The Cloister and the Hearth: A Tale of the Middle Ages

by Charles Reade

  CHAPTER XXXIII

  THEY met the landlord in the passage.

  "Welcome, messieurs," said he taking off his cap with a low bow.

  "Come, we are not in Germany," said Gerard.

  In the public room they found the mistress, a buxom woman of forty. Shecurtsied to them and smiled right cordially. "Give yourself the troubleof sitting ye down, fair sir," said she to Gerard, and dusted two chairswith her apron, not that they needed it.

  "Thank you, dame," said Gerard. "Well," thought he, "this _is_ a politenation: the trouble of sitting down? That will I with singular patience;and presently the labour of eating, also the toil of digestion, andfinally, by Hercules his aid, the strain of going to bed, and thestruggle of sinking fast asleep."

  "Why, Denys, what are you doing? ordering supper for only two?"

  "Why not?"

  "What can we sup without waiting for forty more? Burgundy for ever!"

  "Aha! Courage, camarade. Le dia--"

  "C'est convenu."

  The salique law seemed not to have penetrated to French inns. In thisone at least wimple and kirtle reigned supreme; doublets and hose werefew in number and feeble in act. The landlord himself wanderedobjectless, eternally taking off his cap to folk for want of thought;and the women, as they passed him in turn, thrust him quietly asidewithout looking at him, as we remove a live twig in bustling through awood.

  A maid brought in supper, and the mistress followed her empty handed.

  "Fall to, my masters," said she cheerily, "y'have but one enemy here;and he lies under your knife." (I shrewdly suspect this of formula.)

  They fell to. The mistress drew her chair a little towards the table;and provided company as well as meat; gossiped genially with them likeold acquaintances: but, this form gone through, the busy dame was soonoff and sent in her daughter, a beautiful young woman of about twenty,who took the vacant seat. She was not quite so broad and genial as theelder, but gentle and cheerful, and showed a womanly tenderness forGerard on learning the distance the poor boy had come, and had to go.She stayed nearly half an hour, and, when she left them, Gerard said,"This an inn? Why it is like home."

  "Qui fit Francois il fit courtois," said Denys bursting with gratifiedpride.

  "Courteous? nay, Christian; to welcome us like home guests and oldfriends, us vagrants, here to-day and gone to-morrow. But indeed whobetter merits pity and kindness than the worn traveller far from hisfolk? Hola! here's another."

  The new comer was the chambermaid, a woman of about twenty-five, with acocked nose, a large laughing mouth, and a sparkling black eye: and abare arm very stout but not very shapely.

  The moment she came in, one of the travellers passed a somewhat freejest on her, the next the whole company were roaring at his expense, soswiftly had her practised tongue done his business. Even as, in apassage of arms between a novice and a master of fence, foilsclash--novice pinked. On this another, and then another, must break alance with her: but Marion stuck her great arms upon her haunches, andheld the whole room in play. This country girl possessed in perfectionthat rude and ready humour, which looks mean and vulgar on paper butcarries all before it spoken: not wit's rapier; its bludgeon. Nature haddone much for her in this way, and daily practice in an inn the rest.

  Yet shall she not be photographed by me, but feebly indicated: for itwas just four hundred years ago, the raillery was coarse, she returnedevery stroke in kind, and, though a virtuous woman, said things withoutwinking, which no decent man of our day would say even among men.

  Gerard sat gaping with astonishment. This was to him almost a newvariety of "that interesting species," homo. He whispered Denys, "Now Isee why you Frenchmen say 'a woman's tongue is her sword'": just thenshe levelled another assailant; and the chivalrous Denys to console andsupport "the weaker vessel," the iron kettle among the clay pots,administered his consigne, "Courage, ma mie, le--" etc.

  She turned on him directly. "How can _he_ be dead as long as there is anarcher left alive?" (General laughter at her ally's expense.)

  "It is 'washing day' my masters," said she with sudden gravity.

  "Apres? We travellers cannot strip and go bare while you wash ourclothes," objected a peevish old fellow by the fireside, who had keptmumchance during the raillery, but crept out into the sunshine ofcommonplaces.

  "I aimed not your way, ancient man," replied Marion superciliously."But, _since you ask me_" (here she scanned him slowly from head tofoot), "I trow you might take a turn in the tub, clothes and all, and noharm done" (laughter). "But what I spoke for, I thought--this youngsire--might like his beard starched."

  Poor Gerard's turn had come: his chin crop was thin and silky.

  The loudest of all the laughters this time was the traitor Denys, whosebeard was of a good length, and singularly stiff and bristly: so thatShakespeare, though he never saw him, hit him in the bull's eye.

  "Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard." _As You Like It._

  Gerard bore the Amazonian satire mighty calmly. He had little personalvanity. "Nay, 'chambriere'" said he with a smile, "mine is all unworthyyour pains: take you this fair growth in hand!" and he pointed toDenys's vegetable.

  "Oh, time for that, when I starch the besoms."

  Whilst they were all shouting over this palpable hit, the mistressreturned, and, in no more time than it took her to cross the threshold,did our Amazon turn to a seeming Madonna meek and mild.

  Mistresses are wonderful subjugators. Their like I think breathes not onthe globe. Housemaids, decide! It was a waste of histrionic abilitythough; for the landlady had heard, and did not at heart disapprove, thepeals of laughter.

  "Ah, Marion, lass," said she, good-humouredly, "If you laid me an eggevery time you cackle, 'Les Trois Poissons' would never lack an omelet."

  "Now, dame," said Gerard, "what is to pay?"

  "What for?"

  "Our supper."

  "Where is the hurry? cannot you be content to pay when you go? lose theguest, find the money, is the rule of 'The Three Fish.'"

  "But, dame, outside 'The Three Fish' it is thus written--'Ici--on neloge--'"

  "Bah! Let that flea stick on the wall! Look hither," and she pointed tothe smoky ceiling, which was covered with hieroglyphics. These wereaccounts, vulgo scores; intelligible to this dame and her daughter, whowrote them at need by simply mounting a low stool, and scratching with aknife so as to show lines of ceiling through the deposit of smoke. Thedame explained that the writing on the wall was put there to frightenmoneyless folk from the inn altogether, or to be acted on at odd timeswhen a nonpaying face should come in and insist on being served. "Wecan't refuse them plump, you know. The law forbids us."

  "And how know you mine is not such a face?"

  "Out, fie! it is the best face that has entered 'The Three Fish' thisautumn."

  "And mine, dame?" said Denys; "dost see no knavery here?"

  She eyed him calmly. "Not such a good one as the lad's: nor ever willbe. But it is the face of a true man. For all that," added she drily,"an I were ten years younger, I'd as lieve not meet that face on a darknight too far from home."

  Gerard stared. Denys laughed. "Why, dame, I would but sip the night dewoff the flower; and you needn't take ten years off, nor ten days, to beworth risking a scratched face for."

  "There, our mistress," said Marion, who had just come in, "said I nott'other day, you could make a fool of them still, an if you wereproperly minded?"

  "I dare say ye did: it sounds like some daft wench's speech."

  "Dame," said Gerard, "this is wonderful."

  "What? Oh: no, no, that is no wonder at all. Why, I have been here allmy life: and reading faces is the first thing a girl picks up in aninn."

  _Marion._] "And frying eggs the second; no, telling lies; frying eggs isthe third, though."

  _The Mistress._] "And holding her tongue the last, and modesty the dayafter never at all."

  _Marion._] "Alack! Talk of _my_ tongue. But
I say no more. She, underwhose wing I live, now deals the blow. I'm sped--'tis but a chambermaidgone. Catch what's left on't," and she staggered and sank backwards onto the handsomest fellow in the room, which happened to be Gerard.

  "Tic! tic!" cried he, peevishly, "there, don't be stupid! that is tooheavy a jest for me. See you not I am talking to the mistress?"

  Marion resumed her elasticity with a grimace; made two little boundsinto the middle of the floor and there turned a pirouette. "There,mistress," said she, "I give in, 'tis you that reigns supreme with themen; leastways with male children."

  "Young man," said the mistress, "this girl is not so stupid as herdeportment: in reading of faces, and frying of omelets, there we aregreat. 'Twould be hard if we failed at these arts, since they are aboutall we do know."

  "You do not quite take me, dame," said Gerard. "That honesty in a faceshould shine forth to your experienced eye, that seems reasonable: buthow by looking on Denys here could you learn his one little foible, hisinsanity, his miserable mulierosity?" Poor Gerard got angrier the morehe thought of it.

  "His mule--his what?" (crossing herself with superstitious awe at thepolysyllable).

  "Nay, 'tis but the word I was fain to invent for him."

  "Invent? What can a child like you make other words than grow inBurgundy by nature? Take heed what ye do! why we are overrun with themalready, especially bad ones. Lord, these be times. I look to hear of anew thistle invented next."

  "But, dame, I found language too poor to paint him. I was fain toinvent. You know Necessity is the mother of--"

  "Ay! ay, that is old enough, o' conscience."

  "Well then, dame, mulierose--that means wrapped up, body and soul, inwomen. So prithee tell me; how did you ever detect the noodle'smulierosity?"

  "Alas! good youth, you make a mountain of a molehill. We that are womenbe notice-takers; and out of the tail of our eye see more than most mencan, glaring through a prospect glass. Whiles I move to and fro doingthis and that, my glance is still on my guests, and I did notice thatthis soldier's eyes were never off the womenfolk: my daughter, orMarion, or even an old woman like me, all was gold to him: and there asat glowering; oh you foolish, foolish, man! Now _you_ still turned tothe speaker, her or him, and that is common sense."

  Denys burst into a hoarse laugh. "You never were more out. Why thissilky smooth-faced companion is a very Turk--all but his beard. He iswhat d'ye call 'em oser than ere an archer in the duke's body guard. Heis more wrapped up in one single Dutch lass called Margaret than I am inthe whole bundle of ye brown and fair."

  "Man alive, that is just the contrary," said the hostess. "Yourn is thebane, and hisn the cure. Cling you still to Margaret, my dear. I hopeshe is an honest girl."

  "Dame, she is an angel."

  "Ay, ay, they are all that till better acquainted. I'd as lieve have herno more than honest, and then she will serve to keep you out of worsecompany. As for you, soldier, there is trouble in store for you. Youreyes were never made for the good of your soul."

  "Nor of his pouch either," said Marion striking in, "and his lips theywill sip the dew, as he calls it, off many a bramble bush."

  "Overmuch clack! Marion; overmuch clack."

  "Ods bodikins, mistress; ye didn't hire me to be one o' your threefishes, did ye?" and Marion sulked thirty seconds.

  "Is that the way to speak to our mistress?" remonstrated the landlord,who had slipped in.

  "Hold your whisht," said his wife sharply, "it is not your business tocheck the girl, she is a good servant to you."

  "What is the cock never to crow, and the hens at it all day?"

  "You can crow as loud as you like, my man--out o' doors. But the henmeans to rule the roost."

  "I know a byword to that tune," said Gerard.

  "Do ye now? out wi't then."

  "'Femme veut en toute saison, Estre dame en sa maison.'"

  "I never heard it afore: but 'tis as sooth as gospel. Ay they that setthese bywords a rolling had eyes and tongues, and tongues and eyes.Before all the world give me an old saw."

  "And me a young husband," said Marion. "Now there was a chance for youall, and nobody spoke. Oh! it is too late now. I've changed my mind."

  "All the better for some poor fellow," suggested Denys.

  And now the arrival of the young mistress, or, as she was called, thelittle mistress, was the signal for them all to draw round the fire,like one happy family, travellers, host, hostess, and even servants inthe outer ring, and tell stories till bedtime. And Gerard in his turntold a tremendous one out of his repertory, a MS. collection of "acts ofthe saints," and made them all shudder deliciously; but soon after beganto nod; exhausted by the effort I should say. The young mistress saw,and gave Marion a look. She instantly lighted a rush, and laying herhand on Gerard's shoulder invited him to follow her. She showed him aroom where were two nice white beds, and bade him choose. "Either isparadise," said he. "I'll take this one. Do you know, I have not lain ina naked bed once since I left my home in Holland."

  "Alack! poor soul!" said she; "well then the sooner my flax and yourdown (he! he!) come together, the better; so--allons!" and she held outher cheek as business-like as if it had been her hand for a fee.

  "Allons? what does that mean?"

  "It means 'good-night.' Ahem! What don't they salute the chambermaid inyour part?"

  "Not all in a moment."

  "What, do they make a business on't?"

  "Nay, perverter of words, I mean we make not so free with strangewomen."

  "They must be strange women if they do not think you strange fools then.Here is a coil. Why all the old greasy greybeards, that lie at our inn,do kiss us chambermaids; faugh! and what have we poor wretches to set ont'other side the compt, but now and then a nice young--? Alack! timeflies, chambermaids can't be spared long in the nursery; so how is't tobe?"

  "An't please you arrange with my comrade for both. He is mulierose; I amnot."

  "Nay 'tis the curb he will want, not the spur. Well! well! you shall tobed without paying the usual toll; and oh but 'tis sweet to fall in witha young man, who can withstand these ancient ill customs, and gainsaybrazen hussies. Shalt have thy reward."

  "Thank you! But what are you doing with my bed?"

  "Me? oh only taking off these sheets, and going to put on the pair thedrunken miller slept in last night."

  "Oh no! no! You cruel, black-hearted thing! There! there!"

  "A la bonne heure! What will not perseverance effect? But note now thefrowardness of a mad wench! I cared not for't a button. I am dead sickof that sport this five years. But you denied me: so then forthwith Ibehoved to have it; belike had gone through fire and water for't. Alas,young sir, we women are kittle cattle; poor perverse toads: excuse us:and keep us in our place, savoir, at arm's length! and so good-night!"

  At the door she turned and said with a complete change of tone andmanner: "The Virgin guard thy head, and the Holy Evangelists watch thebed where lies a poor young wanderer far from home! Amen!"

  And the next moment he heard her run tearing down the stairs, and soona peal of laughter from the salle betrayed her whereabouts.

  "Now that is a character," said Gerard profoundly; and yawned over thediscovery.

  In a very few minutes he was in a dry bath of cold, clean, linen,inexpressibly refreshing to him after so long disuse: then came adelicious glow: and then--Sevenbergen.

  * * * * *

  In the morning Gerard awoke infinitely refreshed, and was for rising,but found himself a close prisoner. His linen had vanished. Now this wasparalysis; for the night-gown is a recent institution. In Gerard'scentury, and indeed long after, men did not play fast and loose withclean sheets (when they could get them), but crept into them clothedwith--their innocence, like Adam: out of bed they seem to have takenmost after his eldest son.

  Gerard bewailed his captivity to Denys; but that instant the dooropened, and in sailed Marion with their linen, newly washed and ironed,on her two arms
, and set it down on the table.

  "Oh you good girl," cried Gerard.

  "Alack, have you found me out at last?"

  "Yes indeed. Is this another _custom_?"

  "Nay, not to take them unbidden: but at night we aye questiontravellers, are they for linen washed. So I came in to you: but you wereboth sound. Then said I to the little mistress, 'La! where is the senseof waking wearied men, t'ask them is Charles the Great dead, and wouldthey liever carry foul linen or clean, especially this one with a skinlike cream.' 'And so he has, I declare,' said the young mistress."

  * * * * *

  "That was me," remarked Denys with the air of a commentator.

  "Guess once more, and you'll hit the mark."

  "Notice him not, Marion; he is an impudent fellow; and I am sure wecannot be grateful enough for your goodness, and I am sorry I everrefused you--anything you fancied you should like."

  "Oh, are ye there," said l'espiegle. "I take that to mean you would fainbrush the morning dew off, as your bashful companion calls it; wellthen, excuse me, 'tis _customary_, but not prudent. I decline. Quitswith you, lad."

  "Stop! stop!" cried Denys as she was making off victorious, "I amcurious to know how many of ye were here last night a-feasting your eyeson us twain.'"

  "'Twas so satisfactory a feast as we weren't half a minute over't. Who?why the big mistress, the little mistress, Janet and me, and the wholeposse comitatus, on tiptoe. We mostly make our rounds, the last thingnot to get burned down; and in prodigious numbers. Somehow that makethus bolder, especially where archers lie scattered about."

  "Why did not you tell me? I'd have lain awake."

  "Beau sire, the saying goes that the good and the ill are all one whiletheir lids are closed. So we said 'Here is one, who will serve God bestasleep. Break not his rest!'"

  "She is funny," said Gerard dictatorially.

  "I must be either that or knavish."

  "How so?"

  "Because 'The Three Fish' pay me to be funny. You will eat before youpart? Good! then I'll go see the meat be fit for such worshipful teeth."

  * * * * *

  "Denys!"

  "What is your will?"

  "I wish that was a great boy, and going along with us, to keep uscheery."

  "So do not I. But I wish it was going along with us as it is."

  "Now Heaven forfend! A fine fool you would make of yourself."

  * * * * *

  They broke their fast, settled their score, and said farewell. Then itwas they found Marion had not exaggerated the "custom of the country."The three principal women took and kissed them right heartily, and theykissed the three principal women. The landlord took and kissed them, andthey kissed the landlord; and the cry was "Come back, the sooner thebetter!"

  "Never pass 'The Three Fish;' should your purses be void, bringyourselves: 'le sieur credit' is not dead for you."

  And they took the road again.

  They came to a little town, and Denys went to buy shoes. The shopkeeperwas in the doorway, but wide awake. He received Denys with a bow down tothe ground. The customer was soon fitted, and followed to the street,and dismissed with graceful salutes from the doorstep.

  The friends agreed it was Elysium to deal with such a shoemaker as this."Not but what my German shoes have lasted well enough," said Gerard thejust.

  Outside the town was a pebbled walk.

  "This is to keep the burghers' feet dry, a-walking o' Sundays with theirwives and daughters," said Denys.

  Those simple words of Denys, one stroke of a careless tongue, painted"home" in Gerard's heart. "Oh! how sweet," said he. "Mercy! what isthis? A gibbet; and ugh, two skeletons thereon! Oh, Denys, what a sorrysight to woo by!"

  "Nay," said Denys, "a comfortable sight; for every rogue i' the airthere is one the less a-foot."

  A little farther on they came to two pillars, and between these was ahuge wheel closely studded with iron prongs; and entangled in these werebones and fragments of cloth miserably dispersed over the wheel.

  Gerard hid his face in his hands. "Oh to 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 thanthat?"

  "How know ye he stole? Have true men never suffered death and torturetoo?"

  "None of my kith ever found the way to the gibbet, I know."

  "The better their luck. Prithee how died the saints?"

  "Hard. But not in Burgundy."

  "Ye massacred them wholesale at Lyons, and that is on Burgundy'sthreshold. To you the gibbet proves the crime; because you read notstory. Alas! had you stood on Calvary that bloody day we sigh for tothis hour, I tremble to think you had perhaps shouted for joy at thegibbet builded there; for the cross was but the Roman gallows, FatherMartin says."

  "The blaspheming old hound!"

  "Oh fie! fie! a holy and a book-learned man. Ay, Denys, y'had read them,that suffered there, by 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 Christiansaint, and another was the Saviour of the world which gibbeted him."

  Denys assured him on his honour they managed things better in Burgundy.He added too after profound reflection, that 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 Easter-tide; "but theychanced in an outlandish nation; and near a thousand years agone. Mortde ma vie, let us hope it is not true: or at least sore exaggerated. Dobut see how all tales gather as they roll!"

  Then he reflected again, and all in a moment turned red with ire. "Do yenot blush to play with your book-craft on your unlettered friend, andthrow dust in his eyes, evening the saints with these reptiles?"

  Then suddenly he recovered his good humour. "Since your heart beats forvermin, feel for the carrion crows! they be as good vermin as these:would ye send them to bed supperless, poor pretty poppets? Why, these betheir larder: the pangs of hunger would gnaw them dead, but for coldcutpurse hung up here and there."

  Gerard, who had for some time maintained a dead silence, informed himthe subject was closed between them and for ever. "There are things,"said he, "in which our hearts seem wide as the poles asunder, and ekeour heads. But I love thee dearly all the same," he added with infinitegrace and tenderness.

  Towards afternoon they heard a faint wailing noise on ahead: it grewdistincter as they proceeded. Being fast walkers they soon came up withits cause: a score of pikemen, accompanied by several constables, weremarching along, and in advance of them was a herd of animals they weredriving. These creatures, in number rather more than a hundred, were ofvarious ages, only very few were downright old: the males were downcastand silent. It was the females from whom all the outcry came. In otherwords the animals thus driven along at the law's point were men andwomen.

  "Good Heaven!" cried Gerard. "What a band of them! But stay, surely allthose children cannot be thieves: why there are some in arms. What onearth is this, Denys?"

  Denys advised him to ask that "bourgeois" with the badge. "This isBurgundy: here a civil question ever draws a civil reply."

  Gerard went up to the officer and removing his cap, a civility whichwas immediately returned, said, "For our Lady's sake, sir, what do yewith these poor folk?"

  "Nay, what is that to you, my lad?" replied the functionarysuspiciously.

  "Master, I'm a stranger, and athirst for knowledge."

  "That is another matter. What are we doing? ahem. Why we--Dost hear,Jacques? Here is a stranger seeks to know what we are doing," and thetwo machines were tickled that there should be a man who did not knowsomething they happened to know. In all ages this has tickled. Howeverthe chuckle was brief, and moderated by their native courtesy, and theofficial turned to Gerard again. "What we are doing? hum!" and now hehesitated not from any doubt as
to what he was doing, but because he washunting for a single word that should convey the matter.

  "Ce que nous faisons, mon gars?--Mais--dam--NOUS TRANSVASONS."

  "You decant? that should mean you pour from one vessel to another."

  "Precisely." He explained that last year the town of Charmes had beensore thinned by a pestilence, whole houses emptied and trades short ofhands. Much ado to get in the rye; and the flax half spoiled. So thebailiff and aldermen had written to the duke's secretary; and the dukehe sent far and wide to know what town was too full. "That are we," hadthe baillie of Toul writ back. "Then send four or five score of yourtownsfolk," was the order. "Was not this to decant the full town intothe empty, and is not the good duke the father of his people, and willnot let the duchy be weakened, nor its fair towns laid waste, by swordnor pestilence; but meets the one with pike, and arbalest (touching hiscap to the sergeant and Denys alternately), and t'other with policy?LONG LIVE THE DUKE!"

  The pikemen of course were not to be outdone in loyalty: so they shoutedwith stentorian lungs "LONG LIVE THE DUKE!" Then the decanted ones,partly because loyalty was a nonreasoning sentiment in those days,partly perhaps because they feared some further ill consequence shouldthey alone be mute, raised a feeble tremulous shout "Long live theDuke!"

  But, at this, insulted nature rebelled. Perhaps indeed the shamsentiment drew out the real, for, on the very heels of that loyalnoise, a loud and piercing wail burst from every woman's bosom and adeep groan 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 unbidden, all confused; as if a wall of sorrow had started upbefore them.

  "En avant," roared the sergeant, and they marched again, but mutteringand cursing.

  "Ah the ugly sound," said the civilian, wincing. "Les malheureux!" criedhe ruefully: for where is the single man can hear the sudden agony of amultitude and not be moved? "Les ingrats! They are going whence theywere de trop to where they will be welcome: from starvation toplenty--and they object. They even make dismal noises. One would thinkwe were thrusting them forth from Burgundy."

  "Come away," whispered Gerard, trembling; "come away," and the friendsstrode forward.

  When they passed the head of the column, and saw the men walk with theireyes bent in bitter gloom upon the ground, and the women, some carrying,some leading, little children, and weeping as they went, and the poorbairns, some frolicking, some weeping because "their mammies" wept,Gerard tried hard to say a word of comfort, but choked and could utternothing to the mourners; but gasped: "Come on, Denys. I cannot mock suchsorrow with little words of comfort." And now, artist-like, all his aimwas to get swiftly out of the grief he could not soothe. He almost rannot to hear these sighs and sobs.

  "Why, mate," said Denys, "art the colour of a lemon. Man alive, take notother folks' troubles to heart! not one of those whining milksops therebut would see thee, a stranger, hanged without winking."

  Gerard scarce listened to him.

  "Decant them?" he groaned: "ay, if blood were no thicker than wine.Princes, ye are wolves. Poor things! Poor things! Ah, Denys! Denys! withlooking on their grief mine own comes home to me. Well-a-day. Ah,well-a-day!"

  "Ay, now you talk reason. That you, poor lad, should be driven all theway from Holland to Rome, is pitiful indeed. But these snivelling curs,where is their hurt? There is six score of 'em to keep one anothercompany: besides they are not going out of Burgundy."

  "Better for them if they had never been in it."

  "Mechant, va! they are but going from one village to another, a mule'sjourney! whilst thou--there, no more. Courage, camarade, le diable estmort."

  Gerard shook his head very doubtfully, but kept silence for about amile, and then he said thoughtfully, "Ay, Denys, but then I am sustainedby book-learning. These are simple folk that likely thought theirvillage was the world: now what is this? more weeping. Oh! 'tis a sweetworld. Humph? A little girl that hath broke her pipkin. Now may I hangon one of your gibbets but I'll dry somebody's tears:" and he pouncedsavagely upon this little martyr, like a kite on a chick, but with moregenerous intentions. It was a pretty little lass of about twelve: thetears were raining down her two peaches, and her palms lifted to heavenin that utter, though temporary, desolation, which attends calamity attwelve; and at her feet the fatal cause, a broken pot, worth, say thefifth of a modern farthing.

  "What, hast broken thy pot, little one?" said Gerard, acting intensestsympathy.

  "Helas! bel gars; as you behold;" and the hands came down from the skyand both pointed at the fragments. A statuette of adversity.

  "And you weep so for that?"

  "Needs I must, bel gars. My mammy will massacre me. Do they not already"(with a fresh burst of woe) "c-c-call me J-J-Jean-net-on C-c-casse tout?It wanted but this; that I should break my poor pot. Helas! fallait-ildonc, mere de Dieu?"

  "Courage, little love," said Gerard: "'tis not thy heart lies broken;money will soon mend pots. See now, here is a piece of silver, andthere, scarce a stone's throw off, is a potter; take the bit of silverto him, and buy another pot, and the copper the potter will give theekeep that to play with thy comrades."

  The little mind took in all this, and smiles began to struggle with thetears: but spasms are like waves, they cannot go down the very momentthe wind of trouble is lulled. So Denys thought well to bring up hisreserve of consolation. "Courage, ma mie, le diable est mort!" criedthat inventive warrior gaily. Gerard shrugged his shoulders at such away of cheering a little girl.

  "What a fine thing Is a lute with one string,"

  said he.

  The little girl's face broke into warm sunshine.

  "Oh, the good news! oh, the good news!" she sang out with such heartfeltjoy, it went off into a honeyed whine; even as our gay old tunes have apathos underneath. "So then," said she, "they will no longer be able tothreaten us little girls with him, MAKING OUR LIVES A BURDEN!" And shebounded off "to tell Nanette," she said.

  There is a theory that everything has its counterpart; if true, Denys itwould seem had found the mind his consigne fitted.

  While he was roaring with laughter at its unexpected success andGerard's amazement, a little hand pulled his jerkin and a little facepeeped round his waist. Curiosity was now the dominant passion in thatsmall but vivid countenance.

  "Est-ce toi qui l'a tue, beau soldat?"

  "Oui, ma mie," said Denys, as gruffly as ever he could, rightly deemingthis would smack of supernatural puissance to owners of bell-liketrebles. "C'est moi. Ca vaut une petite embrassade--pas?"

  "Je crois ben. Aie! aie!"

  "Qu'as-tu?"

  "Ca pique! Ca pique!"

  "Quel dommage! je vais la couper."

  "Nenni, ce n'est rien; et pisque t'as tue ce mechant. T'es fierementbeau, tout d' meme, toi; t'es ben miex que ma grande soeur."

  "Will you not kiss me too, ma mie?" said Gerard.

  "Je ne demande par miex. Tiens, tiens, tiens! c'est doulce celle-ci. Ah,que j'aimons les hommes! Des fames, ca ne m'aurait jamais donne l'arjanblanc, plutot ca m'aurait ri au nez. C'est si peu de chose, les fames.Serviteur, beaulx sires! Bon voiage; et n'oubliez point la Jeanneton!"

  "Adieu, petit coeur," said Gerard, and on they marched: but presentlylooking back they saw the contemner of women in the middle of the road,making them a reverence, and blowing them kisses with little May morningface.

  "Come on," cried Gerard lustily. "I shall win to Rome yet. Holy St.Bavon, what a sunbeam of innocence hath shot across our bloodthirstyroad! Forget thee, little Jeanneton? not likely, amidst all thisslobbering, and gibbeting, and decanting. Come on, thou laggard!forward!"

  "Dost call this marching?" remonstrated Denys: "why we shall walk o'erChristmas-day and never see it."

  At the next town they came to, suddenly an arbalestrier ran out of atavern after them, and in a moment his beard and Denys's were like twobrushes stuck together. It was a comrade. He insisted on their cominginto the tavern with him, and breaking a bottl
e of wine. In course ofconversation, he told Denys there was an insurrection in the duke'sFlemish provinces, and soldiers were ordered thither from all parts ofBurgundy. "Indeed I marvelled to see thy face turned this way."

  "I go to embrace my folk that I have not seen these three years. Ye canquell a bit of a rising without me I trow."

  Suddenly Denys gave a start. "Dost hear, Gerard? this comrade is boundfor Holland."

  "What then? ah, a letter! a letter to Margaret! but will he be so good,so kind?"

  The soldier with a torrent of blasphemy informed him he would not onlytake it, but go a league or two out of his way to do it.

  In an instant out came inkhorn and paper from Gerard's wallet; and hewrote a long letter to Margaret, and told her briefly what I fear I havespun too tediously; dwelt most on the bear, and the plunge in the Rhine,and the character of Denys, whom he painted to the life. And with manyendearing expressions bade her be of good cheer; some trouble and perilthere had been, but all that was over now, and his only grief left wasthat he could not hope to have a word from her hand till he should reachRome. He ended with comforting her again as hard as he could. And soabsorbed was he in his love and his work, that he did not see all thepeople in the room were standing peeping, to watch the nimble and truefinger execute such rare penmanship.

  Denys, proud of his friend's skill, let him alone, till presently thewriter's face worked, and soon the scalding tears began to run down hisyoung cheeks, one after another, on the paper where he was then writingcomfort, comfort. Then Denys rudely repulsed the curious, and asked hiscomrade with a faltering voice whether he had the heart to let so sweeta love letter miscarry? The other swore by the face of St. Luke he wouldlose the forefinger of his right hand sooner.

  Seeing him so ready, Gerard charged him also with a short, cold letterto his parents; and in it he drew hastily with his pen two handsgrasping each other, to signify farewell. By-the-by, one drop ofbitterness found its way into his letter to Margaret. "I write to theealone, and to those who love thee. If my flesh and blood care to hearnews of me, they must be kind to thee and then thou mayst read my letterto them. But not else, and even then let this not out of thy hand orthou lovest me not. I know what I ask of thee, and why I ask it. Thouknowest not. I am older now by many years than thou art, and I was amonth agone. Therefore obey me in this one thing, dear heart, or thouwilt make me a worse wife than I hope to make thee a husband, Godwilling."

  On second thoughts I believe there was something more than bitterness inthis. For his mind, young but intense, had been bent many hours in everyday upon Sevenbergen and Tergou, and speculated on every change offeeling and circumstance that his exile might bring about.

  Gerard now offered money to the soldier. He hesitated, but declined it."No, no! art comrade of my comrade; and may"----(etc.)----"but thy lovefor the wench touches me. I'll break another bottle at thy charge anthou wilt, and so cry quits."

  "Well said, comrade," cried Denys. "Hadst taken money, I had invitedthee to walk in the court-yard and cross swords with me."

  "Whereupon I had cut thy comb for thee," retorted the other.

  "Hadst done thy endeavour, drole, I doubt not."

  They drank the new bottle, shook hands, adhered to custom, and parted onopposite routes.

  This delay however somewhat put out Denys's calculations, and eveningsurprised them ere they reached a little town he was making for, wherewas a famous hotel. However, they fell in with a roadside auberge, andDenys, seeing a buxom girl at the door, said, "This seems a decent inn,"and led the way into the kitchen. They ordered supper, to which noobjection was raised, only the landlord requested them to pay for itbeforehand. It was not an uncommon proposal in any part of the world.Still it was not universal, and Denys was nettled, and dashed his handsomewhat ostentatiously into his purse and pulled out a gold angel."Count me the change, and speedily," said he. "You tavern-keepers aremore likely to rob me than I you."

  While the supper was preparing, Denys disappeared, and was eventuallyfound by Gerard in the yard, helping Manon, his plump but not brightdecoy duck, to draw water, and pouring extravagant compliments into herdullish ear. Gerard grunted and returned to table, but Denys did notcome in for a good quarter of an hour.

  "Up-hill work at the end of a march," said he shrugging his shoulders.

  "What matters that to you?" said Gerard, drily. "The mad dog bites allthe world."

  "Exaggerator. You know I bite but the fairer half. Well, here comessupper; that is better worth biting."

  During supper the girl kept constantly coming in and out, and lookingpoint-blank at them, especially at Denys; and at last in leaning overhim to remove a dish, dropped a word in his ear; and he replied with anod.

  As soon as supper was cleared away, Denys rose and strolled to the door,telling Gerard the sullen fair had relented, and given him a littlerendezvous in the stable yard.

  Gerard suggested that the cow-house would have been a more appropriatelocality. "I shall go to bed, then," said he, a little crossly. "Whereis the landlord? out at this time of night? no matter. I know our room.Shall you be long, pray?"

  "Not I. I grudge leaving the fire and thee. But what can I do? There aretwo sorts of invitations a Burgundian never declines."

  Denys found a figure seated by the well. It was Manon; but instead ofreceiving him as he thought he had a right to expect, coming byinvitation, all she did was to sob. He asked her what ailed her? Shesobbed. Could he do anything for her? She sobbed.

  The good-natured Denys, driven to his wits' end, which was no greatdistance, proffered the custom of the country by way of consolation. Sherepulsed him roughly, "Is it a time for fooling?" said she, and sobbed.

  "You seem to think so," said Denys, waxing wroth. But the next moment headded, tenderly, "and I who could never bear to see beauty in distress."

  "It is not for myself."

  "Who then? your sweetheart?"

  "Oh, que nenni. My sweetheart is not on earth now: and to think I havenot an ecu to buy masses for his soul;" and in this shallow nature thegrief seemed now to be all turned in another direction.

  "Come, come," said Denys, "shalt have money to buy masses for thy deadlad; I swear it. Meantime tell me why you weep."

  "For you."

  "For me? Art mad?"

  "No. I am not mad. 'Tis you that were mad to open your purse beforehim."

  The mystery seemed to thicken, and Denys wearied of stirring up the mudby questions, held his peace to see if it would not clear of itself.Then the girl finding herself no longer questioned seemed to go throughsome internal combat. At last she said, doggedly and aloud, "I will. TheVirgin give me courage! What matters it if they kill me, since he isdead? Soldier, the landlord is out."

  "Oh, is he?"

  "What, do landlords leave their taverns at this time of night? also seewhat a tempest! We are sheltered here, but t'other side it blows ahurricane."

  Denys said nothing.

  "He is gone to fetch the band."

  "The band! what band?"

  "Those who will cut your throat and take your gold. Wretched man; to goand shake gold in an innkeeper's face!"

  The blow came so unexpectedly it staggered even Denys, accustomed as hewas to sudden perils. He muttered a single word, but in it a volume.

  "Gerard!"

  "Gerard! What is that? Oh, 'tis thy comrade's name, poor lad. Get himout quick ere they come; and fly to the next town."

  "And thou?"

  "They will kill me."

  "That shall they not. Fly with us."

  "'Twill avail me nought; one of the band will be sent to kill me. Theyare sworn to slay all who betray them."

  "I'll take thee to my native place full thirty leagues from hence, andput thee under my own mother's wing, ere they shall hurt a hair o' thyhead. But first Gerard. Stay thou here whilst I fetch him!"

  As he was darting off, the girl seized him convulsively, and with allthe iron strength excitement lends to women. "Stay me not! for pity'ssake," he
cried; "'tis life or death."

  "Sh!--sh!" whispered the girl, shutting his mouth hard with her hand,and putting her pale lips close to him, and her eyes, that seemed toturn backwards, straining towards some indistinct sound.

  He listened.

  He heard footsteps, many footsteps: and no voices. She whispered in hisear "They are come."

  And trembled like a leaf.

  Denys felt it was so. Travellers in that number would never have come indead silence.

  The feet were now at the very door.

  "How many?" said he in a hollow whisper.

  "Hush!" and she put her mouth to his very ear.

  And who, that had seen this man and woman in that attitude, would haveguessed what freezing hearts were theirs, and what terrible whisperspassed between them?

  "Seven."

  "How armed?"

  "Sword and dagger: and the giant with his axe. They call him the Abbot."

  "And my comrade?"

  "Nothing can save him. Better lose one life than two. Fly!"

  Denys's blood froze at this cynical advice. "Poor creature, you know nota soldier's heart."

  He put his head in his hands a moment, and a hundred thoughts of dangersbaffled whirled through his brain.

  "Listen, girl! There is one chance for our lives, if thou wilt but betrue to us. Run to the town; to the nearest tavern, and tell the firstsoldier there, that a soldier here is sore beset, but armed, and hislife to be saved if they will but run. Then to the bailiff. But first tothe soldiers. Nay, not a word, but buss me, good lass, and fly! men'slives hang on thy heels."

  She kilted up her gown to run. He came round to the road with her; sawher cross the road cringing with fear, then glide away, then turn intoan erect shadow, then melt away in the storm.

  And now he must get to Gerard. But how? He had to run the gauntlet ofthe whole band. He asked himself, what was the worst thing they coulddo? for he had learned in war that an enemy does, not what you hope hewill do, but what you hope he will not do. "Attack me as I enter thekitchen! Then I must not give them time."

  Just as he drew near to the latch, a terrible thought crossed him."Suppose they had already dealt with Gerard. Why, then," thought he,"nought is left but to kill, and be killed;" and he strung his bow, andwalked rapidly into the kitchen. There were seven hideous faces seatedround the fire, and the landlord pouring them out neat brandy, blood'sforerunner in every age.

  "What? company!" cried Denys, gaily: "one minute, my lads, and I'll bewith you;" and he snatched up a lighted candle off the table, opened thedoor that led to the staircase, and went up it hallooing. "What, Gerard!whither hast thou skulked to?" There was no answer. He hallooed louder,"Gerard, where art thou?"

  After a moment in which Denys lived an hour of agony, a peevishhalf-inarticulate noise issued from the room at the head of the littlestairs. Denys burst in, and there was Gerard asleep.

  "Thank God!" he said, in a choking voice, then began to sing loud,untuneful ditties. Gerard put his fingers into his ears; but presentlyhe saw in Denys's face a horror that contrasted strangely with thissudden merriment.

  "What ails thee?" said he, sitting up and staring.

  "Hush!" said Denys, and his hand spoke even more plainly than his lips."Listen to me."

  Denys then pointing significantly to the door, to show Gerard sharp earswere listening hard by, continued his song aloud, but under cover of itthrew in short muttered syllables.

  "(Our lives are in peril.)

  "(Thieves.)

  "(Thy doublet.)

  "(Thy sword.)

  "Aid.

  "Coming.

  "Put off time." Then aloud.

  "Well, now, wilt have t'other bottle? say Nay."

  "No, not I."

  "But I tell thee, there are half a dozen jolly fellows. Tired."

  "Ay, but I am too wearied," said Gerard. "Go thou."

  "Nay, nay!" Then he went to the door and called out cheerfully,"Landlord, the young milksop will not rise. Give those honest fellowst'other bottle. I will pay for't in the morning."

  He heard a brutal and fierce chuckle.

  Having thus by observation made sure the kitchen door was shut, and themiscreants were not actually listening, he examined the chamber doorclosely: then quietly shut it, but did not bolt it: and went andinspected the window.

  It was too small to get out of, and yet a thick bar of iron had been letin the stone to make it smaller; and, just as he made this chillingdiscovery, the outer door of the house was bolted with a loud clang.

  Denys groaned, "The beasts are in the shambles."

  * * * * *

  But would the thieves attack them while they were awake? Probably not.

  Not to throw away this their best chance the poor souls now made aseries of desperate efforts to converse, as if discussing ordinarymatters; and by this means Gerard learned all that had passed, and thatthe girl was gone for aid.

  "Pray Heaven, she may not lose heart by the way," said Denys,sorrowfully.

  And Denys begged Gerard's forgiveness for bringing him out of his wayfor this.

  Gerard forgave him.

  "I would fear them less, Gerard, but for one they call the Abbot. Ipicked him out at once. Taller than you, bigger than us both puttogether. Fights with an axe. Gerard, a man to lead a herd of deer tobattle. I shall kill that man to-night, or he will kill me. I thinksomehow 'tis he will kill me."

  "Saints forbid! Shoot him at the door! What avails his strength againstyour weapon?"

  "I shall pick him out: but, if it comes to hand fighting, run swiftlyunder his guard, or 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."

  Gerard was for bolting the door; but Denys with a sigh showed him thathalf the door-post turned outward on a hinge, and the great bolt waslittle more than a blind. "I have forborne to bolt it," said he, "thatthey may think us the less suspicious."

  Near an hour rolled away thus. It seemed an age. Yet it was but a littlehour: and the town was a league distant. And some of the voices in thekitchen became angry and impatient.

  "They will not wait much longer," said Denys, "and we have no chance atall unless we surprise them."

  "I will do whate'er you bid," said Gerard meekly.

  There was a cupboard on the same side as the door; but between it andthe window. It reached nearly to the ground, but not quite. Denys openedthe cupboard door and placed Gerard on a chair behind it. "If they runfor the bed, strike at the napes of their necks! a sword cut therealways kills or disables." He then arranged the bolsters and their shoesin the bed so as to deceive a person peeping from a distance, and drewthe short curtains at the head.

  Meantime Gerard was on his knees. Denys looked round and saw him.

  "Ah!" said Denys, "above all pray them to forgive me for bringing youinto this guetapens!"

  And now they grasped hands and looked in one another's eyes; oh, such alook! Denys's hand was cold, and Gerard's warm.

  They took their posts.

  Denys blew out the candle.

  "We must keep silence now."

  But in 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 heart thump at times.

  "Good news!" breathed Denys, listening at the door.

  "They are casting lots."

  * * * * *

  "Pray that it may be the Abbot."

  "Yes. Why?"

  "If he comes alone I can make sure of him."

  * * * * *

  "Denys!"

  "Ay!"

  "I fear I shall go mad, if they do not come soon."

  "Shall I feign sleep? Shall I snore?"

  "Will that--?"

  "Perhaps."

  "Do then, and God have mercy on us!"

  Denys snored at intervals.

 
There was a scuffling of feet heard in the kitchen, and then all wasstill.

  Denys snored again. Then took up his position behind the door.

  But he, or they, who had drawn the lot, seemed determined to run nofoolish risks. Nothing was attempted in a hurry.

  When they were almost starved with cold, and waiting for the attack, thedoor on the stairs opened softly and closed again. Nothing more.

  There was another harrowing silence.

  Then a single light footstep on the stair; and nothing more.

  Then a light crept under the door; and nothing more.

  * * * * *

  Presently there was a gentle scratching, not half so loud as a mouse's,and the false door-post opened by degrees and left a perpendicular spacethrough which the light streamed in. The door, had it been bolted, wouldnow have hung by the bare tip of the bolt, which went into the realdoor-post, but, as it was, it swung gently open of itself. It openedinwards, so Denys did not raise his crossbow from the ground, but merelygrasped his dagger.

  The candle was held up, and shaded from behind by a man's hand.

  He was inspecting the beds from the threshold, satisfied that hisvictims were both in bed.

  The man glided into the apartment. But at the first step something inthe position of the cupboard and chair made him uneasy. He ventured nofurther, but put the candle on the floor and stooped to peer under thechair; but, as he stooped, an iron hand grasped his shoulder, and adagger was driven so fiercely through his neck that the point came outat his gullet. There was a terrible hiccough, but no cry; and half adozen silent strokes followed in swift succession, each a death-blow,and the assassin was laid noiselessly on the floor.

  Denys closed the door; bolted it gently; drew the post to, and evenwhile he was doing it whispered Gerard to bring a chair. It was done.

  "Help me set him up."

  "Dead?"

  "Parbleu."

  "What for?"

  "Frighten them! Gain time."

  Even while saying this, Denys had whipped a piece of string round thedead man's neck, and tied him to the chair, and there the ghastly figuresat fronting the door.

  * * * * *

  "Denys, I can do better. Saints forgive me!"

  "What? Be quick then, we have not many moments."

  And Denys got his cross-bow ready, and, tearing off his straw mattress,reared it before him and prepared to shoot the moment the door shouldopen, for he had no hope any more would come singly, when they found thefirst did not return.

  While thus employed, Gerard was busy about the seated corpse, and, tohis amazement, Denys saw a luminous glow spreading rapidly over thewhite face.

  Gerard blew out the candle. And on this the corpse's face shone stillmore like a glowworm's head.

  Denys shook in his shoes, and his teeth chattered.

  "What in Heaven's name is this?" he whispered.

  "Hush! 'tis but phosphorus. But 'twill serve."

  "Away! they will surprise thee."

  In fact uneasy mutterings were heard below, and at last a deep voicesaid, "What makes him so long? is the drole rifling them?"

  It was their comrade they suspected then, not the enemy. Soon a stepcame softly but rapidly up the stairs: the door was gently tried.

  When this resisted, which was clearly not expected, the sham post wasvery cautiously moved, and an eye no doubt peeped through the aperture:for there was a howl of dismay, and the man was heard to stumble backand burst into the kitchen, where a babel of voices rose directly on hisreturn.

  Gerard ran to the dead thief and began to work on him again.

  "Back, madman!" whispered Denys.

  "Nay, nay. I know these ignorant brutes. They will not venture hereawhile. I can make him ten times more fearful."

  "At least close that opening! Let them not see you at your devilishwork."

  Gerard closed the sham post, and in half a minute his brush made thedead head a sight to strike any man with dismay. He put his art to astrange use, and one unparalleled perhaps in the history of mankind. Heilluminated his dead enemy's face to frighten his living foe: thestaring eyeballs he made globes of fire; the teeth he left white, for sothey were more terrible by the contrast, but the palate and tongue hetipped with fire, and made one lurid cavern of the red depths thechap-fallen jaw revealed: and on the brow he wrote in burning letters"LA MORT." And, while he was doing it, the stout Denys was quaking, andfearing the vengeance of Heaven; for one man's courage is not another's;and the band of miscreants below were quarrelling and disputing loudly,and now without disguise.

  The steps that led down to the kitchen were fifteen, but they werenearly perpendicular: there was therefore in point of fact no distancebetween the besiegers and besieged, and the latter now caught almostevery word. At last one was heard to cry out "I tell ye the devil hasgot him and branded him with hell-fire. I am more like to leave thiscursed house than go again into a room that is full of fiends."

  "Art drunk? or mad? or a coward?" said another.

  "Call me a coward, I'll give thee my dagger's point, and send thee wherePierre sits o' fire for ever."

  "Come, no quarrelling when work is afoot," roared a tremendous diapason,"or I'll brain ye both with my fist, and send ye where we shall all gosoon or late."

  "The Abbot," whispered Denys, gravely.

  He felt the voice he had just heard could belong to no man but thecolossus he had seen in passing through the kitchen. It made the placevibrate. The quarrelling continued some time, and then there was a deadsilence.

  "Look out, Gerard."

  "Ay. What will they do next?"

  "We shall soon know."

  * * * * *

  "Shall I wait for you, or cut down the first that opens the door?"

  "Wait for me, lest we strike the same and waste a blow. Alas! we cannotafford that."

  * * * * *

  Dead silence.

  * * * * *

  Sudden came into the room a thing that made them start and their heartsquiver.

  And what was it? A moonbeam.

  Even so can this machine, the body, by the soul's action be strung up tostart and quiver. The sudden ray shot keen and pure into that shamble.

  Its calm, cold, silvery soul traversed the apartment in a stream of nogreat volume; for the window was narrow.

  After the first tremor Gerard whispered, "Courage, Denys! God's eye ison us even here." And he fell upon his knees with his face turnedtowards the window.

  Ay it was like a holy eye opening suddenly on human crime and humanpassions. Many a scene of blood and crime that pure cold eye has restedon; but on few more ghastly than this, where two men, with a lightedcorpse between them, waited panting, to kill or be killed. Nor did themoonlight deaden that horrible corpse-light. If anything it added to itsghastliness: for the body sat at the edge of the moonbeam, which cutsharp across the shoulder and the ear, and seemed blue and ghastly andunnatural by the side of that lurid glow in which the face and eyes andteeth shone horribly. But Denys dared not look that way.

  The moon drew a broad stripe of light across the door, and on that hiseyes were glued. Presently he whispered, "Gerard!"

  Gerard looked and raised his sword.

  Acutely as they had listened they had heard of late no sound on thestair. Yet there--on the door-post, at the edge of the stream ofmoonlight, were the tips of the fingers of a hand.

  The nails glistened.

  * * * * *

  Presently they began to crawl, and crawl, down towards the bolt, butwith infinite slowness and caution. In so doing they crept into themoonlight. The actual motion was imperceptible, but slowly, slowly, thefingers came out whiter and whiter: but the hand between the mainknuckles and the wrist remained dark. Denys slowly raised his crossbow.

  He levelled it. He took a long steady aim.

  Gerard p
alpitated. At last the crossbow twanged. The hand was instantlynailed, with a stern jar, to the quivering doorpost. There was a screamof anguish. "Cut," whispered Denys eagerly, and Gerard's uplifted sworddescended and severed the wrist with two swift blows. A body sank downmoaning outside.

  The hand remained inside, immovable, with blood trickling from it downthe wall. The fierce bolt slightly barbed had gone through it, and deepinto the real door-post.

  DENYS SAW A STEEL POINT COME OUT OF THE ABBOT]

  "Two," said Denys, with terrible cynicism.

  He strung his crossbow, and kneeled behind his cover again.

  "The next will be the Abbot."

  The wounded man moved, and presently crawled down to his companions onthe stairs, and the kitchen door was shut.

  There nothing was heard now but low muttering. The last incident hadrevealed the mortal character of the weapons used by the besieged.

  "I begin to think the Abbot's stomach is not so great as his body," saidDenys.

  The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when the following eventshappened all in a couple of seconds. The kitchen door was openedroughly, a heavy but active man darted up the steps without any mannerof disguise, and a single ponderous blow sent the door not only off itshinges, but right across the room on to Denys's fortification, which itstruck so rudely as nearly to lay him flat. And in the doorway stood acolossus with a glittering axe.

  He saw the dead man with the moon's blue light on half his face, and thered light on the other half and inside his chapfallen jaws: he stared,his arms fell, his knees knocked together, and he crouched with terror.

  "LA MORT!" he cried in tones of terror, and turned and fled. In whichact Denys started up and shot him through both jaws. He sprang with onebound into the kitchen, and there leaned on his axe, spitting blood andteeth and curses.

  Denys strung his bow and put his hand into his breast.

  He drew it out dismayed.

  "My last bolt is gone," he groaned.

  "But we have our swords, and you have slain the giant."

  "No, Gerard," said Denys gravely: "I have not. And the worst is I havewounded him. Fool! to shoot at a retreating lion. He had never faced thyhandiwork again, but for my meddling."

  "Ha! to your guard! I hear them open the door."

  Then Denys, depressed by the one error he had committed in all thisfearful night, felt convinced his last hour had come. He drew his sword,but like one doomed. But what is this? a red light flickers on theceiling. Gerard flew to the window and looked out. There were men withtorches, and breastplates gleaming red. "We are saved! Armed men!" Andhe dashed his sword through the window shouting "Quick! quick! we aresore pressed."

  "Back!" yelled Denys; "they come! strike none but him!"

  That very moment the Abbot and two men with naked weapons rushed intothe room. Even as they came, the outer door was hammered fiercely, andthe Abbot's comrades hearing it, and seeing the torchlight, turned andfled. Not so the terrible Abbot: wild with rage and pain, he spurned hisdead comrade, chair and all, across the room, then, as the men faced himon each side with kindling eyeballs, he waved his tremendous axe like afeather right and left, and cleared a space, then lifted it to hew themboth in pieces.

  His antagonists were inferior in strength, but not in swiftness anddaring, and above all they had settled how to attack him. The moment hereared his axe, they flew at him like cats, and both together. If hestruck a full blow with his weapon he would most likely kill one, butthe other would certainly kill him: he saw this, and intelligent as wellas powerful, he thrust the handle fiercely in Denys's face, and,turning, jabbed with the steel at Gerard. Denys went staggering backcovered with blood. Gerard had rushed in like lightning, and, just asthe axe turned to descend on him, drove his sword so fiercely throughthe giant's body, that the very hilt sounded on his ribs like the blowof a pugilist, and Denys, staggering back to help his friend, saw asteel point come out of the Abbot behind.

  The stricken giant bellowed like a bull, dropped his axe, and clutchingGerard's throat tremendously, shook him like a child. Then Denys with afierce snarl drove his sword into the giant's back. "Stand firm now!"and he pushed the cold steel through and through the giant and out athis breast.

  Thus horribly spitted on both sides, the Abbot, gave a violent shudder,and his heels hammered the ground convulsively. His lips, fast turningblue, opened wide and deep, and he cried "LA MORT!--LA MORT!--LA MORT!!"The first time in a roar of despair, and then twice in a horror-strickenwhisper never to be forgotten.

  Just then the street door was forced.

  Suddenly the Abbot's arms whirled like windmills, and his huge bodywrenched wildly and carried them to the doorway, twisting their wristsand nearly throwing them off their legs.

  "He'll win clear yet," cried Denys: "out steel! and in again!"

  They tore out their smoking swords, but, ere they could stab again, theAbbot leaped full five feet high, and fell with a tremendous crashagainst the door below, carrying it away with him like a sheet of paper,and through the aperture the glare of torches burst on the awe struckfaces above, half blinding them.

  * * * * *

  The thieves at the first alarm had made for the back door, but driventhence by a strong guard ran back to the kitchen, just in time to seethe lock forced out of the socket, and half a dozen mailed archers burstin upon them. On these in pure despair they drew their swords.

  But ere a blow was struck on either side, the staircase door behind themwas battered into their midst with one ponderous blow, and with it theAbbot's body came flying, hurled, as they thought by no mortal hand, androlled on the floor spouting blood from back and bosom in two furiousjets, and quivered, but breathed no more.

  The thieves smitten with dismay fell on their knees directly, and thearchers bound them, while, above, the rescued ones still stood likestatues rooted to the spot, their dripping swords extended in the redtorchlight, expecting their indomitable enemy to leap back on them aswonderfully as he had gone.