CHAPTER XLVII
Denys took an opportunity next day and told mother and daughter therest, excusing himself characteristically for not letting Cornelis andSybrandt hear of it. "It is not for me to blacken them; they come ofa good stock. But Gerard looks on them as no friends of his in thismatter; and I'm Gerard's comrade and it is a rule with us soldiers notto tell the enemy aught--but lies."
Catherine sighed, but made no answer.
The adventures he related cost them a tumult of agitation and grief, andsore they wept at the parting of the friends, which even now Denys couldnot tell without faltering. But at last all merged in the joyful hopeand expectation of Gerard's speedy return. In this Denys confidentlyshared; but reminded them that was no reason why he should neglect hisfriend's wishes and last words. In fact, should Gerard return next week,and no Margaret to be found, what sort of figure should he cut?
Catherine had never felt so kindly towards the truant Margaret as now;and she was fully as anxious to find her, and be kind to her beforeGerard's return, as Denys was; but she could not agree with him thatanything was to be gained by leaving this neighbourhood to search forher. "She must have told somebody whither she was going. It is notas though they were dishonest folk flying the country; they owe not astiver in Sevenbergen; and dear heart, Denys, you can't hunt all Hollandfor her."
"Can I not?" said Denys grimly. "That we shall see." He added, aftersome reflection, that they must divide their forces; she stay here witheyes and ears wide open, and he ransack every town in Holland for her,if need be. "But she will not be many leagues from here. They be three.Three fly not so fast, nor far, as one."
"That is sense," said Catherine. But she insisted on his going first tothe demoiselle Van Eyck. "She and our Margaret were bosom friends. Sheknows where the girl is gone, if she will but tell us." Denys was forgoing to her that instant, so Catherine, in a turn of the hand, madeherself one shade neater, and took him with her.
She was received graciously by the old lady sitting in a richlyfurnished room; and opened her business. The tapestry dropped out ofMargaret Van Eyck's hands. "Gone? Gone from Sevenbergen and not told me;the thankless girl."
This turn greatly surprised the visitors. "What, you know not? when wasshe here last?"
"Maybe ten days agone. I had ta'en out my brushes, after so many years,to paint her portrait. I did not do it, though; for reasons."
Catherine remarked it was "a most strange thing she should go away bagand baggage like this, without with your leave or by your leave, why, orwherefore. Was ever aught so untoward; just when all our hearts are warmto her; and here is Gerard's mate come from the ends of the earth withcomfort for her from Gerard, and can't find her, and Gerard himselfexpected. What to do I know not. But sure she is not parted like thiswithout a reason. Can ye not give us the clue, my good demoiselle?Prithee now.
"I have it not to give," said the elder lady, rather peevishly.
"Then I can," said Reicht Heynes, showing herself in the doorway, withcolour somewhat heightened.
"So you have been hearkening all the time, eh?"
"What are my ears for, mistress?"
"True. Well, throw us the light of thy wisdom on this dark matter."
"There is no darkness that I see," said Reicht. "And the clue, why, anye call't a two-plye twine, and the ends on't in this room e'en now,ye'll not be far out. Oh, mistress, I wonder at you sitting therepretending."
"Marry, come up." and the mistress's cheek was now nearly as red as theservant's. "So 'twas I drove the foolish girl away."
"You did your share, mistress. What sort of greeting gave you herlast time she came? Think you she could miss to notice it, and she allfriendless? And you said, 'I have altered my mind about painting ofyou,' says you, a turning up your nose at her."
"I did not turn up my nose. It is not shaped like yours for lookingheavenward."
"Oh, all our nosen can follow our heartys bent, for that matter. Poorsoul. She did come into the kitchen to me. 'I am not to be painted now,'said she, and the tears in her eyes. She said no more. But I knew wellwhat she did mean. I had seen ye."
"Well," said Margaret Van Eyck, "I do confess so much, and I make youthe judge, madam. Know that these young girls can do nothing of theirown heads, but are most apt at mimicking aught their sweethearts do. Nowyour Gerard is reasonably handy at many things, and among the rest atthe illuminator's craft. And Margaret she is his pupil, and a patientone: what marvel? having a woman's eye for colour, and eke a lover toape. 'Tis a trick I despise at heart: for by it the great art of colour,which should be royal, aspiring, and free, becomes a poor slave to thepetty crafts of writing and printing, and is fettered, imprisoned, andmade little, body and soul, to match the littleness of books, and go tochurch in a rich fool's pocket. Natheless affection rules us all, andwhen the poor wench would bring me her thorn leaves, and lilies, andivy, and dewberries, and ladybirds, and butterfly grubs, and all thescum of Nature-stuck fast in gold-leaf like wasps in a honey-pot, andwithal her diurnal book, showing she had pored an hundred, or an hundredand fifty, or two hundred hours over each singular page, certes I waswroth that an immortal soul, and many hours of labour, and much manualskill, should be flung away on Nature's trash, leaves, insects, grubs,and on barren letters; but, having bowels, I did perforce restrain, andas it were, dam my better feelings, and looked kindly at the work tosee how it might be bettered; and said I, 'Sith Heaven for our sinshath doomed us to spend time, and soul, and colour on great letters andlittle beetles, omitting such small fry as saints and heroes, theiracts and passions, why not present the scum naturally?' I told her 'thegrapes I saw, walking abroad, did hang i' the air, not stick in a wall;and even these insects,' quo' I, 'and Nature her slime in general, passnot their noxious lives wedged miserably in metal prisons like fliesin honey-pots and glue-pots, but do crawl or hover at large, infestingair.' 'Ah my dear friend,' says she, 'I see now whither you drive; butthis ground is gold; whereon we may not shade.' 'Who said so?' quothI. 'All teachers of this craft,' says she; and (to make an end o' me atonce, I trow) 'Gerard himself!' 'That for Gerard himself,' quoth I, 'andall the gang; gi'e me a brush!'
"Then chose I, to shade her fruit and reptiles, a colour false innature, but true relatively to that monstrous ground of glaring gold;and in five minutes out came a bunch of raspberries, stalk and all, anda'most flew in your mouth; likewise a butterfly grub she had so trulypresented as might turn the stoutest stomach. My lady she flings herarms round my neck, and says she, 'Oh!'"
"Did she now?"
"The little love!" observed Denys, succeeding at last in wedging in aword.
Margaret Van Eyck stared at him; and then smiled. She went on to tellthem how from step to step she had been led on to promise to resume theart she had laid aside with a sigh when her brothers died, and to paintthe Madonna once more--with Margaret for model. Incidentally she evenrevealed how girls are turned into saints. "Thy hair is adorable," saidI. "Why, 'tis red," quo' she. "Ay," quoth I, "but what a red! how brown!how glossy! most hair is not worth a straw to us painters; thine theartist's very hue. But thy violet eyes, which smack of earth, being nowlanguid for lack of one Gerard, now full of fire in hopes of the sameGerard, these will I lift to heaven in fixed and holy meditation, andthy nose, which doth already somewhat aspire that way (though not sopiously as Reicht's), will I debase a trifle, and somewhat enfeeble thychin."
"Enfeeble her chin? Alack! what may that mean? Ye go beyond me,mistress."
"'Tis a resolute chin. Not a jot too resolute for this wicked world; butwhen ye come to a Madonna? No thank you."
"Well I never. A resolute chin."
Denys. "The darling!"
"And now comes the rub. When you told me she was--the way she is, itgave me a shock; I dropped my brushes. Was I going to turn a girl, thatcouldn't keep her lover at a distance, into the Virgin Mary, at my timeof life? I love the poor ninny still. But I adore our blessed Lady.Say you, 'a painter must not be peevish in such matters'? Well, mostpainters are
men; and men are fine fellows. They can do aught. Theirsaints and virgins are neither more nor less than their lemans, savingyour presence. But know that for this very reason half their craftis lost on me, which find beneath their angels' white wings the verytrollops I have seen flaunting it on the streets, bejewelled like Paynimidols, and put on like the queens in a pack o' cards. And I am not afine fellow, but only a woman, and my painting is but one half craft,and t'other half devotion. So now you may read me. 'Twas foolish,maybe, but I could not help it; yet am I sorry." And the old lady endeddespondently a discourse which she had commenced in a'mighty defianttone.
"Well, you know, dame," observed Catherine, "you must think it would goto the poor girl's heart, and she so fond of ye?"
Margaret Van Eyck only sighed.
The Frisian girl, after biting her lips impatiently a little while,turned upon Catherine. "Why, dame, think you 'twas for that aloneMargaret and Peter hath left Sevenbergen? Nay."
"For what else, then?"
"What else? Why, because Gerard's people slight her so cruel. Who wouldbide among hard-hearted folk that ha' driven her lad t' Italy, and nowhe is gone, relent not, but face it out, and ne'er come anigh her thatis left?"
"Reicht, I was going."
"Oh, ay, going, and going, and going. Ye should ha' said less or elsedone more. But with your words you did uplift her heart and let it downwi' your deeds. 'They have never been,' said the poor thing to me, withsuch a sigh. Ay, here is one can feel for her: for I too am far from myfriends, and often, when first I came to Holland, I did used to take ahearty cry all to myself. But ten times liever would I be Reicht Heyneswith nought but the leagues atw'een me and all my kith, than be as sheis i' the midst of them that ought to warm to her, and yet to fare aslonesome as I."
"Alack, Reicht, I did go but yestreen, and had gone before, but oneplaguy thing or t'other did still come and hinder me."
"Mistress, did aught hinder ye to eat your dinner any one of those days?I trow not. And had your heart been as good towards your own flesh andblood, as 'twas towards your flesher's meat, nought had prevailed tokeep you from her that sat lonely, a watching the road for you andcomfort, wi' your child's child a beating 'neath her bosom."
Here this rude young woman was interrupted by an incident not uncommonin a domestic's bright existence. The Van Eyck had been nettled by theattack on her, but with due tact had gone into ambush. She now sprangout of it. "Since you disrespect my guests, seek another place!"
"With all my heart," said Reicht stoutly.
"Nay, mistress," put in the good-natured Catherine. "True folk willstill speak out. Her tongue is a stinger." Here the water came intothe speaker's eyes by way of confirmation. "But better she said it thanthought it. So now 't won't rankle in her. And part with her for me,that shall ye not. Beshrew the wench, she wots she is a good servant,and takes advantage. We poor wretches which keep house must still pay'em tax for value. I had a good servant once, when I was a youngwoman. Eh dear, how she did grind me down into the dust. In the end,by Heaven's mercy, she married the baker, and I was my own woman again.'So,' said I, 'no more good servants shall come hither, a hectoring o'me.' I just get a fool and learn her; and whenever she knoweth her righthand from her left, she sauceth me: then out I bundle her neck andcrop, and take another dunce in her place. Dear heart, 'tis wearisome,teaching a string of fools by ones; but there--I am mistress:" here sheforgot that she was defending Reicht, and turning rather spitefully uponher, added, "and you be mistress here, I trow."
"No more than that stool," said the Van Eyck loftily. "She is neithermistress nor servant; but Gone. She is dismissed the house, and there'san end of her. What, did ye not hear me turn the saucy baggage off?"
"Ay, ay. We all heard ye," said Reicht, with vast indifference.
"Then hear me!" said Denys solemnly.
They all went round like things on wheels, and fastened their eyes onhim.
"Ay, let us hear what the man says," urged the hostess. "Men are finefellows, with their great hoarse voices."
"Mistress Reicht," said Denys, with great dignity and ceremony, indeedso great as to verge on the absurd, "you are turned off. If on a slightacquaintance I might advise, I'd say, since you are a servant no more,be a mistress, a queen."
"Easier said than done," replied Reicht bluntly.
"Not a jot. You see here one who is a man, though but half anarbalestrier, owing to that devilish Englishman's arrow, in whosecarcass I have, however, left a like token, which is a comfort. I havetwenty gold pieces" (he showed them) "and a stout arm. In anotherweek or so I shall have twain. Marriage is not a habit of mine; butI capitulate to so many virtues. You are beautiful, good-hearted, andoutspoken, and above all, you take the part of my she-comrade. Be thenan arbalestriesse!"
"And what the dickens is that?" inquired Reicht.
"I mean, be the wife, mistress, and queen of Denys of Burgundy herepresent."
A dead silence fell on all.
It did not last long, though; and was followed by a burst ofunreasonable indignation.
Catherine. "Well, did you ever?"
Margaret. "Never in all my born days."
Catherine. "Before our very faces."
Margaret. "Of all the absurdity, and insolence of this ridiculous sex--"
Then Denys observed somewhat drily, that the female to whom he hadaddressed himself was mute; and the others, on whose eloquence there wasno immediate demand, were fluent: on this the voices stopped, and theeyes turned pivot-like upon Reicht.
She took a sly glance from under her lashes at her military assailant,and said, "I mean to take a good look at any man ere I leap into hisarms."
Denys drew himself up majestically. "Then look your fill, and leapaway."
This proposal led to a new and most unexpected result. A long whitefinger was extended by the Van Eyck in a line with the speaker's eye,and an agitated voice bade him stand, in the name of all the saints."You are beautiful, so," cried she. "You are inspired--with folly. Whatmatters that? you are inspired. I must take off your head." And in amoment she was at work with her pencil. "Come out, hussy," she screamedto Reicht, "more in front of him, and keep the fool inspired andbeautiful. Oh, why had I not this maniac for my good centurion? Theywent and brought me a brute with a low forehead and a shapeless beard."
Catherine stood and looked with utter amazement at this pantomime,and secretly resolved that her venerable hostess had been a disguisedlunatic all this time, and was now busy throwing off the mask. Asfor Reicht, she was unhappy and cross. She had left her caldron in aprecarious state, and made no scruple to say so, and that duties sograve as hers left her no "time to waste a playing the statee and thefool all at one time." Her mistress in reply reminded her that it waspossible to be rude and rebellious to one's poor, old, affectionate,desolate mistress, without being utterly heartless and savage; and atrampler on arts.
On this Reicht stopped, and pouted, and looked like a little basiliskat the inspired model who caused her woe. He retorted with unshakenadmiration. The situation was at last dissolved by the artist's wristbecoming cramped from disuse; this was not, however, until she had madea rough but noble sketch. "I can work no more at present," said shesorrowfully.
"Then, now, mistress, I may go and mind my pot?"
"Ay, ay, go to your pot! And get into it, do; you will find your soul init: so then you will all be together."
"Well, but, Reicht," said Catherine, laughing, "she turned you off."
"Boo, boo, boo!" said Reicht contemptuously. "When she wants to get ridof me, let her turn herself off and die. I am sure she is old enoughfor't. But take your time, mistress; if you are in no hurry, no more amI. When that day doth come, 'twill take a man to dry my eyes; and if youshould be in the same mind then, soldier, you can say so; and if you arenot, why, 'twill be all one to Reicht Heynes."
And the plain speaker went her way. But her words did not fall to theground. Neither of her female hearers could disguise from herself thatthis blunt girl, solitary h
erself, had probably read Margaret Brandtaright, and that she had gone away from Sevenbergen broken-hearted.
Catherine and Denys bade the Van Eyck adieu, and that same afternoonDenys set out on a wild goose chase. His plan, like all great things,was simple. He should go to a hundred towns and villages, and ask ineach after an old physician with a fair daughter, and an old long-bowsoldier. He should inquire of the burgomasters about all new-comers, andshould go to the fountains and watch the women and girls as they camewith their pitchers for water.
And away he went, and was months and months on the tramp, and could notfind her.
Happily, this chivalrous feat of friendship was in some degree its ownreward.
Those who sit at home blindfolded by self-conceit, and think camelor man out of the depths of their inner consciousness, alias theirignorance, will tell you that in the intervals of war and danger, peaceand tranquil life acquire their true value and satisfy the heroic mind.But those who look before they babble or scribble will see and saythat men who risk their lives habitually thirst for exciting pleasuresbetween the acts of danger, are not for innocent tranquility.
To this Denys was no exception. His whole military life had beenhalf sparta, half Capua. And he was too good a soldier and too good alibertine to have ever mixed either habit with the other. But now forthe first time he found himself mixed; at peace and yet on duty; forhe took this latter view of his wild goose chase, luckily. So all thesemonths he was a demi-Spartan; sober, prudent, vigilant, indomitable; andhappy, though constantly disappointed, as might have been expected. Heflirted gigantically on the road; but wasted no time about it. Nor inthese his wanderings did he tell a single female that "marriage was notone of his habits, etc."
And so we leave him on the tramp, "Pilgrim of Friendship," as his poorcomrade was of Love.
The Cloister and the Hearth Page 47