THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH ^Si^lsi^ig^^^^^^^^^siS^I^ CORNELL UNIVERSLTY LIBRARY UNDERGRADUATE LIBRARY Cornell University Library PR 5214.C6 1900 The cloister and the hearth; a tale of th 3 1924 014 155 539 Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924014155539 THE MODERN LIBRARY or THE W O R L D'S BEST BOOKS THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH The publishers will be pleased to send, upon request, an illustrated folder setting forth the purpose and scope of THE MODERN 'l,l'B'RA.'RY,andUsting eochvobime in the series. Every reader of books will find titles he has been looking for, handsomely printed, in unabridged- editions, and at an unusually low price. ana tne cJleartk A TALE OF THE MIDDLE AGES i 'y CHARLES READE THE MODERN LIBRARY NEW YORK Kandom House is the publisher of THE MODERN LIBRARY BBKHSTl^ &. CBBF • DONALD B. ELO PPBB -. BOBBBT K. HAAS Manufactured in the United States of Amerioa By H. Wolff CHARLES READE (1814-1884) A NOTE ON THE AUTHOR OF "THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH" It was not until he was forty-two years old that Charles Reade was recognized as a novelist. Prior to that time he had devoted himself with a prolific pen to the playwright's art, and it was as a dramatist that he preferred to be known. No fewer than a dozen plays under his name were produced in London within the five-year period of 1851-1855. That Charles Reade began his career as dramatist and novelist so late in life is not extraordinary in view of the fact that the early years of his maturity were devoted to an academic and legal career. After his graduation from Oxford he became a fellow of that college. In turn he was the dean of arts and vice president at Magdalen. In 1842 he was called to the bar. With such a background it is noteworthy that Reade could ignore the academic serenity of his own life for the world of social conflicts in which he sought his fictional material. A methodical worker, his preparation for each of his dramas and novels was voluminous and painstaking. Like many of the realists who were his contemporaries and successors, he raised documentation to the point where it was almost a fetish. In this respect, Reade's procedure followed closely upon that of Zola, whom he admired and whose L'Assonf moir he adapted for the English stage under the tide Dfin^. It was his greatest dramatic success. The last twenty-three years of Reade's life were crowded with literary activity and at his death, on April 11, 1884, he left a posthumous novel and an enormous mass of data for further literary projects. Of his thirty-odd novels, plays and adaptations. The Cloister and th* Hearth stands as his masterpiece. PREFACE A SMALL portion of this tale appeared in Once a Wee\, July— September, 1859, under the title of "A Good Fight." After writing it, I took wider views of the subject, and also felt uneasy at having deviated unnecessarily from the historical outline of a true story. These two sentiments have cost me more than a year's very hard labour, which I venture to think has not been wasted. After this plain statement I trust all who comment on this work will see that, to describe it as a reprint, would be unfair to the public and to me. The English language is copious and, in any true man's hands, quite able to convey the truth; namely, that one fifth of the present work is a reprint, and four fifths of it a new composition. THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH CHAPTER I NOT a day passes over the earth, but men and wom- en of no note do great deeds, speak great words, and suffer noble sorrows. Of these obscure heroes, phil- osophers, and martyrs, the greater part will never be known till that hour, when many that are great shall, be small, and the small great; but of others the world's knowledge may be said to sleep : their lives and characters lie hidden from nations in the annals that record them. The general reader cannot feel them, they are presented so curtly and coldly: they are not like breathing stories appealing to his heart, but little Jiistoric hailstones strik- ing him but to glance off his bosom: nor can he under- stand them; for epitomes are not narratives, as skeletons are not human figures. Thus records of prime truths remain a dead letter to plain folk; the writers have left so much to the imagina- tion, and imagination is so rare a gift. Here, then, the writer of fiction may be of use to the public — as an inter- preter. There is a musty chronicle, written in tolerable Latin, and in it a chapter where every sentence holds a fact. Here is told, with harsh brevity, the strange history of a pair, who lived untrumpeted, and died unsung, four hundred years ago; and lie now, as unpitied, in that stern page, as fossils in a rock. Thus, living or dead. Fate is still unjust to them. For if I can. but show; you what lies below that 5 " THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH dry chronicler's words, methinks you will correct the in- difference of centuries, and give those two sore tried souls a place in your heart — for a day. It was past the middle of the fifteenth century, Louis XL was sovereign of France; Edward IV. was wrongful King of England; and Philip "the Good," having by force and cunning dispossessed his cousin Jacqueline, and broken her heart, reigned undisturbed this many years in Holland, where our tale begins. Elias, and Catherine his wife, lived in the little town of Tcrgou. He traded, wholesale and retail, in cloth, silk, brown hoUand, and above all, in curried leather, a mate- rial highly valued by the middling people, because it would stand twenty years' wear, and turn an ordinary knife, no small virtue in a jerkin of that century, in which folk were so liberal of their steel; even at dinner a man would leave his meat awhile, and carve you his neigh- bour, on a very moderate difference of opinion. The couple were well to do, and would have been free from all earthly care, but for nine children. When these were coming into the world, one per annum, each was hailed with rejoicings, and the saints were thanked, not expostulated with; and when parents and children were all young together, the latter were looked upon as lovely litde playthings invented by Heaven for the amusement, joy, and evening solace of people in business. But as the olive-branches shot up, and the parents grew older, and saw with their own eyes the fate of large fami- lies, misgivings and care mingled with their love. They belonged to a singularly wise and provident people: in Holland reckless parents were as rare as disobedient chil- dren. So now when the huge loaf came in on a gigantic trencher, looked like a fortress in its moat, and, the tonr THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH t of the table once made, seemed to have iheked away, Elias and Catherine would look at one another and sayj "Who is to find bread for them all when we are gone?" At this observatioii the younger ones needed all their filial respect to keep their Httle Dutch countenances; for in their opinion dinner and supper came by nature like sunrise and sunset, and, so long as that luminary should travel round the earth, so long must the brown loaf go round their family circle, and set in their stomachs only to rise again in,tbfe family oven. But the remark awak- ened the national thoughtfulness of. the elder boys, and being often repeated, set several of the family, thinking, some of them good thoughts, some ill thoughts, according to the nature of the thinkers. "Kate, the children grow so, this table will soon be to<» small." "We cannot afford it, Eli," replied Catherine, answer- ing not his words, but his thought, after the manner of women. Their anxiety for the future took at times a less dismal but more mortifying turn. The free burghers had their pride as well as the nobles; and these two could not bear that any of their blood should go down in the burgh after their decease. So by prudence and self-denial they managed to clothe all the little bodies, and feed all the great mouths, and yet put by a small hoard to meet the future; and, as it grew, and grew, they felt a pleasure the miser hoarding for himself knows not. One day the eldest boy but one, aged nineteen, came to his mother, and with that outward composure which has so misled some persons as to the real nature of this people begged her to intercede with his father to send him to Amsterdam, and place him' with a merchant. "It is the » THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH way of life that likes me; merchants are wealthy; I am good at numbers; prithee, good mother, take my part in idiis, and I shall ever be, as I am now, your debtor." Catherine threw up her hands with dismay and incre- dulity. "What leave Tergoiil" "What is one street to me more than another? If I can leave the folk of Tergou, I can surely leave the stones." "What! quit your poor father now he is no longer young?" "Mother, if I can leave you, I can leave him." "What leave your poor brothers and sisters, that love you so dear?" "There are enough in the house without me." "What mean you, Richart? Who is more thought of than you? Stay, have I spoken sharp to you? Have I been unkind to you?" "Never that I know of; and if you had, you should never hear of it from me. Mother," said Richart gravely, but the tear was in his eye, "it all lies in a word. And noth- ing can change my mind. There will be one mouth less for you to feed." "There now, see what my tongue has done," said Catherine, and the next moment she began to cry. For she saw her first young bird on the edge of the nest try- ing his wings, to fly into the world. Richart had a calm, strong will, and she knew he never wasted a word. It ended as nature has willed all such discourse shall end: young Richart went to Amsterdam with a face so long and sad as it had never been seen before, and a heart like granite. That afternoon at supper there was one mouth less. Catherine looked at Richart's chair and wept bitterly. On this Elias shouted roughly and angrily to the children "sit wider! Can't ye: sit wider!" and turned his head away over the back of his seat awhile, and was silent. THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH 9 Richart was launched; and never cost them another penny : but to fit him out and place him in the house of Vander Stegen the merchant took all the little hoard but one gold crown. They began again. Two years passedi Richart found a niche in commerce for his brother Jacob, and Jacob left Tergou direcdy after dinner, which was at eleven in the forenoon. At supper that day Elias remem- bered what had happened the last time; so it was in a low whisper he said, "sit wider, dears!" Now until that mo. ment, Catherine would not see the gap at table, for her daughter Catherine had besought her not to grieve to- night, and she had said, "No, sweetheart, I promise I will not, since it vexes my children." But when Elias whis- pered "Sit wider!" says she, "Ay! the table will soon be too big for the children : and you thought it would be too small:" and having delivered this with forced calmness, she put up her apron the next moment, and wept sore. " 'Tis the best that leave us," sobbed she, "that is the cruel part." "Nay! nay!" said Elias, "our children are good chil- dren, and all are dear to us alike. Heed her not! What God takes from us still seems better than what he spares to us: that is to say, men are by nature unthankful — and women silly." "And I say Richart and Jacob were the flower of the flock," sobbed Catherine. The little cofler was empty again, and to fill it they gathered like ants. In those days speculation was pretty much confined to the card-and-dice business. Elias knew no way to wealth but the slow and sure one. "A penny saved is a penny gained," was his humble creed. All that was not required for the business, and the necessaries of life, went into the little coffer with steel bands and floric? key. They denied themselves in turn the humblest luxu- ries, and then, catching one another's looks, smiled; per- *° THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH haps "with a greater joy than self-indulgence has to bestow. And so in three, years more they had gleaned enough to set Sup their fourth son as a master tailor, and their eldest daughter as a robe-maker, in Tergou. Here were two more provided for: their own trade would enable them to throw work into the hands of this pair. But the coffer was drained to the dregs, and this time the shop too bled a little in goods if not in coin. Alas! there remained on hand two that were unable to get their bread, and two that were unwilHng. The unable ones were i, Giles, a dwarf, of the wrong sort, half stupid- ity, half malice, all head and claws and voice, run from by dogs and unprejudiced females, and sided with through thick and thin by his mother; 2, Little Catherine, a poor little girl that could only, move on crutches. She lived in pain, but smiled through it, with her marble face and violet eyes and long silky lashes: and fretful or re- pining word never came from her lips. The unvvilling ones were Sybrandt, the youngest, a ne'er-do-weel, too much in love with play to work, aiid Corhelis, the eldest, who had made calculations, and stuck to thehearth, wait-f ing for dead men's shoes. Almost worn out by, their re- peated efforts, and above all dispirited by the moral and physical infirmities of those that now remained on hand, the anxious couple would often say, "What will become of all these when we shall be no knger here to take care of them?" But when they had said this a good many times, suddenly the domestic horizon cleared, and then they used still to say it, because a habit is a habit, but they uttered it half mechanically now, and added brightly and cheerfully, "but thanks to St. Bavon and all the saints, there's Gerard." Young Gerard was for many years of his life a son apart and distinct; object of no fears and no great hopes. THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH " No fears; for he was going into the Church; and the ■Church could always maintain her children by hook oi by crook in those days : no great hopes, because his fam- ily had no interest with the great to get him a benefice, and the young man's own habits were frivolous, and in- deed, such as our cloth merchant would not have put up with in any one but a clerk that was to be. His triviali- ties were reading and penmanship, and he was so wrapt up in them that often he could hardly be got away to his meals. The day was never long enough for him: and he carried ever a tinder-box and brimstone matches, and begged ends of candles of the neighbors, which he lighted at unreasonable hours — ay, even at eight of the clock at night in winter, when the very burgomaster was abed. Endured at home, his practices were encouraged by the monks of a neighboring convent. They had taught him penmanship, and continued to teach him, until one day they discovered, in the middle of a lesson, that he was teaching them. They pointed this out to him in a merry way: he hung his head and blushed: he had suspected as. much himself, but mistrusted his judgment in so delicate a matter. "But, my son," said the elderly monk, "how is it that you, to whom God has given an eye so true, a hand so subtle yet firm, a!nd a heart to love these beautiful crafts, how is it you do riot colour as well as write.? a scroll looks but barren unless a border of fruit, and leaves, and rich arabesques, surround the good words, and charm the senses as those do the soul and understanding; to say noth- ing of the pictures of holy men and women departed, with which the several chapters should be adorned, and not alone the eye soothed with the braVe and sweetly blended colours, but the heart lifted by feffigies of the saints in glory. Answer me, my son." At this Gerard was conftised, and muttered that he had " THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH made several trials at illuminating, but had not succeeded well; and thus the matter rested. Soon after this a fellow-enthusiast came on the scene in the unwonted form of an old lady. Margaret, sister and survivor ,of the brothers Van Eyck, left Flanders, and came to end her days in her native country. She bought a small house near Tergou. In; course of time she heard of Gerardi and saw some of his handiv^ork: it pleased her so well that she sent her female servant, Reicht Heynes, to ask him to come to her. This led to an acquaintance: it could hardly be otherwise, for little Tergou had never held so many as twb zealots of this sort before. At first the old lady damped Gerard's courage terribly. At each visit she fished out of holes and corners drawings and paint^- ings, some of them by her own hand, that seemed to him unapproachable: but if the artist overpowered him, the woman kept his heart up. She and Reicht soon turned him inside out like a glove: among other things, they drew from him what the good monks had failed to hit upon, the reason why he did not illuminate, viz., that he could not afford the gold, the blue, and the red, but only the cheap earths; and that he was afraid to ask his mother to buy the choice colours, and was sure he should ask her in vain. Then Margaret Van Eyck gave him a little brush- gold, and some vermilion, and ultramarine, and a piece of good vellum to lay them on. He almost adored her. As he left the house Reicht ran after him with a candle and two quarters: he quite kissed her. But better even than the gold and lapis lazuli to the illuminator was the sym- pathy to the isolated enthusiast. That, sympathy was al- ways ready, and, as he returned it, an affection sprung up between the old painter and the young caligrapher that was doubly characteristic of the time. For this was a cen- tury in: which the fine arts and the higher mechanical arts were not separated by any distinct boundary, nor were THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH ^3 those who practised them: and it was an age in which artists sought out and loved one another. Should this last statement stagger a painter or writer of our day, let me remind him that even Christians loved one another at first starting. Backed by an acquaintance so venerable, and strength- ened by female sympathy, Gerard advanced in learning and skill. His spirits, too, rose visibly: he still looked be- hind him when dragged to dinner in the middle of an initial G; but once seated showed great social qualities: likewise a gay humour, that had hitherto but peeped in him, shone out, and often he set the table in a roar, and kept it there, sometimes with his own wit, sometimes with jests which were glossy new to his family, being drawn from antiquity. As a return for all he owed his friends the monks, he made them exquisite copies from two of their choicest MSS., viz., the life of their founder, and their Comedies of Terence, the monastery finding the vellum. The high and puissant Prince, Philip "the Good," Duke of Burgundy, Luxemburg, and Brabant, E,?rl of Holland and Zealand, Lord of Friesland, Count of Flanders, Ar- tois, and Hainault, Lord of Salins and Macklyn — was ver- satile. He could fight as well as any king going; and he could lie as well as any, except the King of France. He was a mighty hunter, and could read and write. His tastes were wide and ardent. He loved jewels like a woman, and gor- geous apparel. He dearly loved maids of honour, and in- deed paintings generally; in proof of which he ennobled Jan Van Eyck. He had also a rage for giants, dwarfs, and Turks. These last stood ever planted about him, turbaned, and blazing with jewels. His agents inveigled them from Istamboul with fair promises : but, the moment he had got them, he baptized them by brute force in a large tub; and, M THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH this done, let them squat with their faces toward Mecca, and invoke Mahound as much as they pleased, laughing in his sleeve at their simplicity in fancying they were still infidels. He had lions in cages, and fleet leopards trained by Orientals to run down hares and deer. In short, he rel- ished all rarities except the humdrum virtues. For any- thing singularly pretty, or diabolically, ugly, this was your customer. The best of him was, he was open-handed to the poor; and the next best was, he fostered the arts in earnest:, whereof he now gave a signal proof. He offered prizes for the best specimens of "orfevrerie" in two kinds, religious and secular; item for the best paintings in white of egg, oils and tempera;, these to be on panel, silk, or metal, as the artists chose: item for the best transparent painting on glass: item for the best illuminating and bor- der painting on vellum: item for the fairest writing on vellum. The burgomasters of the several towns were com- manded to aid all the poorer competitiors by receiving their specimens and sending them with due care to Rot- terdam at the expense of their several burghs. When this was cried by the bellman through the streets of Tergou, a thousand mouths opened, and one heart beat — Gerard's.^ He told his family timidly he should try for two of those prizes. They stared in silence, for their breath was gone at this audacity: but one horrid laugh exploded on the floor like a petard. Gerard looked down, and there was the dwarf, slit and fanged from ear to ear at his expense, and laughing like a lion. Nature relenting at having made Giles so small, had given him as a set-ofE the biggest voice on record. His very whisper was a bassoon. He was like those stunted wide-mouthed pieces of ordnance we see on fortifications; more like a flower-pot than a cannon; but ods tympana how they bellow! Gerard turned red with anger, and the more so as the THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH ^5 Others began to titter. White Catherine saw, and a pink tinge came on her cheeks. She said softly, "Why do you laugh .? Is it because he is our brother you think he cannot be capable? Yes, Gerard, try with the rest. Many say you are skilful; and mother and I will pray the Virgin to guide your hand." "Thank you, little Kate. You shall pray to our Lady, and our mother shall buy me vellum and the colours to illuminate with." "What will they cost, my lad?" "Two gold crowns" (about three shiUings and four' pence English money). "What?" screamed the housewife; "when the bushel of rye costs but a groat! What! me spend a month's meal and meat and fire on such vanity as that: the lightning from Heaven would fall on me and my children would all be beggars." "Mother!" sighed little Qitherine imploringly. "Oh! it is in vain, Kate," said Gerard, with a sigh. "I shall have to give it up, or ask the dame Van Eyck. She would give it me, but I think shame to be for ever taking from her." "It is not her affair," said Catherine, very sharply; "what has she to do coming between me and my son?" And she left the room with a red face. Little Catherine smiled. Presently the housewife returned with a gracious affectionate air, and two little gold pieces in her hand. "There, sweetheart/' said she, "you won't have to trouble dame or demoiselle fdr two paltry crowns." But on this Gerard fell a-thinking how he could spare her purse. "One will do, mother. I will ask the good monks to let me send my copy of their 'Terence:' it is on snowy vel- lum, and I can write no better: so then I shall only need 'S THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH six sheets of vellum for my borders and miniatures, and gold for my ground, and prime colours — one crown will do." "Never tyne the ship for want of a bit of tar, Gerard," said this changeable mother. But she added, "Well, there, I will put the crown in my pocket. That won't be like put- ting it back in the box. Going to the box to take out in- stead of putting in, it is like going to my heart with a knife for so many drops of blood. You will be sure to want it, Gerard. The house is never built for less than the builder counted on." Sure enough, when the time came, Gerard longed to go to Rotterdam and see the duke, and above all to see the work of his competitors, and so get a lesson from de- feat. And the crown came out of the housewife's pocket with a very good grace. Gerard would soon be a -priest. It seemed hard if he might not enjoy the world a little before separating himself from it for life. The night before he went, Margaret Van Eyck asked him to take a letter for her, and when he came to look at it, to his surprise he found it was addressed to the Princess Marie, at the Stadthouse, in Rotterdam. The day before the prizes were to be distributed, Ger- ard started for Rotterdam in his' holiday suit, to wit, a doublet of silver-grey cloth with sleeves, and a jerkin of the same over it, but without sleeves. From his waist to his heels he was clad in a pair of tight-fitting buckskin hose fastened by laces (called points) to his doublet. His shoes were pointed, in moderation, and secured by a strap that passed under the hollow of his foot. On his head and the back of his neck he wore his flowing hair, and pinned to his back between his shoulders was his hat: it was further secured by a purple silk ribbon little Kate had passed round him from the sides of the hat, and knotted neatly on his breast; below his hat, attached to the upper THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH 17 rim of his broad waist-belt, was his leathern wallet. When he got within a league of Rotterdam he was pretty tired, but he soon fell in with a pair that was more so. He found an old man sitting by the roadside quite worn out, and a comely young woman holding his hand, with- a face brimful of concern. The country people trudged by and noticed nothing amiss: but Gerard, as he passed drew conclusions. Even dress tells a tale to those who study it so closely as he did, being an illuminator. The old man wore a gown, and a fur tippet, and a velvet cap, sure signs of dignity: but the triangular purse at his girdle was lean^ the gown rusty, the fur worn, sure signs of poverty. The young woman was dressed in plain russet cloth : yet snow- white lawn covered that part of her neck the gown left visible, and ended half way up her white throat in a little band of gold embroidery: and her head-dress was new to Gerard; instead of hiding her hair in a pile of linen or lawn, she wore an open net-work of silver cord with silver spangles at the interstices : in this her glossy auburn hair was rolled in front into two solid waves, and supported behind in a luxurious and shapely mass. His quick eye took in all this, and the old man's pallor, and the tears in the young woman's eyes. So when he had passed them a few yards, he reflected, and turned back, and came to- wards them bashfully. "Father, I fear you are tired." "Indeed, my son, I am," replied the old man; "and faint for lack of food." Gerard's address did not appear so agreeable to the girl as to the old' man. She seemed ashamed, and with much reserve in her manner said, that it was her fault; she had underrated the distance, and imprudently allowed hei father to start too late in the day. "No! no!" said the old man; "it is not the distance, iv is the want of nourishment." ^8 THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH The girl put her arms round his neck, with tender con- cern, but took that opportunity of whispering, "Father, a stranger — a young man!" But it was too late. Gerard, with simplicity, and quite as a matter of course, fell to gathering sticks with great expedition. This done, he took down his wallet, out with the manchet of bread and the iron flask his careful mother had put up, and his everlasting tinder-box; lighted a match, then a candle end, then the sticks; and put his iron flask on it. Then down hi went on his stomach and took a good blow: then looking up, he saw the girl's face had thawed, and she was looking down at him and his energy with a demure smile. He laughed back to her: "Mind die pot," said he, "and don't let it spill,' for Heaven's sake: there's a cleft stick to hold it safe with;" and with this he set off running towards a corn-field at some distance. Whilst he was gone, there came by, on a mule with rich purple housings, an old man redolent of wealth. The purse at his girdle was plethoric, the fur on his tippet was ermine, broad and new. It was Ghysbrecht Van Swieten, the burgomaster of Tergou. He was old, and his face furrowed. He was a aotorious miser, and looked one generally. But the idea of supping with the duke raised him just now into mani- fest complacency. Yet at the sight of the faded old man and his bright daughter sitting by a fire of sticks,, the smile died out of his' face, and he wore a strange look of pain and uneasiness. He reined in hismule. "Why, Peter, —Margaret—" said he almost fiercely." Whatmummery is this!" Peter was going to answer, but Margaret interposed hastily, and said: "My father was exhausted, so I am warming something to give him strength before we go on." "What, reduced to feed by the roadside like the Bo- hemians," said Ghysbrechtj and his hand went into his THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH *!' purse: but it did not seem at home there; it fumbled un- certainly, afraid too large a coin might stick to a finger and come out. At this moment who should come bounding lip but Gerard. He had two straws in his hand, and he threw himself down by the fire, and relieved Margaret of the cooking part: then suddenly recognizing the burgomas- ter, he coloured all over. Ghysbrecht Van Swieten started and glared at him, and took his hand out of his purse. "Oh," said he bitterly, "I am not wanted:" and went slowly on, casting a long look of suspicion on Margaret, and hostility on Gerard, that was not very intelligible. However, there was something about it that Margaret could read enough to blush at, and almost toss her head. Gerard only stared with surprise. "By St. Bavon, I think the old miser grudges us three our quart of soup," said he. When the young man put that interpretation on Ghysbrecht's strange and meaning look, Margaret war gready relieved, and smiled gaily on the speaker. Meantime Ghysbrecht plodded on, more wretched in his wealth than these in their poverty. And the curious thing is that the mule, the purple housings, and one half the coin in that plethoric purse, belonged not to Ghys- brecht Van Swieten, but to that faded old man and that comely girl, who sat by the road-side fire to be fed by a stranger. They did not know this, but Ghysbrecht knew it, and carried in his heart a scorpion of his own beget- ting. That scorpion is remorse; the remorse, that, not be- ing penitence, is incurable, and ready for fresh misdeeds upon a fresh temptation. Twenty years ago, when Ghysbrecht was a hard and honest man, the touchstone opportunity came to him, and he did an act of heartless roguery. It seemed a safe one. It had hitherto proved a safe one, though he had 20 THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH never felt safe. To-day he has seen youth, enterprise, and above all, knowledge, seated by fair Margaret and her father on terms that look familiar and loving. And the fiends are at his ear again. CHAPTER II '^'TpHE soup is hot," said Gerard. J_ "But hovr arc we to get it to our mouths?" in- quired the senior, despondingly. "Father, the young man has brought us straws." And Margaret smiled slily. "Ay, ay!" said the old man: "but my poor bones are stiff, and indeed the fire is too hot for a body to kneel over with these short straws. St. John the Baptist, but the young man is adroit!" For, while he stated his difficulty, Gerard removed it. He untied in a moment the knot on his breast, took his hat off, put a stone in each corner of it, then wrapping his hand in the tail of his jerkin, whipped the flask off the fire, wedged it in between the stones, and put the hat un- der the old man's nose with a merry smile. The other tremulbusly inserted the pipe of rye-straw and sucked. Lo and behold his wan, drawn face was seen to light up more and more, till it quite glowed; and, as soon as he had drawn a long breath: "Hippocrates and Galen!" he cried, " 'tis a soupe au vin — ^the restorative of restoratives. Blessed be the nation that invented it, and the woman that made it, and the young man who brings it to fainting folk. Have a suck, my girl, while I relate to our young host the history and virtues of this his sovereign compound. This corroborative, young THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH ^R sir, was unknown to the ancients: we find it neither in their treatises of medicine, nor in those popular narra- tives, which reveal many o£ their remedies, both in chir- urgery and medicine proper. Hector, in the Ilias, if my memory does not play me false, — " Margaret. "Alas! he's off." " — ^was invited by one of the ladies of the poem to drink a draught of wine; but he declined, on the plea that he was just going into battle, and must not take aught to weaken his powers. Now, if the 'soupe au vin' had been known in Troy, it is clear that in declining 'vinum me- rum' upon that score, he would have added in the next hexameter, 'But a "soupe au vin," madam, I will degust, and gratefully.' Not only would this have been but com- mon civility — a virtue no perfect commander is wanting in — ^but not to have done it would have proved him a shallow and improvident person, unfit to be trusted with the conduct of a war; for men going into a battle need sustenance and all the possible support, as is proved by this, that foolish generals, bringing hungry soldiers to blows with full ones, have been defeated, in all ages, by inferior numbers. The Romans lost a great battle in the north of Italy to Hannibal the Carthaginian, by this neg- lect alone. Now, this divine elixir gives in one moment force to the limbs and ardour to the spirits; and taken into Hector's body at the nick of time, would, by the aid of Phoebus, Venus, and the blessed saints, have most like- ly procured the Greeks a defeat. For, note how faint and weary and heart-sick I was a minute ago; well, I suck this celestial cordial, and now behold me brave as Achillea and strong as an eagle." "Oh father j now.? an eagle; alack!" "Girl, I defy thee and all the world. Ready, I say, like a foaming charger, to devour the space between this and Rotterdam, and strong to combat the ills of life, even >* THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH poverty and old age, which last philosophers have called the 'summum malum.' Negatur; unless the man's life has been ill-spent— which, by the by, it generally has. Now for the moderns." "Father! dear father!" "Fear me not, girl, I will be brief, unreasonably and un- seasonably brief. The 'soupe au vin' occurs not in modern science'; but this is only one proof more, if proof were needed, that for the last few hundred years physicians have been idiots, with their chicken broth and their decoc- tion of gold, whereby they attribute the highest qualities to that meat which has the least juice of any meat, and to the metal which has less chemical quaUties than all the metals; mountebanks! dunces! homicides! Since, then, from these no light is to be gathered, go we to the chron- iclers; and first we find that Duguesclin, a French knight, being about to join battle with the English — masters, at that time, nf half France, and sturdy strikers by sea and land — drank, not one, but three, 'soupes au vin,' in hon- our of the Blessed Trinity. This; done, he charged the islanders; and as might have been foretold, killed a n^ul- titude, and drove the rest into the sea. But he was only the first of a long Hst of holy and hard-hitting ones who have, by this divine restorative, been sustenated, fortified, cor- roborated, and consoled." "Dear father, prithee add thyself to that venerable com- pany ere the soup cools." And Margaret held the hat im- ploringly in both hands till he inserted the straw once more. This spared them the "modern instances," and gave Gerard an opportunity of telling Margaret how proud his mother would be her soup had profited a man of learning. "Ay! but," said Margaret, "it would like her ill to see THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH 23 her son give all and take none himself. Why brought you but two straws?" "Fair mistress, I hoped you would let me put my lips to your straw, there being but two." Margaret smiled, and blushed. "Never beg that you may command," said she. "The straw is not mine, 'tis yours: you cut it in yonder field." "I cut it, and that made it mine; but, after that, your lip touched it, and that made it yours." "Did it? Then I will lend it you. There — ^now it is yours again : your lip has touched it." "No, it belongs to us both now. Let us divide it." "By all means; you have a knife." "No, I will not ciit it — ^that would be unlucky; I'll bite it. There. I shall keep my half: you will burn yours, once you get home, I doubt." "You know me not. I waste nothing. It is odds but 1 make a hair-pin of it, or something." This answer dashed the novice Gerard instead of pro- voking him to fresh efforts, and he was silent. And now, the bread and soup being disposed of, the pld scholar pre- pared to continue his journey. Then came a little difH- culty: Gerard the adroit could not tie his ribbon again as Catherine had tied it. Margaret, after slily eyeing his ef- forts for some time, offered to help him; for at her age girls love to be coy and tender, saucy and gentle, by turns, and she saw she had put him out of countenance but now. Theji a fair head, with its stately crown of auburn hair, glossy and glowing through silver, bowed sweetlj towards him; and, while it ravished his eye, two white supple hands played delicately upon the stubborn ribbon, and moulded it with soft and airy touches. Then a heav- enly thrill ran through the innocent young man, and vague glimpses of a new world of feeling and sentimenJ M THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH opened on him. And these new and exquisite sensations Margaret unwittingly prolonged: it is not natural to her sex to hurry aught that pertains to the sacred toilet. Nay, when the taper fingers had at last subjugated the ends o£ the knot, her mind was not quite easy, till, by a ma- noeuvre peculiar to the female hand, she had made her palm convex, and so applied it with a gentle pressure to the centre of the knot — a sweet little coaxing hand-kiss, as much as to say, "Now be a good knot, and stay so." The palm-kiss was bestowed on the ribbon, but the wear- er's heart leaped to meet it. "There, that is how it was," said Margaret, and drew back to take one last keen survey of her work; then, look- ing up for simple approval of her skill, received full in her eyes a longing gaze of such ardent adoration, as made her lower them quickly and colour all over. An indescribable tremor seized her, and she retreated with downcast lashes and tell-tale cheeks, and took her father's arm on the op- posite side. Gerard, blushing at having scared her away with his eyes, took the other arm; and so the two young things went downcast and conscious, and propped the eagle along in silence. They entered Rotterdam by the Schiedamze Poort; and, as Gerard was unacquainted with the town, Peter directed him the way to the Hoog Straet, in which the Stadthouse was. He himself was going with Margaret ta his cousin^ in ihe Ooster-Waagen Straet, so, almost on en- tering the gate, their roads lay apart. They bade each other a friendly adieu, and Gerard dived into the great town. A profound sense of solitude fell upon him, yet the streets were crowded. Then he lamented too late that, out of delicacy, he had not asked his late companions who they were and where they lived. "Beshrew my shamefacedness!" said he. "But their words and their breeding were above their means, and THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH 25 something did whisper me they would not be known. I shall never see her more. Oh! weary world, I hate you and your ways. To think I must meet beauty and goodness and learning — three pearls of price, — and never see them more!" Falling into this sad reverie, and letting his body go where it would, he lost his way; but presently meeting a crowd of persons all moving in one direction, he mingled with them, for he argued they must be making for the Stadthouse. Soon the noisy troop that contained the moody Gerard emerged, not upon the Stadthouse, but upon a large meadow by the side of the Maas; and then the attraction was revealed. Games of all sorts were going on: wrestling, the game of palm, the quintain, legerde- main, archery, tumbling, in which art, I blush to say, women as well as men performed to the great delectation of the company. There was also a trained bear, who stciod on his head, and marched upright, and bowed with pro- digious gravity to his master; and a hare that beat a drum, and a cock that strutted on little stilts disdainfully. These things made Gerard laugh now and then; but the gay scene could not really enliven it, for his heart was not in tune with it. So, hearing a young man say to his fellow that the duke had been in the meadow, but was gone to the Stadthouse to entertain the burgomasters and alder- men and the competitors for the prizes, and their friends, he suddenly remembered he was hungry, and should like to sup with a prince. He left the river-side, and this time he found the Hoog Straet, and it speedily led him to the Stadthouse. But when he got there he was refused, first at one door, then at another, till he came to the great gate of the court-yard. It was kept by soldiers, and superin- tended by a pompous major-domo, glittering in an em- broidered collar and a gold chain of office, and holding a white staff with a gold knob. There was a crowd of per- 2^ THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH sons at the gate endeavoring to soften this official rock. They came up in turn like ripples, and retired as such in turn. It cost Gerard a struggle to get near him, and when he was within four heads of the gate, he saw something^ that made his heart beat: there was Peter, with Margaret on his arm, soliciting humbly for entrance. "My cousin the alderman is not at home. They say he is here." "What is that to me, old man-?" "If you will not let us pass in to him, at least take this- leaf from my tablet to my cousin. See I have written his- name: he will come out to us." "For what do you take me? I carry no messages. I keep- the gate." He then bawled, in a stentorian voice, inexorably: "No strangers enter here but the competitors and their companies." "Come, old man," cried a voice in the crowd, "you have gotten your answer; make way." i Margaret turned half round imploringly: "Good people, we are come from far, and my father iy old; and my cousin has a new servant that knows us not^ and would not let us sit in our cousin's house." At this the crowd laughed hoarsely. Margaret shrank, as if they had struck her. At that moment a hand grasped hers — a. magic grasp: it felt like heart meeting heart, or magnet steel. She turned quickly around at it, and it was: Gerard. Such a little cry of joy and appeal came from her bosom, and' she began to whimper prettily. They had hustled her and frightened her for one thing;; and her cousin's thoughtlessness, in not even telling his servant they were' coming, was cruel; and the servant's, caution, however wise and faithful to her master, was bit- terly mortifying to her father arid her; And to her so mor- THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH V r tified, and anxious and jostled, came suddenly this kind hand and face. "Hinc illae lacrimae." "All is well now," remarked a coarse humourist; "she hath gotten her sweetheart." "Haw! haw! haw!" went the crowd. She dropped Gerard's hand directly, and turned round, with eyes flashing through her tears: "I have no sweetheart, you rude men. But I am friend- less in your boorish town, and this is a friend; and one who knows, what you know not, how to treat the aged and the weak." The crowd was dead silent. They had only been thoughtless, and now felt the rebuke, though severe, war just. The silence enabled Gerard to treat with the porter. "I am a competitor, sir." "What is your name.?" and the man eyed him suspi dously. "Gerard, the son of Elias'." The janitor inspected the slip of parchment he held i« his hand: "Gerard Eliassoen can enter." "With my company; these two?" "Nay; those are not your company: they came befoijO' you." "What matter? they are my friends, and without therr I go not in." "Stay without, then." "That will I not." "That we will see." "We will, and speedily." And with this, Gerard raisecJ a voice of astounding volume and power, and shouted, s«? that the whole street rang: "Ho! Philip Earl of Holland!" "Are you mad?" cried the. porter. 28 THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH "Here is one of your varlets defies you." "Hush, Hush!" "And will not let your guests pass in." "Hush! murder! The duke's there. I'm dead," cried the janitor, quaking. Then suddenly trying to overpower Gerard's thunder, he shouted, with all his lungs: "Open the gates, ye knaves! Way there for Gerard Eliassoen and his company! (the fiehds go with him!)" The gate swung open as by magic. Eight soldiers low- ered their pikes half way, and made an arch, under which 'the victorious three marched in triumphant. The moment (hey had passed^ the pikes clashed together horizontally to bar the gateway, and all but pinned an abdominal citizen that sought to wedge in along with them. Once passed the guarded portal, a few steps brought the trio upon a scene of Oriental luxury. The court-yard was laid out in tables loaded with rich meats, and piled with gorgeousi plate. Guests in rich and various costumes sat beneath a leafy canopy of fresh cut branches fastened tastefully to golden, silver, and blue silken cords that traversed the area; and fruits of many hues, including some artificial ones of gold, silver, and wax, hung pen- dent, or peeped like fair eyes among the green leaves of plane-trees- and lime-trees. The duke's minstrels swept their lutes at intervals, and a fountain played" red Burgun- dy in six jets that met and battled in the air. The evening sun darted its fires through those bright and purple wine spouts, making them jets and cascades of molten rubies, then passing on, tinged with the blood of the grape, shed crimson glories here and there on fair faces, snowy beards, velvet, satin jewelled hilts, glowing gold, gleaming silver, and sparkling glass. Gerard and his friends stood dazzled, spell bound. Presently a whisper buzzed around them, "Salute the duke! Salute the duke!" They looked up, and THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH ^9 there on high, under the dais, was their sovereign, bidding them welcome with a kindly wave of the hand. The men bov/ed low, and Margaret curtsied with a deep and grace^ ful obeisance. The duke's hand being up, he gave it an- other turn, and pointed the newcomers out to a knot of valets. Instantly seven of his people, with an obedient start, went headlong at our friends, seated them at a table, and put fifteen many coloured soups before them, in lit- de silver bowls, and as many wines in crystal vases. "Nay, father, let us not eat until we have thanked our good friend," said Margaret, now first recovering from all this bustle. "Girl, he is our guardian angel." Gerard put his face into his hands. "Tell me when you have done," said he, "and I will re- appear and have my supper, for I am hungry. I know which o? us three is the happiest at meeting again." "Me?" inquired Margaret. "No: guess again." "Father?" "No." "Then I have no guess which it can be;" and she gave a little crow of happiness and gaiety. The soup was tasted, and vanished in a twirl of fourteen hands, and fish came on the table in a dozen forms with patties of lobster and almonds mixed, and of alrnonds and cream, and an im- mense vaiicty of "broucts," known to us as "rissoles." The next trifle was a wild boar, which smelt divine. Why, then, did Margaret start away from it with two shrieks of dismay, and pinch so good a friend as Gerard? Because the duke's "cuisinier" had been too clever; had made this excellent dish too captivating to the sight as well as taste. He had restored to the animal, by elaborate mimicry with burnt sugar and other edible colours, the hair and bristles he had robbed him of by fire and water. To make him still 3" THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH more enticing, the huge tusks were carefully preserved iri the brute's jaw, and- gave his mouth the, winning smile that comes of tusk in man or beast: and two eyes of col- oured sugar glowed in his head. St. Argus! what eyes! so bright, so blood-shot, so threatening — they followed a man and every movement of his knife and spoon. But, indeed, I need the pencil of Granville or Tenniel to make you see the two gilt valets on the opposite side of the table putting the monster down before our friends, with a smiling, self-satisfied, benevolent obsequiousness — for this ghastly monster was the flower of all comestibles — old Peter clasping both hands in pious admiration of it; Mar- garet wheeling round with horror-stricken eyes and her hand on Gerard's shoulder, squeaking and pinching; his face bf uhwise delight at being pinched, the grizzly brute glaring sulkily on all, and the guests grinning from ear to ear. "What's to do.?" shouted the duke, hearing the signals of female distress. Seven of his people with a zealous start went headlong and told him. He laughed and said, "Give her of the beef-stuffing, then, and bring me Sir Boar." Benevolent monarch! The,' beef-stuffing was his own pri- vate dish. On these grand occasions an ox was roasted whole, and reserved for the poor. But this wise as well as charitable prince had discovered, that whatever venison, hares, lamb, poultry, &c., you skewered into that beef cav- ern, got cooked to perfection, retaining their own juices and receiving those of the reeking ox. These he called his beef-stuffing, and took deUght therein, as did now our trio for, at his word, seven of his people went headlong, and drove silver tridents into the steaming cave at ran- dom, and speared a kid, a cygnet, and a flock of wild fowl. These presently smoked before Gerard and company; and Peter's face sad and slightly morose at the loss of the THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH 3^ savage hog, expanded and shone. After this, twenty differ- ent tarts of fruits and herbs, and last of all, confectionery on a Titanic scale; cathedrals of sugar, all gilt and painted in the interstices of the bas-reliefs; castles and their moats, and ditches, imitated to the life; elephants, camels, toads; knights on horseback, jousting;, kings and princesses looking on; trumpeters blowing; and all these personages delicious eating, and their veins filled with sweet-scented juices: works of art made to be destroyed. The guests breached a bastion, crunched a crusader and his horse and lance, or cracked a bishop, cope, chasuble, crosier and all, as remorselessly as we do a caraway comfit; sipping, meanwhile, hippocras and other spiced drinks, and Greek and Corsican wines, while every now and then little Tur- kish boys, turbaned, spangled, jewelled, and gilt, came offering on bended knee golden troughs of rose-water and orange-water to keep the guests' hands cool and per- fumed. But long before our party arrived at this final stage, ap- petite had succumbed, and Gerard had suddenly remem- bered he was the bearer of a letter to the Princess Marie, and, in an undertone had asked one of the servants if he would undertake to deliver it. The man took it with a deep obeisance: "He could not deliver it himself, but would instantly give it one of the princess's suite, several of whom were about." It may be remembered that Peter and Margaret came here not to dine, but to find their cousin. Well, the old gendeman ate heartily, and being much fatigued dropped asleep, and forgot all about his cousin. Margaret did not remind him, we shall hear why. Meantime, that cousin was seated within a few feet ot them, at their backs, and discovered them when Marga- ret turned round and screamed at the boar. But he for- 3* THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH bore to speak to them, for municipal reasons. Margaret was very plainly dressed and Peter inclined to be thread- bare. So the alderman said to himself, " 'Twill be time to make up to them when the sun sets and the company disperses: then I will take my poor rela- tions to my house, and none will be the wiser." Half the courses were lost on Gerard and Margaret. They were no great eaters, and just now were feeding on sweet thoughts that have ever been unfavourable to appe- tite. But there is a delicate kind of sensuality, to whose influence these two were perhaps more sensitive than any other pair in that assembly; the delights of colour, music, and perfume, all of which blended so fascinatingly here. Margaret leaned back and half closed her eyes, and murmured to Gerard: "What a lovely scene! the warm sun, the green shade, the rich dresses, the bright music of the lutes and the cool music of the fountain, and all faces so happy and gay! and then, it is to you we owe it." Gerard was silent all but his eyes; observing which — "Now, speak not to me," said Margaret languidly; "let me listen to the fountain: what are you a competitor for?" He told her. "Very well! You will gain one prize, at least." "Which? Which? Have you seen any of my- work?" "I ? no. But you will gain a prize." "I hope so: but what rnakes you think so?" "Because you were so good to my father." Gerard smiled at the feminine logic, and hung his head at the sweet praise, and was silent; "Speak not," murmured Margaret. "They say this is a world of «in and misery. Can that be ? What is your opin- ion?" "No! that is all a silly old song," explained Gerard. THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH 33 " 'Tis a byword our ciders keep repeating, out of custom: it is not true." "How can you know? you are but a child," said Mar- garet, with pensive dignity. "Why only look round I And then L thought I had lost you for ever; and you are by my side: and now the min- strels are going to play again. Sin and misery? Stuff and nonsense!" The lutes burst out. The court-yard rang again with their delicate harmony. "What do you admire most of all these beautiful things, Gerard?" "You know my name ? How is that ? " "White magic. I am a witch." "Angels are never witches. But I can't think how you—" "Foolish boy! was it not cried at the gate loud enough todeaveone?" "So it was. Where is my head? What do I adrriire most? If you will sit a little more that way, I'll tell you." "This way?" ■ "Yes; so that the light may .fall on you. There. I see many fair things here, fairer than I could have conceived; but the bravest of all to my eye, is your lovely hair in its silver frame, and the setting sun kissing it. It reminds me of what the Vulgate praises for beauty, 'an apple of gold in a network^ of silver,' and, O what a pity I did not know you before I sent in my poor endeavours at illuminating! I could illuminate so much better now. I could do every- thing better. There, now the sun is full on it, it is like an aureole. So our Lady looked, and none since her until to- day." "O fie! it-is wicked to talk so, Compare a poor, coarse- 34 THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH favoured girl like me with the Queen of Heaven? O Ger- ard! I thought you were a good young man." And Mar- garet was shocked apparently. Gerard tried to explain. "I am no worse thjan the rest: but how can I help having eyes; and a heart— ^Margaret!" "Gerard.?" "Be not angry now!" "Now, is it hkely.?" "'I love you." ' "O for shame! you must not say that to me," and Mar- garet coloured furiously at this sudden assault. "I cian't help it. I love you. I love you." "Hush, hush! for pity's sake! I must not listen to such words from a stranger. I am ungrateful to call you a /tranger. O how one may be mistaken! If I had known jrou were so bold-^" And Margaret's bosom began to heave, and her cheeks were covered with blushes, and she looked towards her sleeping father, very much like a timid thing that meditates actual flight. Then Gerard was frightened at the alarm he caused. "Forgive me," said he imploringly. "How could any one help loving you.?" "Well, sir, I will try and forgive you — you are so good in other respects; but then you must promise me never to say you — to say that again." "Give me your hand then, or you don't forgive me." She hesitated; but eventually put out her hand a very little way, very slowly, and with seeming reluctance. He took it, and held it prisoner. When she thought it had been there long enough, she tried gently to draw it away. He held it tight: it submitted quite patiently to force. What is the use resisting force.? She turned her head away, and her long eyelashes drooped sweetly. Gerard lost nothing by his promise. Words were not heeded here: and silence was more clo)quent. Nature was in that day what THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH 35 she is in ours; but manners w^re somewhat freer. Then, as now, virgins drew back alarmed at the first words of love; but of prudery and artificial coquetry there was lit- tle, and the young soon read one another's hearts. Every- thing WAS on Gerard's side: his good looks, her belief in his goodness, her gratitude; and opportunity: for at the duke's banquet this mellow summer eve, all things dis- posed the female nature to tenderness : the avenues to the heart lay open; the senses were so soothed and subdued with lovely colours, gentle sounds, and delicate odours; the sun gently sinking, the warm air, the green canopy, the cool music of the now violet fountain. Gerard and Margaret sat hand in hand in silence: and Gerard's eyes sought = hers lovingly; and hers now and then turned on him timidly and imploringly: and pres- , ently two sweet unreasonable tears rolled down her cheeks, and she smiled deliciously while they were dry- ing:, yet they did not take long. And the sun declined; and the air cooled, and the fountain plashed more gently; and the pair throbbed in unison, and silence, and this weary world looked heaven to them. CHAPTER III A GRAVE white-haired seneschal came to their table,, and inquired courteously whether Gerard Elias- soen was of their company. Upon Gerard's answer, he said: Jy^ THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH "The Princess Marie would confer with you, young sir; I am to conduct you to her presence." Instantly all faces within hearing turned sharp round, and were bent with curiosity and envy on the man that ■was to go to a princess. Gerard rose to obey. "I wager we shall not see you again," said Margaret calmly, but colouring a little. "That will you,"r was the reply: then he whispered in her ear: "This is^my good princess; but you are my queen." He added aloud : "Wait for me, I pray you, I will presently return." "Ay, ay!" said Peter awaking and speaking at one and the same moment, ' Gerard gone, the pair whose dress was so homely, yet they were with the man whom the princess sent for, be- came "the cynosure of neighbouring eyes;" observing which, William Johnson icame forward, acted surprised, and claimed his relations:. ,, , . . "And to think that there was I at your backs, and you saw me not." "Nay, cousin Johnson, I saw you long syne," said Mar- garet, coldly. "You saw me, and spoke not to me?" "Cousin, it was for you to welcome us to Rotterdam, as it is for us to welcome you at Sevenbergen- Your servant denied us a seat in your house." ' "The idiot!" "And I had a mind to see whether it was 'like maid like master:' for there is sooth in bywords." William Johnson blushed purple. He saw Margaret was keen, and suspected him. He did. the wisest thing under the circumstances, trusted to deeds not words, He insisted on their coming home withihiih at once, and he THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH 37 would show them whether they were welcome to Rotter- dam or not. "Who doubts it, cousin? Who doubts it?" said the scholar. Margaret thanked him graciously, but demurred to go just now: said she wanted to hear die minstrels again. In about a quarter of an hour Johnson renewed his proposal, and bade her observe that many of the guests had left. Then her real reason came out. "It were ill manners to our friend: and he will lose us. He knows ^not where we lodge in Rotterdam, and the city is large, and we have parted company once already." "Oh!" said Johnson, "we will provide for that. My young man, ahem! I mean my secretary, shall sit here and wait, and bring him on to my house: he shall lodge with me and with no other." "Cousin, we shall be too burdensome." "Nay, nay; you shall sec whether you are welcome, or not, you and your friends, and your friend's friends if need be: and I shall hear what the princess would with him." Margaret felt a thrill of joy that Gerard should be lodged under the same roof with her; then she had a slight misgiving. "But if your young man should be thoughtless, and go play, and Gerard miss him?" "He go play? He leave that spot where I put him? and bid hiin stay? Ho! Stand forth, Hans Cloterman." A figure clad in black serge and dark violet hose arose,, and took two steps and stood before them without mov- ing a muscle: a solemn, precise young man, the very statue of gravity and starched propriety. At his aspect,, Margaret, being very happy, could hardly keep her coun- tenance. But she whispered Johnson, "P would put my hand in the fire for him. We are at your command, cou sin, as soon as you have given him his orders." jS THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH Hans was then instructed to sit at the table and wait for Gerard, and conduct him to Ooster-Waagen Straet. He replied, not in words, but by calmly taking the seat indicated, and Margaret, Peter, and William Johnson went away together. "And, indeed, it is time you were abed, father, after all your travel," said Margaret. This had been in her mind all along; Hans Cloterman sat waiting for Gerard, solemn and business-like. The minutes flew by, but excited no impa- tience in that perfect young man. Johnson did him no more than justice when he laughed to scorn the idea of his secretary leaving his post, or neglecting his duty, in pur- suit of sport or out of youthful hilarity and frivolity. As Gerard was long in coming, the patient Hans — ^his employer's eye being no longer on him — ^improved the time by quaffing solemnly, silently, and at short but ac- curately measured intervals, goblets of Corsican wine. The wine was strong, so was Cloterman's head: and Ger- ard had been gone a good hour ere the model secretaty imbibed the notion that Creation expected Cloterman to drink the health of all good fellows, and "nommement" of tlie Duke of Burgundy there present. With this view he filled bumper nine, and rose gingerly but solemnly and slowly. Having reached his full height, he instantly rolled upon the grass, goblet in hand, spilling the cold liquor on more than one ankle — whose owners frisked^-but not dis- turbing a muscle in his own long face, which, in the total eclipse of reason, retained its gravity, primness, and in- fallibility. The seneschal led Gerard through several passages to the door of the pavilion, where some young noblemen, embroidered and feathered, sat sentinel, guarding the THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH 39 heir-apparent, and playing cards by the red Ught of torch- es their servants held. A whisper from the seneschal, and one of them rose reluctantly, stared at Gerard with haughty surprise, and entered the pavilion. He presendy returned, and, beckoning the pair, led them through a passage or two and landed them in an ante-chamber, where sat three more young gentlemen, feathered, furred, and embroidered like pieces of fancy work, and deep in that instructive and edifying branch of learning, dice. "You can't see the princess — it is too late," said one. Another followed suit : — "She passed this way but now with her nurse. She is gone to bed, doll and all. Deuce-ace again!" Gerard prepared to retire. The seneschal, with an in- credulous smile, replied: — "The young man is here by the countess's orders; be so good as conduct him to her ladies." On this a superb Adonis rose, with an injured look,, and led Gerard into a room where sat or lolloped eleven ladies, chattering like magpies. Two, more industrious than the rest, were playing cat's-cradle with fingers as nimble as their tongues. At the sight of a stranger all the tongues stopped like one piece of complicated machinery, and all the eyes turned on Gerard, as if the same string that checked the tongues had turned the eyes on. Ger- ard was ill at ease before, but this battery of eyes discount tenanced him, and down went his eyes on the ground. Then the cowards findings like the hare who ran by the pond and the frogs scuttled into the water, that there was a creature they could frighten, giggled and enjoyed their prowess. Then a duenna said, severely, "Mesdames!" and they were all abashed at once as though a modesty string had been pulled. This same duenna took Gerard, and marched before him in solemn silence. The young man's heart sank, and he had half a mind to turn and run out 40 THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH of the place. "What must princes be," he thought, "'when their courtiers are so freezing? Doubtless they take their breeding from him they serve." These reflections were interrupted by the duenna suddenly introducing him into a room where three ladies sat working, and a pretty little girl tuning a lute. The ladies were richly but not showily dressed, and the duenna went up to the one who was hemming a kerchief, and said a few words in a low tone. This lady then turned towards Gerard, with a smile, and beckoned, him to come near her. She did not rise, but she laid aside her work, and her manner of turning towards him,- sUght as the movement was, was full of grace and ease and courtesy. She began a conversation