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

  CHAPTER LXIII

  THE Princess Claelia ordered a full-length portrait of herself. Gerardadvised her to employ his friend Pietro Vanucci.

  But she declined. "'Twill be time to put a slight on the Gerardo, whenhis work discontents me." Then Gerard, who knew he was an excellentdraughtsman, but not so good a colourist, begged her to stand to him asa Roman statue. He showed her how closely he could mimic marble onpaper. She consented at first; but demurred when this enthusiastexplained to her that she must wear the tunic, toga, and sandals of theancients.

  "Why, I had as lieve be presented in my smock," said she, with mediaevalfrankness.

  "Alack! signorina," said Gerard, "you have surely never noted theancient habit; so free, so ample, so simple, yet so noble; and mostbecoming your highness, to whom Heaven hath given the Roman features,and eke a shapely arm and hand, hid in modern guise."

  "What, can you flatter, like the rest, Gerardo? Well, give me time tothink on't. Come o' Saturday, and then I will say ay or nay."

  The respite thus gained was passed in making the tunic and toga, &c.,and trying them on in her chamber, to see whether they suited her styleof beauty well enough to compensate their being a thousand years out ofdate.

  Gerard, hurrying along to this interview, was suddenly arrested, androoted to earth at a shop window.

  His quick eye had discerned in that window a copy of Lactantius, lyingopen. "That is fairly writ, any way," thought he.

  He eyed it a moment more with all his eyes.

  It was not written at all. It was printed.

  Gerard groaned. "I am sped; mine enemy is at the door. The press is inRome."

  He went into the shop, and, affecting nonchalance, inquired how long theprinting-press had been in Rome. The man said he believed there was nosuch thing in the city. "Oh, the Lactantius; that was printed on the topof the Apennines."

  "What, did the printing-press fall down there out o' the moon?"

  "Nay, messer," said the trader, laughing, "it shot up there out ofGermany. See the title-page!"

  Gerard took the Lactantius eagerly, and saw the following:--

  Opera et impensis Sweynheim et Pannartz Alumnorum Joannis Fust. Impressum Subiacis. A.D. 1465.

  "Will ye buy, messer? See how fair and even be the letters. Few are leftcan write like that; and scarce a quarter of the price."

  "I would fain have it," said Gerard, sadly; "but my heart will not letme. Know that I am a caligraph, and these disciples of Fust run after meround the world a-taking the bread out of my mouth. But I wish them noill. Heaven forbid!" And he hurried from the shop.

  "Dear Margaret," said he to himself, "we must lose no time; we must makeour hay while shines the sun. One month more and an avalanche ofprinter's type shall roll down on Rome from those Apennines, and lay uswaste that writers be."

  And he almost ran to the princess Claelia.

  He was ushered into an apartment new to him. It was not very large, butmost luxurious; a fountain played in the centre, and the floor wascovered with the skins of panthers, dressed with the hair, so that nofootfall could be heard. The room was an antechamber to the princess'sboudoir, for on one side there was no door, but an ample curtain ofgorgeous tapestry.

  Here Gerard was left alone till he became quite uneasy, and doubtedwhether the maid had not shown him to the wrong place.

  These doubts were agreeably dissipated.

  A light step came swiftly behind the curtain; it parted in the middle,and there stood a figure the heathens might have worshipped. It was notquite Venus, nor quite Minerva; but between the two; nobler than Venus,more womanly than Jupiter's daughter. Toga, tunic, sandals; nothing wasmodern. And as for beauty, that is of all times.

  Gerard started up, and all the artist in him flushed with pleasure.

  "Oh!" he cried, innocently, and gazed in rapture.

  This added the last charm to his model: a light blush tinted her cheeks,and her eyes brightened, and her mouth smiled with delicious complacencyat this genuine tribute to her charms.

  When they had looked at one another so some time, and she saw Gerard'seloquence was confined to ejaculating and gazing, she spoke. "Well,Gerardo, thou seest I have made myself an antique monster for thee."

  "A monster? I doubt Fra Colonna would fall down and adore your highness,seeing you so habited."

  "Nay, I care not to be adored by an old man. I would liever be loved bya young one: of my own choosing."

  Gerard took out his pencils, arranged his canvas, which he had coveredwith stout paper, and set to work; and so absorbed was he that he had nomercy on his model. At last, after near an hour in one posture,"Gerardo," said she, faintly, "I can stand so no more, even for thee."

  "Sit down and rest awhile, signora."

  "I thank thee," said she; and sinking into a chair turned pale andsighed.

  Gerard was alarmed, and saw also he had been inconsiderate. He tookwater from the fountain and was about to throw it in her face; but sheput up a white hand deprecatingly: "Nay, hold it to my brow with thinehand; prithee, do not fling it at me!"

  Gerard timidly and hesitating applied his wet hand to her brow.

  "Ah!" she sighed, "that is reviving. Again."

  He applied it again. She thanked him, and asked him to ring a littlehand-bell on the table. He did so, and a maid came, and was sent toFloretta with orders to bring a large fan.

  Floretta speedily came with the fan.

  She no sooner came near the princess, than that lady's high-brednostrils suddenly expanded like a blood horse's. "Wretch!" said she; andrising up with a sudden return to vigour, seized Floretta with her lefthand, twisted it in her hair, and with the right hand boxed her earsseverely three times.

  Floretta screamed and blubbered; but obtained no mercy.

  The antique toga left quite disengaged a bare arm, that now seemed aspowerful as it was beautiful: it rose and fell like the piston of amodern steam-engine, and heavy slaps resounded one after another onFloretta's shoulders; the last one drove her sobbing and screamingthrough the curtain, and there she was heard crying bitterly for sometime after.

  "Saints of heaven!" cried Gerard, "what is amiss? what hath she done?"

  "She knows right well. 'Tis not the first time. The nasty toad! I'lllearn her to come to me stinking of the musk-cat."

  "Alas! signora, 'twas a small fault, methinks."

  "A small fault? Nay, 'twas a foul fault." She added with an amazingsudden descent to humility and sweetness, "Are you wroth with me forbeating her, Gerar-do?"

  "Signora, it ill becomes me to school you; but methinks such as Heavenappoints to govern others should govern themselves."

  "That is true, Gerardo. How wise you are, to be so young." She thencalled the other maid, and gave her a little purse. "Take that toFloretta, and tell her 'the Gerardo' hath interceded for her; and so Imust needs forgive her. There, Gerardo."

  Gerard coloured all over at the compliment; but not knowing how to turna phrase equal to the occasion, asked her if he should resume herpicture.

  "Not yet; beating that hussy hath somewhat breathed me. I'll sit awhile,and you shall talk to me. I know you can talk, an it pleases you, asrarely as you draw."

  "That were easily done."

  "Do it then, Gerardo."

  Gerard was taken aback.

  "But, signora, I know not what to say. This is sudden."

  "Say your real mind. Say you wish you were anywhere but here."

  "Nay, signora, that would not be sooth. I wish one thing though."

  "Ay, and what is that?" said she, gently.

  "I wish I could have drawn you as you were beating that poor lass. Youwere awful, yet lovely. Oh, what a subject for a Pythoness!"

  "Alas! he thinks but of his art. And why keep such a coil about mybeauty, Gerardo? You are far fairer than I am. You are more like Apollothan I to Venus. Also, you have lovely hair, and lovely eyes--but youknow not what to do with them."

  "Ay, do I. To draw you, signora."
/>
  "Ah, yes; you can see my features with them; but you cannot see what anyRoman gallant had seen long ago in your place. Yet sure you must havenoted how welcome you are to me, Gerardo?"

  "I can see your highness is always passing kind to me; a poor strangerlike me."

  "No, I am not, Gerardo. I have often been cold to you; rude sometimes;and you are so simple you see not the cause. Alas! I feared for my ownheart. I feared to be your slave. I who have hitherto made slaves. Ah!Gerardo, I am unhappy. Ever since you came here I have lived upon yourvisits. The day you are to come I am bright. The other days I amlistless, and wish them fled. You are not like the Roman gallants. Youmake me hate them. You are ten times braver to my eye; and you are wiseand scholarly, and never flatter and lie. I scorn a man that lies.Gerar-do; teach me thy magic; teach me to make thee as happy by my sideas I am still by thine."

  As she poured out these strange words, the princess's mellow voice sunkalmost to a whisper, and trembled with half-suppressed passion, and herwhite hand stole timidly yet earnestly down Gerard's arm, till it restedlike a soft bird upon his wrist, and as ready to fly away at a word.

  Destitute of vanity and experience, wrapped up in his Margaret and hisart, Gerard had not seen this revelation coming, though it had come byregular and visible gradations.

  He blushed all over. His innocent admiration of the regal beauty thatbesieged him, did not for a moment displace the absent Margaret's image.Yet it was regal beauty, and wooing with a grace and tenderness he hadnever even figured in imagination. How to check her without woundingher?

  He blushed and trembled.

  The siren saw, and encouraged him. "Poor Gerardo," she murmured, "fearnot; none shall ever harm thee under my wing. Wilt not speak to me,Gerar-do mio?"

  "Signora!" muttered Gerard, deprecatingly.

  At this moment his eye, lowered in his confusion, fell on the shapelywhite arm and delicate hand that curled round his elbow like a tendervine, and it flashed across him how he had just seen that lovely limbemployed on Floretta.

  He trembled and blushed.

  "Alas!" said the princess, "I scare him. Am I then so very terrible? Isit my Roman robe? I'll doff it, and habit me as when thou first camestto me. Mindest thou? 'Twas to write a letter to yon barren knight Ecoled'Orsini. Shall I tell thee? 'twas the sight of thee, and thy prettyways, and thy wise words, made me hate him on the instant. I liked thefool well enough before; or wist I liked him. Tell me now how many timeshast thou been here since then. Ah! thou knowest not; lovest me not, Idoubt, as I love thee. Eighteen times, Gerardo. And each time dearer tome. The day thou comest not 'tis night not day, to Claelia. Alas! I speakfor both. Cruel boy, am I not worth a word? Hast every day a princess atthy feet? Nay, prithee, prithee, speak to me, Gerar-do."

  "Signora," faltered Gerard, "what can I say, that were not better leftunsaid? Oh evil day that ever I came here."

  "Ah! say not so. 'Twas the brightest day ever shone on me; or indeed onthee. I'll make thee confess so much ere long, ungrateful one."

  "Your highness," began Gerard, in a low, pleading voice.

  "Call me Claelia, Gerar-do."

  "Signora, I am too young and too little wise to know how I ought tospeak to you, so as not to seem blind nor yet ungrateful. But this Iknow, I were both naught and ungrateful, and the worst foe e'er you had,did I take advantage of this mad fancy. Sure some ill spirit hath hadleave to afflict you withal. For 'tis all unnatural that a princessadorned with every grace should abase her affections on a churl."

  The princess withdrew her hand slowly from Gerard's wrist.

  Yet as it passed lightly over his arm it seemed to linger a moment atparting.

  "You fear the daggers of my kinsmen," said she, half sadly, halfcontemptuously.

  "No more than I fear the bodkins of your women," said Gerard, haughtily."But I fear God and the saints, and my own conscience."

  "The truth, Gerardo, the truth! Hypocrisy sits awkwardly on thee.Princesses, while they are young, are not despised for love of God, butof some other woman. Tell me whom thou lovest: and if she is worthy theeI will forgive thee."

  "No she in Italy, upon my soul."

  "Ah! there is one somewhere, then. Where? where?"

  "In Holland, my native country."

  "Ah! Marie de Bourgoyne is fair, they say. Yet she is but a child."

  "Princess, she I love is not noble. She is as I am. Nor is she so fairas thou. Yet is she fair; and linked to my heart for ever by hervirtues, and by all the dangers and griefs we have borne together, andfor one another. Forgive me; but I would not wrong my Margaret for allthe highest dames in Italy."

  The slighted beauty started to her feet, and stood opposite him, asbeautiful, but far more terrible than when she slapped Floretta, forthen her cheeks were red, but now they were pale, and her eyes full ofconcentrated fury.

  "This to my face, unmannered wretch," she cried. "Was I born to beinsulted, as well as scorned, by such as thou? Beware! We nobles brookno rivals. Bethink thee whether is better, the love of a Cesarini, orher hate: for after all I have said and done to thee, it must be love orhate between us and to the death. Choose now!"

  He looked up at her with wonder and awe, as she stood towering over himin her Roman toga, offering this strange alternative.

  He seemed to have affronted a goddess of antiquity; he a poor punymortal.

  He sighed deeply, but spoke not.

  THE SLIGHTED BEAUTY STARTED TO HER FEET]

  Perhaps something in his deep and patient sigh touched a tender chord inthat ungoverned creature; or perhaps the time had come for one passionto ebb and another to flow. The princess sank languidly into a seat, andthe tears began to steal rapidly down her cheeks.

  "Alas! alas!" said Gerard. "Weep not, sweet lady; your tears they doaccuse me, and I am like to weep for company. My kind patron; beyourself! you will live to see how much better a friend I was to youthan I seemed."

  "I see it now, Gerardo," said the princess. "Friend is the word: theonly word can ever pass between us twain. I was mad. Any other man hadta'en advantage of my folly. You must teach me to be your friend andnothing more."

  Gerard hailed this proposition with joy; and told her out of Cicero howgodlike a thing was friendship, and how much better and rarer and morelasting than love: to prove to her he was capable of it, he even toldher about Denys and himself.

  She listened with her eyes half shut, watching his words to fathom hischaracter, and learn his weak point.

  At last, she addressed him calmly thus: "Leave me now, Gerardo; and comeas usual to-morrow. You will find your lesson well bestowed." She heldout her hand to him: he kissed it; and went away pondering deeply thisstrange interview, and wondering whether he had done prudently or not.

  The next day he was received with marked distance, and the princessstood before him literally like a statue, and after a very shortsitting, excused herself and dismissed him. Gerard felt the chillingdifference: but said to himself, "She is wise." So she was in her way.

  The next day, he found the princess waiting for him surrounded by youngnobles flattering her to the skies. She and they treated him like a dogthat could do one little trick they could not. The cavaliers inparticular criticised his work with a mass of ignorance and insolencecombined that made his cheeks burn.

  The princess watched his face demurely with half-closed eyes, at eachsting the insects gave him: and, when they had fled, had her doorsclosed against every one of them for their pains.

  The next day Gerard found her alone: cold, and silent. After standingto him so some time, she said, "You treated my company with less respectthan became you."

  "Did I, signora?"

  "Did you? you fired up at the comments they did you the honour to makeon your work."

  "Nay, I said nought," observed Gerard.

  "Oh, high looks speak as plain as high words. Your cheeks were red asblood."

  "I was nettled a moment at seeing so much ignorance and ill-naturetogether."

  "Now
it is me, their hostess, you affront."

  "Forgive me, signora, and acquit me of design. It would ill become me toaffront the kindest patron and friend I have in Rome--but one."

  "How humble we are all of a sudden. In sooth, Ser Gerardo, you are acapital feigner. You can insult or truckle at will."

  "Truckle? to whom?"

  "To me, for one; to one, whom you affronted for a base-born girl likeyourself: but whose patronage you claim all the same."

  Gerard rose, and put his hand to his heart. "These are biting words,signora. Have I really deserved them?"

  "Oh, what are words to an adventurer like you? cold steel is all youfear."

  "I am no swashbuckler, yet I have met steel with steel: and methinks Ihad rather face your kinsmen's swords than your cruel tongue, lady. Whydo you use me so?"

  "Gerar-do, for no good reason, but because I am wayward, and shrewish,and curst, and because everybody admires me but you."

  "I admire you too, signora. Your friends may flatter you more; butbelieve me they have not the eye to see half your charms. Their babbleyesterday showed me that. None admire you more truly, or wish youbetter, than the poor artist, who might not be your lover, but hoped tobe your friend: but no, I see that may not be between one so high asyou, and one so low as I."

  "Ay! but it shall, Gerardo," said the princess, eagerly. "I will not beso curst. Tell me now where abides thy Margaret; and I will give thee apresent for her; and on that you and I will be friends."

  "She is the daughter of a physician called Peter, and they bide atSevenbergen; ah me shall I e'er see it again?"

  "'Tis well. Now go." And she dismissed him somewhat abruptly.

  Poor Gerard. He began to wade in deep waters when he encountered thisItalian princess; callida et calida solis filia. He resolved to go nomore when once he had finished her likeness. Indeed he now regrettedhaving undertaken so long and laborious a task.

  This resolution was shaken for a moment by his next reception, which wasall gentleness and kindness.

  After standing to him some time in her toga, she said she was fatigued,and wanted his assistance in another way: would he teach her to draw alittle? He sat down beside her, and taught her to make easy lines. Hefound her wonderfully apt. He said so.

  "I had a teacher before thee, Gerar-do. Ay, and one as handsome asthyself." She then went to a drawer, and brought out several heads drawnwith a complete ignorance of the art, but with great patience andnatural talent. They were all heads of Gerard, and full of spirit: andreally not unlike. One was his very image.

  "There," said she. "Now thou seest who was my teacher."

  "Not I, signora."

  "What, know you not who teaches us women to do all things? 'Tis love,Gerar-do. Love made me draw because thou drawest, Gerar-do. Love printsthine image in my bosom. My fingers touch the pen, and love supplies thewant of art, and lo! thy beloved features lie upon the paper."

  Gerard opened his eyes with astonishment at this return to aninterdicted topic. "Oh, signora, you promised me to be friends andnothing more."

  She laughed in his face. "How simple you are; who believes a womanpromising nonsense, impossibilities? Friendship, foolish boy, who everbuilt that temple on red ashes? Nay, Gerardo," she added gloomily,"between thee and me it must be love or hate."

  "Which you will, signora," said Gerard, firmly. "But for me I willneither love nor hate you; but with your permission I will leave you."And he rose abruptly.

  She rose too pale as death, and said, "Ere thou leavest me so, know thyfate; outside that door are armed men who wait to slay thee at a wordfrom me."

  "But you will not speak that word, signora."

  "That word I will speak. Nay, more, I shall noise it abroad it was forproffering brutal love to me thou wert slain; and I will send a specialmessenger to Sevenbergen: a cunning messenger, well taught his lesson.Thy Margaret shall know thee dead, and think thee faithless; now, go tothy grave; a dog's. For a man thou art not."

  Gerard turned pale, and stood dumbstricken. "God have mercy on us both."

  "Nay, have thou mercy on her, and on thyself. She will never know inHolland what thou dost in Rome; unless I be driven to tell her my tale.Come, yield thee, Gerar-do mio: what will it cost thee to say thoulovest me? I ask thee but to feign it handsomely. Thou art young: dienot for the poor pleasure of denying a lady what--the shadow of a heart.Who will shed a tear for thee? I tell thee men will laugh, not weep,over thy tombstone--ah!" She ended in a little scream, for Gerard threwhimself in a moment at her feet, and poured out in one torrent ofeloquence the story of his love and Margaret's. How he had beenimprisoned, hunted with bloodhounds for her, driven to exile for her;how she had shed her blood for him, and now pined at home. How he hadwalked through Europe, environed by perils, torn by savage brutes,attacked by furious men, with sword and axe and trap, robbed,shipwrecked for her.

  The princess trembled, and tried to get away from him: but he held herrobe, he clung to her, he made her hear his pitiful story andMargaret's; he caught her hand, and clasped it between both his, and histears fell fast on her hand, as he implored her to think on all the woesof the true lovers she would part; and what but remorse, swift andlasting, could come of so deep a love betrayed, and so false a lovefeigned, with mutual hatred lurking at the bottom.

  In such moments none ever resisted Gerard.

  The princess, after in vain trying to get away from him, for she felthis power over her, began to waver, and sigh, and her bosom to rise andfall tumultuously, and her fiery eyes to fill.

  "You conquer me," she sobbed. "You, or my better angel. Leave Rome!"

  "I will, I will."

  "If you breath a word of my folly, it will be your last."

  "Think not so poorly of me. You are my benefactress once more. Is it forme to slander you?"

  "Go! I will send you the means. I know myself; if you cross my pathagain, I shall kill you. Addio; my heart is broken."

  She touched her bell. "Floretta," she said, in a choked voice, "take himsafe out of the house through my chamber and by the side poster."

  He turned at the door; she was leaning with one hand on a chair, crying,with averted head. Then he thought only of her kindness, and ran backand kissed her robe. She never moved.

  Once clear of the house he darted home, thanking Heaven for his escape,soul and body.

  "Landlady," said he, "there is one would pick a quarrel with me. What isto be done?"

  "Strike him first, and at vantage! Get behind him; and then draw."

  "Alas, I lack your Italian courage. To be serious, 'tis a noble."

  "Oh, holy saints, that is another matter. Change thy lodging awhile, andkeep snug; and alter the fashion of thy habits."

  She then took him to her own niece, who let lodgings at some littledistance, and installed him there.

  He had little to do now, and no princess to draw, so he set himselfresolutely to read that deed of Floris Brandt, from which he hadhitherto been driven by the abominably bad writing. He mastered it, andsaw at once that the loan on this land must have been paid over and overagain by the rents, and that Ghysbrecht was keeping Peter Brandt out ofhis own.

  "Fool! not to have read this before," he cried. He hired a horse androde down to the nearest port. A vessel was to sail for Amsterdam infour days.

  He took a passage; and paid a small sum to secure it.

  "The land is too full of cut-throats for me," said he; "and 'tis lovelyfair weather for the sea. Our Dutch skippers are not shipwrecked likethese bungling Italians."

  When he returned home there sat his old landlady with her eyessparkling.

  "You are in luck, my young master," said she. "All the fish run to yournet this day methinks. See what a lacquey hath brought to our house!This bill and this bag."

  Gerard broke the seals, and found it full of silver crowns. The lettercontained a mere slip of paper with this line, cut out of some MS.--"Lalingua non ha osso, ma fa rompere il dosso."

  "Fear me not!" said Gerard, aloud. "I'
ll keep mine between my teeth."

  "What is that?"

  "Oh, nothing. Am I not happy, dame? I am going back to my sweetheartwith money in one pocket, and land in the other." And he fell to dancingaround her.

  "Well," said she, "I trow nothing could make you happier."

  "Nothing, except to be there."

  "Well, that is a pity, for I thought to make you a little happier with aletter from Holland."

  "A letter? for me? where? how? who brought it? Oh, dame!"

  "A stranger; a painter, with a reddish face and an outlandish name;Anselmin, I trow."

  "Hans Memling? a friend of mine. God bless him!"

  "Ay, that is it; Anselmin. He could scarce speak a word, but a had thewit to name thee: and a puts the letter down, and a nods and smiles, andI nods and smiles, and gives him a pint o'wine, and it went down himlike a spoonful."

  "That is Hans, honest Hans. Oh, dame, I am in luck to-day: but I deserveit. For, I care not if I tell you, I have just overcome a greattemptation for dear Margaret's sake."

  "Who is she?"

  "Nay, I'd have my tongue cut out sooner than betray her, but oh it _was_a temptation. Gratitude pushing me wrong, Beauty almost divine pullingme wrong: curses, reproaches, and, hardest of all to resist, gentletears from eyes used to command. Sure some saint helped me; Anthonybelike. But my reward is come."

  "Ay, is it, lad; and no farther off than my pocket. Come out, Gerard'sreward," and she brought a letter out of her capacious pocket.

  Gerard threw his arm around her neck and hugged her. "My best friend,"said he, "my second mother, I'll read it to you."

  "Ay, do, do."

  "Alas! it is not from Margaret. This is not her hand." And he turned itabout.

  "Alack; but may be her bill is within. The lasses are aye for gliding intheir bills under cover of another hand."

  "True. Whose hand is this? sure I have seen it. I trow 'tis my dearfriend the demoiselle VanEyck. Oh, then Margaret's bill _will_ beinside." He tore it open. "Nay, 'tis all in one writing. 'Gerard, mywell beloved son,' (she never called me that before that I mind) 'thisletter brings thee heavy news from one would liever send thee joyfultidings. Know that Margaret Brandt died in these arms on Thursdaysennight last.' (What does the doting old woman mean by that?) 'The lastword on her lips was "Gerard:" she said "Tell him I prayed for him at mylast hour: and bid him pray for me." She died very comfortable, and Isaw her laid in the earth, for her father was useless, as you shallknow. So no more at present from her that is with sorrowing heart thyloving friend and servant,

  'MARGARET VANEYCK.'

  "Ay, that is her signature sure enough. Now what d'ye think of that,dame?" cried Gerard, with a grating laugh. "There is a pretty letter tosend to a poor fellow so far from home. But it is Reicht Heynes I blamefor humouring the old woman and letting her do it; as for the old womanherself, she dotes, she has lost her head, she is fourscore. Oh, myheart, I'm choking. For all that she ought to be locked up, or her handstied. Say this had come to a fool; say I was idiot enough to believethis; know ye what I should do? run to the top of the highest churchtower in Rome and fling myself off it, cursing Heaven. Woman! woman!what are you doing?" And he seized her rudely by the shoulder. "What areye weeping for?" he cried in a voice all unlike his own, and loud andhoarse as a raven. "Would ye scald me to death with your tears? Shebelieves it. She believes it. Ah! ah! ah! ah! ah! ah!--Then there is noGod."

  * * * * *

  The poor woman sighed and rocked herself. "And must I be the one tobring it thee all smiling and smirking? I could kill myself for't. Deathspares none," she sobbed. "Death spares none."

  Gerard staggered against the window sill. "But He is master of death,"he groaned. "Or they have taught me a lie. I begin to fear there is noGod, and the saints are but dead bones, and hell is master of the world.My pretty Margaret; my sweet, my loving Margaret. The best daughter, thetruest lover! the pride of Holland! the darling of the world! It is alie. Where is this caitiff Hans? I'll hunt him round the town. I'll cramhis murdering falsehood down his throat."

  And he seized his hat and ran furiously about the streets for hours.

  Towards sunset he came back white as a ghost. He had not found Memling:but his poor mind had had time to realize the woman's simple words, thatDeath spares none.

  He crept into the house bent, and feeble as an old man, and refused allfood. Nor would he speak, but sat, white, with great staring eyes,muttering at intervals "there is no God."

  Alarmed both on his account and on her own (for he looked a desperatemaniac), his landlady ran for her aunt.

  The good dame came, and the two women, braver together, sat one on eachside of him, and tried to soothe him with kind and consoling voices. Buthe heeded them no more than the chairs they sat on. Then the youngerheld a crucifix out before him, to aid her. "Maria, mother of heaven,comfort him," they sighed. But he sat glaring, deaf to all externalsounds.

  Presently, without any warning, he jumped up, struck the crucifix rudelyout of his way with a curse and made a headlong dash at the door. Thepoor women shrieked. But, ere he reached the door, something seemed tothem to draw him up straight by his hair, and twirl him round like atop. He whirled twice around with arms extended; then fell like a deadlog upon the floor, with blood trickling from his nostrils and ears.