's eyes; for she could notrestrain her own tears at hearing her own absent child thus earnestlyaddressed.

Presentlyturning roundshe found Margaret looking at her with a singularexpression. "Heard you nought?"

"Nomy lamb. What?"

"Idid cry on Gerardbut now."

"Ayaysure I heard that."

"Wellhe answered me."

"Tushgirl: say not that."

"Motheras sure as I lie herewith his boy by my sidehis voice came backto me'Margaret!' So. Yet methought 'twas not his happy voice. Butthat might be the distance. All voices go off sad like at a distance.Why art not happysweetheart? and I so happy this night? MotherIseem never to have felt a pain or known a care." And her sweeteyes turned and gloated on the little face in silence.

Thatvery night Gerard flung himself into the Tiber. And that very hourshe heard him speak her namehe cried aloud in death's jaws anddespair's.

"Margaret!"

Accountfor it those who can. I cannot.

 

CHAPTERLXIX

Inthe guest chamber of a Dominican convent lay a single strangerexhausted by successive and violent fits of nauseawhich had at lastsubsidedleaving him almost as weak as Margaret lay that night inHolland.

Ahuge wood fire burned on the hearthand beside it hung the patient'sclothes.

Agigantic friar sat by his bedsidereading pious collects aloud fromhis breviary.

Thepatient at times eyed himand seemed to listen: at others closed hiseyes and moaned.

Themonk kneeled down with his face touching the ground and prayed forhim; then rose and bade him farewell. "Day breaks" saidhe; "I must prepare for matins."

"GoodFather Jeromebefore you gohow came I hither?"

"Bythe hand of Heaven. You flung away God's gift. He bestowed it on youagain. Think on it! Hast tried the world and found its gall. Now trythe Church! The Church is peace. Pax vobiscum."

Hewas gone. Gerard lay backmeditating and wonderingtill weak andwearied he fell into a doze.

Whenhe awoke again he found a new nurse seated beside him. It was alaymanwith an eye as small and restless as Friar Jerome's was calmand majestic.

Theman inquired earnestly how he felt.

"Veryvery weak. Where have I seen you beforemesser?"

"Nonethe worse for my gauntlet?" inquired the otherwithconsiderable anxiety; "I was fain to strike you withalor bothyou and I should be at the bottom of Tiber."

Gerardstared at him. "What'twas you saved me? How?"

"WellsignorI was by the banks of Tiber on-on an errandno matter what.You came to me and begged hard for a dagger stroke. But ere I couldoblige youayeven as you spoke to meI knew you for the signorthat saved my wife and child upon the sea."

"Itis Teresa's husband. And an assassin?!!?"

"Atyour service. WellSer Gerardthe next thing wasyou flungyourself into Tiberand bade me hold aloof."

"Iremember that."

"Hadit been any but youbelieve me I had obeyed youand not wagged afinger. Men are my foes. They may all hang on one ropeor drown inone river for me. But when thousinking in Tiberdidst cry'Margaret!'"

"Ah!"

"Myheart it cried 'Teresa!' How could I go home and look her in thefacedid I let thee dieand by the very death thou savedst herfrom? So in I went; and luckily for us both I swim like a duck. Youseeing me nearand being bent on destructiontried to grip meandso end us both. But I swam round theeand (receive my excuses) sobuffeted thee on the nape of the neck with my steel glove; that thoulost senseand I with much adothe stream being strongdid drawthy body to landbut insensible and full of water. Then I took theeon my back and made for my own home. 'Teresa will nurse himand bepleased with me' thought I. But hard by this monasterya holyfriarthe biggest e'er I sawmet us and asked the matter. So I toldhim. He looked hard at thee. 'I know the face' quoth he. ''Tis oneGerarda fair youth from Holland.' 'The same' quo' I. Then said hisreverence'He hath friends among our brethren. Leave him with us!Charityit is our office.'

"Alsohe told me they of the convent had better means to tend thee than Ihad. And that was true enow. So I just bargained to be let in to seethee once a dayand here thou art."

Andthe miscreant cast a strange look of affection and interest uponGerard.

Gerarddid not respond to it. He felt as if a snake were in the room. Heclosed his eyes.

"Ahthou wouldst sleep" said the miscreant eagerly. "I go."And he retired on tip-toe with a promise to come every day.

Gerardlay with his eyes closed: not asleepbut deeply pondering.

Savedfrom deathby an assassin. Was not this the finger of Heaven? Ofthat Heaven he had insultedcursedand defied. He shuddered at hisblasphemies. He tried to pray. He found he could utter prayers. Buthe could not pray.

"Iam doomed eternally" he cried"doomeddoomed."

Theorgan of the convent church burst on his ear in rich and solemnharmony.

Thenrose the voices of the choir chanting a full service.

Amongthem was one that seemed to hover above the othersand tower towardsheaven; a sweet boy's voicefullpureangelic.

Heclosed his eyes and listened. The days of his own boyhood flowed backupon him in those sweetpious harmonies. No earthly dross therenofoulfierce passionsrending and corrupting the soul.

Peacepeace; sweetbalmy peace.

"Ay"he sighed"the Church is peace of mind. Till I left her bosom Ine'er knew sorrownor sin.

Andthe poor tornworn creature wept.

Andeven as he weptthere beamed on him the sweet and reverend face ofone he had never thought to see again. It was the face of FatherAnselm.

Thegood father had only reached the convent the night before last.Gerard recognized him in a momentand cried to him"OhFatherAnselmyou cured my wounded body in Juliers: now cure my hurt soulin Rome! Alasyou cannot."

Anselmsat down by the bedsideand putting a gentle hand on his headfirstcalmed him with a soothing word or two.

Hethen (for he had learned how Gerard came there) spoke to him kindlybut solemnlyand made him feel his crimeand urged him torepentanceand gratitude to that Divine Power which had thwarted hiswill to save his soul.

"Comemy son" said he"first purge thy bosom of its load."

"Ahfather" said Gerard"in Juliers I could; then I wasinnocent but nowimpious monster that I amI dare not confess toyou."

"Whynotmy son? Thinkest thou I have not sinned against Heaven in mytimeand deeply? ohhow deeply! Comepoor laden soulpour forththy griefpour forth thy faultshold back nought! Lie not oppressedand crushed by hidden sins."

Andsoon Gerard was at Father Anselm's knees confessing his every sinwith sighs and groans of penitence.

"Thysins are great" said Anselm. "Thy temptation also wasgreatterribly great. I must consult our good prior."

Thegood Anselm kissed his browand left himto consult the superior asto his penance.

Andlo! Gerard could pray now.

Andhe prayed with all his heart.

Thephasethrough which this remarkable mind now passedmay be summedin a word - Penitence.

Heturned with terror and aversion from the worldand beggedpassionately to remain in the convent. To himconvent nurtureditwas like a bird returning woundedweariedto its gentle nest.

Hepassed his novitiate in prayerand mortificationand pious readingand meditation.

ThePrincess Claelia's spy went home and told her that Gerard wascertainly deadthe manner of his death unknown at present.

Sheseemed literally stunned. Whenafter a long timeshe found breathto speak at allit was to bemoan her lotcursed with such readytools. "So soon" she sighed; "see how swift thesemonsters are to do ill deeds. They come to us in our hot bloodandfirst tempt us with their venal daggersthen enact the mortal deedswe ne'er had thought on but for them."

Eremany hours had passedher pity for Gerard and hatred of his murdererhad risen to fever heat; which with this fool was blood heat.

"Poorsoul! I cannot call thee back to life. But he shall never live thattraitorously slew thee."

Andshe put armed men in ambushand kept them on guard all dayreadywhen Lodovico should come for his moneyto fall on him in a certainantechamber and hack him to pieces.

"Strikeat his head" said she"for he weareth a privy coat ofmail; and if he goes hence alive your own heads shall answer it.'

Andso she sat weeping her victimand pulling the strings of machines toshed the blood of a second for having been her machine to kill thefirst.

 

CHAPTERLXX

Oneof the novice Gerard's self-imposed penances was to receive Lodovicokindlyfeeling secretly as to a slimy serpent.

Neverwas self-denial better bestowed; and like most rational penancesitsoon became no penance at all. At first the pride and complacencywith which the assassin gazed on the one life he had savedwasperhaps as ludicrous as pathetic; but it is a great thing to open agood door in a heart. One good thing follows another through theaperture. Finding it so sweet to save lifethe miscreant went on tobe averse to taking it; and from that to remorse; and from remorse tosomething very like penitence. And here Teresa cooperated bythreateningnot for the first timeto leave him unless he wouldconsent to lead an honest life. The good fathers of the convent lenttheir aidand Lodovico and Teresa were sent by sea to LeghornwhereTeresa had friendsand the assassin settled down and became aporter.

Hefound it miserably dull work at first; and said so.

Butmethinks this dull life of plodding labour was better for himthanthe brief excitement of being hewn in pieces by the PrincessClaelia's myrmidons. His exile saved the unconscious penitent fromthat fate; and the princess. balked of her revengetook to broodingand fell into a profound melancholy; dismissed her confessorandtook a new one with a great reputation for pietyto whom sheconfided what she called her griefs. The new confessor was no otherthan Fra Jerome. She could not have fallen into better hands.

Heheard her grimly out. Then took her and shook the delusions out ofher as roughly as if she had been a kitchen-maid. Forto do thishard monk justiceon the path of duty he feared the anger of princesas little as he did the sea. He showed her in a few wordsallthunder and lightningthat she was the criminal of criminals.

"Thouart the devilthat with thy money hath tempted one man to slay hisfellowand thenblinded with self-loveinstead of blaming andpunishing thyselfart thirsting for more blood of guilty menbutnot so guilty as thou."

Atfirst she resistedand told him she was not used to be taken to taskby her confessors. But he overpowered herand so threatened her withthe Church's curse here and hereafterand so tore the scales off hereyesand thundered at herand crushed herthat she sank down andgrovelled with remorse and terror at the feet of the giganticBoanerges.

"Ohholy fatherhave pity on a poor weak womanand help me save myguilty soul. I was benighted for want of ghostly counsel like thinegood father. I waken as from a dream.

"Doffthy jewels" said Fra Jerome sternly.

"Iwill. I will."

"Doffthy silk and velvet; and in humbler garb than wears thy meanestservantwend thou instant to Loretto."

"Iwill" said the princess faintly.

"Noshoes; but a bare sandal.'

"Nofather."

"Washthe feet of pilgrims both going and coming; and to such of them as beholy friars tell thy sinand abide their admonition."

"Ohholy fatherlet me wear my mask."

"Humph!"

"Ohmercy! Bethink thee! My features are known through Italy."

"Ay.Beauty is a curse to most of ye. Wellthou mayst mask thine eyes; nomore."

Onthis concession she seized his handand was about to kiss it; but hesnatched it rudely from her.

"Whatwould ye do? That hand handled the eucharist but an hour agone: is itfit for such as thou to touch it?"

"Ahno. But ohgo not without giving your penitent daughter yourblessing."

"Timeenow to ask it when you come back from Loretto."

Thusthat marvellous occurrence by Tiber's banks left its mark on all theactorsas prodigies are said to do. The assassinsoftened by savingthe life he was paid to taketurned from the stiletto to theporter's knot. The princess went barefoot to Lorettoweeping hercrime and washing the feet of base-born men.

AndGerardcarried from the Tiber into that convent a suicidenowpassed for a young saint within its walls.

Lovingbut experienced eyes were on him.

Upona shorter probation than usual he was admitted to priest's orders.

Andsoon after took the monastic vowsand became a friar of St. Dominic.

Dyingto the worldthe monk parted with the very name by which he hadlived in itand so broke the last link of association with earthlyfeelings.

HereGerard endedand Brother Clement began

 

CHAPTERLXXI

"Asis the race of leaves so is that of men." And a great man buddedunnoticed in a tailor's house at Rotterdam this yearand a large mandropped to earth with great eclat.

PhilipDuke of BurgundyEarl of Hollandetc.etc.lay sick at Bruges.Now paupers got sick and got well as Nature pleased; but woe betidedthe rich in an age whenfor one Mr. Malady killed three fell by Dr.Remedy.

TheDuke's complaintnameless thenis now diphtheria. It isand wasavery weakening maladyand the Duke was old; so altogether Dr. Remedybled him.

TheDuke turned very cold: wonderful!

ThenDr. Remedy had recourse to the arcana of science.

"Ho!This is grave. Flay me an ape incontinentand clap him to the Duke'sbreast!"

Officersof state ran septemviousseeking an apeto counteract thebloodthirsty tomfoolery of the human species.

Perdition!The duke was out of apes. There were buffaloeslizardsTurksleopards; any unreasonable beast but the right one.

"Whythere used to be an ape about" said one. "If I stand hereI saw him."

Sothere used; but the mastiff had mangled the sprightly creature forstealing his supper; and so fulfilled the human precept"Soyezde votre siecle!"

Inthis emergency the seneschal cast his despairing eyes around; and notin vain. A hopeful light shot into them.

"Hereis this" said hesotto voce. "Surely this will serve:'tis altogether apelikedoublet and hose apart"

"Nay"said the chancellor peevishly"the Princess Marie would hangus. She doteth on this."

Nowthis was our friend Gilesstruttingall unconsciousin cloth ofgold.

ThenDr. Remedy grew impatientand bade flay a dog.

"Adog is next best to an ape; only it must be a dog all of one colour."

Sothey flayed a liver-coloured dogand clapped ityet palpitatingtotheir sovereign's breast and he died.

Philipthe Goodthus scientifically disposed ofleft thirty-one children:of whom onesomehow or anotherwas legitimate; and reigned in hisstead.

Thegood duke provided for nineteen out of the other thirty; the restshifted for themselves.

Accordingto the Flemish chronicle the deceased prince was descended from thekings of Troy through Thierry of Aquitaineand ChilpericPharamondetc.the old kings of Franconia.

Butthis in reality was no distinction. Not a prince of his day have Ibeen able to discover who did not come down from Troy. Priam"was mediaeval for "Adam."

Thegood duke'sbody was carried into Burgundyand laid in a noblemausoleum of black marble at Dijon.

Hollandrang with his death; and little dreamed that anything as famous wasborn in her territory that year. That judgment has been longreversed. Men gaze at the tailor's househere the great birth of thefifteenth century took place. In what house the good duke died "noone knows and no one cares" as the song says.

Andwhy?

DukesPhilip the Good come and goand leave mankind not a halfpenny wisernor betternor other than they found it.

Butwhenonce in three hundred yearssuch a child is born to the worldas Margaret's sonlo! a human torch lighted by fire from heaven; and"FIAT LUX" thunder's from pole to pole.

 

CHAPTERLXXII

TheCloister

TheDominicansor preaching friarsonce the most powerful order inEuropewere now on the wane; their rivals and bitter enemiestheFranciscanswere overpowering them throughout Europe; even inEnglanda rich and religious countrywhere under the name of theBlack Friarsthey had once been paramount.

Thereforethe sagacious menwho watched and directed the interests of theorderwere never so anxious to incorporate able and zealous sons andsend them forth to win back the world.

Thezeal and accomplishments of Clementespecially his rare mastery oflanguage (for he spoke LatinItalianFrenchhigh and low Dutch)soon transpiredand he was destined to travel and preach in Englandcorresponding with the Roman centre.

ButJeromewho had the superior's earobstructed this design.

"Clement"said he"has the milk of the world still in his veinsitsfeelingsits weaknesses let not his new-born zeal and his humilitytempt us to forego our ancient wisdom. Try him firstand temper himlest one day we find ourselves leaning on a reed for a staff.

"Itis well advised" said the prior. "Take him in handthyself."

ThenJeromefollowing the ancient wisdomtook Clement and tried him.

Oneday he brought him to a field where the young men amused themselvesat the games of the day; he knew this to be a haunt of Clement's latefriends.

Andsure enough ere long Pietro Vanucci and Andrea passed by themandcast a careless glance on the two friars. They did not recognizetheir dead friend in a shaven monk.

Clementgave a very little startand then lowered his eyes and said apaternoster.

"Wouldye not speak with thembrother?" said Jerometrying him.

"Nobrother: yet was it good for me to see them. They remind me of thesins I can never repent enough."

"Itis well" said Jeromeand he made a cold report in Clement'sfavour.

ThenJerome took Clement to many death-beds. And then into noisomedungeons; places where the darkness was appallingand the stenchloathsomepestilential; and men looking like wild beasts lay coiledin rags and filth and despair. It tried his body hard; but the soulcollected all its powers to comfort such poor wretches there as werenot past comfort. And Clement shone in that trial. Jerome reportedthat Clement's spirit was willingbut his flesh was weak.

"Good!"said Anselm; "his flesh is weakbut his spirit is willing."

Butthere was a greater trial in store.

Iwill describe it as it was seen by others.

Onemorning a principal street in Rome was crowdedand even the avenuesblocked up with heads. It was an execution. No common crime had beendoneand on no vulgar victim.

Thegovernor of Rome had been found in his bed at daybreakslaughtered.His handraised probably in self-defencelay by his side severed atthe wrist; his throat was cutand his temples bruised with someblunt instrument. The murder had been traced to his servantand wasto be expiated in kind this very morning.

Italianexecutions were not cruel in general. But this murder was thought tocall for exact and bloody retribution.

Thecriminal was brought to the house of the murdered man and fastenedfor half an hour to its wall. After this foretaste of legal vengeancehis left hand was struck offlike his victim's. A new-killed fowlwas cut open and fastened round the bleeding stump; with what view Ireally don't know; but by the look of itsome mare's nest of thepoor dear doctors; and the murdererthus mutilated and bandagedwashurried to the scaffold; and there a young friar was most earnest andaffectionate in praying with himand for himand holding thecrucifix close to his eyes.

Presentlythe executioner pulled the friar roughly on one sideand in a momentfelled the culprit with a heavy malletand falling on himcut histhroat from ear to ear.

Therewas a cry of horror from the crowd.

Theyoung friar swooned away.

Agigantic monk strode forwardand carried him off like a child.

BrotherClement went back to the convent sadly discouraged. He confessed tothe priorwith tears of regret.

"Courageson Clement" said the prior. "A Dominican is not made in aday. Thou shalt have another trial. And I forbid thee to go to itfasting." Clement bowed his head in token of obedience. He hadnot long to wait. A robber was brought to the scaffold; a monster ofvillainy and crueltywho had killed men in pure wantonnessafterrobbing them. Clement passed his last night in prison with himaccompanied him to the scaffoldand then prayed with him and for himso earnestly that the hardened ruffian shed tears and embraced himClement embraced him toothough his flesh quivered with repugnance;and held the crucifix earnestly before his eyes. The man wasgarottedand Clement lost sight of the crowdand prayed loud andearnestly while that dark spirit was passing from earth. He was nosooner dead than the hangman raised his hatchet and quartered thebody on the spot. Andohmysterious heart of man! the people whohad seen the living body robbed of life with indifferencealmostwith satisfactionuttered a piteous cry at each stroke of the axeupon his corpse that could feel nought. Clement too shuddered thenbut stood firmlike one of those rocks that vibrate but cannot bethrown down. But suddenly Jerome's voice sounded in his ear.

"BrotherClementget thee on that cart and preach to the people. Nayquickly! strike with all thy force on all this ironwhile yet 'tishotand souls are to be saved."

Clement'scolour came and went; and he breathed hard. But he obeyedand withill-assured step mounted the cartand preached his first sermon tothe first crowd he had ever faced. Ohthat sea of heads! His throatseemed parchedhis heart thumpedhis voice trembled.

By-and-bythe greatness of the occasionthe sight of the eager upturned facesand his own heart full of zealfired the pale monk. He told themthis robber's historywarm from his own lips in the prisonandshowed his hearers by that example the gradations of folly and crimeand warned them solemnly not to put foot on the first round of thatfatal ladder. And as alternately he thundered against the shedders ofbloodand moved the crowd to charity and pityhis tremors left himand he felt all strung up like a luteand gifted with an unsuspectedforce; he was master of that listening crowdcould feel their verypulsecould play sacred melodies on them as on his psaltery. Sobsand groans attested his power over the mob already excited by thetragedy before them. Jerome stared like one who goes to light astick; and fires a rocket. After a while Clement caught his look ofastonishmentand seeing no approbation in itbroke suddenly offand joined him.

"Itwas my first endeavour" said he apologetically. "Yourbehest came on me like a thunderbolt. Was I? - Did I? - Ohcorrectmeand aid me with your experienceBrother Jerome."

"Humph!"said Jerome doubtfully. He addedrather sullenly after longreflection"Give the glory to GodBrother Clement; my opinionis thou art an orator born."

Hereported the same at headquartershalf reluctantly. For he was anhonest friar though a disagreeable one.

OneJulio Antonelli was accused of sacrilege; three witnesses swore theysaw him come out of the church whence the candle-sticks were stolenand at the very time. Other witnesses proved an alibi for him aspositively. Neither testimony could be shaken. In this doubtAntonelli was permitted the trial by waterhot or cold. By the hottrial he must put his bare arm into boiling waterfourteen inchesdeepand take out a pebble; by the cold trial his body must be letdown into eight feet of water. The clergywho thought him innocentrecommended the hot water trialwhichto those whom they favouredwas not so terrible as it sounded. But the poor wretch had not thenerveand chose the cold ordeal. And this gave Jerome anotheropportunity of steeling Clement. Antonelli took the sacramentandthen was stripped naked on the banks of the Tiberand tied hand andfootto prevent those struggles by which a manthrowing his armsout of the watersinks his body.

Hewas then let down gently into the streamand floated a momentwithjust his hair above water. A simultaneous roar from the crowd on eachbank proclaimed him guilty. But the next moment the ropeswhichhappened to be newgot wetand he settled down. Another roarproclaimed his innocence. They left him at the bottom of the riverthe appointed timerather more than half a minutethen drew him upgurgling and gaspingand screaming for mercy; and after theappointed prayersdismissed himcleared of the charge.

Duringthe experiment Clement prayed earnestly on the bank.

Whenit was over he thanked God in a loud but slightly quavering voice.

By-and-byhe asked Jerome whether the man ought not to be compensated.

"Forwhat?"

"Forthe painthe dreadthe suffocation. Poor soulhe livethbut hathtasted all the bitterness of death. Yet he had done no ill."

"Heis rewarded enough in that he is cleared of his fault."

"Butbeing innocent of that faultyet hath he drunk Death's cupthoughnot to the dregs; and his accusersless innocent than hedo suffernought."

Jeromereplied somewhat sternly -

"Itis not in this world men are really punishedBrother Clement.Unhappy they who sin yet suffer not. And happy they who suffer suchills as earth hath power to inflict; 'tis counted to them aboveayand a hundred-fold."

Clementbowed his head submissively.

"Maythy good words not fall to the groundbut take root in my heartBrother Jerome."

Butthe severest trial Clement underwent at Jerome's hands wasunpremeditated. It came about thus. Jeromein an indulgent momentwent with him to Fra Colonnaand there "The Dream of Polifilo"lay on the table just copied fairly. The poor authorin the pride ofhis heartpointed out a master-stroke in it.

"Forages" said he"fools have been lavishing poetic praiseand amorous compliment on mortal womenmere creatures of earthsmacking palpably of their origin; Sirens at the windowswhere ourRoman women in particular have by lifelong study learned the wily artto show their one good featurethough but an ear or an eyelashat ajalosyand hide all the rest; Magpies at the doorCapre n' igiardiniAngeli in StradaSante in chiesaDiavoli in casa. Thencome I and ransack the minstrels' lines for amorous turnsnotforgetting those which Petrarch wasted on that French jilt Laurathesliest of them all; and I lay you the whole bundle of spice at thefeet of the only females worthy amorous incense; to witthe NineMuses."

"Bywhich goodly stratagem" said Jeromewho had been turning thepages all this time"youa friar of St. Dominichave producedan obscene book." And he dashed Polifilo on the table.

"Obscene?thou discourteous monk!" And the author ran round the tablesnatched Polifilo awaylocked him upand trembling withmortificationsaid"My Gerardpshaw! Brother What's-his-namehad not found Polifilo obscene. Puris omnia pura."

"Suchas read your Polifilo - Heaven grant they may be few - will find himwhat I find him."

PoorColonna gulped down this bitter pill as he might; and had he not beenin his own lodgingsand a high-born gentleman as well as a scholarthere might have been a vulgar quarrel.

Asit washe made a great effortand turned the conversation to abeautiful chrysolite the Cardinal Colonna had lent him; and whileClement handled itenlarged on its moral virtues: for he went thewhole length of his age as a worshipper of jewels.

ButJerome did notand expostulated with him for believing that one deadstone could confer valour on its weareranother chastityanothersafety from poisonanother temperance.

"Theexperience of ages proves they do" said Colonna. "As tothe last virtue you have namedthere sits a living proof. ThisGerard - I beg pardonBrother Thingemy - comes from the northwheremen drink like fishes; yet was he ever most abstemious. And why?Carried an amethystthe clearest and fullest coloured e'er I saw onany but noble finger. Wherein Heaven's nameis thine amethyst?Show it this unbeliever!"

"And'twas that amethyst made the boy temperate?" asked Jeromeironically.

"Certainly.Whywhat is the derivation and meaning of amethyst? anegativeand mequato tipple. Go tonames are but the signs of things. A stone is notcalled amequstos fortwo thousand years out of mere sportand abuse of language."

Hethen went through the prime jewelsillustrating their moralpropertiesespecially of the rubythe sapphirethe emeraldandthe opalby anecdotes out of grave historians.

"Thesebe old wives' fables" said Jerome contemptuously. "Wasever such credulity as thine?"

Nowcredulity is a reproach sceptics have often the ill-luck to incur;but it mortifies them none the less for that.

Thebeliever in stones writhed under itand dropped the subject. ThenJeromemistaking his silenceexhorted him to go a step fartherandgive up from this day his vain pagan loreand study the lives of thesaints. "Blot out these heathen superstitions from thy mindbrotheras Christianity hath blotted them from the earth."

Andin this strain he proceededrepeatingincautiouslysome currentbut loose theological statements. Then the smarting Polifilo revengedhimself. He flew outand hurled a mountain of crudemiscellaneouslore upon Jeromeof whichpartly for want of timepartly for lackof learningI can reproduce but a few fragments.

"Theheathen blotted out? Whythey hold four-fifths of the world. Andwhat have we Christians invented without their aid? painting?sculpture? these are heathen artsand we but pigmies at them. Whatmodern mind can conceive and grave so god-like forms as did the chiefAthenian sculptorsand the Libyan Licasand Dinocrates of Macedonand ScopasTimotheusLeocharesand Briaxis; CharesLysippusandthe immortal three of Rhodesthat wrought Laocoon from a singleblock? What prince hath the genius to turn mountains into statuesaswas done at Bagistanand projected at Athos? What town the soul toplant a colossus of brass in the seafor the tallest ships to sailin and out between his legs? Is it architecture we have invented?Whyhere too we are but children. Can we match for pure design theParthenonwith its clusters of double and single Doric columns? (Ido adore the Doric when the scale is large)and for grandeur andfinishthe theatres of Greece and Romeor the prodigious temples ofEgyptup to whose portals men walked awe-struck through avenues amile long of sphinxeseach as big as a Venetian palace. And allthese prodigies of porphyry cut and polished like crystalnot roughhewn as in our puny structures. Even now their polished columns andpilasters lie o'erthrown and brokeno'ergrown with acanthus andmyrtlebut sparkling stilland flouting the slovenly art of modemworkmen. Is it sewersaqueductsviaducts?

"Whywe have lost the art of making a road - lost it with the world'sgreatest models under our very eye. Is it sepulchres of the dead?Whyno Christian nation has ever erected a tombthe sight of whichdoes not set a scholar laughing. Do but think of the Mausoleumandthe Pyramidsand the monstrous sepulchres of the Indus and Gangeswhich outside are mountainsand within are mines of precious stones.Ahyou have not seen the EastJeromeor you could not decry theheathen."

Jeromeobserved that these were mere material things. True greatness was inthe soul.

"Wellthen" replied Colonna"in the world of mindwhat have wediscovered? Is it geometry? Is it logic? Naywe are all pupils ofEuclid and Aristotle. Is it written charactersan invention almostdivine? We no more invented it than Cadmus did. Is it poetry? Homerhath never been approached by usnor hath Virgilnor Horace. Is ittragedy or comedy? Whypoetsactorstheatresall fell to dust atour touch. Have we succeeded in reviving them? Would you compare ourlittle miserable mysteries and moralitiesall frigidpersonificationand dog Latinwith the glories of a Greek play (onthe decoration of which a hundred thousand crowns had been spent)performed inside a marble miraclethe audience a seated cityandthe poet a Sophocles?

"Whatthen have we invented? Is it monotheism? Whythe learned andphilosophical among the Greeks and Romans held it; even their moreenlightened poets were monotheists in their sleeves. "Zeusestin ouranosZeus te gh Zeus toi panta "saith the Greekand Lucan echoes him: 'Jupiter est quod cunquevides quo cunque moveris.'

"Theirvulgar were polytheists; and what are ours? We have not invented'invocation of the saints.' Our sancti answers to their Daemones andDiviand the heathen used to pray their Divi or deified mortal tointercede with the higher divinity; but the ruder minds among themincapable of nice distinctionsworshipped those lesser gods theyshould have but invoked. And so do the mob of Christians in our dayfollowing the heathen vulgar or by unbroken tradition. For in holywrit is no polytheism of any sort or kind.

"Wehave not invented so much as a form or variety of polytheism. Thepagan vulgar worshipped all sorts of deified mortalsand each hadhis favouriteto whom he prayed ten times for once to theOmnipotent. Our vulgar worship canonized mortalsand each has hisfavouriteto whom he prays ten times for once to God. Call you thatinvention? Invention is confined to the East. Among the ancientvulgar only the mariners were monotheists; they worshipped Venus;called her 'Stella maris' and 'Regina caelorum.' Among our vulgaronly the mariners are monotheists; they worship the Virgin Maryandcall her the 'Star of the Sea' and the 'Queen of Heaven.' Call youtheirs a new religion? An old doubtlet with a new button. Our vulgarmake imagesand adore themwhich is absurd; for adoration is thehomage due from a creature to its creator; now here man is thecreator; so the statues ought to worship himand wouldif they hadbrains enough to justify a rat in worshipping them. But even thisabusethough childish enough to be modernis ancient. The paganvulgar in these parts made their imagesthen knelt before themadorned them with flowersoffered incense to themlighted tapersbefore themcarried them in processionand made pilgrimages to themjust to the smallest tittle as we their imitators do."

Jeromehere broke in impatientlyand reminded him that the images the mostrevered in Christendom were made by no mortal handbut had droppedfrom heaven.

"Ay"cried Colonna"such are the tutelary images of most greatItalian towns. I have examined nineteen of themand made drafts ofthem. If they came from the skyour worst sculptors are our angels.But my mind is easy on that score. Ungainly statue or villainous daubfell never yet from heaven to smuggle the bread out of capableworkmen's mouths. All this is Paganand arose thus. The Trojans hadOriental imaginationsand feigned that their Palladiuma woodenstatue three cubits longfell down from heaven. The Greeks took thisfib home among the spoils of Troyand soon it rained statues on allthe Grecian citiesand their Latin apes. And one of these Palladiagave St. Paul trouble at Ephesus; 'twas a statue of Diana that felldown from Jupiter: credat qui credere possit."

"Whatwould you cast your profane doubts on that picture of our blessedLadywhich scarce a century agone hung lustrous in the air over thisvery cityand was taken down by the Pope and bestowed in St. Peter'sChurch?"

"Ihave no profane doubts on the matterJerome. This is the story ofNuma's shieldrevived by theologians with an itch for fictionbutno talent that way; not being orientals. The 'ancile' or sacredshield of Numa hung lustrous in the air over this very citytillthat pious prince took it down and hung it in the temple of Jupiter.Be justswallow both stories or neither. The 'Bocca della Verita'passes for a statue of the Virginand convicted a woman of perjurythe other day; it is in reality an image of the goddess Rheaand themodern figment is one of its ancient traditions; swallow both orneither.
'Qui Bavium non odit amet tua carminaMavi.'

"Butindeed we owe all our Palladiunculaand all our speakingnoddingwinkingsweatingbleeding statuesto these poor abused heathens;the Athenian statues all sweated before the battle of Chaeroneasodid the Roman statues during Tully's consulshipviz.the statue ofVictory at Capuaof Mars at Romeand of Apollo outside the gates.The Palladium itself was brought to Italy by Aeneasand afterkeeping quiet three centuriesmade an observation in Vesta's Temple:a trivial oneI fearsince it hath not survived; Juno's statue atVeii assented with a nod to go to Rome. Antony's statue on MountAlban bled from every vein in its marble before the fight of Actium.Others cured diseases: as that of Pelichusderided by Lucian; forthe wiser among the heathen believed in sweating marbleweepingwoodand bleeding brass - as I do. Of all our marks and dents madein stone by soft substancesthis saint's kneeand that saint'sfingerand t'other's headthe original is heathen. Thus thefootprints of Hercules were shown on a rock in Scythia. Castor andPollux fighting on white horses for Rome against the Latiansleftthe prints of their hoofs on a rock at Regillum. A temple was builtto them on the spotand the marks were to be seen in Tully's day.You may seenear Venicea great stone cut nearly in half by St.George's sword. This he ne'er had done but for the old Roman who cutthe whetstone in two with his razor.
'Qui Bavium non odit amet tuacarminaMavi.'

"Kissingof imagesand the Pope's toeis Eastern Paganism. The Egyptians hadit of the Assyriansthe Greeks of the Egyptiansthe Romans of theGreeksand we of the Romanswhose Pontifex Maximus had his toekissed under the Empire. The Druids kissed the High Priest's toe athousand years B.C. The Mussulmanswholike youprofess to abhorHeathenismkiss the stone of the Caaba: a Pagan practice.

"ThePriests of Baal kissed their idols so.

"Tullytells us of a fair image of Hercules at Agrigentumwhose chin wasworn by kissing. The lower parts of the statue we call Peter areJupiter. The toe is sore wornbut not all by Christian mouths. Theheathen vulgar laid their lips there firstfor many a yearand ourshave but followed themas monkeys their masters. And that is whydown with the poor heathen!
Pereant qui ante nos nostra fecerint.

"Ourinfant baptism is Persianwith the font and the signing of thechild's brow. Our throwing three handfuls of earth on the coffinandsaying dust to dustis Egyptian.

"Ourincense is OrientalRomanPagan; and the early Fathers of theChurch regarded it with superstitious horrorand died for refusingto handle it. Our Holy water is Paganand all its uses. Seehere isa Pagan aspersorium. Could you tell it from one of ours? It stood inthe same part of their templesand was used in ordinary worship asoursand in extraordinary purifications. They called it Aqualustralis. Their vulgarlike oursthought drops of it falling onthe body would wash out sin; and their men of senselike ourssmiled or sighed at such credulity. What saith Ovid of this follywhich hath outlived him?
'Ah nimium facilesqui tristia criminacoedis
Fluminea tolli posse putetis aqua.' Thou seest the heathenwere not all fools. No more are we. Not all."

FraColonna uttered all this with such volubilitythat his hearers couldnot edge in a word of remonstrance; and not being interrupted inpraising his favouriteshe recovered his good humourwithout anydiminution of his volubility.

"Wecelebrate the miraculous Conception of the Virgin on the 2nd ofFebruary. The old Romans celebrated the Miraculous Conception of Junoon the 2nd of February. Our feast of All Saints is on the 2ndNovember. The Festum Dei Mortis was on the 2nd November. OurCandlemas is also an old Roman feast; neither the date nor theceremony altered one tittle. The patrician ladies carried candlesabout the city that night as our signoras do now. At the gate of SanCroce our courtesans keep a feast on the 20th August. Ask them why!The little noodles cannot tell you. On that very spot stood theTemple of Venus. Her building is gone; but her rite remains. Did wediscover Purgatory? On the contraryall we really know about it isfrom two treatises of Platothe Gorgias and the Phaedoand thesixth book of Virgil's Aeneid.

"Itake it from a holier source: St. Gregory" said Jerome sternly.

"Likeenough" replied Colonna drily. "But St. Gregory was not sonice; he took it from Virgil. Some soulssaith Gregoryare purgedby fireothers by waterothers by air.

"SaysVirgil -
'Aliae panduntur inanes
Suspensae ad ventousaliis sub gurgite vasto
Infectum eluitur scelusaut exuriturigni.'

Butperadventureyou think Pope Gregory I lived before VirgilandVirgil versified him.

"Butthe doctrine is Easternand as much older than Plato as Plato thanGregory. Our prayers for the dead came from Asia with Aeneas. Ovidtellsthat when he prayed for the soul of Anchisesthe custom wasstrange in Italy.
'Hunc morem Aeneaspietatis idoneusauctor
Attulit in terrasjuste Latinetuas.' The 'Biblicae'Sortes' which I have seen consulted on the altarare a parody onthe 'Sortes Virgilianae.' Our numerous altars in one church areheathen: the Jewswho are monotheistshave but one altar in achurch. But the Pagans had manybeing polytheists. In the temple ofPathian Venus were a hundred of them. 'Centum que Sabaeo thure calentarae.' Our altar's and our hundred lights around St. Peter's tomb arePagan. 'Centum aras posuit vigilemque sacraverat ignem.' We inventnothingnot even numerically. Our very Devil is the god Panhornsand hoofs and all; but blackened. For we cannot draw; we can but daubthe figures of Antiquity with a little sorry paint or soot. Our Moseshath stolen the horns of Ammon; our Wolfgang the hook of Saturn; andJanus bore the keys of heaven before St. Peter. All our really oldItalian bronzes of the Virgin and Child are Venuses and Cupids. So isthe wooden statuethat stands hard by this houseof Pope Joan andthe child she is said to have brought forth there in the middle of aprocession. Idiots! are new-born children thirteen years old? Andthat boy is not a day younger. Cupid! Cupid! Cupid! And since youaccuse me of credulityknow that to my mind that Papess is full asmythologicalborn of frothand every way unrealas the goddess whopasses for her in the next streetor as the saints you call St.Baccho and St. Quirina: or St. Oractewhich is a dunce-likecorruption of Mount Soracteor St. Amphibolusan English saintwhich is a dunce-like corruption of the cloak worn by their St.AlbanOr as the Spanish saintSt. Viar: which words on histombstonewritten thus'S. Viar' prove him no saintbut a goodold nameless heathenand 'praefectus Viarum' or overseer of roads(would he were back to earthand paganizing of our Christianroads!)or as our St. Veronica of Benascowhich Veronica is adunce-like corruption of the 'Vera icon' which this saint broughtinto the church. I wish it may not be as unreal as the donorOr asthe eleven thousand virgins of Colognewho were but a couple."

Clementinterrupted him to inquire what he meant. "I have spoken withthose have seen their bones."

"Whatof eleven thousand virgins all collected in one place and at onetime? Do but bethink theeClement. Not one of the great Easterncities of antiquity could collect eleven thousand Pagan virgins atone timefar less a puny Western city. Eleven thousand Christianvirgins in a littleweePaynim city!
'Quod cunque ostendis mihisic incredulus odi.' The simple sooth is this. The martyrs were two:the Breton princess herselffalsely called Britishand her maidOnesimillawhich is a Greek nameOnesimadiminished. This somefool did mis-pronounce undecim milleeleven thousand: loose tonguefound credulous earsand so one fool made many; eleven thousand oftheman' you will. And you charge me with credulityJerome? and bidme read the Lives of the Saints. WellI have read themand many adear old Pagan acquaintance I found there. The best fictions in thebook are Orientaland are known to have been current in Persia andArabia eight hundred years and more before the dates the Churchassigns to them as facts. As for the true Western figmentsthey lackthe Oriental plausibility. Think you I am credulous enough to believethat St. Ida joined a decapitated head to its body? that Cuthbert'scarcass directed his bearers where to goand where to stop; that acity was eaten up of rats to punish one Hatto for comparing the poorto mice; that angels have a little horn in their foreheadsand thatthis was seen and recorded at the time by St. Veronica of Benascowho never existedand hath left us this information and a miraculoushandkercher? For my partI think the holiest woman the world ere sawmust have an existence ere she can have a handkercher or an eye totake unicorns for angels. Think you I believe that a brace of lionsturned sextons and helped Anthony bury Paul of Thebes? that Patricka Scotch saintstuck a goat's beard on all the descendants of onethat offended him? that certain thieveshaving stolen the conventramand denying itSt. Pol de Leon bade the ram bear witnessandstraight the mutton bleated in the thief's belly? Would you have megive up the skilful figments of antiquity for such old wives' fablesas these? The ancients lied about animalstoo; but then they liedlogically; we unreasonably. Do but compare Ephis and his lionorbetter stillAndrocles and his lionwith Anthony and his two lions.Both the Pagan lions do what lions never did' but at the least theyact in character. A lion with a bone in his throator a thorn in hisfootcould not do better than be civil to a man. But Anthony's lionsare asses in a lion's skin. What leonine motive could they have inturning sextons? A lion's business is to make corpsesnot interthem." He addedwith a sigh"Our lies are as inferior tothe lies of the ancients as our statuesand for the same reason; wedo not study nature as they did. We are imitatoresservum pecus.Believe you 'the lives of the saints;' that Paul the Theban was thefirst hermitand Anthony the first Caenobite? WhyPythagoras was anEremiteand under ground for seven years; and his daughter was anabbess. Monks and hermits were in the East long before Mosesandneither old Greece nor Rome was ever without them. As for St. Francisand his snowballshe did but mimic Diogeneswhonakedembracedstatues on which snow had fallen. The folly without the poetry. Apeof an ape - for Diogenes was but a mimic therein of the Brahmins andIndian gymnosophists. Nathelessthe children of this Francis bidfair to pelt us out of the Church with their snowballs. Tell me nowClementwhat habit is lovelier than the vestments of our priests?Wellwe owe them all to Numa Pompiliusexcept the girdle and thestolewhich are judaical. As for the amice and the albethey retainthe very names they bore in Numa's day. The 'pelt' worn by the canonscomes from primeval Paganism. 'Tis a relic of those rude times whenthe sacrificing priest wore the skins of the beasts with the furoutward. Strip off thy black gownJeromethy girdle and cowlforthey come to us all three from the Pagan ladies. Let thy hair growlike Absolom'sJerome! for the tonsure is as Pagan as the Muses."

"Takecare what thou sayest" said Jerome sternly. "We know thevery year in which the Church did first ordain it."

"Butnot invent itJerome. The Brahmins wore it a few thousands years erethat. From them it came through the Assyrians to the priests of Isisin Egyptand afterwards of Serapis at Athens. The late Pope (thesaints be good to him) once told me the tonsure was forbidden by Godto the Levites in the Pentateuch. If sothis was because of theEgyptian priests wearing it. I trust to his holiness. I am nobiblical scholar. The Latin of thy namesake Jerome is a barrier Icannot overleap. 'Dixit ad me Dominus Dens. Dixi ad Dominum Deum.'Nothank youholy Jerome; I can stand a good dealbut I cannotstand thy Latin. Nay; give me the New Testament! 'Tis not the Greekof Xenophon; but 'tis Greek. And there be heathen sayings in it too.For St. Paul was not so spiteful against them as thou. When theheathen said a good thing that suited his matterby Jupiter he justtook itand mixed it to all eternity with the inspired text."

"ComeforthClementcome forth!" said Jeromerising; "andthouprofane monkknow that but for the powerful house that upholdstheethy accursed heresy should go no fartherfor I would have theeburned at the stake." And he strode out white with indignation.

Colonna'sreception of this threat did credit to him as an enthusiast. He ranand hallooed joyfully after Jerome. "And that is Pagan. Burningof men's bodies for the opinions of their souls is a purely Pagancustom - as Pagan as incenseholy watera hundred altars in onechurchthe tonsurethe cardinal'sor flamen's hatthe word Popethe-

HereJerome slammed the door.

Butere they could get clear of the house a jalosy was flung openandthe Paynim monk came out head and shouldersand overhung the streetshouting
"Affecti suppliciis Chrisitianigenushominum
Novas superstitionis ac maleficae'" And havingdelivered this parting blowhe felt a great triumphant joyandstrode exultant to and fro; and not attending with his usual care tothe fair way (for his room could only be threaded by little pathswriggling among the antiquities)tripped over the beak of anEgyptian storkand rolled upon a regiment of Armenian godswhich hefound tough in argument though small in stature.

"Youwill go no more to that heretical monk" said Jerome to Clement.

Clementsighed. "Shall we leave him and not try to correct him? Makeallowance for heat of discourse! he was nettledHis words are worsethan his acts. Oh 'tis a pure and charitable soul."

"Soare all arch-heretics. Satan does not tempt them like other men.Rather he makes them more moralto give their teaching weight. FraColonna cannot be corrected; his family is all-powerful in RomePraywe the saints he blasphemes to enlighten him'Twill not be the firsttime they have returned good for evilMeantime thou art forbidden toconsort with himFrom this day go alone through the city! Confessand absolve sinners! exorcise demons! comfort the sick! terrify theimpenitent! preach wherever men are gathered and occasion serves! andhold no converse with the Fra Colonna!"

Clementbowed his head

Thenthe priorat Jerome's requesthad the young friar watched. And oneday the spy returned with the news that Brother Clement had passed bythe Fra Colonna's lodgingand had stopped a little while in thestreetand then gone onbut with his hand to his eyes and slowly.

Thisreport Jerome took to the prior. The prior asked his opinionandalso Anselm'swho was then taking leave of him on his return toJuliers.

Jerome."Humph! He obeyedbut with regretaywith childish repining."

Anselm"He shed a natural tear at turning his back on a friend and abenefactorBut he obeyed."

NowAnselm was one of your gentle irresistiblesHe had at times a mildascendant even over Jerome.

"WorthyBrother Anselm" said Jerome"Clement is weak to the veryboneHe will disappoint theeHe will do nothinggreateither forthe Church or for our holy order. Yet he is an oratorand hathdrunken of the spirit of St. Dominic. Fly himthenwith a string."

Thatsame day it was announced to Clement that he was to go to Englandimmediately with Brother Jerome.

Clementfolded his hands on his breastand bowed his head in calmsubmission.

 

CHAPTERLXXIII

THEHEARTH

ACatherine is not an unmixed good in a strange house. The governingpower is strong in her. She has scarce crossed the threshold ere theutensils seem to brighten; the hearth to sweep itself; the windows tolet in more light; and the soul of an enormous cricket to animate thedwelling-place. But this cricket is a Busy Body. And that is atremendous character. It has no discrimination. It sets everything torightsand everybody. Now many things are the better for being setto rights. But everything is not. Everything is the one thing thatwon't stand being set to rights; except in that calm and coolretreatthe grave.

Catherinealtered the position of every chair and table in Margaret's house;and perhaps for the better.

Butshe must go fartherand upset the live furniture.

WhenMargaret's time was close at handCatherine treacherously invitedthe aid of Denys and Martin; and on the poorsimple-minded fellowsasking her earnestly what service they could beshe told them theymight make themselves comparatively useful by going for a littlewalk. So far so good. But she intimated further that should thepromenade extend into the middle of next week all the better. Thiswas not ingratiating. The subsequent conduct of the strong under theyoke of the weak might have propitiated a she-bear with three cubsone sickly. They generally slipped out of the house at daybreak; andstole in like thieves at night; and if by any chance they were athomethey went about like cats on a wall tipped with broken glassand wearing awe-struck visagesand a general air of subjugation anddepression.

Butall would not do. Their very presence was ill-timed; and jarred uponCatherine's nerves.

Didinstinct whispera pair of depopulators had no business in a housewith multipliers twain?

Thebreastplate is no armour against a female tongue; and Catherine raninfinite pins and needles of speech into them. In a wordwhenMargaret came down stairsshe found the kitchen swept of heroes.

Martinold and stiffhad retreated no farther than the streetand with thehonours of war: for he had carried off his baggagea stool; and saton it in the air

Margaretsaw he was out in the sun; but was not aware he was a fixture in thatluminary. She asked for Denys. "Goodkind Denys; he will beright pleased to see me about again."

Catherinewiping a bowl with now superfluous vigourtold her Denys was gone tohis friends in Burgundy. "And high timeHasn't been anigh themthis three yearsby all accounts."

"Whatgone without bidding me farewell?" said Margaretuplifting twotender eyes like full-blown violets.

Catherinereddened. For this new view of the matter set her conscience prickingher.

Butshe gave a little toss and said"Ohyou were asleep at thetime: and I would not have you wakened."

"PoorDenys" said Margaretand the dew gathered visibly on the openviolets.

Catherinesaw out of the corner of her eyeand without taking a bit of opennoticeslipped off and lavished hospitality and tenderness on thesurviving depopulator.

Itwas sudden: and Martin old and stiff in more ways than one -

"Nothank youdame. I have got used to out o' doors. And I love notchanging and changing. I meddle wi' nobody here; and nobody meddleswi' me."

"Ohyou nastycross old wretch!" screamed Catherinepassing in amoment from treacle to sharpest vinegar. And she flounced back intothe house.

Oncalm reflection she had a little cry. Then she half reconciledherself to her conduct by vowing to be so kindMargaret should nevermiss her plagues of soldiers. But feeling still a little uneasyshedispersed all regrets by a process at once simple and sovereign.

Shetook and washed the child

Fromhead to foot she washed him in tepid water; and heroesand theirwrongsbecame as dust in an ocean - of soap and water

Whilethis celestial ceremony proceededMargaret could not keep quiet. Shehovered round the fortunate performer. She must have an apparent handin itif not a real. She put her finger into the water - to pave theway for her boyI suppose; for she could not have deceived herselfso far as to think Catherine would allow her to settle thetemperature. During the ablution she kneeled down opposite the littleGerardand prattled to him with amazing fluency; taking carehowevernot to articulate like grown-up people; forhow could acherub understand their ridiculous pronunciation?

"Iwish you could wash out THAT" said shefixing her eyes on thelittle boy's hand.

"What?"

"Whathave you not noticed? on his little finger."

Grannylookedand there was a little brown mole

"Ehbut this is wonderful!" she cried. "Naturemy lassy'arestrong; and meddlesome to boot. Hast noticed such a mark on some oneelse? Tell the truthgirl!"

"Whaton him? Naymothernot I."

"Wellthen he has; and on the very spot. And you never noticed that much.Butdear heartI forgot; you han't known him from child to man as IhaveI have had him hundreds o' times on my kneesthe same as thisand washed him from top to toe in luke-warm water." And sheswelled with conscious superiority; and Margaret looked meekly up toher as a woman beyond competition.

Catherinelooked down from her dizzy height and moralized. She differed fromother busy-bodies in thisthat she now and then reflected: notdeeply; or of course I should take care not to print it.

"Itis strange" said she"how things come round and aboutLife is but a whirligig. Leastwayswe poor womenour lives are allcut upon one pattern. Wasn't I for washing out my Gerard's mole inhis young days? 'Ohfie! here's a foul blot' quo' I; and scrubbedaway at it I did till I made the poor wight cry; so then I thought'twas time to give over. And now says you to me'Mother' says you'do try and wash you out o' my Gerard's finger' says you. Thinkon't!"

"Washit out?" cried Margaret; "I wouldn't for all the worldWhyit is the sweetest bit in his little darling body. I'll kiss itmorn and night till he that owned it first comes back to us threeOhbless youmy jewel of gold and silverfor being marked likeyour own daddyto comfort me."

Andshe kissed little Gerard's little mole; but she could not stop there;she presently had him sprawling on her lapand kissed his back allover again and againand seemed to worry him as wolf a lamb;Catherine looking on and smiling. She had seen a good many of thesesavage onslaughts in her day.

Andthis little sketch indicates the tenor of Margaret's life for severalmonthsOne or two small things occurred to her during that timewhich must be told; but I reserve themsince one string will servefor many glass beads. But while her boy's father was passing throughthose fearful tempests of the soulending in the dead monastic calmher life might fairly be summed in one great blissful word -Maternity.

Youwho know what lies in that wordenlarge my little sketchand seethe young mother nursing and washingand dressing and undressingand crowing and gambolling with her first-born; then swifter thanlightning dart your eye into Italyand see the cold cloister; andthe monks passing like ghostseyes downhands meekly crossed overbosoms dead to earthly feelings.

Oneof these cowled ghosts is hewhose returnfull of loveand youthand joythat radiant young mother awaits.

Inthe valley of Grindelwald the traveller has on one side theperpendicular Alpsall rockiceand everlasting snowtoweringabove the cloudsand piercing to the sky; on his other hand littleevery-day slopesbut green as emeraldsand studded with cows andpretty cotsand life; whereas those lofty neighbours stand leaflesslifelessinhumansublime. Elsewhere sweet commonplaces of natureare apt to pass unnoticed; butfronting the grim Alpsthey sootheand even gently strikethe mind by contrast with their tremendousopposites. Suchin their wayare the two halves of this storyrightly looked at; on the Italian side rugged adventurestrongpassionblasphemyvicepenitencepure iceholy snowsoaringdirect at heaven. On the Dutch sideall on a humble scale andwomanishbut ever green. And as a pathway parts the ice towers ofGrindelwaldaspiring to the skyfrom its little sunny braessohere' is but a page between
"the Cloister and the Hearth."

 

CHAPTERLXXIV

THECLOISTER

THEnew pope favoured the Dominican order. The convent received a messagefrom the Vaticanrequiring a capable friar to teach at theUniversity of Basle. Now Clement was the very monk for this: wellversed in languagesand in his worldly days had attended thelectures of Guarini the younger. His visit to England was thereforepostponed though not resigned; and meantime he was sent to Basle; butnot being wanted there for three monthshe was to preach on theroad.

Hepassed out of the northern gate with his eyes loweredand the wholeman wrapped in pious contemplation.

Ohif we could paint a mind and its storywhat a walking fresco wasthis barefooted friar!

Hopefulhappy lovebereavementdespairimpietyvicesuicideremorsereligious despondencypenitencedeath to the worldresignation.

Andall in twelve short months.

Andnow the traveller was on foot again. But all was changed: no perilousadventures now. The very thieves and robbers bowed to the groundbefore himand instead of robbing himforced stolen money on himand begged his prayers.

Thisjourney therefore furnished few picturesque incidents. I havehoweversome readers to think ofwho care little for melodramaandexpect a quiet peep at what passes inside a manTo such studentsthings undramatic are often vocaldenoting the progress of a mind.

Thefirst Sunday of Clement's journey was marked by this. He prayed forthe soul of Margaret. He had never done so before. Not that hereternal welfare was not dearer to him than anything on earth. It washis humility. The terrible impieties that burst from him on the newsof her death horrified my well-disposed readers; but not as onreflection they horrified him who had uttered them. For a long timeduring his novitiate he was oppressed with religious despair. Hethought he must have committed that sin against the Holy Spirit whichdooms the soul for everBy degrees that dark cloud cleared awayAnselmo juvante; but deep self-abasement remained. He felt his ownsalvation insecureand moreover thought it would be mocking Heavenshould hethe deeply stainedpray for a soul so innocentcomparativelyas Margaret's. So he used to coax good Anselm andanother kindly monk to pray for her. They did not refusenor do itby halves. In general the good old monks (and there were goodbadand indifferent in every convent) had a pure and tender affection fortheir younger brethrenwhichin truthwas not of this world.

Clementthenhaving preached on Sunday morning in a small Italian townandbeing mightily carried onwardwas greatly encouraged; and that day abalmy sense of God's forgiveness and love descended on him. And heprayed for the welfare of Margaret's soul. And from that hour thisbecame his daily habitand the one purified tiethat by memoryconnected his heart with earth.

Forhis family were to him as if they had never been.

TheChurch would not share with earth. Nor could even the Church cure thegreat love without annihilating the smaller ones.

Duringmost of this journey Clement rarely felt any spring of life withinhimbut when he was in the pulpit. The other exceptions werewhenhe happened to relieve some fellow-creature.

Ayoung man was tarantula bittenor perhapslike many morefanciedit. Fancy or realityhe had been for two days without sleepand inmost extraordinary convulsionsleapingtwistingand beating thewalls. The village musicians had only excited him worse with theirmusic. Exhaustion and death followed the diseasewhen it gained sucha head. Clement passed by and learned what was the matter. He sentfor a psalteryand tried the patient with soothing melodies; but ifthe other tunes maddened himClement's seemed to crush him. Hegroaned and moaned under themand grovelled on the floor. At lastthe friar observed that at intervals his lips kept going. He appliedhis earand found the patient was whispering a tune; and a verysingular onethat had no existence. He learned this tune and playedit. The patient's face brightened amazingly. He marched about theroom on the light fantastic toe enjoying it; and when Clement'sfingers ached nearly off with playing ithe had the satisfaction ofseeing the young man sink complacently to sleep to this lullabythestrange creation of his own mind; for it seems he was no musicianand never composed a tune before or after. This sleep saved his life.And Clementafter teaching the tune to anotherin case it should bewanted againwent forward with his heart a little warmer. On anotheroccasion he found a mob haling a decently dressed man alongwhostruggled and vociferatedbut in a strange language. This person hadwalked into their town erect and sprightlywaving a mulberry branchover his head. Thereupon the natives first gazed stupidlynotbelieving their eyesthen pounced on him and dragged him before thepodestaClement went with them; but on the way drew quietly near theprisoner and spoke to him in Italian; no answer. In French' German;Dutch; no assets. Then the man tried Clement in tolerable Latinbutwith a sharpish accent. He said he was an Englishmanand oppressedwith the heat of Italyhad taken a bough off the nearest treetosave his head. "In my country anybody is welcome to what growson the highway. Confound the fools; I am ready to pay for it. Buthere is all Italy up in arms about a twig and a handful of leaves."

Thepig-headed podesta would have sent the dogged islander to prison; butClement mediatedand with some difficulty made the prisonercomprehend that silkwormsand by consequence mulberry leavesweresacredbeing under the wing of the Sovereignand his source ofincome; and urged on the podesta that ignorance of his mulberry lawswas natural in a distant countrywhere the very tree perhaps wasunknownThe opinionative islander turned the still vibrating scaleby pulling' out a long purse and repeating his original theorythatthe whole question was mercantile. "Quid damni?" said he"Dic; et cito solvam." The podesta snuffed the gold: finedhim a ducat for the duke; about the value of the whole tree; andpouched the coin.

TheEnglishman shook off his ire the moment he was liberatedand laughedheartily at the whole thing; but was very grateful to Clement.

"Youare too good for this hole of a countryfather" said he"Cometo England! That is the only place in the worldI was an uneasy foolto leave itand wander among mulberries and their idiots. I am aKentish squireand educated at Cambridge University. My name it isRolfemy place BetshangerThe man and the house are both at yourservice. Come over and stay till domesday. We sit down forty todinner every day at Betshanger. One more or one less at the boardwill not be seen. You shall end your days with me and my heirs if youwillCome now! What an Englishman says he means." And he gavehim a great hearty grip of the hand to confirm it

"Iwill visit thee some daymy son" said Clement; "but notto weary thy hospitality."

TheEnglishman then begged Clement to shrive him. "I know not whatwill become of my soul" said he"I live like a heathensince I left England."

Clementconsented gladlyand soon the islander was on his knees to him bythe roadsideconfessing the last month's sins.

Findinghim so pious a son of the ChurchClement let him know he was reallycoming to England. He then asked him whether it was true that countrywas overrun with Lollards and Wickliffites.

Theother coloured up a little. "There be black sheep in everyland" said he. Then after some reflection he said gravely"Holy fatherhear the truth about these heretics. None arebetter disposed towards Holy Church than we English. But we areourselvesand by ourselves. We love our own waysand above allourown tongue. The Norman could conquer our bill-hooksbut not ourtongues; and hard they tried it for many a long year by law andproclamation. Our good foreign priests utter God to plain Englishfolk in Latinor in some French or Italian lingolike the bleatingof a sheep. Then come the fox Wickliff and his crewand read him outof his own book in plain Englishthat all men's hearts warm to. Whocan withstand this? God forgive meI believe the English would turndeaf ears to StPeter himselfspoke he not to them in the tonguetheir mothers sowed in their ears and their hearts along withmothers' kisses." He added hastily"I say not this formyself; I am Cambridge bred; and good words come not amiss to me inLatin; but for the people in general. Clavis ad corda Anglorum estlingua materna."

"Myson" said Clement"blessed be the hour I met thee; forthy words are sober and wise. But alas! how shall I learn yourEnglish tongue? No book have I."

"Iwould give you my book of hoursfather. 'Tis in English and Latincheek by jowl. But thenwhat would become of my poor soulwantingmy 'hours' in a strange land? Stayyou are a holy manand I am anhonest one; let us make a bargain; you to pray for me every day fortwo monthsand I to give you my book of hours. Here it is. What sayyou to that?" And his eyes sparkledand he was all on fire withmercantility.

Clementsmiled gently at this trait; and quietly detached a MS. from hisgirdleand showed him that it was in Latin and Italian.

"Seemy son" said he"Heaven hath foreseen our several needsand given us the means to satisfy them: let us change books; andmydear sonI will give thee my poor prayers and welcomenot sell themthee. I love not religious bargains."

Theislander was delighted. "So shall I learn the Italian tonguewithout risk to my eternal wealNear is my pursebut nearer is mysoul."

Heforced money on Clement. In vain the friar told him it was contraryto his vow to carry more of that than was barely necessary.

"Layit out for the good of the Church and of my soul" said theislander. "I ask you not to keep itbut take it you must andshall." And he grasped Clement's hand warmly again; and Clementkissed him on the browand blessed himand they went each his way.

Abouta mile from where they partedClement found two tired wayfarerslying in the deep shade of a great chestnut-treeone of a thickgrove the road skirted. Near the men was a little cartand in it aprinting-pressrude and clumsy as a vine-pressA jaded mule washarnessed to the cart.

Andso Clement stood face to face with his old enemy.

Andas he eyed itand the honestblue-eyed faces of the weariedcraftsmenhe looked back as on a dream at the bitterness he had oncefelt towards this machine. He looked kindly down on themand saidsoftly -

"Sweynheim!"

Themen started to their feet.

"Pannartz.!"

Theyscuttled into the woodand were seen no more.

Clementwas amazedand stood puzzling himself.

Presentlya face peeped from behind a tree.

Clementaddressed it"What fear ye?"

Aquavering voice replied -

"Sayratherby what magic youa strangercan call us by our names! Inever clapt eyes on you till now."

"Osuperstition! I know yeas all good workmen are known - by yourworks. Come hither and I will tell ye."

Theyadvanced gingerly from different sides; each regulating his advanceby the other's.

"Mychildren" said Clement"I saw a Lactantius in Romeprinted by Sweynheim and Pannartzdisciples of Fust."

"D'yehear thatPannartz? our work has gotten to Rome already."

"Byyour blue eyes and flaxen hair I wist ye were Germans; and theprinting-press spoke for itself. Who then should ye be but Fust'sdisciplesPannartz and Sweynheim?"

Thehonest Germans were now astonished that they had suspected magic inso simple a matter

"Thegood father hath his wits about himthat is all" saidPannartz

"Ay"said Sweynheim"and with those wits would he could tell us howto get this tired beast to the next town."

"Yea"said Sweynheim"and where to find money to pay for his meat andours when we get there."

"Iwill try" said Clement. "Free the mule of the cartand ofall harness but the bare halter."

Thiswas doneand the animal immediately lay down and rolled on his backin the dust like a kitten. Whilst he was thus employedClementassured them he would rise up a new mule.

"HisCreator hath taught him this art to refresh himselfwhich the noblerhorse knoweth not. Nowwith regard to moneyknow that a worthyEnglishman hath entrusted me with a certain sum to bestow in charity.To whom can I better give a stranger's money than to strangers? Takeitthenand be kind to some Englishman or other stranger in hisneed; and may all nations learn to love one another one day."

Thetears stood in the honest workmen's eyes. They took the money withheartfelt thanks.

"Itis your nation we are bound to thank and blessgood fatherif webut knew it."

"Mynation is the Church."

Clementwas then for bidding them farewellbut the honest fellows imploredhim to wait a little; they had no silver nor goldbut they hadsomething they could give their benefactorThey took the press outof the cartand while Clement fed the mulethey hustled aboutnowon the white hot roadnow in the deep cool shadenow half in andhalf outand presently printed a quarto sheet of eight pageswhichwas already set up. They had not type enough to print two sheets at atime. Whenafter the slower preliminariesthe printed sheet waspulled all in a momentClement was amazed in turn.

"Whatare all these words really fast upon the paper?" said he. "Isit verily certain they will not go as swiftly as they came? And youtook me for a magician! 'Tis 'Augustine de civitate Dei.' My sonsyou carry here the very wings of knowledge. Ohnever abuse thisgreat craft! Print no ill books! They would fly abroad countless aslocustsand lay waste men's souls.

Theworkmen said they would sooner put their hands under the screw thanso abuse their goodly craft.

Andso they parted.

Thereis nothing but meeting and parting in this world.

Ata town in Tuscany the holy friar had a sudden and strange recontrewith the past. He fell in with one of those motley assemblages ofpatricians and plebeianspiety and profligacy"a company ofpilgrims;" a subject too well painted by others for me to go anddaub

Theywere in an immense barn belonging to the innClementdusty andweariedand no lover of idle gossipsat in a corner studying theEnglishman's hoursand making them out as much by his own Dutch asby the Latin version.

Presentlya servant brought a bucket half full of waterand put it down at hisfeet. A female servant followed with two towels. And then a womancame forwardand crossing herselfkneeled down without a word atthe bucket-sideremoved her sleeves entirelyand motioned to him toput his feet into the water. It was some lady of rank doing penance.She wore a mask scarce an inch broadbut effectual. Moreovershehandled the friar's feet more delicately than those do who are bornto such offices.

Thesepenances were not uncommon; and Clementthough he had little faithin this form of contritionreceived the services of the incognita asa matter of course. But presently she sighed deeplyand with herheartfelt sigh and her head bent low over her menial officesheseemed so bowed with penitencethat he pitied herand said calmlybut gently"Can I aught for your soul's wealmy daughter?"

Sheshook her head with a faint sob. "Noughtholy fathernought;only to hear the sin of her who is most unworthy to touch thy holyfeet. 'Tis part of my penance to tell sinless men how vile I am."

"Speakmy daughter."

"Father"said the ladybending lower and lower"these hands of minelook whitebut they are stained with blood - the blood of the man Iloved. Alas! you withdraw your foot. Ah me! What shall I do? All holythings shrink from me."

"Culpamea! culpa mea!" said Clement eagerly. "My daughterit wasan unworthy movement of earthly weaknessfor which I shall dopenance. Judge not the Church by her feebler servantsNot her footbut her bosomis offered to theerepenting truly. Take couragethenand purge thy conscience of its load"

Onthis the ladyin a trembling whisperand hurriedlyand cringing alittleas if she feared the Church would strike her bodily for whatshe had donemade this confession.

"Hewas a strangerand base-bornbut beautiful as Springand wisebeyond his years. I loved himI had not the prudence to conceal mylove. Nobles courted me. I ne'er thought one of humble birth couldreject me. I showed him my heart ohshame of my sex! He drew back;yet he admired me; but innocentlyHe loved another; and he wasconstant. I resorted to a woman's wilesThey availed not. I borrowedthe wickedness of menand threatened his lifeand to tell his truelover he died false to herAh! you shrink your foot trembles. Am Inot a monster? Then he wept and prayed to me for mercy; then my goodangel helped me; I bade him leave Rome. GerardGerardwhy did younot obey me? I thought he was gone. But two months after this I methimNever shall I forget it. I was descending the Tiber in mygalleywhen he came up it with a gay companyand at his side awoman beautiful as an angelbut bold and bad. That woman claimed mealoud for her rival. Traitor and hypocritehe had exposed me to herand to all the loose tongues in Rome. In terror and revenge I hired-abravo. When he was gone on his bloody errandI wavered too late. Thedagger I had hired struckHe never came back to his lodgings. He wasdead. Alas! perhaps he was not so much to blame: none have ever casthis name in my teeth. His poor body is not found: or I should kissits wounds; and slay myself upon it. All around his very name seemssilent as the graveto which this murderous hand hath sent him."(Clement's eye was drawn by her movement. He recognized her shapelyarmand soft white hand.) "And oh! he was so young to die. Apoor thoughtless boythat had fallen a victim to that bad woman'sartsand she had made him tell her everything. Monster of crueltywhat penance can avail me? Ohholy fatherwhat shall I do?"

Clement'slips moved in prayerbut he was silent. He could not see his dutyclear.

Thenshe took his feet and began to dry them. She rested his foot upon hersoft armand pressed it with the towel so gently she seemedincapable of hurting a fly. Yet her lips had just told another storyand a true one.

WhileClement was still praying for wisdoma tear fell upon his foot. Itdecided him. "My daughter" said he"I myself havebeen a great sinner"

"Youfather?"

"I;quite as great a sinner as thou; though not in the same way. Thedevil has gins and snaresas well as traps. But penitence softenedmy impious heartand then gratitude remoulded it. Thereforeseeingyou penitentI hope you can be grateful to Himwho has been moremerciful to you than you have to your fellow-creature. DaughtertheChurch sends you comfort."

"Comfortto me? ah! never! unless it can raise my victim from the dead."

"Takethis crucifix in thy handfix thine eyes on itand listen to me"was all the reply.

"Yesfather; but let me thoroughly dry your feet first; 'tis ill sittingin wet feet; and you are the holiest man of all whose feet I havewashed. I know it by your voice."

"WomanI am not. As for my feetthey can wait their turn. Obey thou me.

"Yesfather" said the lady humbly. But with a woman's evasivepertinacity she wreathed one towel swiftly round the foot she wasdryingand placed his other foot on the dry napkin; then obeyed hiscommand.

Andas she bowed over the crucifixthe lowsolemn tones of the friarfell upon her earand his words soon made her whole body quiver withvarious emotionin quick succession.

"Mydaughterhe you murdered - in intent - was one Gerarda Hollander.He loved a creatureas men should love none but their Redeemer andHis Church. Heaven chastised him. A letter came to Rome. She wasdead."

"PoorGerard! Poor Margaret!" moaned the penitent.

Clement'svoice faltered at this a moment. But soonby a strong effortherecovered all his calmness.

"Hisfeeble nature yieldedbody and soulto the blowHe was strickendown with fever. He revived only to rebel against Heaven. He said'There is no God.'"

"Poorpoor Gerard!"

"PoorGerard? thou feeblefoolish woman! Naywickedimpious Gerard. Heplunged into viceand soiled his eternal jewel: those you met himwith were his daily companions; but knowrash creaturethat theseeming woman you took to be his leman was but a boydressed inwoman's habits to flout the othersa fair boy called Andrea. Whatthat Andrea said to thee I know not; but be sure neither henor anylaymanknows thy follyThis Gerardrebel against Heavenwas notraitor to theeunworthy."

Thelady moaned like one in bodily agonyand the crucifix began totremble in her trembling hands.

Courage!"said Clement. "Comfort is at hand."

"Fromcrime he fell into despairand bent on destroying his soulhe stoodone night by Tiberresolved on suicide. He saw one watching him. Itwas a bravo."

"Holysaints!"

"Hebegged the bravo to despatch him; he offered him all his moneytoslay him body and soul. The bravo would not. Then this desperatesinnernot softened even by that refusalflung himself into Tiber."

"Ah!"

"Andthe assassin saved his life. Thou hadst chosen for the task Lodovicohusband of Teresawhom this Gerard had saved at seaher and herinfant child."

"Helives! he lives! he lives! I am faint."

Thefriar took the crucifix from her handsfearing it might fallAshower of tears relieved her. The friar gave her time; then continuedcalmly"Ayhe lives; thanks to thee and thy wickednessguidedto his eternal good by an almighty and all-merciful hand. Thou arthis greatest earthly benefactor."

"Whereis he? where? where?"

"Whatis that to thee?"

"Onlyto see him alive. To beg him on my knees forgive me. I swear to you Iwill never presume again to- How could I? He knows all. Ohshame!Fatherdoes he know?"

"All."

"Thennever will I meet his eye; I should sink into the earth. But I wouldrepair my crime. I would watch his life unseen. He shall rise in theworldwhence I so nearly thrust himpoor soul; the Caesaremyfamilyare all-powerful in Rome; and I am near their head."

"Mydaughter" said Clement coldly"he you call Gerard needsnothing man can do for him. Saved by a miracle from double deathhehas left the worldand taken refuge from sin and folly in the bosomof the Church."

"Apriest?"

"Apriestand a friar."

"Afriar? Then you are not his confessor? Yet you know all. That gentlevoice!"

Sheraised her head slowlyand peered at him through her mask.

Thenext moment she uttered a faint shriekand lay with her brow uponhis bare feet

 

CHAPTERLXXV

Clementsighed. He began to doubt whether he had taken the wisest course witha creature so passionate.

Butyoung as he washe had already learned many lessons ofecclesiastical wisdom. For one thing he had been taught to pauseie.in certain difficultiesneither to do nor to say anythinguntil the matter should clear itself a little.

Hetherefore held his peace and prayed for wisdom

Allhe did was gently to withdraw his foot.

Buthis penitent flung her arms round it with a piteous cryand held itconvulsivelyand wept over it.

Andnow the agony of shameas well as penitenceshe was inshoweditself by the bright red that crept over her very throatas she layquivering at his feet.

"Mydaughter" said Clement gently"take courage. Tormentthyself no more about this Gerardwho is not. As for meI amBrother Clementwhom Heaven hath sent to thee this day to comforttheeand help thee save thy soul. Thou last made me thy confessorIclaimthenthine obedience."

"Ohyes" sobbed the penitent.

"Leavethis pilgrimageand instant return to Rome. Penitence abroad islittle worth. There where we live lie the temptations we must defeator perish; not fly in search of others more showybut less lethal.Easy to wash the feet of strangersmasked ourselvesHard to bemerely meek and charitable with those about us"

"I'llnevernever lay finger on her again."

"NayI speak not of servants onlybut of dependentskinsmenfriends.This be thy penance; the last thing at nightand the first thingafter matinscall to mind thy sinand God His goodness; and so behumble and gentle to the faults of those around thee. The world itcourts the rich; but seek thou the poor: not beggars; these for themost are neither honest nor truly poor. But rather find out those whoblush to seek theeyet need thee sore. Giving to them shalt lend toHeaven. Marry a good son of the Church."

"Me?I will never marry."

"Thouwilt marry within the year. I do entreat and command thee to marryone that feareth God. For thou art very clay. Mated ill thou shalt benaught. But wedding a worthy husband thou mayestDei gratialive apious princess; ayand die a saint"

"I?"

"Thou"

Hethen desired her to rise and go about the good work he had set her

Sherose to her kneesand removing her maskcast an eloquent look uponhimthen lowered her eyes meekly.

"Iwill obey you as I would an angel. How happy I amyet unhappy; forohmy heart tells me I shall never look on you again. I will not gotill I have dried your feet."

"Itneeds not. I have excused thee this bootless penance."

"'Tisno penance to me. Ah! you do not forgive meif you will not let medry your poor feet."

"Sobe it then" said Clement resignedly; and thought to himself"Levius quid foemina."

Butthese weak creaturesthat gravitate towards the smallas heavenlybodies towards the greathave yet their own flashes of angelicintelligence.

Whenthe princess had dried the friar's feetshe looked at him with tearsin her beautiful eyesand murmured with singular tenderness andgoodness -

"Iwill have masses said for her soul. May I?" she added timidly.

Thisbrought a faint blush into the monk's cheekand moistened his coldblue eye. It came so suddenly from one he was just rating so low.

"Itis a gracious thought" he said. "Do as thou wilt: oftensuch acts fall back on the doer like blessed dew. I am thy confessornot hers; thine is the soul I must now do my all to saveor woe beto my own. My daughtermy dear daughterI see good and ill angelsfighting for thy soul this dayaythis moment; ohfight thou onthine own side. Dost thou remember all I bade thee?"

"Remember!"said the princess. "Sweet sainteach syllable of thine isgraved in my heart."

"Butone word morethen. Pray much to Christand little to his saints."

"Iwill."

"Andthat is the best word I have light to say to thee. So part we on it.Thou to the place becomes thee bestthy father's houseI to my holymother's work."

"Adieu"faltered the princess. "Adieuthou that I have loved too wellhated too illknown and revered too late; forgiving angeladieu -for ever."

Themonk caught her wordsthough but faltered in a sigh.

"Forever?" he cried aloudwith sudden ardour. "Christians live'for ever' and love 'for ever' but they never part 'for ever. Theypartas part the earth and sunto meet more brightly in a littlewhile. You and I part here for life. And what is our life? One linein the great story of the Churchwhose son and daughter we are; onehandful in the sand of timeone drop in the ocean of 'For ever.'Adieu - for the little moment called 'a life!' We part in troubleweshall meet in peace: we part creatures of claywe shall meetimmortal spirits: we part in a world of sin and sorrowwe shall meetwhere all is purity and love divine; where no ill passions arebutChrist isand His saints around Him clad in white. Therein theturning of an hour-glassin the breaking of a bubblein the passingof a cloudsheand thouand Ishall meet again; and sit at thefeet of angels and archangelsapostles and saintsand beam likethem with joy unspeakablein the light of the shadow of God upon HisthroneFOR EVER - AND EVER - AND EVER."

Andso they parted. The monk erecthis eyes turned heavenwards andglowing with the sacred fire of zeal; the princess slowly retiringand turning more than once to cast a lingering glance of awe andtender regret on that inspired figure.

Shewent home subduedand purified. Clementin due coursereachedBasleand entered on his dutiesteaching in the Universityandpreaching in the town and neighbourhood. He led a life that can becomprised in two words; deep studyand mortification. My reader hasalready a peep into his soul. At Basle he advanced in holy zeal andknowledge.

Thebrethren of his order began to see in him a descendant of the saintsand martyrs.

 

CHAPTERLXXVI

THEHEARTH

Whenlittle Gerard was nearly three months olda messenger came hot fromTergou for Catherine

"Nowjust you go back" said she"and tell them I can't comeand I won't: they have got Kate" So he departedand Catherinecontinued her sentence; "therechildI must go: they are allat sixes and sevens: this is the third time of asking; and to-morrowmy man would come himself and take me home by the earwith a fleain't." She then recapitulated her experiences of infantsandinstructed Margaret what to do in each coming emergencyand pressedmoney upon herMargaret declined it with thanksCatherine insistedand turned angry. Margaret made excuses all so reasonable thatCatherine rejected them with calm contempt; to her mind they lackedfemininity

"Comeout with your heart" said she "and you and me parting; andmayhap shall never see one another's face again"

"Oh!mothersay not so."

"AlackgirlI have seen it so often; 'twill come into my mind now at eachpartingWhen I was your ageI never had such a thoughtNaywewere all to live for ever then: so out wi' it"

"Wellthenmother - I would rather not have told you - your Cornelis mustsay to me'So you are come to share with usehmistress?' thosewere his wordsI told him I would be very sorry.

"Beshrewhis ill tongue! What signifies it? He will never know

"Mostlikely he would sooner or laterBut whether or noI will take nogrudged bounty from any family; unless I saw my child starvingand -Heaven only knows what I might doNaymothergive me but thy love- I do prize that above silverand they grudge me not thatby all Ican find - for not a stiver of money will I take out of your house"

"Youare a foolish lassWhywere it meI'd take it just to spite him"

"Noyou would notYou and I are apples off one tree"

Catherineyielded with a good grace; and when the actual parting cameembracesand tears burst forth on both sides

Whenshe was gone the child cried a good deal; and all attempts to pacifyhim failingMargaret suspected a pinand searching between hisclothes and his skinfound a gold angel incommoding his backbone

"TherenowGerard" said she to the babe; "I thought granny gavein rather sudden."

Shetook the coin and wrapped it in a piece of linenand laid it at thebottom of her boxbidding the infant observe she could be at timesas resolute as granny herself.

Catherinetold Eli of Margaret's foolish prideand how she had baffled it. Elisaid Margaret was rightand she was wrong.

Catherinetossed her head. Eli pondered.

Margaretwas not without domestic anxieties. She had still two men to feedand could not work so hard as she had done. She had enough to do tokeep the houseand the childand cook for them all. But she had alittle money laid byand she used to tell her child his father wouldbe home to help them before it was spent. And with these brighthopesand that treasury of blissher boyshe spent some happymonths.

Timewore on; and no Gerard came; and stranger stillno news of him.

Thenher mind was disquietedand contrary to her naturewhich waspracticalshe was often lost in sad reverie; and sighed in silence.And while her heart was troubledher money was melting. And so itwasthat one day she found the cupboard emptyand looked in herdependents' faces; and at the sight of themher bosom was all pity;and she appealed to the baby whether she could let grandfather andpoor old Martin want a meal; and went and took out Catherine's angel.As she unfolded the linen a tear of gentle mortification fell on it.She sent Martin out to change it. While he was gone a Frenchman camewith one of the dealers in illuminated workwho had offered her sopoor a price. He told her he was employed by his sovereign to collectmasterpieces for her book of hours. Then she showed him the two bestthings she had; and he was charmed with one of themviz.theflowers and raspberries and creeping thingswhich Margaret Van Eyckhad shaded. He offered her an unheard-of price. "Nayflout notmy needgood stranger" said she; "three mouths there bein this houseand none to fill them but me."

Curiousarithmetic! Left out No. 1

"I'dout thee notfair mistress. My princess charged me strictly'Seekthe best craftsmen'; but I will no hard bargains; make them contentwith meand me with them.'"

Thenext minute Margaret was on her knees kissing little Gerard in thecradleand showering four gold pieces on him again and againandrelating the whole occurrence to him in very broken Dutch

"Andohwhat a good princess: wasn't she? We will pray for herwon't wemy lambkin; when we are old enough?"

Martincame in furious. "They will not change it. I trow they think Istole it."

"Iam beholden to thee" said Margaret hastilyand almost snatchedit from Martinand wrapped it up againand restored it to itshiding-place.

Erethese unexpected funds were spentshe got to her ironing andstarching again. In the midst of which Martin sickened; and diedafter an illness of nine days.

Nearlyall her money went to bury him decently.

Hewas gone; and there was an empty chair by her firesideFor he hadpreferred the hearth to the sun as soon as the Busy Body was gone.

Margaretwould not allow anybody to sit in this chair now. Yet whenever shelet her eye dwell too long on it vacantit was sure to cost her atear.

Andnow there was nobody to carry her linen homeTo do it herself shemust leave little Gerard in charge of a neighbourBut she dared nottrust such a treasure to mortal; and besides she could not bear himout of her sight for hours and hours. So she set inquiries on footfor a boy to carry her basket on Saturday and Monday.

Aplumpfresh-coloured youthcalled Luke Petersonwho lookedfifteenbut was eighteencame inand blushingand twiddling hisbonnetasked her if a man would not serve her turn as well as a boy.

Beforehe spoke she was saying to herself"This boy will just do."

Butshe took the cueand said"Nay; but a man will maybe seek morethan I can well pay.

"NotI" said Luke warmly. "WhyMistress MargaretI am yourneighbourand I do very well at the coopering. I can carry yourbasket for you before or after my day's workand welcomeYou haveno need to pay me anything. 'Tisn't as if we were strangersyeknow."

"WhyMaster LukeI know your facefor that matter; but I cannot call tomind that ever a word passed between us."

"Ohyesyou didMistress Margaret. Whathave you forgotten? One dayyou were trying to carry your baby and eke your pitcher full o'water; and quo' I'Give me the baby to carry.' 'Naysays you'I'llgive you the pitcherand keep the bairn myself;' and I carried thepitcher homeand you took it from me at this doorand you said tome'I am muckle obliged to youyoung man' with such a sweet voice;not like the folk in this street speak to a body."

"Ido mind nowMaster Luke; and methinks it was the least I could say."

"WellMistress Margaretif you will say as much every time I carry yourbasketI care not how often I bear itnor how far."

"Naynay" said Margaretcolouring faintly. "I would not putupon good natureYou are youngMaster Lukeand kindly. Say I giveyou your supper on Saturday nightwhen you bring the linen homeandyour dawn-mete o' Monday; would that make us anyways even?"

"Asyou please; only say not I sought a couple o' dietsIfor such atrifle as yon."

Withchubby-faced Luke's timely assistanceand the health and strengthwhich Heaven gave this poor young womanto balance her many illsthe house went pretty smoothly awhile. But the heart became more andmore troubled by Gerard's longand now most mysterious silence.

Andthen that mental torturerSuspensebegan to tear her heavy heartwith his hot pincerstill she cried often and vehemently"Ohthat I could know the worst."

Whilstshe was in this stateone day she heard a heavy step mount thestair. She started and trembled"That is no step that I know.Ill tidings?"

Thedoor openedand an unexpected visitorElicame inlooking graveand kind

Margareteyed him in silenceand with increasing agitation

"Girl."said he"the skipper is come back."

"Oneword" gasped Margaret; "is he alive?"

"SurelyI hope so. No one has seen him dead."

"Thenthey must have seen him alive."

"Nogirl; neither dead nor alive hath he been seen this many months inRome. My daughter Kate thinks he is gone to some other city. She bademe tell you her thought."

"Aylike enough" said Margaret gloomily; "like enough. My poorbabe!"

Theold man in a faintish voice asked her for a morsel to eat: he hadcome fasting.

Thepoor thing pitied him with the surface of her agitated mindandcooked a meal for himtremblingand scarce knowing what she wasabout.

Erehe went he laid his hand upon her headand said"Be he aliveor be he deadI look on thee as my daughter. Can I do nought forthee this day? bethink thee now

"Ayold man. Pray for him; and for me!"

Elisighedand went sadly and heavily down the stairs.

Shelistened half stupidly to his retiring footsteps till they ceased.Then she sank moaning down by the cradleand drew little Gerardtight to her bosom. "Ohmy poor fatherless boy; my fatherlessboy!"

 

CHAPTERLXXVII

Notlong after thisas the little family at Tergou sat at dinnerLukePeterson burst in on themcovered with dust. "Good peopleMistress Catherine is wanted instantly at Rotterdam."

"Myname is Catherineyoung man. Kateit will be Margaret."

"Aydameshe said to me'Good Lukehie thee to Tergouand ask for Elithe hosierand pray his wife Catherine to come to mefor God Hislove.' I didn't wait for daylight."

"Holysaints! He has come homeKate. Nayshe would sure have said so.What on earth can it be?" And she heaped conjecture onconjecture.

"Mayhapthe young man can tell us" hazarded Kate timidly

"ThatI can" said Luke"Whyher babe is a-dyingAnd she wasso wrapped up in it! "

Catherinestarted up: "What is his trouble?"

"NayI know not. But it has been peaking and pining worse and worse thiswhile"

Afurtive glance of satisfaction passed between Cornelis and Sybrandt.Luckily for them Catherine did not see it. Her face was turnedtowards her husband. "NowEli" cried she furiously"ifyou say a word against ityou and I shall quarrelafter all theseyears.'

"Whogainsays theefoolish woman? Quarrel with your own shadowwhile Igo borrow Peter's mule for ye."

"Blesstheemy good man! Bless thee! Didst never yet fail me at a pinchNow eat your dinners who canwhile I go and make ready."

Shetook Luke back with her in the cartand on the way questioned andcross-questioned him severely and seductively by turnstill she hadturned his mind inside outwhat there was of it.

Margaretmet her at the doorpale and agitatedand threw her arms round herneckand looked imploringly in her face.

"Comehe is alivethank God" said Catherineafter scanning hereagerly

Shelooked at the failing childand then at the poor hollow-eyed motheralternately"Lucky you sent for me" said she"Thechild is poisoned."

"Poisoned!by whom?"

"Byyou. You have been fretting."

"Nayindeedmother. How can I help fretting?"

"Don'ttell meMargaret. A nursing mother has no business to fret. She mustturn her mind away from her grief to the comfort that lies in herlap. Know you not that the child pines if the mother vexes herself?This comes of your reading and writing. Those idle crafts befit aman; but they keep all useful knowledge out of a woman. The childmust be weaned."

"Ohyou cruel woman" cried Margaret vehemently; "I am sorry Isent for you. Would you rob me of the only bit of comfort I have inthe world? A-nursing my GerardI forget I am the most unhappycreature beneath the sun."

"Thatyou do not" was the retort"or he would not be the way heis."

"Mother!"said Margaret imploringly

"'Tishard" replied Catherinerelenting. "But bethink thee;would it not be harder to look down and see his lovely wee facea-looking up at you out of a little coffin?"

"OhJesu!"

"Andhow could you face your other troubles with your heart aye fullandyour lap empty?"

"OhmotherI consent to anything. Only save my boy."

"Thatis a good lassTrust to me! I do stand byand see clearer thanthou."

Unfortunatelythere was another consent to be gained - the babe's; and he was morerefractory than his mother.

"There"said Margarettrying to affect regret at his misbehaviour; "heloves me too well."

ButCatherine was a match for them both. As she came along she hadobserved a healthy young womansitting outside her own doorwith aninfanthard by. She went and told her the case; and would she nursethe pining child for the noncetill she had matters ready to weanhim?

Theyoung woman consented with a smileand popped her child into thecradleand came into Margaret's house. She dropped a curtseyandCatherine put the child into her hands. She examinedand pitied itand purred over itand proceeded to nurse itjust as if it had beenher own

Margaretwho had been paralyzed at her assurancecast a rueful look atCatherineand burst out crying.

Thevisitor looked up. "What is to do? Wifeye told me not themother was unwilling."

"Sheis not: she is only a fool. Never heed her; and youMargaretI amashamed of you."

"Youare a cruelhard-hearted woman" sobbed Margaret.

"Themas take in hand to guide the weak need be hardish. And you willexcuse me; but you are not my flesh and blood; and your boy is."

Aftergiving this blunt speech time to sinkshe added"Come nowsheis robbing her own to save yoursand you can think of nothing betterthan bursting out a-blubbering in the woman's face. Out fieforshame!"

"Naywife" said the nurse. 'Thank HeavenI have enough for my ownand for hers to boot. And prithee wyte not on her! Maybe the troubleso' life ha' soured her own milk."

"andher heart into the bargain" said the remorseless Catherine.

Margaretlooked her full in the face; and down went her eyes.

"Iknow I ought to be very grateful to you" sobbed Margaret to thenurse: then turned her head and leaned away over the chairnot towitness the intolerable sight of another nursing her GerardandGerard drawing no distinction between this new mother and her thebanished one.

Thenurse replied"You are very welcomemy poor woman. And so areyouMistress Catherinewhich are my townswomanand know it not"

"Whatare ye from Tergou? all the betterBut I cannot call your face tomind."

"Ohyou know not me: my husband and mewe are very humble folk by you.But true Eli and his wife are known of all the town; and respectedSoI am at your calldame; and at yourswife; and yoursmy prettypoppet; night or day."

"There'sa woman of the right old sort" said Catherineas the doorclosed upon her.

"IHATE her. I HATE her. I HATE her" said Margaretwith wonderfulfervour.

Catherineonly laughed at this outburst.

"Thatis right" said she; "better say itas set sly and thinkit. It is very natural after allComehere is your bundle o'comfort. Take and hate thatif ye can;" and she put the childin her lap

"Nono" said Margaretturning her head half way from him; shecould not for her life turn the other half. "He is not my childnow; he is hers. I know not why she left him herefor my part. Itwas very good of her not to take him to her housecradle and all;oh! oh! oh! oh! oh! oh oh! oh!"

"Ah!wellone comforthe is not dead. This gives me light: some otherwoman has got him away from me; like fatherlike son; oh! oh! oh!oh! oh!"

Catherinewas sorry for herand let her cry in peace. And after thatwhen shewanted Joan's aidshe used to take Gerard outto give him a littlefresh air. Margaret never objected; nor expressed the leastincredulity; but on their return was always in tears.

Thisconnivance was short-lived. She was now altogether as eager to weanlittle Gerard. It was done; and he recovered health and vigour; andanother trouble fell upon him directly teethingBut here Catherine'sexperience was invaluable; and nowin the midst of her grief andanxiety about the fatherMargaret had moments of blisswatching theson's tiny teeth come through. "Teethmother? I call them notteethbut pearls of pearls." And each pearl that peeped andsparkled on his red gumswas to her the greatest feat Nature hadever achieved.

Hercompanion partook the illusion. And had we told them standing cornwas equally admirableMargaret would have changed to a reproachfulgazelleand Catherine turned us out of doors; so each pearl'sarrival was announced with a shriek of triumph by whichever of themwas the fortunate discoverer

Catherinegossiped with Joanand learned that she was the wife of Jorian Ketelof Tergouwho had been servant to Ghysbrecht Van Swietenbut fallenout of favourand come back to Rotterdamhis native place. Hisfriends had got him the place of sexton to the parishand what withthat and carpenteringhe did pretty well.

Catherinetold Joan in return whose child it was she had nursedand all aboutMargaret and Gerardand the deep anxiety his silence had plungedthem in. "Ay" said Joan"the world is full oftrouble." One day she said to Catherine"It's my belief myman knows more about your Gerard than anybody in these parts; but hehas got to be closer than ever of late. Drop in some day just aforesunsetand set him talking. And for our Lady's sake say not I setyou on. The only hiding he ever gave me was for babbling hisbusiness; and I do not want another. Gramercy! I married a man forthe comfort of the thingnot to be hided."

Catherinedropped in. Jorian was ready enough to tell her how he had befriendedher son and perhaps saved his life. But this was no news toCatherine; and the moment she began to cross-question him as towhether he could guess why her lost boy neither came nor wrotehecast a grim look at his wifewho received it with a calm air ofstolid candour and innocent unconsciousness; and his answers becameshort and sullen.

"Whatshould he know more than another?" and so on. He addedafter apause"Think you the burgomaster takes such as me into hissecrets?"

"Ohthen the burgomaster knows something?" said Catherine sharply.

"Likely.Who else should?"

"I'llask him."

"Iwould."

"Andtell him you say he knows."

"Thatis rightdame. Go make him mine enemy. That is what a poor fellowalways gets if he says a word to you women."

AndJorian from that moment shrunk in and became impenetrable as ahedgehogand almost as prickly.

Hisconduct caused both the poor women agonies of mindalarmandirritated curiosity. Ghysbrecht was for some cause Gerard's mortalenemy; had stopped his marriageimprisoned himhunted him. And herewas his late servantwho when off his guard had hinted that thisenemy had the clue to Gerard's silence. After sifting Jorian's everyword and lookall remained dark and mysterious. Then Catherine toldMargaret to go herself to him. "You are youngyou are fair. Youwill maybe get more out of him than I could."

Theconjecture was a reasonable one.

Margaretwent with her child in her arms and tapped timidly at Jorian's doorjust before sunset. "Come in" said a sturdy voice. Sheenteredand there sat Jorian by the fireside. At sight of her herosesnortedand burst out of the house. "Is that for mewife?" inquired Margaretturning very red.

"Youmust excuse him" replied Joanrather coldly; "he lays itto your door that he is a poor man instead of a rich one. It issomething about a piece of parchmentThere was one amissingand hegot nought from the burgomaster all along of that one."

"Alas!Gerard took it."

"LikelyBut my man says you should not have let him: you were pledged to himto keep them all safe. And sooth to SayI blame not my Jorian forbeing wroth'Tis hard for a poor man to be so near fortune and loseit by those he has befriended. HoweverI tell him another story.Says I'Folk that are out o' trouble like you and me didn't ought tobe too hard on folk that are in trouble; and she has plentyGoingalready? What is all your hurrymistress?"

"Ohit is not for me to drive the goodman out of his own house."

"Welllet me kiss the bairn afore ye go. He is not in fault anywaypoorinnocent."

Uponthis cruel rebuff Margaret came to a resolutionwhich she did notconfide even to Catherine.

Aftersix weeks' stay that good woman returned home

Onthe child's birthdaywhich occurred soon afterMargaret did nowork; but put on her Sunday clothesand took her boy in her arms andwent to the church and prayed there long and fervently for Gerard'ssafe return.

Thatsame day and hour Father Clement celebrated a mass and prayed forMargaret's departed soul in the minster church at Basle

 

CHAPTERLXXVIII

Someblackguard or otherI think it was Sybrandtsaid"A lie isnot like a blow with a curtal axe."

True:for we can predict in some degree the consequences of a stroke withany material weapon. But a lie has no bounds at all. The nature ofthe thing is to ramify beyond human calculation

Oftenin the everyday world a lie has cost a lifeor laid waste two orthree

Andsoin this storywhat tremendous consequences of that one heartlessfalsehood!

Yetthe tellers reaped little from it.

Thebrotherswho invented it merely to have one claimant the less fortheir father's propertysaw little Gerard take their brother's placein their mother's heart. Naymoreone day Eli openly proclaimedthatGerard being lostand probably deadhe had provided by willfor little Gerardand also for Margarethis poor son's widow.

Atthis the look that passed between the black sheep was a caution totraitors. Cornelis had it on his lips to say. Gerard was most likelyaliveBut he saw his mother looking at himand checked himself intime

GhysbrechtVan Swietenthe other partner in that liewas now a failing man. Hesaw the period fast approaching when all his wealth would drop fromhis bodyand his misdeeds cling to his soul.

Toointelligent to deceive himself entirelyhe had never been free fromgusts of remorse. In taking Gerard's letter to Margaret he hadcompounded. "I cannot give up land and money" said hisgiant Avarice. "I will cause her no unnecessary pain" saidhis dwarf Conscience.

Soafter first tampering with the sealand finding there was not asyllable about the deedhe took it to her with his own hand; andmade a merit of it to himself: a set-off; and on a scale not uncommonwhere the self-accuser is the judge.

Thebirth of Margaret's child surprised and shocked himand put histreacherous act in a new light. Should his letter take effect heshould cause the dishonour of her who was the daughter of one friendthe granddaughter of anotherand whose land he was keeping from hertoo.

Thesethoughts preying on him at that period of life when the strength ofbody decaysand the memory of old friends revivesfilled him withgloomy horrors. Yet he was afraid to confess. For the cure was anhonest manand would have made him disgorge. And with him Avaricewas an ingrained habitPenitence only a sentiment.

Matterswere thus whenone dayreturning from the town hall to his ownhousehe found a woman waiting for him in the vestibulewith achild in her arms. She was veiledand soconcluding she hadsomething to be ashamed ofhe addressed her magisteriallyOn thisshe let down her veil and looked him full in the face.

Itwas Margaret Brandt.

Hersudden appearance and manner startled himand he could not concealhis confusion.

"Whereis my Gerard?" cried sheher bosom heaving. "Is he alive?"

"Foraught I know" stammered Ghysbrecht. "I hope sofor yoursake. Prithee come into this room. The servants!"

"Nota step" said Margaretand she took him by the shoulderandheld him with all the energy of an excited woman. "You know thesecret of that which is breaking my heart. Why does not my Gerardcomenor send a line this many months? Answer meor all the town islike to hear melet alone thy servantsMy misery is too great to besported with."

Invain he persisted he knew nothing about Gerard. She told him thosewho had sent her to him told her another tale

"Youdo know why he neither comes nor sends" said she firmly

Atthis Ghysbrecht turned paler and paler; but he summoned all hisdignityand said"Would you believe those two knaves against aman of worship?"

"Whattwo knaves?" said she keenly

Hestammered"Said ye not -? There I am a poor old broken manwhose memory is shaken. And you come hereand confuse me soI knownot what I say."

"Aysiryour memory is shakenor sure you would not be my enemy. Myfather saved you from the plaguewhen none other would come anighyou; and was ever your friend. My grandfather Floris helped you inyour early povertyand loved youman and boy. Three generations ofus you have seen; and here is the fourth of us; this is your oldfriend Peter's grandchildand your old friend Floris hisgreat-grandchild. Look down on his innocent faceand think oftheirs!"

"Womanyou torture me" sighed Ghysbrechtand sank upon a bench. Butshe saw her advantageand kneeled before himand put the boy on hisknees. "This fatherless babe is poor Margaret Brandt'sthatnever did you illand comes of a race that loved you. Naylook athis face. 'Twill melt thee more than any word of mineSaints ofheavenwhat can a poor desolate girl and her babe have done to wipeout all memory of thine own young dayswhen thou wert guiltless ashe isthat now looks up in thy face and implores thee to give himback his father?"

Andwith her arms under the child she held him up higher and highersmiling under the old man's eyes

Hecast a wild look of anguish on the childand another on the kneelingmotherand started up shrieking"Avauntye pair of adders."

Thestung soul gave the old limbs a momentary vigourand he walkedrapidlywringing his hands and clutching at his white hair. "Forgetthose days? I forget all else. Ohwomanwomansleeping or waking Isee but the faces of the deadI hear but the voices of the deadandI shall soon be among the deadTheretherewhat is done is done. Iam in hell. I am in hell"

Andunnatural force ended in prostration.

Hestaggeredand but for Margaret would have fallenWith her onedisengaged arm she supported him as well as she could and cried forhelp.

Acouple of servants came runningand carried him away in a statebordering on syncopeThe last Margaret saw of him was his oldfurrowed facewhite and helpless as his hair that hung down over theservant's elbow.

"Heavenforgive me" she said. "I doubt I have killed the poor oldman."

Thenthis attempt to penetrate the torturing mystery left it as darkordarker than before. For when she came to ponder every wordhersuspicion was confirmed that Ghysbrecht did know something aboutGerard. "And who were the two knaves he thought had done a gooddeedand told me? Ohmy Gerardmy poor deserted babeyou and Iare wading in deep waters."

Thevisit to Tergou took more money than she could well afford; and acustomer ran away in her debt. She was once more compelled to unfoldCatherine's angel. But strange to sayas she came down stairs withit in her hand she found some loose silver on the tablewith awritten line -
For Gerard his wife.

Shefell with a cry of surprise on the writing; and soon it rose into acry of joy.

"Heis alive. He sends me this by some friendly hand."

Shekissed the writing again and againand put it in her bosom.

Timerolled onand no news of Gerard.

Andabout every two months a small sum in silver found its way into thehouse. Sometimes it lay on the table. Once it was flung in throughthe bedroom window in a purse. Once it was at the bottom of Luke'sbasket. He had stopped at the public-house to talk to a friend. Thegiver or his agent was never detected. Catherine disowned it.Margaret Van Eyck swore she had no hand in it. So did Eli. AndMargaretwhenever it cameused to say to little Gerard"Ohmy poor deserted childyou and I are wading in deep waters.

Sheapplied at least half this modestbut useful supplyto dressing thelittle Gerard beyond his station in life. "If it does come fromGerardhe shall see his boy neat." All the mothers in thestreet began to sneerespecially such as had brats out at elbows.

Themonths rolled onand dead sickness of heart succeeded to thesekeener torments. She returned to her first thought: "Gerard mustbe dead. She should never see her boy's father againnor hermarriage lines." This last griefwhich had been somewhatallayed by Eli and Catherine recognizing her betrothalnow revivedin full force; others would not look so favourably on her story. Andoften she moaned over her boy's illegitimacy.

"Isit not enough for us to be bereaved? Must we be dishonoured too? Ohthat we had ne'er been born."

Achange took place in Peter Brandt. His mindclouded for nearly twoyearsseemed now to be clearing; he had intervals of intelligence;and then he and Margaret used to talk of Gerardtill he wanderedagain. But one dayreturning after an absence of some hoursMargaret found him conversing with Catherinein a way he had neverdone since his paralytic stroke. "Ehgirlwhy must you beout?" said she. "But indeed I have told him all; and wehave been a-crying together over thy troubles."

Margaretstood silentlooking joyfully from one to the other

Petersmiled on herand said"Comelet me bless thee."

Shekneeled at his feetand he blessed her most eloquently

Hetold her she had been all her life the lovingesttruestand mostobedient daughter Heaven ever sent to a poor old widowed man. "Maythy son be to thee what thou hast been to me!"

Afterthis he dozed. Then the females whispered together; and Catherinesaid - "All our talk e'en now was of Gerard. It lies heavy onhis mind. His poor head must often have listened to us when it seemedquite dark. Margarethe is a very understanding man; he thought ofmany things: 'He may be in prisonsays he'or forced to go fightingfor some kingor sent to Constantinople to copy books thereor goneinto the Church after all.' He had a bent that way."

"Ahmother" whispered Margaretin reply"he doth but deceivehimself as we do."

Ereshe could finish the sentencea strange interruption occurred.

Aloud voice cried out"I SEE HIMI SEE HIM."

Andthe old man with dilating eyes seemed to be looking right through thewall of the house.

"INA BOAT; ON A GREAT RIVER; COMING THIS WAY. Sore disfigured; but Iknew him. Gone! gone! all dark"

Andhe sank backand asked feebly where was Margaret.

"DearfatherI am by thy sideOhmother! motherwhat is this?"

"Icannot see theeand but a moment agone I saw all round the worldAyay. WellI am ready. Is this thy hand? Bless theemy childbless thee! Weep not! The tree is ripe."

Theold physician read the signs aright. These calm words were his last.The next moment he drooped his headand gentlyplacidlydriftedaway from earthlike an infant sinking to restThe torch hadflashed up before going out

 

CHAPTERLXXIX

Shewho had wept for poor old Martin was not likely to bear this blow sostoically as the death of the old is apt to be borne. In vainCatherine tried to console her with commonplaces; in vain told her itwas a happy release for him; and thatas he himself had saidthetree was ripe. But her worst failure waswhen she urged that therewere now but two mouths to feed; and one care the less.

"Suchcares are all the joys I have" said Margaret. "They fillmy desolate heartwhich now seems void as well as waste. Ohemptychairmy bosom it aches to see thee. Poor old manhow could I lovehim by halvesI that did use to sit and look at him and think'Butfor me thou wouldst die of hunger.' Heso wiseso learned erstwasgot to be helpless as my own sweet babeand I loved him as if he hadbeen my child instead of my father. Ohempty chair! Ohempty heart!Well-a-day! well-a-day!"

Andthe pious tears would not be denied.

ThenCatherine held her peace; and hung her head. And one day she madethis confession"I speak to thee out o' my headand not out o'my bosom; thou dost well to be deaf to me. Were I in thy place Ishould mourn the old man all one as thou dost."

ThenMargaret embraced herand this bit of true sympathy did her a littlegood. The commonplaces did none

ThenCatherine's bowels yearned over herand she said"My poorgirlyou were not born to live alone. I have got to look on you asmy own daughter. Waste not thine youth upon my son Gerard. Either heis dead or he is a traitor. It cuts my heart to say it; but who canhelp seeing it? Thy father is gone; and I cannot always be asidethee. And here is an honest lad that loves thee well this many a day.I'd take him and Comfort together. Heaven hath sent us thesecreatures to torment us and comfort us and all; we are just nothingin the world without 'em" Then seeing Margaret look utterlyperplexedshe went on to say"Whysure you are not so blindas not to see it?"

"What?Who?"

"Whobut this Luke Peterson."

"Whatour Luke? The boy that carries my basket?"

"Nayhe is over nineteenand a fine healthy lad; and I have madeinquiries for you; and they all do say he is a capable workmanandnever touches a drop; and that is much in a Rotterdam ladwhich theyare mostly half manhalf sponge."

Margaretsmiled for the first time this many days. "Luke loves driedpuddings dearly" said she"and I make them to his mind'Tis them he comes a-courting here." Then she suddenly turnedred. "But if I thought he came after your son's wife that isorought to beI'd soon put him to the door."

"Naynay; for Heaven's sake let me not make mischief. Poor lad! WhygirlFancy will not be bridledBless youI wormed it out of him near atwelvemonth agone."

"Ohmotherand you let him?"

"WellI thought of you. I said to myself'If he is fool enough to be herslave for nothingall the better for her. A lone woman is lostwithout a man about her to fetch and carry her little matters' Butnow my mind is changedand I think the best use you can put him tois to marry him."

"Sothen. his own mother is against himand would wed me to the firstcomer. AnGerardthou hast but me; I will not believe thee deadtill I see thy tombnor false till I see thee with another lover inthine hand. Foolish boyI shall ne'er be civil to him again."

Afflictedwith the busybody's protectionLuke Peterson met a cold reception inthe house where he had hitherto found a gentle and kind one. Andby-and-byfinding himself very little spoken to at alland thensharply and irritablythe great soft fellow fell to whimperingandasked Margaret plump if he had done anything to offend her.

"Nothing.I am to blame. I am curst. If you will take my counsel you will keepout of my way awhile."

"Itis all along of meLuke" said the busybody

"YouMistress CatherineWhywhat have I done for you to set her againstme?"

"NayI meant all for the best. I told her I saw you were looking towardsher through a wedding ringBut she won't hear of it"

"Therewas no need to tell her thatwife; she knows I am courting her thistwelvemonth."

"NotI" said Margaret; "or I should never have opened thestreet door to you.

"WhyI come here every Saturday night. And that is how the lads inRotterdam do court. If we sup with a lass o' Saturdaysthat wooing."

Ohthat is Rotterdamis it? Then next time you comelet it be Thursdayor Friday. For my partI thought you came after my puddingsboy."

"Ilike your puddings well enough. You make them better than motherdoesBut I like you still better than the puddings" said Luketenderly.

"Thenyou have seen the last of them. How dare you talk so to another man'swifeand him far away?" She ended gentlybut very firmly"Youneed not trouble yourself to come here any moreLuke; I can carry mybasket myself"

"Ohvery well" said Luke; and after sitting silent and stupid for alittle whilehe roseand said sadly to Catherine"DameIdaresay I have got the sack;" and went out.

Butthe next Saturday Catherine found him seated on the doorstepblubbering. He told her he had got used to come thereand everyother place seemed strange. She went inand told Margaret; andMargaret sighedand said"Poor Lukehe might come in for herif he could know his placeand treat her like a married wife."On this being communicated to Lukehe hesitated"Pshaw!"said Catherine"promises are pie-crusts. Promise her all theworldsooner than sit outside like a foolwhen a word will carryyou inside. now you humour her in everythingand thenif PoorGerard come not home and claim heryou will be sure to have her - intime. A lone woman is aye to be tired outthou foolish boy."

 

CHAPTERLXXX

THECLOISTER

BrotherClement had taught and preached in Basle more than a twelvemonthwhen one day Jerome stood before himdustywith a triumphant glancein his eye.

"Givethe glory to GodBrother Clement; thou canst now wend to Englandwith me."

"Iam readyBrother Jerome; and expecting thee these many monthshavein the intervals of teaching and devotion studied the English tonguesomewhat closely."

"'Twaswell thought of" said Jerome. He then told him he had butdelayed till he could obtain extraordinary powers from the Pope tocollect money for the Church's use in Englandand to hear confessionin all the secular monasteries. "So now gird up thy loinsandlet us go forth and deal a good blow for the Churchand against theFranciscans."

Thetwo friars went preaching down the Rhine for England. In the largerplaces they both preached. At the smaller they often dividedandtook different sides of the riverand met again at some appointedspot. Both were able oratorsbut in different styles

Jerome'swas noble and impressivebut a little contracted in religioustopicsand a trifle monotonous in delivery compared with Clement'sthough in truth not socompared with most preachers.

Clement'swas full of varietyand often remarkably colloquial. In its generalflowtender and gently winningit curled round the reason and theheart. But it always rose with the rising thought; and so at timesClement soared as far above Jerome as his level speaking was belowhim. Indeedin these noble heats he was all that we hue read ofinspired prophet or heathen orator: Vehemens ut procellaexcitatusut torrensincensus ut fulmentonabatfulgurabatet rapidiseloquentiae fiuctibus cuncta proruebat et perturbabat.

Iwould give literal specimensbut for five objections; it isdifficult; time is short; I have done it elsewhere; an able imitatorhas since done it better and similaritya virtue in peasis a vicein books.

But(not to evade the matter entirely) Clement used secretly to try andlearn the recent events and the besetting sin of each town he was topreach in.

ButJeromethe unbendingscorned to go out of his way for any people'svices. At one great townsome leagues from the Rhinethey mountedthe same pulpit in turn. Jerome preached against vanity in dressafavourite theme of his. He was eloquent and satiricaland the peoplelistened with complacency. It was a vice that they were little givento.

Clementpreached against drunkenness. It was a besetting sinand sacred frompreaching in these parts: for the clergy themselves were infectedwith itand popular prejudice protected itClement dealt itmerciless blows out of Holy Writ and worldly experience. A crimeitselfit was the nursing mother of most crimesespecially theftand murder. He reminded them of a parricide that had lately beencommitted in their town by all honest man in liquor; and also how aband of drunkards had roasted one of their own comrades alive at aneighbouring village. "Your last prince" said he"isreported to have died of apoplexybut well you know he died ofdrink; and of your aldermen one perished miserably last month deaddrunksuffocated in a puddle. Your children's backs go bare that youmay fill your bellies with that which makes you the worst of beastssilly as calvesyet fierce as boars; and drives your families toneedand your souls to hell. I tell ye your townayand your verynationwould sink to the bottom of mankind did your women drink asyou do. And how long will they be temperateand contrary to natureresist the example of their husbands and fathers? Vice ne'er yetstood still. Ye must amend yourselvesor see them come down to yourmarkAlready in Bohemia they drink along with the men. How shows adrunken woman? Would you love to see your wives drunkenyour mothersdrunken?" At this there was a shout of horrorfor mediaevalaudiences had not learned to sit mumchance at a moving sermon. "Ahthat comes home to you" cried the friar. "What madmen!think you it doth not more shock the all-pure God to see a manHisnoblest workturned to a drunken beastthan it can shock youcreatures of sin and unreason to see a woman turned into a thing nobetter nor worse than yourselves

Heended with two pictures: a drunkard's house and familyand a soberman's; both so true and dramatic in all their details that the wivesfell all to "ohing" and "ahing" and "Ehbut that is a true word."

Thisdiscourse caused quite all uproar. The hearers formed knots; the menwere indignant; so the women flattered them and took their partopenly against the preacher. A married man had a right to a drop; heneeded itworking for all the family. And for their part they didnot care to change their men for milksops.

Thedouble faces! That very evening a hand of men caught near a hundredof them round Brother Clementfilling his wallet with the bestandoffering him the very roses off their headsand kissing his frockand blessing him "for taking in hand to mend their sots."

Jeromethought this sermon too earthly.

"Drunkennessis not heresyClementthat a whole sermon should be preachedagainst it."

Asthey went onhe found to his surprise that Clement's sermons sankinto his hearers deeper than his own; made them listenthinkcryand sometimes even amend their ways. "He hath the art of sinkingto their peg" thought Jerome"Yet he can soar high enoughat times."

Uponthe whole it puzzled Jeromewho had a secret sense of superiority tohis tenderer brother. And after about two hundred miles of itit gotto displease him as well as puzzle him. But he tried to check thissentiment as petty and unworthy. "Souls differ like locks"said he"and preachers must differ like keysor the fewershould the Church open for God to pass in. And certesthis novicehath the key to these northern soulsbeing himself a northern man"

Andso they came slowly down the Rhinesometimes drifting a few milesdown the stream; but in general walking by the banks preachingandteachingand confessing sinners in the towns and villages; and theyreached the town of Dusseldorf.

Therewas the little quay where Gerard and Denys had taken boat up theRhineThe friars landed on it. There were the streetsthere was"The Silver Lion." Nothing had changed but hewho walkedthrough it barefootwith his heart calm and coldhis hands acrosshis breastand his eyes bent meekly on the grounda true son ofDominic and Holy Church.

 

CHAPTERLXXXI

THEHEARTH

"Eli"said Catherine"answer me one question like a manand I'll askno more to-day. What is wormwood?"

Elilooked a little helpless at this sudden demand upon his faculties;but soon recovered enough to say it was something that tasted mainbitter.

"Thatis a fair answermy manbut not the one I look for."

"Thenanswer it yourself."

"Andshall. Wormwood is - to have two in the house a-doing noughtbutwaiting for thy shoes and mine" Eli groaned. The shaft struckhome.

"Methinkswaiting for their best friend's coffinthat and nothing to doareenow to make them worse than Nature meant. Why not set them upsomewhereto give 'em a chance?"

Elisaid he was willingbut afraid they would drink and gamble theirvery shelves away

"Nay"said Catherine"Dost take me for a simpleton? Of course I meanto watch them at startingand drive them wi' a loose reinas thesaying is."

"Wheredid you think of? Not here; to divide our own custom."

"Notlikely. I say Rotterdam against the world. Then I could start them."

Ohself-deception! The true motive of all this was to get near littleGerard.

Aftermany discussions and eager promises of amendment on these terms fromCornelis and SybrandtCatherine went to Rotterdam shop-huntingandtook Kate with her; for a changeThey soon found oneand in a goodstreet; but it was sadly out of order. Howeverthey got it cheaperfor thatand instantly set about brushing it upfitting propershelves for the businessand making the dwelling-house habitable

LukePeterson was always asking Margaret what he could do for her. Theanswer used to be in a sad tone"NothingLukenothing."

"Whatyou that are so clevercan you think of nothing for me to do for you

"NothingLukenothing."

Butat last she varied the reply thus: "If you could make somethingto help my sweet sister Kate about."

Theslave of love consented joyfullyand soon made Kate a little cartand cushioned itand yoked himself into itand at eventide drew herout of the townand along the pleasant boulevardwith Margaret andCatherine walking beside. It looked a happier party than it was

Katefor oneenjoyed it keenlyfor little Gerard was put in her lapandshe doted on him; and it was like a cherub carried by a little angelor a rosebud lying in the cup of a lily.

Sothe vulgar jeered; and asked Luke how a thistle tastedand if hismistress could not afford one with four legsetc.

Lukedid not mind these jeers; but Kate minded them for him.

"Thouhast made the cart for megood Luke" said she"'Twasmuch. I did ill to let thee draw me too; we can afford to pay somepoor soul for that. I love my ridesand to carry little Gerard; butI'd liever ride no more than thou be mocked fort."

"MuchI care for their tongues" said Luke; "if I did care I'dknock their heads together. I shall draw you till my mistress saysgive over.

"Lukeif you obey Kateyou will oblige me"

"ThenI will obey Kate."

Anhonourable exception to popular humour was Jorian Ketel's wife. "Thatis strength well laid outto draw the weak. And her prayers will beyour guerdon; she is not long for this world; she smileth in pain."These were the words of Joan.

Single-mindedLuke answered that he did not want the poor lass's prayers he did itto please his mistressMargaret.

Afterthat Luke often pressed Margaret to give him something to do -without success.

Butone dayas if tired with his importuningshe turned on himandsaid with a look and accent I should in vain try to convey:

"Findme my boy's father."

 

CHAPTERLXXXII

"Mistressthey all say he is dead."

"Notso. They feed me still with hopes."

"Ayto your facebut behind your back they all say he is dead."

Atthis revelation Margaret's tears began to flow'.

Lukewhimpered for company. He had the body of a man but the heart of agirl.

"pritheeweep not sosweet mistress" said he. "I'd bring him backto life an I couldrather than see thee weed so sore."

Margaretsaid she thought she was weeping because they were so double-tonguedwith her.

Sherecovered herselfand laying her hand on his shouldersaidsolemnly"Lukehe is not dead. Dying men are known to have astrange sight. And listenLuke! My poor fatherwhen he was a-dyingand Isimple foolwas so happythinking he was going to get wellaltogetherhe said to mother and me - he was sitting in that verychair where you are nowand mother was as might be hereand I wasyonder making a sleeve - said he'I see him!' I see him! Just so.Not like a failing man at allbut all o' fire. 'Sore disfigured-on agreat river-coming this way.'

"AhLukeif you were a womanand had the feeling for me you think youhaveyou would pity meand find him for me. Take a thought! Thefather of my child!"

"AlackI would if I knew how" said Luke. "but how can I?"

"Nayof course you cannot. I am mad to think it. But ohif any one reallycared for methey would; that is all I know.

Lukereflected in silence for some time.

"Theold folk all say dying men can see more than living wights. Let methink: for my mind cannot gallop like thine. On a great river Wellthe Maas is a great river." He pondered on.

"Comingthis way? Then if it 'twas the Maashe would have been here by thistimeso 'tis not the Maas. The Rhine is a great rivergreater thanthe Maas; and very long. I think it will be the Rhine."

"andso do ILuke; for Denys bade him come down the Rhine. But even if itishe may turn off before he comes anigh his birthplace. He does notpine for me as I for him; that is clear. Lukedo you not think hehas deserted me?" She wanted him to contradict herbut he said"It looks very like it; what a fool he must be!"

"Whatdo we know?" objected Margaret imploringly

"Letme think again" said Luke. "I cannot gallop."

Theresult of this meditation was this. He knew a station about sixtymiles up the Rhinewhere all the public boats put in; and he wouldgo to that stationand try and cut the truant off. To be sure he didnot even know him by sight; but as each boat came in he would minglewith the passengersand ask if one Gerard was there. "Andmistressif you were to give me a bit of a letter to him; forwithus being strangersmayhap a won't believe a word I say."

"Goodkindthoughtful LukeI will (how I have undervalued thee!). Butgive me till supper-time to get it writ." At supper she put aletter into his hand with a blush; it was a long lettertied roundwith silk after the fashion of the dayand sealed over the knot.

Lukeweighed it in his handwith a shade of discontentand said to hervery gravely"Say your father was not dreamingand say I havethe luck to fall in with this manand say he should turn out abetter bit of stuff than I think himand come home to you then andthere - what is to become o' me?"

Margaretcoloured to her very brow. "OhLukeHeaven will reward thee.And I shall fall on my knees and bless thee; and I shall love theeall my dayssweet Lukeas a mother does her son. I am so old bythee: trouble ages the heart. Thou shalt not go 'tis not fair of me.Love maketh us to be all self."

"Humph!"said Luke. "And if" resumed hein the same grave way"yon scapegrace shall read thy letterand hear me tell him howthou pinest for himand yetbeing a traitoror a mere idiotwillnot turn to thee what shall become of me then? Must I die a bachelorand thou fare lonely to thy graveneither maidwifenor widow?"

Margaretpanted with fear and emotion at this terrible piece of good senseand the plain question which followed it. But at last she falteredout"Ifwhich our Lady be merciful to meand forbid - Oh!"

"Wellmistress?"

"Ifhe should read my letterand hear thy words - andsweet Lukebejust and tell him what a lovely babe he hathfatherlessfatherless.OhLukecan he be so cruel?"

"Itrow not but if?"

"Thenhe will give thee up my marriage linesand I shall be an honestwomanand a wretched oneand my boy will not be a bastard; and ofcoursethen we could both go into any honest man's house that wouldbe troubled with us; and even for thy goodness this dayI will - Iwill - ne'er be so ungrateful as go past thy door to another man's."

"Aybut will you come in at mine? Answer me that!"

"Ohask me not! Some dayperhapswhen my wounds leave bleeding. AlasI'll try. If I don't fling myself and my child into the Maas. Do notgoLuke! do not think of going! 'Tis all madness from first tolast."

ButLuke was as slow to forego an idea as to form one.

Hisreply showed how fast love was making a man of him. "Well"said he"madness is somethinganyway; and I am tired of doingnothing for thee; and I am no great talker. To-morrowat peep ofdayI start. But holdI have no money. My mothershe takes care ofall mine; and I ne'er see it again."

ThenMargaret took out Catherine's gold angelwhich had escaped so oftenand gave it to Luke; and he set out on his mad errand.

Itdid nothoweverseem so mad to him as to us. It was a superstitiousage; and Luke acted on the dying man's dreamor visionor illusionor whatever it wasmuch as we should act on respectable information.

ButCatherine was downright angry when she heard of it"To send thepoor lad on such a wild-goose chase! "But you are like a manymore girls; and mark my words; by the time you have worn that Lukefairly outand made him as sick of you as a dogyou will turn asfond on him as a cow on a calfand 'Too late' will be the cry."

THECLOISTER

Thetwo friars reached Holland from the south just twelve hours afterLuke started up the Rhine.

Thuswild-goose chase or notthe parties were nearing each otherandrapidly too. For Jeromeunable to preach in low Dutchnow began topush on towards the coastanxious to get to England as soon aspossible.

Andhaving the stream with themthe friars would in point of fact havemissed Luke by passing him in full stream below his stationbut forthe incident which I am about to relate.

Abouttwenty miles above the station Luke was making forClement landed topreach in a large village; and towards the end of his sermon henoticed a grey nun weeping.

Hespoke to her kindlyand asked her what was her grief.

"Nay"said she"'tis not for myself flow these tears; 'tis for mylost friend. Thy words reminded me of what she wasand what she ispoor wretchBut you are a Dominicanand I am a Franciscan nun."

"Itmatters littlemy sisterif we are both Christiansand if I canaid thee in aught."

Thenun looked in his faceand said"These are strange wordsbutmethinks they are good; and thy lips are ohmost eloquentI willtell thee our grief."

Shethen let him know that a young nunthe darling of the conventandher bosom friendhad been lured away from her vowsand aftervarious gradations of sinwas actually living in a small inn aschambermaidin reality as a decoyand was known to be selling herfavours to the wealthier customersShe added"Anywhere else wemightby kindly violenceforce her away from perditionBut thisinnkeeper was the servant of the fierce baron on the height thereand hath his ear stilland he would burn our convent to the groundwere we to take her by force"

"Moreoversouls will not be saved by brute force" said Clement.

Whilethey were talking Jerome came upand Clement persuaded him to lie atthe convent that nightBut when in the morning Clement told him hehad had a long talk with the abbessand that she was very sadandhe had promised her to try and win back her nunJerome objectedandsaid"It was not their businessand was a waste of time"Clementhoweverwas no longer a mere pupil. He stood firmand atlast they agreed that Jerome should go forwardand secure theirpassage in the next ship for Englandand Clement be allowed time tomake his well-meant but idle experiment.

Aboutten o'clock that daya figure in a horseman's cloakand great bootsto matchand a large flapping felt hatstood like a statue near theaubergewhere was the apostate nunMary. The friar thus disguisedwas at that moment truly wretched. These ardent natures undertakewonders; but are dashed when they come hand to hand with thesickening difficulties. But thenas their hearts are steelthoughtheir nerves are anything but ironthey turn not backbut pantingand dispiritedstruggle on to the last.

Clementhesitated long at the doorprayed for help and wisdomand at lastentered the inn and sat down faint at heartand with his body in acold perspirationBut inside he was another man. He called lustilyfor a cup of wine: it was brought him by the landlordHe paid for itwith money the convent had supplied him; and made a show of drinkingit

"Landlord"said he"I hear there is a fair chambermaid in thine house"

"Aystrangerthe buxomest in Holland. But she gives not her company toall comers only to good customers."

FriarClement dangled a massive gold chain in the landlord's sight. Helaughedand shouted"HereJanethere is a lover for theewould bind thee in chains of gold; and a tall lad into the bargainIpromise thee."

"ThenI am in double luck" said a female voice; "send himhither."

Clementroseshudderedand passed into the roomwhere Janet was seatedplaying with a piece of workand laying it down every minutetosing a mutilated fragment of a song. Forin her mode of lifeshehad not the patience to carry anything out.

Aftera few words of greetingthe disguised visitor asked her if theycould not be more private somewhere.

"Whynot?" said she. And she rose and smiledand went trippingbefore himHe followedgroaning inwardlyand sore perplexed.

"There"said she. "Have no fear! Nobody ever comes herebut such as payfor the privilege."

Clementlooked round the roomand prayed silently for wisdom. Then he wentsoftlyand closed the window-shutters carefully.

"Whaton earth is that for?" said Janetin some uneasiness.

"Sweetheart"whispered the visitorwith a mysterious air"it is that Godmay not see us.

"Madman"said Janet; "think you a wooden shutter can keep out His eye?"

"NayI know not. Perchance He has too much on hand to notice usBut Iwould not the saints and angels should see us. Would you?"

"Mypoor soulhope not to escape their sight! The only way is not tothink of them; for if you doit poisons your cup. For two pins I'drun and leave thee. Art pleasant company in sooth."

"Afterallgirlso that men see us notwhat signify God and the saintsseeing us? Feel this chain! 'Tis virgin gold. I shall cut two ofthese heavy links off for thee."

"Ah!now thy discourse is to the point" And she handled the chaingreedily. "Why'tis as massy as the chain round the virgin'sneck at the conv - " She did not finish the word.

"Whisht!whisht! whisht! 'Tis it. And thou shalt have thy share. But betray menot."

"Monster!"cried Janetdrawing back from him with repugnance; "whatrobthe blessed Virgin of her chainand give it to an - "

"Youare none" cried Clement exultingly"or you had not reckedfor that-Mary!"

"Ah!ah! ah!"

"Thypatron saintwhose chain this issends me to greet thee"

Sheran screaming to the window and began to undo the shutters.

Herfingers trembledand Clement had time to debarass himself of hisboots and his hat before the light streamed in upon himHe then lethis cloak quietly falland stood before hera Dominican friarcalmand majestic as a statueand held his crucifix towering over herwith a lovingsadand solemn lookthat somehow relieved her of thephysical part of fearbut crushed her with religious terror andremorse. She crouched and cowered against the wall.

"Mary"said he gently; "one word! Are you happy?"

"Ashappy as I shall be in hell."

"Andthey are not happy at the convent; they weep for you."

"Forme?"

"Dayand night; above allthe Sister Ursula."

"PoorUrsula!" And the strayed nun began to weep herself at thethought of her friend.

"Theangels weep still more. Wilt not dry all their tears in earth andheaven and save thyself?"

"Ay!would I could; but it is too late."

"Satanavaunt" cried the monk sternly. "'Tis thy favouritetemptation; and thouMarylisten not to the enemy of manbelyingGodand whispering despair. I who come to save thee have been a fargreater sinner than thou. ComeMarysinthou seestis not sosweete'n in this worldas holiness; and eternity is at the door."

"Howcan they ever receive me again?"

"'Tistheir worthiness thou doubtest now. But in truth they pine for thee.'Twas in pity of their tears that Ia Dominicanundertook thistask; and broke the rule of my order by entering an inn; and broke itagain by donning these lay vestments. But all is well doneand quitfor a light penanceif thou wilt let us rescue thy soul from thisden of wolvesand bring thee back to thy vows."

Thenun gazed at him with tears in her eyes. "And thoua Dominicanhast done this for a daughter of St. Francis! Whythe Franciscansand Dominicans hate one another."

"Aymy daughter; but Francis and Dominic love one another."

Therecreant nun seemed struck and affected by this answer

Clementnow reminded her how shocked she had been that the Virgin should berobbed of her chain. "But see now" said he"theconventand the Virgin toothink ten times more of their poor nunthan of golden chains; for they freely trusted their chain to me astrangerthat peradventure the sight of it might touch their lostMary and remind her of their love" Finally he showed her withsuch terrible simplicity the end of her present courseand on theother hand so revived her dormant memories and better feelingsthatshe kneeled sobbing at his feetand owned she had never knownhappiness nor peace since she betrayed her vows; and said she wouldgo back if be would go with her; but alone she dared notcould not:even if she reached the gate she could never enter. How could sheface the abbess and the sisters? He told her he would go with her asjoyfully as the shepherd bears a strayed lamb to the fold.

Butwhen he urged her to go at onceup sprung a crop of thoseprodigiously petty difficulties that entangle her sexlike silkennetsliker iron cobwebs.

Hequietly swept them aside.

"Buthow can I walk beside thee in this habit?"

"Ihave brought the gown and cowl of thy holy order. Hide thy braverywith them. And leave thy shoes as I leave these" (pointing tohis horseman's boots).

Shecollected her jewels and ornaments.

"Whatare these for?" inquired Clement.

"Topresent to the conventfather."

"Theirsource is too impure."

"But"objected the penitent"it would be a sin to leave them here.They can be sold to feed the poor."

"Maryfix thine eye on this crucifixand trample those devilish baublesbeneath thy feet."

Shehesitated; but soon threw them down and trampled on them.

"Nowopen the window and fling them out on that dunghill. 'Tis well done.So pass the wages of sin from thy handsits glittering yoke from thyneckits pollution from thy soul. Awaydaughter of St. Franciswetarry in this vile place too long." She followed him.

Butthey were not clear yet.

Atfirst the landlord was so astounded at seeing a black friar and agrey nun pass through his kitchen from the insidethat he gapedandmuttered"Whywhat mummery is this?" But he sooncomprehended the matterand whipped in between the fugitives and thedoor. "What ho! Reuben! Carl! Gavin! here is a false friarspiriting away our Janet."

Themen came running in with threatening looks. The friar rushed at themcrucifix in hand. "Forbear" he criedin a stentorianvoice. "She is a holy nun returning to her vows. The hand thattouches her cowl or her robe to stay herit shall witherhis bodyshall lie unburiedcursed by Romeand his soul shall roast ineternal fire." They shrank back as if a flame had met them. "Andthou - miserable panderer!"

Hedid not end the sentence in wordsbut seized the man by the neckand strong as a lion in his moments of hot excitementhurled himfuriously from the door and sent him all across the roompitchinghead foremost on to the stone floor; then tore the door open andcarried the screaming nun out into the road

"Hush!poor trembler" he gasped; "they dare not molest thee onthe highroad. Away!"

Thelandlord lay terrifiedhalf stunnedand bleeding; and Marythoughshe often looked back apprehensivelysaw no more of him.

Onthe road he bade her observe his impetuosity.

"Hitherto"said hewe have spoken of thy faults: now for mine. My choler isungovernable; furious. It is by the grace of God I am not a murdererI repent the next moment; but a moment too late is all too late.Maryhad the churls laid finger on theeI should have scatteredtheir brains with my crucifixOhI know myself; go to; and trembleat myself. There lurketh a wild beast beneath this black gown ofmine"

"Alasfather" said Marywere you other than you are I had been lost.To take me from that place needed a man wary as a fox; yet bold as alion"

Clementreflected. "This much is certain: God chooseth well his fleshlyinstruments; and with imperfect hearts doeth His perfect workGlorybe to God!"

Whenthey were near the convent Mary suddenly stoppedand seized thefriar's armand began to cry. He looked at her kindlyand told hershe had nothing to fear. It would be the happiest day she had everspent. He then made her sit down and compose herself till he shouldreturnHe entered the conventand desired to see the abbess.

"Mysistergive the glory to God: Mary is at the gate."

Theastonishment and delight of the abbess were unbounded.

Sheyielded at once to Clement's earnest request that the road ofpenitence might be smoothed at first to this unstable wandererandafter some oppositionshe entered heartily into his views as to heractual reception. To give time for their little preparations Clementwent slowly backand seating himself by Mary soothed her; and heardher confession

"Theabbess has granted me that you shall propose your own penance."

"Itshall be none the lighter" said she

"Itrow not" said he; "but that is future: to-day is given tojoy alone."

Hethen led her round the building to the abbess's postern.

Asthey went they heard musical instruments and singing

"'Tisa feastday" said Mary; "and I come to mar it"

"Hardly"said Clementsmiling; "seeing that you are the queen of thefete."

"Ifather? what mean you?"

"WhatMaryhave you never heard that there is more joy in heaven over onesinner that repenteththan over ninety-nine just persons which needno repentance? Now this convent is not heaven; nor the nuns angels;yet are there among thensome angelic spirits; and these sing andexult at thy return. But here methinks comes one of them; for I seeher hand trembles at the keyhole."

Thepostern was flung openand in a moment Sister Ursula clung sobbingand kissing round her friend's neck. The abbess followed moresedatelybut little less moved.

Clementbade them farewell. They entreated him to stay; but he told them withmuch regret he could not. He had already tried his good BrotherJerome's patienceand must hasten to the river; and perhaps sail forEngland to-morrow.

SoMary returned to the foldand Clement strode briskly on towards theRhineand England.

Thiswas the man for whom Margaret's boy lay in wait with her letter.

THEHEARTH

Andthat letter was one of those simpletouching appeals only her sexcan write to those who have used them cruellyand they love them.She began by telling him of the birth of the little boyand thecomfort he had been to her in all the distress of mind his long andstrange silence had caused her. She described the little Gerardminutelynot forgetting the mole on his little finger.

"Knowyou any one that hath the like on his? If you only saw him you couldnot choose but be proud of him; all the mothers in the street do envyme; but I the wives; for thou comest not to us. My own Gerardsomesay thou art dead. But if thou wert deadhow could I be alive?Others say that thouwhom I love so trulyart false. But this willI believe from no lips but thine. My father loved thee well; and ashe lay a-dying he thought he saw thee on a great riverwith thy faceturned towards thy Margaretbut sore disfigured. Is't soperchance?Have cruel men scarred thy sweet face? or hast thou lost one of thyprecious limbs? Whythen thou hast the more need of meand I shalllove thee not worsealas! thinkest thou a woman's love is light as aman's? but betterthan I did when I shed those few drops from myarmnot worth the tearsthou didst shed for them; mindest thou?'tis not so very long agonedear Gerard."

Theletter continued in this strainand concluded without a word ofreproach or doubt as to his faith and affection. Not that she wasfree from most distressing doubts; but they were not certainties; andto show them might turn the scaleand frighten him away from herwith fear of being scolded. And of this letter she made soft Luke thebearer.

Soshe was not an angel after all.

Lukemingled with the passengers of two boatsand could hear nothing ofGerard Eliassoen. Nor did this surprise him

Hewas more surprised whenat the third attempta black friar said tohimsomewhat severely"And what would you with him you callGerard Eliassoen?"

"Whyfatherif he is alive I have got a letter for him."

"Humph!"said Jerome. "I am sorry for itHoweverthe flesh is weak.Wellmy sonhe you seek will be here by the next boator the nextboat after. And if he chooses to answer to that name - After allIam not the keeper of his conscience."

"Goodfatherone plain wordfor Heaven's sakeThis Gerard Eliassoen ofTergou - is he alive?"

"Humph!Whycerteshe that went by that name is alive"

"Wellthenthat is settled" said Luke drily. But the next moment hefound it necessary to run out of sight and blubber.

"Ohwhy did the Lord make any women?" said he to himself. "Iwas content with the world till I fell in love. Here his littlefinger is more to her than my whole bodyand he is not deadAndhere I have got to give him this." He looked at the letter anddashed it on the ground. But he picked it up again with a spitefulsnatchand went to the landlordwith tears in his eyesand beggedfor workThe landlord declinedsaid he had his own people.

"OhI seek not your money" said Luke"I only want some workto keep me from breaking my heart about another man's lass."

"Goodlad! good lad!" exploded the landlord; and found him lots ofbarrels to mend - on these termsAnd he coopered with fury in theinterval of the boats coming down the Rhine.

 

CHAPTERLXXXIII

THEHEARTH

Waitingan earnest letter seldom leaves the mind in statu quo.

Margaretin hersvented her energy and her faith in her dying father'svisionor illusion; and when this was doneand Luke goneshewondered at her credulityand her conscience pricked her about Luke;and Catherine came and scolded herand she paid the price of falsehopesand elevation of spiritsby falling into deeper despondency.She was found in this state by a staunch friend she had lately madeJoan Ketel. This good woman came in radiant with an idea.

"MargaretI know the cure for thine ill: the hermit of Gouda a wondrous holymanWhyhe can tell what is comingwhen he is in the mood."

"AyI have heard of him" said Margaret hopelessly. Joan with somedifficulty persuaded her to walk out as far as Goudaand consult thehermit. They took some butter and eggs in a basketand went to hiscave.

Whathad made the pair such fast friends? Jorian some six weeks ago fellill of a bowel disease; it began with raging pain; and when this wentoffleaving him weakan awkward symptom succeeded; nothingeitherliquid or solidwould stay in his stomach a minute. The doctor said:"He must die if this goes on many hours; therefore boil thou nowa chicken with a golden angel in the waterand let him sup that!"Alas! Gilt chicken broth shared the fate of the humbler viandsitspredecessors. Then the cure steeped the thumb of St. Sergius in beefbroth. Same result. Then Joan ran weeping to Margaret to borrow somelinen to make his shroud. "Let me see him" said Margaret.She came in and felt his pulse. "Ah!" said she"Idoubt they have not gone to the root. Open the window! Art stiflinghim; now change all his linen.

"Alackwomanwhat for? Why foul more linen for a dying man?" objectedthe mediaeval wife.

"Doas thou art bid" said Margaret dullyand left the room.

Joansomehow found herself doing as she was bid. Margaret returned withher apron full of a flowering herb. She made a decoctionand took itto the bedside; and before giving it to the patienttook a spoonfulherselfand smacked her lips hypocritically. "That is fair"said hewith a feeble attempt at humour. "Why'tis sweetandnow 'tis bitter." She engaged him in conversation as soon as hehad taken it. This bitter-sweet stayed by him. Seeing which she builton it as cards are built: mixed a very little schiedam in the thirdspoonfuland a little beaten yoke of egg in the seventh. And so withthe patience of her sex she coaxed his body out of Death's grasp; andfinallyNaturebeing patted on the backinstead of kicked underthe bedset Jorian Ketel on his legs again. But the doctress madethem both swear never to tell a soul her guilty deed. "Theywould put me in prisonaway from my child."

Thesimple that saved Jorian was called sweet feverfew. She gathered itin his own garden. Her eagle eye had seen it growing out of thewindow.

Margaretand Joanthenreached the hermit's caveand placed their presenton the little platform. Margaret then applied her mouth to theaperturemade for that purposeand said: "Holy hermitwebring thee butter and eggs of the best; and Ia poor deserted girlwifeyet no wifeand mother of the sweetest babecome to pray theetell me whether he is quick or deadtrue to his vows or false."

Afaint voice issued from the cave: "Trouble me not with thethings of earthbut send me a holy friarI am dying."

"Alas!"cried Margaret. "Is it e'en sopoor soul? Then let us in tohelp thee"

"Saintsforbid! Thine is a woman's voice. Send me a holy friar."

Theywent back as they came. Joan could not help saying"Are womenimps o' darkness thenthat they must not come anigh a dying bed?"

ButMargaret was too deeply dejected to say anything. Joan applied roughconsolation. But she was not listened to till she said: "AndJorian will speak out ere long; he is just on the boilHe is verygrateful to theebelieve it."

"Seeingis believing" replied Margaretwith quiet bitterness.

"Notbut what he thinks you might have saved him with something more outo' the common than yon. 'A man of my inches to be cured wi'feverfew' says he. 'Whyif there is a sorry herb' says he. 'WhyIwas thinking o' pulling all mine upsays he. I up and told himremedies were none the better for being far-fetched; you and feverfewcured himwhen the grand medicines came up faster than they wentdown. So says I'You may go down on your four bones to feverfew.'But indeedhe is grateful at bottom; you are all his thought and allhis chat. But he sees Gerard's folk coming around yeand goodfriendsand he said only last night - "

"Well?"

"Hemade me vow not to tell ye."

"Pritheetell me."

"Wellhe said: 'An' if I tell what little I knowit won't bring him backand it will set them all by the ears. I wish I had more headpiece'said he; 'I am sore perplexed. But least said is soonest mended.' Yonis his favourite word; he comes back to't from a mile off."

Margaretshook her head. "Aywe are wading in deep watersmy poor babeand me."

Itwas Saturday night and no Luke.

"PoorLuke!" said Margaret. "It was very good of him to go onsuch an errand."

"Heis one out of a hundred" replied Catherine warmly.

"Motherdo you think he would be kind to little Gerard?"

"Iam sure he would. So do you be kinder to him when he comes back! Willye now?"

"Ay"

THECLOISTER

BrotherClementdirected by the nunsavoided a bend in the riverandstriding lustily forwardreached a station some miles nearer thecoast than that where Luke lay in wait for Gerard Eliassoen. And thenext morning he started earlyand was in Rotterdam at noon. He madeat once for the portnot to keep Jerome waiting.

Heobserved several monks of his order on the quay; he went to them; butJerome was not amongst them. He asked one of them whether Jerome hadarrived? "Surelybrotherwas the reply.

"Pritheewhere is he?"

"Where?Whythere!" said the monkpointing to a ship in full sail. AndClement now noticed that all the monks were looking seaward.

"Whatgone without me! OhJerome! Jerome!" cried hein a voice ofanguish. Several of the friars turned round and stared.

"Youmust be brother Clement" said one of them at length; and onthis they kissed him and greeted him with brotherly warmthand gavehim a letter Jerome had charged them with for him. It was a hastyscrawl. The writer told him coldly a ship was about to sail forEnglandand he was loth to lose time. He (Clement) might follow ifhe pleasedbut he would do much better to stay behindand preach tohis own country folk. "Give the glory to Godbrother; you havea wonderful power over Dutch hearts; but you are no match for thosehaughty islanders: you are too tender.

"Knowthou that on the way I met onewho asked me for thee under the namethou didst bear in the world. Be on thy guard! Let not the worldcatch thee again by any silken netAnd rememberSolitudeFastingand Prayer are the swordspearand shield of the soul. Farewell."

Clementwas deeply shocked and mortified at this contemptuous desertionandthis cold-blooded missive.

Hepromised the good monks to sleep at the conventand to preachwherever the prior should appoint (for Jerome had raised him to theskies as a preacher)and then withdrew abruptlyfor he was cut tothe quickand wanted to be alone. He asked himselfwas there someincurable fault in himrepulsive to so true a son of Dominic? Or wasJerome himself devoid of that Christian Love which St. Paul hadplaced above Faith itself? Shipwrecked with himand saved on thesame fragment of the wreck: his pupilhis penitenthis son in theChurchand now for four hundred miles his fellow-traveller inChrist; and to be shaken off like dirtthe first opportunitywithharsh and cold disdain. "Why worldly hearts are no colder norless trusty than this" said he. "The only one that everreally loved me lies in a grave hard by. Fly mefly to Englandmanborn without a heart; I will go and pray over a grave atSevenbergen."

Threehours later he passed Peter's cottage. A troop of noisy children wereplaying about the doorand the house had been repairedand a newouthouse added. He turned his head hastily awaynot to disturb apicture his memory treasured; and went to the churchyard.

Hesought among the tombstones for Margaret's. He could not find it. Hecould not believe they had grudged her a tombstoneso searched thechurchyard all over again.

"Ohpoverty! stern poverty! Poor soulthou wert like me no one was leftthat loved theewhen Gerard was gone."

Hewent into the churchand after kissing the stepsprayed long andearnestly for the soul of her whose resting-place be could not find.

Comingout of the church he saw a very old man looking over the littlechurchyard gate. He went towards himand asked him did he live inthe place.

"Fourscore and twelve yearsman and boy. And I come here every day oflateholy fatherto take a peep. This is where I look to bide erelong."

"Mysoncan you tell me where Margaret lies?"

"Margaret?There's a many Margarets here."

"MargaretBrandt. She was daughter to a learned physician."

"Asif I didn't know that" said the old man pettishly. "Butshe doesn't lie here. Bless youthey left this a longful while ago.Gone in a momentand the house empty. Whatis she dead? Margaret aPeter dead? Now only think on't. Like enow; like enowThey greattowns do terribly disagree wi' country folk."

"Whatgreat townsmy son?"

"Well'twas Rotterdam they went to from hereso I heard tell; or was itAmsterdam? NayI trow 'twas Rotterdam? And gone there to die!"

Clementsighed.

"'Twasnot in her face nowthat I saw. And I can mostly tellAlacktherewas a blooming young flower to be cut off so soonand all old weedlike me left standing still. Wellwellshe was a May rose yon; dearheartwhat a winsome smile she hadand-

"Godbless theemy son" said Clement; "farewell!" and hehurried away.

Hereached the convent at sunsetand watched and prayed in the chapelfor Jerome and Margaret till it was long past midnightand his soulhad recovered its cold calm.

 

CHAPTERLXXXIV

THEHEARTH

Thenext daySundayafter masswas a bustling day at Catherine's housein the Hoog Straet. The shop was now quite readyand Cornelis andSybrandt were to open it next day; their names were above the door;also their sign. a white lamb sucking a gilt sheep. Eli had comeandbrought them some more goods from his store to give them a goodstart. The hearts of the parents glowed at what they were doingandthe pair themselves walked in the garden togetherand agreed theywere sick of their old lifeand it was more pleasant to make moneythan waste it; they vowed to stick to business like wax. Theirmother's quick and ever watchful ear overheard this resolutionthrough an open windowand she told EliThe family supper was toinclude Margaret and her boyand be a kind of inaugural feastatwhich good trade advice was to flow from the eldersand good wine tobe drunk to the success of the converts to Commerce from Agriculturein its unremunerative form - wild oats. So Margaret had come over tohelp her mother-in-lawand also to shake off her own deep languor;and both their faces were as red as the fire. Presently in came Joanwith a salad from Jorian's garden.

"Hecut it for youMargaret; you are all his chat; I shall be jealous. Itold him you were to feast to-day. But ohlasswhat a sermon in thenew kerk! Preaching? I never heard it till this day."

"WouldI had been there then" said Margaret; "for I am dried upfor want of dew from heaven."

"Whyhe preacheth again this afternoon. But mayhap you are wanted here."

"Notshe" said Catherine. "Comeaway ye goif y'are minded."

"Indeed"said Margaret"methinks I should not be such a damper at tableif I could come to 't warm from a good sermon."

"Thenyou must be brisk" observed Joan. "See the folk arewending that wayand as I livethere goes the holy friar. Ohblessus and save usMargaret; the hermit! We forgot." And thisactive woman bounded out of the houseand ran across the roadandstopped the friar. She returned as quickly. "ThereI was benton seeing him nigh hand"

"Whatsaid he to thee?"

"Sayshe'My daughterI will go to him ere sunsetGod willing.' Thesweetest voice. But ohmy mistresseswhat thin cheeks for a youngmanand great eyesnot far from your colourMargaret."

"Ihave a great mind to go hear him" said Margaret. "But mycap is not very cleanand they will all be there in their snow-whitemutches."

"Theretake my handkerchief out of the basket" said Catherine; "youcannot have the childI want him for my poor Kate. It is one of herill days."

Margaretreplied by taking the boy upstairs. She found Kate in bed.

"Howart thousweetheart? NayI need not ask. Thou art in sore pain;thou smilest soSee' I have brought thee one thou lovest."

"Twoby my way of counting" said Katewith an angelic smile. Shehad a spasm at that moment would have made some of us roar likebulls.

"Whatin your lap?" said Margaretanswering a gesture of thesuffering girl. "Nayhe is too heavyand thou in such pain."

"Ilove him too dear to feel his weight" was the reply.

Margarettook this opportunityand made her toilet. "I am for the kerk"said she"to hear a beautiful preacher." Kate sighed. "Anda minute agoKateI was all agog to go; that is the way with methis month past; up and downup and downlike the waves of theZuyder Zee. I'd as lieve stay aside thee; say the word!"

"Nay"said Kate"prithee go; and bring me back every word. Well-a-daythat I cannot go myself." And the tears stood in the patient'seyes. This decided Margaretand she kissed Katelooked under herlashes at the boyand heaved a little sigh. "I trow I mustnot" said she. "I never could kiss him a little; and myfather was dead against waking a child by day or night When 'tis thypleasure to wakespeak thy aunt Kate the two new words thou hastgotten." And she went outlooking lovingly over her shoulderand shut the door inaudibly.

"Joanyou will lend me a handand peel these?" said Catherine.

"ThatI willdame." And the cooking proceeded with silent vigour.

"NowJoanthem which help me cook and serve the meatthey help me eatit; that's a rule."

"There'sworse laws in Holland than that. Your will is my pleasuremistress;for my Luke hath got his supper i' the air. He is digging to-day bygood luck." (Margaret came down.)

"Ehwomanyon is an ugly trade. There she has just washed her face andgi'en her hair a turnand now who is like her? Rotterdamthat foryou!" and Catherine snapped her fingers at the capital. "Giveus a busshussy! Now mindEli won't wait supper for the duke.Whereforeloiter not after your kerk is over."

Joanand she both followed her to the doorand stood at it watching her agood way down the street. For among homely housewives going out o'doors is half an incident. Catherine commented on the launch: "ThereJoanit is almost to me as if I had just started my own daughter forkerkand stood a looking after: the which I've done it manys andmanys the times. Joanlassshe won't hear a word against ourGerard; and he be alivehe has used her cruel; that is why my bowelsyearn for the poor wench. I'm older and wiser than she; and so I'llwed her to yon simple Lukeand there an end. What's one grandchild?"

 

CHAPTERLXXXV

THECLOISTER AND THE HEARTH

Thesermon had begun when Margaret entered the great church of St.Laurens. It was a huge edificefar from completed. Churches were notbuilt in a year. The side aisles were roofedbut not the mid aislenor the chancel; the pillars and arches were pretty perfectand someof them whitewashed. But only one window in the whole church wasglazed; the rest were at present great jagged openings in the outerwalls.

Butto-day all these uncouth imperfections made the church beautiful. Itwas a glorious summer afternoonand the sunshine came broken intomarvellous forms through those irregular openingsand playedbewitching pranks upon so many broken surfaces.

Itstreamed through the gaping wallsand clove the dark cool sideaisles with rivers of gloryand dazzled and glowed on the whitepillars beyond.

Andnearly the whole central aisle was chequered with light and shade inbroken outlines; the shades seeming cooler and more soothing thanever shade wasand the lights like patches of amber diamond animatedwith heavenly fire. And abovefrom west to east the blue sky vaultedthe lofty aisleand seemed quite close.

Thesunny caps of the women made a sea of white contrasting exquisitelywith that vivid vault of blue.

Forthe mid aislehuge as it waswas crammedyet quite still. Thewords and the mellowgentleearnest voice of the preacher held themmute.

Margaretstood spellbound at the beautythe devotion"the great calm"She got behind a pillar in the north aisle; and therethough shecould hardly catch a worda sweet devotional langour crept over herat the loveliness of the place and the preacher's musical voice; andbalmy oil seemed to trickle over the waves in her heart and smooththem. So she leaned against the pillar with eyes half closedand allseemed soft and dreamy.

Shefelt it good to be there.

Presentlyshe saw a lady leave an excellent place opposite to get out of thesunwhich was indeed pouring on her head from the window. Margaretwent round softly but swiftly; and was fortunate enough to get theplace. She was now beside a pillar of the south aisleand not abovefifty feet from the preacher. She was at his sidea little behindhimbut could hear every word.

Herattentionhoweverwas soon distracted by the shadow of a man's headand shoulders bobbing up and down so drolly she had some ado to keepfrom smiling.

Yetit was nothing essentially droll.

Itwas the sexton digging.

Shefound that out in a moment by looking behind herthrough the windowto whence the shadow came.

Nowas she was looking at Jorian Ketel diggingsuddenly a tone of thepreacher's voice fell upon her ear and her mind so distinctlyitseemed literally to strike herand make her vibrate inside and out.

Herhand went to her bosomso strange and sudden was the thrill. Thenshe turned roundand looked at the preacher. His back was turnedand nothing visible but his tonsure. She sighed. That tonsurebeingall she sawcontradicted the tone effectually.

Yetshe now leaned a little forward with downcast eyeshoping for thataccent again. It did not come. But the whole voice grew strangelyupon her. It rose and fell as the preacher warmed; and it seemed towaken faint echoes of a thousand happy memories. She would not lookto dispel the melancholy pleasure this voice gave her.

Presentlyin the middle of an eloquent periodthe preacher stopped.

Shealmost sighed; a soothing music had ended. Could the sermon be endedalready? No; she looked round; the people did not move.

Agood many faces seemed now to turn her way.' She looked behind hersharply. There was nothing there.

Startledcountenances near her now eyed the preacher. She followed theirlooks; and therein the pulpitwas a face as of a staring corpse.The friar's eyesnaturally largeand made larger by the thinness ofhis cheekswere dilated to supernatural sizeand glaring her wayout of a bloodless face.

Shecringed and turned fearfully round: for she thought there must besome terrible thing near her. No; there was nothing; she was theoutside figure of the listening crowd.

Atthis moment the church fell into commotionFigures got up all overthe buildingand craned forward; agitated faces by hundreds gazedfrom the friar to Margaretand from Margaret to the friar. Theturning to and fro of so many caps made a loud rustle. Then cameshrieks of nervous womenand buzzing of men; and Margaretseeing somany eyes levelled at hershrank terrified behind the pillarwithone scaredhurried glance at the preacher.

Momentaryas that glance wasit caught in that stricken face an expressionthat made her shiver.

Sheturned faintand sat down on a heap of chips the workmen had leftand buried her face in her handsThe sermon went on again. She heardthe sound of it; but not the sense. She tried to thinkbut her mindwas in a whirlThought would fix itself in no shape but this: thaton that prodigy-stricken face she had seen a look stamped. And therecollection of that look now made her quiver from head to foot.

Forthat look was "RECOGNITION."

Thesermonafter wavering some timeended in a strain of exaltednayfeverish eloquencethat went far to make the crowd forget thepreacher's strange pause and ghastly glare. Margaret mingled hastilywith the crowdand went out of the church with them.

Theywent their ways home. But she turned at the doorand went into thechurchyard; to Peter's grave. Poor as she wasshe had given him aslab and a headstone. She sat down on the slaband kissed it. Thenthrew her apron over her head that no one might distinguish her byher hair.

"Father"she said"thou hast often heard me say I am wading in deepwaters; but now I begin to think God only knows the bottom of them.I'll follow that friar round the worldbut I'll see him at arm'slength. And he shall tell me why he looked towards me like a dead manwakened; and not a soul behind me. Ohfather; you often praised mehere: speak a word for me there. For I am wading in deep waters."

Herfather's tomb commanded a side view of the church door. And on thattomb she satwith her face coveredwaylaying the holy preacher.

 

CHAPTERLXXXVI

THECLOISTER AND THE HEARTH

Thecool church chequered with sunbeams and crowned with heavenly purplesoothed and charmed Father Clementas it did Margaret; and moreitcarried his mind direct to the Creator of all good and pure delights.Then his eye fell on the great aisle crammed with his country folk; athousand snowy capsfiligreed with gold. Many a hundred leagues hehad travelled; but seen nothing like themexcept snow. In themorning he had thundered; but this sweet afternoon seemed out of tunewith threats. His bowels yearned over that multitude; and he musttell them of God's love: poor soulsthey heard almost as little ofit from the pulpit then a days as the heathen used. He told them theglad tidings of salvation. The people hung upon his gentleearnesttongue.

Hewas not one of those preachers who keep gyrating in the pulpit likethe weathercock on the steeple. He moved the hearts of others morethan his own body. But on the other hand he did not entirely neglectthose who were in bad places. And presentlywarm with this themethat none of all that multitude might miss the joyful tidings ofChrist's lovehe turned him towards the south aisle.

Andtherein a stream of sunshine from the windowwas the radiant faceof Margaret Brandt. He gazed at it without emotion. It just benumbedhimsoul and body.

Butsoon the words died in his throatand he trembled as he glared atit.

Therewith her auburn hair bathed in sunbeamsand glittering like thegloriola of a saintand her face glowing doublywith its ownbeautyand the sunshine it was set in-stood his dead love.

Shewas leaning very lightly against a white column. She was listeningwith tenderdowncast lashes.

Hehad seen her listen so to him a hundred times.

Therewas no change in her. This was the blooming Margaret he had left:only a shade riper and more lovely.

Hestarted at her with monstrous eyes and bloodless cheeks.

Thepeople died out of his sight. He heardas in a dreama rustling andrising all over the church; but could not take his prodigy-strickeneyes off that faceall lifeand bloomand beautyand thatwondrous auburn hair glistening gloriously in the sun.

Hegazedthinking she must vanish.

Sheremained

Allin a moment she was looking at himfull.

Herown violet eyes!!

Atthis he was beside himselfand his lips parted to shriek out hernamewhen she turned her head swiftlyand soon after vanishedbutnot without one more glancewhichthough rapid as lightningencountered hisand left her couching and quivering with her mind ina whirland him panting and gripping the pulpit convulsively. Forthis glance of hersthough not recognitionwas the startledinquiringnamelessindescribable look that precedes recognition. Hemade a mighty effortand muttered something nobody could understand:then feebly resumed his discourse; and stammered and babbled on awhiletill by degrees forcing himselfnow she was out of sighttolook on it as a vision from the other worldhe rose into a state ofunnatural excitementand concluded in a style of eloquence thatelectrified the simple; for it bordered on rhapsody.

Thesermon endedhe sat down on the pulpit stoolterribly shakenButpresently an idea very characteristic of the time took possession ofhimHe had sought her grave at Sevenbergen in vain. She had now beenpermitted to appear to himand show him that she was buried here;probably hard by that very pillarwhere her spirit had showed itselfto him.

Thisidea once adopted soon settled on his mind with all the Certainty ofa fact. And he felt he had only to speak to the sexton (whom to hisgreat disgust he had seen working during the sermon)to learn thespot where she was laid

Thechurch was now quite empty. He came down from the pulpit and steppedthrough an aperture in the south wall on to the grassand went up tothe sexton. He knew him in a moment. But Jorian never suspected thepoor ladwhose life he had savedin this holy friar. The loss ofhis shapely beard had wonderfully altered the outline of his face.This had changed him even more than his tonsurehis short hairsprinkled with premature greyand his cheeks thinned and paled byfasts and vigils.

"Myson" said Friar Clement softly"if you keep any memory ofthose whom you lay in the earthprithee tell me is any Christianburied inside the churchnear one of the pillars?"

"Nayfather" said Jorian"here in the churchyard lie buriedall that buried be. Why?"

"NomatterPrithee tell me then where lieth Margaret Brandt."

"MargaretBrandt?" And Jorian stared stupidly at the speaker.

"Shedied about three years agoand was buried here."

"Ohthat is another matter" said Jorian; "that was before mytime; the vicar could tell youlikely; if so be she was agentlewomanor at the least rich enough to pay him his fee."

"Alasmy sonshe was poor (and paid a heavy penalty for it); but born ofdecent folk. Her fatherPeterwas a learned physician; she camehither from Sevenbergen - to die."

WhenClement had uttered these words his head sunk upon his breastand heseemed to have no power nor wish to question Jorian more. I doubteven if he knew where he was. He was lost in the past.

Jorianput down his spadeand standing upright in the graveset his armsakimboand said sulkily"Are you making a fool of meholysiror has some wag been making a fool of you!" And havingrelieved his mind thushe proceeded to dig againwith a certainvigour that showed his somewhat irritable temper was ruffled.

Clementgazed at him with a puzzled but gently reproachful eyefor the tonewas rudeand the words unintelligible. Good-naturedthough crustyJorian had not thrown up three spadefuls ere he became ashamed of ithimself. "Whywhat a base churl am I to speak thus to theeholy father; and thou a standing therelooking at me like a lamb.Aha! I have it; 'tis Peter Brandt's grave you would fain seenotMargaret's. He does lie here; hard by the west door. There; I'll showyou." And he laid down his spadeand put on his doublet andjerkin to go with the friar.

Hedid not know there was anybody sitting on Peter's tomb. Still lessthat she was watching for this holy friar.

PietroVanucci and Andrea did not recognize him without his beard. The factisthat the beard which has never known a razor grows in a verypicturesque and characteristic formand becomes a feature in theface; so that its removal may in some cases be an effectual disguise.

 

CHAPTERLXXXVII

WhileJorian was putting on his doublet and jerkin to go to Peter's tombhis tongue was not idle. "They used to call him a magician outSevenbergen way. And they do say he gave 'em a touch of his trade atparting; told 'em he saw Margaret's lad a-coming down Rhine in braveclothes and store o' moneybut his face scarred by foreign glaiveand not altogether so many arms and legs as a went away wi'. Butdear heartnought came on't. Margaret is still wearying for her lad;and Peterhe lies as quiet as his neighbours; not but what she hathput a stone slab over himto keep him where he is: as you shallsee."

Heput both hands on the edge of the graveand was about to raisehimself out of itbut the friar laid a trembling hand on hisshoulderand said in a strange whisper -

"Howlong since died Peter Brandt?"

"Abouttwo monthsWhy?"

"Andhis daughter buried himsay you?"

"NayI buried himbut she paid the fee and reared the stone."

"Then- but he had just one daughter; Margaret?"

"Nomore leastwaysthat he owned to."

"Thenyou think Margaret is - is alive?"

"Think?WhyI should be dead else. Riddle me that."

"Alashow can I? You love her!"

"Nomore than reasonbeing a married manand father of four more sturdyknaves like myself. Naythe answer isshe saved my life scarce sixweeks agone. Now had she been dead she couldn't ha' kept me alive.Bless your heartI couldn't keep a thing on my stomach; nor doctorscouldn't make me. My Joan says"Tis time to buy thee a shroud.''I dare sayso 'tis' says I; but try and borrow one first.' Incomes my ladythis Margaretwhich she died three years agoby yourway on'topens the windowsmakes 'em shift me where I layandcures me in the twinkling of a bedpost; but wi' what? there pinchesthe shoe; with the scurviest herband out of my own gardentoo;with sweet feverfew. A herbquotha'tis a weed; leastways it was aweed till it cured mebut now whene'er I pass my hunch I doffbonnetand says I'fly service t'ye.' Whyhow nowfatheryoulook wondrous paleand now you are redand now you are white? Whywhat is the matter? Whatin Heaven's nameis the matter?"

"Thesurprise - the joy - the wonder - the fear" gasped Clement.

"Whywhat is it to thee? Art thou of kin to Margaret Brandt?"

"Nay;but I knew one that loved her wellso well her death nigh killedhimbody and soul. And yet thou sayest she lives. And I believethee."

Jorianstaredand after a considerable silence said very gravely"Fatheryou have asked me many questionsand I have answered them truly; nowfor our Lady's sake answer me but two. Did you in very sooth know onewho loved this poor lass? Where?"

Clementwas on the point of revealing himselfbut he remembered Jerome'sletterand shrank from being called by the name he had borne in theworld.

"Iknew him in Italy" said he.

"Ifyou knew him you can tell me his name" said Jorian cautiously.

"Hisname was Gerard Eliassoen."

"Ohbut this is strange. Staywhat made thee say Margaret Brandt wasdead?"

"Iwas with Gerard when a letter came from Margaret Van Eyck. The lettertold him she he loved was dead and buried. Let me sit downfor mystrength fails meFoul play! Foul play!"

"Father"said Jorian" I thank Heaven for sending thee to meAysit yedown; ye do look like a ghost; ye fast overmuch to be strong. My mindmisgives me; methinks I hold the clue to this riddleand if I dothere be two knaves in this town whose heads I would fain batter topieces as I do this mould;" and he clenched his teeth and raisedhis long spade above his headand brought it furiously down upon theheap several times. "Foul play? You never said a truer word i'your life; and if you know where Gerard is nowlose no timebutshow him the trap they have laid for him. Mine is but a dull headbut whiles the slow hound puzzles out the scent - go toAnd I dothink you and I ha' got hold of two ends o' one stickand a mainfoul one."

Jorianthenafter some of those useless preliminaries men of his classalways deal incame to the point of the story. He had been employedby the burgomaster of Tergou to repair the floor of an upper room inhis houseand when it was almost doneComing suddenly to fetch awayhis toolscuriosity had been excited by some loud words belowandhe had lain down on his stomachand heard the burgomaster talkingabout a letter which Cornelis and Sybrandt were minded to convey intothe place of one that a certain Hans Memling was taking to Gerard;"and it seems their will was goodbut their stomach was small;so to give them courage the old man showed them a drawer full ofsilverand if they did the trick they should each put a hand inandhave all the silver they could hold in't. Wellfather"continued Jorian"I thought not much on't at the timeexceptfor the bargain itselfthat kept me awake mostly all night. Thinkon't! Next morning at peep of day who should I see but my mastersCornelis and Sybrandt come out of their house each with a black eye.'Oho' says I'what yon Hans hath put his mark on ye; well now Ihope that is all you have got for your pains.' Didn't they make forthe burgomaster's house? I to my hiding-place."

Atthis part of Jorian's revelation the monk's nostril dilatedand hisrestless eye showed the suspense he was in.

"Wellfather" continued Jorian"the burgomaster brought theminto that same room. He had a letter in his hand; but I am noscholar; howeverI have got as many eyes in my head as the Popehathand I saw the drawer openedand those two knaves put in each ahand and draw it out full. Andsaints in gloryhow they tried tohold moreand moreand more o' yon stuff! And Sybrandthe haddaubed his hand in something stickyI think 'twas glueand he madeshift to carry one or two pieces away a sticking to the back of hishandhe! he! he! 'Tis a sin to laugh. So you see luck was on thewrong side as usual; they had done the trick; but how they did itthatmethinkswill never be known till doomsday. Go tothey lefttheir immortal jewels in yon drawer. Wellthey got a handful ofsilver for them; the devil had the worst o' yon bargain. Therefatherthat is off my mind; often I longed to tell it some onebutI durst not to the women; or Margaret would not have had a friendleft in the world; for those two black-hearted villains are thefavourites'Tis always so. Have not the old folk just taken a bravenew shop for them in this very townin the Hoog Straet? There mayyou see their signa gilt sheep and a lambkin; a brace of wolvessucking their dam would be nigher the mark. And there the wholefamily feast this day; oh'tis a fine world. Whatnot a wordholyfather; you sit there like stoneand have not even a curse to bestowon themthe stony-hearted miscreants. Whatwas it not enough thepoor lad was all alone in a strange land; must his own flesh andblood go and lie away the one blessing his enemies had left him? Andthen think of her pining and pining all these yearsand sitting atthe window looking adown the street for Gerard! and so constantsotenderand true: my wife says she is sure no woman ever loved a mantruer than she loves the lad those villains have parted from her; andthe day never passes but she weeps salt tears for him. And when Ithinkthatbut for those two greedy lying knavesyon winsome ladwhose life I savedmight be by her side this day the happiest he inHolland; and the sweet lassthat saved my lifemight be sittingwith her cheek upon her sweetheart's shoulderthe happiest she inHolland in place of the saddest; ohI thirst for their bloodthenastysneakinglyingcoggingcowardlyheartlessbowelless - hownow?"

Themonk started wildly uplivid with fury and despairand rushedheadlong from the place with both hands clenched and raised on high.So terrible was this inarticulate burst of furythat Jorian's punyire died out at sight of itand he stood looking dismayed after thehuman tempest he had launched.

Whilethus absorbed he felt his arm grasped by a smalltremulous hand.

Itwas Margaret Brandt.

Hestarted; her coming there just then seemed so strange. She had waitedlong on Peter's tombstonebut the friar did not comeSo she wentinto the church to see if he was there still. She could not find him.

Presentlygoing up the south aislethe gigantic shadow of a friar came rapidlyalong the floor and part of a pillarand seemed to pass through her.She was near screaming; but in a moment remembered Jorian's shadowhad come in so from the churchyard; and tried to clamber out thenearest way. She did sobut with some difficulty; and by that timeClement was just disappearing down the street; yetso expressive attimes is the body as well as the faceshe could see he was greatlyagitated. Jorian and she looked at one anotherand at the wildfigure of the distant friar.

"Well?"said she to Joriantrembling.

"Well"said he"you startled me. How come you here of all people?"

"Isthis a time for idle chat? What said he to you? He has been speakingto you; deny it not."

"Girlas I stand herehe asked me whereabout you were buried in thischurchyard."

"Ah!"

"Itold himnowherethank Heaven: you were alive and saving other folkfrom the churchyard."

"Well?"

"Wellthe long and the short ishe knew thy Gerard in Italy; and a lettercame saying you were dead; and it broke thy poor lad's heart. Let mesee; who was the letter written by? Ohby the demoiselle van Eyck.That was his way of it. But I up and told him nay; 'twas neitherdemoiselle nor dame that penned yon liebut Ghysbrecht Van Swietenand those foul knavesCornelis and Sybrandt; these changed the trueletter for one of their own; I told him as how I saw the wholevillainy done through a chink; and nowif I have not been and toldyou!"

"Ohcruel! cruel! But he lives. The fear of fears is gone. Thank God!"

"Aylass; and as for thine enemiesI have given them a dig. For yonfriar is friendly to Gerardand he is gone to Eli's housemethinks.For I told him where to find Gerard's enemies and thineand wow buthe will give them their lesson. If ever a man was mad with rageitsyon. He turned black and whiteand parted like a stone from a sling.Girlthere was thunder in his eye and silence on his lips. Made mecold a did."

"OhJorianwhat have you done?" cried Margaret. "Quick! quick!help me thitherfor the power is gone all out of my body. You knowhim not as I do. Ohif you had seen the blow he gave Ghysbrecht; andheard the frightful crash! Comesave him from worse mischief. Thewater is deep enow; but not bloody yet;come!"

Heraccents were so full of agony that Jorian sprang out of the grave andcame with herhuddling on his jerkin as he went.

Butas they hurried alonghe asked her what on earth she meant? "Italk of this friarand you answer me of Gerard."

"Mansee you notthis is Gerard!"

"ThisGerard? what mean ye?"

"Imeanyon friar is my boy's father. I have waited for him longJorian. Wellhe is come to me at last. And thank God for it. Ohmypoor child! QuickerJorianquicker!"

"Whythou art mad as he. Stay! By St. Bavonyon was Gerard's face; 'twasnought like it; yet somehow - 'twas it. Come on! come on! let me seethe end of this."

"Theend? How many of us will live to see that?"

Theyhurried along in breathless silencetill they reached Hoog Straet.

ThenJorian tried to reassure her. "You are making your own trouble"said he; who says he has gone thither? more likely to the convent toweep and praypoor soul. Ohcursedcursed villains!"

"Didnot you tell him where those villains bide?"

"Aythat I did"

"ThenquickerohJorianquicker. I see the house. Thank God and all thesaintsI shall be in time to calm him. I know what I'll say to him;Heaven forgive me! Poor Catherine; 'tis of her I think: she has beena mother to me."

Theshop was a corner housewith two doors; one in the main streetforcustomersand a house-door round the corner.

Margaretand Jorian were now within twenty yards of the shopwhen they hearda roar insidelike as of some wild animaland the friar burst outwhite and ragingand went tearing down the street.

Margaretscreamedand sank fainting on Jorian's arm.

Jorianshouted after him"Staymadmanknow thy friends." But hewas deafand went headlongshaking his clenched fists highhigh inthe air.

"Helpme ingood Jorian" moaned Margaretturning suddenly calm."Let me know the worst; and die."

Hesupported her trembling limbs into the house.

Itseemed unnaturally still; not a sound.

Jorian'sown heart beat fast.

Adoor was before himunlatched. He pushed it softly with his lefthandand Margaret and he stood on the threshold.

Whatthey saw there you shall soon know.

 

CHAPTERLXXXVIII

Itwas supper-time. Eli's family were collected round the board;Margaret only was missing. To Catherine's surpriseEli said he wouldwait a bit for her.

"WhyI told her you would not wait for the duke"

"Sheis not the duke; she is a poorgood lassthat hath waited notminutesbut yearsfor a graceless son of mine. You can put the meaton the board all the same; then we can fall towithout farther losso' timewhen she does come."

Thesmoking dishes smelt so savoury that Eli gave way. "She willcome if we begin" said he; "they always doComesit yedownMistress Joan; y'are not here for a slaveI trowbut a guest.ThereI hear a quick step off coversand fall to."

Thecovers were withdrawnand the knives brandished.

Thenburst into the roomnot the expected Margaretbut a Dominicanfriarlivid with rage.

Hewas at the table in a momentin front of Cornelis and Sybrandtthrew his tall body over the narrow tableand with two handshovering above their shrinking headslike eagles over a quarryhecursed them by namesoul and bodyin this world and the next. Itwas an age eloquent in curses; and this curse was so fullso minuteso blightingblastingwitheringand tremendousthat I am afraidto put all the words on paper. "Cursed be the lips" heshrieked"which spoke the lie that Margaret was dead; may theyrot before the graveand kiss white-hot iron in hell thereafter;doubly cursed be the hands that changed those lettersand be theystruck off by the hangman's knifeand handle hell fire for ever;thrice accursed be the cruel hearts that did conceive that damnedlieto part true love for ever; may they sicken and wither on earthjoylesslovelesshopeless; and wither to dust before their time;and burn in eternal fire" He cursed the meat at their mouthsand every atom of their bodiesfrom their hair to the soles of theirfeet. Then turning from the coweringshuddering pairwho had almosthid themselves beneath the tablehe tore a letter out of his bosomand flung it down before his father.

"Readthatthou hard old manthat didst imprison thy sonreadand seewhat monsters thou hast brought into the worldThe memory of mywrongs and hers dwell with you all for ever! I will meet you again atthe judgment day; on earth ye will never see me more."

Andin a momentas he had comeso he was goneleaving them stiffandcoldand white as statues round the smoking board.

Andthis was the sight that greeted Margaret's eyes and Jorian's - palefigures of men and women petrified around the untasted foodasEastern poets feigned.

Margaretglanced her eye roundand gasped out"Ohjoy! all here; noblood hath been shed. Ohyou cruelcruel men! I thank God he hathnot slain you"

Atsight of her Catherine gave an eloquent scream; then turned her headaway. But Eliwho had just cast his eye over the false letterandbegun to understand it allseeing the other victim come in at thatvery moment with her wrongs reflected in her sweetpale facestarted to his feet in a transport of rageand shouted"Standclearand let me get at the traitorsI'll hang for them" Andin a moment he whipped out his short swordand fell upon them.

"Fly!"screamed Margaret. "Fly!"

Theyslipped howling under the tableand crawled out the other side.

Butere they could get to the doorthe furious old man ran round andintercepted them. Catherine only screamed and wrung her hands; yournotables are generally useless at such a time; and blood wouldcertainly have flowedbut Margaret and Jorian seized the fiery oldman's armsand held them with all their mightwhilst the pair gotclear of the house; then they let him go; and he went vainly ragingafter them out into the street.

Theywere a furlong offrunning like hares.

Hehacked down the board on which their names were writtenand broughtit indoorsand flung it into the chimney-place. Catherine wassitting rocking herself with her apron over her head. Joan had run toher husband. Margaret had her arms round Catherine's neck; and paleand pantingwas yet making efforts to comfort her.

Butit was not to be done"Ohmy poor children!" she cried."Ohmiserable mother! 'Tis a mercy Kate was ill upstairs.ThereI have lived to thank God for that!" she criedwith afresh burst of sobs. "It would have killed her. He had betterhave stayed in Italyas come home to curse his own flesh and bloodand set us all by the ears.

"Ohhold your chatwoman" cried Eli angrily; "you are stillon the side of the ill-doerYou are cheap served; your weakness madethe rogues what they are; I was for correcting them in their youth:for sore illssharp remedies; but you still sided with their faultsand undermined meand baffled wise severity. And youMargaretleave comforting her that ought rather to comfort you; for what isher hurt to yours? But she never had a grain of justice under herskin; and never will. So come thou to methat am thy father fromthis hour."

Thiswas a command; so she kissed Catherineand went tottering to himand he put her on a chair beside himand she laid her feeble head onhis honest breast; but not a tear: it was too deep for that.

"Poorlamb" said he. After a while - "Comegood folks"said true Eliin a broken voiceto Jorian and Joan"we are ina little troubleas you see; but that is no reason you shouldstarve. For our Lady's sakefall to; and add not to my grief thereputation of a churl. What the dickens!" added hewith asudden ghastly attempt at stout-heartedness"the more knaves Ihave the luck to get shut ofthe more my need of true men and womento help me clear the dishand cheer mine eye with honest faces aboutme where else were gaps. Fall toI do entreat ye."

Catherinesobbingbacked his request. Poorsimpleantiquehospitable souls!Jorianwhose appetiteespecially since his illnesswas very keenwas for acting on this hospitable invitation; but Joan whispered aword in his earand he instantly drew back"NayI'll touch nomeat that Holy Church hath cursed."

"InsoothI forgot" said Eli apologetically. "My sonwho wasreared at my tablehath cursed my victuals. That seems strange.Wellwhat God willsman must bow to."

Thesupper was flung out into the yard.

Joriantook his wife homeand heavy sadness reigned in Eli's house thatnight.

Meantimewhere was Clement?

Lyingat full length upon the floor of the convent churchwith his lipsupon the lowest step of the altarin an indescribable state ofterrormiserypenitenceand self-abasement: through all whichstruggled gleams of joy that Margaret was alive.

Nightfell and found him lying there weeping and praying; and morning wouldhave found him there too; but he suddenly remembered thatabsorbedin his own wrongs and Margaret'she had committed another sinbesides intemperate rage. He had neglected a dying man.

Herose instantlygroaning at his accumulated wickednessand set outto repair the omission. The weather had changed; it was raining hardand when he got clear of the townhe heard the wolves baying; theywere on the footBut Clement was himself againor nearly; hethought little of danger or discomforthaving a shameful omission ofreligious duty to repair: he went stoutly forward through rain anddarkness.

Andas he wenthe often beat his breastand cried"MEA CULPA! MEACULPA!"

 

CHAPTERLXXXIX

Whatthat sensitive mindand tender conscienceand loving heartandreligious soulwent through even in a few hoursunder a situationso sudden and tremendousis perhaps beyond the power of words topaint.

Fancyyourself the man; and then put yourself in his place! Were I to writea volume on itwe should have to come to that at last.

Ishall relate his next two overt acts. They indicate his state of mindafter the first fierce tempest of the soul had subsided. Afterspending the night with the dying hermit in giving and receiving holyconsolationshe set out not for Rotterdambut for Tergou. He wentthere to confront his fatal enemy the burgomasterand by means ofthat parchmentwhose historyby-the-by was itself a romancetomake him disgorge; and give Margaret her own.

Heatedand dustyhe stopped at the fountainand there began to eat hisblack bread and drink of the water. But in the middle of his frugalmeal a female servant came runningand begged him to come and shriveher dying masterHe returned the bread to his walletand followedher without a word.

Shetook him - to the Stadthouse.

Hedrew back with a little shudder when he saw her go in.

Buthe almost instantly recovered himselfand followed her into thehouseand up the stairs. And there in bedpropped up by pillowslay his deadly enemylooking already like a corpse.

Clementeyed him a moment from the doorand thought of all the towerthewoodthe letter. Then he said in a low voice"Pax vobiscum!"He trembled a little while he said it.

Thesick man welcomed him as eagerly as his weak state permitted. "ThankHeaventhou art come in time to absolve me from my sinsfatherandpray for my soulthou and thy brethren."

"Myson" said Clement"before absolution cometh confession.In which act there must be no reservationas thou valuest thy soul'sweal. Bethink theethereforewherein thou hast most offended Godand the Churchwhile I offer up a prayer for wisdom to direct thee."

Clementthen kneeled and prayed; and when he rose from his kneeshe said toGhysbrechtwith apparent calmness"My sonconfess thy sins."

"Ahfather" said the sick man"they are many and great."

"Greatthenbe thy penitencemy son; so shalt thou find God's mercygreat."

Ghysbrechtput his hands togetherand began to confess with every appearance ofcontrition.

Heowned he had eaten meat in mid-Lent. He had often absented himselffrom mass on the Lord's dayand saints' days; and had trifled withother religious observanceswhich he enumerated with scrupulousfidelity.

Whenhe had donethe friar said quietly"'Tis wellmy sonThesebe faults. Now to thy crimesThou hadst done better to begin withthem."

"Whyfatherwhat crimes lie to my account if these be none?"

"AmI confessing to theeor thou to me?" said Clement somewhatseverely.

"Forgivemefather! WhysurelyI to you. But I know not what you callcrimes."

"Theseven deadly sinsart thou clear of them?"

"Heavenforefend I should be guilty of them. I know them not by name."

"Manydo them all that cannot name them. Begin with that one which leads tolyingtheftand murder."

"Iam quit of that oneany way. How call you it?"

"AVARICEmy son."

"Avarice?Ohas to thatI have been a saving man all my day; but I have kepta good tableand not altogether forgotten the poor. ButalasI ama great sinnerMayhap the next will catch meWhat is the next?"

"Wehave not yet done with this one. Bethink theethe Church is not tobe trifled with."

"Alas!am I in a condition to trifle with her now? Avarice? Avarice?"

Helooked puzzled and innocent.

"Hastthou ever robbed the fatherless?" inquired the friar.

"Me?robbed the fatherless?" gasped Ghysbrecht; "not that Imind."

"Oncemoremy sonI am forced to tell thee thou art trifling with theChurch. Miserable man! another evasionand I leave theeand fiendswill straightway gather round thy bedand tear thee down to thebottomless pit."

"Ohleave me not! leave me not!" shrieked the terrified old man."The Church knows all. I must have robbed the fatherless. I willconfess. Who shall I begin with? My memory for names is shaken."

Thedefence was skilfulbut in this case failed.

"Hastthou forgotten Floris Brandt?" said Clement stonily.

Thesick man reared himself in bed in a pitiable state of terror. "Howknew you that?" said he.

"TheChurch knows many things" said Clement coldly"and bymany ways that are dark to theeMiserable impenitentyou called herto your sidehoping to deceive herYou said'I will not confess tothe cure but to some friar who knows not my misdeeds. So will I cheatthe Church on my deathbedand die as I have lived' But Godkinderto thee than thou art to thyselfsent to thee one whom thou couldstnot deceive. He has tried thee; He was patient with theeand warnedthee not to trifle with Holy Church; but all is in vain; thou canstnot confess; for thou art impenitent as a stone. Diethenas thouhast lived. Methinks I see the fiends crowding round the bed fortheir prey. They wait but for me to go. And I go."

Heturned his back; but Ghysbrechtin extremity of terrorcaught himby the frock. "Ohholy manmercy! stay. I will confess allall. I robbed my friend FlorisAlas! would it had ended there; forhe lost little by me; but I kept the land from Peter his sonandfrom MargaretPeter's daughter. Yet I was always going to give itback; but I couldn'tI couldn't."

"Avaricemy sonavariceHappy for thee 'tis not too late."

"No;I will leave it her by will. She will not have long to wait for itnow; not above a month or two at farthest."

"Forwhich month's possession thou wouldst damn thy soul for everThoufool!"

Thesick man groanedand prayed the friar to be reasonable.

Thefriar firmlybut gently and persuasivelypersistedand withinfinite patience detached the dying man's gripe from another'sproperty. There were times when his patience was triedand he was onthe point of thrusting his hand into his bosom and producing thedeedwhich he had brought for that purpose; but after yesterday'soutbreak he was on his guard against choler; and to concludeheconquered his impatience; he conquered a personal repugnance to themanso strong as to make his own flesh creep all the time he wasstruggling with this miser for his soul; and at lastwithout a wordabout the deedhe won upon him to make full and prompt restitution.

Howthe restitution was made will be briefly related elsewhere: alsocertain curious effects produced upon Ghysbrecht by it; and when andon what terms Ghysbrecht and Clement parted.

Ipromised to relate two acts of the latterindicative of his mind.

Thisis one. The other is told in two words.

Assoon as he was quite sure Margaret had her ownand was a rich woman-

Hedisappeared.

 

CHAPTERXC

Itwas the day after that terrible scene: the little house in the HoogStraet was like a graveand none more listless and dejected thanCatherineso busy and sprightly by natureAfter dinnerher eyesred with weepingshe went to the convent to try and soften Gerardand lay the first stone at least of a reconciliation.

Itwas some time before she could make the porter understand whom shewas seeking. Eventually she learned he had left late last nightandwas not expected backShe went sighing with the news to Margaret.She found her sitting idlelike one with whom life had lost itssavour; she had her boy clasped so tight in her armsas if he wasall she had leftand she feared some one would take him too.Catherine begged her to come to the Hoog Straet.

"Whatfor?" sighed Margaret. "You cannot but say to yourselvesshe is the cause of all."

"Naynay" said Catherine"we are not so ill-heartedand Eliis so fond on you; you will maybe soften him."

"Ohif you think I can do any goodI'll come" said Margaretwitha weary sigh.

Theyfound Eli and a carpenter putting up another name in place ofCornelis and Sybrandt's; and what should that name be but MargaretBrandt's.

Withall her affection for Margaretthis went through poor Catherine likea knife. "The bane of one is another's meat" said she.

"Canhe make me spend the money unjustly?" replied Margaret coldly.

"Youare a good soul" said Catherine. "Ayso bestsith he isthe strongest."

Thenext day Giles dropped inand Catherine told the story all in favourof the black sheepand invited his pity for themanathematized bytheir brotherand turned on the wide world by their father. ButGiles's prejudices ran the other way; he heard her outand told herbluntly the knaves had got off cheap; they deserved to be hanged atMargaret's door into the bargainand dismissing them with contemptcrowed with delight at the return of his favourite. "I'll showhim" said hewhat 'tis to have a brother at court with a heartto serve a friendand a head to point the way."

"BlesstheeGiles" murmured Margaret softly.

"Thouwast ever his stanch frienddear Giles" said little Kate; "butalackI know not what thou canst do for him now"

Gileshad left themand all was sad and silent againwhen a well-dressedman opened the door softlyand asked was Margaret Brandt here.

"D'yehearlass? You are wanted" said Catherine briskly. In her theGossip was indestructible.

"Wellmother" said Margaret listlessly"and here I am."

Ashuffling of feet was heard at the doorand a colourlessfeeble oldman was assisted into the room. It was Ghysbrecht Van Swieten. Atsight of him Catherine shriekedand threw her apron over her headand Margaret shuddered violentlyand turned her head swiftly awaynot to see him.

Afeeble voice issued from the strange visitor's lips"Goodpeoplea dying man hath come to ask your forgiveness."

"Cometo look on your workyou mean" said Catherinetaking down herapron and bursting out sobbing. "Therethere. she is fainting;look to herEliquick."

"Nay"said Margaretin a feeble voice"the sight of him gave me aturnthat is allPritheelet him say his sayand go; for he isthe murderer of me and mine."

"Alas"said Ghysbrecht"I am too feeble to say it standing. and no onebiddeth me sit down."

Eliwho had followed him into the houseinterfered hereand saidhalfsullenlyhalf apologetically"Wellburgomaster'tis not ourwont to leave a visitor standing whiles we sit. But manmanyouhave wrought us too much ill." And the honest fellow's voicebegan to shake with anger he fought hard to containbecause it washis own house.

ThenGhysbrecht found an advocate in one who seldom spoke in vain in thatfamily.

Itwas little Kate. "Fathermother" said she"my dutyto youbut this is not well. Death squares all accountsAnd see younot death in his face? I shall not live longgood friends; and histime is shorter than mine."

Elimade haste and set a chair for their dying enemy with his own hands.Ghysbrecht's attendants put him into it. "Go fetch the boxes"said he. They brought in two boxesand then retiredleaving theirmaster alone in the family he had so cruelly injured.

Everyeye was now bent on himexcept Margaret's. He undid the boxes withunsteady fingersand brought out of one the title-deeds of aproperty at Tergou. "This land and these houses belonged toFloris Brandtand do belong to thee of righthis granddaughter.These I did usurp for a debt long since defrayed with interest. TheseI now restore their rightful owner with penitent tears. In this otherbox are three hundred and forty golden angelsbeing the rent andfines I have received from that land more than Floris Brandt's debtto meI have kept it comptstill meaning to be just one day; butAvarice withheld mepraygood peopleagainst temptation! I was notborn dishonest: yet you see."

"Wellto be sure!" cried Catherine. "And you the burgomaster!Hast whipt good store of thieves in thy day. However" said sheon second thoughts"'tis better late than neverWhatMargaretart deaf? The good man hath brought thee back thine own.Art a rich woman. Alackwhat a mountain o' gold!"

"Bidhim keep land and goldand give me back my Gerardthat he stolefrom me with his treason" said Margaretwith her head stillaverted.

"Alas!"said Ghysbrechtwould I couldwhat I can I have done. Is it nought?It cost me a sore struggle; and I rose from my last bed to do itmyselflest some mischance should come between her and her rights."

"Oldman" said Margaret"since thouwhose idol is pelfhastdone thisGod and the saints willas I hopeforgive thee. As formeI am neither saint nor angelbut only a poor womanwhose heartthou hast brokenSpeak to himKatefor I am like the dead."

Katemeditated a little while; and then her soft silvery voice fell like asoothing melody upon the air"My poor sister hath a sorrow thatriches cannot healGive her timeGhysbrecht; 'tis not in nature sheshould forgive thee all. Her boy is fatherless; and she is neithermaidwifenor widow; and the blow fell but two days synethat laidher heart a bleeding."

Asingle heavy sob from Margaret was the comment to these words.

"Thereforegive her time! And ere thou diestshe will forgive thee allayeven to pleasure methat haply shall not be long behind theeGhysbrecht. Meantimewewhose wounds be sorebut

notso deep as hersdo pardon theea penitent and a dying man; and Ifor onewill pray for thee from this hour; go in peace!"

Theirlittle oracle had spoken; it was enough. Eli even invited him tobreak a manchet and drink a stoup of wine to give him heart for hisjourney.

ButGhysbrecht declinedand said what he had done was a cordial to him"Man seeth but a little way before himneighbour. This land Iclung so to it was a bed of nettles to me all the time. 'Tis gone;and I feel happier and livelier like for the loss on't."

Hecalled his menand they lifted him into the litter.

Whenhe was gone Catherine gloated over the money. She had never seen somuch togetherand was almost angry with Margaretfor "sittingout there like an image." And she dilated on the advantages ofmoney.

Andshe teased Margaret till at last she prevailed on her to come andlook at it.

"Betterlet her bemother" said Kate"How can she relish goldwith a heart in her bosom liker lead?" But Catherine persisted.

Theresult wasMargaret looked down at all her wealth with wonderingeyes. Then suddenly wrung her hands and cried with piercing anguish"TOO LATE! TOO LATE!" And shook off her leaden despondencyonly to go into strong hysterics over the wealth that came too lateto be shared with him she loved.

Alittle of this golda portion of this landa year or two agowhenit was as much her own as now; and Gerard would have never left herside for Italy or any other place.

Toolate! Too late!"

 

CHAPTERXCI

Notmany days after this came the news that Margaret Van Eyck was deadand buried. By a will she had made a year beforeshe left all herpropertyafter her funeral expenses and certain presents to ReichtHeynesto her dear daughter Margaret Brandtrequesting her to keepReicht as long as unmarried.

Bythis will Margaret inherited a furnished houseand pictures andsketches that in the present day would be a fortune: among thepictures was one she valued more than a gallery of others.

Itrepresented "A Betrothal." The solemnity of the ceremonywas marked in the grave face of the manand the demure complacencyof the woman. She was painted almost entirely by Margaret Van Eyckbut the rest of the picture by Jan. The accessories were exquisitelyfinishedand remain a marvel of skill to this day. Margaret Brandtsent word to Reicht to stay in the house till such time as she couldfind the heart to put foot in itand miss the face and voice thatused to meet her there; and to take special care of the picture "inthe little cubboord:" meaning the diptych.

Thenext thing wasLuke Peterson came homeand heard that Gerard was amonk.

Hewas like to go mad with joy. He came to Margaretand said - heedmistress. If he cannot marry you I can."

"You?"said Margaret. "WhyI have seen him."

"Buthe is a friar."

"Hewas my husbandand my boy's father long ere he was a friar. And Ihave seen himI've seen him."

Lukewas thoroughly puzzled. "I'll tell you what" said he; "Ihave got a cousin a lawyer. I'll go and ask him whether you aremarried or single."

"NayI shall ask my own heartnot a lawyer. So that is your regard forme; to go making me the town talkohfie!"

"Thatis done already without a word from me."

"Butnot by such as seek my respect. And if you do itnever come nigh meagain."

"Ay"said Lukewith a sigh"you are like a dove to all the rest;but you are a hardhearted tyrant to me."

"'Tisyour own faultdear Lukefor wooing me. That is what lets me frombeing as kind to you as I desireLukemy bonny ladlisten to me. Iam rich now; I can make my friends happythough not myself. Lookround the streetlook round the parish. There is many a quean in itfairer than I twice toldand not spoiled with weeping. Look high;and take your choice. Speak you to the lass herselfand I'll speakto the mother; they shall not say thee nay; take my word for't."

"Isee what ye mean" said Luketurning very red. "But if Ican't have your likingI will none o' your money. I was your servantwhen you were poor as I; and poorer. No; if you would liever be afriar's leman than an honest man's wifeyou are not the woman I tookyou for: so part we withouten malice: seek you your comfort on yonroadwhere never a she did find it yetand for meI'll live anddie a bachelor. Good evenmistress."

"Farewelldear Luke; and God forgive you for saying that to me."

Forsome days Margaret dreadedalmost as much as she desiredthe cominginterview with Gerard. She said to herself"I wonder not hekeeps away a while; for so should I." Howeverhe would hear hewas a father; and the desire to see their boy would overcomeeverything. "And" said the poor girl to herself"ifso be that meeting does not kill meI feel I shall be better afterit than I am now."

Butwhen day after day went byand he was not heard ofa freezingsuspicion began to crawl and creep towards her mind. What if hisabsence was intentional? What if he had gone to some cold-bloodedmonks his fellowsand they had told him never to see her more? Theconvent had ere this shown itself as merciless to true lovers as thegrave itself.

Atthis thought the very life seemed to die out of her.

Andnow for the first time deep indignation mingled at times with hergrief and apprehension. "Can he have ever loved me? To run fromme and his boy without a word! Whythis poor Luke thinks more of methan he does."

Whileher mind was in this stateGiles came roaring. "I've hit theclout; our Gerard is Vicar of Gouda."

Avery brief sketch of the dwarf's court life will suffice to preparethe reader for his own account of this feat. Some months before hewent to court his intelligence had budded. He himself dated thechange from a certain 8th of Junewhenswinging by one hand alongwith the week's washing on a tight rope in the drying groundsomething went crack inside his head; and lo! intellectual powersunchained. At court his shrewdness and bluntness of speechcoupledwith his gigantic voice and his small staturemade him a Power:without the last item I fear they would have conducted him to thatunpopular gymnasiumthe gallows. The young Duchess of BurgundyandMarie the heiress apparentboth petted himas great ladies havepetted dwarfs in all ages; and the court poet melted butter by thesix-foot ruleand poured enough of it down his back to stew Goliahin. He even amplifiedversifiedand enfeebled certain rough andready sentences dictated by Giles.

Thecentipedal prolixity that resulted went to Eli by letterthusentitled-
"The high and puissant Princess Marie
ofBourgogne her lytel jantilman hys
complaynt of y' Coortand
praise of a rusticall lyfeversificatedand empapyred
byme the lytel jantilman's right lovynge
and obsequious servitoretc."

Butthe dwarf reached his climax by a happy mixture of mind and muscle;thus:

Theday before a grand court joust he challenged the Duke's giant to atrial of strength. This challenge made the gravest grinand arousedexpectation.

Gileshad a lofty pole planted readyand at the appointed hour went up itlike a squirreland by strength of arm made a right angle with hisbodyand so remained: then slid down so quicklythat the high andpuissant princess squeakedand hid her face in her handsnot to seethe demise of her pocket-Hercules.

Thegiant effected only about ten feetthen looked ruefully up andruefully downand descendedbathed in perspiration to argue thematter.

"Itwas not the dwarf's greater strengthbut his smaller body."

Thespectators received this excuse with loud derision. There was thefactthe dwarf was great at mounting a pole: the giant only great atexcuses. In short Giles had gauged their intellects: with his ownbody no doubt.

"Come"said he"an ye go to thatI'll wrestle yemy ladif so beyou will let me blindfold your eyne."

Thegiantsmarting under defeatand thinking he could surely recover itby this meansreadily consented.

"Madam"said Giles"see you yon blind Samson? At a signal from me heshall make me a low obeisanceand unbonnet to me."

"Howmay that bebeing blinded?" inquired a maid of honour.

"I'llwager on Giles for one" said the princess.

"Thatis my affair."

Whenseveral wagers were laid pro and conGiles hit the giant in thebread-basket. He went double (the obeisance)and his bonnet felloff.

Thecompany yelled with delight at this delicate stroke of witand Gilestook to his heels. The giant followed as soon as he could recover hisbreath and tear off his bandage. But it was too late; Giles hadprepared a little door in the wallthrough which he could passbutnot a giantand had coloured it so artfullyit looked like a wall;this door he tore openand went headlong throughleaving no vestigebut this posywritten very large upon the reverse of his trick door-
Long limbsbig bodypanting wit
By wee and wise is betand bit

Afterthis Giles became a Force. He shall now speak for himself.

FindingMargaret unable to believe the good newsand sceptical as to theaffairs of Holy Church being administered by dwarfshe narrated asfollows:

"Whenthe princess sent for me to her bedroom as of customto keep her outof languorI came not mirthful nor full of country dictsas is mywontbut dull as lead

"'Whywhat aileth thee?' quo' she. 'Art sick?' 'At heart' quo' I. 'Alashe is in love' quo' she. Whereat five brazen hussieswhich theycall them maids of honourdid giggle loud. 'Not so mad as that'said I'seeing what I see at court of women folk'

"'Thereladies' quo' the princess'best let him a be. 'Tis a liberalmannikinand still giveth more than he taketh of saucy words.'

"'Inall sadness' quo' she'what is the matter?'

"Itold her I was meditatingand what perplexed me wasthat other folkcould now and then keep their wordbut princes never.

"'Heyday'says she'thy shafts fly high this morn.' I told her'Ayfor theyhit the Truth'

"Shesaid I was as keen as keen; but it became not me to put riddles tohernor her to answer them. 'Stand aloof a bitmesdames' said she'and thou speak withouten fear;' for she saw I was in sad earnest.

"Ibegan to quake a bit; for mind yeshe can doff freedom and dondignity quicker than she can slip out of her dressing-gown intokirtle of state. But I made my voice so soft as honey (whereforesmilest?)and I said 'Madamone eveninga matter of five yearsagoneas ye sat with your motherthe Countess of Charoloiswho isnow in heavenworse luckyou wi' your luteand she wi' hertapestryor the likedo ye mind there came came into ye a fairyouth with a letter from a painter bodyone Margaret Van Eyck?"

"Shesaid she thought she did'Was it not a tall youthexceedingcomely?'

"'Aymadam' said I; 'he was my brother.'

"'Yourbrother?' said sheand did eye me like all over(What dost smileat?")

"SoI told her all that passed between her and Gerardand how she wasfor giving him a bishopric; but the good countess said'GentlyMarie! he is too young; and with that they did both promise him aliving: 'Yet' said I'he hath been a priest a long whileand noliving. Hence my bile.'

"'Alas!'said she"tis not by my good will; for all this thou hast saidis soothand more. I do remember my dear mother said to me"Seethou to it if I be not here."' So then she cried out'Aydearmotherno word of thine shall ever fall to the ground.'

"Iseeing her so ripesaid quickly'Madamthe Vicar of Gouda diedlast week.' (For when ye seek favours of the greatbehoves ye knowthe very thing ye aim at.)

"'Thenthy brother is vicar of Gouda' quo' she'so sure as I am heiress ofBurgundy and the Netherlands. Naythank me notgood Giles' quo'she'but my good mother. And I do thank thee for giving of mesomewhat to do for her memory. And doesn't she fall a weeping for hermother? And doesn't that set me off a-snivelling for my good brotherthat I love so dearand to think that a poor little elf like mecould yet speak in the ear of princesand make my beautiful brothervicar of Gouda; ehlassit is a bonny placeand a bonny manseandhawthorn in every bush at spring-tideand dog-roses and eglantine inevery summer hedge. I know what the poor fool affectsleave that tome."

Thedwarf began his narrative strutting to and fro before Margaretbuthe ended it in her arms; for she could not contain herselfbutcaught himand embraced him warmly. "OhGiles" she saidblushingand kissing him"I cannot keep my hands off theethybody it is so littleand thy heart so great. Thou art his truefriend. Bless thee! bless thee! bless thee! Now we shall see himagain. We have not set eyes on him since that terrible day."

"Gramercybut that is strange" said Giles. "Maybe he is ashamed ofhaving cursed those two vagabonesbeing our own flesh and bloodworse luck"

"Thinkyou that is why he hides?" said Margaret eagerly;

"Ayif he is hiding at all. HoweverI'll cry him by bellman.

"Naythat might much offend him."

"Whatcare I? Is Gouda to go vicarless and the manse in nettles?"

Andto Margaret's secret satisfactionGiles had the new vicar cried inRotterdam and the neighbouring towns. He easily persuaded Margaretthat in a day or two Gerard would be sure to hearand come to hisbenefice. She went to look at his manseand thought how comfortableit might be made for himand how dearly she should love to do it.

Butthe days rolled onand Gerard came neither to Rotterdam nor Gouda.Giles was mortifiedMargaret indignantand very wretched. She saidto herself"Thinking me deadhe comes homeand nowbecause Iam alivehe goes back to Italyfor that is where he has gone."

Joanadvised her to consult the hermit of Gouda.

"Whysure he is dead by this time."

"Yononebelike. But the cave is never long void; Gouda ne'er wants ahermit."

ButMargaret declined to go again to Gouda on such an errand"Whatcan he knowshut up in a cave? less than Ibelike. Gerard hath goneback t' Italy. He hates me for not being dead."

Presentlya Tergovian came in with a word from Catherine that Ghysbrecht VanSwieten had seen Gerard later than any one else. On this Margaretdetermined to go and see the house and goods that had been left herand take Reicht Heynes home to Rotterdam. And as may be supposedhersteps took her first to Ghysbrecht's house. She found him in hisgardenseated in a chair with wheels. He greeted her with a feeblevoicebut cordially; and when she asked him whether it was true hehad seen Gerard since the fifth of Augusthe replied"Gerardno morebut Friar Clement. AyI saw him; and blessed be the day heentered my house."

Hethen related in his own words his interview with Clement.

Hetold hermoreoverthat the friar had afterwards acknowledged hecame to Tergou with the missing deed in his bosom on purpose to makehim disgorge her land; but that finding him disposed towardspenitencehe had gone to work the other way.

"Wasnot this a saint; who came to right theebut must needs save hisenemy's soul in the doing it?"

Toher questionwhether he had recognized himhe said"I ne'ersuspected such a thing. 'Twas only when he had been three days withme that he revealed himselfListen while I speak my shame and hispraise.

"Isaid to him'The land is gone homeand my stomach feels lighter;but there is another fault that clingeth to me still;' then told Ihim of the letter I had writ at request of his brethrenI whoseplace it was to check them. Said I'Yon letter was writ to part twoloversand the devil aidingit hath done the foul work. Land andhouses I can give backbut yon mischief is done for ever.' 'Nay'quoth he'not for everbut for life. Repent it then while thoulivest.' 'I shall' said I'but how can God forgive it? I wouldnot' said I'were I He.'

'Yetwill He certainly forgive it' quoth he; 'for He is ten times moreforgiving than I amand I forgive thee.' I stared at him; and thenhe said softlybut quavering like'Ghysbrechtlook at me closer. Iam Gerardthe son of Eli.' And I lookedand lookedand at lastlo! it was Gerard. Verily I had fallen at his feet with shame andcontritionbut he would not suffer me. 'That became not mine yearsand hisfor a particular fault. I say not I forgive thee without astruggle' said he'not being a saint. But these three days thouhast spent in penitenceI have worn under thy roof in prayer; and Ido forgive thee.' Those were his very words."

Margaret'stears began to flowfor it was in a broken and contrite voice theold man told her this unexpected trait in her Gerard. He continued"And even with that he bade me farewell.

"'Mywork here is done now' said he. I had not the heart to stay him; forlet him forgive me ever sothe sight of me must be wormwood to him.He left me in peaceand may a dying man's blessing wait on himgowhere he will. Ohgirlwhen I think of his wrongsand thineandhow he hath avenged himself by saving this stained soul of minemyheart is broken with remorseand these old eyes shed tears by nightand day."

"Ghysbrecht"said Margaretweeping"since he hath forgiven theeI forgivethee too: what is doneis done; and thou hast let me know this daythat which I had walked the world to hear. But ohburgomasterthouart an understanding mannow help a poor womanwhich hath forgiventhee her misery.'

Shethen told him all that had befallen"And" said she"theywill not keep the living for him for ever. He bids fair to lose thatas well as break all our hearts."

"Callmy servant" cried the burgomasterwith sudden vigour.

Hesent him for a table and writing materialsand dictated letters tothe burgomasters in all the principal towns in Hollandand one to aPrussian authorityhis friend. His clerk and Margaret wrote themand he signed them. "There" said he"the mattershall be despatched throughout Holland by trusty couriersand as faras Basle in Switzerland; and fear notbut we will soon have thevicar of Gouda to his village."

Shewent home animated with fresh hopesand accusing herself ofingratitude to Gerard. "I value my wealth now" said she.

Shealso made a resolution never to blame his conduct till she shouldhear from his own lips his reason.

Notlong after her return from Tergou a fresh disaster befell. CatherineI must premisehad secret interviews with the black sheepthe veryday after they were expelled; and Cornelis followed her to Tergouand lived there on secret contributionsbut Sybrandt chose to remainin Rotterdam. Ere Catherine leftshe asked Margaret to lend her twogold angels. "For" said she"all mine are spent."Margaret was delighted to lend them or give them; but the words werescarce out of her mouth ere she caught a look of regret and distresson Kate's faceand she saw directly whither her money was going. Shegave Catherine the moneyand went and shut herself up with her boy.Now this money was to last Sybrandt till his mother could make somegood excuse for visiting Rotterdam againand then she would bringthe idle dog some of her own industrious savings.

ButSybrandthaving gold in his pocketthought it inexhaustible: andbeing now under no shadow of restraintled the life of a completesot; until one afternoonin a drunken froliche climbed on the roofof the stable at the inn he was carousing inand proceeded to walkalong ita feat he had performed many times when sober. But now hisunsteady brain made his legs unsteadyand he rolled down the roofand fell with a loud thwack on to an horizontal palingwhere he hunga moment in a semicircle; then toppled over and lay silent on thegroundamidst roars of laughter from his boon companions. When theycame to pick him up he could not stand; but fell down giggling ateach attempt.

Onthis they went staggering and roaring down the street with himandcarried him at great risk of another fall to the shop in the HoogStraet. For he had babbled his own shame all over the place.

Assoon as he saw Margaret he hiccupped out"Here is the doctorthat cures all hurtsa bonny lass." He also bade her observe hebore her no malicefor he was paying her a visit sore against hiswill. "Whereforeprithee send away these drunkardsand let youand me have t'other glassto drown all unkindness."

Allthis time Margaret was pale and red by turns at sight of her enemyand at his insolence; but one of the men whispered what had happenedand a streaky something in Sybrandt's face arrested her attention.

"Andhe cannot stand upsay you?"

"Acouldn't just now. Trycomrade! Be a man now!"

"Iam a better man than thou" roared Sybrandt. "I'll stand upand fight ye all for a crown."

Hestarted to his feetand instantly rolled into his attendant's armswith a piteous groan. He then began to curse his boon companionsanddeclare they had stolen away his legs. "He could feel nothingbelow the waist."

"Alaspoor wretch" said Margaret. She turned very gravely to the menand said"Leave him here. And if you have brought him to thisgo on your kneesfor you have spoiled him for life. He will neverwalk again; his back is broken."

Thedrunken man caught these wordsand the foolish look of intoxicationfledand a glare of anguish took its place. "The curse"he groaned; "the curse!"

Margaretand Reicht Heynes carried him carefullyand laid him on the softestbed.

"Imust do as he would do" whispered Margaret. "He was kindto Ghysbrecht."

Heropinion was verifiedSybrandt's spine was fatally injured; and helay groaning and helplessfed and tended by her he had so deeplyinjured.

Thenews was sent to Tergouand Catherine came over.

Itwas a terrible blow to her. Moreovershe accused herself as thecause. "Ohfalse wife; ohweak mother" she cried"Iam rightly punished for my treason to my poor Eli"

Shesat for hours at a time by his bedside rocking herself in silenceand was never quite herself again; and the first grey hairs began tocome in her poor head from that hour.

Asfor Sybrandtall his cry was now for GerardHe used to whine toMargaret like a suffering hound"Ohsweet MargaretohbonnyMargaretfor our Lady's sake find Gerardand bid him take his curseoff me. Thou art gentlethou art good; thou wilt entreat for meandhe will refuse thee nought."

Catherineshared his belief that Gerard could cure himand joined herentreaties to hisMargaret hardly needed this. The burgomaster andhis agents having failedshe employed her ownand spent money likewater. And among these agents poor Luke enrolled himself. She met himone day looking very thinand spoke to him compassionately. On thishe began to blubberand say he was more miserable than ever; hewould like to be good friends again upon almost any terms.

"Dearheart" said Margaret sorrowfullywhy can you not say toyourselfnow I am her little brotherand she is my oldmarriedsisterworn down with care? Say soand I will indulge theeand pettheeand make thee happier than a prince."

"WellI will" said Luke savagely"sooner than keep away fromyou altogether. But above all give me something to do. Perchance Imay have better luck this time."

"Getme my marriage lines" said Margaretturning sad and gloomy ina moment.

"Thatis as much as to sayget me him! for where they arehe is."

"Notso. He may refuse to come nigh me; but certes he will not deny a poorwomanwho loved him onceher lines of betrothal. How can she gowithout them into any honest man's house?"

"I'llget them you if they are in Holland" said Luke.

"Theyare as like to be in Rome" replied Margaret.

"Letus begin with Holland" observed Luke prudently.

Theslave of love was furnished with money by his soft tyrantandwandered hither and thitherCooperingand carpenteringand lookingfor Gerard. "I can't be worse if I find the vagabone" saidhe"and I may be a hantle better."

Themonths rolled onand Sybrandt improved in spiritbut not in body;he was Margaret's pensioner for life; and a long-expected sorrow fellupon poor Catherineand left her still more bowed down; and she losther fine hearty bustling wayand never went about the house singingnow; and her nerves were shakenand she lived in dread of someterrible misfortune falling on Cornelis. The curse was laid on him aswell as Sybrandt. She prayed Eliif she had been a faithful partnerall these yearsto take Cornelis into his house againand let herlive awhile at Rotterdam.

"Ihave good daughters here" said she; "but Margaret is sotenderand thoughtfuland the little Gerardhe is my joy; he growsliker his father every dayand his prattle cheers my heavy heart;and I do love children."

AndElisturdy but kindlyconsented sorrowfully.

Andthe people of Gouda petitioned the duke for a vicara real vicar."Ours cometh never nigh us" said they"this sixmonths past; our children they die unchristenedand our folkunburiedexcept by some chance comer." Giles' influence baffledthis just complaint once; but a second petition was preparedand hegave Margaret little hope that the present position could bemaintained a single day.

Sothen Margaret went sorrowfully to the pretty manse to see it for thelast timeere it should pass for ever into stranger's hands.

"Ithink he would have been happy here" she saidand turnedheart-sick away.

Ontheir returnReicht Heynes proposed to her to go and consult thehermit.

"What"said Margaret"Joan has been at you. She is the one forhermits. I'll goif 'tis but to show thee they know no more than wedo." And they went to the cave.

Itwas an excavation partly naturalpartly artificialin a bank ofrock overgrown by brambles. There was a rough stone door on hingesand a little window high upand two aperturesthrough one of whichthe people announced their gifts to the hermitand put questions ofall sorts to him; and when he chose to answerhis voice camedissonant and monstrous out at another small aperture.

Onthe face of the rock this line was cut -
Felix qui in Domino nixusab orbe fugit.

Margaretobserved to her companion that this was new since she was here last.

"Ay"said Reicht"like enough;" and looked up at it with awe.Writing even on paper she thought no trifle; but on rock! Shewhispered"Tis a far holier hermit than the last; he used tocome in the town now and thenbut this one ne'er shows his face tomortal man."

"Andthat is holiness?"

"Aysure."

"Thenwhat a saint a dormouse must be?"

"Outfiemistress. Would ye even a beast to a man?"

"ComeReicht" said Margaret"my poor father taught me overmuchSo I will e'en sit hereand look at the manse once more. Go thouforward and question thy solitaryand tell me whether ye get noughtoOr nonsense out of himfor 'twill be one."

AsReicht drew near the cave a number of birds flew out of it.She gavea little screamand pointed to the cave to show Margaret they hadcome thenceOn this Margaret felt sure there was no human being inthe caveand gave the matter no further attentionShe fell into adeep reverie while looking at the little manse.

Shewas startled from it by Reicht's hand upon her shoulderand a faintvoice saying"Let us go home."

"Yougot no answer at allReicht" said Margaret calmly.

"NoMargaret" said Reicht despondently. And they returned home.

Perhapsafter all Margaret had nourished some faint secret hope in her heartthough her reason had rejected itfor she certainly went home moredejectedly.

Justas they entered RotterdamReicht said"Stay! OhMargaretIam ill at deceit; but 'tis death to utter ill news to thee; I lovethee so dear."

"Speakoutsweetheart" said Margaret. "I have gone through somuchI am almost past feeling any fresh trouble."

"Margaretthe hermit did speak to me."

"Whata hermit there? among all those birds."

"Ay;and doth not that show him a holy man?"

"I'God's namewhat said he to theeReicht?"

"Alas!MargaretI told him thy storyand I prayed him for our Lady's saketell me where thy Gerard isAnd I waited long for an answerandpresently a voice came like a trumpet: 'Pray for the soul of Gerardthe son of Eli!"

"Ah!"

"Ohwoe is me that I have this to tell theesweet Margaret! bethink theethou hast thy boy to live for yet."

"Letme get home" said Margaret faintly.

Passingdown the Brede Kirk Straet they saw Joan at the door. Reicht said toher"Ehwomanshe has been to your hermitand heard no goodnews."

"Comein" said Joaneager for a gossip.

Margaretwould not go in; but she sat down disconsolate on the lowest step butone of the little external staircase that led into Joan's houseandlet the other two gossip their fill at the top of it.

"Oh"said Joanwhat yon hermit says is sure to be soothHe is that holyI am toldthat the very birds consort with him."

"Whatdoes that prove?" said Margaret deprecatingly. "I have seenmy Gerard tame the birds in winter till they would eat from hishand."

Alook of pity at this parallel passed between the other twobut theywere both too fond of her to say what they thought.

Joanproceeded to relate all the marvellous tales she had heard of thishermit's sanctity; how he never came out but at nightand prayedamong the wolvesand they never molested him; and now he bade thepeople not bring him so much food to pamper his bodybut to bringhim candles.

"Thecandles are to burn before his saint" whispered Reichtsolemnly.

"Aylass; and to read his holy books wi'. A neighbour o' mine saw hishand come outand the birds sat thereon and pecked crumbs. She wentfor to kiss itbut the holy man whippit it away in a trice. Theycan't abide a woman to touch 'enor even look at 'emsaints can't."

"Whatlike was his handwife? Did you ask her?"

"Whatis my tongue forelse? Whydear heartall one as yourn; by thesame token a had a thumb and four fingers."

"Lookye there now."

"Buta deal whiter nor yourn and mine."

"Ayay."

"Andmain skinny."

"Alas."

"Whatcould ye expect? Whya live upon airand prayerand candles."

"Ahwell" continued Joan; "poor thingI whiles think 'tisbest for her to know the worst. And now she hath gotten a voice fromheavenOr almost as goodand behoves her pray for his soul. Onethingshe is not so poor now as she was; and never fell riches to abetter hand; and she is only come into her own for that mattersoshe can pay the priest to say masses for himand that is a greatcomfort.'

Inthe midst of their gossipMargaretin whose ears it was allbuzzingthough she seemed lost in thoughtgot softly upand creptaway with her eyes on the groundand her brows bent.

"Shehath forgotten I am with her" said Reicht Heynes ruefully.

Shehad her gossip out with Joanand then went home.

Shefound Margaret seated cutting out a pelisse of grey clothand a capeto match. Little Gerard was standing at her sideinside her leftarmeyeing the workand making it more difficult by wrigglingaboutand fingering the arm with which she held the cloth steadytoall which she submitted with imperturbable patience and complacencyFancy a male workman so entangledimpededworried!

"Ot'sthatmammy?"

"Apelissemy pet."

"Ot'sa p'lisse?"

"Agreat frock. And this is the cape to't."

"Ot'sit for?"

"Tokeep his body from the cold; and the cape is for his shouldersor togo over his head like the country folk. 'Tis for a hermit."

"Ot'sa 'ermit?"

"Aholy man that lives in a cave all by himself."

"Inde dark?"

"Aywhiles."

"Oh."

Inthe morning Reicht was sent to the hermit with the pelisseand apound of thick candles.

Asshe was going out of the door Margaret said to her"Said youwhose son Gerard was?"

"Naynot I."

"Thinkgirl! How could he call him Gerardson of Eliif you had not toldhim?"

Reichtpersisted she had never mentioned him but as plain Gerard. ButMargaret told her flatly she did not believe her; at which Reicht wasaffrontedand went out with a little toss of the head. Howevershedetermined to question the hermit againand did not doubt he wouldbe more liberal in his communication when he saw his nice new pelisseand the candles.

Shehad not been gone long when Giles came in with ill news.

Theliving of Gouda would be kept vacant no longer.

Margaretwas greatly distressed at this.

"OhGiles" said she"ask for another month. They will givethee another monthmaybe."

Hereturned in an hour to tell her he could not get a month.

"Theyhave given me a week" said he. "And what is a week?"

"Drowningbodies catch at strawen" was her reply. " A week? a littleweek?"

Reichtcame back from her errand out of spirits. Her oracle had declined allfurther communication. So at least its obstinate silence might fairlybe interpreted.

Thenext day Margaret put Reicht in charge of the shopand disappearedall day. So the next dayand so the next. Nor would she tell any onewhere she had been. Perhaps she was ashamed. The fact isshe spentall those days on one little spot of ground. When they thought herdreamingshe was applying to every word that fell from Joan andReicht the whole powers of a far acuter mind than either of thempossessed.

Shewent to work on a scale that never occurred to either of them. Shewas determined to see the hermitand question him face to facenotthrough a wall. She found that by making a circuit she could getabove the caveand look down without being seen by the solitary. Butwhen she came to do itshe found an impenetrable mass of brambles.After tearing her clothesand her hands and feetso that she wassoon covered with bloodthe resolutepatient girl took out herscissors and steadily snipped and cut till she made a narrow paththrough the enemy. But so slow was the work that she had to leave ithalf done. The next day she had her scissors fresh groundandbrought a sharp knife as welland gentlysilentlycut her way tothe roof of the cave. There she made an ambush of some of the cutbramblesso that the passers-by might not see herand couched withwatchful eye till the hermit should come out. She heard him moveunderneath her. But he never left his cell. She began to think it wastrue that he only came out at night.

Thenext day she came early and brought a jerkin she was making forlittle Gerardand there she sat all dayworkingand watching withdogged patience.

Atfour o'clock the birds began to feed; and a great many of the smallerkinds came fluttering round the caveand one or two went in. Butmost of themtaking a preliminary seat on the bushessuddenlydiscovered Margaretand went off with an agitated flirt of theirlittle wings. And although they sailed about in the airthey wouldnot enter the cave. Presentlyto encourage themthe hermitallunconscious of the cause of their tremorsput out a thin white handwith a few crumbs in itMargaret laid down her work softlyandgliding her body forward like a snakelooked down at it from above;it was but a few feet from her. It was as the woman described itathinwhite hand.

Presentlythe other hand came out with a piece of breadand the two handstogether broke it and scattered the crumbs.

Butthat other hand had hardly been out two seconds ere the violet eyesthat were watching above dilated; and the gentle bosom heavedandthe whole frame quivered like a leaf in the wind.

Whather swift eye had seen I leave the reader to guess. She suppressedthe scream that rose to her lipsbut the effort cost her dear. Soonthe left hand of the hermit began to swim indistinctly before hergloating eyes; and with a deep sigh her head droopedand she laylike a broken lily.

Shewas in a deep swoonto which perhaps her long fast to-day and theagitation and sleeplessness of many preceding days contributed.

Andthere lay beautyintelligenceand constancypale and silentAndlittle that hermit guessed who was so near him. The little birdshopped on her nowand one nearly entangled his little feet in herrich auburn hair.

Shecame back to her troubles. The sun was set. She was very coldShecried a littlebut I think it was partly from the remains ofphysical weakness. And then she went homepraying God and the saintsto enlighten her and teach her what to do for the best.

Whenshe got home she was pale and hystericaland would say nothing inanswer to all their questions but her favourite word"We arewading in deep waters"

Thenight seemed to have done wonders for her.

Shecame to Catherinewho was sitting sighing by the firesideandkissed herand said -

"Motherwhat would you like best in the world?"

"Ehdear" replied Catherine despondently"I know nought thatwould make me smile now; I have parted from too many that were dearto me. Gerard lost again as soon as found; Kate in heaven; andSybrandt down for life."

"Poormother! Mother dearGouda manse is to be furnishedand cleanedandmade ready all in a hurrySeehere be ten gold angels. Make them gofargood mother; for I have ta'en over many already from my boy fora set of useless loons that were aye going to find him for me."

Catherineand Reicht stared at her a moment in silenceand then out burst aflood of questionsto none of which would she give a reply. "Nay"said she"I have lain on my bed and thoughtand thoughtandthought whiles you were all sleeping; and methinks I have got theclue to allI love youdear mother; but I'll trust no woman'stongue. If I fail this timeI'll have none to blame but MargaretBrandt."

Aresolute woman is a very resolute thing. And there was a deepdoggeddetermination in Margaret's voice and brow that at once convincedCatherine it would be idle to put any more questions at that timeShe and Reicht lost themselves in conjectures; and Catherinewhispered Reicht"Bide quiet; then 'twill leak out;" ashrewd piece of advicefounded on general observation.

Withinan hour Catherine was on the road to Gouda in a cartwith two stoutgirls to help herand quite a siege artillery of mopsand pailsand brushesShe came back with heightened colourand something ofthe old sparkle in her eyeand kissed Margaret with a silent warmththat spoke volumesand at five in the morning was off again toGouda.

Thatnight as Reicht was in her first sleep a hand gently pressed hershoulderand she awokeand was going to scream"Whisht"said Margaretand put her finger to her lips.

Shethen whispered"Rise softlydon thy habitsand come with me!"

Whenshe came downMargaret begged her to loose Dragon and bring himalong. Now Dragon was a great mastiffwho had guarded Margaret VanEyck and Reichttwo lone womenfor some yearsand was devotedlyattached to the latter.

Margaretand Reicht went outwith Dragon walking majestically behind them.They came back long after midnightand retired to rest.

Catherinenever knew.

Margaretread her friends: she saw the sturdyfaithful Frisian could hold hertongueand Catherine could not. Yet I am not sure she would havetrusted even Reicht had her nerve equalled her spirit; but with allher daring and resolutionshe was a tendertimid womana littleafraid of the darkvery afraid of being alone in itand desperatelyafraid of wolves. Now Dragon could kill a wolf in a brace of shakes;but then Dragon would not go with herbut only with Reicht; soaltogether she made one confidante.

Thenext night they made another moonlight reconnaissanceand as Ithinkwith some result. For not the next night (it rained that nightand extinguished their courage)but the next after they took withthem a companionthe last in the world Reicht Heynes would havethought of; yet she gave her warm approval as soon as she was told hewas to go with them.

Imaginehow these stealthy assailants trembled and panted when the moment ofaction came; imagineif you canthe tumult in Margaret's breastthe thrilling hopeschasingand chased by sickening fears; thestrange and perhaps unparalleled mixture of tender familiarity anddistant awe with which a lovely and high-spiritedbut tenderadoring womanwife in the eye of the Lawand no wife in the eye ofthe Churchtremblingblushingpalingglowingshiveringstole atnightnoiseless as the dewupon the hermit of Gouda.

Andthe stars above seemed never so bright and calm.

 

CHAPTERXCII

Yesthe hermit of Gouda was the vicar of Goudaand knew it notsoabsolute was his seclusion.

Myreader is aware that the moment the frenzy of his passion passedhewas seized with remorse for having been betrayed into it. But perhapsonly those who have risen as high in religious spirit as he hadandsuddenly fallencan realize the terror at himself that tookpossession of him. He felt like one whom self-confidence had betrayedto the very edge of a precipice.

"Ahgood Jerome" he cried"how much better you knew me than Iknew myself! How bitter yet wholesome was your admonition!"

Accustomedto search his own hearthe saw at once that the true cause of hisfury was Margaret. "I love her then better than God" saidhe despairingly; "better than the ChurchFrom such a love whatcan spring to meor to her?" He shuddered at the thought. "Letthe strong battle temptation; 'tis for the weak to flee. And who isweaker than I have shown myself? What is my penitencemy religion? Apack of cards built by degrees into a fair-seeming structure; and lo!one breath of earthly loveand it lies in the dustI must beginagainand on a surer foundation." He resolved to leave Hollandat onceand spend years of his life in some distant convent beforereturning to it. By that time the temptations of earthly passionwould be doubly baffled; and older and a better monkhe should bemore master of his earthly affectionsand Margaretseeing herselfabandonedwould marryand love anotherThe very anguish this lastthought cost him showed the self-searcher and self-denier that he wason the path of religious duty.

Butin leaving her for his immortal good and hershe was not to neglecther temporal weal. Indeedthe sweet thoughthe could make hercomfortable for lifeand rich in this world's goodswhich she wasnot bound to despisesustained him in the bitter struggle it costhim to turn his back on her without one kind word or look"Ohwhat will she think of me?" he groaned. "Shall I not seemto her of all creatures the most heartlessinhuman? but so best; aybetter she should hate memiserable that I amHeaven is mercifuland giveth my broken heart this comfort; I can make that villainrestore her ownand she shall never lose another true lover bypoverty. Another? Ah me! ah me! God and the saints to mine aid!"

Howhe fared on this errand has been related. But firstas you mayperhaps rememberhe went at night to shrive the hermit of Gouda. Hefound him dyingand never left him till he had closed his eyes andburied him beneath the floor of the little oratory attached to hiscell. It was the peaceful end of a stormy life. The hermit had been asoldierand even now carried a steel corselet next his skinsayinghe was now Christ's soldier as he had been Satan's. When Clement hadshriven him and prayed by himhein his turnsought counsel of onewho was dying in so pious a frameThe hermit advised him to be hissuccessor in this peaceful retreat. "His had been a hard fightagainst the worldthe fleshand the deviland he had neverthoroughly baffled them till he retired into the citadel of Solitude.

Thesewords and the hermit's pious and peaceful deathwhich speedilyfollowedand set as it were the seal of immortal truth on themmadea deep impression upon Clement. Nor in his case had they anyprejudice to combat; the solitary recluse was still profoundlyrevered in the Churchwhether immured as an anchorite or anchoressin some cave or cell belonging to a monasteryor hidden in the moresavage but laxer seclusion of the independent hermitage. And Clementknew more about the hermits of the Church than most divines at histime of life; he had read much thereon at the monastery near Tergouhad devoured their lives with wonder and delight in the manuscriptsof the Vaticanand conversed earnestly about them with the mendicantfriars of several nations. Before Printing these friars were thegreat circulators of those local annals and biographies whichaccumulated in the convents of every land. Then his teacherJeromehad been three years an anchorite on the heights of Camaldoliwherefor more than four centuries the Thebaid had been revived; andJeromecold and curt on most religious themeswas warm withenthusiasm on this one. He had pored over the annals of St. JohnBaptist's abbeyround about which the hermit's caves were scatteredand told him the names of many a nobleand many a famous warrior whohad ended his days there a hermitand of many a bishop andarchbishop who had passed from the see to the hermitageor from thehermitage to the see. Among the former the Archbishop of Ravenna;among the latter Pope Victor the Ninth. He told him toowith grimdelightof their multifarious austeritiesand how each hermit sethimself to find where he was weakestand attacked himself withoutmercy or remission till thereeven therehe was strongest. And howseven times in the twenty-four hoursin thunderrainor snowbydaylighttwilightmoonlightor torchlightthe solitaries flockedfrom distant pointsover rugged precipitous waysto worship in theconvent church; at matinsat primetiercesextenonesvespersand compline. He evenunder eager questioningdescribed to him thepersons of famous anchorites he had sung the Psalter and prayed withthere; the only intercourse their vows allowedexcept with specialpermission. MoncataDuke of Moncata and Cardovaand Hidalgo ofSpainwho in the flower of his youth had retired thither from thepompsvanitiesand pleasures of the world; Father John Baptist ofNovarawho had led armies to battlebut was now a private soldierof Christ; CorneliusSamueland Sylvanus. This lastwhen the greatDuchess de' Medici obtained the Pope's leavehitherto refusedtovisit Camaldoliwent down and met her at the first wooden crossandtheresurrounded as she was with courtiers and flatterersremonstrated with herand persuaded herand warned hernot toprofane that holy mountainwhere no woman for so many centuries hadplaced her foot; and sheawed by the place and the manretreatedwith all her captainssoldierscourtiersand pages from that onehoary hermit. At Basle Clement found fresh materialsespecially withrespect to German and English anchorites; and he had even prepared a"Catena Eremitarum" from the year of our Lord 250whenPaul of Thebes commenced his ninety years of solitudedown to theyear 1470. He called them Angelorum amici et animaliumi.e.
FRIENDSOF ANGELS AND ANIMALS.

Thusthough in those days he never thought to be a reclusethe road waspavedso to speak; and when the dying hermit of Gouda blessed thecitadel of Solitudewhere he had fought the good fight and won itand invited him to take up the breast-plate of faith that now felloff his own shrunken bodyClement said within himself: "Heavenitself led my foot hither to this end." It struck himtooasno small coincidence that his patronSt. Bavonwas a hermitand anaustere onea cuirassier of the solitary cell.

Assoon as he was reconciled to Ghysbrecht Van Swietenhe went eagerlyto his abodepraying Heaven it might not have been already occupiedin these three days. The fear was not vain; these famous dens neverwanted a human tenant long. He found the rude stone door ajar; thenhe made sure he was too late; he opened the door and went softly in.No; the cell was vacantand there were the hermit's great ivorycrucifixhis pensinkseedsandmemento moria skull; hiscilice of hairand another of bristles; his well-worn sheepskinpelisse and hood; his hammerchiseland psalteryetc. Men andwomen had passed that waybut none had ventured to intrudefar lessto steal. Faith and simplicity had guarded that keyless door moresecurely than the houses of the laity were defended by their gateslike a modern gaoland think iron bars at every windowand thegentry by moatbastionchevaux de friseand portcullis.

Assoon as Clement was fairly in the cell there was a loud flapand aflutterand down came a great brown owl from a cornerand whirledout of the windowdriving the air cold on Clement's faceHe startedand shuddered.

Wasthis seeming owl something diabolical? trying to deter him from hissoul's good? On second thoughtsmight it not be some good spirit thehermit had employed to keep the cell for himperhaps the hermithimself? Finally he concluded that it was just an owland that hewould try and make friends with it.

Hekneeled down and inaugurated his new life with prayer.

Clementhad not only an earthly passion to quellthe power of which made himtremble for his eternal wealbut he had a penance to do for havinggiven way to irehis besetting sinand cursed his own brothers.

Helooked round this roomy cell furnished with so many comfortsandcompared it with the pictures in his mind of the hideous placeeremus in eremoa desert in a desertwhere holy Jeromehermitandthe Plutarch of hermitshad wrestled with sicknesstemptationanddespair four mortal years; and with the inaccessible and thornynichea hole in a precipicewhere the boy hermit Benedict buriedhimselfand lived three years on the pittance the good monk Romanuscould spare him from his scanty commonsand subdivided that mouthfulwith his frienda raven; and the hollow tree of his patron St.Bavon; and the earthly purgatory at Fribourgwhere lived a namelesssaint in a horrid cavernhis eyes chilled with perpetual gloomandhis ears stunned with an eternal waterfall; and the pillar on whichSt. Simeon Stylita existed forty-five years; and the destinaorstone boxof St. Dunstanwherelike Hilarion in his bulrush hivesepulchro potius quam domuhe could scarce sitstandor lie; andthe living tombssealed with leadof Thaisand Christinaandother recluses; and the damp dungeon of St. Alred. These and scoresmore of the dismal dens in which true hermits had worn out theirwasted bodies on the rockand the rock under their sleeping bodiesand their praying kneesall came into his mindand he said tohimself"This sweet retreat is for safety of the soul; but whatfor penance Jesu aid me against faults to come; and for the fault Irueface of man I will not see for a twelvemonth and a day." Hehad famous precedents in his eye even for this last and unusualseverity. In fact the original hermit of this very cell was clearlyunder the same vow. Hence the two aperturesthrough which he wasspoken toand replied.

Adoptingin other respectsthe uniform rule of hermits and anchoriteshedivided his day into the seven officesignoring the petty accidentsof light and darkcreations both of Him to whom he prayed sounceasingly. He learned the psalter by heartand in all theintervals of devotionnot occupied by broken slumbershe workedhard with his hands. No article of the hermit's rule was more strictor more ancient than this. And here his self-imposed penanceembarrassed himfor what work could he dowithout being seenthatshould benefit his neighbours? for the hermit was to labour forhimself in those cases only where his subsistence depended on it. NowClement's modest needs were amply supplied by the villagers.

Onmoonlight nights he would steal out like a thiefand dig some poorman's garden on the outskirts of the village. He made baskets anddropped them slily at humble doors.

Andsince he could do nothing for the bodies of those who passed by hiscell in daytimehe went out in the dead of the night with his hammerand his chiseland carved moral and religious sentences all down theroad upon the sandstone rocks. "Who knows?" said he"oftena chance shaft strikes home.

Ohsore heartcomfort thou the poor and bereaved with holy words ofsolace in their native tongue; for he said "well'tis "clavisad corda plebis." Also he remembered the learned Colonna hadtold him of the written mountains in the eastwhere kings hadinscribed their victories"What" said Clement"arethey so wisethose Eastern monarchsto engrave their war-like gloryupon the rockmaking a blood bubble endure so long as earth; andshall I leave the rocks about me silent on the King of Gloryatwhose word they wereand at whose breath they shall be dust? Naybut these stones shall speak to weary wayfarers of eternal peaceandof the Lambwhose frail and afflicted yet happy servant worketh themamong."

Nowat this time the inspired words that have consoled the poor and theafflicted for so many ages were not yet printed in Dutchso thatthese sentences of gold from the holy evangelists came like freshoracles from heavenor like the dew on parched flowers; andthe poor hermit's written rocks softened a heart Or twoand sent theheavy laden singing on their way.

Theseholy oracles that seemed to spring up around him like magic; hisprudent answers through his window to such as sought ghostly counsel;and above allhis invisibilitysoon gained him a prodigiousreputationThis was not diminished by the medical advice they nowand then extorted from him sore against his willby tears andentreaties; for if the patients got well they gave the holy hermitthe creditand if not they laid all the blame on the devil. I thinkhe killed nobodyfor his remedies were womanish and weak." Sageand wormwoodsionhyssopboragespikenarddog's-tongueourLady's mantlefeverfewand Faithand all in small quantitiesexcept the last.

Thenhis abstinencesure sign of a saint. The eggs and milk they broughthim at first he refused with horror. Know ye not the hermit's rule isbreador herbsand water? Eggsthey are birds in disguise; forwhen the bird dieththen the egg rotteth. As for milkit is littlebetter than white blood. And when they brought him too much bread herefused it. Then they used to press it on him. "Nayholyfather; give the overplus to the poor."

"Youwho go among the poor can do that better. Is bread a thing to flinghaphazard from an hermit's window?" And to those who persistedafter this: "To live on charityyet play Sir Bountifulis tolie with the right hand. Giving another's to the poorI shouldbeguile them of their thanksand cheat thee the true giver. Thus dothieveswhose boast it is they bleed the rich into the lap of thepoor. Occasio avaritiae nomen pauperum."

Whennothing else would convince the good soulsthis piece of Latinalways brought them round. So would a line of Virgil's Aeneid.

Thisgreat reputation of sanctity was all external. Inside the cell was aman who held the hermit of Gouda as cheap as dirt.

"Ah!"said he"I cannot deceive myself; I cannot deceive God'sanimals. See the little birdshow coy they be; I feed and feed themand long for their friendshipyet will they never come withinnortake my handby lighting on't. For why? No Paulno BenedictnoHugh of Lincolnno Columbano Guthlac bides in this cell. Hunteddoe flieth not hitherfor here is no Fructuosusnor AventinenorAlbert of Suabia; nor e'en a pretty squirrel cometh from the woodhard by for the acorns I have hoarded; for here abideth no Columban.The very owl that was here hath fled. They are not to be deceived; Ihave a Pope's word for that; Heaven rest his soul."

Clementhad one advantage over her whose image in his heart he was bent ondestroying.

Hehad suffered and survived the pang of bereavementand the mindcannot quite repeat such anguish. Then he had built up a habit oflooking on her as dead. After that strange scene in the church andchurchyard of St. Laurensthat habit might be compared to astructure riven by a thunderbolt. It was shatteredbut stones enoughstood to found a similar habit on; to look on her as dead to him.

Andby severe subdivision of his time and thoughtsby unceasing prayersand manual labourhe did in about three months succeed in benumbingthe earthly half of his heart.

Butlo! within a day or two of this first symptom of mental peacereturning slowlythere descended upon his mind a horribledespondency.

Wordscannot utter itfor words never yet painted a likeness of despair.Voices seemed to whisper in his ear"Kill thyself! kill! kill!kill!"

Andhe longed to obey the voicesfor life was intolerable.

Hewrestled with his dark enemy with prayers and tears; he prayed Godbut to vary his temptation. "Oh let mine enemy have power toscourge me with red-hot whipsto tear me leagues and leagues overrugged places by the hair of my headas he has served many a holyhermitthat yet baffled him at last; to fly on me like a raginglion; to gnaw me with a serpent's fangs; any painany terrorbutthis horrible gloom of the soul that shuts me from all light of Theeand of the saints."

Andnow a freezing thought crossed him. What if the triumphs of thepowers of darkness over Christian souls in desert places had beensuppressedand only their defeats recordedor at least in full; fordark hints were scattered about antiquity that now first began togrin at him with terrible meaning.

"THEYWANDERED IN THE DESERT AND PERISHED BY SERPENTS" said anancient father of hermits that went into solitude"and wereseen no more." And another at a more recent epoch wrote:Vertuntur ad melancholiam: "they turn to gloomy madness."These two statementswere they not one? for the ancient fathersnever spoke with regret of the death of the body. Nothe hermits solost were perished soulsand the serpents were diabolicalthoughtsthe natural brood of solitude.

St.Jerome went into the desert with three companions; one fled in thefirst yeartwo died; how? The single one that lasted was a giganticsoul with an iron body.

Thecotemporary who related this made no commentexpressed no wonderWhatthenif here was a glimpse of the true proportion in everyageand many souls had always been lost in solitude for one giganticmind and iron body that survived this terrible ordeal.

Thedarkened recluse now cast his despairing eyes over antiquity to seewhat weapons the Christian arsenal contained that might befriend him.The greatest of all was prayer. Alas! it was a part of his malady tobe unable to pray with true fervour. The very system of mechanicalsupplication he had for months carried out so severely by rule hadrather checked than fostered his power of originating true prayer.

Heprayed louder than everbut the heart hung back cold and gloomyandlet the words go up alone.

"Poorwingless prayers" he cried"you will not get half-way toheaven."

Afiend of this complexion had been driven out of King Saul by music.

Clementtook up the hermit's psalteryand with much trouble mended thestrings and tuned it.

Nohe could not play it. His soul was so out of tune. The sounds jarredon itand made him almost mad.

"Ahwretched me!" he cried; "Saul had a saint to play to him.He was not alone with the spirits of darkness; but here is no sweetbard of Israel to play to me; Ilonelywith crushed hearton whicha black fiend sitteth mountain highmust make the music to upliftthat heart to heaven; it may not be." And he grovelled on theearth weeping and tearing his hair.

VERTEBATURAD MELANCHOLIAM.

 

CHAPTERXCIII

Oneday as he lay there sighing and groaningprayerlesstunelesshopelessa thought flashed into his mind. What he had done for thepoor and the wayfarerhe would do for himself. He would fill his denof despair with the name of God and the magic words of holy writandthe piousprayerful consolations of the Church.

Thenlike Christian at Apollyon's feethe reached his hand suddenly outand caughtnot his swordfor he had nonebut peaceful labour'shumbler weaponhis chiseland worked with it as if his souldepended on his arm.

Theysay that Michael Angelo in the next generation used to carve statuesnot like our timid sculptorsby modelling the work in clayand thensetting a mechanic to chisel itbut would seize the blockconceivethe imageand at oncewith mallet and steelmake the marble chipsfly like mad about himand the mass sprout into form. Even soClement drew no lines to guide his hand. He went to his memory forthe gracious wordsand then dashed at his work and eagerly gravedthem in the soft stonebetween working and fighting.

Hebegged his visitors for candle endsand rancid oil.

"Anythingis good enough for me" he said"if 'twill but burn."So at night the cave glowed afar off like a blacksmith's forgethrough the window and the gaping chinks of the rude stone doorandthe rustics beholding crossed themselves and suspected deviltriesand within the holy talismansone after anothercame upon thewallsand the sparks and the chips flew day and nightnight anddayas the soldier of Solitude and of the Church pliedwith sighsand groanshis bloodless weaponbetween working and fighting.

KyrieEleison

ChristeEleison.

TonSatanan suntriyon upo tous poqas hmvn

SursumCorda.

DeusRefugium nostrum et virtus.

AgnusDeiqui tollis peccata mundi miserere mihi.

SanctaTrinitas unus Deusmiserere nobis.

Abinfestationibus Daemonuma ventura iraa damnatione perpetualibera nos Domine.

Deusqui miro ordine Angelorum ministeriaetc(the whole)

Quemquaerimus adjutorem nisi te Domine qui pro peccatis nostris

SancteDeusSancte fortisSancte et misericors Salvatoramarae morti netradas nos.

Andunderneath the great crucifixwhich was fastened to the wallhegraved this from Augustine:

Oanima Christianarespice vulnera patientissanguinem morientispretium redemptionis. Haec quanta sint cogitateet in statera mentisvestrae appenditeut totus vobis figatur in cordequi pro vobistotus fixus est in cruce. Nam si passio Christi ad memoriamrevoceturnihil est tam durum quod non aequo animo toleretur.

Whichmay be thus rendered: O Christian soullook on the wounds of thesuffering Onethe blood of the dying Onethe price paid for ourredemption! These thingsohthink how great they beand weigh themin the balance of thy mind: that He may be wholly nailed to thyheartwho for thee was all nailed unto the cross. For do but call tomind the sufferings of Christand there is nought on earth too hardto endure with composure.

Sootheda littlea very littleby the sweet and pious words he was raisingall round himand weighed down with watching and working night anddayClement one morning sank prostrate with fatigueand a deepsleep overpowered him for many hours. Awaking quietlyhe heard alittle cheep; he opened his eyesand lo! upon his breviarywhichwas on a low stool near his feetruffling all his feathers with asingle pulland smoothing them as suddenlyand cocking his billthis way and that with a vast display of cunning purely imaginaryperched a robin redbreast.

Clementheld his breath.

Hehalf closed his eyes lest they should frighten the airy guest.

Downcame robin on the floor.

Whenthere he went through his pantomime of astuteness; and thenpimpimpimwith three stiff little hopslike a ball of worsted onvertical wireshe was on the hermit's bare foot. On this eminence heswelled and contracted againwith ebb and flow of feathers; butClement lost thisfor he quite closed his eyes and scarce drew hisbreath in fear of frightening and losing his visitor. He was contentto feel the minute claw on his foot. He could but just feel itandthat by help of knowing it was there.

Presentlya little flirt with two little wingsand the feathered busybody wason the breviary again.

ThenClement determined to try and feed this pretty little fidget withoutfrightening it away. But it was very difficult.

Hehad a piece of bread within reachbut how get at it? I think he wasfive minutes creeping his hand up to that breadand when there hemust not move his arm.

Heslily got a crumb between a finger and thumb and shot it as boys domarbleskeeping the hand quite still.

Cockrobinsaw it fall near himand did sagacitybut moved not.

Whenanother followedand then anotherhe popped down and caught up oneof the crumbsbut not quite understanding this mystery fled with itfor more securityto an eminence; to witthe hermit's knee.

Andso the game proceeded till a much larger fragment than usual rolledalong.

Herewas a prize. Cockrobin pounced on itbore it aloftand fled soswiftly into the world with itthe cave resounded with the buffetedair.

"Nowbless theesweet bird" sighed the stricken solitary; "thywings are musicand thou a feathered ray camedst to light mydarkened soul."

Andfrom that to his orisonsand then to his tools with a little bit ofcourageand this was his day's work:
VeniCreatorSpiritus
Mentes tuorem visita
Imple superna gratia
Quae tucreasti pectora
Accende lumen sensibus
Mentes tuorumvisita
Infirma nostri corporis
Virtute firmans perpeti.

Andso the days rolled on; and the weather got colderand Clement'sheart got warmerand despondency was rolling away; and by-and-bysomehow or anotherit was gone. He had outlived it.

Ithad come like a cloudand it went like one.

Andpresently all was reversed; his cell seemed illuminated with joy. Hiswork pleased him; his prayers were full of unction; his psalms ofpraise. Hosts of little birds followed their crimson leaderandflying from snowand a parish full of Cainsmade friends one afteranother with Abel; fast friends. And one keen frosty night as he sangthe praises of God to his tuneful psalteryand his hollow cave rangforth the holy psalmody upon the nightas if that cave itself wasTubal's surrounding shellor David's harphe heard a clear whinenot unmelodious; it became louder and less in tune. He peeped throughthe chinks of his rude doorand there sat a great red wolf moaningmelodiously with his nose high in the air.

Clementwas rejoiced. "My sins are going" he cried"and thecreatures of God are owning meone after another." And in aburst of enthusiasm he struck up the laud:

"PraiseHim all ye creatures of His!

"Leteverything that hath breath praise the Lord."

Andall the time he sang the wolf bayed at intervals.

Butabove all he seemed now to be drawing nearer to that celestialintercourse which was the sign and the bliss of the true hermit; forhe had dreams about the saints and angelsso vividthey were morelike visions. He saw bright figures clad in woven snow. They bent onhim eyes lovelier than those of the antelope's he had seen at Romeand fanned him with broad wings hued like the rainbowand theirgentle voices bade him speed upon his course.

Hehad not long enjoyed this felicity when his dreams began to takeanother and a strange complexion. He wandered with Fra Colonna overthe relics of antique nationsand the friar was lame and had astaffand this staff he waved over the mighty ruinsand were theyEgyptianGreekor Romanstraightway the temples and palaceswhosewrecks they wererose again like an exhalationand were throngedwith the famous dead. Songsters that might have eclipsed both Apolloand his rival poured forth their lays; womengod-like in formanddraped like Minervaswam round the marble courts in voluptuous buteasy and graceful dances. Here sculptors carved away amidst admiringpupilsand forms of supernatural beauty grew out of Parian marble ina quarter of an hour; and grave philosophers conversed on high andsubtle matterswith youth listening reverently; it was a long timeago. And still beneath all this wonderful panorama a sort ofsuspicion or expectation lurked in the dreamer's mind. "This isa prologuea flourishthere is something behind; something thatmeans me no goodsomething mysteriousawful."

Andone night that the wizard Colonna had transcended himselfhe pointedwith his stickand there was a swallowing up of many great ancientcitiesand the pair stood on a vast sandy plain with a huge crimsonsun sinking to restThere were great palm-trees; and there werebulrush hivesscarce a man's heightdotted all about to the sandyhorizonand the crimson sun.

"Theseare the anchorites of the Theban desert" said Colonna calmly;"followers not of Christ and His apostlesand the greatfathersbut of the Greek pupils of the Egyptian pupils of theBrachmans and Gymnosophists."

AndClement thought that he burned to go and embrace the holy men andtell them his troublesand seek their advice. But he was tied by thefeet somehowand could not moveand the crimson sun sankand itgot duskand the hives scarce visibleAnd Colonna's figure becameshadowy and shapelessbut his eyes glowed ten times brighter; andthis thing all eyes spoke and said: "Naylet them bea pack offools I see how dismal it all is." Then with a suddensprightliness"But I hear one of them has a manuscript ofPetroniuson papyrus; I go to buy it; farewell for everfor everfor ever."

Andit was pitch darkand a light came at Clement's back like a gentlestrokea glorious roseate light. It warmed as well as brightened. Itloosened his feet from the ground; he turned roundand thereherface irradiated with sunshineand her hair glittering like thegloriola of a saintwas Margaret Brandt.

Sheblushed and smiled and cast a look of ineffable tenderness on him"Gerard" she murmured"be whose thou wilt by daybut at night be mine!"

Evenas she spokethe agitation of seeing her so suddenly awakened himand he found himself lying trembling from head to foot.

Thatradiant figure and mellow voice seemed to have struck his nightlykeynote.

Awakehe could prayand praiseand worship God; he was master of histhoughts. But if he closed his eyes in sleepMargaretor Satan inher shapebeset hima seeming angel of light. He might dream of athousand different thingswide as the poles asunderere he woke theimperial figure was sure to come and extinguish all the rest in amomentstellas exortus uti aetherius sol; for she came glowing withtwo beauties never before unitedan angel's radiance and a woman'sblushes.

Angelscannot blush. So he knew it was a fiend.

Hewas alarmedbut not so much surprised as at the demon's lastartifice. From Anthony to Nicholas of the Rock scarce hermit that hadnot been thus beset; sometimes with gay voluptuous visionssometimeswith lovely phantomswarmtangibleand womanly withoutdemonswithinnor always baffled even by the saints. Witness that "angelform with a devil's heart" that came hanging its lovely headlike a bruised flowerto St. Macariuswith a feigned taleandweptand weptand weptand beguiled him first of his tears andthen of half his virtue.

Butwith the examples of Satanic power and craft had come down copiousrecords of the hermits' triumphs and the weapons by which they hadconquered.

Domandumest Corpus; the body must be tamed; this had been their watchword fortwelve hundred years. It was a tremendous war-cry; for they calledthe earthly affectionsas well as appetitesbodyand crushed thewhole heart through the suffering and mortified flesh.

Clementthen said to himself that the great enemy of man had retired but tospring with more effectand had allowed him a few days of truepurity and joy only to put him off his guard against the softblandishments he was pouring over the soul that had survived thebuffeting of his black wings. He applied himself to tame the bodyheshortened his sleeplengthened his prayersand increased his severetemperance to abstinence. Hithertofollowing the ordinary rulehehad eaten only at sunset. Now he ate but once in forty-eight hoursdrinking a little water every day.

Onthis the visions became more distinct.

Thenhe flew to a famous antidoteto "the grand febrifuge" ofanchorites - cold water.

Hefound the deepest part of the stream that ran by his cell; it rosenot far off at a holy well; and clearing the bottom of the largestonesmade a hole where he could stand in water to the chinandfortified by so many exampleshe sprang from his rude bed upon thenext diabolical assaultand entered the icy water.

Itmade him gasp and almost shriek with the cold. It froze his marrow."I shall die" he cried"I shall die; but better thisthan fire eternal."

Andthe next day he was so stiff in all his joints he could not moveandhe seemed one great ache. And even in sleep he felt that his verybones were like so many raging teethtill the phantom he dreadedcame and gave one pitying smileand all the pain was gone.

Thenfeeling that to go into the icy water againenfeebled by fasts as hewasmight perhaps carry the guilt of suicidehe scourged himselftill the blood ranand so lay down smarting. And when exhaustionbegan to blunt the smart down to a throbthat moment the present wasawayand the past came smiling back. He sat with Margaret at theduke's feastthe minstrels played divinelyand the purple fountainsgushed. Youth and love reigned in each heartand perfumed the veryair.

Thenthe scene shiftedand they stood at the altar together man and wife.And no interruption this timeand they wandered hand in handandtold each other their horrible dreams. As for him"he haddreamed she was deadand he was a monk; and really the dream hadbeen so vivid and so full of particulars that only his eyesight couldeven now convince him it was only a dreamand they were really one."

Andthis new keynote once struckevery tune ran upon it. Awake he wasClement the hermitrisen from unearthly visions of the nightasdangerous as they were sweet; asleep he was Gerard Eliassoenthehappy husband of the loveliest and bestand truest girl in Holland:all the happier that he had been for some time the sport of hideousdreamsin which he had lost her.

Hisconstant fastscoupled with other austeritiesand the deep mentalanxiety of a man fighting with a supernatural foehad now reducedhim nearly to a skeleton; but still on those aching bones hung fleshunsubduedand quivering with an earthly passion; sohoweverhethought; "or why had ill spirits such power over him?" Hisopinion was confirmedwhen one day he detected himself sinking tosleep actually with a feeling of complacencybecause now Margaretwould come and he should feel no more painand the unreal would berealand the real unrealfor an hour.

Onthis he rose hastily with a cry of dismayand stripping to the skinclimbed up to the brambles above his caveand flung himself on themand rolled on them writhing with the pain: then he came into his dena mass of goreand lay moaning for hours; tillout of sheerexhaustionhe fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Heawoke to bodily painand mental exultation; he had broken the fatalspell. Yesit was broken; another and another day passedand herimage molested him no more. But he caught himself sighing at hisvictory.

Thebirds got tamer and tamerthey perched upon his hand. Two of themlet him gild their little claws. Eating but once in two days he hadmore to give them.

Histranquility was not to last long.

Awoman's voice came in from the outsidetold him his own story in avery few wordsand asked him to tell her where Gerard was to befound.

Hewas so astounded he could only saywith an instinct of self-defence"Pray for the soul of Gerard the son of Eli!" meaning thathe was dead to the world. And he sat wondering.

Whenthe woman was gonehe determinedafter an inward battleto riskbeing seenand he peeped after her to see who it could be; but hetook so many precautionsand she ran so quickly back to her friendthat the road was clear.

"Satan!"said he directly.

Andthat night back came his visions of earthly love and happiness sovividlyhe could count every auburn hair in Margaret's headand seethe pupils of her eyes.

Thenhe began to despairand said"I must leave this country; hereI am bound fast in memory's chain;" and began to dread his cell.He said"A breath from hell hath infected itand robbed eventhese holy words of their virtue." And unconsciously imitatingSt. Jeromea victim of earthly hallucinationsas overpoweringandcoarserhe took his warmest covering out into the wood hard byandthere flung down under a tree that torn and wrinkled leather bag ofboneswhich a little ago might have served a sculptor for Apollo.

Whetherthe fever of his imagination intermittedas a master mind of our dayhas shown that all things intermit or that this really broke some subtle linkI know notbut his sleep was dreamless.

Heawoke nearly frozenbut warm with joy within.

"Ishall yet be a true hermitDei gratia" said he.

Thenext day some good soul left on his little platform a new lambs-woolpelisse and capewarmsoftand ample.

Hehad a moment's misgiving on account of its delicious softness andwarmth; but that passed. It was the right skinand a mark that Heaven approved his present course.

Itrestored warmth to his bones after he came in from his short rest.

Andnowat one moment he saw victory before him if he could but live toit; at anotherhe said to himself"'Tis but another lull; beon thy guardClement."

Andthis thought agitated his nerves and kept him in continual awe.

Hewas like a soldier within the enemy's lines.

Onenighta beautiful clear frosty nighthe came back to his cellafter a short rest. The stars were wonderful. Heaven seemed athousand times larger as well as brighter than earthand to lookwith a thousand eyes instead of one.

"Ohwonderful" he cried"that there should be men who docrimes by night; and others scarce less madwho live for this littleworldand not for that great and glorious onewhich nightlyto alleyes not blinded by customreveals its glowing glories. Thank God Iam a hermit."

Andin this mood he came to his cell door.

Hepaused at it; it was closed.

"Whymethought I left it open" said he"The wind. There is nota breath of wind. What means this?"

Hestood with his hand upon the rugged door. He looked through one ofthe great chinksfor it was much smaller in places than the apertureit pretended to closeand saw his little oil wick burning just wherehe had left it.

"Howis it with me" he sighedwhen I start and tremble at nothing?Either I did shut itor the fiend hath shut it after me to disturbmy happy soul. Retro Sathanas!"

Andhe entered his cave rapidlyand began with somewhat nervousexpedition to light one of his largest tapers. While he was lightingitthere was a soft sigh in the cave.

Hestarted and dropped the candle just as it was lightingand it wentout.

Hestooped for it hurriedly and lighted itlistening intently.

Whenit was lighted he shaded it with his hand from behindand threw thefaint light all round the cell.

Inthe farthest corner the outline of the wall seemed broken.

Hetook a step towards the place with his heart beating.

Thecandle at the same time getting brighterhe saw it was the figure ofa woman.

Anotherstep with his knees knocking together.

ITWAS MARGARET BRANDT.

 

CHAPTERXCIV

HERattitude was one to excite pity rather than terrorin eyes notblinded by a preconceived notion. Her bosom was fluttering like abirdand the red and white coming and going in her cheeksand shehad her hand against the wall by the instinct of timid thingsshetrembled so; and the marvellous mixed gaze of loveand pious aweand pityand tender memoriesthose purple eyes cast on theemaciated and glaring hermitwas an event in nature.

"Aha!"he cried. "Thou art come at last in flesh and blood; come to meas thou camest to holy Anthony. But I am ware of thee. I thought thywiles were not exhausted. I am armed." With this he snatched uphis small crucifix and held it out at herastonishedand the candlein the other handboth crucifix and candle shaking violently."Exorcizo te."

"Ahno!" cried she piteously; and put out two pretty deprecatingpalms. "Alas! work me no ill! It is Margaret."

"Liar!"shouted the hermit. "Margaret was fairbut not so supernaturalfair as thou. Thou didst shrink at that sacred namethou subtlehypocrite. In Nomine Dei exorcizo vos."

"AhJesu!" gasped Margaretin extremity of terror"curse menot! I will go home. I thought I might come. For very manhoodbe-Latin me not! OhGerardis it thus you and I meet after allafter all?"

Andshe cowered almost to her knees and sobbed with superstitious fearand wounded affection.

Impregnatedas he was with Satanophobia he might perhaps have doubted stillwhether this distressed creatureall woman and naturewas not allart and fiend. But her spontaneous appeal to that sacred namedissolved his chimera; and let him see with his eyesand hear withhis ears.

Heuttered a cry of self-reproachand tried to raise her but what withfastswhat with the overpowering emotion of a long solitude sobrokenhe could not. "What" he gaspedshaking over her"and is it thou? And have I met thee with hard words? Alas!"And they were both choked with emotion and could not speak for awhile.

"Iheed it not much" said Margaret bravelystruggling with hertears; "you took me for another: for a devil; oh! oh! oh! oh!oh!"

"Forgivemesweet soul!" And as soon as he could speak more than a wordat a timehe said"I have been much beset by the evil onesince I came here."

Margaretlooked round with a shudder. "Like enow. Then oh take my handand let me lead thee from this foul place."

Hegazed at her with astonishment.

"Whatdesert my cell; and go into the world again? Is it for that thou hastcome to me?" said he sadly and reproachfully.

"AyGerardI am come to take thee to thy pretty vicarage: art vicar ofGoudathanks to Heaven and thy good brother Giles; and mother and Ihave made it so neat for theeGerard. 'Tis well enow in winter Ipromise thee. But bide a bit till the hawthorn bloomand anon thywalls put on their kirtle of brave rosesand sweet woodbineHave weforgotten theeand the foolish things thou lovest? Anddear Gerardthy mother is waiting; and 'tis late for her to be out of her bed:pritheepritheecome! And the moment we are out of this foul holeI'll show thee a treasure thou hast gottenand knowest nought on'tor sure hadst never fled from us so. Alas! what is to do? What have Iignorantly saidto be regarded thus?"

Forhe had drawn himself all up into a heapand was looking at her witha strange gaze of fear and suspicion blended.

"Unhappygirl" said he solemnlyyet deeply agitated"would youhave me risk my soul and yours for a miserable vicarage and theflowers that grow on it? But this is not thy doing: the bowellessfiend sends theepoor simple girlto me with this bait. But ohcunning fiendI will unmask thee even to this thine instrumentandshe shall see theeand abhor thee as I doMargaretmy lost lovewhy am I here? Because I love thee."

"Oh!noGerardyou love me not. or you would not have hidden from me;there was no need."

"Letthere be no deceit between us twainthat have loved so true; andafter this nightshall meet no more on earth."

"NowGod forbid!" said she.

"Ilove theeand thou hast not forgotten meor thou hadst married erethisand hadst not been the one to find meburied here from sightof man. I am a priesta monk: what but folly or sin can come of youand me living neighboursand feeding a passion innocent oncebutnow (so Heaven wills it) impious and unholy? Nothough my heartbreak I must be firm. 'Tis I that am the man'tis I that am thepriest. You and I must meet no moretill I am schooled by solitudeand thou art wedded to another."

"Iconsent to my doom but not to thine. I would ten times liever die;yet I will marryaywed misery itself sooner than let thee lie inthis foul dismal placewith yon sweet manse awaiting for thee."Clement groaned; at each word she spoke out stood clearer and clearertwo things - his dutyand the agony it must cost.

"Mybeloved" said hewith a strange mixture of tenderness anddogged resolution"I bless thee for giving me one more sight ofthy sweet faceand may God forgive theeand bless theefordestroying in a minute the holy peace it hath taken six months ofsolitude to build. No matter. A year of penance willDei gratiarestore me to my calm. My poor MargaretI seem cruel: yet I am kind:'tis best we part; aythis moment."

"PartGerard? Never: we have seen what comes of parting. Part? Whyyouhave not heard half my story; nonor the tithe'Tis not for thymere comfort I take thee to Gouda manse. Hear me!"

"Imay not. Thy very voice is a temptation with its musicmemory'sdelight."

"ButI say you shall hear meGerardfor forth this place I go notunheard."

"Thenmust we part by other means" said Clement sadly.

"Alack!what other means? Wouldst put me to thine own doorbeing thestronger?"

"NayMargaretwell thou knowest I would suffer many deaths rather thanput force on thee; thy sweet body is dearer to me than my own; but amillion times dearer to me are our immortal soulsboth thine andmine. I have withstood this direst temptation of all long enow. Now Imust fly it: farewell! farewell!"

Hemade to the doorand had actually opened it and got half outwhenshe darted after and caught him by the arm.

"Naythen another must speak for me. I thought to reward thee for yieldingto me; but unkind that thou artI need his help I find; turn thenthis way one moment."

"Naynay."

"ButI say ay! And then turn thy back on us an thou canst." Shesomewhat relaxed her graspthinking he would never deny her so smalla favour. But at this he saw his opportunity and seized it.

"FlyClementfly!" he almost shrieked; and his religious enthusiasmgiving him for a moment his old strengthhe burst wildly away fromherand after a few steps bounded over the little stream and ranbeside itbut finding he was not followed stoppedand looked back.

Shewas lying on her facewith her hands spread out.

Yeswithout meaning ithe had thrown her down and hurt her.

Whenhe saw thathe groaned and turned back a step; but suddenlybyanother impulse flung himself into the icy water instead.

"Therekill my body!" he cried"but save my soul!"

Whilsthe stood thereup to his throat in liquid iceso to speakMargaretuttered one longpiteous moanand rose to her knees.

Hesaw her as plain almost as in midday. Saw her pale face and her eyesglistening; and then in the still night he heard these words:

"OhGod! Thou that knowest allThou seest how I am used. Forgive methen! For I will not live another day." With this she suddenlystarted to her feetand flew like some wild creaturewounded todeathclose by his miserable hiding-placeshrieking: "CRUEL! -CRUEL! - CRUEL! - CRUEL!"

Whatmanifold anguish may burst from a human heart in a single syllable.There were wounded loveand wounded prideand despairand comingmadness all in that piteous cry. Clement heardand it froze hisheart with terror and remorseworse than the icy water chilled themarrow of his bones.

Hefelt he had driven her from him for everand in the midst of hisdismal triumphthe greatest he had wonthere came an almostincontrollable impulse to curse the Churchto curse religion itselffor exacting such savage cruelty from mortal man. At last he crawledhalf dead out of the waterand staggered to his den. "I am safehere" he groaned; "she will never come near me again;unmanlyungrateful wretch that I am." And he flung hisemaciatedfrozen body down on the floornot without a secret hopethat it might never rise thence alive.

Butpresently he saw by the hour-glass that it was past midnight.

Onthishe rose slowly and took off his wet thingsand moaning all thetime at the pain he had caused her he lovedput on the old hermit'scilice of bristlesand over that his breastplate. He had never worneither of these beforedoubting himself worthy to don the arms ofthat tried soldier. But now he must give himself every aid; thebristles might distract his earthly remorse by bodily painand theremight be holy virtue in the breastplate. Then he kneeled down andprayed God humbly to release him that very night from the burden ofthe flesh. Then he lighted all his candlesand recited his psalterdoggedly; each word seemed to come like a lump of lead from a leadenheartand to fall leaden to the ground; and in this mechanicaloffice every now and then he moaned with all his soul. In the midstof which he suddenly observed a little bundle in the corner he hadnot seen before in the feebler lightand at one end of it somethinglike gold spun into silk.

Hewent to see what it could be; and he had no sooner viewed it closerthan he threw up his hands with rapture. "It is a seraph"he whispered"a lovely seraph. Heaven hath witnessed my bittertrialand approves my cruelty; and this flower of the skies is sentto cheer mefainting under my burden."

Hefell on his kneesand gazed with ecstasy on its golden hairand itstender skinand cheeks like a peach.

"Letme feast my sad eyes on thee ere thou leavest me for thineever-blessed abodeand my cell darkens again at thy partingas itdid at hers."

Withall thisthe hermit disturbed the lovely visitor. He opened wide twoeyesthe colour of heaven; and seeing a strange figure kneeling overhimhe cried piteously"MUMMA! MUM-MA!" And the tearsbegan to run down his little cheeks.

Perhapsafter allClementwho for more than six months had not looked onthe human face divineestimated childish beauty more justly than wecan; and in truththis fair northern childwith its long goldenhairwas far more angelic than any of our imagined angels. But nowthe spell was broken.

Yetnot unhappily. Clement it may be rememberedwas fond of childrenand true monastic life fosters this sentiment. The innocent distresson the cherubic facethe tears that ran so smoothly from thosetransparent violetshis eyesand his prettydismal cry for hisonly friendhis motherwent through the hermit's heart. He employedall his gentleness and all his art to soothe him; and as the littlesoul was wonderfully intelligent for his agepresently succeeded sofar that he ceased to cry outand wonder took the place of fear;whilein silencebroken only in little gulpshe scannedwithgreat tearful eyesthis strange figure that looked so wildbutspoke so kindlyand wore armouryet did not kill little boysbutcoaxed them. Clement was equally perplexed to know how this littlehuman flower came to lie sparkling and blooming in his gloomy cave.But he remembered he had left the door wide openand he was drivento conclude thatowing to this negligencesome unfortunate creatureof high or low degree had seized this opportunity to getrid of her child forever.

Atthis his bowels yearned so over the poor deserted cherubthat thetears of pure tenderness stood in his eyesand stillbeneath thecrime of the motherhe saw the divine goodnesswhich had sodirected her heartlessness as to comfort His servant's breakingheart.

"Nowbless theebless theebless theesweet innocentI would notchange thee for e'en a cherub in heaven."

"At'spooty" replied the infantignoring contemptuouslyafter themanner of infantsall remarks that did not interest him.

"Whatis pretty heremy lovebesides thee?"saidthe boypointing to the hermit's breastplate.

"Quotliberitot sententiunculae!" Hector's child screamed at hisfather's glittering casque and nodding crest; and here was amediaeval babe charmed with a polished cuirassand his griefsassuaged.

"Thereare prettier things here than that" said Clement"thereare little birds; lovest thou birds?"

"Nay.Ay. En um ittleery ittle? Not ike torks. Hate torks um bigger anbaby."

Hethen confidedin very broken languagethat the storks with theirgreat flapping wings. scared himand were a great trouble and worryto himdarkening his existence more or less.

"Aybut my birds are very littleand goodand ohso pretty!"

"DenI ikes 'm" said the child authoritatively"I ont mymammy."

"Alassweet dove! I doubt I shall have to fill her place as best I may.Hast thou no daddy as well as mammysweet one?"

Nownot only was this conversation from first to lastthe relative agessituationsand all circumstances of the parties consideredasstrange a one as ever took place between two mortal creaturesbut ator within a second or two of the hermit's last questionto turn thestrange into the marvellouscame an unseen witnessto whom everyword that passed carried ten times the force it did to either of thespeakers.

Sincethereforeit is with her eyes you must now seeand hear with herearsI go back a step for her.

Margaretwhen she ran past Gerardwas almost mad. She was in that state ofmind in which affectionate mothers have been known to kill theirchildrensometimes along with themselvessometimes alonewhichlast is certainly maniacalShe ran to Reicht Heynes pale andtremblingand clasped her round the neck"OhReicht! ohReicht!" and could say no more.

Reichtkissed herand began to whimper; and would you believe itthe greatmastiff uttered one long whine: even his glimmer of sense taught himgrief was afoot.

"OhReicht!" moaned the despised beautyas soon as she could uttera word for choking"see how he has served me!" and sheshowed her handsthat were bleeding with falling on the stonyground. "He threw me downhe was so eager to fly from meHetook me for a devil; he said I came to tempt him. Am I the woman totempt a man? you know meReicht."

"Nayin soothsweet Mistress Margaretthe last i' the world."

"Andhe would not look at my child. I'll fling myself and him into theRotter this night."

"Ohfie! fie! ehmy sweet womanspeak not so. Is any man that breathesworth your child's life?"

"Mychild! where is he? WhyReichtI have left him behind. Ohshame!is it possible I can love him to that degree as to forget my child?Ah! I am rightly served for it."

Andshe sat downand faithful Reicht beside herand they sobbed in oneanother's arms.

Aftera while Margaret left off sobbing. and said doggedly"let us gohome."

"Aybut the bairn?"

"Oh!he is well where he is. My heart is turned against my very childHecares nought for him; wouldn't see himnor hear speak of him; and Itook him there so proudand made his hair so niceI didand puthis new frock and cowl on him. Nayturn about: it's his child aswell as mine; let him keep it awhile: mayhap that will learn him tothink more of its mother and his own."

"Highwords off an empty stomach" said Reicht.

"Timewill show. Come you home."

Theydepartedand Time did show quicker than he levels abbeysfor at thesecond step Margaret stoppedand could neither go one way nor theotherbut stood stock still.

"Reicht"said she piteously"what else have I on earth? I cannot."

"Whoeversaid you could? Think you I paid attention? Words are woman's breath.Come back for him without more ado; 'tis time we were in our bedsmuch more he."

Reichtled the wayand Margaret followed readily enough in that direction;but as they drew near the cellshe stopped again.

"Reichtgo you and ask himwill he give me back my boy; for I could not bearthe sight of him"

"Alas!mistressthis do seem a sorry ending after all that hath beenbetwixt you twain. Bethink thee nowdoth thine heart whisper noexcuse for him? dost verily hate him for whom thou hast waited solong? Ohweary world!"

"HatehimReicht? I would not harm a hair of his head for all

thatis in nature; but look on him I cannot; I have taken a horror of him.Oh! when I think of all I have suffered for himand what I came herethis night to do for himand brought my own darling to kiss him andcall him father. AhLukemy poor chapmy wound showeth me thine. Ihave thought too little of thy pangswhose true affection Idespised; and now my own is despisedReichtif the poor lad washere nowhe would have a good chance."

"Wellhe is not far off" said Reicht Heynes; but somehow she did notsay it with alacrity.

"Speaknot to me of any man" said Margaret bitterly; "I hate themall."

"Forthe sake of one?"

"Floutme notbut prithee go forwardand get me what is my ownmy solejoy in the world. Thou knowest I am on thorns till I have him to mybosom again."

Reichtwent forward; Margaret sat by the roadside and covered her face withher apronand rocked herself after the manner of her countryforher soul was full of bitterness and grief. So severeindeedwas theinternal conflictthat she did not hear Reicht running back to herand started violently when the young woman laid a hand upon hershoulder.

"MistressMargaret!" said Reicht quietly"take a fool's advice thatloves ye. Go softly to yon cavewi' all the ears and eyes yourmother ever gave you."

"Why?Reicht?" stammered Margaret.

"Ithought the cave was afire'twas so light inside; and there werevoices."

"Voices?"

"Aynot onebut twainand all unlike - a man's and a little child'stalking as pleasant as you and me. I am no great hand at a keyholefor my part'tis paltry work; but if so be voices were a talking inyon caveand them that owned those voices were so near to me asthose are to theeI'd go on all fours like a foxand I'd crawl onmy belly like a serpentere I'd lose one word that passes atwixtthose twain."

"WhishtReicht! Bless thee! Bide thou here. Buss me! Pray for me!"

Andalmost ere the agitated words had left her lipsMargaret was flyingtowards the hermitage as noiselessly as a lapwing.

Arrivednear itshe crouchedand there was something truly serpentine inthe glidingflexiblenoiseless movements by which she reached thevery doorand there she found a chinkand listened. And often itcost her a struggle not to burst in upon them; but warned by defeatshe was cautiousand resolutelet well aloneAnd after a whileslowly and noiselessly she reared her headlike a snake its crestto where she saw the broadest chink of alland looked with all hereyes and soulas well as listened.

Thelittle boy then being asked whether he had no daddyat first shookhis headand would say nothing; but being pressed he suddenly seemedto remember somethingand said he"Dad-da ill man; run awayand left poor mum-ma."

Shewho heard this winced. It was as new to her as to Clement. Someinterfering foolish woman had gone and said this to the boyand nowout it came in Gerard's very face. His answer surprised her; he burstout"The villain! the monster! he must be born without bowelsto desert theesweet oneAh! he little knows the joy he has turnedhis back on. Wellmy little doveI must be father and mother totheesince the one runs awayand t'other abandons thee to my care.Now to-morrow I shall ask the good people that bring me my food tofetch some nice eggs and milk for thee as well; for bread is goodenough for poor old good-for-nothing mebut not for thee. And Ishall teach thee to read."

"Ican yeadI can yead."

"Ayverilyso young? all the better; we will read good books togetherand I shall show thee the way to heaven. Heaven is a beautiful placea thousand times fairer and better than earthand there be littlecherubs like thyselfin whiteglad to welcome thee and love thee.Wouldst like to go to heaven one day?"

"Ayalong wi'-my-mammy."

"Whatnot without her then?"

"Nay.I ont my mammy. Where is my mammy?"

(Oh!what it cost poor Margaret not to burst in and clasp him to herheart!)

"Wellfret notsweetheartmayhap she will come when thou art asleep. Wiltthou be good now and sleep?"

"Inot eepy. Ikes to talk."

"Welltalk we then; tell me thy pretty name."

"Baby."And he opened his eyes with amazement at this great hulkingcreature's ignorance.

"Hastnone other?"

"Nay."

"Whatshall I do to pleasure theebaby? Shall I tell thee a story?"

"Iikes tories" said the boyclapping his hands.

"Orsing thee a song?"

"Iikes tongs" and he became excited.

"Choosethena song or a story."

"TingI a tong. Naytell I a tory. Nayting I a tong. Nay - And thecorners of his little mouth turned down and he had half a mind toweep because he could not have bothand could not tell which toforego. Suddenly his little face cleared: "Ting I a tory"said he.

"Singthee a storybaby? Wellafter allwhy not? And wilt thou sit o' myknee and hear it?"

"Yea."

"ThenI must e'en doff this breastplate'Tis too hard for thy soft cheek.So. And now I must doff this bristly cilice; they would prick thytender skinperhaps make it bleedas they have meI see. So. Andnow I put on my best pelissein honour of thy worshipful visit. Seehow soft and warm it is; bless the good soul that sent it; and now Isit me down; so. And I take thee on my left kneeand put my armunder thy little head; soAnd then the psalteryand play a littletune; sonot too loud"

"Iikes dat."

"Iam right glad on't. Now list the story."

Hechanted a child's story in a sort of recitativesinging a littlemoral refrain now and then. The boy listened with rapture.

"Iikes oo" said he"Ot is oo? is oo a man?"

"Aylittle heartand a great sinner to boot."

"Iikes great tingers. Ting one other tory."

StoryNo. 2 was Chanted.

"Iubbs oo" cried the child impetuously"Ot  caftis oo?"

"Iam a hermitlove."

"Iubbs vermins. Ting other one."

Butduring this final performanceNature suddenly held out her leadensceptre over the youthful eyelids. "I is not eepy" whinedhe very faintlyand succumbed.

Clementlaid down his psaltery softly and began to rock his new treasure inhis armsand to crone over him a little lullaby well known inTergouwith which his own mother had often sent him off.

Andthe child sank into a profound sleep upon his arm. And he stoppedcroning and gazed on him with infinite tendernessyet sadness; forat that moment he could not help thinking what might have been butfor a piece of paper with a lie in it.

Hesighed deeply.

Thenext moment the moonlight burst into his celland with itand initand almost as swift as itMargaret Brandt was down at his kneewith a timorous hand upon his shoulder.

"GERARDYOU DO NOT REJECT USYOU CANNOT."

 

CHAPTERXCV

Thestartled hermit glared from his nurseling to Margaretand from herto himin amazementequalled only by his agitation at her sounexpected return. The child lay asleep on his left armand she wasat his right knee; no longer the palescaredpanting girl he hadoverpowered so easily an hour or two agobut an imperial beautywith blushing cheeks and sparkling eyesand lips sweetly parted intriumphand her whole face radiant with a look he could not quiteread; for he had never yet seen it on her: maternal pride.

Hestared and stared from the child to herin throbbing amazement.

"Us?"he gasped at last. And still his wonder-stricken eyes turned to andfro.

Margaretwas surprised in her turnIt was an age of impressions not facts"What!" she cried"doth not a father know his ownchild? and a man of Godtoo? FieGerardto pretend! naythou arttoo wisetoo goodnot to have - whyI watched thee; and e'en nowlook at you twain! 'Tis thine own flesh and blood thou holdest tothine heart."

Clementtrembled"What words are these" he stammered"thisangel mine?"

"Whoseelse? since he is mine."

Clementturned on the sleeping childwith a look beyond the power of the pento describeand trembled all overas his eyes seemed to absorb thelittle love.

Margaret'seyes followed his. "He is not a bit like me" said sheproudly; "but ohat whiles he is thy very image in little; andsee this golden hair. Thine was the very colour at his age; askmother else. And see this mole on his little finger; now look atthine own; there! 'Twas thy mother let me weet thou wast marked sobefore him; and ohGerard'twas this our child found thee for me;for by that little mark on thy finger I knew thee for his fatherwhen I watched above thy window and saw thee feed the birds."Here she seized the child's handand kissed it eagerlyand got halfof it into her mouthHeaven knows how"Ah! bless theethoudidst find thy poor daddy for herand now thou hast made us friendsagain after our little quarrel; the firstthe last. Wast very cruelto me but nowmy poor Gerardand I forgive thee; for loving of thychild."

"Ah!ah! ah! ah! ah!" sobbed Clementchoking. And lowered by fastsand unnerved by solitudethe once strong man was hystericalandnearly fainting.

Margaretwas alarmedbut having experienceher pity was greater than herfear. "Naytake not on so" she murmured soothinglyandput a gentle hand upon his brow. "Be brave! Soso. Dear heartthou art not the first man that hath gone abroad and come back richerby a lovely little self than he went forth. Being a man of Godtakecourageand say He sends thee this to comfort thee for what thouhast lost in me; and that is not so very muchmy lamb; for sure thebetter part of love shall ne'er cool here to thee; though it may inthineand oughtbeing a priestand parson of Gouda."

"I?priest of Gouda? Never!" murmured Clement in a faint voice; "Iam a friar of St. Dominic: yet speak onsweet musictell me allthat has happened theebefore we are parted again."

Nowsome would on this have exclaimed against parting at alland raisedthe true question in dispute. But such women as Margaret do notrepeat their mistakes. It is very hard to defeat them twicewheretheir hearts are set on a thing.

Sheassentedand turned her back on Gouda manse as a thing not to berecurred to; and she told him her taledwelling above all on thekindness to her of his parents; and while she related her troubleshis hand stole to hersand often she felt him wince and tremble withireand often press her handsympathizing with her in every vein.

"Ohpiteous tale of a true heart battling alone against such bitterodds" said he.

"Itall seems smallwhen I see thee here againand nursing my boy. Wehave had a warningGerard. True friends like you and me are rareand they are mad to partere death divideth them."

"Andthat is true" said Clementoff his guard.

Andthen she would have him tell her what he had suffered for herand hebegged her to excuse himand she consented; but by questions quietlyrevoked her consent and elicited it all; and many a sigh she heavedfor himand more than once she hid her face in her hands with terrorat his perilsthough past. And to console him for all he had gonethroughshe kneeled down and put her arms under the little boyandlifted him gently up. "Kiss him softly" she whispered."Againagain kiss thy fill if thou canst; he is sound. 'Tis allI can do to comfort thee till thou art out of this foul den and inthy sweet manse yonder."

Clementshook his head.

"Well"said she"let that pass. Know that I have been sore affrontedfor want of my lines."

"Whohath dared affront thee?"

"Nomatterthose that will do it again if thou hast lost themwhich thesaints forbid."

"Ilose them? naythere they lieclose to thy hand."

"Wherewhereohwhere?"

Clementhung his head. "Look in the Vulgate. Heaven forgive me: Ithought thou wert deadand a saint in heaven."

Shelookedand on the blank leaves of the poor soul's Vulgate she foundher marriage lines.

"ThankGod!" she cried"thank God! Ohbless theeGerardblessthee! Whywhat is hereGerard?"

Onthe other leaves were pinned every scrap of paper she had ever senthimand their two names she had once written together in sportandthe lock of her hair she had given himand half a silver coin shehad broken with himand a straw she had sucked her soup with thefirst day he ever saw her.

WhenMargaret saw these proofs of love and signs of a gentle heartbereavedeven her exultation at getting back her marriage lines wasoverpowered by gushing tenderness. She almost staggeredand her handwent to her bosomand she leaned her brow against the stone cell andwept so silently that he did not see she was weeping; indeed shewould not let himfor she felt that to befriend him now she must bethe stronger; and emotion weakens.

"Gerard"said she"I know you are wise and good. You must have a reasonfor what you are doinglet it seem ever so unreasonable. Talk welike old friends. Why are you buried alive?"

"Margaretto escape temptation. My impious ire against those two had its rootin the heart; that heart then I must deadenandDei gratiaIshall. Shall Ia servant of Christ and of the Churchcourttemptation? Shall I pray daily to be led out on'tand walk into itwith open eyes?"

"Thatis good sense anyway" said Margaretwith a consummateaffectation of candour.

"'Tisunanswerable" said Clementwith a sigh.

"Weshall see. Tell mehave you escaped temptation here? Why I ask iswhen I am alonemy thoughts are far more wild and foolish than incompany. Nayspeak sooth; come!"

"Imust needs own I have been worse tempted here with evil imaginationsthan in the world."

"Therenow."

"Aybut so were Anthony and JeromeMacarius and HilarionBenedictBernardand all the saints. 'Twill wear off."

"Howdo you know?"

"Ifeel sure it will."

"Guessingagainst knowledge. Here 'tis men folk are sillier than us that be butwomen. Wise in their own conceitsthey will not let themselves see;their stomachs are too high to be taught by their eyes. A womanifshe went into a hole in a bank to escape temptationand there founditwould just lift her farthingale and out on'tand not e'en knowhow wise she wastill she watched a man in like plight."

"NayI grant humility and a teachable spirit are the roads to wisdom; butwhen all is saidhere I wrestle but with imagination. At Gouda she Ilove as no priest or monk must love any but the angelsshe willtempt a weak soulunwillingyet not loth to be tempted."

"Aythat is another matter; I should tempt thee then? to whati' God'sname?"

"Whoknows? The flesh is weak."

"Speakfor yourselfmy lad. Whyyou are thinking of some other Margaretnot Margaret a Peter. Was ever my mind turned to folly and frailty?Stayis it because you were my husband onceas these lines avouch?Think you the road to folly is beaten for you more than another? Oh!how shallow are the wiseand how little able are you to read mewhocan read you so well from top to toeComelearn thine A B C. Were astranger to proffer me unchaste loveI should shrink a bitnodoubtand feel sorebut I should defend myself without making acoil; for menI knoware sothe best of them sometimes. But ifyouthat have been my husbandand are my child's fatherwere tooffer to humble me so in mine own eyesand thineand hiseither Ishould spit in thy faceGerardoras I am not a downright vulgarwomanI should snatch the first weapon at hand and strike theedead."

AndMargaret's eyes flashed fireand her nostrils expandedthat it wasglorious to see; and no one that did see her could doubt hersincerity.

"Ihad not the sense to see that" said Gerard quietly. And hepondered.

Margareteyed him in silenceand soon recovered her composure.

"Letnot you and I dispute" said she gently; "speak we of otherthings. Ask me of thy folk."

"Myfather?"

"Welland warms to thee and me. Poor soula drew glaive on those twainthat daybut Jorian Ketel and I we mastered himand he drove themforth his house for ever."

"Thatmay not be; he must take them back."

"Thathe will never do for us. You know the man; he is dour as iron; yetwould he do it for one word from one that will not speak it."

"Who?"

"Thevicar of GoudaThe old man will be at the manse to-morrowI hear."

"Howyou come back to that."

"Forgiveme: I am but a woman. It is us for nagging; shouldst keep me from itwi' questioning of me."

"Mysister Kate?"

"Alas!"

"Whathath ill befallen e'en that sweet lily? Out and alas!"

"Becalmsweetheartno harm hath her befallen. Ohnaynayfar fro'that." Then Margaret forced herself to be composedand in alowsweetgentle voice she murmured to him thus:

"Mypoor GerardKate hath left her trouble behind her. For the manneron't'twas like the rest. Ahsuch as she saw never thirtynor evershall while earth shall last. She smiled in pain too. A wellthenthus 'twas: she was took wi' a languor and a loss of all her pains."

"Aloss of her pains? I understand you not."

"Ayyou are not experienced; indeede'en thy mother almost blindedherself and said''Tis maybe a change for the better.' But JoanKetelwhich is an understanding womanshe looked at her and said'Down sundown wind!' And the gossips sided and said'Be braveyouthat are her motherfor she is half way to the saints.' And thymother wept sorebut Kate would not let her; and one very ancientwomanshe said to thy mother'She will die as easy as she livedhard.' And she lay painless best part of three daysa sipping ofheaven afore- handAndmy dearwhen she was just partingsheasked for 'Gerard's little boy' and I brought him and set him on thebedand the little thing behaved as peaceably as he does now. But bythis time she was past speaking; but she pointed to a drawerand hermother knew what to look for: it was two gold angels thou hadst givenher years ago. Poor soul! she had kept thentill thou shouldst comehome. And she nodded towards the little boyand looked anxious; butwe understood herand put the pieces in his two handsand when hislittle fingers closed on themshe smiled content. And so she gaveher little earthly treasures to her favourite's child - for you wereher favourite - and her immortal jewel to Godand passed so sweetlywe none of us knew justly when she left us. Well-a-daywell-a-day!"

Gerardwept.

"Shehath not left her like on earth" he sobbed. "Ohhow theaffections of earth curl softly round my heart! I cannot help it; Godmade them after all. Speak onsweet Margaret at thy voice the pastrolls its tides back upon me; the loves and the hopes of youth comefair and gliding into my dark celland darker bosomon waves ofmemory and music."

"GerardI am loth to grieve youbut Kate cried a little when she first tookill at you not being there to close her eyes."

Gerardsighed.

"Youwere within a leaguebut hid your face from her."

Hegroaned.

"Thereforgive me for nagging; I am but a woman; you would not have been socruel to your own flesh and blood knowinglywould you?"

"Ohno."

"Wellthenknow that thy brother Sybrandt lies in my charge with a brokenbackfruit of thy curse."

"Meaculpa! mea culpa!"

"Heis very penitent; be yourself and forgive him this night."

"Ihave forgiven him long ago."

"Thinkyou he can believe that from any mouth but yours? Come! he is butabout two butts' length hence."

"Sonear? Whywhere?"

"AtGouda manse. I took him there yestreen. For I know youthe curse wasscarce cold on your lips when you repented it" (Gerard noddedassent)"and I said to myselfGerard will thank me for takingSybrandt to die under his roof; he will not beat his breast and crymea culpayet grudge three footsteps to quiet a withered brother onhis last bed. He may have a bee in his bonnetbut he is not ahypocritea thing all pious words and uncharitable deeds."

Gerardliterally staggered where he sat at this tremendous thrust.

"Forgiveme for nagging" said she. "Thy mother too is waiting forthee. Is it well done to keep her on thorns so long She will notsleep this nightBethink theeGerardshe is all to thee that I amto this sweet child. AhI think so much more of mothers since I hadmy little Gerard. She suffered for theeand nursed theeand tendedthee from boy to man. Priest monkhermitcall thyself what thouwiltto her thou art but one thing; her child."

"Whereis she?" murmured Gerardin a quavering voice.

"AtGouda mansewearing the night in prayer and care."

ThenMargaret saw the time was come for that appeal to his reason she hadpurposely reserved till persuasion should have paved the way forconviction. So the smith first softens the iron by fireand thenbrings down the sledge hammer.

Sheshowed himbut in her own good straightforward Dutchthat hispresent life was only a higher kind of selfishnessspiritualegotism; whereas a priest had no more right to care only for his ownsoul than only for his own body. That was not his path to heaven."But" said she"whoever yet lost his soul by savingthe souls of others! the Almighty loves him who thinks of others; andwhen He shall see thee caring for the souls of the folk the duke hathput into thine handHe will care ten times more for thy soul than Hedoes now."

Gerardwas struck by this remark. "Art shrewd in dispute" saidhe.

"Farfrom it" was the reply"only my eyes are not bandagedwith }{\field\fldedit{\*\fldinst{\fs22\lang2057\langfe1040\loch\af1\hich\af1\dbch\af23\langnp2057HYPERLINK "" \\l "CONCEIT" }}{\fldrslt {\cs15\fs22\ul\cf2\lang2057\langfe1040\loch\af1\hich\af1\dbch\af23\langnp2057conceit}} . So long as Satan walks the whole earthtempting menandso long as the sons of Belial do never lock themselves in cavesbutrun like ants to and fro corrupting othersthe good man that skulksapart plays the devil's gameor at least gives him the odds: thou asoldier of Christ? ask thy Comrade Denyswho is but a soldier of thedukeask him if ever he skulked in a hole and shunned the battlebecause forsooth in battle is danger as well as glory and duty. Forthy sole excuse is fear; thou makest no secret on'tGo tono dukenor king hath such cowardly soldiers as Christ hath. What was thatyou said in the church at Rotterdam about the man in the parable thatburied his talent in the earthand so offended the giver? Thywonderful gift for preachingis it not a talentand a gift from thyCreator?"

"Certes;such as it is."

"Andhast thou laid it out? or buried it? To whom hast thou preached theseseven months? to bats and owls? Hast buried it in one hole withthyself and thy once good wits?

"TheDominicans are the friars preachers. 'Tis for preaching they werefoundedso thou art false to Dominic as well as to his Master.

"Doyou rememberGerardwhen we were young togetherwhich now are oldbefore our timeas we walked handed in the fieldsdid you but see asheep castaythree fields offyou would leave your sweetheart (byher good will) and run and lift the sheep for charity? WellthenatGouda is not one sheep in evil plightbut a whole flock; some castsome strayedsome sicksome taintedsome a being devouredand allfor the want of a shepherd. Where is their shepherd? lurking in a denlike a wolfa den in his own parish; out fie! out fie!

"Iscented thee outin partby thy kindness to the little birds. Takenoteyou Gerard Eliassoen must love something'tis in your blood;you were born to't. Shunning manyou do but seek earthly affection apeg lower than man."

Gerardinterrupted her. "The birds are God's creaturesHis innocentcreaturesand I do well to love thembeing God's creatures."

"Whatare they creatures of the same God that we arethat he is who liesupon thy knee?"

"Youknow they are."

"Thenwhat pretence for shunning us and being kind to them? Sith man is oneof the animalswhy pick him out to shun? Is't because he is ofanimals the paragon? Whatyou court the young of birdsand abandonyour own young? Birds need but bodily foodand having wingsdeservescant pity if they cannot fly and find it. But that sweet dove uponthy kneehe needeth not carnal onlybut spiritual food. He is thineas well as mine; and I have done my share. He will soon be too muchfor meand I look to Gouda's parson to teach him true piety anduseful lore. Is he not of more value than many sparrows?"

Gerardstarted and stammered an affirmation. For she waited for his reply.

"Youwonder" continued she"to hear me quote holy writ soglib. I have pored over it this four yearsand why? Not because Godwrote itbut because I saw it often in thy hands ere thou didstleave me. Heaven forgive meI am but a woman. What thinkest thou ofthis sentence? 'Let your work so shine before men that they may seeyour good works and glorify your Father which is in heaven!' What isa saint in a sink better than 'a light under a bushel!'

"Thereforesince the sheep committed to thy charge bleat for thee and cry'Ohdesert us no longerbut come to Gouda manse;' since Iwho know theeten times better than thou knowest thyselfdo pledge my soul it isfor thy soul's weal to go to Gouda manse - since duty to thy childtoo long abandonedcalls thee to Gouda manse - since thy sovereignwhom holy writ again bids thee honoursends thee to Gouda manse -since the Popewhom the Church teaches thee to revere hath absolvedthee of thy monkish vowsand orders thee to Gouda manse-

"Ah!"

"Sincethy grey-haired mother watches for thee in dole and careand turnethoft the hour-glass and sigheth sore that thou comest so slow to herat Gouda manse - since thy brotherwithered by thy curseawaits thyforgiveness and thy prayers for his soulnow lingering in his bodyat Gouda manse - take thou in thine arms the sweet bird wi' crest ofgold that nestles to thy bosomand give me thy hand; thy sweethearterst and wifeand now thy friendthe truest friend to thee thisnight that ere man hadand come with me to Gouda manse!"

"ITIS THE VOICE OF AN ANGEL!" cried Clement loudly.

"Thenhearken itand come forth to Gouda manse!"

Thebattle was won.

Margaretlingered behindcast her eye rapidly round the furnitureandselected the Vulgate and the psaltery. The rest she sighed atandlet it lie. The breastplate and the cilice of bristles she took anddashed with feeble ferocity on the floor.

Thenseeing Gerard watch her with surprise from the outsideshe colouredand said"I am but a woman: 'little' will still be 'spiteful.'"

"Whyencumber thyself with those? They are safe."

"Ohshe had a reason."

Andwith this they took the road to Gouda parsonageThe moon and starswere so brightit seemed almost as light as day.

SuddenlyGerard stopped. "My poor little birds!"

"Whatof them?"

"Theywill miss their food. I feed them every day."

"Thechild hath a piece of bread in his cowlTake thatand feed them nowagainst the morn."

"Iwill. NayI will notHe is as innocentand nearer to me and tothee."

Margaretdrew a long breath"'Tis wellHadst taken itI might havehated thee; I am but a woman."

Whenthey had gone about a quarter of a mileGerard sighed.

"Margaret"said he"I must e'en rest; he is too heavy for me"

"Thengive him meand take thou these. Alas! alas! I mind when thouwouldst have run with the child on one shoulderand the mother ont'other."

AndMargaret carried the boy.

"Itrow" said Gerardlooking down"overmuch fasting is notgood for a man."

"Amany die of it each yearwinter time" replied Margaret.

Gerardpondered these simple wordsand eyed her askantcarrying the childwith perfect ease. When they had gone nearly a mile he said withconsiderable surprise"You thought it was but two butts'length."

"NotI."

"Whyyou said so."

"Thatis another matter." She then turned on him the face of aMadonna. "I lied" said she sweetly. "And to save yoursoul and bodyI'd maybe tell a worse lie than thatat need. I ambut a womanAhwellit is but two butts' length from here at anyrate."

"Withouta lie?"

"Humph!Threewithout a lie."

Andsure enoughin a few minutes they came up to the manse.

Acandle was burning in the vicar's parlour. "She is wakingstill" whispered Margaret.

"Beautiful!beautiful!" said Clementand stopped to look at it.

"Whatin Heaven's name?"

"Thatlittle candleseen through the window at night. Look an it be notlike some fair star of size prodigious: it delighteth the eyesandwarmeth the heart of those outside."

"Comeand I'll show thee something better" said Margaretand led himon tiptoe to the window.

Theylooked inand there was Catherine kneeling on the hassockwith her"hours" before her.

"Folkcan pray out of a cave" whispered Margaret. "Ay and hitheaven with their prayers; for 'tis for a sight of thee she prayethand thou art here. NowGerardbe prepared; she is not the woman youknew her; her children's troubles have greatly broken the brisklight-hearted soul. And I see she has been weeping e'en now; she willhave given thee upbeing so late."

"Letme get to her" said Clement hastilytrembling all over.

"Thatdoor! I will bide here."

WhenGerard was gone to the doorMargaretfearing the sudden surprisegave one sharp tap at the window and cried"Mother!" in aloudexpressive voice that Catherine read at once. She clasped herhands together and had half risen from her kneeling posture when thedoor burst open and Clement flung himself wildly on his knees at herkneeswith his arms out to embrace her. She uttered a cry such asonly a mother could"Ah! my darlingmy darling!" andclung sobbing round his neck. And true it wasshe saw neither ahermita priestnor a monkbut just her childlostand despairedofand in her armsAnd after a little while Margaret came inwithwet eyes and cheeksand a holy calm of affection settled by degreeson these sore troubled ones. And they sat all three togetherhand inhandmurmuring sweet and loving converse; and he who sat in themiddle drank right and left their true affection and their humble butgenuine wisdomand was forced to eat a good nourishing mealand atdaybreak was packed off to a snowy bedand by and by awokeas froma hideous dreamfriar and hermit no moreClement no morebutGerard Eliassoenparson of Gouda.

 

CHAPTERXCVI

Margaretwent back to Rotterdam long ere Gerard awokeand actually left herboy behind her. She sent the faithfulsturdy Reicht off to Goudadirectly with a vicar's grey frock and large felt hatand withminute instructions how to govern her new master.

Thenshe went to Jorian Ketel; for she said to herself"he is theclosest I ever metso he is the man for me" and in concertwith him she did two mortal sly things; yet notin my opinionvirulentthough she thought they were; but if I am asked what werethese deeds without a namethe answer isthat as shewho was'buta woman' kept them secret till her dying dayIwho am a man -"Verbum non amplius addam."

Shekept away from Gouda parsonage.

Thingsthat pass little noticed in the heat of argument sometimes rankleafterwards; and when she came to go over all that had passedshe wasoffended at Gerard thinking she could ever forget the priest in thesome time lover"For what did be take me?" said she. Andthis raised a great shyness which really she would not otherwise havefeltbeing downright innocentAnd pride sided with modestyandwhispered"Go no more to Gouda parsonage."

Sheleft little Gerard there to complete the conquest her maternal heartascribed to himnot to her own eloquence and sagacityand to anchorhis father for ever to humanity.

Butthis generous stroke of policy cost her heart dear. She had never yetbeen parted from her boy an hourand she felt sadly strange as wellas desolate without him. After the first day it became intolerable;and what does the poor soul dobut creep at dark up to Goudaparsonageand lurk about the premises like a thief till she sawReicht Heynes in the kitchen aloneThen she tapped softly at thewindow and said"Reichtfor pity's sake bring him out to meunbeknown." With Margaret the person who occupied her thoughtsat the time ceased to have a nameand sank to a pronoun.

Reichtsoon found an excuse for taking little Gerard outand there was ascene of mutual rapturefollowed by mutual tears when mother and boyparted again.

Andit was arranged that Reicht should take him half way to Rotterdamevery dayat a set hourand Margaret meet them. And at thesemeetingsafter the rapturesand after mother and child hadgambolled together like a young cat and her first kittenthe boywould sometimes amuse himself alone at their feetand the two womengenerally seized this opportunity to talk very seriously about LukePetersonThis began thus:

"Reicht"said Margaret"I as good as promised him to marry LukePeterson. 'Say you the word' quoth I'and I'll wed him.'"

"PoorLuke!"

"Pritheewhy poor Luke?"

"Tobe bandied about soatwixt yea and nay."

"WhyReichtyou have not ever been so simple as to cast an eye ofaffection on the boythat you take his part?"

"Me?"said Reichtwith a toss of the head.

"OhI ask your pardon. Wellthenyou can do me a good turn."

"Whisht!whisper! that little darling is listening to every wordand eyeslike saucers."

Onthis both their heads would have gone under one cap.

Twowomen plotting against one boy? Ohyou great cowardly serpents!

Butwhen these stolen meetings had gone on for about five days Margaretbegan to feel the injustice of itand to be irritated as well asunhappy.

Andshe was crying about it when a cart came to her doorand in itclean as a new pennyhis beard close shavedhis hands white assnowand a little colour in his pale facesat the Vicar of Gouda inthe grey frock and large felt hat she had sent him.

Sheran upstairs directlyand washed away all traces of her tearsandput on a capwhich being just taken out of the drawer was cleanertheoreticallythan the one she had onand came down to him.

Heseized both her hands and kissed themand a tear fell upon them. Sheturned her head away at that to hide her own which started.

"Mysweet Margaret" he cried"why is this? Why hold you alooffrom your own good deed? we have been waiting for you every dayandno Margaret."

"Yousaid things."

"What!when I was a hermitand a donkey."

"Ay!no matteryou said things. And you had no reason."

"Forgetall I said there. Who hearkens the ravings of a maniac? for I see nowthat in a few months more I should have been a gibbering idiot; yetno mortal could have persuaded me away but you. Oh what an outlay ofwit and goodness was yours! But it is not here I can thank and blessyou as I ought. Noit is in the home you have given meamong thesheep whose shepherd you have made me; already I love them dearly;there it is I must thank 'the truest friend ever man had.' So now Isay to you as erst you said to mecome to Gouda manse."

"Humph!we will see about that."

"WhyMargaretthink you I had ever kept the dear child so longbut thatI made sure you would be back to him from day to day? Oh he curlsround my very heartstringsbut what is my title to him compared tothine? Confess nowthou hast had hard thoughts of me for this."

"Naynaynot I. Ah! thou art thyself again; wast ever thoughtful ofothers. I have half a mind to go to Gouda mansefor your sayingthat."

"Comethenwith half thy mind'tis worth the whole of other folk's."

"WellI dare say I will; but there is no such mighty hurry" said shecoolly (she was literally burning to go). "Tell me first how youagree with your folk."

"Whyalready my poor have taken root in my heart."

"Ithought as much."

"Andthere are such good creatures among them; simple and roughandsuperstitiousbut wonderfully good."

"OhI leave you alone for seeing a grain of good among a bushel of ill."

"Whisht!whisht! And Margarettwo of them have been ill friends for fouryearsand came to the manse each to get on my blind side. But givethe glory to God I got on their bright sideand made them friendsand laugh at themselves for their folly."

"Butare you in very deed their vicar? answer me that."

"Certes;have I not been to the bishop and taken the oathand rung the churchbelland touched the altarthe missaland the holy cup before thechurch-wardens? And they have handed me the parish seal; seehere itis. Nay'tis a real vicar inviting a true friend to Gouda manse."

"Thenmy mind is at ease. Tell me oceans more."

"Wellsweet onenearest to me of all my parish is a poor cripple that myguardian angel and his (her name thou knowest even by this turning ofthy head away) hath placed beneath my roof. Sybrandt and I are thatwe never were till nowbrothers. 'Twould gladden theeyet saddenthee to hear how we kissed and forgave one another. He is full of thypraisesand wholly in a pious mind; he says he is happier since histrouble than e'er he was in the days of his strength. Oh! out of myhouse he ne'er shall go to any place but heaven."

"Tellme somewhat that happened thyselfpoor soul! All this is goodbutyet no tidings to me. Do I not know thee of old?"

"Welllet me see. At first I was much dazzled by the sun-lightand couldnot go abroad (owl!)but that is passed; and good Reicht Heynes -humph!"

"Whatof her?"

"Thisto thine ear onlyfor she is a diamond. Her voice goes through melike a knifeand all voices seem loud but thinewhich is so mellowsweet. Staynow I'll fit ye with tidings; I spake yesterday with anold man that conceits he is ill-temperedand sweats to pass for suchwith othersbut oh! so threadbareand the best good heart beneath."

"Why'tis a parish of angels" said Margaret ironically.

"Thenwhy dost thou keep out on't?" retorted Gerard. "Wellhewas telling me there was no parish in Holland where the devil hathsuch power as at Gouda; and among his instancessays he'We had ahermitthe holiest in Holland; but being Goudathe devil came forhim this weekand took himbag and baggage; not a ha'porth of himleft but a goodish piece of his skinjust for all the world like ahedgehog'sand a piece o' old iron furbished up.'"

Margaretsmiled.

"Aybut" continued Gerard"the strange thing isthe cave hasverily fallen in; and had I been so perverse as resist theeit hadassuredly buried me dead there where I had buried myself alive.Therefore in this I see the finger of Providencecondemning my lateapproving my presentway of life. What sayest thou?"

"Naycan I pierce the like mysteries? I am but a woman."

"Somewhatmoremethinks. This very tale proves thee my guardian angeland allelse avouches itso come to Gouda manse."

"Wellgo you onI'll follow."

"Nayin the cart with me"

"Notso."

"Why?"

"CanI tell why and whereforebeing a woman? All I know is I seem - tofeel - to wish - to come alone"

"Sobe it then. I leave thee the cartbeingas thou sayesta womanand I'll go a-footbeing a man againwith the joyful tidings of thycoming."

WhenMargaret reached the manse the first thing she saw was the twoGerards togetherthe son performing his capriccios on the plotandthe father slouching on a chairin his great hatwith pencil andpapertrying very patiently to sketch him.

Aftera warm welcome he showed her his attempts. "But in vain I striveto fix him" said he"for he is incarnate quick silverYet do but note his changesinfinitebut none ungracious; all issupple and easy; and how he melteth from one posture to another"He added presently"Woe to illuminators I looking on theesirbabyI see what awkwardlopsidedungainly toads I and my fellowspainted missals withand called them cherubs and seraphs"Finally he threw the paper away in despairand Margaret conveyed itsecretly into her bosom.

Atnight when they sat round the peat fire he bade them observe howbeautiful the brass candlesticks and other glittering metals were inthe glow from the hearth. Catherine's eyes sparkled at thisobservation"And oh the sheets I lie in here" said he"often my conscience pricketh meand saith'Who art thou tolie in lint like web of snow?' Dives was ne'er so flaxed as I. And tothink that there are folk in the world that have all the beautifulthings which I have here yet not content. Let them pass six months ina hermit's cellseeing no face of manthen will they find howlovely and pleasant this wicked world isand eke that men and womenare God's fairest creatures. Margaret was always fairbut never tomy eye so bright as now." Margaret shook her head incredulouslyGerard continued"My mother was ever good and kindbut I notednot her exceeding comeliness till now."

"NorI neither" said Catherine; "a score years ago I might passin a crowdbut not now."

Gerarddeclared to her that each age had its beauty. "See this mildgrey eye" said he"that hath looked motherly love upon somany of usall that love hath left its shadowand that shadow is abeauty which defieth Time. See this delicate lipthese pure whiteteeth. See this well-shaped browwhere comliness Just passeth intoreverence. Art beautiful in my eyesmother dear."

"Andthat is enough for memy darling'Tis time you were in bedchild.Ye have to preach the morn."

AndReicht Heynes and Catherine interchanged a look which said"Wetwo have an amiable maniac to superintend; calls everythingbeautiful"

Thenext day was Sundayand they heard him preach in his own church. Itwas crammed with personswho came curiousbut remained devout.Never was his wonderful gift displayed more powerfully; he washimself deeply moved by the first sight of all his peopleand hisbowels yearned over this flock he had so long neglected. In a singlesermonwhich lasted two hours and seemed to last but twenty minuteshe declared the whole scripture: he terrified the impenitent andthoughtlessconfirmed the waveringconsoled the bereaved and theafflicteduplifted the heart of the poorand when he endedleftthe multitude standing raptand unwilling to believe the divinemusic of his voice and soul had ceased.

NeedI say that two poor women in a corner sat entrancedwith streamingeyes.

"Wherevergat he it all?" whispered Catherinewith her apron to her eyes."By our Lady not from me."

Assoon as they were by themselves Margaret threw her arms roundCatherine's neck and kissed her.

"MothermotherI am not quite a happy womanbut oh I am a proud one."

Andshe vowed on her knees never by word or deed to let her love comebetween this young saint and Heaven.

Readerdid you ever stand by the seashore after a stormwhen the windhappens to have gone down suddenly? The waves cannot cease with theircause; indeedthey seem at first to the ear to lash the soundingshore more fiercely than while the wind blew. Still we are consciousthat inevitable calm has begunand is now but rocking them to sleep.So it was with those true and tempest-tossed lovers from thateventful night when they went hand in hand beneath the stars fromGouda hermitage to Gouda manse.

Attimes a loud wave would every now and then come roaringbut it wasonly memory's echo of the tempest that had swept their lives; thestorm itself was overand the boiling waters began from that momentto go downdowndowngentlybut inevitably.

Thisimage is to supply the place of interminable details that would betedious and tame. What best merits attention at present is thegeneral situationand the strange complication of feeling that arosefrom it. History itselfthough a far more daring story-teller thanromancepresents few things so strangeas the footing on which Gerard and Margaret now lived for many years.United by present affectionpast familiarityand a marriageirregular but legal; separated by Holy Church and by their ownconscienceswhich sided unreservedly with Holy Church; separated bythe Churchbut united by a living pledge of affectionlawful inevery sense at its date.

Andliving but a few miles from one anotherand she calling his mother"mother" For some years she always took her boy to Goudaon Sundayreturning home at darkGo when she wouldit was alwaysfete at Gouda manseand she was received like a little queen.Catherine in these days was nearly always with herand Eli veryoftenTergou had so little to tempt them compared with Rotterdam;and at last they left it altogetherand set up in the capital.

Andthus the years glided; so barren now of striking incidentsso voidof great hopesand free from great fearsand so like one anotherthat without the help of dates I could scarcely indicate the progressof time.

Howeverearly next year1471the Duchess of Burgundywith the opendissentbut secret connivance of the Dukeraised forces to enableher dethroned brotherEdward the Fourth of Englandto invade thatkingdom; our old friend Denys thus enlistedand passing throughRotterdam to the shipsheard on his way that Gerard was a priestand Margaret alone. On this he told Margaret that marriage was not ahabit of hisbut that as his comrade had put it out of his own powerto keep trothhe felt bound to offer to keep it for him; "for acomrade's honour is dear to us as our own" said he.

Shestaredthen smiled"I choose rather to be still thyshe-comrade" said she; "closer acquaintedwe might notagree so well" And in her character of she-comrade she equippedhim with a new sword of Antwerp makeand a double handful of silver."I give thee no gold" said she"for 'tis thrown awayas quick as silverand harder to win back. Heaven send thee safe outof all thy perils; there be famous fair women yonder to beguile theewith their facesas well as men to hash thee with their axes."

Hewas hurried on board at La Vereand never saw Gerard at that time.

In1473 Sybrandt began to fail. His pitiable existence had beensweetened by his brother's inventive tenderness and his own contentedspiritwhichhis antecedents consideredwas truly remarkableAsfor Gerardthe day never passed that he did not devote two hours tohim; reading or singing to himpraying with himand drawing himabout in a soft carriage Margaret and he had made between them. Whenthe poor soul found his end nearhe begged Margaret might be sentfor. She came at onceand almost with his last breath he sought oncemore that forgiveness she had long ago accorded. She remained by himtill the last; and he diedblessing and blessedin the arms of thetwo true lovers he had parted for life. Tantum religio scit suadereboni.

1474there was a wedding in Margaret's houseLuke Peterson and ReichtHeynes.

Thismay seem less strange if I give the purport of the dialogueinterrupted some time back.

Margaretwent on to say"Then in that case you can easily make him fancyyouand for my sake you mustfor my conscience it pricketh meandI must needs fit him with a wifethe best I know." Margaretthen instructed Reicht to be always kind and good-humoured to Luke;and she would be a model of peevishness to him"But be not thouso simple as run me down" said she"Leave that to me.Make thou excuses for me; I will make myself black enow."

Reichtreceived these instructions like an order to sweep a roomand obeyedthem punctually.

Whenthey had subjected poor Luke to this double artillery for a couple ofyearshe got to look upon Margaret as his fog and windand Reichtas his sunshine; and his affections transferred themselveshe scarceknew how or when

Onthe wedding day Reicht embraced Margaretand thanked her almost withtears. "He was always my fancy" said she"from thefirst hour I clapped eyes on him."

"Heydayyou never told me that. WhatReichtare you as sly as the rest?"

"Naynay" said Reicht eagerly; "but I never thought you wouldreally part with him to me. In my country the mistress looks to beserved before the maid."

Margaretsettled them in her shopand gave them half the profits.

1476and 7 were years of great trouble to Gerardwhose consciencecompelled him to oppose the Pope. His Holinesssiding with the GreyFriars in their determination to swamp every palpable distinctionbetween the Virgin Mary and her Sonbribed the Christian world intohis crotchet by proffering pardon of all sins to such as would add tothe Ave Mary this clause: "and blessed be thy Mother Annafromwhomwithout blot of sinproceeded thy virgin flesh."

Gerardin common with many of the northern clergyheld this sentence to beflat heresy. He not only refused to utter it in his churchbutwarned his parishioners against using it in private; and he refusedto celebrate the new feast the Pope invented at the same timeviz."the feast of the miraculous conception of the Virgin."

Butthis drew upon him the bitter enmity of the Franciscansand theywere strong enough to put him into more than one serious difficultyand inflict many a little mortification on him. In emergencies heconsulted Margaretand she always did one of two thingseither shesaid"I do not see my way" and refused to guess; or elseshe gave him advice that proved wonderfully sagacious. He had geniusbut she had marvellous tact.

Andwhere affection came in and annihilated the woman's judgmenthestepped in his turn to her aid. Thus though she knew she was spoilinglittle Gerardand Catherine was ruining him for lifeshe would notpart with himbut kept him at homeand his abilities uncultivated.And there was a shrewd boy of nine yearsinstead of learning to workand obeyplaying about and learning selfishness from their infiniteunselfishnessand tyrannizing with a rod of iron over two womenboth of them sagacious and spiritedbut reduced by their fondnessfor him to the exact level of idiots.

Gerardsaw this with painand interfered with mild but firm remonstrance;and after a considerable struggle prevailedand got little Gerardsent to the best school in Europekept by one Haaghe at Deventer:this was in 1477. Many tears were shedbut the great progress theboy made at that famous school reconciled Margaret in some degreeand the fidelity of Reicht Heynesnow her partner in businessenabled her to spend weeks at a time hovering over her boy atDeventer.

Andso the years glided; and these two personssubjected to as strongand constant a temptation as can well be conceivedwere each other'sguardian angelsand not each other's tempters.

Tobe sure the well-greased morality of the next centurywhich taughtthat solemn vows to God are sacred in proportion as they arereasonablehad at that time entered no single mind; and thealternative to these two minds was self-denial or sacrilege.

Itwas a strange thing to hear them talk with unrestrained tenderness toone another of their boyand an icy barrier between themselves allthe time.

Eightyears had now passed thusand Gerardfairly compared with men ingeneralwas happy.

ButMargaret was not.

Thehabitual expression of her face was a sweet pensivenessbutsometimes she was irritable and a little petulant. She even snappedGerard now and then. And when she went to see himif a monk was withhim she would turn her back and go home. She hated the monks forhaving parted Gerard and herand she inoculated her boy with acontempt for them which lasted him till his dying day.

Gerardbore with her like an angel. He knew her heart of goldand hopedthis ill gust would blow over.

Hehimself being now the right man in the right place this many yearsloving his parishionersand beloved by themand occupied from morntill night in good worksrecovered the natural cheerfulness of hisdisposition. To tell the trutha part of his jocoseness was a blind;he was the greatest peace-makerexcept MrHarmony in the playthatever was born. He reconciled more enemies in ten years than hispredecessors had done in three hundred; and one of his manoeuvres inthe peacemaking art was to make the quarrellers laugh at the cause ofquarrel. So did he undermine the demon of discord. But independentlyof thathe really loved a harmless joke. He was a wonderful tamer ofanimalssquirrelsbaresfawnsetc. So half in jest a parishionerwho

hada mule supposed to be possessed with a devil gave it him and said"Tame this vagaboneparsonif ye can." Wellin about sixmonthsHeaven knows howhe not only tamed Jackbut won hisaffections to such a degreethat Jack would come running to hiswhistle like a dog.

Onedayhaving taken shelter from a shower on the stone settle outside acertain public-househe heard a toper insidea strangerboastinghe could take more at a draught than any man in Gouda. He instantlymarched in and said"Whatladsdo none of ye take him up forthe honour of Gouda? Shall it be said that there came hither one fromanother parish a greater sot than any of us? NaythenI your parsondo take him up. Go toI'll find thee a parishioner shall drink moreat a draught than thou."

Abet was made; Gerard whistled; in clattered Jack - for he was taughtto come into a room with the utmost composure - and put his nose intohis backer's hand.

"Apair of buckets!" shouted Gerard"and let us see which ofthese two sons of asses can drink most at a draught."

Onanother occasion two farmers had a dispute whose hay was the best.Failing to convince each otherthey said"We'll ask parson;"for by this time he was their referee in every mortal thing.

"Howlucky you thought of me!" said Gerard"WhyI have got onestaying with me who is the best judge of hay in Holland. Bring me adouble handful apiece."

Sowhen they camehe had them into the parlourand put each bundle ona chair. Then he whistledand in walked Jack.

"Lorda mercy!" said one of the farmers.

"Jack"said the parsonin the tone of conversation"just tell uswhich is the best hay of these two."

Jacksniffed them bothand made his choice directlyproving hissincerity by eating every morsel. The farmers slapped their thighsand scratched their heads. "To think of we not thinking o'that" And they each sent Jack a truss.

SoGerard got to be called the merry parson of Gouda. But Margaretwholike most loving women had no more sense of humour than aturtle-dovetook this very ill. "What!" said she toherself"is there nothing sore at the bottom of his heart thathe can go about playing the zany?" She could understand piousresignation and contentbut not mirthin true lovers parted. Andwhilst her woman's nature was perturbed by this gust (and women seemmore subject to gusts than men) came that terrible animalabusybodyto work upon her. Catherine saw she was not happyand saidto her"Your boy is gone from you. I would not live alone allmy days if I were you."

"Heis more alone than I" sighed Margaret.

"Oha man is a manbut a woman is a woman. You must not think all of himand none of yourself. Near is your kirtlebut nearer is your smock.Besideshe is a priestand can do no better. But you are not apriest. He has got his parishand his heart is in that. Bethinkthee! Time flies; overstay not thy market. Wouldst not like to havethree or four more little darlings about thy knee now they haverobbed thee of poor little Gerardand sent him to yon nasty school?"And so she worked upon a mind already irritated.

Margarethad many suitors ready to marry her at a word or even a lookandamong them two merchants of the better classVan Schelt andOostwagen. "Take one of those two" said Catherine.

"WellI will ask Gerard if I may" said Margaret one daywith a floodof tears; "for I cannot go on the way I am."

"Whyyou would never be so simple as ask him?"

"Thinkyou I would be so wicked as marry without his leave?"

Accordinglyshe actually went to Goudaand after hanging her headand blushingand cryingand saying she was miserabletold him his mother wishedher to marry one of those two; and if he approved of her marrying atallwould he use his wisdomand tell her which he thought would bethe kindest to the little Gerard of those two; for herselfshe didnot care what became of her.

Gerardfelt as if she had put a soft hand into his body and torn his heartout with it. But the priest with a mighty effort mastered the man. Ina voice scarcely audible he declined this responsibility. "I amnot a saint or a prophet" said he; "I might advise theeill. I shall read the marriage service for thee" faltered he;"it is my right. No other would pray for thee as I should. Butthou must choose for thyself; and oh! let me see thee happy. Thisfour months past thou hast not been happy."

"Adiscontented mind is never happy" said Margaret.

Sheleft himand he fell on his kneesand prayed for help from above.

Margaretwent home pale and agitated. "Mother" said she"nevermention it to me againor we shall quarrel."

"Heforbade you? Wellmore shame for himthat is all."

"Heforbid me? He did not condescend so far. He was as noble as I waspaltry. He would not choose for me for fear of choosing me an illhusband. But he would read the service for my groom and me; that washis right. Ohmotherwhat a heartless creature I was!"

"WellI thought not he had that much sense."

"Ahyou go by the poor soul's wordsbut I rate words as air when theface speaketh to mine eye. I saw the priest and the true lovera-fighting in his dear faceand his cheek pale with the strifeandoh! his poor lip trembled as he said the stout-hearted words - Oh!oh! oh! oh! oh! oh! oh!" And Margaret burst into a violentpassion of tears.

Catherinegroaned. "Theregive it up without more ado" said she."You two are chained together for life; and if God is mercifulthat won't be for long; for what are you neither maidwifenorwidow."

"Giveit up?" said Margaret; "that was done long ago. All I thinkof now is comforting him; for now I have been and made him unhappytoowretch and monster that I am."

Sothe next day they both went to Gouda. And Gerardwho had beenpraying for resignation all this timereceived her with peculiartenderness as a treasure he was to lose; but she was agitated andeager to let him see without words that she would never marryandshe fawned on him like a little dog to be forgiven. And as she wasgoing away she murmured"Forgive! and forget! I am but awoman."

Hemisunderstood herand said"All I bargain for islet me seethee content; for pity's sakelet me not see thee unhappy as I havethis while."

"Mydarlingyou never shall again" said Margaretwith streamingeyesand kissed his hand.

Hemisunderstood this too at first; but when month after month passedand he heard no more of her marriageand she came to Goudacomparatively cheerfuland was even civil to Father Ambrosea mildbenevolent monk from the Dominican convent hard by - then heunderstood her; and one day he invited her to walk alone with him inthe sacred paddock; and before I relate what passed between themImust give its history.

WhenGerard had been four or five days at the manselooking out of windowhe uttered an exclamation of joy. "MotherMargarethere is oneof my birds: anotheranother: foursixnine. A miracle! amiracle!"

"Whyhow can you tell your birds from their fellows?" said Catherine.

"Iknow every feather in their wings. And see; there is the littledarling whose claw I giltbless it!"

Andpresently his rapture took a serious turnand he saw Heaven'sapprobation in this conduct of the birds as he did in the fall of thecave. This wonderfully kept alive his friendship for animals; and heenclosed a paddockand drove all the sons of Cain from it withthreats of excommunication"On this little spot of earth we'llhave no murder" said he. He tamed leverets and partridgesandlittle birdsand haresand roe-deer. He found a squirrel with abroken leg; he set it with infinite difficulty and patience; andduring the cure showed it repositories of acornsnutschestnutsetc. And this squirrel got well and went offbut visited him in hardweatherand brought a mateand next year little squirrels werefound to have imbibed their parents' sentimentsand of all theseanimals each generation was tamer than the last. This set the goodparson thinkingand gave him the true clue to the great successes ofmediaeval hermits in taming wild animals

Hekept the key of this paddockand never let any man but himself enterit; nor would he even let little Gerard go there without him orMargaret. "Children are all little Cains" said he. In thisoasisthenhe spoke to Margaretand said"Dear MargaretIhave thought more than ever of thee of lateand have asked myselfwhy I am contentand thou unhappy."

"Becausethou art betterwiserholier than I; that is all" saidMargaret promptly.

"Ourlives tell another tale" said Gerard thoughtfully. "I knowthy goodness and thy wisdom too well to reason thus perversely. AlsoI know that I love thee as dear as thouI thinklovest me. Yet am Ihappier than thou. Why is this so?"

"DearGerardI am as happy as a woman can hope to be this side of thegrave."

"Notso happy as I. Now for the reason. FirstthenI am a priestandthisthe one great trial and disappointment God giveth me along withso many joyswhyI share it with a multitude. For alas! I am notthe only priest by thousands that must never hope for entire earthlyhappiness. Herethenthy lot is harder than mine."

"ButGerardI have my child to love. Thou canst not fill thy heart withhim as his mother canSo you may set this against you."

"AndI have ta'en him from thee; it was cruel; but he would have brokenthy heart one day if I had not. Well thensweet oneI come to wherethe shoe pinchethmethinks. I have my parishand it keeps my heartin a glow from morn till night. There is scarce an emotion that myfolk stir not up in me many times a day. Often their sorrows make meweepsometimes their perversity kindles a little wrathand theirabsurdity makes me laughand sometimes their flashes of unexpectedgoodness do set me all of a glowand I could hug 'em. Meantime thoupoor soulsittest with heart -

"OfleadGerard; of very lead."

"Seenow how unkind thy lot compared with mineNow how if thou couldst bepersuaded to warm thyself at the fire that warmeth me."

"Ahif I could?"

"Hastbut to will it. Come among my folk. Take in thine hand the alms I setasideand give it with kind words; hear their sorrows: they shallshow you life is full of troublesand as thou sayest trulyno manor woman without their thorn this side the grave. Indoors I have amap of Gouda parish. Not to o'erburden thee at firstI will puttwenty housen under thee with their folk. What sayest thou? but forthy wisdom I had died a dirty maniac' and ne'er seen Gouda mansenor pious peace. Wilt profit in turn by what little wisdom I have tosoften her lot to whom I do owe all?"

Margaretassented warmlyand a happy thing it was for the little districtassigned to her; it was as if an angel had descended on them. Herfingers were never tired of knitting or cutting for themher heartof sympathizing with them. And that heart expanded and waved itsdrooping wings; and the glow of good and gentle deed began to spreadover it; and she was rewarded in another way by being brought intomore contact with Gerardand also with his spirit. All this timemalicious tongues had not been idle. "If there is nought betweenthem more than meets the eyewhy doth she not marry?" etc. AndI am sorry to say our old friend Joan Ketel was one of these coarsesceptics. And now one winter evening she got on a hot scent. She sawMargaret and Gerard talking earnestly together on the Boulevard. Shewhipped behind a tree. "Now I'll hear something" said she;and so she did. It was winter; there had been one of those tremendousfloods followed by a sharp frostand Gerard in despair as to wherehe should lodge forty or fifty houseless folk out of the piercingcold. And now it was"Ohdeardear Margaretwhat shall I do?The manse is full of themand a sharp frost coming on this night."

Margaretreflectedand Joan listened.

"Youmust lodge them in the church" said Margaret quietly.

"Inthe church? Profanation."

"No;charity profanes nothingnot even a church; soils noughtnot even achurch. To-day is but Tuesday. Go save their livesfor a bitternight is coming. Take thy stove into the churchand there housethem. We will dispose of them here and there ere the lord's day."

"AndI could not think of that; bless theesweet Margaretthy mind isstronger than mineand readier."

"Naynaya woman looks but a little waytherefore she sees clear. I'llcome over myself to-morrow."

Andon this they parted with mutual blessings.

Joanglided home remorseful.

Andafter that she used to check all surmises to their discredit."Beware" she would say"lest some angel shouldblister thy tongue. Gerard and Margaret paramours? I tell ye they aretwo saints which meet in secret to plot charity to the poor."

Inthe summer of 1481 Gerard determined to provide against similardisasters recurring to his poor. Accordingly he made a great hole inhis incomeand bled his friends (zealous parsons always do that) tobuild a large Xenodochium to receive the victims of flood or fire.Giles and all his friends were kindbut all was not enough; when lo!the Dominican monks of Gouda to whom his parlour and heart had beenopen for yearscame out noblyand put down a handsome sum to aidthe charitable vicar.

"Thedear good souls" said Margaret; "who would have thoughtit?"

"Anyone who knows them" said Gerard"Who more charitable thanmonks?"

"Goto! They do but give the laity back a pig of their own sow."

"Andwhat more do I? What more doth the duke?"

Thenthe ambitious vicar must build almshouses for decayed true men intheir old age close to the mansethat he might keep and feed themas well as lodge them. And his money being gonehe asked Margaretfor a few thousand bricks and just took off his coat and turnedbuilder; and as he had a good headand the strength of a Herculeswith the zeal of an artistup rose a couple of almshouses parsonbuilt.

Andat this work Margaret would sometimes bring him his dinnerand add agood bottle of Rhenish. And once seeing him run up a plank with awheelbarrow full of bricks which really most bricklayers would havegone staggering undershe said"Times are changed since I hadto carry little Gerard for thee."

"Aydear onethanks to thee."

Whenthe first home was finishedthe question was who they should putinto it; and being fastidious over it like a new toythere was muchhesitation. But an old friend arrived in time to settle thisquestion.

AsGerard was passing a public-house in Rotterdam one dayhe heard awell-known voiceHe looked upand there was Denys of Burgundybutsadly changed; his beard stained with greyand his clothes worn andragged; he had a cuirass stilland gauntletsbut a staff instead ofan arbalestTo the company he appeared to be bragging and boastingbut in reality he was giving a true relation of Edward the Fourth'sinvasion of an armed kingdom with 2000 menand his march through thecountry with armies capable of swallowing him looking onhis battlesat Tewkesbury and Barnetand reoccupation of his capital and kingdomin three months after landing at the Humber with a mixed handful ofDutchEnglishand Burgundians.

Inthisthe greatest feat of arms the century had seenDenys hadshone; and whilst sneering at the warlike pretensions of Charles theBolda duke with an itch but no talent for fightingand proclaimingthe English king the first captain of the agedid not forget toexalt himself.

Gerardlistened with eyes glittering affection and fun. "And now"said Denys"after all these featspatted on the back by thegallant young Prince of Gloucesterand smiled on by the greatcaptain himselfhere I am lamed for life; by what? by the kick of ahorseand this night I know not where I shall lay my tired bones. Ihad a comrade once in these parts that would not have let me lie farfrom him; but he turned priest and deserted his sweetheartso 'tisnot likely he would remember his comrade. And ten years play sadhavoc with our heartsand limbsand all." Poor Denys sighedand Gerard's bowels yearned over him.

"Whatwords are these?" he saidwith a great gulp in his throat. "Whogrudges a brave soldier supper and bed? Come home with me!"

"Muchobligedbut I am no lover of priests."

"NorI of soldiers; but what is supper and bed between two true men?"

"Notmuch to youbut something to me. I will come."

"Inone hour" said Gerardand went in high spirits to Margaretand told her the treat in storeand she must come and share it. Shemust drive his mother in his little carriage up to the manse with allspeedand make ready an excellent supper. Then he himself borrowed acartand drove Denys up rather slowlyto give the women time.

Onthe road Denys found out this priest was a kind soulso told him histroubleand confessed his heart was pretty near broken. "Thegreat use our stout heartsand armsand lives till we are worn outand then fling us away like broken tools." He sighed deeplyandit cost Gerard a great struggle not to hug him then and thereandtell him. But he wanted to do it all like a story book. Who has nothad this fancy once in his life? Why Joseph had it; all the betterfor us.

Theylanded at the little house. It was as clean as a pennythe hearthblazingand supper set.

Denysbrightened up. "Is this your housereverend sir?"

"Well'tis my workand with these handsbut 'tis your house."

"Ahno such luck" said Denyswith a sigh.

"ButI say ay" shouted Gerard. "And what is more I - "(gulp) "say - " (gulp) "COURAGECAMARADELE DIABLEEST MORT!"

Denysstartedand almost staggered. "Whywhat?" he stammered"w-wh-who art thouthat bringest me back the merry words andmerry days of my youth?" and he was greatly agitated.

"Mypoor DenysI am one whose face is changedbut nought else; to myheartdeartrusty comradeto my heart" And he opened hisarmswith the tears in his eyes. But Denys came close to himandpeered in his faceand devoured every feature; and when he was sureit was really Gerardhe uttered a cry so vehement it brought thewomen running from the houseand fell upon Gerard's neckand kissedhim again and againand sank on his kneesand laughed and sobbedwith joy so terriblythat Gerard mourned his folly in doing dramas.But the women with their gentle soothing ways soon composed the bravefellowand he sat smilingand holding Margaret's hand and Gerard'sAnd they all supped togetherand went to their beds with hearts warmas a toast; and the broken soldier was at peaceand in his ownhouseand under his comrade's wing.

Hisnatural gaiety returnedand he resumed his consigne after eightyears' disuseand hobbled about the place enlivening it; butoffended the parish mortally by calling the adored vicar comradeandnothing but comrade.

Whenthey made a fuss about this to Gerardhe just looked in their facesand said"What does it matter? Break him of swearingand youshall have my thanks."

Thisyear Margaret went to a lawyer to make her willfor without thisshe was toldher boy might have trouble some day to get his ownnotbeing born in lawful wedlock. The lawyerhoweverin conversationexpressed a different opinion.

"Thisis the babble of churchmen" said he"Yours is a perfectmarriagethough an irregular one."

Hethen informed her that throughout Europeexcepting only the southernpart of Britainthere were three irregular marriagesthe highest ofwhich was hersviz.a betrothal before witnesses"This"said he"if not followed by matrimonial intercourseis amarriage complete in formbut incomplete in substance. A person sobetrothed can forbid any other banns to all eternity. It hashoweverbeen set aside where a party so betrothed contrived to getmarried regularlyand children were born thereafter. But such adecision was for the sake of the offspringand of doubtful justice.Howeverin your case the birth of your child closes that doorandyour marriage is complete both in form and substance. Your coursethereforeis to sue for your conjugal rights; it will be theprettiest case of the century. The law is all on our sidethe Churchall on theirs. If you come to thatthe old Batavian lawwhichcompelled the clergy to marryhath fallen into disusebut was neverformally repealed."

Margaretwas quite puzzled. "What are you driving atsir? Who am I to goto law with?"

"Whois the defendant? Whythe vicar of Gouda."

"Alaspoor soul! And for what shall I law him?"

"Whyto make him take you into his houseand share bed and board withyouto be sure."

Margaretturned red as fire"Gramercy for your rede" said she"Whatis yon a woman's part? Constrain a man to be hers byforce? That is men's way of wooingnot ours. Say I were so ill awoman as ye think meI should set myself to beguile himnot to lawhim;" and she departedcrimson with shame and indignation.

"Thereis an impracticable fool for you" said the man of art

Margarethad her will drawn elsewhereand made her boy safe from povertymarriage or no marriage.

Theseare the principal incidents that in ten whole years befell twopeaceful liveswhich in a much shorter period had been so throngedwith adventures and emotions.

Theirgeneral tenor was now peacepietythe mild content that lastsnotthe fierce bliss ever on tiptoe to departand above allChristiancharity.

Onthis sacred ground these two true lovers met with an uniformity and akindness of sentiment which went far to soothe the wound in their ownheartsTo pity the same bereaved; to hunt in couples all the ills inGoudaand contrive and scheme together to remedy all that wereremediable; to use the rare insight into troubled hearts which theirown troubles had given themand use it to make others happier thanthemselves - this was their daily practice. And in this blessed causetheir passions for one another cooled a littlebut their affectionincreased.

Fromthis time Margaret entered heart and soul into Gerard's piouscharitiesthat affection purged itself of all mortal dross. And asit had now long out-lived scandal and misapprehensionone would havethought that so bright an example of pure self-denying affection wasto remain long before the worldto show men how nearly religiousfaitheven when not quite reasonableand religious charitywhichis always reasonablecould raise two true lovers' hearts to theloving hearts of the angels of heaven. But the great Disposer ofevents ordered otherwise.

LittleGerard rejoiced both his parents' hearts by the extraordinaryprogress he made at Alexander Haaghe's famous school at Deventer.

Thelast time Margaret returned from visiting himshe came to Gerardflushed with pride. "OhGerardhe will be a great man one daythanks to thy wisdom in taking him from us silly women. A greatscholarone Zinthiuscame to see the school and judge the scholarsand didn't our Gerard stand upand not a line in Horace or Terencecould Zinthius cite but the boy would follow him with the rest. 'Why'tis a prodigy' says that great scholar; and there was his poormother stood by and heard it. And he took our Gerard in his armsandkissed him; and what think you he said?"

"NayI know not."

"'Hollandwill hear of thee one day; and not Holland onlybut all the world'Why what a sad brow!"

"SweetoneI am as glad as thouyet am I uneasy to hear the child is wisebefore his timeI love him dear; but he is thine idoland Heavendoth often break our idols"

"Makethy mind easy" said Margaret. "Heaven will never rob me ofmy child. What I was to suffer in this world I have sufferedFor ifany ill happened my child or theeI should not live a week. The LordHe knows thisand He will leave me my boy."

Amonth had elapsed after this; but Margaret's words were yet ringingin his earswhengoing on his daily round of visits to his poorhewas told quite incidentallyand as mere gossipthat the plague wasat Deventercarried thither by two sailors from Hamburgh.

Hisheart turned cold within him. News did not gallop in those days. Thefatal disease must have been there a long time before the tidingswould reach Gouda. He sent a line by a messenger to Margarettellingher that he was gone to fetch little Gerard to stay at the manse alittle whileand would she see a bed preparedfor he should be backnext day. And so he hoped she would not hear a word of the dangertill it was all happily over. He borrowed a good horseand scarcedrew rein till he reached Deventerquite late in the afternoon. Hewent at once to the school. The boy had been taken away.

Ashe left the school he caught sight of Margaret's face at the windowof a neighbouring house she always lodged at when she came toDeventer.

Heran hastily to scold her and pack both her and the boy out of theplace.

Tohis surprise the servant told him with some hesitation that Margarethad been therebut was gone.

"Gonewoman?" said Gerard indignantly"art not ashamed to sayso? WhyI saw her but now at the window."

"Ohif you saw her - "

Asweet voice above said"Stay him notlet him enter." Itwas Margaret.

Gerardran up the stairs to herand went to take her handShe drew backhastily.

Helooked astounded.

"Iam displeased" she said coldly. "What makes you here? Knowyou not the plague is in the town?"

"Aydear Margaret; and came straightway to take our boy away."

"Whathad he no mother?"

"Howyou speak to me! I hoped you knew not."

"Whatthink you I leave my boy unwatched? I pay a trusty woman that notesevery change in his cheek when I am not hereand lets me knowI amhis mother."

"Whereis he?"

"InRotterdamI hopeere this."

"ThankHeaven! And why are you not there?"

"Iam not fit for the journey; never heed me; go you home on theinstant; I'll follow. For shame of you to come here risking yourprecious life."

"Itis not so precious as thine" said Gerard. "But let thatpass; we will go home togetherand on the instant."

"NayI have some matters to do in the town. Go thou at onceand I willfollow forthwith."

"Leavethee alone in a plague-stricken town? To whom speak youdearMargaret?"

"Naythenwe shall quarrelGerard."

"MethinksI see Margaret and Gerard quarrelling! Whyit takes two to quarreland we are but one."

Withthis Gerard smiled on her sweetly. But there was no kind responsiveglance. She looked coldgloomyand troubled.

Hesighedand sat patiently down opposite her with his face all puzzledand saddened. He said nothingfor he felt sure she would explain hercapricious conductor it would explain itself.

Presentlyshe rose hastilyand tried to reach her bedroombut on the way shestaggered and put out her hand. He ran to her with a cry of alarm.She swooned in his arms. He laid her gently on the groundand beather cold handsand ran to her bedroomand fetched waterandsprinkled her pale face. His own was scarce less palefor in a basinhe had seen water stained with blood; it alarmed himhe knew notwhy. She was a long time ere she revivedand when she did she foundGerard holding her handand bending over her with a look of infiniteconcern and tenderness. She seemed at first as if she responded toitbut the next moment her eyes dilatedand she cried - "Ahwretchleave my hand; how dare you touch me?"

"Heavenhelp her!" said Gerard. "She is not herself."

"Youwill not leave methenGerard?" said she faintly. "Alas!why do I ask? Would I leave thee if thou wert - At least touch menotand then I will let thee bideand see the last of poorMargaret. She ne'er spoke harsh to thee beforesweetheartand shenever will again."

"Alas!what mean these dark wordsthese wild and troubled looks?" saidGerardclasping his hands.

"Mypoor Gerard" said Margaret"forgive me that I spoke so tothee. I am but a womanand would have spared thee a sight will makethee weep." She burst into tears. "Ahme!" she criedweeping"that I cannot keep grief from thee; there is a greatsorrow before my darlingand this time I shall not be able to comeand dry his eyes."

"Letit comeMargaretso it touch not thee" said Gerardtrembling.

"Dearest"said Margaret solemnly"call now religion to thine aid andmine. I must have died before thee one dayor else outlived thee andso died of grief."

"Died?thou die? I will never let thee die. Where is thy pain? What is thytrouble?"

"Theplague" she said calmly. Gerard uttered a cry of horrorandstarted to his feet; she read his thought. "Useless" saidshe quietly. "My nose hath bled; none ever yet survived to whomthat came along with the plague. Bring no fools hither to babble overthe body they cannot save. I am but a woman; I love not to be staredat; let none see me die but thee."

Andeven with this a convulsion seized herand she remained sensible butspeechless a long time.

Andnow for the first time Gerard began to realize the frightful truthand he ran wildly to and froand cried to Heaven for helpasdrowning men cry to their fellow-creatures. She raised herself on herarmand set herself to quiet him.

Shetold him she had known the torture of hopes and fearsand wasresolved to spare him that agony. "I let my mind dwell too muchon the danger" said she"and so opened my brain to itthrough which door when this subtle venom enters it makes short work.I shall not be spotted or loathsomemy poor darling; God is goodand spares thee that; but in twelve hours I shall be a dead woman.Ahlook not sobut be a man; be a priest! Waste not one preciousminute over my body! it is doomed; but comfort my parting soul."

Gerardsick and cold at heartkneeled downand prayed for help from Heavento do his duty.

Whenhe rose from his knees his face was pale and oldbut deadly calm andpatient. He went softly and brought her bed into the roomand laidher gently down and supported her head with pillows. Then he prayedby her side the prayers for the dyingand she said Amen to eachprayer. Then for some hours she wanderedbut when the fell diseasehad quite made sure of its preyher mind clearedand she beggedGerard to shrive her. "For ohmy conscience it is laden"she said sadly.

"Confessthy sins to memy daughter: let there be no reserve."

"Myfather" said she sadly"I have one great sin on my breastthis many years. E'en now that death is at my heart I can scarce ownit. But the Lord is debonair; if thou wilt pray to Himperchance Hemay forgive me."

"Confessit firstmy daughter."

"I- alas!"

"Confessit!"

"Ideceived thee. This many years I have deceived thee."

Heretears interrupted her speech.

"Couragemy daughtercourage" said Gerard kindlyoverpowering thelover in the priest.

Shehid her face in her handsand with many sighs told him it was shewho had broken down the hermit's cave with the help of Jorian Ketel"Ishallowdid it but to hinder thy return thither; but whenthou sawest therein the finger of GodI played the traitressandsaid'While he thinks sohe will ne'er leave Gouda manse;' and Iheld my tongue. Ohfalse heart."

"Couragemy daughter; thou dost exaggerate a trivial fault."

"Ahbut 'tis not allThe birds."

"Well?"

"Theyfollowed thee not to Gouda by miraclebut by my treason. I saidhewill ne'er be quite happy without his birds that visited him in hiscell; and I was jealous of themand criedand saidthese foullittle thingsthey are my child's rivals. And I bought loaves ofbreadand Jorian and me we put crumbs at the cave doorand thencewent sprinkling them all the way to the manseand there a heap. Andmy wiles succeededand they cameand thou wast gladand I waspleased to see thee glad; and when thou sawest in my guile the fingerof HeavenwickeddeceitfulI did hold my tongue. But die deceivingthee? ahnoI could not. Forgive me if thou canst; I was but awoman; I knew no better at the time. 'Twas writ in my bosom with avery sunbeam. ''Tis good for him to bide at Gouda manse'"

"Forgivetheesweet innocent?" sobbed Gerard; "what have I toforgive? Thou hadst a foolish froward child to guide to his own wealand didst all this for the bestI thank thee and bless thee. But asthy confessorall deceit is ill in Heaven's pure eyes. Thereforethou hast done well to confess and report it; and even on thyconfession and penitence the Church through me absolves thee. Pass tothy graver faults."

"Mygraver faults? Alas! alas! Whywhat have I done to compare? I am notan ill womannot a very ill one. If He can forgive me deceivingtheeHe can well forgive me all the rest ever I did."

Beinggently pressedshe said she was to blame not to have done more goodin the world. "I have just begun to do a little" she said"and now I must go. But I repine notsince 'tis Heaven's willonly I am so afeard thou wilt miss me." And at this she couldnot restrain her tearsthough she tried hard.

Gerardstruggled with his as well as he could; and knowing her life ofpietypurityand charityand seeing that she could not in herpresent state realise any sin but her having deceived himgave herfull absolutionThen he put the crucifix in her handand while heconsecrated the oilbade her fix her mind neither on her merits norher demeritsbut on Him who died for her on the tree.

Sheobeyed him with a look of confiding love and submission.

Andhe touched her eyes with the consecrated oiland prayed aloud besideher.

Soonafter she dosed.

Hewatched beside hermore dead than alive himself.

Whenthe day broke she awokeand seemed to acquire some energy. Shebegged him to look in her box for her marriage lines and for apictureand bring them both to her. He did so. She then entreatedhim by all they had suffered for each otherto ease her mind bymaking a solemn vow to execute her dying requests.

Hevowed to obey them to the letter.

"ThenGerardlet no creature come here to lay me out. I could not bear tobe stared at; my very corpse would blush. Also I would not be made amonster of for the worms to sneer at as well as feed on. Also my veryclothes are taintedand shall to earth with me. I am a physician'sdaughter; and ill becomes me kill folkbeing deadwhich did solittle good to men in the days of health; wherefore lap me in leadthe way I amand bury me deep! yet not so deep but what one day thoumayst find the wayand lay thy bones by mine.

"WhilesI lived I went to Gouda but once or twice a week. It cost me not togo each day. Let me gain this by dyingto be always at dear Goudain the green kirkyard.

"Alsothey do say the spirit hovers where the body lies; I would have myspirit hover near theeand the kirkyard is not far from the manse. Iam so afeard some ill will happen theeMargaret being gone.

"Andseewith mine own hands I place my marriage lines in my bosom. Letno living hand move themon pain of thy curse and mine. Then whenthe angel comes for me at the last dayhe shall saythis is anhonest womanshe hath her marriage lines (for you know I am yourlawful wifethough Holy Church hath come between us)and he willset me where the honest women be. I will not sit among ill womennonot in heaven for their mind is not my mindnor their soul my soul.I have stoodunbeknownat my windowand heard their talk."

Forsome time she was unable to say any morebut made signs to him thatshe had not done.

Atlast she recovered her breathand bade him look at the picture.

Itwas the portrait he had made of her when they were young togetherand little thought to part so soon. He held it in his hands andlooked at itbut could scarce see it. He had left it in fragmentsbut now it was whole.

"Theycut it to piecesGerard; but seeLove mocked at their knives.

"Iimplore thee with my dying breathlet this picture hang ever inthine eye.

"Ihave heard that such as die of the plagueunspottedyet after deathspots have been known to come out; and ohI could not bear thy lastmemory of me to be so. Thereforeas soon as the breath is out of mybodycover my face with this handkerchiefand look at me no moretill we meet again'twill not be so very long. O promise."

"Ipromise" said Gerardsobbing.

"Butlook on this picture instead. Forgive me; I am but a woman. I couldnot bear my face to lie a foul thing in thy memory. NayI must havethee still think me as fair as I was true. Hast called me an angelonce or twice; but be just! did I not still tell thee I was no angelbut only a poor simple womanthat whiles saw clearer than thoubecause she looked but a little wayand that loves thee dearlyandnever loved but theeand now with her dying breath prays theeindulge her in thisthou that art a man."

"IwillI will. Each wordeach wishis sacred."

"Blessthee! Bless thee! So then the eyes that now can scarce see theetheyare so troubled by the pestand the lips that shall not touch theeto taint theewill still be before thee as they were when we wereyoung and thou didst love me."

"WhenI did love theeMargaret! Ohnever loved I thee as now."

"Hastnot told me so of late."

"Alas!hath love no voice but words? I was a priest; I had charge of thysoul; the sweet offices of a pure love were lawful; words of loveimprudent at the least. But now the good fight is wonah me! Oh myloveif thou hast lived doubting of thy Gerard's heartdie not so;for never was woman loved so tenderly as thou this ten years past."

"Calmthyselfdear one" said the dying womanwith a heavenly smile."I know it; only being but a womanI could not die happy till Ihad heard thee say so. Ah! I have pined ten years for those sweetwords. Hast said themand this is the happiest hour of my life. Ihad to die to get them; wellI grudge not the price."

Fromthis moment a gentle complacency rested on her fading features. Butshe did not speak.

ThenGerardwho had loved her soul so many yearsfeared lest she shouldexpire with a mind too fixed on earthly affection.

"Ohmy daughter" he cried"my dear daughterif indeed thoulovest me as I love theegive me not the pain of seeing thee diewith thy pious soul fixed on mortal things.

"Dearestlamb of all my foldfor whose soul I must answeroh think not nowof mortal lovebut of His who died for thee on the tree. Ohlet thylast look be heavenwardsthy last word a word of prayer."

Sheturned a look of gratitude and obedience on him. "What saint?"she murmured: meaning doubtless"what saint should she invokeas an intercessor."

"Heto whom the saints themselves do pray."

Sheturned on him one more sweet look of love and submissionand put herpretty hands together in a prayer like a child.

"Jesu!"

Thisblessed word was her last. She lay with her eyes heavenwardsand herhands put together.

Gerardprayed fervently for her passing spirit. And when he had prayed along time with his head avertednot to see her last breathallseemed unnaturally still. He turned his head fearfully. It was so.

Shewas gone.

Nothingleft him now but the earthly shell of as constantpureand loving aspirit as eve' adorned the earth.

 

CHAPTERXCVII

Apriest is never more thoroughly a priest than in the chamber ofdeathGerard did the last offices of the Church for the departedjust as he should have done them for his smallest parishioner. He didthis mechanicallythen sat down stupefied by the sudden andtremendous blowand not yet realizing the pangs of bereavement. Thenin a transport of religious enthusiasm he kneeled and thanked Heavenfor her Christian end.

Andthen all his thought was to take her away from strangersand lay herin his own churchyard. That very evening a covered cart with onehorse started for Goudaand in it was a coffinand a broken-heartedman lying with his arms and chin resting on it.

Themourner's short-lived energy had exhausted itself in the necessarypreparationsand now he lay crushedclinging to the cold lead thatheld her.

Theman of whom the cart was hired walked by the horse's head and did notspeak to himand when he baited the horse spoke but in a whisperrespecting that mute agony. But when he stopped for the nighthe andthe landlord made a well-meaning attempt to get the mourner away totake some rest and food. But Gerard repulsed themand when theypersistedalmost snarled at themlike a faithful dogand clung tothe cold lead all night. So then they drew a cloak over himand lefthim in peace.

Andat noon the sorrowful cart came up to the manseand there were fulla score of parishioners collected with one little paltry trouble oranother. They had missed the parson already. And when they saw whatit wasand saw their healer so stricken downthey raised a loudwail of griefand it roused him from his lethargy of woeand he sawwhere he wasand their facesand tried to speak to them"Ohmy children! my children!" he cried; but choked with anguishcould say no more.

Yetthe next dayspite of all remonstranceshe buried her himselfandread the service with a voice that only trembled now and thenManytears fell upon her grave. And when the service ended he stayed therestanding like a statueand the people left the churchyard out ofrespect.

Hestood like one in a dream till the sextonwho wasas most men area foolbegan to fill in the grave without giving him due warning.

Butat the sound of earth falling on her Gerard uttered a piercingscream.

Thesexton forbore.

Gerardstaggered and put his hand to his breast. The sexton supported himand called for help.

JorianKetelwho lingered near mourning his benefactressran into thechurchyardand the two supported Gerard into the manse.

"AhJorian! good Jorian!" said he"something snapped withinme; I felt itand I heard it; hereJorianhere;" and he puthis hand to his breast.

 

CHAPTERXCVIII

Afortnight after this a pale bowed figure entered the Dominicanconvent in the suburbs of Goudaand sought speech with BrotherAmbrosewho governed the convent as deputythe prior having latelydiedand his successorthough appointednot having arrived.

Thesick man was Gerardcome to end life as he began it.

Heentered as a noviceon probation; but the truth washe was afailing manand knew itand came there to die in peacenear kindand gentle Ambrosehis friendand the other monks to whom his houseand heart had always been open.

Hismanse was more than he could bear; it was too full of reminiscencesof her.

Ambrosewho knew his valueand his sorrowwas not without a kindly hope ofcuring himand restoring him to his parish. With this view he puthim in a comfortable cell over the gatewayand forbade him to fastor practice any austerities.

Butin a few days the new prior arrivedand proved a very Tartar. Atfirst he was absorbed in curing abusesand tightening the generaldiscipline; but one day hearing the vicar of Gouda had entered theconvent as a novicehe said"'Tis well; let him first give uphis vicarage thenor go; I'll no fat parsons in my house." Theprior then sent for Gerardand he went to him; and the moment theysaw one another they both started

"Clement!"

"Jerome!"

 

CHAPTERXCIX

Jeromewas as morose as ever in his general characterbut he had somewhatsoftened towards Gerard. All the time he was in England he had missedhim more then he thought possibleand since then had often wonderedwhat had become of him. What he heard in Gouda raised his feeblebrother in his good opinion; above allthat he had withstood thePope and the Minorites on "the infernal heresy of the immaculateconception" as he called it. But when one of his young monkstold him with tears in his eyes the Cause of Gerard's illnessallhis contempt revived. "Dying for a woman?"

Hedetermined to avert this scandal; he visited Clement twice a day inhis celland tried all his old influence and all his eloquence toinduce him to shake off this unspiritual despondencyand not rob thechurch of his piety and his eloquence at so critical a period.

Gerardheard himapproved his reasoningadmired his strengthconfessedhis own weaknessand continued visibly to wear away to the land ofthe leal. One day Jerome told him he had heard his storyand heardit with pride. "But now" said he"you spoil it allClement; for this is the triumph of earthly passion. Better haveyielded to it and repentedthan resist it while she livedandsuccumb under it nowbody and soul."

"DearJerome" said Clementso sweetly as to rob his remonstrance ofthe tone of remonstrance"hereI thinkyou do me someinjustice. Passion there is none; but a deep affectionfor which Iwill not blush heresince I shall not blush for it in heaven.Bethink theeJeromethe poor dog that dies of grief on his master'sgraveis he guilty of passion? Neither am I. Passion had saved mylifeand lost my soulShe was my good angel; she sustained me in myduty and charity; her face encouraged me in the pulpit; her lipssoothed me under ingratitude. She intertwined herself with all thatwas good in my life; and after leaning on her so longI could not goon alone. Anddear Jeromebelieve me I am no rebel against Heaven.It is God's will to release me. When they threw the earth upon herpoor coffinsomething snapped within my bosom here that mended maynot be. I heard itand I felt it. And from that timeJeromenofood that I put in my mouth had any savour. With my eyes bandaged nowI could not tell thee which was breadand which was fleshby eatingof it."

"Holysaints!"

"Andagainfrom that same hour my deep dejection left meand I smiledagain. I often smile - why? I read it thus: He in whose hands are theissues of life and death gave me that minute the great summons; 'twassome cord of life snapped in me. He is very pitiful. I should havelived unhappy; but He said'No; enough is doneenough is suffered;poor feebleloving servantthy shortcomings are forgiventhysorrows touch thine end; come thou to thy rest!' I comeLordIcome!"

Jeromegroaned. "The Church had ever her holy but feeble servants"he said. "Now would I give ten years of my life to save thine.But I see it may not be. Die in peace."

Andso it was that in a few days more Gerard lay a-dying in a frame ofmind so holy and happythat more than one aged saint was there togarner his dying words. In the evening he had seen Gilesand beggedhim not to let poor Jack starve; and to see that little Gerard'strustees did their dutyand to kiss his parents for himand to sendDenys to his friends in Burgundy: "Poor thinghe will feel sostrange here without his comrade." And after that he had aninterview with Jerome alone. What passed between them was neverdistinctly known; but it must have been something remarkableforJerome went from the door with his hands crossed on his breasthishigh head loweredand sighing as he went.

Thetwo monks that watched with him till matins related that all throughthe night he broke out from time to time in pious ejaculationsandpraisesand thanksgivings; only once they said he wanderedandthought he saw her walking in green meadows with other spirits cladin whiteand beckoning him; and they all smiled and beckoned him.And both these monks said (but it might have been fancy) that justbefore dawn there came three light taps against the wallone afteranothervery slow; and the dying man heard themand said

"IcomeloveI come."

Thismuch is certainthat Gerard did utter these wordsand prepare forhis departurehaving uttered them. He sent for all the monks who atthat hour were keeping vigil. They cameand hovered like gentlespirits round him with holy words. Some prayed in silence for himwith their faces touching the groundothers tenderly supported hishead. But when one of them said something about his life ofself-denial and charityhe stopped himand addressing them allsaid"My dear brethrentake note that he who here dies sohappy holds not these new-fangled doctrines of man's merit. Ohwhata miserable hour were this to me an if I did! Naybut I holdwiththe Apostlesand their pupils in the Churchthe ancient fathersthat we are justified not by our own wisdomor pietyor the workswe have done in holiness of heartbut by HYPERLINK "FAITH"faith."

Thenthere was silenceand the monks looked at one another significantly.

"Pleaseyou sweep the floor" said the dying Christianin a voice towhich all its clearance and force seemed supernaturally restored.

Theyinstantly obeyednot without a sentiment of awe and curiosity.

"Makeme a great cross with wood ashes."

Theystrewed the ashes in form of a great Cross upon the floor.

"Nowlay me down on itfor so will I die."

Andthey took him gently from his bedand laid him on the cross of woodashes.

"Shallwe spread out thine armsdear brother?"

"NowGod forbid! Am I worthy of that?"

Helay silentbut with his eyes raised in ecstasy.

Presentlyhe spoke half to themhalf to himself"Oh" he saidwitha subdued but concentrated rapture"I feel it buoyant. It liftsme floating in the sky whence my merits had sunk me like lead."

Daybroke; and displayed his face cast upward in silent raptureand hishands together; like Margaret's.

Andjust about the hour she died he spoke his last word in this world.

"Jesu!"

Andeven with that word - he fell asleep.

Theylaid him out for his last resting-place.

Underhis linen they found a horse-hair shirt.

"Ah!"cried the young monks"behold a saint!"

Underthe hair cloth they found a long thick tress of auburn hair.

Theystartedand were horrified; and a babel of voices arosesomecondemningsome excusing.

Inthe midst of which Jerome came inand hearing the disputeturned toan ardent young monk called Basilwho was crying scandal theloudest"Basil" said he"is she alive or dead thatowned this hair?"

"Howmay I knowfather?"

"Thenfor aught you know it may be the relic of a saint?"

"Certesit may be" said Basil sceptically.

"Youhave then broken our rulewhich saith'Put ill construction on noact done by a brother which can be construed innocently.' Who are youto judge such a man as this was? go to your celland stir not outfor a week by way of penance."

Hethen carried off the lock of hair.

Andwhen the coffin was to be closedhe cleared the cell: and put thetress upon the dead man's bosom. "ThereClement" said heto the dead face. And set himself a penance for doing it; and nailedthe coffin up himself.

Thenext day Gerard was buried in Gouda churchyard. The monks followedhim in procession from the convent. Jeromewho was evidentlycarrying out the wishes of the deceasedread the service. The gravewas a deep oneand at the bottom of it was a lead coffin. PoorGerard'slight as a feather (so wasted was he)was loweredandplaced by the side of it.

Afterthe service Jerome said a few words to the crowd of parishioners thathad come to take the last look at their best friend. When he spoke ofthe virtues of the departed loud wailing and weeping burst forthandtears fell upon the coffin like rain.

Themonks went home. Jerome collected them in the refectory and spoke tothem thus: "We have this day laid a saint in the earth. Theconvent will keep his trentalsbut will feastnot fast; for ourgood brother is freed from the burden of the flesh; his labours areoverand he has entered into his joyful rest. I alone shall fastand do penance; for to my shame I say itI was unjust to himandknew not his worth till it was too late. And youyoung monksbe notcurious to inquire whether a lock he bore on his bosom was a token ofpure affection or the relic of a saint; but remember the heart hewore beneath: most of allfix your eyes upon his life andconversationand follow them an ye may: for he was a holy man."

Thusafter life's fitful fever these true lovers were at peace.

Thegravekinder to them than the Churchunited them for ever; and nowa man of another age and nationtouched with their fatehaslaboured to build their tombstoneand rescue them from long andunmerited oblivion.

Heasks for them your sympathybut not your pity.

Noput this story to a wholesome use.

Fictionmust often give false views of life and death. Here as it happenscurbed by historyshe gives you true ones. Let the barrier that keptthese true lovers apart prepare you for thisthat here on earththere will nearly always be some obstacle or other to your perfecthappiness; to their early death apply your Reason and your Faithbyway of exercise and preparation. For if you cannot bear to be toldthat these died youngwho had they lived a hundred years would stillbe deadhow shall you bear to see the gentlethe lovingand thetrue glide from your own bosom to the graveand fly from your houseto heaven?

Yetthis is in store for you. In every age the Master of life and deathwho is kinder as well as wiser than we arehas transplanted toheavenyoungearth's sweetest flowers.

Iask your sympathythenfor their rare constancy and pure affectionand their cruel separation by a vile HYPERLINK "HERESY"heresy in the bosom of the Church; but not your pity for their earlybut happy end.

'Beatisunt qui in Domino moriuntur.

 

CHAPTERC

Incompliance with a Custom I despisebut have not the spirit toresistI linger on the stage to pick up the smaller fragments ofhumanity I have scattered about; i.e. some of themfor the waysidecharacters have no claim on me; they have served their turn if theyhave persuaded the reader that Gerard travelled from Holland to Romethrough human beingsand not through a population of dolls.

Eliand Catherine lived to a great age: lived so longthat both Gerardand Margaret grew to be dim memories. Giles also was longaevous; hewent to the court of Bavariaand was alive there at ninetybut hadsomehow turned into bones and leathertrumpet toned.

Cornelisfree from all rivalsand forgiven long ago by his motherwho clungto him more and more now all her brood was scatteredwaited andwaited and waited for his parents' decease. But Catherine's shrewdword came true; ere she and her mate wore outthis worthy rustedaway. At sixty-five he lay dying of old age in his mother's armsahale woman of eighty-six. He had lain unconscious a whilebut cameto himself in articulo mortisand seeing her near himtold her howhe would transform the shop and premises as soon as they should behis. "Yesmy darling" said the poor old woman soothinglyand in another minute he was clayand that clay was followed to thegrave by all the feet whose shoes he had waited for.

Denysbroken-hearted at his comrade's deathwas glad to return toBurgundyand there a small pension the court allowed him kept himuntil unexpectedly he inherited a considerable sum from a relation.He was known in his native place for many years as a crusty oldsoldierwho could tell good stories of war when he choseand abitter railer against women.

Jeromedisgusted with northern laxityretired to Italyand having highconnections became at seventy a mitred abbot. He put on the screw ofdiscipline; his monks revered and hated him. He ruled with iron rodten years. And one night he diedalone; for he had not found the wayto a single heart. The Vulgate was on his pillowand the crucifix inhis handand on his lips something more like a smile than was everseen there while he lived; so thatmethinksat that awful hour hewas not quite alone. Requiescat in pace. The Master he served hasmany servantsand they have many mindsand now and then a faithfulone will be a surly oneas it is in these our mortal mansions.

Theyellow-haired laddieGerard Gerardsonbelongs not to Fiction but toHistory. She has recorded his birth in other terms than mine. Overthe tailor's house in the Brede Kirk Straet she has inscribed

"HAECEST PARVA DOMUS NATUS QUA MAGNUS ERASMUS;"

andshe has written half-a-dozen lives of him. But there is somethingleft for her yet to do. She has no more comprehended magnum Erasmumthan any other pigmy comprehends a giantor partisan a judge.

Firstscholar and divine of his epochhe was also the heaven-borndramatist of his century. Some of the best scenes in this new bookare from his mediaeval penand illumine the pages where they come;for the words of a genius so high as his are not born to die: theirimmediate work upon mankind fulfilledthey may seem to lie torpid;but at each fresh shower of intelligence Time pours upon theirstudentsthey prove their immortal race: they revivethey springfrom the dust of great libraries; they budthey flowerthey fruitthey seedfrom generation to generationand from age to age.

NOTES:

*Anglicea Thing-em-bob.

*Itrequires nowadays a strong effort of the imagination to realize theeffect on poor people who had never seen them before of suchsentences as this
"Blessed are the poor" etc."

*Theprimitive writer was so interpreted by others besides Clement; and inparticular by Peter of Bloisa divine of the twelfth centurywhosecomment is noteworthyas he himself was a forty-year hermit.

*Beatdown Satan under our feet.

*Uphearts!

*OGod our refuge and strength.

*OLamb of Godthat takest away the sins of the worldhave mercy uponme!

*OHoly Trinityone Godhave mercy upon us.

*Fromthe assaults of demons - from the wrath to come - from everlastingdamnationdeliver usO Lord!

*Seethe English collectSt.Michael and all Angels.

*Ofwhom may we seek succour but of TheeO Lordwho for our sins artjustly displeased (and that torrent of prayerthe following verse).

*Dr.Dicksonauthor of Fallacies of the Facultyetc.

*Itis related of a mediaeval hermitthat being offered a garment madeof cats' skinshe rejected itsaying"I have heard of a lambof God but I never heard of a cat of God."

*Morethan one hermit had received a present of this kind.

*Query"looking glass."

*Craft.He means trade or profession.

*Ithink she means prejudice.

*Letme not be understood to apply this to the bare outline of therelation. Many bishops and priestsand not a few popeshad wivesand children as laymen; and entering orders were parted from thewives and not from the children. But in the case before the readerare the additional features of a strong surviving attachment on bothsidesand of neighbourhoodbesides that here the man had been ledinto holy orders by a false statement of the woman's death. On asummary of all the essential featuresthe situation wasto the bestof my beliefunique.

*He was citing from Clement of Rome: " ou di eautvndikaioumeqa oude dia ths hmeteras soyiash eusebeias h ergvn vnkateirgasameqa en osioteeti karqiasalla dia ths pistevs. "(Epist.ad Corinthi. 32).

*Celibacy of the clergyan invention truly fiendish.




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