CHAPTER LV
"NAY, Richart," said Catherine at last, "for Heaven's sake let not thisone sorry wench set us all by the ears: hath she not made ill bloodenough already?"
"In very deed she hath. Fear me not, good mother. Let her come and readthe letter of the poor boy she hath by devilish arts bewitched, and thenlet her go. Give me your words to show her no countenance beyond decentand constrained civility: less we may not, being in our own house; and Iwill say no more." On this understanding they awaited the foe. She, forher part, prepared for the interview in a spirit little less hostile.
When Denys brought word they would not come to her, but would receiveher, her lip curled, and she bade him observe how in them every feeling,however small, was larger than the love for Gerard. "Well," said she,"I have not that excuse; so why mimic the pretty burgher's pride, thepride of all unlettered folk? I will go to them for Gerard's sake. Oh,how I loathe them!"
Thus poor good-natured Denys was bringing into one house the materialsof an explosion.
Margaret made her toilet in the same spirit that a knight of her daydressed for battle--he to parry blows, and she to parry glances--glancesof contempt at her poverty, or of irony at her extravagance. Her kirtlewas of English cloth, dark blue, and her farthingale and hose of thesame material, but a glossy roan, or claret colour. Not an inch ofpretentious fur about her, but plain snowy linen wrist-bands, andcuriously-plaited linen from the bosom of the kirtle up to thecommencement of the throat; it did not encircle her throat, but framedit, being square, not round. Her front hair still peeped in two wavesmuch after the fashion which Mary Queen of Scots revived a centurylater; but instead of the silver net, which would have ill become herpresent condition, the rest of her head was covered with a very smalltight-fitting hood of dark blue cloth, hemmed with silver. Her shoeswere red; but the roan petticoat and hose prepared the spectator's mindfor the shock, and they set off the arched instep and shapely foot.
Beauty knew its business then as now.
And with all this she kept her enemies waiting, though it was three bythe dial.
At last she started, attended by her he-comrade. And when they were halfway, she stopped and said thoughtfully, "Denys!"
"Well, she-general?"
"I must go home" (piteously).
"What have ye left somewhat behind?"
"Ay."
"What?"
"My courage. Oh! oh! oh!"
"Nay, nay, be brave, she-general. I shall be with you."
"Ay, but wilt keep close to me when I be there?"
Denys promised, and she resumed her march, but gingerly.
Meantime, they were all assembled, and waiting for her with a strangemixture of feelings.
Mortification, curiosity, panting affection, aversion to her who came togratify those feelings, yet another curiosity to see what she was like,and what there was in her to bewitch Gerard, and make so much mischief.
At last Denys came alone, and whispered, "The she-comrade is without."
"Fetch her in," said Eli. "Now whist, all of ye. None speak to her butI."
They all turned their eyes to the door in dead silence.
A little muttering was heard outside; Denys's rough organ, and a woman'ssoft and mellow voice.
Presently that stopped; and then the door opened slowly, and MargaretBrandt, dressed as I have described, and somewhat pale, but calm andlovely, stood on the threshold, looking straight before her.
They all rose but Kate, and remained mute and staring.
"Be seated, mistress," said Eli, gravely, and motioned to a seat thathad been set apart for her.
She inclined her head, and crossed the apartment; and in so doing hercondition was very visible, not only in her shape, but in her languor.
Cornelis and Sybrandt hated her for it. Richart thought it spoiled herbeauty.
It softened the women somewhat.
She took her letter out of her bosom, and kissed it as if she had beenalone; then disposed herself to read it with the air of one who knew shewas there for that single purpose.
But, as she began, she noticed they had seated her all by herself like aleper. She looked at Denys, and putting her hand down by her side, madehim a swift furtive motion to come by her.
He went with an obedient start as if she had cried "March!" and stood ather shoulder like a sentinel; but this zealous manner of doing itrevealed to the company that he had been ordered thither; and at thatshe coloured. And now she began to read her Gerard, their Gerard, totheir eager ears, in a mellow, but clear voice, so soft, so earnest, sothrilling, her very soul seemed to cling about each precious sound. Itwas a voice as of a woman's bosom set speaking by Heaven itself.
"I do nothing doubt, my Margaret, that long ere this shall meet thybeloved eyes, Denys, my most dear friend, will have sought thee out, andtold thee the manner of our unlooked-for and most tearful parting.Therefore I will e'en begin at that most doleful day. What befell himafter, poor faithful soul, fain, fain would I hear, but may not. But Ipray for him day and night next after thee, dearest. Friend more stanchand loving had not David in Jonathan than I in him. Be good to him forpoor Gerard's sake."
At these words, which came quite unexpectedly to him, Denys leaned hishead on Margaret's high chair, and groaned aloud.
She turned quickly as she sat, and found his hand, and pressed it.
And so the sweetheart and the friend held hands while the sweetheartread.
"I went forward all dizzied, like one in an ill dream; and presently agentleman came up with his servants, all on horseback, and had like tohave rid o'er me. And he drew rein at the brow of the hill, and sent hisarmed men back to rob me. They robbed me civilly enough; and took mypurse and the last copper, and rid gaily away. I wandered stupid on, afriendless pauper."
There was a general sigh, followed by an oath from Denys.
"Presently a strange dimness came o'er me, I lay down to sleep on thesnow. 'Twas ill done, and with store of wolves hard by. Had I loved theeas thou dost deserve, I had shown more manhood. But oh, sweet love, thedrowsiness that did crawl o'er me desolate, and benumb me, was more thannature. And so I slept; and but that God was better to us, than I tothee or to myself, from that sleep I ne'er had waked; so all do say. Ihad slept an hour or two, as I supposed, but no more, when a hand didshake me rudely. I awoke to my troubles. And there stood a servant girlin her holiday suit. 'Are ye mad,' quoth she, in seeming choler, 'tosleep in snow, and under wolves' nosen? Art weary o' life, and not longweaned? Come, now,' said she, more kindly, 'get up like a good lad'; soI did rise up. 'Are ye rich, or are ye poor?' But I stared at her as oneamazed. 'Why 'tis easy of reply,' quoth she. 'Are ye rich, or are yepoor?' Then I gave a great, loud cry; that she did start back. 'Am Irich, or am I poor? Had ye asked me an hour agone, I had said I am rich.But now I am so poor as sure earth beareth on her bosom none poorer. Anhour agone I was rich in a friend, rich in money, rich in hope andspirits of youth; but now the Bastard of Burgundy hath taken my friendand another gentleman my purse; and I can neither go forward to Rome norback to her I left in Holland. I am poorest of the poor.' 'Alack!' saidthe wench. 'Natheless, an ye had been rich ye might ha' lain down againin the snow for any use I had for ye; and then I trow ye had soon faredout o' this world as bare as ye came into 't. But, being poor, you areour man: so come wi' me.' Then I went because she bade me, and because Irecked not now whither I went. And she took me to a fine house hard by,and into a noble dining-hall hung with black: and there was set a tablewith many dishes, and but one plate and one chair. 'Fall to!' said she,in a whisper. 'What, alone?' said I. 'Alone? And which of us, think ye,would eat out of the same dish with ye? Are we robbers o' the dead?'Then she speered where I was born. 'At Tergou,' said I. Says she, 'And,when a gentleman dies in that country, serve they not the dead man'sdinner up as usual, till he be in the ground, and set some poor man downto it?' I told her nay. 'She blushed for us then. Here they were betterChristians.' So I behoved to sit down. But small was my heart for meat.Then this
kind lass sat by me and poured me out wine; and, tasting it,it cut me to the heart Denys was not there to drink with me. He doth solove good wine, and women good, bad, or indifferent. The rich, strongwine curled round my sick heart; and that day first I did seem toglimpse why folk in trouble run to drink so. She made me eat of everydish. ''Twas unlucky to pass one. Nought was here but her master's_daily_ dinner.' 'He had a good stomach, then,' said I. 'Ay, lad, and agood heart. Leastways, so we all say now he is dead; but, being alive,no word on't e'er heard I.' So I did eat as a bird; nibbling of everydish. And she hearing me sigh, and seeing me like to choke at the food,took pity and bade me be of good cheer. I should sup and lie there thatnight. And she went to the hind, and he gave me a right good bed; and Itold him all, and asked him would the law give me back my purse. 'Law!'quoth he; 'law there was none for the poor in Burgundy. Why, 'twas thecousin of the Lady of the Manor, he that had robbed me. He knew the wildspark. The matter must be judged before the lady; and she was quiteyoung, and far more like to hang me for slandering her cousin, and agentleman, and a handsome man, than to make him give me back my own.Inside the liberties of a town a poor man might now and then see theface of justice; but out among the grand seigneurs and dames--never.' SoI said, 'I'll sit down robbed rather than seek justice and findgallows.' They were all most kind to me next day; and the girlproffered me money from her small wage to help me towards Rhine."
"Oh, then, he is coming home! he is coming home!' shouted Denys,interrupting the reader. She shook her head gently at him, by way ofreproof.
"I beg pardon, all the company," said he stiffly.
"'Twas a sore temptation; but, being a servant, my stomach rose againstit. 'Nay, nay,' said I. She told me I was wrong. ''Twas pride out o'place; poor folk should help one another; or who on earth would?' I saidif I could do aught in return 'twere well; but for a free gift, nay: Iwas over much beholden already. Should I write a letter for her? 'Nay,he is in the house at present,' said she. 'Should I draw her picture,and so earn my money? 'What, can ye?' said she. I told her I could try;and her habit would well become a picture. So she was agog to be limned,and give it her lad. And I set her to stand in a good light, and soonmade sketches two, whereof I send thee one, coloured at odd hours. Theother I did most hastily, and with little conscience daub, for which mayHeaven forgive me; but time was short. They, poor things, knew nobetter, and were most proud and joyous; and, both kissing me after theircountry fashion, 'twas the hind that was her sweetheart, they did bid meGod-speed; and I towards Rhine."
Margaret paused here, and gave Denys the coloured drawing to hand round.It was eagerly examined by the females on account of the costume, whichdiffered in some respects from that of a Dutch domestic: the hair was ina tight linen bag, a yellow half kerchief crossed her head from ear toear, but threw out a rectangular point that descended the centre of herforehead, and it met in two more points over her bosom. She wore a redkirtle with long sleeves, kilted very high in front, and showing a greenfarthingale and a great red leather purse hanging down over it; redstockings, yellow leathern shoes, ahead of her age; for they werelow-quartered and square-toed, secured by a strap buckling over theinstep, which was not uncommon, and was perhaps the rude germ of thediamond buckle to come.
Margaret continued:--
"But, oh! how I missed my Denys at every step! often I sat down on theroad and groaned. And in the afternoon it chanced that I did so set medown where two roads met, and with heavy head in hand, and heavy heart,did think of thee, my poor sweetheart, and of my lost friend, and of thelittle house at Tergou, where they all loved me once; though now it isturned to hate."
_Catherine._] "Alas! that he will think so."
_Eli._] "Whist! wife!"
"And I did sigh loud, and often. And me sighing so, one came carollinglike a bird adown t'other road. 'Ay, chirp and chirp,' cried I,bitterly. 'Thou hast not lost sweetheart, and friend, thy father'shearth, thy mother's smile, and every penny in the world.' And at lasthe did so carol, and carol, I jumped up in ire to get away from his mostjarring mirth. But, ere I fled from it, I looked down the path to seewhat could make a man so light hearted in this weary world; and lo! thesongster was a humpbacked cripple, with a bloody bandage o'er his eye,and both legs gone at the knee."
"He! he! he! he! he!" went Sybrandt, laughing and cackling.
Margaret's eyes flashed: she began to fold the letter up.
"Nay, lass," said Eli, "heed him not! Thou unmannerly cur, offer't butagain and I put thee to the door."
"Why, what was there to gibe at, Sybrandt?" remonstrated Catherine, moremildly. "Is not our Kate afflicted? and is she not the most content ofus all, and singeth like a merle at times between her pains? But I am asbad as thou; prithee read on, lass, and stop our gabble wi' somewhatworth the hearkening."
"Then, said I, 'may this thing be?' And I took myself to task. 'Gerard,son of Eli, dost thou well to bemoan thy lot, that hast youth andhealth; and here comes the wreck of nature on crutches, praising God'sgoodness with singing like a mavis?'"
_Catherine._] "There you see."
_Eli._] "Whist, dame, whist!"
"And whenever he saw me, he left carolling and presently hobbled up andchanted, 'Charity, for love of Heaven, sweet master, charity,' with awhine as piteous as wind at keyhole. 'Alack, poor soul,' said I,'charity is in my heart, but not my purse; I am poor as thou.' Then hebelieved me none, and to melt me undid his sleeve, and showed a sorewound on his arm, and said he: 'Poor cripple though I be, I am like tolose this eye to boot, look else.' I saw and groaned for him, and toexcuse myself let him wot how I have been robbed of my last copper.Thereat he left whining all in a moment, and said, in a big manly voice,'Then I'll e'en take a rest. Here, youngster, pull thou this strap:nay, fear not!' I pulled, and down came a stout pair of legs out of hisback; and half his hump had melted away, and the wound in his eye nodeeper than the bandage."
"Oh!" ejaculated Margaret's hearers, in a body.
"Whereat, seeing me astounded, he laughed in my face, and told me I wasnot worth gulling, and offered me his protection. 'My face wasprophetic,' he said. 'Of what?' said I. 'Marry,' said he, 'that itsowner will starve in this thievish land.' Travel teaches e'en the youngwisdom. Time was I had turned and fled this impostor as a pestilence;but now I listened patiently to pick up crumbs of counsel. And well Idid: for nature and his adventurous life had crammed the poor knave withshrewdness and knowledge of the homelier sort--a child was I beside him.When he had turned me inside out, said he, 'Didst well to leave Franceand make for Germany; but think not of Holland again. Nay, on toAugsburg and Nurnberg, the Paradise of craftsmen: thence to Venice, anthou wilt. But thou wilt never bide in Italy nor any other land, havingonce tasted the great German cities. Why there is but one honest countryin Europe, and that is Germany; and since thou art honest, and since Iam a vagabone, Germany was made for us twain.' I bade him make thatgood: how might one country fit true men and knaves? 'Why, thou novice,'said he, 'because in an honest land are fewer knaves to bite the honestman, and many honest men for the knave to bite. I was in luck, beinghonest, to have fallen in with a friendly sharp. Be my pal,' said he. 'Igo to Nurnberg, we will reach it with full pouches. I'll learn ye thecul de bois, and the cul de jatte, and how to maund, and chant, andpatter, and to raise swellings, and paint sores and ulcers on thy bodywould take in the divell.' I told him, shivering, I'd liever die thanshame myself and my folk so."
_Eli._] "Good lad! good lad!"
"Why what shame was it for such as I to turn beggar? Beggary was anancient and most honourable mystery. What did holy monks, and bishops,and kings, when they would win Heaven's smile? why, wash the feet ofbeggars, those favourites of the saints. 'The saints were no fools,' hetold me. Then he did put out his foot. 'Look at that, that was washed bythe greatest king alive, Louis of France, the last holy Thursday thatwas. And the next day, Friday, clapped in the stocks by the warden of apetty hamlet,' So I told him my foot should walk between such highhonour and such low disgrace, on the safe path of
honesty, please God.Well then, since I had not spirit to beg, he would indulge myperversity. I should work under him, he be the head, I the fingers. Andwith that he set himself up like a judge, on a heap of dust by theroad's side, and questioned me strictly what I could do. I began to sayI was strong and willing. 'Bah!' said he, 'so is an ox. Say, what canstdo that Sir Ox cannot?' I could write; I had won a prize for it. 'Canstwrite as fast as the printers?' quo' he, jeering. 'What else?' I couldpaint. 'That was better.' I was like to tear my hair to hear him say so,and me going to Rome to write. I could twang the psaltery a bit. 'Thatwas well. Could I tell stories?' Ay, by the score. 'Then,' said he, 'Ihire you from this moment.' 'What to do?' said I. 'Nought crooked, SirCandour,' says he. 'I will feed thee all the way and find thee work; andtake half thine earnings, no more.' 'Agreed,' said I, and gave my handon it. 'Now, servant,' said he, 'we will dine. But ye need not standbehind my chair, for two reasons, first I ha' got no chair, and, next,good fellowship likes me better than state.' And out of his wallet hebrought flesh, fowl, and pastry, a good dozen of spices lapped in flaxpaper, and wine fit for a king. Ne'er feasted I better than out of thisbeggar's wallet, now my master. When we had well eaten I was for goingon. 'But,' said he, 'servants should not drive their masters too hard,especially after feeding, for then the body is for repose, and the mindturns to contemplation;' and he lay on his back gazing calmly at thesky, and presently wondered whether there were any beggars up there. Itold him I knew but of one; called Lazarus. 'Could he do the cul dejatte better than I?' said he, and looked quite jealous like. I told himnay; Lazarus was honest, though a beggar, and fed daily of the crumbsfal'n from a rich man's table, and the dogs licked his sores. 'Servant,'quo' he, 'I spy a foul fault in thee. Thou liest without discretion: nowthe end of lying being to gull, this is no better than fumbling with thedivell's tail. I pray Heaven thou mayest prove to paint better than thoucuttest whids, or I am done out of a dinner. No beggar eats crumbs, butonly the fat of the land; and dogs lick not a beggar's sores, being madewith spearwort, or ratsbane, or biting acids, from all which dogs, andeven pigs, abhor. My sores are made after my proper receipt; but no dogwould lick e'en them twice. I have made a scurvy bargain: art a cozeningknave. I doubt, as well as a nincompoop.' I deigned no reply to thisbundle of lies, which did accuse heavenly truth of falsehood for notbeing in a tale with him. He rose and we took the road; and presently wecame to a place where were two little wayside inns, scarce a furlongapart. 'Halt,' said my master. 'Their armories are sore faded--all thebetter. Go thou in; shun the master; board the wife; and flatter her innsky high, all but the armories, and offer to colour them dirt cheap.' SoI went in and told the wife I was a painter, and would revive herarmories cheap; but she sent me away with a rebuff. I to my master. Hegroaned. 'Ye are all fingers and no tongue,' said he; 'I have made ascurvy bargain. Come and hear me patter and flatter.' Between the twoinns was a high hedge. He goes behind it a minute and comes out a decenttradesman. We went on to the other inn, and then I heard him praise itso fulsome as the very wife did blush. 'But,' says he, 'there is onelittle, little fault; your armories are dull and faded. Say but theword, and for a silver franc my apprentice here, the cunningest e'er Ihad, shall make them bright as ever.' Whilst she hesitated, the roguetold her he had done it to a little inn hard by, and now the inn's facewas like the starry firmament. "D'ye hear that, my man?' cries she, 'TheThree Frogs' have been and painted up their armories: shall 'The FourHedgehogs' be outshone by them?" So I painted, and my master stood bylike a lord, advising me how to do, and winking to me to heed him none,and I got a silver franc. And he took me back to 'The Three Frogs,' andon the way put me on a beard and disguised me, and flattered 'The ThreeFrogs,' and told them how he had adorned 'The Four Hedgehogs,' and intothe net jumped the three poor simple frogs, and I earned another silverfranc. Then we went on and he found his crutches, and sent me forward,and showed his 'cicatrices d'emprunt,' as he called them, and all hisinfirmities, at 'The Four Hedgehogs,' and got both food and money.'Come, share and share,' quoth he: so I gave him one franc. 'I have madea good bargain,' said he. 'Art a master limner, but takest too muchtime.' So I let him know that in matters of honest craft things couldnot be done quick and well. 'Then do them quick,' quoth he. And he toldme my name was Bon Bec; and I might call him Cul de Jatte, because thatwas his lay at our first meeting. And at the next town my master, Culde Jatte, bought me a psaltery, and sat himself up again by the roadsidein state like him that erst judged Marsyas and Apollo, piping for vainglory. So I played a strain. 'Indifferent well, harmonious Bon Bec,'said he, haughtily. 'Now tune thy pipes.' So I did sing a sweet strainthe good monks taught me; and singing it reminded poor Bon Bec, Gerarderst, of his young days and home, and brought the water to mine een.But, looking up, my master's visage was as the face of a little boywhipt soundly, or sipping foulest medicine. 'Zounds, stop thatbelly-ache blether,' quoth he, 'that will ne'er wile a stiver out o'peasants' purses; 'twill but sour the nurses' milk, and gar the kinejump into rivers to be out of earshot on't. What, false knave, did I buythee a fire new psaltery to be minded o' my latter end withal? Hearken!these be the songs that glad the heart, and fill the minstrel's purse.'And he sung so blasphemous a stave, and eke so obscene, as I drew awayfrom him a space that the lightning might not spoil the new psaltery.However, none came, being winter, and then I said, 'Master, the Lord isdebonair. Held I the thunder yon ribaldry had been thy last, thou foulmouthed wretch.'
"'Why, Bon Bec, what is to do?' quoth he. 'I have made an ill bargain.Oh, perverse heart, that turneth from doctrine.' So I bade him keep hisbreath to cool his broth, ne'er would I shame my folk with singingribald songs. 'Then,' says he, sulkily, 'the first fire we light by theway side, clap thou on the music-box! so 'twill make our pot boil forthe nonce; but with your
Good people, let us peak and pine, Cut tristful mugs, and miaul and whine Thorough our nosen chaunts divine
never, never, never. Ye might as well go through Lorraine crying,Mulleygrubs, Mulleygrubs, who'll buy my Mulleygrubs?' So we fared on,bad friends. But I took a thought, and prayed him hum me one of hisnaughty ditties again. Then he brightened, and broke forth into ribaldrylike a nightingale. Finger in ears stuffed I. 'No words; nought but thebare melody.' For oh, Margaret, note the sly malice of the Evil One!Still to the scurviest matter he weddeth the tunablest ditties."
_Catherine._] "That is true as Holy Writ."
_Sybrandt._] "How know you that, mother?"
_Cornelis._] "He! he! he!"
_Eli._] "Whisht, ye uneasy wights, and let me hear the boy. He is wiserthan ye; wiser than his years."
"'What tomfoolery is this?' said he; yet he yielded to me, and soon Igarnered three of his melodies; but I would not let Cul de Jatte wot thething I meditated. 'Show not fools nor bairns unfinished work,' saiththe byword. And by this time 'twas night, and a little town at hand,where we went each to his inn; for my master would not yield to put offhis rags and other sores till morning; nor I to enter an inn with atatterdemalion. So we were to meet on the road at peep of day. And,indeed, we still lodged apart, meeting at morn and parting at eve,outside each town we lay at. And waking at midnight and cogitating, goodthoughts came down to me, and sudden my heart was enlightened. I calledto mind that my Margaret had withstood the taking of the burgomaster'spurse. ''Tis theft,' said you; 'disguise it how ye will.' But I must bewiser than my betters: and now that which I had as good as stolen,others had stolen from me. As it came so it was gone. Then I said,'Heaven is not cruel, but just;' and I vowed a vow, to repay ourburgomaster every shilling an I could. And I went forth in the morningsad, but hopeful. I felt lighter for the purse being gone. My master wasat the gate becrutched. I told him I'd liever have seen him in anotherdisguise. 'Beggars must not be choosers,' said he. However, soon he bademe untruss him, for he felt sadly. His head swam. I told him, forcefullyto deform nature thus could scarce be wholesome. He answered none; butlooked scared, and hand on head. By-and-by he gave a groan, and rolledon the ground like a ball, and wri
thed sore. I was scared, and wist notwhat to do, but went to lift him; but his trouble rose higher andhigher, he gnashed his teeth fearfully, and the foam did fly from hislips; and presently his body bended itself like a bow, and jerked andbounded many times into the air. I exorcised him; it but made him worse.There was water in a ditch hard by, not very clear; but, the poorcreature struggling between life and death, I filled my hat withal, andcame flying to souse him. Then my lord laughed in my face. 'Come, BonBec, by thy white gills, I have not forgotten my trade.' I stood withwatery hat in hand, glaring. 'Could this be feigning?' 'What else?' saidhe. 'Why, a real fit is the sorriest thing; but a stroke with a feathercompared with mine. Art still betters nature.' 'But look, e'en now bloodtrickleth from your nose,' said I. 'Ay, ay, pricked my nostrils with astraw.' 'But ye foamed at the lips.' 'Oh, a little soap makes a micklefoam.' And he drew out a morsel like a bean from his mouth. 'Thank thystars, Bon Bec,' says he, 'for leading thee to a worthy master. Each dayhis lesson. To-morrow we will study the cul de bois and other branches.To-day, own me prince of demoniacs, and indeed of all good fellows.'Then, being puffed up, he forgot yesterday's grudge, and discoursed mefreely of beggars; and gave me, who eftsoons thought a beggar was abeggar, and there an end, the names and qualities of full thirty sortsof masterful and crafty mendicants in France and Germany, and England;his three provinces; for so the poor, proud knave yclept those kingdomsthree; wherein his throne it was the stocks I ween. And outside the nextvillage one had gone to dinner, and left his wheel-barrow. So says he,'I'll tie myself in a knot, and shalt wheel me through; and what with mycrippledom and thy piety, a-wheeling of thy poor old dad, we'll bleedthe bumpkins of a dacha-saltee.' I did refuse. I would work for him; butno hand would have in begging. 'And wheeling an "asker" in a barrow, isnot that work?' said he; 'then fling yon muckle stone in to boot: stay,I'll soil it a bit, and swear it is a chip of the holy sepulchre; andyou wheeled us both from Jerusalem.' Said I, 'Wheeling a pair o' lies,one stony, one fleshly, may be work, and hard work, but honest work 'tisnot. 'Tis fumbling with his tail you wot of. And,' said I, 'master, nexttime you go to tempt me to knavery, speak not to me of my poor old dad.'Said I, 'you have minded me of my real father's face, the truest man inHolland. He and I are ill friends now, worse luck. But though I offendhim, shame him I never will.' Dear Margaret, with this knave saying,'your poor old dad,' it had gone to my heart like a knife. ''Tis well,'said my master, gloomily; 'I have made a bad bargain.' Presently hehalts, and eyes a tree by the wayside. 'Go spell me what is writ on yontree.' So I went, and there was nought but a long square drawn inoutline. I told him so. 'So much for thy monkish lore,' quoth he. Alittle farther, and he sent me to read a wall. There was nought but acircle scratched on the stone with a point of nail or knife, and in thecircle two dots. I said so. Then said he, 'Bon Bec, that square was awarning. Some good Truand left it, that came through this villagefaring west; that means "dangerous." The circle with the two dots waswrit by another of our brotherhood; and it signifies as how the writer,soit Rollin Trapu, soit Triboulet, soit Catin Cul de Bois, or what not,was _becked_ for _asking_ here, and lay two months in Starabin.' Then hebroke forth, 'Talk of your little snivelling books that go in pouch.Three books have I, France, England, and Germany; and they are writ allover in one tongue, that my brethren of all countries understand; andthat is what I call learning. So sith here they whip sores, and imprisoninfirmities, I to my tiring room.' And he popped behind the hedge, andcame back worshipful. We passed through the village, and I sat me downon the stocks, and even as the barber's apprentice whets his razor on ablock, so did I flesh my psaltery on this village, fearing great cities.I tuned it, and coursed up and down the wires nimbly with my two woodenstrikers; and then chanted loud and clear, as I had heard the minstrelsof the country,
'QUI VEUT OUIR QUI VEUT SAVOIR,'
some trash, I mind not what. And soon the villagers, male and female,thronged about me; thereat I left singing, and recited them to thepsaltery a short but right merry tale out of 'the lives of the saints,'which it is my handbook of pleasant figments: and this ended, instantlystruck up and whistled one of Cul de Jatte's devil's ditties, and playedit on the psaltery to boot. Thou knowest Heaven hath bestowed on me arare whistle, both for compass and tune. And with me whistling brightand full this sprightly air, and making the wires slow when the tune didgallop, and tripping when the tune did amble, or I did stop and shake onone note like a lark i' the air, they were like to eat me; but lookinground, lo! my master had given way to his itch, and there was his hat onthe ground, and copper pouring in. I deemed it cruel to whistle thebread out of poverty's pouch; so broke off and away; yet could not getclear so swift, but both men and women did slobber me sore, and smelledall of garlic. 'There, master,' said I, 'I call that cleaving the divellin twain and keeping his white half.' Said he, 'Bon Bec, I have made agood bargain.' Then he bade me stay where I was while he went to theHoly Land. I stayed, and he leaped the churchyard dike, and the sextonwas digging a grave, and my master chaffered with him, and came backwith a knuckle bone. But, why he clept a churchyard Holy Land, that Ilearned not then, but after dinner. I was colouring the armories of alittle inn; and he sat by me most peaceable, a cutting, and filing, andpolishing bones, sedately; so I speered was not honest work sweet? 'Asrain water,' said he, mocking. 'What was he a making?' 'A pair of bonesto play on with thee; and with the refuse a St. Anthony's thumb and aSt. Martin's little finger, for the devout.' The vagabone! And now,sweet Margaret, thou seest our manner of life faring Rhineward. I withthe two arts I had least prized or counted on for bread was welcomeeverywhere; too poor now to fear robbers, yet able to keep both masterand man on the road. For at night I often made a portraiture of theinnkeeper or his dame, and so went richer from an inn; the which it isthe lot of few. But my master despised this even way of life. 'I loveups and downs,' said he. And certes he lacked them not. One day he wouldgather more than I in three; another, to hear his tale, it had rainedkicks all day in lieu of 'saltees,' and that is pennies. Yet even thenat heart he despised me for a poor, mechanical soul, and scorned myarts, extolling his own, the art of feigning.
"Natheless, at odd times was he ill at his ease. Going through the townof Aix, we came upon a beggar walking, fast by one hand to a cart-tail,and the hangman a lashing his bare bloody back. He, stout knave, sowhipt, did not a jot relent; but I did wince at every stroke; and mymaster hung his head.
"'Soon or late, Bon Bec,' quoth he. 'Soon or late.' I seeing his haggardface knew what he meaned. And at a town whose name hath slipped me, but'twas on a fair river, as we came to the foot of the bridge, he haltedand shuddered. 'Why, what is the coil,' said I? 'Oh, blind,' said he,'they are justifying there.' So nought would serve him but take a boat,and cross the river by water. But 'twas out of the frying-pan, as theword goeth. For the boatmen had scarce told us the matter, and that itwas a man and a woman for stealing glazed windows out of housen, andthat the man was hanged at daybreak, and the quean to be drowned, whenlo; they did fling her off the bridge, and fell in the water not farfrom us. And oh! Margaret, the deadly splash! It ringeth in mine earseven now. But worse was coming; for, though tied, she came up and cried'help help!' and I, forgetting all, and hearing a woman's voice cry'help!' was for leaping in to save her, and had surely done it, but theboatmen and Cul de Jatte clung round me, and in a moment the bourreau'sman, that waited in a boat, came and entangled his hooked pole in herlong hair, and so thrust her down and ended her. Oh! if the saintsanswered so our cries for help! And poor Cul de Jatte groaned, and I satsobbing and beat my breast and cried, 'Of what hath God made men'shearts?'"
The reader stopped, and the tears trickled down her cheeks. Gerardcrying in Lorraine made her cry at Rotterdam. The leagues were no moreto her heart than the breadth of a room.
Eli, softened by many touches in the letter, and by the reader's womanlygraces, said kindly enough, "Take thy time, lass. And methinks some ofye might find her a creepie to rest her foot, and she so near her owntrouble."
"
I'd do more for her than that an I durst," said Catherine. "Here,Cornelis," and she held out her little wooden stool, and that worthy,who hated Margaret worse than ever, had to take the creepie and put itcarefully under her foot.
"You are very kind, dame," she faltered. "I will read on; 'tis all I cando for you in turn."
"Thus seeing my master ashy and sore shaken, I deemed this horribletragic act came timeously to warn him, so I strove sore to turn him fromhis ill ways, discoursing of sinners and their lethal end. 'Too late!'said he, 'too late!' and gnashed his teeth. Then I told him 'too late'was the divell's favourite whisper in repentant ears. Said I--
"'The Lord is debonair, Let sinners nought despair.'
'Too late!' said he, and gnashed his teeth, and writhed his face, asthough vipers were biting his inward parts. But, dear heart, his was amind like running water. Ere we cleared the town he was carolling, andoutside the gate hung the other culprit from the bough of a little tree,and scarce a yard above the ground. And that stayed my vagabone's music.But, ere we had gone another furlong, he feigned to have dropped hisrosary, and ran back, with no good intent, as you shall hear. I strolledon very slowly, and often halting, and presently he came stumping up onone leg, and that bandaged. I asked him how he could contrive that, for'twas masterly done. 'Oh, that was his mystery. Would I know that Imust join the brotherhood.' And presently we did pass a narrow lane, andat the mouth on't espied a written stone, telling beggars by a word likea wee pitchfork to go that way. ''Tis yon farm-house,' said he: 'bidethou at hand.' And he went to the house, and came back with money, food,and wine. 'This lad did the business,' said he, slapping his one legproudly. Then he undid the bandage, and with prideful face showed me ahole in his calf you could have put your neef in. Had I been strange tohis tricks, here was a leg had drawn my last penny. Presently anotherfarm-house by the road. He made for it. I stood and asked myself shouldI run away and leave him, not to be shamed in my own despite by him?But, while I doubted, there was a great noise, and my master wellcudgelled by the farmer and his men, and came towards me hobbling andholloaing; for the peasants had layed on heartily. But more trouble wasat his heels. Some mischievous wight loosed a dog as big as a jackasscolt, and came roaring after him, and downed him momently. I deeming thepoor rogue's death certain, and him least fit to die, drew my sword andran shouting. But, ere I could come near, the muckle dog had torn awayhis bad leg, and ran growling to his lair with it; and Cul de Jatteslipped his knot, and came running like a lapwing, with his hair on end,and so striking with both crutches before and behind at unreal dogs as'twas like a windmill crazed. He fled adown the road. I followedleisurely, and found him at dinner. 'Curse the quiens,' said he. And nota word all dinner-time but 'curse the quiens!'
"I said I must know who they were before I would curse them.
"'Quiens? why that was dogs. And I knew not even that much? He had madea bad bargain.' 'Well, well,' said he; 'to-morrow we shall be inGermany. There the folk are music-bitten, and they molest not beggars,unless they fake to boot, and then they drown us out of hand thatmoment, curse 'em!' We came to Strasburgh. And I looked down Rhine withlonging heart. The stream how swift! It seemed running to clipSevenbergen to its soft bosom. With but a piece of timber and an oar, Imight drift at my ease to thee, sleeping yet gliding still. 'Twas a soretemptation. But the fear of an ill welcome from my folk, and of theneighbours' sneers, and the hope of coming back to thee victorious, not,as now I must, defeated and shamed, and thee with me, it did withholdme; and so, with many sighs, and often turning of the head to look onbeloved Rhine, I turned sorrowful face and heavy heart towardsAugsburg."
"Alas, dame, alas. Good master Eli, forgive me! But I ne'er can win overthis part all at one time. It taketh my breath away. Well-a-day! Why didhe not listen to his heart? Had he not gone through peril enow, sorrowenow? Well-a-day! well-a-day!"
The letter dropped from her hand, and she drooped like a wounded lily.
Then there was a clatter on the floor, and it was little Kate going onher crutches, with flushed face, and eyes full of pity, to console her."Water, mother," she cried. "I am afeard she shall swoon."
"Nay, nay, fear me not," said Margaret, feebly. "I will not be sotroublesome. Thy good will it maketh me stouter hearted, sweet mistressKate. For, if thou carest how I fare, sure Heaven is not against me."
_Catherine._] "D'ye hear that, my man?"
_Eli._] "Ay, wife, I hear; and mark to boot."
Little Kate went back to her place, and Margaret read on. "The Germansare fonder of armorials than the French. So I found work every day. And,whiles I wrought, my master would leave me, and doff his raiment and donhis rags, and other infirmities, and cozen the world, which he did clepeit 'plucking of the goose:' this done, would meet me and demand half myearnings; and with restless piercing eye ask me would I be so base ascheat my poor master by making three parts in lieu of two, till Ithreatened to lend him a cuff to boot in requital of his suspicion; andthenceforth took his due, with feigned confidence in my good faith, thewhich his dancing eye belied. Early in Germany we had a quarrel. I hadseen him buy a skull of a jailer's wife, and mighty zealous a polishingit. Thought I, 'How can he carry yon memento, and not repent, seeingwhere ends his way?' Presently I did catch him selling it to a woman forthe head of St. Barnabas, with a tale had cozened an Ebrew. So Isnatched it out of their hands, and trundled it into the ditch. 'How,thou impious knave,' said I, 'wouldst sell for a saint the skull of somedead thief, thy brother.' He slunk away. But shallow she did crawl afterthe skull, and with apron reverently dust it for Barnabas, and itBarabbas; and so home with it. Said I, 'non vult anser velli, sedpopulus vult decipi.'"
_Catherine._] "Oh, the goodly Latin!"
_Eli._] "What meaneth it?"
_Catherine._] "Nay, I know not; but 'tis Latin: is not that enow? He wasthe flower of the flock."
* * * * *
"Then I to him, 'Take now thy psaltery, and part we here, for art awalking prison, a walking hell.' But lo! my master fell on his knees,and begged me for pity's sake not turn him off. 'What would become ofhim? He did so love honesty.' 'Thou love honesty?' said I. 'Ay,' saidhe, 'not to enact it; the saints forbid. But to look on. 'Tis so fair athing to look on. Alas, good Bon Bec,' said he; 'hadst starvedperadventure but for me. Kick not down thy ladder! Call ye that just?Nay, calm thy choler! Have pity on me! I must have a pal: and how couldI bear one like myself after one so simple as thou? He might cut mythroat for the money that is hid in my belt. 'Tis not much; 'tis notmuch. With thee I walk at mine ease; with a sharp I dare not go beforein a narrow way. Alas! forgive me. Now I know where in thy bonnet lurksthe bee, I will ware his sting; I will but pluck the secular goose.' 'Sobe it,' said I. 'And example was contagious: he should be a true man bythen we reached Nurnberg. 'Twas a long way to Nurnberg.' Seeing him sohumble, I said, 'Well, doff rags, and make thyself decent; 'twill helpme forget what thou art.' And he did so; and we sat down to ournonemete. Presently came by a reverend palmer with hat stuck round withcockle shells from Holy Land, and great rosary of beads like eggs ofteal, and sandals for shoes. And he leaned aweary on his long staff, andoffered us a shell apiece. My master would none. But I to set him abetter example, took one, and for it gave the poor pilgrim two batzen,and had his blessing. And he was scarce gone, when we heard savagecries, and came a sorry sight, one leading a wild woman in a chain, allrags, and howling like a wolf. And when they came nigh us, she fell totearing her rags to threads. The man sought an alms of us, and told ushis hard case. 'Twas his wife, stark raving mad; and he could not workin the fields, and leave her in his house to fire it, nor cure her couldhe without the Saintys help, and had vowed six pounds of wax to St.Anthony to heal her, and so was fain beg of charitable folk for themoney. And now she espied us, and flew at me with her long nails, and Iwas cold with fear, so devilish showed her face and rolling eyes andnails like birdys talons. But he with the chain checked her sudden, andwith his whip did cruelly lash her for it, that I cried 'F
orbear!forbear! She knoweth not what she doth;' and gave him a batz. And beinggone, said I, 'Master of those twain I know not which is the morepitiable.' And he laughed in my face. 'Behold thy justice, Bon Bec,'said he. 'Thou railest on thy poor, good, within-an-ace-of-honest,master, and bestowest alms on a "vopper."' 'Vopper,' said I; 'what is avopper? 'Why a trull that feigns madness. That was one of us, that shammaniac, and wow but she did it clumsily. I blushed for her and thee.Also gavest two batzen for a shell from Holy Land, that came no fartherthan Normandy. I have culled them myself on that coast by scores, andsold them to pilgrims true and pilgrims false, to gull flats like theewithal.' 'What!' said I; 'that reverend man?' 'One of us!' cried Cul deJatte; 'one of us! In France we call them "Coquillarts," but here"Calmierers." Railest on me for selling a false relic now and then, andwastest thy earnings on such as sell nought else. I tell thee, Bon Bec,'said he, 'there is not one true relic on earth's face. The saints died athousand years agone, and their bones mixed with the dust; but the tradein relics, it is of yesterday; and there are forty thousand tramps inEurope live by it; selling relics of forty or fifty bodies; oh,threadbare lie! And of the true Cross enow to build Cologne Minster. Whythen may not poor Cul de Jatte turn his penny with the crowd? Art but ascurvy tyrannical servant to let thy poor master from his share of theswag with your whorson pilgrims, palmers, and friars, black, grey, andcrutched; for all these are of our brotherhood, and of our art, onlymasters they, and we but poor apprentices, in guile.' For his tongue wasan ell and a half.
"'A truce to thy irreverend sophistries,' said I, 'and say what companyis this a-coming.' 'Bohemians,' cried he. 'Ay, ay, this shall be therest of the band.' With that came along so motley a crew as never youreyes beheld, dear Margaret. Marched at their head one with a banner on asteel-pointed lance, and girded with a great long sword, and in velvetdoublet and leathern jerkin, the which stuffs ne'er saw I wedded aforeon mortal flesh, and a gay feather in his lordly cap, and a couple ofdead fowls at his back, the which, an the spark had come by honestly, Iam much mistook. Him followed wives and babes on two lean horses, whoseflanks still rattled like parchment drum, being beaten by kettles andcaldrons. Next an armed man a-riding of a horse, which drew a cart fullof females and children: and in it, sitting backwards, a lusty lazyknave, lance in hand, with his luxurious feet raised on a holy waterpail, that lay along, and therein a cat, new kittened, sat glowing o'erher brood, and sparks for eyes. And the cart-horse cavalier had on hisshoulders a round bundle, and thereon did perch a cock and crowed withzeal, poor ruffler, proud of his brave feathers as the rest, and haplywith more reason, being his own. And on an ass another wife and new-bornchild; and one poor quean a-foot scarce dragged herself along, so nearher time was she, yet held two little ones by the hand, and helplesslyhelped them on the road. And the little folk were just a farce; somerode sticks, with horses' heads, between their legs, which pranced andcaracoled, and soon wearied the riders so sore, they stood stock stilland wept, which cavaliers were presently taken into cart and cuffed. Andone more grave, lost in a man's hat and feather, walked in Egyptiandarkness, handed by a girl; another had the great saucepan on his back,and a tremendous three-footed clay pot sat on his head and shoulders,swallowing him so as he too went darkling led by his sweetheart threefoot high. When they were gone by, and we had both laughed lustily, saidI, 'Natheless, master, my bowels they yearn for one of that tawdry band,even for the poor wife so near the down-lying, scarce able to dragherself, yet still, poor soul, helping the weaker on the way.'"
* * * * *
_Catherine._] "Nay, nay, Margaret. Why, wench, pluck up heart. Certesthou art no Bohemian."
_Kate._] "Nay, mother, 'tis not that, I trow, but her father. And, dearheart, why take notice to put her to the blush?"
_Richart._] "So I say."
"And he derided me. 'Why that is a "biltreger,"' said he, 'and you wasteyour bowels on a pillow, or so forth.' I told him he lied. 'Time wouldshow,' said he, 'wait till they camp.' And rising after meat andmeditation, and travelling forward, we found them camped between twogreat trees on a common by the wayside; and they had lighted a greatfire, and on it was their caldron; and, one of the trees slanting o'erthe fire, a kid hung down by a chain from the tree-fork to the fire, andin the fork was wedged an urchin turning still the chain to keep themeat from burning, and a gay spark with a feather in his cap cut up asheep; and another had spitted a leg of it on a wooden stake; and awoman ended chanticleer's pride with wringing of his neck. And under theother tree four ruffers played at cards and quarrelled, and no word sansoath; and of these lewd gamblers one had cockles in his hat, and was myreverend pilgrim. And a female, young and comely, and dressed like abutterfly, sat and mended a heap of dirty rags. And Cul de Jatte said,'Yon is the "vopper," 'and I looked incredulous and looked again, and itwas so, and at her feet sat he that had so late lashed her; but I weenhe had wist where to strike, or woe betide him; and she did now oppresshim sore, and made him thread her very needle, the which he did with allhumility; so was their comedy turned seamy side without: and Cul deJatte told me 'twas still so with 'voppers' and their men in camp; theywould don their bravery though but for an hour, and, with their tinsel,empire, and the man durst not the least gainsay the 'vopper,' or shewould turn him off at these times, as I my master, and take anothertyrant more submissive. And my master chuckled over me. Natheless wesoon espied a wife set with her back against the tree, and her hairdown, and her face white, and by her side a wench held up to her eye anew-born babe, with words of cheer, and the rough fellow, her husband,did bring her hot wine in a cup, and bade her take courage. And, justo'er the place she sat, they had pinned from bough to bough of thoseneighbouring trees two shawls, and blankets two, together, to keep thedrizzle off her. And so had another poor little rogue come into theworld: and by her own particular folk tended gipsywise, but of theroasters, and boilers, and voppers, and gamblers, no more noticed, nonot for a single moment, than sheep which droppeth her lamb in a field,by travellers upon the way. Then said I, 'What of thy foul suspicions,master? over-knavery blinds the eye as well as over-simplicity.' And helaughed and said, 'Triumph, Bon Bec, triumph. The chances were nine inten against thee.' Then I did pity her, to be in a crowd at such a time;but he rebuked me. 'I should pity rather your queens and royalduchesses, which by law are condemned to groan in a crowd of nobles andcourtiers, and do writhe with shame as well as sorrow, being come ofdecent mothers, whereas these gipsy women have no more shame under theirskins than a wolf ruth, or a hare valour. And, Bon Bec,' quoth he, 'Iespy in thee a lamentable fault. Wastest thy bowels. Wilt have none leftfor thy poor good master which doeth thy will by night and day.' Thenwe came forward; and he talked with the men in some strange Hebrew cantwhereof no word knew I; and the poor knaves bade us welcome and deniedus nought. With them, and all they had, 'twas lightly come and lightlygo; and when we left them my master said to me, 'This is thy firstlesson, but to-night we shall lie at Hansburgh. Come with me to the"rotboss" there, and I'll show thee all our folk and their lays, andespecially "the lossners," "the dutzers," "the schleppers," "thegickisses," "the schwanfelders," whom in England we call "shiveringJemmies," "the suentvegers," "the schwiegers," "the joners," "thesessel-degers," "the gensscherers," in France "marcandiers or rifodes,""the veranerins," "the stabulers," with a few foreigners like ourselves,such as "pietres," "francmitoux," "polissons," "malingreux," "traters,""rufflers," "whipjalks," "dommerars," "glymmerars," "jarkmen,""patricos," "swadders," "autem morts," "walking morts,"'--'Enow,' criedI, stopping him, 'art as gleesome as the Evil one a counting of hisimps. I'll jot down in my tablet all these caitiffs and their accursednames, for knowledge is knowledge. But go among them, alive or dead,that will I not with my good will. Moreover,' said I, 'what need? sinceI have a companion in thee who is all the knaves on earth in one?' andthought to abash him; but his face shone with pride, and hand on breasthe did bow low to me. 'If thy wit be scant, good Bon Bec, thy mannersare a charm. I have made a good bargain.' So he to th
e 'rotboss,' and Ito a decent inn, and sketched the landlord's daughter by candle-light,and started at morn batzen three the richer, but could not find mymaster, so loitered slowly on, and presently met him coming west for me,and cursing the quiens. Why so? Because he could blind the culls but notthe quiens. At last I prevailed on him to leave cursing and canting, andtell me his adventure. Said he, 'I sat outside the gate of yonmonastery, full of sores, which I showed the passers-by. Oh, Bon Bec,beautifuller sores you never saw: and it rained coppers in my hat.Presently the monks came home from some procession, and the convent dogsran out to meet them, curse the quiens!' 'What, did they fall on theeand bite thee, poor soul?' 'Worse, worse, dear Bon Bec. Had they bittenme I had earned silver. But the great idiots, being, as I think,puppies, or little better, fell on me where I sat, downed me, and fell alicking my sores among them. As thou, false knave, didst swear thewhelps in heaven licked the sores of Lazybones, a beggar of old.' 'Nay,nay,' said I, 'I said no such thing. But tell me, since they bit theenot, but sportfully licked thee, what harm?' 'What harm, noodle, why thesores came off.' 'How could that be?' 'How could aught else be? and themjust fresh put on. Did I think he was so weak as bite holes in his fleshwith ratsbane? Nay, he was an artist, a painter like his servant, andhad put on sores made of pig's blood, rye meal, and glue. So when thefolk saw my sores go on tongues of puppies, they laughed, and I saw cordor sack before me. So up I jumped, and shouted, "a miracle! a miracle!The very dogs of this holy convent be holy, and have cured me. Goodfathers," cried I, "whose day is this?" "St. Isidore's," said one. "St.Isidore," cried I, in a sort of rapture. "Why, St. Isidore is my patronsaint: so that accounts." And the simple folk swallowed my miracle asthose accursed quiens my wounds. But the monks took me inside and shutthe gate, and put their heads together; but I have a quick ear, and onedid say "caret miraculo monasterium," which is Greek patter I trow,leastways it is no beggar's cant. Finally they bade the lay-brethrengive me a hiding, and take me out a back way and put me on the road, andthreatened me did I come back to the town to hand me to the magistrateand have me drowned for a plain impostor. "Profit now by the Church'sgrace," said they, "and mend thy ways." So forward, Bon Bec, for my lifeis not sure nigh hand this town.' As he went he worked his shoulders,'Wow but the brethren laid on. And what means yon piece of monk's cant,I wonder?' So I told him the words meant 'the monastery is in want of amiracle,' but the application thereof was dark to me. 'Dark,' cried he,'dark as noon. Why it means they are going to work the miracle, mymiracle, and gather all the grain I sowed. Therefore these blows ontheir benefactor's shoulders; therefore is he that wrought their scurvymiracle driven forth with stripes and threats. Oh, cozening knaves!'Said I, 'becomes you to complain of guile.' 'Alas, Bon Bec,' said he, 'Ibut outwit the simple; but these monks would pluck Lucifer of his wingfeathers.' And went a league bemoaning himself that he was notconvent-bred like his servant. 'He would put it to more profit;' andrailing on quiens. 'And as for those monks, there was one Above.''Certes,' said I, 'there is one Above. What then?' 'Who will call thoseshavelings to compt, one day,' quoth he. 'And all deceitful men,' saidI. At one that afternoon I got armories to paint: so my master took theyellow jaundice and went begging through the town, and with his oilytongue, and saffron-water face, did fill his hat. Now in all the townsare certain licensed beggars, and one of these was an old favourite withthe townsfolk: had his station at St. Martin's porch, the greatestchurch: a blind man: they called him blind Hans. He saw my masterdrawing coppers on the other side of the street, and knew him by histricks for an impostor, so sent and warned the constables, and I met mymaster in the constables' hands, and going to his trial in the townhall. I followed and many more; and he was none abashed, neither by thepomp of justice, nor memory of his misdeeds, but demanded his accuserlike a trumpet. And blind Hans's boy came forward, but was siftednarrowly by my master, and stammered, and faltered, and owned he hadseen nothing, but only carried blind Hans's tale to the chief constable.'This is but hearsay,' said my master. 'Lo ye now, here standethMisfortune backbit by Envy. But stand thou forth, blind Envy, and ventthine own lie.' And blind Hans behoved to stand forth, sore against hiswill. Him did my master so press with questions, and so pinch andtorture, asking him again and again, how, being blind, he could see allthat befell, and some that befell not, across a way; and why, an hecould not see, he came there holding up his perjured hand, and maligningthe misfortunate, that at last he groaned aloud and would utter no wordmore. And an alderman said, 'In sooth, Hans, ye are to blame: hast castmore dirt of suspicion on thyself than on him." But the burgomaster, awondrous fat man, and methinks of his fat some had gotten into his head,checked him and said, 'Nay, Hans we know this many years, and, be heblind or not, he hath passed for blind so long, 'tis all one. Back tothy porch, good Hans, and let the strange varlet leave the townincontinent on pain of whipping.' Then my master winked to me; but thererose a civic officer in his gown of state and golden chain, a Dignitywith us lightly prized, and even shunned of some, but in Germany andFrance much courted, save by condemned malefactors; to wit the hangman;and says he, 'An't please you, first let us see why he weareth his hairso thick and low.' And his man went and lifted Cul de Jatte's hair, andlo the upper gristle of both ears was gone. 'How is this, knave?' quoththe burgomaster. My master said, carelessly, he minded not precisely:his had been a life of misfortunes and losses. 'When a poor soul haslost use of his leg, noble sirs, these more trivial woes rest lightly inhis memory.' When he found this would not serve his turn, he named twofamous battles, in each of which he had lost half an ear, a fightinglike a true man against traitors and rebels. But the hangman showed themthe two cuts were made at one time, and by measurement. ''Tis nobungling soldier's work, my masters,' said he, ''tis ourn.' Then theburgomaster gave judgment: 'The present charge is not proven againstthee; but, an thou beest not guilty now, thou hast been at other times,witness thine ears. Wherefore I send thee to prison for one month, andto give a florin towards the new hall of the guilds now a building, andto be whipt out of the town, and pay the hangman's fee for the same.'And all the aldermen approved, and my master was haled to prison withone look of anguish. It did strike my bosom. I tried to get speech ofhim, but the jailer denied me. But lingering near the jail I heard awhistle, and there was Cul de Jatte at a narrow window twenty feet fromearth. I went under, and he asked me what made I there? I told him I wasloth to go forward and not bid him farewell. He seemed quite amazed; butsoon his suspicious soul got the better. That was not all mine errand. Itold him not all: the psaltery: 'Well, what of that?' 'Twas not mine,but his; I would pay him the price of it. 'Then throw me a rix dollar,'said he. I counted out my coins, and they came to a rix dollar and twobatzen. I threw him up his money in three throws, and when he had got itall he said, softly, 'Bon Bec.' 'Master,' said I. Then the poor roguewas greatly moved. 'I thought ye had been mocking me,' said he; 'oh, BonBec, Bon Bec, if I had found the world like thee at starting I had putmy wit to better use, and I had not lain here.' Then he whimpered out,'I gave not quite a rix dollar for the jingler;' and threw me back thathe had gone to cheat me of; honest for once, and over late; and so, withmany sighs, bade me Godspeed. Thus did my master, after often bafflingmen's justice, fall by their injustice; for his lost ears proved not hisguilt only, but of that guilt the bitter punishment: so the account waseven; yet they for his chastisement did chastise him. Natheless he was aparlous rogue. Yet he holp to make a man of me. Thanks to his good wit Iwent forward richer far with my psaltery and brush, than with yon asgood as stolen purse; for that must have run dry in time, like a bigtrough, but these a little fountain."
_Richart._] "How pregnant his reflections be; and but a curly pated ladwhen last I saw him. Asking your pardon, mistress. Prithee read on."
"One day I walked alone, and, sooth to say, light hearted, for minehonest Denys sweetened the air on the way; but poor Cul de Jattepoisoned it. The next day, passing a grand house, out came on prancingsteeds a gentleman in brave attire and two servants; they overtook me.The gentleman b
ade me halt. I laughed in my sleeve; for a few batzenwere all my store. He bade me doff my doublet and jerkin. Then Ichuckled no more. 'Bethink you, my lord,' said I, ''tis winter. How maya poor fellow go bare and live?' So he told me I shot mine arrow wide ofhis thought; and off with his own gay jerkin, richly furred, and doubletto match, and held them forth to me. Then a servant let me know it was apenance. 'His lordship had had the ill luck to slay his cousin in theircups.' Down to my shoes he changed with me; and set me on his horse likea popinjay, and fared by my side in my worn weeds, with my psaltery onhis back. And said he, 'Now, good youth, thou art Count Detstein; and I,late count, thy Servant. Play thy part well, and help me save myblood-stained soul! Be haughty and choleric, as any noble; and I will beas humble as I may.' I said I would do my best to play the noble. Butwhat should I call him? He bade me call him nought but Servant. Thatwould mortify him most, he wist. We rode on a long way in silence: for Iwas meditating this strange chance, that from a beggar's servant hadmade me master to a count, and also cudgelling my brains how best Imight play the master, without being run through the body all at onetime like his cousin. For I mistrusted sore my spark's humility; yourGerman nobles being, to my knowledge, proud as Lucifer, and choleric asfire. As for the servants, they did slily grin to one another to seetheir master so humbled--"
"_Ah! what is that?_"
A lump, as of lead, had just bounced against the door, and the latch wasfumbled with unsuccessfully. Another bounce, and the door swung inwardswith Giles arrayed in cloth of gold sticking to it like a wasp. Helanded on the floor and was embraced; but, on learning what was goingon, trumpeted that he would much liever hear of Gerard than gossip.
Sybrandt pointed to a diminutive chair.
Giles showed his sense of this civility by tearing the said Sybrandt outof a very big one, and there ensconced himself gorgeous and glowing.Sybrandt had to wedge himself into the one, which was too small for themagnificent dwarf's soul, and Margaret resumed. But as this part of theletter was occupied with notices of places, all which my reader probablyknows, and, if not, can find handled at large in a dozen well-knownbooks, from Munster to Murray, I skip the topography, and hasten to thatpart where it occurred to him to throw his letter into a journal. Thepersonal narrative that intervened may be thus condensed.
He spoke but little at first to his new companions, but listened to pickup their characters. Neither his noble Servant nor his servants couldread or write; and as he often made entries in his tablets, he impressedthem with some awe. One of his entries was "Le peu que sont les hommes."For he found the surly innkeepers licked the very ground before him now;nor did a soul suspect the hosier's son in the count's feathers, nor thecount in the minstrel's weeds. This seems to have surprised him; for heenlarged on it with the naivete and pomposity of youth. At one place,being humbly requested to present the inn with his armorial bearings, heconsented loftily; but painted them himself, to mine host's wonder, whothought he lowered himself by handling brush. The true count stoodgrinning by, and held the paint-pot, while the sham count painted ashield with three red herrings rampant under a sort of Maltese crossmade with two ell-measures. At first his plebeian servants wereinsolent. But this coming to the notice of his noble one, he forgot whathe was doing penance for, and drew his sword to cut off their ears,heads included. But Gerard interposed and saved them, and rebuked thecount severely. And finally they all understood one another, and thesuperior mind obtained its natural influence. He played the barbarousnoble of that day vilely. For his heart would not let him be eithertyrannical or cold. Here were three human beings. He tried to make themall happier than he was; held them ravished with stories, and songs, andset Herr Penitent & Co. dancing, with his whistle and psaltery. For hisown convenience he made them ride and tie, and thus pushed rapidlythrough the country, travelling generally fifteen leagues a day.
The Cloister and the Hearth: A Tale of the Middle Ages Page 56
