CHAPTER LII
AMONG strangers Margaret Brandt was comparatively happy. And soon a newand unexpected cause of content arose. A civic dignitary being ill, andfanciful in proportion, went from doctor to doctor; and having arrivedat Death's door, sent for Peter. Peter found him bled and purged tonothing. He flung a battalion of bottles out of the window, and left itopen; beat up yolks of eggs in neat Schiedam, and administered it insmall doses: followed this up by meat stewed in red wine and water,shredding into both mild febrifugal herbs, that did no harm. Finally,his patient got about again, looking something between a man and apillow-case, and being a voluble dignitary, spread Peter's fame in everystreet; and that artist, who had long merited a reputation in vain, madeone rapidly by luck. Things looked bright. The old man's pride wascheered at last, and his purse began to fill. He spent much of his gain,however, in sovereign herbs and choice drugs, and would have so investedthem all, but Margaret white-mailed a part. The victory came too late.Its happy excitement was fatal.
One evening, in bidding her good-night, his voice seemed ratherinarticulate.
The next morning he was found speechless, and only just sensible.
Margaret, who had been for years her father's attentive pupil, saw atonce that he had had a paralytic stroke. But not trusting to herself,she ran for a doctor. One of those, who, obstructed by Peter, had notkilled the civic dignitary, came, and cheerfully confirmed her views. Hewas for bleeding the patient. She declined. "He was always againstblooding," said she, "especially the old." Peter lived, but was neverthe same man again. His memory became much affected, and of course hewas not to be trusted to prescribe: and several patients had come, andone or two, that were bent on being cured by the new doctor and noother, awaited his convalescence. Misery stared her in the face. Sheresolved to go for advice and comfort to her cousin William Johnson,from whom she had hitherto kept aloof out of pride and poverty. Shefound him and his servant sitting in the same room, and neither of themthe better for liquor. Mastering all signs of surprise, she gave hergreetings, and presently told him she had come to talk on a familymatter, and with this glanced quietly at the servant by way of hint. Thewoman took it, but not as expected.
"Oh, you can speak before me, can she not, my old man?"
At this familiarity Margaret turned very red, and said,--
"I cry your mercy, mistress. I knew not my cousin had fallen into thecustom of this town. Well, I must take a fitter opportunity"; and sherose to go.
"I wot not what ye mean by custom o' the town," said the woman, bouncingup. "But this I know: 'tis the part of a faithful servant to keep hermaster from being preyed on by his beggarly kin."
Margaret retorted: "Ye are too modest, mistress. Ye are no servant. Yourspeech betrays you. 'Tis not till the ape hath mounted the tree that sheshows her tail so plain. Nay, there sits the servant; God help him! Andwhile so it is, fear not thou his kin will ever be so poor in spirit, ascome where the likes of you can flout their dole." And casting one lookof mute reproach at her cousin for being so little of a man as to sitpassive and silent all this time, she turned and went haughtily out; norwould she shed a single tear till she got home and thought of it. Andnow here were two men to be lodged and fed by one pregnant girl; andanother mouth coming into the world.
But this last, though the most helpless of all, was their best friend.
Nature was strong in Margaret Brandt; that same nature which makes thebrutes, the birds and the insects, so cunning at providing food andshelter for their progeny yet to come.
Stimulated by nature she sat and brooded, and brooded, and thought, andthought, how to be beforehand with destitution. Ay, though she had stillfive gold pieces left, she saw starvation coming with inevitable foot.
Her sex, when, deviating from custom, it thinks with male intensity,thinks just as much to the purpose as we do. She rose, bade Martin movePeter to another room, made her own very neat and clean, polished theglass globe, and suspended it from the ceiling, dusted the crocodile andnailed him to the outside wall: and, after duly instructing Martin, sethim to play the lounging sentinel about the street door, and tell thecrocodile-bitten that a great, and aged, and learned alchymist abodethere, who in his moments of recreation would sometimes amuse himself bycuring mortal diseases.
Patients soon came, and were received by Margaret, and demanded to seethe leech. "That might not be. He was deep in his studies, searching forthe grand elixir, and not princes could have speech of him. They musttell her their symptoms, and return in two hours." And, oh! mysteriouspowers! when they did return, the drug or draught was always ready forthem. Sometimes, when it was a worshipful patient, she would carefullyscan his face, and feeling both pulse and skin, as well as hearing hisstory, would go softly with it to Peter's room; and there think and askherself how her father, whose system she had long quietly observed,would have treated the case. Then she would write an illegible scrawlwith a cabalistic letter, and bring it down, reverentially, and show itthe patient, and "Could he read that?" Then it would be either "I am noreader," or, with admiration, "Nay mistress, nought can I make on't."
"Ay, but I can. 'Tis sovereign. Look on thyself as cured!" If she hadthe materials by her, and she was too good an economist not to favoursomewhat those medicines she had in her own stock, she would sometimeslet the patient see her compound it, often and anxiously consulting thesacred prescription lest great Science should suffer in her hands. Andso she would send them away relieved of cash, but with their pocketsfull of medicine, and minds full of faith, and humbugged to theirheart's content. _Populus vult decipi._ And when they were gone, shewould take down two little boxes Gerard had made her; and on one ofthese she had written _To-day_, and on the other _To-morrow_, and putthe smaller coins into "To-day," and the larger into "To-morrow," alongwith such of her gold pieces as had survived the journey fromSevenbergen, and the expenses of housekeeping in a strange place. And soshe met current expenses, and laid by for the rainy day she saw coming,and mixed drugs with simples, and vice with virtue. On this last scoreher conscience pricked her sore, and after each day's comedy, she kneltdown and prayed God to forgive her "for the sake of her child." But loand behold cure after cure was reported to her: so then her consciencebegan to harden. Martin Wittenhaagen had of late been a dead weight onher hands. Like most men who have endured great hardships, he hadstiffened rather suddenly. But, though less supple, he was as strong asever, and at his own pace could have carried the doctor herself roundRotterdam city. He carried her slops instead.
In this new business he showed the qualities of a soldier: unreasoningobedience, punctuality, accuracy, despatch and drunkenness.
He fell among "good fellows"; the blackguards plied him with Schiedam;he babbled, he bragged.
Doctor Margaret had risen very high in his estimation. All thisbrandishing of a crocodile for a standard, and setting a dotard inambush, and getting rid of slops, and taking good money in exchange,struck him not as Science but something far superior, Strategy. And heboasted in his cups and before a mixed company how "me and my General weare a biting of the burghers."
When this revelation had had time to leaven the city, his General,Doctor Margaret, received a call from the constables: they took her,trembling and begging subordinate machines to forgive her, before theburgomaster; and by his side stood real physicians, a terrible row, inlong robes and square caps, accusing her of practising unlawfully on thebodies of the duke's lieges. At first she was too frightened to say aword. Novice like, the very name of "Law" paralyzed her. But beingquestioned closely, but not so harshly as if she had been ugly, she toldthe truth; she had long been her father's pupil, and had but followedhis system, and she had cured many; "and it is not for myself in verydeed, sirs, but I have two poor helpless honest men at home upon myhands, and how else can I keep them? Ah, good sirs, let a poor girl makeher bread honestly; ye hinder them not to make it idly and shamefully:and oh, sirs, ye are husbands, ye are fathers; ye cannot but see I havereason to work and provide as best I may";
and ere this woman's appealhad left her lips, she would have given the world to recall it, andstood with one hand upon her heart and one before her face, hiding it,but not the tears that trickled underneath it. All which went to thewrong address. Perhaps a female bailiff might have yielded to sucharguments, and bade her practise medicine, and break law, till such timeas her child should be weaned, and no longer.
"What have we to do with that," said the burgomaster, "save and exceptthat if thou wilt pledge thyself to break the law no more, I will remitthe imprisonment, and exact but the fine."
On this Doctor Margaret clasped her hands together, and vowed mostpentitently never, never, never, to cure body or beast again; and beingdismissed with the constables to pay the fine, she turned at the door,and curtsied, poor soul, and thanked the gentlemen for theirforbearance.
And to pay the fine the "to-morrow box" must be opened on the instant;and with excess of caution she had gone and nailed it up, that no slighttemptation might prevail to open it. And now she could not draw thenails, and the constables grew impatient, and doubted its contents, andsaid, "Let us break it for you." But she would not let them. "Ye willbreak it worse than I shall." And she took a hammer, and struck toofaintly, and lost all strength for a minute, and wept hysterically; andat last she broke it, and a little cry broke from her when it broke: andshe paid the fine, and it took all her unlawful gains and two goldpieces to boot; and, when the men were gone, she drew the broken piecesof the box, and what little money they had left her, all together on thetable, and her arms went round them, and her rich hair escaped and felldown all loose, and she bowed her forehead on the wreck, and sobbed, "Mylove's box it is broken, and my heart withal"; and so remained. AndMartin Wittenhaagen came in, and she could not lift her head, but sighedout to him what had befallen her, ending, "My love his box is broken,and so mine heart is broken."
And Martin was not so sad as wroth. Some traitor had betrayed him. Whatstony heart had told and brought her to this pass? Whoever it was shouldfeel his arrow's point. The curious attitude in which he must deliverthe shaft never occurred to him.
"Idle chat! idle chat!" moaned Margaret, without lifting her brow fromthe table. "When you have slain all the gossips in this town, can we eatthem? Tell me how to keep you all, or prithee hold thy peace, and letthe saints get leave to whisper me." Martin held his tongue, and castuneasy glances at his defeated General.
Towards evening she rose, and washed her face and did up her hair, anddoggedly bade Martin take down the crocodile, and put out a basketinstead.
"I can get up linen better than they seem to do it in this street," saidshe, "and you must carry it in the basket."
"That will I for thy sake," said the soldier.
"Good Martin! forgive me that I spake shrewishly to thee."
Even while they were talking came a male for advice. Margaret told itthe mayor had interfered and forbidden her to sell drugs. "But," saidshe, "I will gladly iron and starch your linen for you, and--I will comeand fetch it from your house."
"Are ye mad, young woman?" said the male. "I come for a leech, and yeproffer me a washerwoman;" and it went out in dudgeon.
"There is a stupid creature," said Margaret sadly.
Presently came a female to tell the symptoms of her sick child. Margaretstopped it.
"We are forbidden by the bailiff to sell drugs. But I will gladly wash,iron, and starch your linen for you--and--I will come and fetch it fromyour house."
"Oh, ay," said the female. "Well, I have some smocks and ruffs foul.Come for them; and when you _are_ there, you can look at the boy"; andit told her where it lived, and when its husband would be out; yet itwas rather fond of its husband than not.
An introduction is an introduction. And two or three patients, out ofall those who came and were denied medicine, made Doctor Margaret theirwasherwoman.
"Now, Martin, you must help. I'll no more cats than can slay mice."
"Mistress, the stomach is not a wanting for't, but the head-piece, worseluck."
"Oh! I mean not the starching and ironing; that takes a woman and ahandy one. But the bare washing; a man can surely contrive that. Why, amule has wit enough in's head to do't with his hoofs, an ye could drivehim into the tub. Come, off doublet, and try."
"I am your man," said the brave old soldier, stripping for the unwontedtoil. "I'll risk my arm in soapsuds, an' you will risk your glory."
"My what?"
"Your glory and honour as a--washerwoman."
"Gramercy! if you are man enough to bring me half-washed linen t'iron, Iam woman enough to fling't back i' the suds."
And so the brave girl, and the brave soldier, worked with a will, andkept the wolf from the door. More they could not do. Margaret hadrepaired "the to-morrow box," and, as she leaned over the glue, hertears mixed with it, and she cemented her exiled lover's box with them,at which a smile is allowable, but an intelligent smile tipped withpity, please, and not the empty guffaw of the nineteenth-century-jackass,burlesquing Bibles, and making fun of all things except fun. But whenmended it stood unreplenished.
They kept the weekly rent paid, and the pot boiling, but no more.
And now came a concatenation. Recommended from one to another, Margaretwashed for the mayor. And bringing home the clean linen one day sheheard in the kitchen that his worship's only daughter was stricken withdisease, and not like to live. Poor Margaret could not helpcross-questioning, and a female servant gave her such of the symptoms asshe had observed. But they were too general. However, one gossip wouldadd one fact, and another another. And Margaret pondered them all.
At last one day she met the mayor himself. He recognized her directly."Why, you are the unlicensed doctor." "I was," said she, "but now I'myour worship's washerwoman." The dignitary coloured, and said that wasrather a come down.
"Nay, I bear no malice; for your worship might have been harder. Ratherwould I do you a good turn. Sir, you have a sick daughter. Let me seeher."
The mayor shook his head. "That cannot be. The law I do enforce onothers I may not break myself." Margaret opened her eyes.
"Alack, sir, I seek no guerdon now for curing folk; why, I am awasherwoman. I trow one may heal all the world, an if one will but letthe world starve one in return." "That is no more than just," said themayor: he added, "an ye make no trade on't; there is no offence." "Thenlet me see her."
"What avails it? The learnedst leeches in Rotterdam have all seen her,and bettered her nought. Her ill is inscrutable. One skilled wight saithspleen; another, liver; another, blood; another, stomach; and another,that she is possessed: and, in very truth, she seems to have a demon;shunneth all company; pineth alone; eateth no more victuals than mightdiet a sparrow. Speaketh seldom, nor hearkens them that speak, andweareth thinner and paler and nearer and nearer the grave, well-a-day.""Sir," said Margaret, "an if you take your velvet doublet to half adozen of shops in Rotterdam, and speer is this fine or sorry velvet, andworth how much the ell, those six traders will eye it and feel it, andall be in one story to a letter. And why? Because they know their trade.And your leeches are all in different stories. Why? Because they knownot their trade. I have heard my father say each is enamoured of someone evil, and seeth it with his bat's eyn in every patient. Had theystayed at home, and ne'er seen your daughter, they had answered all thesame, spleen, blood, stomach, lungs, liver, lunacy, or, as they call it,possession. Let me see her. We are of a sex, and that is much." And whenhe still hesitated, "Saints of Heaven!" cried she, giving way to theirritability of a breeding woman, "is this how men love their own fleshand blood? Her mother had ta'en me in her arms ere this, and carried meto the sick room." And two violet eyes flashed fire.
"Come with me," said the mayor, hastily.
* * * * *
"Mistress, I have brought thee a new doctor."
The person addressed, a pale young girl of eighteen, gave a contemptuouswrench of her shoulder, and turned more decidedly to the fire she wassitting over.
Marga
ret came softly and sat beside her. "But 'tis one that will nottorment you."
"A woman!" exclaimed the young lady, with surprise and some contempt.
"Tell her your symptoms."
"What for? You will be no wiser."
"You will be none the worse."
"Well, I have no stomach for food, and no heart for anything. Now cureme, and go."
"Patience awhile! Your food, is it tasteless like in your mouth?"
"Ay. How knew you that?"
"Nay, I knew it not till you did tell me. I trow you would be better fora little good company."
"I trow not. What is their silly chat to me?"
Here Margaret requested the father to leave them alone: and in hisabsence put some practical questions. Then she reflected.
"When you wake i' the morning you find yourself quiver, as one may say?"
"Nay. Ay. How knew you that?"
"Shall I dose you, or shall I but tease you a bit with my 'silly chat'?"
"Which you will."
"Then I will tell you a story. 'Tis about two true lovers."
"I hate to hear of lovers," said the girl; "nevertheless canst tell me,'twill be less nauseous than your physic--maybe."
Margaret then told her a love story. The maiden was a girl calledUrsel, and the youth one Conrad; she an old physician's daughter, he theson of a hosier at Tergou. She told their adventures, their troubles,their sad condition. She told it from the female point of view, and in asweet and winning and earnest voice, that by degrees soon laid hold ofthis sullen heart, and held it breathless; and when she broke it off herpatient was much disappointed.
"Nay, nay, I must hear the end. I will hear it."
"Ye cannot, for I know it not; none knoweth that but God."
"Ah, your Ursel was a jewel of worth," said the girl earnestly. "Wouldshe were here."
"Instead of her that is here."
"I say not that;" and she blushed a little.
"You do but think it."
"Thought is free. Whether or no, an she were here, I'd give her a buss,poor thing."
"Then give it me, for I am she."
"Nay, nay, that I'll be sworn y' are not."
"Say not so; in very truth I am she. And prithee, sweet mistress, go notfrom your word, but give me the buss ye promised me, and with a goodheart, for oh, my own heart lies heavy: heavy as thine, sweet mistress."
The young gentlewoman rose and put her arms round Margaret's neck andkissed her. "I am woe for you," she sighed. "You are a good soul; youhave done me good--a little." (A gulp came in her throat.) "Come again!come often!"
Margaret did come again, and talked with her, and gently, but keenly,watched what topics interested her, and found there was but one. Thenshe said to the mayor, "I know your daughter's trouble, and 'tiscurable."
"What is't? the blood?"
"Nay."
"The stomach?"
"Nay."
"The liver?"
"Nay."
"The foul fiend?"
"Nay."
"What then?"
"Love."
"Love? stuff, impossible! She is but a child; she never stirs abroadunguarded. She never hath from a child."
"All the better; then we shall not have far to look for him."
"I trow not. I shall but command her to tell me the catiff's name, thathath by magic arts ensnared her young affections."
"Oh, how foolish be the wise!" said Margaret; "what, would ye go and puther on her guard? Nay, let us work by art first; and if that fails, then'twill still be time for violence and folly."
Margaret then with some difficulty prevailed on the mayor to takeadvantage of its being Saturday, and pay all his people their salariesin his daughter's presence and hers.
It was done: some fifteen people entered the room, and received theirpay with a kind word from their employer. Then Margaret, who had satclose to the patient all the time, rose and went out. The mayor followedher.
"Sir, how call you yon black haired lad?"
"That is Ulrich, my clerk."
"Well then, 'tis he."
"Now heaven forbid! a lad I took out of the streets."
"Well, but your worship is an understanding man. You took him not upwithout some merit of his."
"Merit? not a jot. I liked the looks of the brat, that was all."
"Was that no merit? He pleased the father's eye. And now he hath pleasedthe daughter's. That has oft been seen since Adam."
"How know ye 'tis he?"
"I held her hand, and with my finger did lightly touch her wrist; and,when the others came and went, 'twas as if dogs and cats had fared inand out. But at this Ulrich's coming her pulse did leap, and her eyesshine; and, when he went, she did sink back and sigh; and 'twas to beseen the sun had gone out of the room for her. Nay, burgomaster, looknot on me so scared: no witch nor magician I, but a poor girl that hathbeen docile, and so bettered herself by a great neglected leech's artand learning. I tell ye all this hath been done before, thousands ofyears ere we were born. Now bide thou there till I come to thee, andprithee, prithee, spoil not good work wi' meddling." She then went backand asked her patient for a lock of her hair.
"Take it," said she, more listlessly than ever.
"Why, 'tis a lass of marble. How long do you count to be like that,mistress?"
"Till I am in my grave, sweet Peggy."
"Who knows? may be in ten minutes you will be altogether as hot."
She ran into the shop, but speedily returned to the mayor and said,"Good news! He fancies her and more than a little. Now how is't to be?Will you marry your child, or bury her, for there is no third way, sithshame and love they do rend her virgin heart to death."
The dignitary decided for the more cheerful rite, but 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 their wormwood,he stood silent. So Doctor Margaret said cheerfully, "Mistress, yourlock is gone, I have sold it."
"And who was so mad as to buy such a thing?" inquired the young lady,scornfully.
"Oh, a black haired laddie wi' white teeth. They call him Ulrich."
The pale face reddened directly--brow and all.
"Says he, 'Oh, sweet mistress, give it me.' I had told them all whose'twas. 'Nay,' said I, 'selling is my livelihood, not giving.' So heoffered me this, he offered me that, but nought less would I take thanhis next quarter's wages."
"Cruel," murmured the girl, scarce audibly.
"Why, you are in one tale with your father. Says he to me when I toldhim, 'Oh, an he loves her hair so well, 'tis odd but he loves the restof her. Well,' quoth he, ''tis an honest lad, and a' shall have her,gien she will but leave her sulks and consent.' So, what say ye,mistress will you be married to Ulrich, or buried i' the kirkyard?"
"Father? father!"
"'Tis so, girl, speak thy mind."
"I--will--obey--my father--in all things," stammered the poor girl,trying hard to maintain the advantageous position in which Margaret hadplaced her. But nature, and the joy and surprise, were too strong evenfor a virgin's bashful cunning. She cast an eloquent look on them both,and sank at her father's knees, and begged his pardon, with many sobsfor having doubted his tenderness.
He raised her in his arms, and took her, radiant through her tears withjoy, and returning life, and filial love, to his breast; and the pairpassed a truly sacred moment, and the dignitary was as happy as hethought to be miserable: so hard is it for mortals to foresee. And theylooked round for Margaret, but she had stolen away softly.
The young girl searched the house for her.
"Where is she hid? Where on earth is she?"
Where was she? why in her own house dressing meat for her two oldchildren, and crying bitterly the while at the living picture ofhappiness she had just created.
"Well-a-day, the odds between her lot and mine; well-a-day!"
* * * * *
Next time she met the dignitary, he hemm'd
and hawed, and remarked whata pity it was the law forbade him to pay her who had cured his daughter."However, when all is done, 'twas not art, 'twas but woman's wit."
"Nought but that, burgomaster," said Margaret, bitterly. "Pay the men ofart for not curing her: all the guerdon I seek, that cured her, is this;go not and give your foul linen away from me by way of thanks."
"Why should I?" inquired he.
"Marry, because there be fools about ye will tell ye she that hath witto cure dark diseases, cannot have wit to take dirt out o' rags; sopledge me your faith."
The dignitary promised pompously, and felt all the patron.
* * * * *
Something must be done to fill "to-morrow's box." She hawked her initialletters and her illuminated vellums all about the town. Printing had bythis time dealt caligraphy in black and white a terrible blow in Hollandand Germany. But some copies of the printed books were usuallyilluminated and lettered. The printers offered Margaret prices for workin these two kinds.
"I'll think on't," said she.
She took down her diurnal book, and calculated that the price of anhour's work on those arts would be about one fifth what she got for anhour at the tub and mangle. "I'll starve first," said she; "what, pay acraft and a mystery five times less than a handicraft!"
Martin, carrying the dry clothes-basket, got treated, and drunk. Thistime he babbled her whole story. The girls got hold of it and gibed herat the fountain.
All she had gone through was light to her, compared with the pins andbodkins her own sex drove into her heart, whenever she came near themerry crew with her pitcher, and that was every day. Each sex has itsform of cruelty; man's is more brutal and terrible; but shallow women,that have neither read nor suffered, have an unmuscular barbarity oftheir own (where no feeling of sex steps in to overpower it). Thisdefect, intellectual perhaps rather than moral, has been mitigated inour day by books, especially by able works of fiction; for there are tworoads to that highest effort of intelligence, Pity; Experience ofsorrows, and Imagination, by which alone we realize the grief we neverfelt. In the fifteenth century girls with pitchers had but one;Experience; and at sixteen years of age or so, that road had scarce beentrodden. These girls persisted that Margaret was deserted by her lover.And to be deserted was a crime. [They had not been deserted yet.] Not aword against the Gerard they had created out of their own heads. For hisimaginary crime they fell foul of the supposed victim. Sometimes theyaffronted her to her face. Oftener they talked at her backwards andforwards with a subtle skill, and a perseverence which, "oh, that theyhad bestowed on the arts," as poor Ague Cheek says.
Now Margaret was brave, and a coward; brave to battle difficulties andill fortune; brave to shed her own blood for those she loved. Fortitudeshe had. But she had no true fighting courage. She was a powerful youngwoman, rather tall, full, and symmetrical; yet had one of those slips ofgirls slapped her face, the poor fool's hands would have droppedpowerless, or gone to her own eyes instead of her adversary's. Nor wasshe even a match for so many tongues; and, besides, what could she say?She knew nothing of these girls, except that somehow they had found outher sorrows, and hated her; only she thought to herself they must bevery happy, or they would not be so hard on her.
So she took their taunts in silence; and all her struggle was not to letthem see their power to make her writhe within.
Here came in her fortitude; and she received their blows withwell-feigned, icy, hauteur. They slapped a statue.
But one day, when her spirits were weak, as happens at times to femalesin her condition, a dozen assailants followed suit so admirably, thather whole sex seemed to the dispirited one to be against her, and shelost heart, and the tears began to run silently at each fresh stab.
On this their triumph knew no bounds, and they followed her half wayhome casting barbed speeches.
After that exposure of weakness the statue could be assumed no more. Sothen she would stand timidly aloof out of tongue-shot, till her youngtyrants' pitchers were all filled, and they gone; and then creep up withhers. And one day she waited so long that the fount had ceased to flow.So the next day she was obliged to face the phalanx, or her house godry. She drew near slowly, but with the less tremor, that she saw a manat the well talking to them. He would distract their attention, and,besides, they would keep their foul tongues quiet if only to blind themale to their real character. This conjecture, though shrewd, waserroneous. They could not all flirt with that one man: so the outsidersindemnified themselves by talking at her the very moment she came up.
"Any news from foreign parts, Jacqueline?"
"None for me, Martha. My lad goes no farther from me than the townwall."
"I can't say as much," says a third.
"But if he goes t' Italy I have got another ready to take the fool'splace."
"He'll not go thither, lass. They go not so far till they are sick of usthat bide in Holland."
Surprise, and indignation, and the presence of a man, gave Margaret amoment's fighting courage. "Oh, flout me not, and show your ill naturebefore the very soldier. In Heaven's name, what ill did I ever to ye;what harsh word cast back, for all you have flung on me, a desolatestranger in your cruel town, that ye flout me for my bereavement and mypoor lad's most unwilling banishment? Hearts of flesh would surely pityus both, for that ye cast in my teeth these many days, ye brows ofbrass, ye bosoms of stone."
They stared at this novelty, resistance; and ere they could recover andmake mincemeat of her, she put her pitcher quietly down, and threw hercoarse apron over her head, and stood there grieving, her short-livedspirit oozing fast. "Hallo!" cried the soldier, "why, what is your ill?"She made no reply. But a little girl, who had long secretly hated thebig ones, squeaked out, "They did flout her, they are aye flouting her:she may not come nigh the fountain for fear o' them, and 'tis a blackshame."
"Who spoke to her? Not I for one."
"Nor I. I would not bemean myself so far."
The man laughed heartily at this display of dignity. "Come, wife," saidhe, "never lower thy flag to such light skirmishers as these. Hast atongue i' thy head as well as they."
"Alack, good soldier, I was not bred to bandy foul terms."
"Well, but hast a better arm than these. Why not take 'em by twos acrossthy knee, and skelp 'em till they cry Meculpee?"
"Nay, I would not hurt their bodies for all their cruel hearts."
"Then ye must e'en laugh at them, wife. What! a woman grown, and 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 rim undertheir bright eyes, that comes of dwelling in eternal swamps. There liesyour crime. Come, gie me thy pitcher, and, if they flout me, shalt seeme scrub 'em all wi' my beard till they squeak holy mother." The pitcherwas soon filled, and the soldier put it in Margaret's hand. She murmured"Thank you kindly, brave soldier."
He patted her on the shoulder. "Come, courage, brave wife; the divell isdead!" She let the heavy pitcher fall on his foot directly. He cursedhorribly, and hopped in a circle, saying, "No, the Thief's alive and hasbroken my great toe."
The apron came down, and there was a lovely face all flushed withemotion, and two beaming eyes in front of him, and two hands held outclasped.
"Nay, nay, 'tis nought," said he, good-humouredly, mistaking.
"Denys?"
"Well?--But--Hallo! How know you my name is--"
"Denys of Burgundy!"
"Why, odsbodikins! I know you not, and you know me."
"By Gerard's letter. Cross-bow! beard! handsome! The divell is dead."
"Sword of Goliah! this must be she. Red hair, violet eyes, lovely face.But I took ye for a married wife, seeing ye--"
"Tell me my name," said she quickly.
"Margaret Brandt."
"Gerard? Where is he? Is he in life? Is he well? Is he come? Why is henot here? Where have ye left him? Oh, tell me! prithee, prithee,prithee, tell me!"
"Ay, ay, but not here. Oh,
ye are all curiosity now, mesdames, eh? Lass,I have been three months a-foot travelling all Holland to find ye, andhere you are. Oh, be joyful!" and he flung his cap in the air, andseizing both her hands kissed them ardently. "Ah, my pretty she-comrade,I have found thee at last. I knew I should. Shalt be flouted no more.I'll twist your necks at the first word, ye little trollops. And I havegot fifteen gold angels left for thee, and our Gerard will soon be here.Shalt wet thy purple eyes no more."
But the fair eyes were wet even now, looking kindly and gratefully atthe friend that had dropped among her foes as if from heaven: Gerard'scomrade. "Prithee come home with me, good, kind Denys. I cannot speak ofhim before these." They went off together, followed by a chorus. "Shehas gotten a man. She has gotten a man at last. Hoo! hoo! hoo!"
Margaret quickened her steps; but Denys took down his crossbow andpretended to shoot them all dead: they fled quadrivious, shrieking.
The Cloister and the Hearth: A Tale of the Middle Ages Page 53
