diff options
Diffstat (limited to '37668.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 37668.txt | 7381 |
1 files changed, 7381 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/37668.txt b/37668.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ea0abca --- /dev/null +++ b/37668.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7381 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Flemish Legends, by Charles de Coster + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Flemish Legends + +Author: Charles de Coster + +Illustrator: Albert Delstanche + +Translator: Harold Taylor + +Release Date: October 8, 2011 [EBook #37668] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FLEMISH LEGENDS *** + + + + +Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net/ for Project +Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously +made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + FLEMISH LEGENDS + By CHARLES DE COSTER + + With eight woodcuts by + Albert Delstanche + + Translated from the French + By Harold Taylor + + + London: Chatto & Windus + MCMXX + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + Page + I. The Brotherhood of the Cheerful Countenance 1 + II. The Three Sisters 31 + III. Sir Halewyn 43 + IV. Smetse Smee 101 + + + + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + The Church of Haeckendover Frontispiece + The Little Stone Boy Facing page 6 + The Man in White 52 + Sir Halewyn in the Wood 64 + The Song of the Head 92 + Smetse caught by the Two Branches 108 + In Smetse's Garden 126 + The Devil-King and the Sack 150 + + + + + + + +TRANSLATOR'S NOTE + + +There never was a book which needed less of an introduction than this +one, unless it is that it should have an apology from the translator +for his handling of so beautiful an original. But since so little is +generally known of these Legends and their author a word of information +may be demanded. + +Charles de Coster flourished in the middle part of the last century. He +was brought up in the court of a great dignitary of the Roman Church, +and intended for the aristocratic University of Louvain, but showed +early his independent and democratic turn of mind by preferring +the more popular University of Brussels, to which he made his own +way. Here he fell in with a group of fellow-students and artistic +enthusiasts which included Felicien Rops, with whom he was associated +in a society called Les Joyeux, and afterwards in a short-lived Review, +to which they gave the name of that traditional Belgian figure of +joyousness and high spirits, Uylenspiegel. It was in this that these +Legends first appeared, written in the years 1856 and 1857, and soon +afterwards published in book form. + +Belgian literature was not at that time in a very flourishing +condition, and little general appreciation was shown of de Coster's +work, but it was hailed with enthusiasm by a few of the more +discerning critics, and won him a place on a Royal Commission which +was investigating mediaeval state papers. After publishing another book, +Contes brabancons, likewise based on the folk-lore of his country, he +seems to have withdrawn into himself and led the life of a dreamer, +wandering about among the peasants and burying himself in the wide +countryside of Flanders, until he had completed his epic of the +Spanish tyranny, Ulenspiegel, which has already been translated into +English. None of these publications brought him any material recompense +for his work, and he remained a poor man to the end of his life, in +constant revolt against what he called the horrible power of money. [1] + +The primitive stuff of these Legends is to be found scattered up and +down, a piece here and a piece there, in the folk-lore of Brabant +and Flanders. De Coster, who had an intense love of this folk-lore +and at the same time, as he said, "that particular kind of madness +which is needed for such writing," set himself to give it a literary +form. He has chosen to make that form so elaborate, and has worked +his material to so fine a composition, that he must be considered +to have produced an entirely original book. But he has not been +unfaithful to his masters the people. Sir Halewyn, for instance, +follows an old song. And the Faust-story of Smetse Smee, the jovial +and ingenious smith, who gets the better of his bargain with the +devil in so wholly satisfactory a fashion, crops up in one form or +another again and again. + +The Legends were written in the idiom of the sixteenth century, the +period to which the latest and longest of them roughly belongs. I +believe that no more perfect example of pastiche exists in the +language. But that is not of much interest to English readers, and +I have made no attempt to reproduce the achievement. De Coster found +modern French, with its rigidity of form, unsuitable to his subject +and inapt to his genius. He seems to have had a mind so perfectly in +tune with the Middle Ages that one may well believe that he found it +actually more natural to write in the still fluid language of Rabelais +than in that of his own day. The prose of the original is of arresting +beauty, especially in Sir Halewyn; which, with its peculiarly Flemish +tale of faery and enchantment, still beauty and glowing hearths, +and the sombreness of northern forests brooding over them, I feel +to be the high-water mark of his achievement. At times it becomes so +rhythmic that one can hardly decide whether it is prose or poetry. It +is not difficult to believe Potvin's report that de Coster spent an +immense amount of pains on his work, sometimes doing a page twenty +times over before he was content to let it go. + +De Coster has been spoken of as a mouthpiece of +Protestantism. Protestant, of course, is the last word in the world to +describe him. No one can have regretted much more than he the passing +of that warm-hearted time before the Reformation. One has but to read +the story of the building of the church at Haeckendover in The Three +Sisters, or the prayer of the girl Wantje to the Virgin in the tale +of the hilarious Brotherhood to see how far this is true. It is only +in Smetse Smee, when he comes to the time of the Inquisition, that he +bursts out with that stream of invective and monstrous mockery which +made the Polish refugee Karski say of him, "Well roared, Fleming!" And +even then it is Spain rather than Catholicism which is the centre of +his attack, and Philip II who is his aiming-point. + +Above all and before all de Coster loved the simple peasant-people +of his own land, with their frank interest in good things to eat +and good beer to drink, their aptitude for quarrelling and their +great hearts. All his chief portraits are painted from them. The +old homely nobility of Flanders, such as were the people of Heurne +in the tale of Halewyn, he liked well enough, but he could not bear +a rich man or a distant-mannered master of the Spanish type. A tale +is told of him and his painter friend Dillens which may well stand +as the key to his work. One day at Carnival-time they were in Ghent, +and when the evening came Dillens asked what they should do. "Voir +le peuple!" cried de Coster, "le peuple surtout! La bourgeoisie est +la meme partout! Va voir le peuple!" + + +H. T. + + + + + + + +THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE CHEERFUL COUNTENANCE + + +I. Of the sorrowful voice which Pieter Gans heard in his garden, +and of the flame running over the grass. + +In the days when the Good Duke ruled over Brabant, there was to be +found at Uccle, with its headquarters in the tavern of The Horn, a +certain Brotherhood of the Cheerful Countenance, aptly enough so named, +for every one of the Brothers had a wonderfully jolly face, finished +off, as a sign of good living, with two chins at the least. That was +the young ones; but the older ones had more. + +You shall hear, first of all, how this Brotherhood was founded: + +Pieter Gans, host of this same Horn, putting off his clothes one +night to get into bed, heard in his garden a sorrowful voice, wailing: +"My tongue is scorching me. Drink! Drink! I shall die of thirst." + +Thinking at first that it was some drunkard below, he continued to +get into bed quietly, notwithstanding the voice, which kept crying +out in the garden: "Drink! Drink! I shall die of thirst." But this +persisted so long and in so melancholy a manner that at last Pieter +Gans must needs get up and go to the window to see who it might be +making so much noise. Thence he saw a long flame, of great brightness +and strange upstanding shape, running over the grass; and, thinking +that it must be some poor soul from purgatory in need of prayers, +he set about repeating litanies, and went through above a hundred, +but all in vain, for the voice never ceased crying out as before: +"Drink! Drink! I shall die of thirst." + +After cock-crow he heard no more, and looking out again he saw with +great satisfaction that the flame had disappeared. + +When morning came he went straightway to the church. There he told the +story of these strange happenings to the priest, and caused a fair mass +to be said for the repose of the poor soul; gave a golden peter to the +clerk so that others might be said later, and returned home reassured. + +But on the following night the voice began its wailing anew, as +lamentably as if it were that of a dying man hindered from dying. And +so it went on night after night. + +Whence it came about that Pieter Gans grew moody and morose. + +Those who had known him in former days, rubicund, carrying a good +paunch and a joyous face, wont to tell his matins with bottles and +his vespers with flagons, would certainly never have recognized him. + +For he grew so wizened, dried up, thin, and of such piteous appearance +that dogs used to start barking at the sight of him, as they do at +beggars with their bundles. + + + + +II. How Jan Blaeskaek gave good counsel to Pieter Gans, and wherein +covetousness is sadly punished. + +It so happened that while he was moping after this fashion, passing +his days in misery and without any joy of them, alone in a corner +like a leper, there came to the inn a certain Master Jan Blaeskaek, +brewer of good beer, a hearty fellow, and of a jovial turn of mind. + +This visitor, seeing Pieter Gans looking at him nervously and +shamefacedly, wagging his head like an old man, went up to him and +shook him: "Come," said he, "wake up, my friend, it gives me no +pleasure to see thee sitting there like a corpse!" + +"Alas," answered Pieter Gans, "I am not worth much more now, +my master." + +"And whence," said Blaeskaek, "hast thou gotten all this black +melancholy?" + +To which Pieter Gans made answer: "Come away to some place where none +will hear us. There I will tell thee the whole tale." + +This he did. When Blaeskaek had heard to the end he said: "'Tis no +Christian soul that cries in this manner, but the voice of a devil. It +must be appeased. Therefore go thou and fetch from thy cellar a good +cask of ale, and roll it out into the garden, to the place where thou +didst see the flame shining." + +"That I will," said Pieter Gans. But at vespers, thinking to himself +that ale was precious stuff to set before devils, he put instead in +that place a great bowl of clear water. + +Towards midnight he heard a voice more sorrowful than ever, calling +out: "Drink! Drink! I shall die of thirst." + +And he saw the bright flame dancing furiously over the bowl, which +was suddenly broken with a loud report, and this in so violent a +manner that the pieces flew up against the windows of the house. + +Then he began to sweat with terror and weep aloud, saying: "Now +'tis all over, dear God, all over with me. Oh, that I had followed +the advice of the wise Blaeskaek, for he is a man of good counsel, +of excellent counsel! Master Devil, who are so thirsty, do not kill +me to-night; to-morrow you shall drink good ale, Master Devil. Ah, +'tis ale of fair repute throughout the land, this ale, fit for kings +or for good devils like yourself!" + +Nevertheless the voice continued to wail: "Drink! Drink!" + +"There, there! Have a little patience, Master Devil; to-morrow you +shall drink my best ale. It cost me many a golden peter, my master, +and I will give you a whole barrelful. Do you not see that you must not +strangle me to-night, but rather to-morrow if I do not keep my word." + +And after this fashion he wept and cried out until cock-crow. Then, +finding that he was not dead, he said his matins with a better heart. + +At sun-up he went down himself to fetch the cask of ale from his +cellar, and placed it in the middle of the grass, saying: "Here is +the freshest and the best drink I have; I am no niggard. So have pity +on me, Master Devil." + + + + +III. Of the songs, voices, mewlings, and sounds of kisses which Pieter +Gans and Blaeskaek heard in the garden, and of the brave mien wherewith +Master Merry-face sat on the cask of stone. + +At the third hour Blaeskaek came down and asked for news. Pieter Gans +told his tale, and as he was about to go away again drew him aside +and said: "I have kept this secret from my servants, lest they should +go and blab about it to the priests, and so I am as good as alone in +the house. Do not therefore leave me, for it may happen that some +evil will come of the business, and 'twould be well to have a good +stomach in case of such event. Alone I should certainly have none, +but together we shall have enough for both. It would be as well, then, +to fortify ourselves against this assault on our courage. Instead of +sleeping we will eat and drink heartily." + +"For that," said Blaeskaek, "I am as ready as thou." + +Towards midnight the two comrades, tippling in a low room, fortified +with good eating, but not without some apprehension nevertheless, heard +the same voice outside, no longer sorrowful, but joyous, singing songs +in a strange tongue; and there followed divers sweet chants, such as +angels might sing (speaking with proper respect to them all), who in +Paradise had drunken too much ambrosia, voices of women celestially +soft, mewlings of tigers, sighs, noise of embraces and lovers' kisses. + +"Ho, ho!" cried Pieter Gans, "what is this, dear Jesus? They are devils +for a certainty. They will empty my cask altogether. And when they find +my ale so good they will want more of it, and come crying every night +and shouting louder than ever: 'Drink! Drink!' And I shall be ruined, +alas, alas! Come, friend Blaeskaek"--and so saying he pulled out his +kuyf, which is, as you may know, a strong knife well sharpened--"Come, +we must drive them off by force! But alone I have not the courage." + +"I will come with you," said Blaeskaek, "but not until a little later, +at cock-crow. They say that after that hour devils cannot bite." + +Before the sun rose the cock crew. + +And he had, that morning, so martial a tone that you would have +thought it a trumpet sounding. + +And hearing this trumpet all the devils suddenly put a stop to their +drinking and singing. + +Pieter Gans and Blaeskaek were overjoyed at that, and ran out into +the garden in haste. + +Pieter Gans, hurrying to look for his cask of ale, found it changed +into stone, and on top of it, sitting horseback fashion, what +seemed to be a young boy, quite naked, a fair, sweet little boy, +gaily crowned with vine-leaves, with a bunch of grapes hanging over +one ear, and in his right hand a staff with a fir-cone at the tip, +and grapes and vine-branches twined round it. + +And although this little boy was made of stone, he had all the +appearance of being alive, so merry a countenance had he. + +Greatly alarmed were Gans and Blaeskaek at the sight of this personage. + +And fearing both the wrath of the devil and the punishment of the +Church, and swearing together to say no word about it to any one, +they put the figure (which was but a few thumbs high) in a dark cellar +where there was no drink kept. + + + + +IV. Wherein the two worthy men set out for Brussels, capital city +of Brabant, and of the manners and condition of Josse Cartuyvels +the Apothecary. + +Having done so much they set out together for Brussels, there to +consult an old man, apothecary by trade, something of a glutton, +but liked well enough by the common folk on account of a certain +hotch-potch he made, well seasoned with rare herbs, for which he +asked a not unreasonable price. He was reputed by the devout to have +commerce with the devil, on account of the miraculous cures which he +effected in both man and beast by means of his herbs. Furthermore, +he sold beer, which he bought from Blaeskaek. And he was hideous to +look at, gouty, wizened, yellow as a guinea, wrinkled as an old apple, +and with carbuncles on his neck. + +He lived in a house of mean appearance, in that part where you may +now see the brewery of Claes van Volxem. Gans and Blaeskaek, coming +thither, found him in his kitchen, making up his stews. + +The apothecary, seeing Gans in such a piteous melancholy state, +asked him if he had some ill whereof he wished to be cured. + +"He has nothing to be cured of," said Blaeskaek, "save an evil fear +which has been tormenting him for a week past." + +Thereupon they told him the whole story of the chubby-faced image. + +"Dear God!" said Josse Cartuyvels, for such was the name of this +doctor of stews, "I know this devil well enough, and will show you his +likeness." And taking them up to the top of his house, into a small +room which he had there, he showed them a gallant image of that same +devil, making merry with pretty maids and gay goat-foot companions. + +"And what is the name," said Blaeskaek, "of this merry boy?" + +"I have no doubt it is Bacchus," said Josse Cartuyvels. "In olden +times he was a god, but at the gracious coming of Our Lord Jesus +Christ"--here all three crossed themselves--"he lost at once his +power and his divinity. He was, in his time, good company, and more +particularly notable as the inventor of wine, beer, and ale. It may be, +on that account, that instead of hell he is only in purgatory, where +no doubt he has become thirsty, and by God's permission was allowed to +return to earth, once only, no more, and there sing this lamentable +song which you heard in your garden. But I suppose that he was not +allowed to cry his thirst in countries where wine is chiefly drunk, +and that he came accordingly to Master Gans, knowing well enough that +with him he would find the best ale in all Brabant." + +"True," said Gans, "true, friend Cartuyvels, the best in the duchy; +and he drank up, if you please, a whole barrelful, without paying me +so much as the smallest gold piece, nor silver, nor even copper. That +is not the conduct of an honest devil." + +"Ah!" said Cartuyvels, "there you are in error, and do not perceive +what is for your good and what for evil. But if you will take the +advice I am about to give you, you may find a way whereby you can make +clear profit from this Bacchus, for he is, you must know, the god of +jolly drinkers and good innkeepers, and I am disposed to think that +he will do you a good turn." + +"Well, then," asked Blaeskaek, "what must we do now?" + +"I have heard that this devil loves warmth and sunlight. So take him +out, first of all, from this dark cellar. Then put him in some place +whither the sun reaches, such as on top of the tall press which stands +in the room where your customers sit and drink." + +"Sweet Jesus!" exclaimed Pieter Gans, "this is idolatry." + +"In no wise," said the apothecary. "I mean only this; that, put up +where I tell you, sniffing the good smell of stoups and flagons, and +hearing jolly talk, he will grow altogether frolicsome and happy. So +may you bring Christian comfort to poor dead souls." + +"But if," said Pieter Gans, "the priests should get wind of this +statue, so shamelessly set up for all to see?" + +"They cannot find you guilty of sin, for innocence keeps nothing +secret. You will show this Bacchus openly to all your friends and +relatives, and say that you found him buried under the earth in a +corner of your garden. Thus you will make him seem an ancient relic, as +indeed he is. Only take care to forget his name when you speak of him +to any one, and, entitling him, as in jest, Master Merry-face, use this +name for him always, and institute in his honour a jolly brotherhood." + +"So we will," answered Pieter Gans and Blaeskaek together, and they +then departed, not without having given the apothecary two large +coins for his trouble. + +He did his best, however, to keep them back, so that they might partake +of some of his heavenly hotch-potch, but Pieter Gans turned him a deaf +ear, saying to himself that it was devil's cooking, unwholesome for +a good Christian stomach. So they left him and set out again for Uccle. + + + + +V. Of the long conversation and great perplexity of Pieter Gans and +Blaeskaek in the matter of the deviling; and how they returned to +Uccle with a resolution taken. + +While they were on their way: "Well, comrade," said Gans to Blaeskaek, +"what is thy opinion of this apothecary?" + +"A dog of a heretic!" said Blaeskaek, "a heathen, a despiser of all +good and all virtue. For 'twas treasonable and wicked counsel he +gave us." + +"True, my good friend, true. And is it not besides a great heresy +to dare tell us that this deviling on his cask is he who invented +beer, wine, and ale, when we have heard it preached every Sunday in +our church that St. Noah, under the instruction of Our Lord Jesus +Christ"--here both crossed themselves--"invented these things." + +"For my part," said Blaeskaek, "I know I have heard that preached +above a hundred times." + +Here, seating themselves on the grass, they began to refresh themselves +with a fine Ghent sausage, brought by Pieter Gans against such time +as they should feel hungry. + +"There, there," said he, "let us not forget the Benedicite, my +friend. So, perhaps, we may escape burning. For 'tis to God we owe +this meat: may he deign to keep us always in his holy faith." + +"Amen," said Blaeskaek; "but, my master, between us we must certainly +break up this wicked statue." + +"He who has no sheep fears no wolves. 'Tis easy enough for thee to +talk comfortably of breaking up this deviling." + +"'Twould be a deed much to our credit." + +"But if he come back again to wail each night so piteously: +'Drink! Drink!' And if he turn angry with me and cast spells on my +beer and my wine, and make me as poor as Job! Nay, better follow the +advice of the apothecary." + +"Aye, and if the priests learn of the statue, and call us both before +the tribunal, and have us burnt as heretics and idolaters, what then?" + +"Ah," said Gans, "here are the good God on the one hand and the wicked +devil on the other, fighting over our poor bodies, and we shall be +pounded to nothing between them, alas, alas!" + +"Well," said Blaeskaek, "let us go to the good fathers openly, and +tell them the whole affair." + +"Alas, alas! We shall be burnt, my good master, burnt without mercy." + +"I believe there must be some way whereby to escape this danger." + +"There is none, my friend, there is none, and we shall be burnt. I +feel myself already half roast." + +"I have thought of a way," said Blaeskaek. + +"There is none, my friend, there is no way whatever, unless it be +the clemency of the worthy fathers. Canst see no pilgrim or wandering +friar on the road?" + +"None." + +"If we see such a one we must give him all our sausage--have we said +our grace for it?--and all the bread in our wallet, and humbly invite +him into our house, to eat a quarter of roast lamb, well washed down +with old wine. I have not much of that kind, but I will gladly give +him all there is of it. Canst not see such a one coming?" + +"No one," said Blaeskaek. "But open those rabbit's ears of thine +and hark to me: I will give thee good counsel, for I wish thee well, +blubberer. We must follow the apothecary's advice in half-and-half +fashion, so much only, you understand. 'Twould be idolatry of the +most shameless kind to put up this statue in the public hall." + +"Alas, alas, by all the devils! yes, you are right." + +"Very well, then we will put him in a cupboard, which shall be well +fastened, but with an opening on the top to let in the air. Therein +we will also put a small keg of good beer, and ask him not to use +it up too fast. In this way he will be, in fact, within the hall of +the inn, and he will keep himself well hid for certain, for in his +cupboard he will be able to take what pleasure he may from the songs +of the drinkers, rattling of mugs, and clinking of bottles." + +"No," said Gans to that, "no, we must follow wholly the apothecary's +advice, for he knows more about devils than we. As for this deviling, +we will do our best to satisfy him, according to our means. But in +spite of it all, I fear we shall one day be burnt, alas, alas!" + + + + +VI. Wherein it is seen that the devil is not a good one; and of the +evil trick which he played on the good wives of the drinkers. + +As soon as they reached The Horn, the two worthies took out from the +cellar the statue of the deviling and put it with great respect on +top of a press which stood in the hall. + +On the morrow there came to this inn nearly all the men of Uccle, +brought together in this wise because on that day had been sold +publicly in their stables two horses well bred by the late sheriff, +Jacob Naeltjens. His son was in no mind to keep them, saying that a +man's best steeds were his slipper-shoes. + +The men of Uccle were surprised and delighted when they saw the statue +of the youngster on the press, especially when Blaeskaek told them +that his name was Master Merry-face, and that it was proposed, by +way of jest, to establish forthwith in his honour a jolly brotherhood. + +They were all willing to do this, and thereupon decided between +them that no one should be of their brotherhood until he had drunk, +as his baptism, four-and-twenty monstrous great cups of wine, while +another brother beat twelve strokes on the plumpest belly of the +company there present. + +Each night thereafter they gathered together at The Horn, and drank +deep enough, as you may well guess. + +The most wonderful thing about the business was that in spite of this +they worked all day like stout fellows, some at their crafts, some at +their trades, others in the fields, contented one and all. But their +good wives were not by any means contented, for as soon as vespers +sounded all their husbands and sweethearts went off to The Horn, +without giving them so much as a single thought, and there stayed +until curfew. + +And when these worthies went home they did not beat their wives, +as some drinkers do, but lay down quietly beside them in bed, and +immediately, without saying a word, fell fast asleep and began to sound +such fanfares with their noses as Master Porker makes with his snout. + +Then the poor women might thump them, cuff them, call their names as +they would, to get them to sing their bedfellows a different sort of +song, but all quite in vain: as well beat water to get fire out of it. + +They awoke only with cock-crow, but their temper in the morning was +so rough and stormy that none of their womenfolk (that is to say, +of such as were not asleep from weariness) dared say a word, either +then or at the dinner-hour. All this was brought about by the evil +power and influence of the deviling. + +On that account there was much sadness among the women, who said, +all of them, that if such a state of things went on for long the race +of the people of Uccle must needs become extinct, which would be a +great pity. + + + + +VII. Of the Great Parliament of the Women of Uccle. + +So it came about that the women decided between themselves to save the +village from this fate, and to this end, while their menfolk were at +drink with Pieter Gans, they met together at the house of a certain +dame Syske, who was big, fat, loud-speaking, had hair upon her chin, +and had buried five husbands, or else seven, I dare not particularize +the number for fear of untruth. + +There, as a rebuke to their drunken husbands, they quenched their +thirst with clear water. + +When all were present, the younger ones assembled on this side and +the older on that, the ugly ones among the older, dame Syske opened +the talk by saying that they must all go forthwith to The Horn, and +there give these drinkers such a drubbing that they would be stiff +and sore for a week because of it. + +The old and ugly ones applauded this proposal with their hands, +their feet, their mouths, and their noses. There was a fine noise, +you may well believe. + +But the young and pretty ones kept silent as fishes, all save one, +very pretty, very fresh and very neat, bearing the name of Wantje, +who said very modestly, and blushing somewhat, that it was of no use +to belabour their worthy men in this fashion, but rather they must +bring them back to good ways by gentleness and laughter. + +To this the dame Syske replied: "Little one, thou canst understand +nothing of men, for thou art but a maid, or so I believe. For my part +I know well enough how I managed my several husbands, and that was +neither by gentleness nor by laughter, I promise thee. They are all +dead, the worthy men (may God rest their souls!), but I remember them +clearly, and know very well that at the least wrongdoing I made them +dance the stick-dance on the field of obedience. None dared eat or +drink, sneeze or yawn, unless I had first given him leave. Little Job +Syske, my last, did my cooking for me in my own house. He made a good +cook, poor little man. But I had to give him many good beatings to +bring him to that, and so it was with the others as well. Therefore, +little one, give up all these laughters and gentlenesses of thine, +they are not worth much, I can tell thee. Let us rather go forthwith +and cut ourselves good staves of greenwood, easy enough to find now +that it is spring-time, and going off to The Horn let us make fall +a good shower of blows on these unfaithful husbands." + +At this the old and ugly ones broke out afresh into monstrous howls +and tumult, crying, "Out upon them! out on the drunkards! They want +a good drubbing, they want a good hanging!" + + + + +VIII. Of the great wit which every woman has, and of the modest +conversation which the maid Wantje held with the worthies at the inn. + +On the morrow all these good women met together once again, and drank +as before a great quantity of clear water; and afterwards went off, +armed with sticks, to the place where they knew their men were to +be found. + +Before the door of The Horn they stopped, and there a great council +took place. The old ones wanted to go in with their sticks. + +"No," said Wantje, with the young and pretty ones, "we would rather +be beaten ourselves." + +"Hark to these sillies!" cried the old ones, "these poor silly +things. They have not an ounce of pride in their bodies, between +the lot of them. Be guided by us, gentle ewekins: we will avenge the +dignity of women for you upon these wretched drunkards." + +"That you shall not," said the young ones, "as long as we are there." + +"That we shall," howled the old ones. + +But here a certain young and merry wife burst out laughing. + +"See ye not," said she, "whence comes to these grannies so great a +rage and such a thirst for vengeance? 'Tis simple bragging, to make +us believe that their old croakers of husbands still care to sing +them songs." + +At these words the old hags were thrown into such a state of fury +that one or two died of rage there and then. Others, having quite +lost their heads, wanted to kill the maids and young wives who were +laughing at them (and 'twas pretty music, all those fresh and merry +voices), but the dame Syske stopped them from that, saying that for +the present they must take counsel together and not kill one another. + +Continuing their discussion, they quarrelled, argued, chattered, +jabbered in this and like fashion until curfew-time, when they +separated without having made up their minds to anything, by reason +of not having had time enough to talk it over. + +And there were spoken in this assembly of women more than 877,849,002 +words, each one as full of good sense as a cellarful of old wine. + +Pieter Gans, who, as they said, had rabbit's ears, hearing in +the street a certain hum of chattering voices, cried out: "Alas, +alas! what is this now? Devils for a certainty, dear Jesus!" + +"I will go and see, little coward," answered Blaeskaek. But on +opening the door he burst out laughing all at once, saying: "Brothers, +'tis our wives." + +Thereupon all the drinkers rose and went to the door; some with bottles +in their hands, others brandishing flagons, others again clinking +their mugs together like church bells. Blaeskaek went out of the room, +crossed the threshold of the outer door, and stepped into the street. + +"Well, wives," said he, "what brings you here with all this greenwood?" + +At these words the young ones let fall their sticks to the ground, +for they were ashamed to be caught with such weapons. + +But one old woman, brandishing hers in the air, answered for the +others: "We come, drunkards, to tell you the tale of the stick, +and give you a good thrashing." + +"Woe, woe!" wept Pieter Gans, "that, I know, is my grandmother's +voice." + +"So it is, scoundrel," said the old woman. + +Meanwhile the Brothers of the Cheerful Countenance, hearing all +this, shook their sides merrily with laughing, and Blaeskaek said: +"Then come in, come in, good wives, and let us see how you do your +drubbing. Are those good greenwood staves you have brought?" + +"Yes," said they. + +"I am glad of that. For our part we have ready for you some good +rods, well pickled in vinegar, which we use for whipping disobedient +boys. 'Twill doubtless give you all sweet pleasure to feel their +caresses, and so recall the days of your youth. Will you be pleased +to try them? We will give you plenty." + +But at these scoffing words the old women took fright and ran off as +fast as their legs would carry them, more particularly mother Syske, +making such terrible threats and noises as they went that they sounded +to those jolly Brothers like a flight of screeching crows passing +down the deserted streets. + +The young ones stayed before the door of the inn, and 'twas affecting +to see them so humbly standing, gentle and submissive, waiting for +some kindly word from their husbands or sweethearts. + +"Well," said Blaeskaek, "do you please to come in?" + +"Yes," said they all. + +"Keep them out," said Pieter Gans into Blaeskaek's ear, "keep them +out, or they will go chattering to the priests about the deviling, +and we shall be burnt, my good friend." + +"I am deaf," said Blaeskaek; "come in, my dears." + +Thereupon entered all these good women, and took up their places, +some by their husbands, others by their sweethearts, and the maids +in a line on a bench modestly. + +"Women," said the drinkers, "you wish to join us?" + +"Yes," said they. + +"And to drink also?" + +"Yes," said they. + +"And have not come here to tell us temperance stories?" + +"Nay," said they, "we have come without any other wish than to join +our good husbands and sweethearts, and laugh with them, if that may +be, with God's good will." + +"Those are certainly fair words," said one old man, "but I suspect +beneath them some woman's artifice or other." + +But no one paid him any heed, for by this time the women were seated +all about the table, and you might hear this: "Drink this, pretty +sweet, 'tis a draught from heaven." "Pour, neighbour, pour, pour out +some more of this sweet drink." "Who is a better man than I? I am the +Duke; I have good wine and good wife!" "Ho, there! broach a fresh cask +of wine; we must have the best there is to-day to pleasure these good +dames." "Courage! I have drunk too much; I am going to conquer the +moon. But wait a little first. For the present I stay by this good +wife of mine. Kiss me, sweet." + +"This is not the place, before all these people," the women would +answer. And with many caresses and pretty ways each said to her man: +"Come away home." + +They would indeed have been glad enough to go, all those good +drinkers, but did not dare do it, being shamefaced in this matter in +one another's presence. + +Guessing as much, the women talked of going back. + +"There, there!" said the old man, "is not that what I said. They want +to have us outside." + +"Nay, my masters," said Wantje very sweetly, "but I pray you remember +that we are not accustomed to such strong drinks, nor even to their +smell. Therefore, master, if we feel the need to go out into the +fresh air 'tis assuredly without wanting to anger or sadden you in +any way whatsoever. May God keep you merry, brothers." + +And thereupon the good women went off, though the men tried to keep +them back by force. + + + + +IX. Wherein it is seen that the learned Thomas a Klapperibus knew +what makes a drinker fidget on his stool. + +Left thus to their pots and tankards they turned to one another +in wonder, saying: "Ah, look ye at these dames! Does it not always +fall out in this wise; that they would have us do whatever they bid, +and that with humility! Submissive they seem, tyrants they are. But +look ye, is it to male or female that belongs properly the right of +command in all matters? To the male. We are the males. Very well, +then, let us drink! And we will at all times carry out our own wishes, +which will presently be to sleep here in this inn, if we please." + +After this fashion they talked together for some time, feigning great +anger, but being, in fact, eager enough to go and join their wives. By +and by they fell silent, and so remained for a while, some yawning, +others drumming tunes on the floor with their boots, others again, and +these many, fidgeting on their seats, as if they were on sharp thorns. + +Suddenly a young townsman, but lately married, got up and left the +hall, saying that by the advice of a leech he was forbidden to drink +more than six-and-twenty mugs of ale, which number he had already +taken. + +After he had gone they all began to excuse themselves, one with a pain +in his stomach, another with a headache, others with a melancholy +feeling or with the phlegm, and made off to their homes, excepting +only one or two among the older men. + +And when they were once outside they hurried with all speed to join +their wives. Thus was borne out what was written by the learned Thomas +a Klapperibus in his great work De Amore, c. vi, wherein it is said, +that woman has more power than the devil. + + + + +X. Of the brigand called Irontooth. + +But this thing never happened but once; for on the morrow when the +drinkers were carousing at The Horn the good women who came thither +to entice them away a second time were driven off in a shameful manner. + +And as for the men, they continued to drink and to shout hilarious +carols. + +Several times the night-watchman of the town came in to warn them +against making so much noise after the sun was set. Ha, they listened +to him with all respect, and seemed quite abashed and repentant at +their fault; each one said his mea culpa; and in the meantime they gave +the poor watchman so abundantly to drink that when he got outside he +went off straight away to do his round leaning against some wall, and +there snoring like a bass-viol. The others continued their drinking +bouts and heavy slumbering, whereof the unhappy wives never ceased +to complain. And so on, in this fashion, for a month and four days. + +Now by great misfortune the good Duke had lately been at war with +my Lord of Flanders, and although peace had been made between them +there remained afoot a band of lewd and ribald scoundrels, who went +about ravishing all the countryside and robbing the townsfolk. + +This same band was commanded by a savage captain, to whom was given +the name of Irontooth, because on the top of his casque he wore a +single spike, sharp and cruel, like the tooth of some devil or of +one of the unicorns of hell, cut out into fantastic shape. In battle +he would sometimes put down his head and use this tooth as a wild +boar uses his tusks. In this manner were slain many brave soldiers +of the duchy of Brabant. On this same casque he carried also an evil +bird whose wings beat against the steel, whereof it was said that it +screeched in battle in a terrible fashion. + +It was Irontooth's custom to come at night to the villages on which he +was minded to carry out his forays, butchering without mercy the poor +townsfolk in their sleep, and carrying off jewels, plate, women, and +maids, but of these last only the young ones. As for the old women, +he left them their lives, saying that it was not worth the while of +killing them, for they would certainly die of fright by themselves. + + + + +XI. In which it is seen how bravely the good wives of Uccle did the +duty of men. + +It came about that one night when only a few stars were showing, +and the moon shining a little, there came to Uccle a certain Master +Andre Bredael, running as hard as he could and quite out of breath. + +He brought this news: that being by chance behind a bush on the road +to Paris, he had seen a troop of men go past, whom he thought to be +the Irontooth's, for he had seen among them a spiked casque like that +which the great brigand was wont to wear. + +While these men were halted by the roadside, and munching some food, +he overheard them say that they were bound that night for Uccle, +where they hoped to get good sport and fair plunder, but they said +also that they must leave the high road and travel by small lanes, +so that their passage should not be discovered. Master Bredael thought +it most likely that they would debouch behind the church. + +Having learned so much he had hurried to Uccle by the Paris road, +outdistancing the brigands by a good half-league, so that he might +warn the townsmen to arms, and prepare a strong reception for these +unwelcome travellers. + +And arriving there he hastened to the door of the prefecture and +knocked loudly, so that the warning bell might be set ringing at once; +but none came to open to him, for the good reason that the custodian, +being one of the Brothers of the Cheerful Countenance, was fast asleep, +like all the other drinkers. Andre Bredael then sought other means of +alarum, and shouted out so loudly: "Fire! fire! Brand! brand!" that all +the women and old men, and children who were too young to drink, leapt +out of bed and ran to their windows to see what was going forward. + +Andre Bredael made himself known to them and begged them to come +down into the square, which they did with all dispatch. When they +were all gathered round him he told them of the coming of Irontooth, +and bade them go and wake their husbands. + +At these words the older women began to shout as if mad: "Welcome to +Irontooth, God's tooth in good deed, come to rip them all open! Ha, +drinkers! now we shall see you, as a punishment from heaven, either +hanged short or burnt alive or drowned without respite; and 'tis no +more than your sins deserve!" Then, as if they had wings to their +feet, they flew into their houses, and there Master Bredael, who +stayed with the younger women in the square, heard the enraged old +hags shouting, whining, weeping, vociferating, thumping on chests +and frying-pans, in an attempt to awaken their good men. At the same +time they cried in their ears: "Scoundrels, wake up! Sweet friends, +come and protect us! Drunkards, do your duty for once in your accursed +lives! Dear fellows, do you wish to find us dead by morning? Bear us +no malice for our talk of thrashing you. We were foolish just then, +and too hasty; ye were wise. But save us in this pass!" And so on, +mixing together smooth and bitter words, like milk and vinegar. + +But none of the men stirred. + +"What is this?" said Master Bredael. + +"Alas, master," said the young women, "'tis as you see; they are as +good as dead the night through, and so has it been a while past. If +the angel of God himself were to come he would scarce be able to +rouse them. Ah, must it be that after having left us lonely so long +these wicked husbands will now leave us to die!" + +"Do not weep," said Andre Bredael, "this is no time for that. Do you +love these husbands of yours?" + +"Yes," said they. + +"And your sons?" + +"Yes," said they. + +"And your little daughters, so sweet and winsome?" + +"Yes," said they. + +"And you are ready to defend them as best you can?" + +"Yes," said they. + +"Well, then," said Bredael, "go and fetch your men's bows and come +back here with them as quickly as you can. We will think of some way +to defend ourselves." + +Soon enough the women were back again, armed with bows which they +had taken from their husbands, brothers, or sweethearts. These bows +of Uccle were of great renown throughout the land, for they were as +strong as steel, and winged their arrows with very great speed. + +With them came certain boys of twelve years old, or not much more, +and one or two brave old men, but the women sent them back again +indoors, saying that they must stay behind and look to the village. + +The good womenfolk then collected in a bunch in the square, talking +with great ardour and courage, but not too much bragging withal. Every +one was clad in a white gown, jacket, or shift, as is the customary +night apparel of women. But on this occasion it was by the special +favour of God that they were so clad, as you shall see by and by. + +Wantje, who was one of their number, standing very bold and calm, +said suddenly that they must pray. Thereupon they all knelt devoutly, +and the maid spoke thus: + +"Madam Mary the Virgin, who art queen of heaven as Madam the Duchess +is queen of this country, give an ear to these poor wives and maids, +humbly kneeling before you, who by reason of the drunkenness of their +husbands and brothers must needs take on themselves men's duty and +arm themselves to fight. If you will but make a small prayer to My +Lord Jesus to give us his aid we shall be sure enough of victory. And +we will give you as thanksgiving a fair crown of gold, with rubies, +turquoises and diamonds in its rim, a fair golden chain, a fair robe +of brocade spangled over with silver, and the same to My Lord your +son. Therefore pray for us, Madam Mary." + +And all the other good maids and wives said after Wantje: "Pray for +us, Madam Mary." + +Suddenly, as they were rising from their knees, they saw a beautiful +bright star shoot from heaven to earth, not far from where they +were. This was, no doubt, an angel from the good God, who came down +from Paradise in this guise, to stand beside them and help them the +more surely. + +Seeing the sign the good women took heart of grace, and Wantje spoke +further, saying: + +"Madam the Virgin hearkens to us, 'tis certain. Let us now proceed +to the gate of the village, beside the church of Our Lord, who dwells +therein"--here all crossed themselves--"to await with confidence the +coming of the Irontooth and his men. And when we see them near at +hand let every woman draw her bow, without speaking, nor moving in +any way. Madam the Virgin will guide the arrows." + +"Well spoken, brave maid," said Master Bredael. "Come, I see in those +eyes of thine, so bright in the darkness, the breath of God, which is a +flame, alight in thy maid's heart. We must do as she says, good wives." + +"Yes, yes," said they. + +This woman's army took up its place in line in the alley behind +the church. + +After a while of waiting, wherein was much perplexity and anxiety, +they heard the sound of footfalls and voices, growing louder as they +listened, as of men on the march. + +And Wantje said: "Madam Mary, they are coming; have pity on us!" + +Then a large body of men appeared before them, carrying lanterns. And +they heard a monstrous, husky, devil's voice crying: "Out, friends, +out upon them! Loot for the Irontooth!" + +But here suddenly all these good women let fly their arrows with +great precision, for though they themselves remained in darkness they +could see the brigands, all lit up by their lanterns, as clearly as +in daylight. Two hundred of the men fell at the first volley, some +with arrows in their skulls, others in their necks, and several with +them in their bellies. + +The Irontooth himself was among the first that the good women heard +fall with a great thud, from an arrow let fly by Wantje, which pierced +him through the eyeball neatly. + +Some were not wounded at all, but, having troubled conscience, thought +when they saw all these white figures that 'twas the souls of those +whom they had made pass from life into death, come back by God's +grace to avenge themselves upon them. So they fell on their faces in +the dust, as if dead from fear, crying out in a most piteous manner: +"Mercy, Lord God! send back to hell all these ghosts, we pray you." + +But when they saw the good wives bearing down on them fear put strength +into their legs, and they made off as fast as they would carry them. + + + + +XII. Wherein Pieter Gans is nearer the stake than the wine-barrel. + +When the enemy had been so far discomfited the women came back into +the square and stood before the prefecture, not feeling any glory, +but rather sadness at having had to shed Christian blood in this +manner. Ah, they returned thanks with a full heart to Our Lady the +Virgin and Our Lord Jesus, who had given them the victory. + +Nor did they forget in their thanksgiving the good angel who had come +to their assistance in the form of a bright star. And they sang fair +hymns and litanies very sweetly. + +Meanwhile all the cocks in the countryside awoke one by one and +heralded with their clarions the new day about to dawn. + +And at that call, all the drinkers were roused from sleep, and ran +to their doors to find out whence came this sweet music. + +And my lord the Sun laughed in the sky. + +And the worthy men came out into the square, and some of them, when +they saw their wives in the assembly, were all for beating them +because they had left their beds; but Andre Bredael interposed and +told them the whole story. Thereupon they were all amazed, ashamed, +and repentant, seeing how well these brave petticoats had striven on +their behalf. Pieter Gans, Blaeskaek, and Father Claessens, Dean of +Uccle, a most saintly man, also came out into the square. + +Thereupon, seeing all this crowd assembled, Master Bredael spoke thus: + +"Friends," said he, "you hear how that 'tis through the valour of +your wives and daughters alone that you are not by this time sniffing +the air of heaven. Therefore 'tis seemly that here and now you should +promise, and take oath to it, not to drink any more except by their +wish." + +"That is all very well, Master Bredael," said one of the townsmen, +"but 'tis not plain drinking that puts us all into so deep a sleep. I +speak of these things with knowledge, I who have drunk wine freely +all my life, and hope still so to do with relish to the end of my +days. There is something else to it, devilry and evil spells, or so I +think. Come hither, Pieter Gans, come hither and talk to us somewhat, +and if thou know anything, bring light to this dark matter." + +"Alas, alas!" said Pieter Gans, his head wagging and his teeth +chattering (for he was afraid, poor fellow), "alas, alas! I know +nothing, my good friends." + +"Nay," said the man, "but thou dost know something of it, for I see +thy head shaking and thy teeth chattering." + +But at this point the Dean confronted Gans: + +"Wicked Christian," said he, "I can see well enough thou hast had +commerce with the devil, to the great despite of all these good +men. Confess thy sin with all humility, and we will accord thee such +grace as may be, but if thou deny it, thou shalt be punished with +hot oil." + +"Ah," said Pieter Gans in tears, "'tis as I said; I shall be burnt, +dear God! Blaeskaek, where art thou, my good friend? Give me thy +help. Alas, alas!" + +But Blaeskaek had gone off in a hurry from fear of the holy Fathers. + +"Ah," said Pieter Gans, "see how the traitor deserts me when danger +threatens!" + +"Speak," said the very reverend Father. + +"Yes, Master Dean," said Pieter Gans, weeping and wailing, "I will tell +you the whole story, without keeping back anything.... Master!" he +cried when he had come to the end of his recital, "if you will not +punish me too heavily, Master, I will give all my poor savings as a +perpetual gift to the Church. I am a true Christian, that I vow, and +no heretic. Moreover, I wish not to die until I have had sufficient +time to do long and full penance. But have me not boiled in oil before +I have had that time, I beg of you." + +"As to that," answered the Dean, "we shall see. Now take us to the +place where this devil is to be seen." + +By that time they were close to the church, and the priest went in to +get therefrom some holy water before they started. Then all the men, +women, and children of the village took their way to The Horn. + +There the Dean demanded to see what had been the cause of those wicked +spells which had been cast over so many worthy men, and Pieter Gans, +with all humility, showed him the deviling, still smiling and holding +his staff of vine-branches in his hand. And all the women, after +looking at him for some time, said that he was very comely for a devil. + +The priest first crossed himself, then, dipping his fingers in the +holy water, anointed therewith the brow, breast, and belly of the +statue, which thereupon, by the grace of God, crumbled into dust, +and a sorrowful voice was heard saying: "Oi moi, o phos, tethneka!" + +And these words of the devil were explained by the priest to signify, +in the Greek tongue: "Woe is me! Light! I die!" + + + + +XIII. Of the great wonder and astonishment of My Lord the Duke when +he heard of the valour of the women of Uccle. + +In the meantime the village sent to the Duke two trusty men, with a +message to that high prince informing him in due order all that had +occurred. These men met him already on his way to Uccle, for he had +learnt by his runners the Irontooth's design, and knowing full well +where he would find him was coming against him at all speed with a +strong force of horsemen. + +As soon as the messengers saw who it was coming along the road they +went down on their knees, but the good Duke would have none of this, +and made them rise and walk at his stirrup. + +Before they had gone far they reached the scene of the brigands' +discomfiture. At the sight of all those heaped-up bodies the Duke +halted, greatly astonished and no less pleased. "And who," quoth he, +"has slain all these scoundrels in this wise?" + +"Our womenfolk," said one of the messengers. + +"What is this thou'rt telling me?" said the Duke with a frown. + +"Before God, My Lord," said the man, "I will tell you the whole story." + +And so he did. + +"Well," said the Duke when he had done, "who would have thought it +of these good wives? I will reward them well for it." + +So saying he caused the casque of the Irontooth to be taken up and +carried away. This casque was to be seen for many years in the armoury +of My Lord Charles, who had it guarded with the utmost care. + + + + +XIV. In what manner was instituted the Order of the Women-Archers +of Uccle and of the fine reward which My Lord gave to the brave +maid Wantje. + +On entering Uccle the good Duke saw coming towards him a large body of +people, and in their midst a man crying out in a most piteous voice: +"Master! Master Priest! let me not be boiled!" To which the answer was: +"We shall see." + +"Whence comes all this noise?" said the Duke. + +But as soon as Pieter Gans saw who it was he ran towards him and threw +his arms round his horse's legs. "My Lord," he cried, "My Lord Duke, +let me not be boiled!" + +"And why," said the Duke, "should they boil one of my good men +of Uccle?" + +But the very reverend Father Claessens, stepping forward, told him +the whole story with great indignation, while Pieter Gans continued to +blubber alongside in a most melancholy fashion. And thereon followed +such confusion, with the one weeping and groaning, the other denouncing +and syllogizing, and each so vehemently, that the good Duke could +not tell which to listen to. + +Suddenly Wantje came forward out of the press, and, like Pieter Gans, +cried: "Mercy and pity!" + +"My Lord," said the maid, "this man has sinned greatly against God, +but only from simpleness of mind and a natural cowardice. The devil +frightened him; he submitted to the devil. Pardon him, My Lord, +for our sakes." + +"Maid," said the Duke, "that was well spoken, and 'tis to thee I +will hearken." + +But the very reverend Father: "My Lord," said he, "forgets to think +of God." + +"Father," said the Duke, "I am not forgetful of that duty. Nevertheless +I think he takes little pleasure in watching Christian fat smoke or +a good man's flesh boil, but likes rather to see men gentle and kind, +and not giving their fellows penance to do. And on this day when Our +Lady the Virgin has deigned to perform a miracle for our sakes I will +not sadden her mother's heart by the death of a Christian. Therefore +none of the accused, neither this Pieter Gans nor any other there +may be, shall this time go to the stake." + +On hearing this Pieter Gans burst out laughing like a madman, and +began to dance and sing, crying out the while: "Praise to My Lord! I +am not to be boiled. Brabant to the Good Duke!" And all the townsfolk +called out after him: "Praise to My Lord!" + +Then the Duke bade them be silent, and smiling: + +"Well, dames," said he, "who have this night done man's work so +valiantly, come hither that I may give you a man's reward. First +of all, to the bravest one among you I give this great chain of +gold. Which is she?" + +The good women pushed Wantje forward before the Duke. + +"Ah," said he, "'tis thee, sweet pleader. Wilt kiss me, though I +be old?" + +"Yes, My Lord," said the maid. And so she did, notwithstanding that +she was a little shamefaced over it. + +And the good Duke, having hung the chain round her neck, spoke further +in this wise: + +"As for you all, good dames, who have this night so gallantly carried +arms, I institute among you a most honourable Order, under the +protection of Madam Mary the Virgin, and I direct that there shall be +set up in this place a staff of a good length, and that each Sunday +you shall come together here and draw the bow in archery, in memory of +the time when with those bows you saved the lives of your husbands and +children. And there shall be a fair crown of laurel and a fair purseful +of golden peters, bright and new, to be awarded annually to the best +archer of the year, and brought to her on a cushion by all the others +together. And this purse will dower her if she be a maid, or, if she +be a wife, will stand her in good stead against a time of famine." + +In this manner was instituted the Order of Women-Archers of Uccle, +who still draw the bow like men every Sunday, under the protection +of Our Lady the Virgin. + + + + + + + +THE THREE SISTERS + + +I. Of the three noble ladies and their great beauty. + +In the year of Our Lord Jesus Christ 690, lived three maidens, +descended, by male issue, from the noble line of the great emperor +Octavian. + +Their names were Blanche, Claire, and Candide. + +Though they had dedicated the flower of their maidenhead to God, +it is not to be supposed that this was for lack of lovers. + +For, on every day that passed, a crowd of people used to collect +for nothing else than to see them go by on their way to church, +and onlookers would say of them: "See what gentle eyes, see what +white hands!" + +More than one, besides, with his mouth watering to look at them, +would say sorrowfully: "Must it be that such sweet maids as these +should dedicate themselves to God, who has eleven thousand or more +in his Paradise already." + +"But none so fair," answered an old wheezing merchant behind them, +who was drinking in the fragrance of their dresses. + +And going off on his way, if the old man saw any young fellow loafing +by the roadside, or lying on his belly in the grass to warm his back +in the sun, he would give him a kick in the ribs, saying: "Well now, +dost thou care nothing to see the finest flowers of beauty that were +ever blowing?" + + + + +II. How a prince of Araby was taken with love for the youngest sister, +and what came of it. + +Not a few young men tried to win them in marriage, but failing in +this endeavour, turned moody and pined visibly away. + +Among them was a certain prince of Araby, who had himself baptized with +great ceremony. And this for the sake of the youngest sister solely. + +But, failing to attain his end, either by pleading or by force, set +himself one morning before her door, and there let himself fall on +his sword. + +The maid, hearing this fair lord cry out, came down in haste and had +him carried in and laid on her own bed; whereat (for he was not quite +dead) he found great solace. + +And when she bent over him to bathe and dress his wound, he roused +what force he had left in him, kissed her on her red mouth, sighed +like a man delivered from torment, and so gave up his soul happily. + +But the maid was not at all pleased at this kiss, for she considered +it a dishonour to her divine husband Jesus. Nevertheless she wept +for the fair lord, a little. + + + + +III. Wherein it is seen how Satan persecutes those ladies who seek +to escape from the world. + +There were oftentimes a great crowd of suitors before the dwelling +of the three ladies, some of them sighing laments, others prancing +up and down on fine horses, others without uttering a word, but only +looking up at the windows all the day long. + +And oftentimes these men would fight together and kill one another, +from jealousy. At this the ladies were saddened exceedingly. + +"Ah," said the two elder to their sister, "pray for us, white Blanche, +white of soul and white of body, pray for us, little one. Jesus +listens readily to the prayers of such maids as thou art." + +"My sisters," answered she, "I am less worthy than you, but I will +pray, if you so wish it." + +"Yes," said they. + +Then the three sisters knelt down, and the youngest prayed in this +manner: + +"Kind Jesus, we have sinned against you assuredly, else you would not +have let our beauty so touch these wicked men. Yes, we have indeed +sinned, but, weaklings that we are, despite ourselves, Lord. Ah, +grant us pardon for our great sorrow. You would have us for your own, +and so indeed we have kept ourselves: our youth and beauty, mirth +and sadness, vows and prayers, souls and bodies, thoughts and deeds, +everything. In the morning, at noon, and at vesper-time, at all hours +and all moments, do we not have you in our minds? When your bright +sun rises, O beloved, and no less when your bright stars shine in +your heaven, they can see us at prayer, and offering to you, not gold, +frankincense, or myrrh, but our humble loves and our poor hearts. That +is not enough, we know well. Dear one, teach us to do more." + +Pausing here they sighed sorrowfully, all three. + +"Kind Jesus," went on the youngest sister, "we know well enough +the desire of these men. They think themselves brave and handsome, +and hope on this account to capture our love, but they are neither +handsome, nor brave, nor good, as you are, Jesus. And yours we are +and shall be always, and theirs never. Will you please to love us +also a little, for you alone are our comfort and joy in this sad +world, Jesus? We will not be unfaithful to you in anything. Ah, +let us rather die quickly, for we hunger and thirst for you. If you +will, let these evil men continue to pursue us with their loves, +'twill be but delight to suffer it for your sake. Nevertheless, +the mortal husband leaves not his wife in danger, nor the betrothed +his bride. Are you not better than they, and will you not keep us +also from the snares of the enemy? If it be not pleasing to you, do +nothing, but then it may be that one day some one will steal from us +our virginity, which is yours only. Ah, dear beloved, rather let us +pass our lives old, ugly, leprous, and then descend into purgatory, +among devils, flame, and brimstone, there to wait until you deem us +pure enough at length to take us into your Paradise, where we shall +be allowed to see you and love you for ever. Have pity upon us. Amen." + +And having spoken thus, the poor child wept, and her sisters with her, +saying: "Pity, Jesus, pity." + + + + +IV. Of the voice of the divine bridegroom, and of the horseman in +silvern armour. + +Suddenly they heard a low voice saying: "Take heart." + +"Hark," they said, "the husband deigns to speak to his brides." + +And presently the room was filled with a perfume more delicate than +that of a censer burning finest frankincense. + +Then the voice spake further: "To-morrow," it said, "when dawn breaks, +go out from the town. Mount your palfreys, and, riding without halt, +follow the road without heeding whither it leads. I will guide you." + +"We will obey you," they said, "for you have made us the happiest of +the daughters of men." + +And rising from their knees, they kissed one another joyfully. + +While the voice was speaking to them, there had come into the square a +beautiful horseman in silvern armour, with a golden helm on his head, +and, flying above that like a bird, a crest more brilliant than a +flame. The horse whereon he rode was of pure white. + +None of those there had seen him coming, and he was as if risen from +the ground among the crowd of lovers, who, seized with fear, dared +not look him in the face. + +"Rascals," quoth he, "take these horses away out of the square. Do +you not know that the noise of their hooves troubles these three +ladies in their prayers?" + +And therewith he rode away towards the east. + +"Ah," said the lovers to one another, "saw you that silvern armour +and that flaming crest? 'Twas an angel of God assuredly, come from +Paradise for the sake of these three ladies." The more insistent among +them muttered: "He did not forbid us to stand on foot before the door, +and in that wise we may yet remain with impunity." + + + + +V. How, by the command of God, the three ladies rode to adventure. + +On the morrow, therefore, before daylight, the suitors returned once +again in great numbers, but first left their horses behind them in +their stables. Soon after daybreak they saw the three ladies ride out +from their courtyard, in obedience to the command which God had given +them, each one mounted upon her palfrey. Supposing that they were but +going out into the neighbouring meadows to take the clean air, they +followed behind, one and all, singing merry carols in their honour. + +For so long as they were in the streets of the town the palfreys +moved slowly, but once out in the open country they began galloping. + +The lovers tried still to follow them, but at last were forced to +drop off, and fell one by one along the wayside. + +When they had covered some miles the palfreys stood still; and the +three ladies, seeing that they had come free of their pursuers, +resolved to give honour to God for his aid, and to this end to build +him a fair church. + +Where? They did not know. But the thing was already decided in +Paradise, as you shall see. + +For as soon as they were once again on their horses, the animals, +guided by God's holy spirit, set off at a high trot. + +And leapt rivers, threaded forests, passed through towns, whereof the +gates opened of themselves to let them by, and closed again after, +bounded over walls and like obstacles. + +And startled every one they met, all amazed to see go by, quick as +the wind, these three white horses and these three fair ladies. + +And travelled in this way for a thousand leagues, or rather more. + + + + +VI. Of the diamond hammers, and foundations torn up from the ground. + +At Haeckendover, in the duchy of Brabant, the palfreys stood still +once again, and neighed. + +And would not go one step forward, nor back. + +For this was where God had chosen to have his church. + +But the ladies, supposing that they had stopped there because they +were tired, went on as far as Hoy-Bout on foot, and there determined +to start building. + +Therefore they sent for the most skilful workers in stone, and +master-builders also, in so great number that at the end of one day +the foundations were two hands' breadth high in the lowest part. + +And seeing this good beginning the ladies rejoiced greatly, and +supposed their work agreeable to God. + +But on the morrow, alas, found all the stones torn up out of the +ground. + +Thinking that by chance some traitor heretic had been buried in +that place, who at night shook down the stones of their church with +the trembling of his accursed bones, they removed to Steenen-Berg +with their workmen, and there started afresh in the same manner as +at Hoy-Bout. + +But on the morrow morning found the walls once again out of the ground. + +For the Lord Jesus was minded to be worshipped more particularly +at Haeckendover. + +And sent, therefore, his angels by night, with hammers of diamond +from the workshops of Paradise. + +And bade them tear down the work of the three ladies. + +Therefore the sisters, greatly perplexed and wondering, went down on +their knees, praying God that he would tell them where he wished to +have his church. + + + + +VII. Of the youngest sister and the beautiful angel. + +And suddenly they saw a young man, of a beauty more than earthly, +clad in a robe of the colour of the setting sun. + +Kindly he looked at them. + +Knowing him for God's angel, the three ladies fell on their faces +before him. + +But the youngest, bolder than the others, as is the way with children, +dared to steal a look at the fair ambassador, and, seeing him so +comely, took heart and smiled. + +The angel took her by the hand, saying to her and to her sisters: +"Come and follow me." + +This they did. + +And thence they came to the spot where the church now stands, and +the angel said to them: "This is the place." + +"Thank you, My Lord," said the youngest joyously. + + + + +VIII. How the three ladies saw a green island, with sweet flowers +and birds thereon. + +At that time it was thirteen days past the feast of the Kings; snow +had fallen heavily and set hard in frost after, by reason of a north +wind which was blowing. + +And the three ladies saw before them, among the snow, as it were a +green island. + +And this island was girt about with a cord of purple silk. + +And upon the island the air was fresh as in spring, and roses were +blowing, with violets and jessamine, whose smell is like balm. + +But outside was naught but storm, north wind, and terrible cold. + +Towards the middle, where now stands the grand altar, was a holm-oak, +covered with blossom as if it had been a Persian jessamine. + +In the branches, warblers, finches and nightingales sang to their +hearts' content the sweetest songs of Paradise. + +For these were angels, who had put on feathered guise, carolling in +this fashion in God's honour. + +One fair nightingale, the sweetest singer of them all, held in his +right claw a roll of parchment, whereon was written in letters of gold: + +"This is the place chosen by God and shown by him to the three maidens +for the building of a church to the glory of Our Lord and Saviour +Jesus Christ." + +Great was the joy of the ladies at that sight, and the youngest said +to the angel: + +"We see certainly that God loves us somewhat; what must we do now, +My Lord Angel?" + +"Thou must build the church here, little one," answered the messenger, +"and choose for this work twelve of the most skilled workmen, neither +more nor less; God himself will be the thirteenth." + +And having said so much he returned to high heaven. + + + + +IX. Of the church of Our Lord at Haeckendover, and of the strange +mason who worked there. + +Then all three went off in haste to choose from among the others the +twelve good workmen who should set up the foundations of the church +where they had seen the cord of purple silk. + +The work went on so well that it was a pleasure to see the stones +mounting up, straight and quickly. + +But the miracle was this, that during the hours of labour the masons +were always thirteen in number, but at dinner and at paytime twelve +only. + +For the Lord Jesus was pleased to work with the others, but neither +ate nor drank with them; he who in Paradise had such fine broth and +such sweet fruits, and wine from the fountain of Saphir, which is a +fountain giving forth without intermission wine of a richer yellow +than liquid gold itself. + +Nor did he suffer for want of money; for that is an evil reserved to +us needy, piteous, and ill-faring mortals. + +The building advanced so well that soon the bell was hung in the +tower as a sign that the church was finished. + +Then the three maids entered in together; and, falling on her knees, +the youngest said: + +"By whom, divine husband and beloved Jesus, shall we dedicate this +church built for your service?" + +To which the Lord Jesus replied: "It is I Myself who will consecrate +and dedicate this church; let none come after me to consecrate +it anew." + + + + +X. Of the two bishops, and the withered hands. + +By and by two venerable bishops passed through Haeckendover, and +seeing the new church were minded to give it their blessing. + +They knew nothing of the words of Jesus to the three ladies, or they +would not have thought of such temerity. + +But they were punished terribly none the less. + +For as one of them was about to bless the water for this purpose he +became suddenly blind. + +And the other, who was holding the holy water brush, when he lifted +his arms for the blessing, found them suddenly withered and stiffened, +so that he could no longer move them. + +And perceiving that they had sinned in some way the two bishops were +filled with repentance and prayed to the Lord Jesus to pardon them. + +And they were straightway pardoned, seeing that they had sinned +in ignorance. + +And thereafter they came oftentimes most devoutly to Haeckendover. + + + + + + + +SIR HALEWYN + + +I. Of the two castles. + +Sir Halewyn lifted up his voice in a song. + +And whatever maid heard that song must needs go to him straight away. + +And now to all good Flemings will I tell the tale of this Halewyn +and his song, and of the brave maid Magtelt. + +There were two proud castles in the province of Flanders. In one +dwelt Sir Roel de Heurne, with the lady Gonde, his good wife; +Toon the Silent, his son; Magtelt, his fair daughter, and a host +of pages, grooms, varlets, men-at-arms, and all the other members +of the household, among whom an especial favourite was Anne-Mie, +a girl of gentle blood, maid to the lady Magtelt. + +Of everything that was made by his peasants, Sir Roel took naught +but what was the best. + +And the peasants said of him that it was a good master who took only +as much as he needed, when he might have left them with nothing. + +In the other castle lived Sir Halewyn the Miserable, with his father, +brother, mother, and sister, and a large following of rascals and +brigands. + +And these were an ill-favoured crew, I can tell you, past masters of +robbery, pillage, and murder, such as it is not good to meet at too +close quarters. + + + + +II. Of Dirk, called the Crow. + +This family were issue by direct line of Dirk, the first of the +Halewyns, to whom was given the name of the Crow, because he was as +greedy of booty as a crow is of carrion. + +And also because he was clad all in black, and his men with him. + +This Dirk, who lived in the time of the great wars, was like a +thunderbolt in battle, where, with his only weapon, a heavy club, +furnished with a beak at one side, he broke javelins, splintered +lances, and tore away mail as if it had been cloth; and no one could +well resist his onslaught. And in this manner he so frightened his +enemies that when they saw Dirk and his black soldiers bearing down +upon them, shouting, yelling, without fear of any one, and in great +number, they gave themselves up for dead before ever battle was joined. + +When victory was won and the more important booty divided (whereof Dirk +always secured the lion's share and never came off badly), the other +barons and their knights would leave the rest of the field to him and +his followers, and would go off, saying: "The pieces are for the crow." + +No other man-at-arms would dare to stay behind then, or he would have +been quickly taken and slain without waiting. And thereafter Dirk's +men would begin to play the crow in earnest; cutting off fingers to +get the rings on them, even of those not yet dead, who cried out to +them for succour; chopping off heads and arms so that they might pull +away clothes the more easily. And they even fought amongst themselves, +and sometimes killed one another, over the bodies of the dead, for +the sake of neck-pieces, straps of hide, or more paltry stuff still. + +And stayed sometimes on the battlefield over this business three days +and three nights. + +When all the dead were stark naked they piled up their gains into +carts which they brought for this purpose. + +And with these they returned to Dirk's castle, there to hold high +revel and have good cheer. On the way they fought the peasants, +taking whatever women and girls were at all comely, and did with +them what they pleased. In this way they passed their lives fighting, +pillaging, robbing the helpless, and caring nothing at all for either +God or devil. + +Dirk the Crow became exceedingly powerful and got very much worship, +both by reason of his prowess in battle and from the fact that My +Lord the Count gave him after his victories the demesne of Halewyn, +with powers of seigneury, both of the higher and the lower order. + +And he had a fine escutcheon made for himself, wherein was a crow +sable on a field or, with this device: The pieces are for the Crow. + + + + +III. Of Sir Halewyn and how he carried himself in his youth. + +But to this strong Crow were born children of a quite other kind. + +For they were all, strangely enough, men of the quill and writing-desk, +caring nothing for the fine arts of war, and despising all arms. + +These great clerks lost a good half of their heritage. For each year +some stronger neighbour would rob them of a piece of it. + +And they begot puny and miserable children, with pale faces, who passed +their time, as clerks are wont, lurking in corners, sitting huddled +on stools, and whining chants and litanies in a melancholy fashion. + +Thus came to an end the good men of the line. + +Siewert Halewyn, who was the wretch of whom I am to tell you this +tale, was as ugly, puny, woebegone, and sour-faced as the others, +or even worse than they. + +And like them he was always lurking and hiding in corners, and +shirking company, hated the sound of laughter, sweated ill-humour, and, +moreover, was never seen to lift his head skywards like an honest man, +but was all the while looking down at his boots, wept without reason, +grumbled without cause, and never had any satisfaction in anything. For +the rest he was a coward and cruel, delighting during his childhood +in teasing, frightening and hurting puppies and kittens, sparrows, +thrushes, finches, nightingales, and all small beasts. + +And even when he was older, he hardly dared to attack so large a thing +as a wolf, though he were armed with his great sword. But as soon as +the beast was brought down he would rain blows on it with high valour. + +So he went on until he was old enough to marry. + + + + +IV. How Sir Halewyn wished to take himself a wife, and what the ladies +and gentlewomen said to it. + +Then, since he was the oldest of the family, he was sent off to the +court of the Count, there to find himself a wife. But every one laughed +at him, on account of his marvellous ugliness, more particularly the +ladies and gentlewomen, who made fun of him among themselves, saying: + +"Look at this fine knight! What is he doing here? He has come to marry +us, I suppose.--Who would have him, for four castles, as many manors, +ten thousand peasants and half the gold in the province? None.--And +that is a pity, for between them they would get fine children, if +they were to be like their father!--Ho, what fine hair he has, the +devil must have limned it with an old nail; what a fine nose, 'tis +like a withered plum, and what fair blue eyes, so marvellously ringed +round with red.--See, he is going to cry! That will be pretty music." + +And Sir Halewyn, hearing the ladies talk after this fashion, could +not find a word to answer them with, for between anger, shame, and +sorrow his tongue was fast stuck to the roof of his mouth. + +Nevertheless he would take a lance at every tournament, and every +time would be shamefully overcome, and the ladies, seeing him fall, +would applaud loudly, crying out: "Worship to the ill-favoured one! The +old crow has lost his beak." Thus they compared him, for his shame, +with Dirk, the old stock of the Halewyns, who had been so mighty +in his day. And, acclaimed in this fashion every time he jousted, +Sir Halewyn would go back from the field in sorrow to his pavilion. + + + + +V. How it came about that Sir Halewyn, after a certain tournament, +called upon the devil for aid. + +At the third tournament wherein he was beaten there were on the field +his father, mother, brother, and sister. + +And his father said: + +"Well, look at my fine son, Siewert the soft, Siewert the overthrown, +Siewert the faint-heart, coming back from jousting with his tail +between his legs, like a dog thrashed with a great stick." + +And his mother said: + +"I suppose for certain that My Lord the Count has put a gold chain +round thy neck, and acclaimed thee publicly, for having so valiantly +in this jousting jousted on thy back, as in the old days my lord of +Beaufort was wont to make thee do. Holy God! that was a fine tumble." + +And his sister said: + +"Welcome, my fair brother, what news do you bring? Thou wert the +victor for certain, as I see from thy triumphant mien. But where is +the wreath of the ladies?" + +And his brother said: + +"Where is your lordly bearing, My Lord Siewert Halewyn the +elder, descendant of the Crow with the great beak? For such a Crow +vanquishes without much trouble eagles, goshawks, shrikes, gerfalcons, +sparrow-hawks. Are you not thirsty, my brother, with the thirst of +a baron, of a victor, I will not say of a villein? We have here some +fine frog's wine, which will cool the fires of victory in your belly." + +"Ha," answered the Sire, grinding his teeth, "if God gave me strength, +I would make thee sing a different song Sir Brother." + +And saying this, he pulled out his sword to do so, but the younger, +parrying his thrust, cried out: + +"Bravo, uncrowlike Crow! Bravo, capon! Raise up our house, I beg of +thee, Siewert the victorious!" + +"Ha," said the Sire, "and why does this chatterer not go and joust as +well as I? But he would not dare, being that kind of coward who looks +on at others, folding his arms and making fun of those who strive." + +Then he dismounted from his horse, went off and hid himself in his +chamber, cried out to the four walls in a rage, prayed to the devil +to give him strength and beauty, and promised him, on the oath of a +knight, that he would give him his soul in exchange. + +So he called on him all through the night, crying out, weeping, +bewailing his lot, minded at times even to kill himself. But the +devil did not come, being busy elsewhere. + + + + +VI. Of the rovings and wanderings of Sir Halewyn. + +Every day after this, whether it were fair or foul, light sky or dark, +storm or gentle breeze, rain, snow, or hail, Sir Halewyn wandered +alone through the fields and woods. + +And children, seeing him, ran away in fear. + +"Ah," said he, "I must be very ugly!" And he went on with his +wandering. + +But if on his way he met some common man who had strength and beauty, +he would bear down on him and oftentimes kill him with his sword. + +And every one grew to shun him, and to pray to God that he would soon +remove their Lord from this world. + +And every night, Sir Halewyn called on the devil. + +But the devil would not come. + +"Ah," said the Sire sorrowfully, "if thou wilt only give me strength +and beauty in this life, I will give thee my soul in the other. 'Tis +a good bargain." + +But the devil never came. + +And he, restless, always in anguish and melancholy, was soon like an +old man to look at, and was given the name throughout the country of +the Ill-favoured Lord. + +And his heart was swollen with hatred and anger. And he cursed God. + + + + +VII. Of the Prince of the Stones and of the song. + +One day in the season of plum-picking, having roved over the whole +countryside, and even as far as Lille, on the way back to his castle +he passed through a wood. Ambling along he saw among the undergrowth, +alongside an oak, a stone which was of great length and broad in +proportion. + +And he said: "That will make me a good seat, comfortable enough to +rest on for a little while." And sitting down on the stone he once +again prayed to the devil to let him have health and beauty. + +By and by, although it was still daylight, and the small birds, +warblers and finches, sang in the woods joyously, and there was a +bright sun and a soft wind, Sir Halewyn went off to sleep, for he +was very tired. + +Having slept until it was night, he was suddenly awakened by a strange +sound. And he saw, by the light of the high moon and the clear stars, +as it were a little animal, with a coat like a mossy stone, who was +scratching up the earth beneath the rock, now and again thrusting +his head into the hole he had made, as a dog does hunting moles. + +Sir Halewyn, thinking it was some wild thing, hit at it with his sword. + +But the sword was broken at its touch, and a little mannikin of stone +leapt up on to his shoulders, and smote his cheeks sharply with his +hard hands, and said, wheezing and laughing: + +"Seek, Siewert Halewyn; seek song and sickle, sickle and song; seek, +seek, ill-favoured one!" + +And so saying he hopped about like a flea on the back of the Miserable, +who bent forward as he was bid, and with a piece of his sword dug in +the hole. And the stony cheek of the little mannikin was alongside +his own, and his two eyes lit up the hole better than lanterns would +have done. + +And biting Halewyn's flesh with his sharp teeth, striking him with +his little fists, and with his nails pinching and pulling him, and +laughing harshly, the little mannikin said: "I am the Prince of the +Stones, I have fine treasures; seek, seek, Miserable!" + +And saying this, he pommelled him beyond endurance. "He wants," he +screamed, mocking him, "Siewert Halewyn wants strength and beauty, +beauty and strength; seek then, Miserable." + +And he pulled out his hair in handfuls, and tore his dress with his +nails until he was all in rags, and kept saying, with great bursts +of laughter: "Strength and beauty, beauty and strength; seek, seek, +Miserable!" And he hung from his ears with his two hands, and kicked +his stone feet in his face, notwithstanding that the Sire cried out +with pain. + +And the little mannikin said: "To get strength and beauty, seek, +Halewyn, a song and a sickle, seek, Sir Miserable!" And the Miserable +went on scratching out the earth with his piece of sword. + +Suddenly the earth fell away under the stone, leaving a great +hole open, and Halewyn, by the light of the mannikin's eyes, saw a +sepulchre, and within the sepulchre a man lying, who was of marvellous +beauty and had none of the appearance of death. + +This man was clad all in white, and in his hands held a sickle, +whereof both handle and blade were of gold. + +"Take the sickle," quoth the little mannikin, thumping his head with +his fists. + +Sir Halewyn did as he was bid, and straightway the man in the tomb +became dust, and from the dust came a white flame, tall and spreading, +and from the white flame a wonderfully sweet song. + +And suddenly all about the wood was spread a perfume of cinnamon, +frankincense, and sweet marjoram. + +"Sing," said the mannikin, and the Miserable repeated the song. While +he was singing his harsh voice was changed to a voice sweeter than +an angel's, and he saw coming out of the depths of the wood a virgin +of heavenly beauty and wholly naked; and she came and stood before him. + +"Ah," she said, weeping, "master of the golden sickle. I come, for I +must obey; do not make me suffer too much in the taking of my heart, +master of the golden sickle." + +Then the virgin went away into the depths of the wood; and the +mannikin, bursting out into laughter, threw Sir Halewyn down on to +the ground, and said: + +"Hast song and sickle; so shalt thou have strength and beauty; I am +the Prince of the Stones; farewell, cousin." + +And Halewyn, picking himself up, saw no more of either the mannikin +or the naked maid; and studying well the golden sickle, and pondering +in his mind what could be the meaning of the man in the tomb and the +naked virgin, and inquiring within himself in perplexity what use he +could make of the sickle and the sweet song, he saw suddenly on the +blade a fair inscription, written in letters of fire. + +But he could not read the writing, for he was ignorant of all the arts; +and, weeping with rage, he threw himself into the bushes, crying out: +"Help me, Prince of the Stones. Leave me not to die of despair." + +Thereupon the mannikin reappeared, leapt upon his shoulder, and, +giving him a stout rap on the nose, read on one side of the blade of +the sickle this inscription which follows: + + + Song calls, + Sickle reaps. + In the heart of a maid shalt thou find: + Strength, beauty, honour, riches, + From the hands of a dead virgin. + + +And upon the other side of the blade the mannikin read further: + + + Whoso thou art shalt do this thing, + Writing read and song sing: + Seek well, hark and go; + No man shall lay thee low. + Song calls, + Sickle reaps. + + +And having read this the mannikin went away once more. + +Suddenly the Miserable heard a sad voice saying: + +"Wilt thou seek strength and beauty in death, blood, and tears?" + +"Yes," said he. + +"Ambitious heart, heart of stone," answered the voice. Then he heard +nothing more. + +And he gazed at the sickle with its flaming letters until such time +as My Lord Chanticleer called his hens awake. + + + + +VIII. What Halewyn did to the little girl cutting faggots. + +The Miserable was overjoyed at what had come about, and inquired +within himself whether it would be in the heart of a virgin child or +of a marriageable virgin that he would find what was promised him, +and so satisfy his great desire for worship and power. + +Pondering this he went a little way through the wood and stationed +himself near to some cottages where he knew there were maids of divers +ages, and there waited until morning. + +Soon after the sun was up, a little girl came out, nine years old, +or rather less, and began collecting and cutting up faggots. + +Going up to her, he sang the song and showed her the sickle. + +Whereupon she cried out in fear, and ran away as fast as she could. + +But Halewyn, having quickly overtaken her, dragged her off by force +to his castle. + +Going in, he met on the bridge his lady mother, who said to him: +"Where goest thou, Miserable, with this child?" + +He answered: + +"To bring honour to our house." + +And his lady mother let him pass, thinking him mad. + +He went into his room, opened the side of the girl beneath a breast +just budding, cut out the heart with the sickle, and drank the blood. + +But he got no more strength from it than he had before. + +And weeping bitter tears, he cried: "The sickle has played me +false." And he threw down into the moat both the heart and the body. + +And the lady Halewyn seeing this poor heart and body dropping into +the water, ordered that they should be taken out and brought to her. + +Seeing the body rent open under the breast, and the heart taken out, +she became afraid lest Siewert her first-born was following dark +practices. + +And she put the girl's heart back in her breast, and gave her a very +fine and Christian burial, and had a fair great cross made on her +winding-sheet, and afterwards she was put in the ground and a fair +mass said for the quiet of her soul. + + + + +IX. Of the heart of a maid and of the great strength which came to +Sir Halewyn. + +Sorely troubled, and falling on his knees, Halewyn said: "Alas, is the +spell then impotent? I sang, and she would not come to my singing! What +would you have me do now, Lord Prince of the Stones? If it is that +I must wait until nightfall, that I will do. Then, without doubt, +having no sun to hinder your powers, you will give me strength and +beauty, and all prowess, and you will send me the virgin I need." + +And he went at night to wander in the woods round about the cottages, +and there, singing his song, and looking out to see if any were coming. + +He saw by the light of the bright moon the daughter of Claes, a poor +mad man, nicknamed the Dog-beater, because he used to thump and pommel +grievously whomever he met, saying that these accursed dogs had robbed +him of his coat, and must give it him back again. + +This girl took care of Claes very well, and would not marry, though +she was a beautiful maid, saying: "Since he is simple, I cannot leave +him to look to himself." + +And every one, seeing her so stout-hearted, gave her, one some of +his cheese, another some beans, another some flour, and so they lived +together without wanting for food. + +The Miserable stood still at the edge of the wood and sang. And +the maid walked straight towards the singing and fell on her knees +before him. + +He went home to his castle, and she followed him, and entered in with +him, saying no word. + +On the stair he met his brother, just returned from boar-hunting, +who said, in mocking wise: + +"Ah, is the Miserable about to get us a bastard?" And to the girl: +"Well, mistress, thy heart must be fast set on my ugly brother that +thou must needs follow him in this wise, without a word spoken." + +But Halewyn, in a rage, hit out at his brother's face with his sword. + +Then, passing him by, went up into his own room. + +And there, having shut fast the door, from fear of his brother, +he stripped the girl quite naked, as he had seen the virgin in his +vision. And the girl said that she was cold. + +Quickly he opened her breast with the golden blade, under the left pap. + +And as the maid gave the death-cry, the heart came out of itself on +the blade. + +And the Miserable saw before his eyes the little mannikin coming out +of the stones of the wall, who said to him, grinning: + +"Heart on heart gives strength and beauty. Halewyn shall hang the +maid in the Gallows-field. And the body shall hang until the hour of +God." Then he went back into the wall. + +Halewyn put the heart on his breast, and felt it beating firmly and +taking root in his skin. And suddenly his bent back was straightened; +and his arm found such strength that he broke easily in two a heavy +oaken bench; and looking at himself in a mirror-glass he saw an image +so beautiful that he could scarce tell it for his own. + +And he felt in his veins the fire of youth burning. + +Going down into the great hall he found there at supper his father, +mother, brother, and sister. + +None of them would have known him but for his voice, which was +unchanged. + +And his mother rose and peered into his face to see him better. + +And he said to her: "Woman, I am thine own son, Siewert Halewyn, +the Invincible." + +But his brother, whom he had but lately smitten in the face, ran +towards him hotly, saying: "Cursed be the Invincible!" and struck +him with his knife. But the blade snapped off like glass against the +body of the Miserable; whereupon the younger brother seized him in +his arms, but the Miserable tore him off and threw him to one side +as if he had been a caterpillar. + +Then he rushed at him with his head down, like a battering-ram, but +as soon as his head touched the Miserable it was cut open, and the +blood ran down over his face. + +And his father and mother, his sister and the wounded brother, threw +themselves on their knees and asked his forgiveness, begging him, +since he had become so powerful, to bring them riches and honour. + +"That I will," said he. + + + + +X. How the Miserable robbed a Lombard goldsmith, and of the pleasant +speech of the ladies and gentlewomen. + +On the morrow, armed only with the sickle, for he despised other arms +on account of the strength which the spell gave him, Halewyn took the +body of the maid to the Gallows-field and there hanged it on the tree. + +Then he rode off to the city of Ghent. + +And the ladies, gentlewomen and maidens of the town, seeing him pass by +on his black horse, said among themselves: "Who is this fair horseman?" + +"'Tis," he cried right proudly, "Siewert Halewyn, who was called the +Ill-favoured one." + +"Nay, nay," said the bolder among them, "you are making fun of us, +My Lord, or else you have been changed by a fairy." + +"Yes," said he, "and, moreover, I had fleshly knowledge of her; +and so shall have of you, if I please." + +At these words the ladies and gentlewomen were not at all put out. + +And he went to the shop of a Lombard goldsmith in that town, who +had at one time and another lent him six-and-twenty florins. But the +goldsmith did not know him for himself. + +He told him that he was Sir Halewyn. + +"Ah," said the goldsmith, "then I pray, My Lord, that you will repay +me my six-and-twenty florins." + +But Halewyn, laughing: "Take me," he said, "to the room where thou +keepest thy gold." + +"My Lord," said the goldsmith, "that I will not, for all that I hold +you in high esteem." + +"Dog," said he, "if thou dost not obey me I will strike thee dead +instantly." + +"Ha!" said the goldsmith, "do not come blustering here, My Lord, for +I am neither serf nor peasant, but a free burgess of this town. And +if you are so minded as to lay your hands on me, I shall know how to +get redress, I promise you." + +Then Halewyn struck him, and the burgess called for help. + +Hearing this cry, apprentices to the number of six came down into +the shop, and, seeing Halewyn, ran to seize him. + +But he beat them off likewise and bade them show him where the gold +was kept. + +Which they did, saying one to another: "This is the Devil." + +And the goldsmith, weeping: "My Lord," said he, "do not take it all." + +"I shall take what I will," said Halewyn; and he filled his money-bag. + +And in this way he took from the goldsmith more than seven hundred +golden bezants. + +Then, seeing the poor man lamenting his lot, he struck him two or +three hard blows, telling him not to whine so loud, and that before +the month was out he would take from him double the amount. + + + + +XI. Of the arrogant arms of Sir Halewyn. + +And the Miserable became the richest, most powerful, and most feared +baron in the whole province. + +And blasphemously he compared himself to God. + +And considering that the old arms of Dirk, and his device, were too +mean for his new magnificence: + +He sent to Bruges for painters in heraldry to fashion them afresh. + +These painters put the old crow away in one quarter, and on a field +argent and sable blazoned a heart gules and a sickle or, with this +device: None can stand against me. + +Moreover, he had this same blazon fashioned into a great standard which +was flown from his castle keep. And also had it cut in stone over the +gate. And on his shield, which he caused to be made larger so that the +arrogant device might be seen to better advantage. And on his arms, +his clothes, and wherever it could be put, there he had it as well. + + + + +XII. How Sir Halewyn jousted with a knight of England. + +It so happened that at about this time My Lord of Flanders let call +a tournament. + +And sent out to all his lords and barons to come to Ghent for that +purpose. + +Halewyn went thither and set up his shield among the others. + +But the barons and lords, seeing the arrogant device and the great +size of the shield, were greatly put to offence thereat. + +And all of them jousted with him, but each was overthrown in turn. + +Among them was present an English knight of much prowess, who rode +out to the middle of the tourney-field and stood straight and proud +before Sir Halewyn. + +"Well," quoth he, "My Lord the Invincible, it displeases me to see thee +planted there so arrogantly and unhorsing us all in this fashion. Wilt +thou fight with me?" + +"Yes," said Sir Halewyn. + +"If I overcome thee, thou shalt be my servant and I shall take thee +with me into Cornwall." + +"Yes," said Sir Halewyn. + +"And cause thee to grease my horses' hooves, and empty the dung +from the stable; and find out whether thou art invincible at such +work also." + +"Yes," said Sir Halewyn. + +"And if thou art not invincible, the invincible stick shall thrash +thee invincibly." + +"Yes," said Sir Halewyn. + +"But if thou overcome me, this shall be thy guerdon: + +"Five-and-twenty bezants which are in the house of thy Lord, the +noble Count of Flanders; all the accoutrement of my horse, which is +of fine mail; his fair saddle of pear-wood, covered with leather, +and saddle-bows richly figured with ten horsemen lustily fighting and +with Our Lord driving out the devil from one possessed; furthermore +my helm of fine wrought steel, and on it a crest of silver, gilt +over, with spread wings, which may very well, notwithstanding thy +device, stand against thy bleeding heart, thy gaping sickle, and thy +miserable crow. Well, My Lord the Invincible, dost think thou shalt +win invincibly the five-and-twenty bezants, the helm of my head, +and the trappings of my horse?" + +"Yes," said Sir Halewyn. + +Then, after My Lord himself had given the signal, they ran together +with a great clatter. + +And the English knight was overthrown like the rest. + +Then all the ladies acclaimed and applauded the Miserable, crying out: +"Worship to Siewert Halewyn the noble, Siewert Halewyn the Fleming, +Siewert Halewyn the Invincible." + +And on his way back to the house of My Lord, there to feast with him, +he was by these ladies kissed, fondled, and made much of without stint. + +And, putting on the gear of the English knight, he went off to the +towns of Bruges, Lille, and Ghent, thieving and ravishing everywhere. + +And came back from each expedition with much booty. + +And felt the heart all the while pouring live strength into his breast +and beating against his skin. + +Then he went back to his own castle with the five-and-twenty bezants +and the arms of the knight of England. + +When he sounded the horn there came to him his mother, who, seeing him +so gilt over, was overcome with joy, and cried: "He brings us riches, +as he promised." + +"Yes," said Sir Halewyn. + +And she fell at his feet and kissed them. + +As also did the younger brother, saying: "Sir Brother thou hast lifted +us up from poverty, I will willingly serve thee." + +"So shouldst thou, indeed," said Halewyn. Then, going into the hall: +"I would sup," he said, "thou, woman, fetch me meat, and thou, +fellow, drink." + +And on the morrow, and every day thereafter, he made to serve him at +table, as if they had been his private servants, his father, mother, +brother, and sister, turn by turn. + + + + +XIII. Of the heart dried up and of the dame Halewyn. + +But one morning while he was at meat in his castle, when his father +and sister were gone to Bruges to buy corn-coloured cloth-of-scarlet +for their clothes, + +And he was being served, with all humility, by his mother and brother, + +He became suddenly quite cold, for the heart had ceased to beat. + +Putting his hand to his breast, he touched dried-up skin. + +Then he felt his face go back as it was before, his shoulders shrink +down, his back hump up, and all his body lessen in stature. + +Looking at his mother and brother in turn, he saw them laughing and +saying to each other: "See, here is our master back in his old ugly +skin, and with his old ugly face." + +"Ha, My Lord," said his brother, coming boldly up to him and speaking +insolently, "will you not take some of this clauwaert to hearten +yourself? You have no longer, it seems, your former strength." + +"Wilt try it?" said the Miserable, and struck him with his fist, +but did him no more hurt than if he had been a fly. + +Seeing this the younger brother grew bolder, and seating himself +close to Halewyn on the seat: + +"My lord," said he, "you have had pudding enough, I think, 'tis my +turn to eat." + +And he took the pudding from off his platter. + +"My lord son," said his mother, "now you shall give to me, who am old, +some of this old wine you have kept for yourself." + +And she took the cup out of his hand. + +"My lord brother," said the younger son, "methinks you have too +much of this roast of lamb with sweet chestnuts; I will take it, +if you please." + +And he put the roast of lamb before his own place. + +"My lord son," said his mother, "you do not much like, it seems, +this fair cheese and barley tart, give it to me, I pray you." + +And the Miserable, dumbfounded, gave it to her. + +"My lord brother," said the younger son, "you have been sitting there +long enough like an emperor, will you be pleased to stir your limbs +now and serve us?" + +And the Miserable, getting up, served them as he was bidden. + +"My lord son," said his mother, "I see you now submissive to our +orders, will you be pleased to ask my pardon for having so long kept +me standing like a private servant, fetching you food and drink, +though I am your mother?" + +And the Miserable fell at her feet. + +"My lord brother," said the younger son, "wilt thou be pleased to +fall at my feet likewise, and kiss them, for that thou hast made me +do the work of a serf?" + +"That I will not," said the Miserable. + +"Thou wilt not?" + +"I will not," said the Miserable, and stepped back a pace. + +"Come hither," said his brother. + +"I will not," said the Miserable. + +Then the younger ran at him, and, bearing him to the ground without +difficulty, began thumping and pommelling him, and striking him in the +face with his golden spurs, saying: "Avenge thyself, Siewert Halewyn +the Invincible. None can stand against thee, save I. Thou hast long +treated us as serfs in thy house, now I will treat thee as a cheese +and crush thee underfoot. Why dost thou not now caper as a kid, or +fly away as a bird, Siewert the enchanted?" and, going into a frenzy +of rage, he drew his knife, saying: "I will cut thee off thy head +unless thou cry mercy." + +"I will not," said the Miserable. + +But his mother, hearing these words, took quickly from the fire a +handful of embers, and notwithstanding their heat, threw them into +the eyes and mouth of the younger brother, saying: "Thou shalt not +kill my first-born, wicked son." + +And while the younger brother was howling by reason of the pain from +the embers, which blinded him, his mother took the knife from him, +and while he was twisting this way and that, swinging up his arms to +strike whomever he could, she threw him down, shut him up in the room, +and went out dragging her first-born after her. Then, although she was +feeble with age, she carried Halewyn up into the tower on her back, +as a shepherd carries a lamb (for he had quite lost his senses), +and there tended him and bathed his face and breast, which were torn +and bleeding, and there at nightfall left him and went away. + + + + +XIV. Of the great weakness of Sir Halewyn and of the days and nights +which he spent in the forest. + +The Miserable, alone and somewhat comforted, rose to his feet, and +was right glad to feel the sickle still at his belt; opened the door, +listened to make sure that he could hear nothing, and that his brother +was not there. + +And when the night was fully dark, went down the stair slowly, +sitting-wise. + +For he was so weakened by the blows and wounds he had received that +he could not hold himself upright by any means; and in this fashion +he went on until he reached the bridge, and, finding that still down, +crossed over it. + +And very wearily he made his way to the forest. + +But he could not, on account of his weakness, go so far as the +cottages, which were a good two leagues distant to the northward. + +So, lying down among the leaves, he sang. + +But no maid came, for the song could not be heard from so far away. + +And so passed the first day. + +When night came again, cold rain began to fall, which sent him into +a fever. But notwithstanding this he would not go back to his castle, +for fear of his brother. Shivering, and with his teeth a-chatter, he +dragged himself northward through the brake, and saw in a clearing +a fair pretty maid, rosy-cheeked, fresh, slender, and neat, and he +sang his song. But the girl did not come to him. + +And so passed the second day. + +That night the rain fell anew, and he could not move, so stiff was +he from the cold, and he sang, but no maid came. At dawn the rain +continued, and while he was lying there among the leaves a wolf came +and sniffed at him, thinking him dead, but on seeing it draw near he +cried out in a terrible fashion, and the wolf took fright and went +off. Then he grew hungry, but could find himself nothing to eat. At +vespers he sang anew, but no maid came. + +And so passed the third day. + +Towards midnight the sky cleared, and the wind grew warmer. But the +Miserable, though he was suffering greatly from hunger, thirst, and +weariness, dared not sleep. On the morning of the fourth day he saw +a girl coming towards him who seemed to be a burgess's daughter. The +girl would have run away on seeing him, but he cried out loudly: +"Help me! I am worn out with hunger and sickness." Then she drew near +to him and said: "I also am hungry." "Art thou," he said, "a maid? " +"Ah," said she, "I have had to flee from Bruges, because the priests +would have burnt me alive, on account of a brown mole which I have +on my neck, of the size of a pea, coming, they say, from my having +had fleshly commerce with the devil. But I have never seen the devil, +and do not know what he is like." + +He, without listening to her, asked again if she were a virgin, and, +as the girl said nothing, he sang his song. + +But she did not move from where she stood, only saying: "You have +a very sweet and strong voice for one so wasted with sickness and +hunger." + +Then he said to her: "I am the lord Siewert Halewyn. Go to my castle +and ask to be taken to my lady mother, and without speaking to any +one else, whosoever he be, tell her that her son is hard put to it +in the forest with hunger, fever, and weariness, and will die before +long if none bring him help." + +The girl went off as he bid her, but coming out of the wood she saw +in the Gallows-field the body of the maid hanging, and ran away in a +fright. Passing into the territory of Sir Roel de Heurne she craved +food and drink at the cottage of one of his peasants. And there she +told how she had found Sir Halewyn dying of hunger. But she was told +in reply that the said lord was crueller and more wicked than the +devil himself, and should be left to be eaten by the wolves and other +beasts of the forest. + +And the Miserable waited, lying in the leaves in great anguish. + +And so passed the fourth day. + +And at dawn of the fifth, having seen no more of the girl, he supposed +that she had been caught by the priests and taken back to Bruges to +be burnt. + +Quite disheartened, and chilled with the cold, and saying that he +would soon die, he cursed the Prince of the Stones. + +Nevertheless, at vespers he sang once more. + +And he was then by the side of a forest way. + +And he saw coming through the trees a fair maid, who fell on her +knees before him. + +And he did to her as he had done to the others. + +Then rose full of fresh strength, vigour, and beauty, and with the +heart resting against his own went off to the Gallows-field, carrying +the body, and there hanged it by that of the first virgin. + + + + +XV. How the Miserable, having hanged fifteen virgins in the +Gallows-field, held wicked revels and cruel orgies. + +Sir Halewyn became most powerful and greatly feared, and killed up +to fifteen virgins, whom he hanged in the Gallows-field. + +And he led a riotous life, eating, drinking, and carousing continually. + +All those ladies who had made fun of him in the days of his impotence +and ugliness were brought to his castle. + +And having had his will of them he turned them out of doors like +bitches, so wreaking upon them his evil vengeance. + +And from Lille, Ghent, and Bruges came the most beautiful courtesans, +with their badge on their arms, and they ministered to his pleasure +and to that of his friends, among whom the more evil were Diederich +Pater-noster, so called because he was a great frequenter of churches; +Nellin the Wolf, who in battle attacked only the fallen, as wolves +do; and Baudouin Sans Ears, who in his court of justice always cried: +"Death, death," without waiting to hear any defence whatever. + +In company with the fair courtesans these same lords held revels and +orgies without end, and took from their poor peasants all they had, +corn, cheese, jewels, cocks, oxen, calves, and swine. + +Then, having stuffed themselves as full as they could hold, threw to +their dogs choice viands and rich cakes. + +Gave to be broken and pounded up for their hawks and falcons, the +meat of fowls, cockerels, and doves; had the hooves of their horses +bathed in wine. + +Oftentimes until midnight, or even until cock-crow, there would be +beating of drums, trilling of pipes, squeaking of viols, skirling of +bagpipes, and winding of horns, for their entertainment. + + + + +XVI. How the burgesses of the good town of Ghent gave protection to +the virgins of the domain of Halewyn. + +Meanwhile in the cottages of the peasant folk were tears, hunger, +and great misery. + +And when the fifteenth maid had been taken in the domain of Halewyn, + +The mothers prayed to God that he would make them barren, or else +that they might bear men-children only. + +And the fathers complained and said to one another sadly: "Is it not +a pitiful thing to see these sweet and gentle flowers of youth so +brought to death and dishonour!" + +And some among them said: "Let us go by night to the good town of +Ghent, taking with us all our virgin daughters, and tell the whole +tale to the burgesses, begging their blessed protection for them, +and leaving them there in the town if we are so permitted. So they +will escape death at the hands of our master." + +Every one who heard this plan thought it a good one; and all the +peasants with daughters who were virgins took them off to Ghent, +and there told the story to the commune, and the good men gave them +protection. + +Then with lighter hearts the peasants returned to the domain of +Halewyn. + + + + +XVII. Of what Sir Halewyn did on the borders of his domain. + +Not long afterwards a hard winter set in, with bitter cold and +furious storm. + +And the heart of the fifteenth virgin no longer beat strong against +Sir Halewyn's breast. + +And he sang, but none came. Wherefore he was disappointed and angry. + +But calling to mind that there were, in the castle of Sir Roel de +Heurne, two girls supposed by common report to be virgins, + +And that this castle was no more than the fifth part of a league from +the borders of his land, + +And that therefore the two maids would be able to hear and come to +the call of his song, + +He went each night and stationed himself on the farthest border of +his demesne, and there sang towards the said castle, notwithstanding +the bitter cold, and the snow beginning to fall abundantly. + + + + +XVIII. Of the damosels Magtelt and Anne-Mie, and of Schimmel the +dapple-gray. + +While the Miserable was roaming the woods, Sir Roel de Heurne and the +lady Gonde, his wife, richly clad, and wrapt round with deer-skins, +which give particular warmth to the body, were sitting snugly on their +coffers before their good fire of oaken logs, chatting together as +old folk will. + +But it was the Lady Gonde who spoke most, being the woman. + +And she said: + +"My good man, do you hear the storm raging furiously in the forest?" + +"Yes," answered Sir Roel. + +And his lady said further: + +"God has been kind to give us, against this great cold, such a fine +castle so strongly built, such good clothes, and such a bright fire." + +"Yes," answered the Sire. + +"But above all," said she, "he has shown us his divine grace by giving +us such good and brave children." + +"True," answered the Sire. + +"For," said she, "nowhere could you find a young man more valiant, +courteous, gentle, and fitter to uphold our name than Toon, our son." + +"Yes," said the Sire, "he has saved my life in battle." + +"But," said his lady, "he has this fault, that he is so scant of +words that we scarce know the tone of his voice. He is well called +the Silent." + +"There is better worth to a man," said the Sire, "in a good sword +than in a long tongue." + +"Here I see you, my lord," said the lady, "pent up with your +reflections, for sadness and gravity are the lot of old age, but I +know well a certain maid who would smooth out your forehead and set +you laughing." + +"'Tis possible," said the Sire. + +"Yes," said she, "it is certainly possible, for when Magtelt our +daughter comes into this room, I shall see my lord and husband turn +happy at once." + +At these words Sir Roel nodded his head and smiled a little. + +"Yes, yes," said his lady, "for when Magtelt laughs, then laughs my +old Roel; when she sings, then my old Roel grows thoughtful and nods +his head happily, and if she passes by, he follows with smiling eyes +each step of his little daughter." + +"True, Gonde," said the Sire. + +"Yes, yes," said she, "for who is the well-being and joy of this +house? 'Tis not I, who am old, and losing my teeth one by one; nor you +either, my fellow in antiquity; nor the Silent either; nor Anne-Mie +the private servant, who, though she is very sweet and healthy in her +person, is something too quiet in her ways, and laughs only when she +is set laughing. But she who makes our old age happy, she who is the +nightingale in the house, she who is always coming and going, passing +and repassing, flying hither and thither, singing and singing again, +as happy as a peal of bells at Christmastide: 'tis our good daughter." + +"So it is," said the Sire. + +"Ah," said his lady further, "it is a happy thing for us to have +such a child, since both of us have already cold in our feet at all +seasons. For without her we should pass our time in sadness, and from +our old feet the cold would creep up to our hearts, and so we should +be taken to our graves more quickly." + +"Yes, wife," said the Sire. + +"Ah," said she, "another damosel would have wished for love-suitors, +and to go to the court of My Lord to get a husband. But our little +maid gives no thought to that, for hereabout she loves no one but +ourselves, and her who goes everywhere with her, and is as a sister +to her, Anne-Mie the private servant; but not without teasing her a +little in order to make her laugh." + +"True," said the Sire. + +"Yes, yes," said his lady, "and every one loves her, admires her, and +respects her, pages, grooms, varlets, men-at-arms, private servants, +serfs, and peasants, so joyous and merry is she, so brave and gentle +is her bearing. There is no one, even down to Schimmel, the great +war-horse, who does not follow her like a dog. Ah! When he sees her +coming he whinnies joyously; and she alone must bring him his oats and +corn; from none other will he take a grain. She treats him like a man, +and often gives him a great draught of clauwaert, which he drinks up +with relish. She makes herself understood to him by words, but she must +never be cross with him, or he makes as if to weep, and looks at her +with so sad a manner that she cannot withstand it and then calls him +to her, saying: 'Beautiful Schimmel, brave Schimmel,' and other soft +words; hearing which the good dapple-gray gets up and comes close to +her to have more compliments. He suffers no one on his back but she, +and when he is carrying her he is as proud as My Lord of Flanders at +the head of his good barons and knights. So she has her sovereignty +over every one, by joyousness, goodness, and fair speaking." + +"Yes," said the Sire. + +"Ah," said his lady, "may the very good God watch over our little one, +and may our old ears hear this fledgeling nightingale singing always." + +"Amen," said the Sire. + + + + +XIX. How Magtelt sang to Sir Roel the lied of the Lion, and the song +of the Four Witches. + +While Sir Roel and the lady Gonde were talking together, + +The snow had fallen in great quantity, + +And had quite covered Magtelt and Anne-Mie, who were coming back from +having taken an eagle-stone to the wife of Josse, for her to bind to +her left thigh and so get ease in her lying-in. + +And the girls came into the great hall, where Sir Roel was sitting +with his good wife. + +Magtelt, drawing close to her father, knelt to him in salutation. + +And Sir Roel, having raised her up, kissed her on the brow. + +But Anne-Mie stayed quietly in a corner, as became a private servant. + +And it was a good sight to see these two maids wholly covered with +snow. + +"Jesus-Maria," said the lady Gonde, "see these two sillies, what have +they been doing to get themselves clothed in snow in this fashion? To +the fire quickly, children; draw to the fire and dry yourselves." + +"Silence, wife," said Sir Roel, "you make youth faint-heart. In my +young days I went through cold, snow, hail, thunder, and tempest +without a thought. And so do I still, when there is need to, and +I will have Magtelt do the same. Thanks be to God! 'tis not from a +fire of logs that a daughter of ours must get warmth, but from the +natural fire which burns in the bodies of the children of old Roel." + +But Magtelt, seeing him about to grow angry, went and knelt at +his feet. + +"Lord father," said she, "we are not cold at all, for we have been +leaping, dancing and frolicking so heartily, thumping and drubbing each +other, that we turned winter into spring; furthermore we sang some fine +songs, which I beg you will give me leave to sing over again to you." + +"So I will, little one," said Sir Roel. So Magtelt sang him the lied, +of Roeland de Heurne the Lion, who came back from the Holy Land, +and brought thence a great sword; and also the song of the Four +Witches, wherein you may hear mewling of cats, bleating of goats, +and the noise which they make with their tails in rainy weather. + +And Sir Roel forgot his anger. + +When Magtelt had done singing he caused supper to be served and the +cross lit up, which threw over them a bright light from the four +lamps burning at the end of each arm. + +And he made his daughter sit at his side. + +Anne-Mie came likewise to sit at table, beside the lady Gonde, who +said: "Young company warms old folk." + +And there were served to them that evening fine white bread, beef +salted and smoked in the chimney among the sweet smoke of fir-cones, +Ghent sausage, which was invented, they say, by Boudwin the Glutton, +bastard of Flanders, and old clauwaert. + +Supper finished, and a prayer spoken, Magtelt and Anne-Mie went off +to bed, in the same room, for Magtelt loved Anne-Mie like a sister +and would have her by her side at all times. + + + + +XX. Of the sixteenth virgin hanged. + +Magtelt, with laughter, singing, and frolic, soon fell asleep. + +But Anne-Mie, being somewhat cold, could not close her eyes. + +And the Miserable came and stationed himself on the border of his +land. Thence his voice rang out clear, soft, and melodious. + +And Anne-Mie heard it, and, forgetting that she was but lightly clad, +rose up and went out of the castle by the postern. + +When she came into the open the snow smote harshly on her face, +her breast, and her shoulders. + +And she tried to shield herself against this bitter cold and evil snow, +but could not, for she had lain down to sleep nearly naked. + +Going towards the song she passed barefoot across the moat, whereof +the water was hard frozen. + +And trying to mount the farther bank, which was high and slippery, +she fell; + +And cut a great wound in her knee. + +Having picked herself up she entered the forest, wounding her bare +feet on the stones, and her numbed body on the branches of trees. + +But she went her way without heeding. + +When she drew near to the Miserable she fell on her knees before +him. And he did to her as he had done to the others. + +And Anne-Mie was the sixteenth virgin hanged in the Gallows-field. + + + + +XXI. How Magtelt sought Anne-Mie. + +On the morrow Magtelt, being, as was customary, the first awake, +said her prayers to My Lord Jesus and to Madam Saint Magtelt, her +blessed patron. + +Having besought them earnestly for Sir Roel, the lady Gonde, the +Silent, and all the household, most particularly for Anne-Mie, +she looked at the maid's bed, and seeing its curtains half drawn +she supposed that her companion was still asleep; and so, putting on +her fine clothes, she kept saying as she moved up and down the room, +or looked at herself in the mirror-glass: + +"Ho, Anne-Mie, wake up, wake up, Anne-Mie! Who sleeps late comes last +to grass. The sparrows are awake and the hens also, and already their +eggs are laid. Wake up, Anne-Mie, Schimmel is neighing in the stable, +and the sun is shining bright on the snow; my lord father is scolding +the servants, and my lady mother is interceding for them. Canst +not smell the savoury odour of beans and good beef broiled with +spices? I can smell it well enough, and it makes me hungry; wake up, +Anne-Mie." But the girl could not possess herself in patience any +longer, and threw the curtains wide open. + +Finding no Anne-Mie: "There!" she said, "the rogue, she has gone down +without me; and without me, no doubt, is at this same moment eating +those good beans and beef." + +And going down the stairs at a run Magtelt entered the great hall, +where, seeing Sir Roel her father, she knelt to him and asked his +blessing, and then likewise to the lady Gonde. + +But her mother said to her: "Where is Anne-Mie?" + +"I cannot tell," said Magtelt, "she is having some fun with us, +I suppose, hidden in some corner." + +"That," said Sir Roel, "is not her way, for if any one here makes +fun of others 'tis not she, but thou, little one." + +"My lord father," said Magtelt, "you make me anxious by talking so." + +"Well," said Sir Roel, "go and seek Anne-Mie; as for us, mother, +let us eat; our old stomachs cannot wait for food as well as these +young ones." + +"Ah," said the lady Gonde, "I have no mind to eat; go, Magtelt, +and find me Anne-Mie." + +But Sir Roel helped himself to a great platterful of beans and good +beef, and, falling to it, said that nothing was so easily put out, +troubled, made anxious, as a woman, and this for nothing at all. + +Nevertheless he was himself a little uneasy, and from time to time +looked up at the door, saying that the rascal of a girl would show +herself suddenly from somewhere. + +But Magtelt, after searching the whole castle over, came back and said: +"I can find Anne-Mie nowhere." + + + + +XXII. How Magtelt wept bitterly, and of the fine dress which she had. + +And Magtelt had great sorrow in her heart, and wept, and made lament, +crying: "Anne-Mie, where art thou? Would I could see thee again!" And +falling on her knees before Sir Roel, she said: "My lord father, I pray +you to send our men-at-arms in goodly number in search for Anne-Mie." + +"So I will," said he. + +The men-at-arms went out, but dared not pass on to the lands of +Halewyn from fear of the spell. + +And on their return they said: "We can hear nothing of Anne-Mie." + +And Magtelt went up and stretched herself on her bed, and prayed to +the good God to send her back her sweet comrade. + +On the second day she went and sat before the glazed window, and +without intermission looked out all day at the countryside and the +falling snow, and watched to see if Anne-Mie were coming. + +But Anne-Mie could not come. + +And on the third day the lids of her eyes bled for weeping. And on +that day the snow ceased falling, the sky became clear, the sun shone +therein, and the earth was hard frozen. + +And every day in the same place went and sat the sorrowing Magtelt, +watching the countryside, thinking of Anne-Mie and saying nothing. + +Sir Roel, seeing her so low-hearted, sent to Bruges for some blue +cloth-of-scarlet, for her to make herself a dress, and fine Cyprian +gold for the border, and fine gold buttons of rich workmanship. + +Magtelt worked away at making this dress, but took no pleasure at +all at the thought of all this fine apparel. + +And so passed away the week, and each day Magtelt worked at her dress, +saying nothing and singing never, but weeping oftentimes. + +On the fifth day, when the dress was finished, well trimmed with the +Cyprian gold and embellished with the rich buttons, the lady Gonde +bade Magtelt don it, and then showed her her magnificence in a great +mirror-glass; but Magtelt had no heart to be glad at seeing herself +so beautiful, for she was thinking of Anne-Mie. + +And the lady Gonde, seeing how sad she was and silent, wept also, +saying: "Since our Magtelt stopped singing I have felt more bitterly +the chill of winter and old age." + +And Sir Roel made no murmur, but became sullen and pensive, and drank +clauwaert all day. + +And at times, turning angry, he bade Magtelt sing and be cheerful. + +And the maid sang merry lieds to the old man, who then turned joyous +again, and Gonde as well. + +And they spent all their time before the fire, nodding their heads. And +they said: "The nightingale is come back again to the house, and her +music makes the fires of spring sunshine stir in our bones." + +And Magtelt, having done singing, would go off to hide herself in a +corner and weep for Anne-Mie. + + + + +XXIII. Of Toon the Silent. + +On the eighth day, the Silent went wolf-hunting. + +Following a certain beast he rode into the domain of Halewyn. + +And at vespers the lady Gonde, leaving the great hall to go to the +kitchen for the ordering of supper, on opening the door saw Toon before +her. He seemed loth to come in, and hung his head as if with shame. + +The lady Gonde, going to him, said: "My son, why do you not come into +the hall to bid good evening to the lord your father?" + +The Silent, without answering, went into the hall, and muttering +short and sullen words by way of salutation, went to sit in the +darkest corner. + +And the lady Gonde said to Sir Roel: "Our son is angry at something, +I think, since he goes off into a dark corner far away from us, +against his habit." + +Sir Roel said to the Silent: "Son, come hither to the light that we +may see thy face." + +He obeyed, and Sir Roel, the lady Gonde, and the sorrowing Magtelt +saw that he was bleeding from the head and from the neck, and cast +down his eyes, not daring to look them in the face. + +The lady Gonde cried out with fright on seeing the blood, and Magtelt +came to him, and Sir Roel said: "Who has given my son this shamed +countenance, this downcast heart, and these wounds in his body?" + +The Silent answered: "Siewert Halewyn." + +"Why," said Sir Roel, "was my son so presumptuous as to attack the +Invincible?" + +The Silent answered: "Anne-Mie hanged in the Gallows-field of Siewert +Halewyn." + +"Woe!" cried Sir Roel, "our poor maid hanged! shame and sorrow +upon us!" + +"Lord God," said Gonde, "you smite us hard indeed." And she wept. + +But Magtelt could neither weep nor speak from the bitterness of the +grief which laid hold upon her. + +And she looked at her brother fixedly, and his sunken face blenched, +and from the wounds against his eyes dropped tears of blood, and his +body was shaken with spasms. + +And the Silent sank into a seat, weeping dully like a wounded lion. + +"Ha," quoth Sir Roel, hiding his face, "this is the first man of the +house of Heurne that has found need to sit weeping. Shame upon us, +and without redress, for there is a spell woven." + +And the Silent stuffed his fingers into the wound in his neck, +pressing out the blood; but he felt nothing of the pain. + +"Toon," said the lady Gonde, "do not dirty your wound with your +fingers in this wise; you will poison it, my son." + +But the Silent did not seem to hear. + +"Toon," said the lady Gonde, "do not do it; I, your mother, order +you. Let me wash away this blood and dress with ointment these +ugly sores." + +While she hurried to prepare the ointment and to warm the water in +a washing-basin, Toon did not cease his groaning and weeping. And he +tore out the hair from his beard in a rage. + +And Sir Roel, watching him, said: "When a man weeps 'tis blood and +shame, shame without redress. Halewyn has a spell. Ah, presumptuous +one, must thou then go to his castle to brave the Invincible?" + +"Woe, my lord," said the lady Gonde, "be not so bitter angry with the +Silent, for he showed fine courage in wishing to avenge Anne-Mie on +the Miserable." + +"Yes," said Sir Roel, "fine courage that brings shame to our house." + +"Tell," said she, "tell, Toon, the tale to thy father, to show him +that thou art a worthy son to him none the less." + +"I wish it," said Sir Roel. + +"My lord father," said the Silent, groaning, and speaking in short +breaths, "Anne-Mie hanging, Siewert Halewyn near to the gallows. He +was laughing. I ran at him, cutting at his belly with my sword in the +fashion of a cross to break the spell. Invincible! He laughed, saying: +'I will take Magtelt.' I struck him with a knife; the blade turned. He +laughed. He said: 'I do not care for punishment, be off.' I did not +go. I struck him with sword and knife together; in vain. He laughed. He +said again: 'Be off.' I could not. Then he struck me with the flat +of his sword in the neck and breast, and with the hilt in the back, +like a serf. He laughed. I lost sense from the blows. Beaten like a +serf, my lord father, I could do naught against him." + +Sir Roel, having heard Toon speak, was less angered, understanding +that he had not been presumptuous, thinking also of his great pain +and of his bitter groaning and his grievous shame. + +With the ointment ready and the water warm, the lady Gonde set to +work to dress the wounds of her son, particularly that on his neck, +which was a deep one. + +But Magtelt wept never a tear, and soon went off to her bed, not +without a blessing from Sir Roel her father, and her lady mother. + +The three stayed a long while together before the fire, father, mother, +and son, without a word spoken, for the Silent, moaning all the while, +could not bear his defeat, and the lady Gonde wept and prayed; and +Sir Roel, sad and ashamed, hid his face. + + + + +XXIV. How the damosel Magtelt made a good resolution. + +Magtelt, before she lay down on her bed, prayed, but not aloud. And +her face was hard set with anger. + +And having undressed she lay down in her bed, tugging at her breast +with her finger-nails from time to time, as if she were fighting +for breath. + +And her breathing was as if she were in agony. + +For she was bitter sad and out of heart. + +But she did not weep. + +And she heard the high wind, forerunner of snow, lifting over the +forest, and roaring like a stream in spate after heavy rain. + +And it tossed against the window glass dried leaves and branches, +which beat on the pane like dead men's finger-nails. + +And it howled and whistled sadly in the chimney. + +And the sorrowing maid saw in her mind's eye Anne-Mie hanging in the +Gallows-field and her poor body pecked by the crows, and she thought +of the stain on her brave brother's honour, and of the fifteen poor +virgins outraged by the Miserable. + +But she did not weep. + +For in her breast was a dumb pain, harsh anguish, and a bitter thirst +for vengeance. + +And she asked very humbly of Our Lady if it were a good thing to +let the Miserable any longer go killing the maidens of the land +of Flanders. + +And at cock-crow she rose from her bed, and her eyes were bright, +and proud was her countenance, and her head held high, and she said: +"I will go to Halewyn." + +And throwing herself on her knees she prayed to the very strong God +to give her courage and strength for the revenge of Anne-Mie, Toon +the Silent, and the fifteen virgins. + + + + +XXV. Of the sword of the Lion. + +At sun-up she went to Sir Roel, who was still in bed, on account of +the cold. + +Seeing her come in and fall on her knees before him, he said: "What +wilt thou, little one?" + +"My lord father," she said, "may I go to Halewyn?" + +At this he became afraid, and saw well enough that Magtelt, unable +to rid her heart of the thought of Anne-Mie, was minded to avenge +her. And he said with love and anger: + +"No, my daughter, no, not thou; who goes there will not come again!" + +But seeing her go out of the room he never supposed that she would +fail in her obedience. + +And Magtelt went thence to the lady Gonde, who was praying in the +chapel for the repose of Anne-Mie's soul; and she pulled at her +mother's dress, to show that she was there. + +When the lady Gonde turned her head, Magtelt fell on her knees +before her: + +"Mother," said she, "may I go to Halewyn?" + +But her lady mother: "Oh no, child, no, not thou; who goes there will +not come again!" + +And so saying, she opened her arms and let fall the golden ball +wherewith she warmed her hands, so that the embers spread this way +and that on the floor. Then she fell to moaning, weeping, trembling, +and chattering with her teeth, and embraced the girl tightly as if +she would never let her go. + +But she never supposed that she could fail in her obedience. + +And Magtelt went thence to Toon, who, despite his wounds, was already +out of bed, and seated on his coffer, warming himself before a +new-lit fire. + +"Brother," she said, "may I go to Halewyn?" + +Saying this she held herself straight before him. + +The Silent lifted his head and looked at her severely, waiting for +her to speak further. + +"Brother," she said, "Siewert Halewyn has killed this sweet maid whom +I loved; and has done the same to fifteen other pitiful virgins, +who are hanging in the Gallows-field shamefully; he is for this +country a greater evil than war, death, and pestilence; brother, +I would kill him." + +But Toon looked at Magtelt and answered nothing. + +"Brother," said she, "thou must not refuse me, for my heart bids +me go. Canst thou not see how sad and downcast I am in this house, +and how I shall die of sorrow if I do not that which I should. But +having been to him I shall come back joyous and singing as before." + +But the Silent said not a word. + +"Ah," she said, "dost fear for me, seeing how many good knights have +assailed him and been by him shamefully overthrown, even thyself, my +brave brother, who carriest even now his marks? I am not ignorant that +on his shield is written: 'None can stand against me.' But what others +could not, one may do. He goes glorying in his strength, more terrible +than an oliphant, prouder than a lion, thinking himself invincible, +but when the beast goes with assurance the hunter follows the more +easily. Brother, may I go to Halewyn?" + +When Magtelt had reached so far in her speech, suddenly there +fell from the wall whereon it was fastened a fair sword well set +and sharpened, and with the blade stout to the hilt. The handpiece +was of cedar of Lebanon, set out with golden cresslets, and in the +castle this sword was held to be of marvellous virtue and holiness, +because it had been brought from the crusade by Roeland de Heurne, +the Lion. And none dared use it. + +The sword, falling, lay at the feet of Magtelt. + +"Brother," said Magtelt, crossing herself, "the good sword of the +Lion has fallen at my feet; 'tis the very strong God showing thus +his will. He must be obeyed, brother; let me go to Halewyn." + +And Toon the Silent, crossing himself as Magtelt had done, answered: + +"'Tis all one to me where thou go, if thou cherish thine honour and +carry thy crown straight." + +"Brother," she said, "I thank you." And the noble maid began to +tremble mightily from head to foot; and she who had not shed a +tear on hearing of Anne-Mie's death and her brother's dishonour, +fell to weeping abundantly, whereby her bitter anger was melted, +and bursting into tears by reason of her great joy she said again: +"Brother, brother, 'tis the hour of God! I go to the reckoning!" + +And she took the good sword. + +The Silent, seeing her so brave, lifted himself straight before her +and put his hand on her shoulder. "Go," said he. + +And she went out. + + + + +XXVI. Of the noble apparel of the maid Magtelt. + +In her own room she dressed herself in her most beautiful clothes as +quickly as she could. + +What did the fair maid put on her white body? A bodice finer than silk. + +And over the fine bodice? + +A robe of cloth-of-scarlet of Flemish blue, whereon were the arms +of de Heurne marvellously worked, and the edges next to the feet and +the neck embroidered with fine Cyprian gold. + +Wherewith did the fair maid bind in her slender waist? + +With a girdle of the hide of a lion, studded with gold. + +What had the fair maid on her beautiful shoulders? + +Her great keirle, which was of cramoisy stitched with Cyprian gold, +and covered her from head to foot, for it was an ample cloak. + +What had the fair maid on her proud head? + +A fine crown of beaten gold, whence fell tresses of pale hair as long +as herself. + +What held she in her little hand? + +The blessed sword brought from the crusade. + +So apparelled she went out to the stable, and harnessed Schimmel, +the great war-horse, with his saddle of State, a fine leathern seat, +painted in divers colours, and richly worked with gold. + +And they set out together, through the snow falling thickly. + + + + +XXVII. How Sir Roel and the lady Gonde questioned Toon the Silent, +and of what he answered. + +While Magtelt was on her way to Halewyn, and when the first hour of +her journey had already gone by, the lady Gonde questioned Sir Roel: +"Sir," she said, "do you know where our daughter may be?" + +Sir Roel said that he knew nothing of it; and speaking to the Silent: +"Son," said he, "dost thou know where thy sister has gone?" + +The Silent answered quietly: "Magtelt is a brave maid; whom God leads +he leads well." + +"Sir," said the lady Gonde, "do not put yourself to the trouble of +questioning him further, for saying so much he has used up his words." + +But Sir Roel to Toon: "Son, dost thou not know where she is?" + +"Magtelt," answered he, "is a fair maid, and carries her crown +straight." + +"Ah," exclaimed the lady Gonde, "I am growing anxious; where is +she then?" + +And she went off to search the castle thoroughly. + +But coming back she said to Sir Roel: "She is nowhere in the house; +she has defied our orders and gone to Halewyn." + +"Wife," said Roel, "that cannot be. Children, in this country, were +always obedient to their parents." + +"Toon," said she, "where is she? Toon, do you not know?" + +"The Miserable," he answered, "fears the beautiful maid; whom God +leads he leads well." + +"Roel," cried out the lady Gonde, "he knows where our Magtelt has +gone!" + +"Son, answer," said Sir Roel. + +The Silent answered: + +"The sword of the crusade fell from the wall at the maid's feet. Whom +God guides succeeds in everything." + +"Toon," cried the lady Gonde, "where is Magtelt?" + +"The virgin," he said, "rides without fear, she goes faster than the +armed man: whom God leads he leads well." + +The lady Gonde groaned: + +"Ah," she said, "our Magtelt will be killed, even now she is stiff +frozen, sweet Jesus! The sword of the crusade is of no avail against +Siewert Halewyn." + +The Silent answered: + +"He glories in his strength, thinking himself invincible, but when +the beast goes with assurance the hunter follows more easily." + +"Wicked son, how couldst thou think to send the little bird to the +hawk, the virgin to the enemy of virgins?" + +The Silent answered: + +"She will come whither none looks to see her: whom God leads he +leads well." + +"Sir," said the lady Gonde to Roel, "you hear what he says; she has +gone to Halewyn, and 'tis this wicked son that gave her leave." + +Sir Roel going to Toon: + +"Son," said he, "we had here but one joy, that was our Magtelt. Thou +hast abused thy privilege in giving her leave to go thither. If she +comes not back to us by nightfall I will curse thee and banish thee +from my house. May God hear me, and take from thee, in this world +bread and salt, and in the other thy portion in Paradise." + +"God," said the Silent, "will guide the sword. Whosoever has done +wrong, on him let fall the punishment." + +Gonde began crying out, weeping and making dole. Roel bade her be +silent, and sent a goodly troop of men-at-arms in the direction she +had taken. + +But they came back without having seen anything of Magtelt, for +they had not dared to go into the territory of Halewyn by reason of +the spell. + + + + +XXVIII. The riding of the maid Magtelt. + +Singing and winding her horn, rides the noble damosel. + +And she is beautiful with a beauty from heaven; fresh and rosy are +her cheeks. + +And straight she carries her crown. + +And her little hand holds fast beneath her keirle the good sword of +Roel the Lion. + +And wide open are her fearless eyes, searching the forest for Sir +Halewyn. + +And she listens for the sound of his horse. + +But she hears nothing, except, in the heavy silence, the still sound +of snowflakes falling quietly like feathers. + +And she sees nothing, except the air whitened with snow, and white +also the long road, and white also the leafless trees. + +What is it makes the flame glow in her clear brown eyes? It is her +high courage. + +Why does she carry so straight her head and her crown? Because of +the great strength in her heart. + +What is it so swells her breast? The cruel thought of Anne-Mie, +and her brother's shame and the great crimes of Sir Halewyn. + +And ceaselessly she looks to see if he be not coming, and if she can +hear nothing of the sound of his horse. + +But she sees nothing, except the air whitened with snow, and white +also the long road, and white also the leafless trees. + +And she hears nothing, except, in the heavy silence, the still sound +of snowflakes falling quietly like feathers. + +And she sings. + +Then, speaking to Schimmel, she said: "Together, good Schimmel, we are +going to a lion. Canst not see him in his cavern, awaiting passers-by, +and devouring poor maids?" + +And Schimmel, hearing her, whinnied joyously. + +"Schimmel," said Magtelt, "thou art glad, I see, to be going to the +revenge of Anne-Mie with the good sword." + +And Schimmel whinnied a second time. + +And Magtelt sought Sir Halewyn everywhere as she went through the +forest. And she listened well for the sound of his horse, and looked +to see if he were nowhere coming. + +And she saw nothing, except the air whitened with snow, and white +also the long road, and white also the leafless trees. + +And she heard nothing, except, in the heavy silence, the still sound +of snowflakes falling quietly like feathers. + +And she wound her horn. + + + + +XXIX. Of the crow and the sparrow, of the hound, the horse and the +seven echoes. + +When she reached the middle part of the forest, she saw through the +thick snowflakes Sir Halewyn coming towards her. + +The Miserable had that day on his body a fine dress of blue cloth, +on which was broidered in two colours his ugly arms. Round his waist +he had a fair belt studded with lumps of gold, and at his belt the +golden sickle, and over his dress a fair opperst-kleed of corn-coloured +cloth-of-scarlet. + +Riding on his roan horse he came up to Magtelt, and she saw that he +was handsome. + +Before his horse, barking and making a great noise, ran a hound like +a wolf, which, on seeing Schimmel, leapt at him and bit him. But +Schimmel, with a great kick which he let fly, set him dancing a sorry +dance, and singing a pitiful song over his broken paw. + +"Ah," thought the maid, "God grant, brave Schimmel, that I may do +better for the master than thou hast done for the dog." + +And the Miserable came to her: + +"Salutation," he said, "fair maid with clear brown eyes." + +"Salutation," she said, "Siewert Halewyn the Invincible." + +But the Miserable: "What brings thee," he said, "into my lands?" + +"My heart," said Magtelt, "bade me come, I wished greatly to see thee, +and am content now that I can look at thee face to face." + +"So," said he, "have done and shall do all virgins, even more beautiful +than thou art." + +While they were talking together the wounded hound made a rush at the +horse and hung on to Halewyn's opperst-kleed as if he would drag him +down to the ground. + +Having done this, he went off and sat down in the snow beside the road, +and there lifting up his muzzle howled most lamentably. + +"See," said he, "my hound crying out to death. Hast no fear, maid?" + +"I go," she said, "in God's keeping." + +Having moved forward a little way, talking and riding together, they +saw in the air above their heads, a crow of great size, on whose neck +was perched an angry little sparrow, pecking him, clutching him, +pulling out his feathers and piping furiously. Wounded, torn open, +flying this way and that, right, left, upward, downward, banging +against the trees blindly, and croaking with pain, this crow at length +fell dead, with his eyes pecked out, across Halewyn's saddle. Having +looked at it a moment, he tossed it aside into the road; while the +sparrow flew off to a bough, and there, shaking out his feathers +merrily, fell a-piping at the top of his voice in celebration of +his victory. + +"Ah," said Magtelt, laughing to the sparrow, "thou art of noble blood, +little bird; come hither, I will find thee a fair cage and give thee +thy fill of wheat, millet, hemp, and linseed." + +But Halewyn became mightily angry: "Common little insolent!" he cried, +"would that I had thee in a snare! Shouldst not then sing for long +thy victory over this noble crow." + +None the less the sparrow went on singing without a break, and in +this wise seemed to mock at Halewyn, who said to Magtelt: + +"Dost dare to applaud and give heart to this little animal, +knowing that my shield bears on it the crow of my glorious ancestor +Dirk! Knowest thou not that like him thou hast but little longer +to sing?" + +"I," she said, "shall sing as long as it pleases God, my master." + +"There is for thee," said he, "no other master than I, for here I +rule alone." Suddenly he turned very cold, for the heart of Anne-Mie, +though it still beat, was become like ice in his breast. So, thinking +that this heart was about to dry up, he said to Magtelt: "Thou comest +in good season, fair virgin." + +"Whom God leads," said she, "comes always in good season." + +"But," he said, "who art thou, riding in my land, singing and winding +the horn, who bringest hither such insolent talk?" + +"I," said she, "am the Lady Magtelt, daughter of Roel le Preux, +Lord of Heurne." + +"And," said he, "art thou not chilled, riding thus in the snow?" + +"None," she said, "feels the cold in the race of the Lords of Heurne." + +"And," said he, "hast thou no fear, here at my side and on my own land, +where no one dares to set foot?" + +"None," she said, "knows of fear in the race of the Lords of Heurne." + +"Thou art," said he, "a brave maid." + +"I," she said, "am daughter of Roel le Preux, Lord of Heurne." + +He answered nothing to that, and they went on a while without speaking. + +Suddenly he said, lifting his head arrogantly: "Am I not truly the +Invincible, the Beautiful, the Strong? Shall I not be so always? Yes, +for all things come to my aid in the hour of victory. In former times +I must needs sing, in cold, snow, wind, and darkness, to call virgins +to me, but now the most proud, noble, and beautiful of maids comes +hither in broad day without song to call her: sure sign of growing +power. Who is my equal? None, save God. He has the heavens and I the +earth, and over all living things triumph and mastery. Let come what +may, armies, lightning, thunder, tempest; who can stand but I?" + +"I!" answered to his hideous blasphemy seven voices speaking together. + +Those voices were the echo of the Seven Giants, which sent back every +sound seven times over with great force and volume. + +But the Miserable: "Hark!" said he, "my Lord Echo dares to mock +the Invincible." + +And he burst out laughing. + +But the echo burst out laughing likewise, and laughed loud, long, +and terribly. + +And Halewyn appeared well pleased at the noise, and went on laughing, +with the seven echoes after him. + +And it seemed to Magtelt as it were a thousand men hidden in the +forest. + +And meanwhile the hound had taken fright and howled so desperately +that it seemed to Magtelt as it were a thousand hounds in the forest +crying out to death. + +The Miserable's horse had taken fright also, and was so terrified +at his master's laughter, the dog's howls, and his own neighing, +all ringing out together, that he plunged, reared, stood up on +his hind legs like a man, laid back his ears with fear, and would, +without doubt, have thrown Halewyn from his back, if, driving him +onward with his spurs, he had not made him pass by force the place +of the seven echoes. + +But Schimmel had not moved at all, and this strangely enough, for he +was a young horse, apt to be alarmed. + +When the noise was over they rode on their way, speaking few words +together as they rode. + +And together they came to the Gallows-field. + + + + +XXX. How Magtelt came to the Gallows-field. + +There Magtelt saw the sixteen virgins hanging, and amongst them +Anne-Mie, and all were covered over with snow. + +Halewyn's horse began again to rear, plunge, and lay back his ears +as a sign of fear; but Schimmel neighed, and pawed the ground proudly +with his hoof. + +And Halewyn said to Magtelt: "Thou hast there an unfaithful friend, +who can neigh happily at the hour of thy death." + +But Magtelt answered nothing, and looking steadfastly at those poor +virgins prayed to the very strong God to help her in their revenge. + +Meanwhile the Miserable alighted from his horse, and taking the golden +sickle in his hand came towards Magtelt. + +"It is," he said, "the hour of thy death. Get down, therefore, as I +have done." + +And in his impatience he would have lifted her from Schimmel's back. + +But Magtelt: + +"Leave me," she said, "to get down by myself; if I must die 'twill +be without weeping." + +"Thou art a fine girl," said he. + +And she, having dismounted from her horse, said: "My lord, before +thou strikest, doff thine opperst-kleed of the colour of corn, for +the blood of virgins gushes fiercely, and if mine should stain thee +I should be grieved." + +But before the opperst-kleed was off his shoulders, his head fell to +the ground at his feet. + +And Magtelt, looking at the body, said: "He strode confidently, +thinking himself invincible; but when the beast goes with assurance +the hunter follows more easily." + +And she crossed herself. + + + + +XXXI. Of the sixteen deaths and of the Prince of the Stones. + +Suddenly the head spoke, saying: "Go thou to the end of the road, +and sound my horn aloud, so that my friends may hear." + +But Magtelt: + +"To the end of the road will I not go; thine horn will I not sound; +murderer's counsel will I not follow." + +"Ah," said the head, "if thou art not the Virgin without pity, join +me to my body, and with the heart that is in my breast anoint my +red wound." + +But Magtelt: + +"I am the Virgin without pity; to thy body will I not join thee, and +with the heart that is in thy breast will I not anoint thy red wound." + +"Maid," said the head, weeping and speaking with great terror, +"maid, quickly, quickly, make on my body the sign of the cross, +and carry me into my castle, for he is coming." + +While the head was speaking, suddenly came out of the wood the Prince +of the Stones, and he came and seated himself on the body of the +Miserable, and taking in his hands the head: "Salutation," he said, +"to the Ill-favoured one; art thou now content? What of thy triumphant +bearing, my lord the Invincible? She whom thou calledst not came +without a song: the virgin without fear, in whose hands is death. But +thou must sing once again thy sweet song, the song to call virgins." + +"Ah," said the head, "make me not sing, Lord Prince of the Stones, +for I know well enough that at the end there is great suffering." + +"Sing," said the Prince of the Stones, "sing, coward that hast never +wept to do evil, and now weepest at the time of punishment: sing, +Miserable." + +"Ah," said the head, "have pity, Lord." + +"Sing," said the Prince of the Stones, "sing, 'tis the hour of God." + +"My lord Prince," said the head, "be not so hard in my evil hour." + +"Sing, Miserable," said the Prince of the Stones, "sing, 'tis the +hour of the reckoning." + +"Ah," said the head, weeping, "I will sing, since you are my master." + +And the head sang the faery song. + +And suddenly there spread abroad in the air a smell of cinnamon, +frankincense, and sweet marjoram. + +And the sixteen virgins, hearing the song, came down from the gallows +and drew near to the body of Halewyn. + +And Magtelt, crossing herself, watched them pass, but felt no fear. + +And the first virgin, who was the daughter of the poor simpleton, Claes +the Dog-beater, took the golden sickle, and cutting into the breast +of the Miserable below the left nipple drew out a great ruby, and put +this on her wound, where it melted into rich red blood in her breast. + +And the head let a great pitiful cry of pain. + +"So," said the Prince of the Stones, "did the poor virgins cry out +when thou madest them pass from life unto death; sixteen times hast +thou brought death about, sixteen times shalt thou die, besides the +death thou hast suffered already. The cry is the cry of the body +when the soul leaves it; sixteen times hast thou drawn this cry from +other bodies, sixteen times shall cry out thine own; sing, Miserable, +to call the virgins to the reckoning." + +And the head sang again the faery song, while the first virgin walked +away silently towards the wood like a living person. + +And the second virgin came to the body of the Miserable and did to +it as the first had done. + +And she also walked away into the wood like a living person. + +So did each of the sixteen virgins, and for each of them a ruby was +changed into good red blood. + +And sixteen times the head sang the faery song, and sixteen times +gave the death-cry. + +And one by one all the virgins went away into the depth of the wood. + +And the last of all, who was Anne-Mie, came to Magtelt, and kissing +her right hand wherein she had held the sword: "Blessed be thou," +she said, "who camest without fear, and, delivering us from the spell, +leadest us into paradise." + +"Ah," said Magtelt, "must thou go so far away, Anne-Mie?" + +But Anne-Mie, without hearing her, passed like the others into the +depth of the wood, walking silently over the snow like a living person. + +While the head was weeping and uttering bitter plaints, came out +from the forest the child of nine years old, whom the Miserable had +killed first of all. Still wearing her shroud she approached and fell +at the feet of the mannikin Prince of the Stones. + +"Ah," she said, kissing the head tenderly, stroking it, caressing it, +and wiping away its tears, "poor Miserable, I will pray for thee to +the very good God, who readily hears the prayers of children." + +And the girl prayed in this wise: + +"Dear Lord, see how much he is suffering! Is it not payment enough that +he should die sixteen times? Ah, Lord, sweet Lord, and you, Madam Mary, +who are so kind, deign to hear me and grant him forgiveness." + +But the mannikin, starting up, pushed the child away and said +harshly: "This head is mine, thy prayers avail nothing; be off, +little ragamuffin, go back whence thou came." + +And the child went away like the other maids into the depth of +the wood. + +Then he thrust his hand into the breast of the Miserable and pulled +out a heart of stone: then, in his rasping voice, which hissed like +a viper and scraped like a thousand pebbles under the iron sole of +an armed man, he said: "Ambitious heart, heart of stone, thou wast in +thy lifetime cruel and a coward; thou couldst not be content with such +ample gifts as God in His bounty had given thee, thou hadst no desire +towards goodness, courage, or just dealing, but towards gold, power, +and vain honours; thou hadst no love for anything, neither father, +mother, brother, nor sister; and so, to get more power and higher +jurisdiction, thou killedst the people of the land of Flanders, +without shame: and so also thou didst set thyself to hurt the weak, +sucking thy life from their life, and thy blood from their blood. So +have done and so shall always do this reptile order of ambitious ugly +men. Blessed be God, who, by the hands of this frail and winsome maid, +has cut off thine head from thy neck and taken thee from the world." + +As he spoke he had thrown the heart down into the snow, and trampling +over it with great despite, kicking it with his toe like a vile thing, +and laughing bitterly, he spoke again in his rasping voice: + +"Stone thou art, stone shalt thou be a thousand years, but a live +stone, a suffering stone. And when men come and carve thee, cleave +thee, grind thee to powder, thou shalt endure it all without being +able to cry out. Ambitious heart, heart of stone, suffer and bleed, +my cousin. + +"Thou hast starved poor folk, so shalt thou starve a thousand years; +thou hast brought cold into their homes, thou shalt freeze in like +manner. Ambitious heart, heart of stone, suffer and bleed, my cousin. + +"Thou shalt be a hearth-stone and burn with the heat; paving-stone, +and let men walk over thee; stone of a church, and bear upon thee all +the weight of the building; and thou shalt suffer every evil, pain, +and anguish. Ambitious heart, heart of stone, suffer and endure, +my cousin." + +Having said this the Prince of the Stones, driving before him with his +foot the Miserable's heart, disappeared among the trees of the forest. + +Then Magtelt looked at the head, and saw that its eyes were open +wide. She took it up and washed it with snow, then, carrying it with +her, rode away on Schimmel, leaving near the body Halewyn's horse and +hound, the one moaning softly, the other watching it with sorrowful +wonderment. + +As she took up the head, the hound growled, but did not dare touch her. + +And while she rode away, horse and hound stayed by the body, downcast +and sad, and covered with the snow which fell without ceasing. + +And they seemed to be guarding their master. + + + + +XXXII. How father, mother, and sister sought everywhere their son +and brother, and could not find him. + +Singing and winding her horn rides the noble maid Magtelt. + +And in her heart is joy, at the thought that Anne-Mie, the fifteen +virgins, and Toon the Silent are avenged. + +And her hand holds fast beneath her keirle the good sword and the +head of Halewyn. + +And Schimmel trots quickly, eager to be back in his stable. + +While she was riding she saw, through the thick snow falling, an old +man coming towards her on a black horse. + +And the old man said: + +"Beautiful maid, riding so fast, hast seen my son Halewyn?" + +And Magtelt: + +"I left thy son Halewyn well placed, taking his diversion in the snow +with sixteen maidens." + +And the old man rode on. + +When she had gone farther she saw, through the thick snow falling, +a young and rosy-cheeked damosel coming towards her on a white palfrey. + +And the damosel said: + +"Beautiful maid, riding so fast, hast seen my brother Halewyn?" + +But Magtelt: + +"Go farther, to the Gallows-field, where thou shalt see thy brother +in like guise to the sixteen maidens." + +And the damosel rode on. + +Farther still on her way, Magtelt saw, through the thick snow falling, +a young man of haughty and stiff-necked countenance coming towards +her on a roan charger. + +And the young man said: + +"Beautiful maid, riding so fast, hast seen my brother Halewyn?" + +But Magtelt: + +"Thy brother is a fair lord, so fair that round him sixteen maidens +stand sentinel, unwilling to let him go." + +And the young man rode on. + +After travelling on her way still farther, she saw, through the thick +snow falling, an old woman, high-coloured and of robust seeming, +despite her great age, coming towards her. + +And the old woman said: + +"Beautiful maid, riding so fast, hast seen my son Halewyn?" + +But Magtelt: + +"Thy son Siewert Halewyn is dead; see, here is his head beneath my +keirle, and his blood running thick on my dress." + +And the old woman cried out: + +"If thou had spoken these words earlier thou shouldst not have ridden +so far." + +But Magtelt: + +"Thou art fortunate, old woman, in that I have left thee thine own +body and not slain thee as I have thy son." + +And the old dame took fright and made off. + +And night fell. + + + + +XXXIII. Of the feast in the castle of Heurne, and of the head upon +the table. + +Schimmel trotted quickly, and soon Magtelt reached her father's castle +and there sounded the horn. + +Josse van Ryhove, who was gate-keeper that night, was filled with +amazement at the sight of her. Then he cried out: "Thanks be to God, +'tis our damosel come home again." + +And all the household ran to the gate crying out likewise with great +noise and much shouting: "Our damosel is come home." + +Magtelt, going into the great hall, went to Sir Roel and knelt +before him: + +"My lord father," she said, "here is the head of Siewert Halewyn." + +Sir Roel, taking the head in his hands and looking at it well, was +so overcome with joy that he wept for the first time since the eyes +were in his head. + +And the Silent, rising up, came to Magtelt, kissed her right hand +wherewith she had held the sword, and wept likewise, saying: "Thanks +be to thee who hast brought about the reckoning." + +The lady Gonde was like a woman drunk with joy, and could not find +her tongue. At last, bursting into sobs, melting into tears, and +embracing Magtelt eagerly: + +"Ah, ah," she cried out, "kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, little +one! She has slain the Miserable, the sweet maid; the nightingale +has vanquished the falcon! My child is come home again, home again +my child. Noel! Thanks be to God who loves aged mothers and will not +have them robbed of their children. Noel! See, Magtelt the beautiful, +Magtelt the singing-bird, Magtelt the joyous, Magtelt the bright +of heart, Magtelt the glorious, Magtelt the victorious, Magtelt my +daughter, my child, my all, Noel!" + +And Magtelt smiled at her, caressing her and stroking her hands gently. + +And the lady Gonde, weeping freely, let her do, without speaking. + +"Ah," said Sir Roel, "I never saw my wife before in such festival +mood." Then suddenly he cried out: + +"Festival," quoth he, "this should be a day of festival, the great +feast of the house of Heurne!" + +And he threw open the door to call his pages, grooms, men-at-arms, +and all the household. + +But they all held back, not daring to enter. + +"Ho!" cried he, in his great joyous voice, "where are cooks and +kitchen-maids? Where are cauldrons, pots, and frying-pans? Where are +barrels, kegs, flagons and bottles, tankards, mugs, and goblets? Where +is clauwaert simple and double? Where is old wine and new wine? Where +are hams and sausages, whales' tongues, and loins of beef, meat of the +air, meat of the waters, and meat of the fields? Bring in everything +there is and set it on the table, for this must be a feast-day in this +house, feast for an emperor, a king, a prince; for"--and so saying +he held up the Miserable's head by the hair--"our beloved maid has +slain with her own hand the lord Siewert Halewyn." + +Hearing this they all cried out with a roar like thunder: + +"Praise be to God! Noel to our damosel!" + +"Go then," said Sir Roel, "and do as I have bid." + +And when the great feast was served the head was put in the middle +of the table. + +On the morrow there was let cry war in the seigneury of Heurne. And +Sir Roel went with a goodly force of men to attack by arms the castle +of the Miserable, whereof all the relatives, friends, and followers +were either hanged or slain. + +And My Lord the Count gave to the family of Heurne, the goods, +titles and territories of Halewyn, excepting only the ugly shield, +and theirs they remain to this day. + + + + + + + +SMETSE SMEE + + +I. Of Smetse, his belly, and his forge. + +Smetse Smee lived in the good town of Ghent, on the Quai aux Oignons, +beside the fair River Lys. + +He was well skilled in his trade, rich in bodily fat, and with so jolly +a countenance that the most melancholy of men were cheered and took +heart for no more than the sight of him in his smithy, trotting about +on his short legs, head up and belly forward, seeing to everything. + +When work was in full swing in his shop, Smetse, listening to the +busy sounds round the fire, would say, with his hands clasped across +his stomach, quietly and happily: "By Artevelde! what are drums, +cymbals, fifes, viols, and bagpipes worth? For heavenly music give +me my sledges beating, my anvils ringing, my bellows roaring, my good +workmen singing and hammering." + +Then, speaking to them all: "Courage," he would say, "my children! Who +works well from daybreak drinks the better for it at vespers. Whose is +that feeble arm down there, tapping with his hammer so gently? Does +he think he is cracking eggs, the faint-heart? To those bars, Dolf, +and plunge them in the water. To that breastplate, Pier, beat it out +for us fine and true: iron well beaten is proof against bullets. To +that plough-share, Flipke, and good work to it, too: from the plough +comes the world's bread. To the door, Toon, here comes the raw-boned +nag of Don Sancio d'Avila, the knight with the sour countenance, +brought hither by his raw-boned groom, who is for having him shod, +no doubt: let him pay double for his Spanish haughtiness and his +harshness to poor folk!" + +So went Smetse about his smithy, singing mostly, and whistling +when he was not singing. And for the rest getting much honest gain, +profiting in health, and, at vespers, drinking bruinbier with a will +in the inn of Pensaert. + + + + +II. How Slimbroek the Red put out the fire in Smetse's forge. + +By and by there came to the Quai aux Oignons a certain Adriaen +Slimbroek, who set up, with the licence of the guild, another +smithy. This Slimbroek was an ugly, wizened, lean and puny personage, +white-faced, underhung in the jaw like a fox, and nicknamed the Red +on account of the colour of his hair. + +Skilled in intrigue, expert in sharp-practice, master of arts in cant +and hypocrisy, and making himself out to be the finest of smiths, he +had interested in his business all the rich and gentle folk of the +town, who from fear or otherwise held to the Spaniards and wished +ill to those of the reformed faith. They were before, for the most +part, customers of Smetse, but Slimbroek had put them against him, +saying: "This Smetse is a knave to the bottom of his heart, he was a +marauder in his young days, sailing the seas with the men of Zeeland +in despite of Spain, on the side of this religion which they call +reformed. He still has many friends and relatives in Walcheren, more +particularly at Middelburg, Arnemuiden, Camp-Veere, and Flushing, +all obstinate Protestants, and speaking of the Pope of Rome and my +Lords the Archdukes without veneration. + +"And for the rest," added he, "this fellow Smetse is altogether an +atheist, reading the bible of Antwerp in despite of the decrees, +and going to church only because he is afraid, and not at all because +he will." + +By such slanders as these Slimbroek robbed Smetse of all his customers. + +And soon the fire was out in the forge of the good smith, and soon, +too, the savings were eaten up, and Dame Misery came to the dwelling. + + + + +III. Wherein Slimbroek is seen in the river prettily tricked out. + +Brought to this pass Smetse, nevertheless, would not let himself take +to despair; but he was always sad and heavy of heart when, sitting +in his cold smithy and looking at all his good tools lying idle on +the ground, he heard the fair sound of hammers and anvils coming from +Slimbroek's shop. + +But what angered him most was that whenever he passed before +Slimbroek's dwelling the traitor carrot-head would appear suddenly +on the threshold, and, saluting him graciously and giving him fair +compliments, would make a hundred flattering speeches, accompanied +by as many hypocritical salutations, and all for the sake of poking +fun at him and to laugh unkindly at his misery. + +These ugly encounters and grimaces went on a long while, and Smetse +came to the end of his patience: "Ah," said he, "it angers me to +be in such poor case; although I must submit, for such is the holy +will of God. But it irks me too bitterly to see this wicked knave, +who by his trickeries has taken away all my customers, so amusing +himself with my misery." + +Meanwhile Slimbroek spared him not at all, and each day became sharper +in speech, for the more wrong he did to the good smith the more hate +he bore him. + +And Smetse swore to have his revenge on him, in such a way as to +spoil thenceforward his taste for mockery. + +It so happened that one Sunday when he was standing on the Quai des +Bateliers, looking at the river with a crowd of watermen, townsfolk, +boys, and scholars who were idle for the holy day, suddenly there came +out of a pothouse, wherein he had been swallowing many pints of ale, +Slimbroek, bolder than usual on account of the drink. Seeing Smetse +he came and placed himself close to him, and with much gesticulation, +loud bursts of talk and laughter, said to him in an insolent tone: +"Good day, Smetse, good day, my worthy friend. How is thy fine face? It +seems to lose its fat, which was of good quality, Smetse. 'Tis a +great pity. What is the reason for it? Art thou angry at the loss of +thy customers, Smetse? Thou must drink well to bring back the joy to +thy stomach, Smetse. We never see thee now at vespers in the inn of +Pensaert; why, Smetse? Hast no pennies to get drink? I have plenty +for thee, if thou wilt, Smetse." And he shook his money-bag to make +it ring. + +"Thank thee kindly," said Smetse, "thou art too generous, Master +Slimbroek, 'tis my turn to stand thee drink now." + +"Ah," cried Slimbroek, feigning pity and compassion, "why wilt thou +stand drink to me? The world knows thou art not rich, Smetse." + +"Rich enough," answered the smith, "to stand thee the best draught +thou ever had." + +"Hark to him," said Slimbroek to the crowd of watermen and townsfolk, +"hark to him. Smetse will stand us drink! The world is coming to an +end. 'Tis the year of golden rags. Smetse will stand us drink! Ah! I +shall taste with great pleasure the bruinbier that Smetse will stand +us. I am thirsty as an African desert, thirsty as Sunday, thirsty as +a devil half-boiled in the cauldrons of Lucifer." + +"Drink then, Slimbroek," said Smetse, and threw him into the river. + +Seeing this the people who were on the quay applauded heartily, and +all ran to the edge to have a good look at Slimbroek, who, falling +into the water head first, had struck and broken through the belly +of a dog a long while dead, which was floating down on the stream +as such carrion will. And he was tricked out round the neck with +this dog in a most marvellous manner, nor could he get rid of it, +being busy with his arms at keeping himself afloat, and his face was +smeared all over with offensive matter. + +Notwithstanding that he was half-blinded, he dared not come out on +to the quay where Smetse was, but swam off towards the other bank, +decked with his carrion and blowing like a hundred devils. + +"Well," said Smetse, "dost find the bruinbier to thy liking; is it +not the best in all the land of Flanders? But my good sir, take off +thy bonnet to drink; such headgear is not worn for river parties." + +When Slimbroek was in midstream, over against the bridge, Smetse +went up on to this bridge with the other onlookers, and Slimbroek, +in the midst of his puffing and snorting, cried out to Smetse: +"I'll have thee hanged, accursed reformer!" + +"Ah," said the good smith, "you are mistaken, my friend; 'tis not I +who am the reformer, but you, who devise these new bonnets. Where got +you this one? I have never seen such a one, neither so beautiful, +nor so richly ornamented with tufts and hangings. Is the fashion +coming to Ghent by and by?" + +Slimbroek answered nothing, and struggled to get rid of the dead dog, +but in vain, and having paused in his swimming for this purpose, +went down to the bottom, and came up again more furious than ever, +blowing harder, and trying all the while to tear off the body." + +"Leave your hat on, my master," said Smetse, "do not so put yourself +out in order to salute me, I am not worth the trouble. Leave it on." + +At last Slimbroek climbed out of the water. On the quay he shook off +the dog hastily and made away as fast as he could to his dwelling. But +he was followed by a crowd of young watermen and boys, who ran after +him hooting, whistling, covering him with mud and other filth. And +they continued to do the same to his house-front after he had gone in. + + + + +IV. Of the two branches. + +In this wise Smetse had his revenge on Slimbroek, who thereafter +dared not look him in the face, and hid when he passed. + +But the good smith, nevertheless, had no more pleasure in anything +than before, for with every passing day he became more and more needy, +having already, with his wife, used up what help came to them from +the guild, and also a small sum of silver from Middelburg in Walcheren. + +Ashamed to get his living by begging and knavery, and knowing how to +bear with his lot no longer, he resolved to kill himself. + +So one night he left his house, and went out to the moats of the +town, which are bordered by fine trees, forked and spreading down +to the ground. There he fastened a stone to his neck, commended his +soul to God, and, stepping back three paces to get a better start, +ran and jumped. + +But while he was in the very act he was caught suddenly by two +branches, which, falling upon his shoulders, gripped him like man's +hands and held him fast where he was. These branches were neither +cold nor hard, as wood naturally is, but supple and warm. And he +heard at the same instant a strange and scoffing voice saying: +"Where goest thou, Smetse?" + +But he could not answer by reason of his great astonishment. + +And although there was no wind the trunks and branches of the tree +moved and swung about like serpents uncoiling, while all around there +crackled above ten hundred thousand sparks. + +And Smetse grew more afraid, and a hot breath passed across his face, +and the voice, speaking again, but nearer, or so it seemed, repeated: +"Where goest thou, Smetse?" + +But he could not speak for fear, and because his throttle was dry +and his teeth chattering. + +"Why," said the voice, "dost not dare answer him who wishes thee +naught but well? Where goest thou, Smetse?" + +Hearing so pleasant and friendly a speech, the good smith took heart +and answered with great humility: "Lord whom I cannot see, I was +going to kill myself, for life is no longer bearable." + +"Smetse is mad," said the voice. + +"So I am, if you will, Lord," answered the smith; "nevertheless when +my smithy is lost to me by the cunning of a wicked neighbour, and I +have no way to live but by begging and knavery, 'twould be greater +madness in me to live than to die." + +"Smetse," said the voice, "is mad to wish himself dead, for he shall +have again, if he will, his fair smithy, his good red fire, his good +workmen, and as many golden royals in his coffers as he sees sparks +in this tree." + +"I," exclaimed the smith in great delight, "shall never have such +fine things as that! They are not for such miserables as I." + +"Smetse," said the voice, "all things are possible to my master." + +"Ah," said the smith, "you come from the devil, Lord?" + +"Yes," answered the voice, "and I come to thee on his account to +propose a bargain: For seven years thou shalt be rich, thou shalt +have thy smithy the finest in the town of Ghent; thou shalt win gold +enough to pave the Quai aux Oignons; thou shalt have in thy cellars +enough beer and wine to wet all the dry throttles in Flanders; thou +shalt eat the finest meats and the most delicate game; thou shalt have +hams in plenty, sausages in abundance, mince-pies in heaps; every +one shall respect thee, admire thee, sing thy praises; Slimbroek at +the sight of it shall be filled with rage; and for all these great +benefits thou hast only to give us thy soul at the end of seven years." + +"My soul?" said Smetse, "'tis the only thing I have; would you not, +My Lord Devil, make me rich at a less price?" + +"Wilt thou or wilt thou not, smith?" said the voice. + +"Ah," answered Smetse, "you offer me things that are very desirable, +even, My Lord Devil (if I may say it without offence), more than +I wish; for if I might have only my forge and enough customers to +keep the fire alight I should be happier than My Lord Albert or +Madam Isabella." + +"Take or leave it, smith," said the voice. + +"Lord Devil," answered Smetse, "I beg you not to become angry with +me, but to deign to consider that if you give me but my forge, and +not all this gold, wine, and meats, you might perhaps be content to +let my soul burn for a thousand years, which time is not at all to +be compared with the great length of all eternity, but would seem +long enough to whomever must pass it in the fire." + +"Thy forge for thee, thy soul for us; take or leave it, smith," +said the voice. + +"Ah," lamented Smetse, "'tis dear bought, and no offence to you, +Lord Devil." + +"Well then, smith," said the voice, "to riches thou preferest +beggary? Do as thou wilt. Ah, thou wilt have great joy when, walking +with thy melancholy countenance about the streets of Ghent, thou art +fled by every one and dogs snap at thy heels; when thy wife dies of +hunger, and thou chantest mea culpa in vain; then when, alone in the +world, thou beatest on thy shrunken belly the drum for a feast, and +the little girls dancing to such music give thee a slap in the face +for payment; then, at last, when thou dost hide thyself in thy house +so that thy rags shall not be seen in the town, and there, scabby, +chatter-tooth, vermin-fodder, thou diest alone on thy dung-hill like a +leper, and art put into the earth, and Slimbroek comes to make merry +at thy downfall." + +"Ah," said Smetse, "he would do it, the knave." + +"Do not await this vile end," said the voice, "it were better to die +now: leap into the water, Smetse; leap, Smee." + +"Alas," lamented he, "if I give myself to you, I shall burn for +all eternity." + +"Thou wilt not burn," said the voice, "but serve us for food, +good smith." + +"I?" cried Smetse, much frightened at these words, "do you think to +eat me down there? I am not good for eating, I must tell you. There +is no meat more sour, tough, common, and vulgar than mine is. It has +been at one time and another diseased with plague, itch, and other vile +maladies. Ah, I should make you a shabby feast, you and the others, My +Lord Devil, who have in hell so many souls which are noble, succulent, +tasty, and well-fed. But mine is not at all good, I declare." + +"Thou art wrong, smith," said the voice. "Souls of wicked emperors, +kings, princes, popes, famous captains of arms, conquerors, slayers +of men, and other brigands, are always as hard as an eagle's beak; +for so their omnipotence fashions them; we break our teeth off bit +by bit in eating them. Others, having been eaten up beforehand by +ambition and cruelty, which are like ravenous worms, give us hardly +a crumb to pick. Souls of girls who, without want or hunger, sell +for money what nature bids them give for nothing, are so rotten, +putrid, and evil-smelling that the hungriest of devils will not touch +them. Souls of vain men are bladders, and within there is nothing +but wind; 'tis poor food. Souls of hypocrites, canters, liars, are +like beautiful apples without, but beneath the skin are full of bile, +gall, sour wine, and frightful poison; none of us will have any ado +with them. Souls of envious men are as toads, who from spleen at +being so ugly, run yellow spittle on whatever is clean and shining, +from mouth, feet, and all their bodies. Souls of gluttons are naught +but cow-dung. Souls of good drinkers are always tasty, and above all +when they have about them the heavenly smell of good wine and good +bruinbier. But there is no soul so tasty, delectable, succulent, +or of such fine flavour as that of a good woman, a good workman, +or a good smith such as thou. For, working without intermission, +they have no time for sin to touch and stain them, unless it be once +or twice only, and for this reason we catch them whenever we can; +but 'tis a rare dish, kept for the royal table of My Lord Lucifer." + +"Ah," said Smetse, "you have made up your mind to eat me, I see well +enough; nevertheless 'twould not cost you much to give me back my +forge for nothing." + +"'Tis no great discomfort," said the voice, "to be so eaten, for My +Lord and King has a mouth larger than had the fish whereby Jonah the +Jew was swallowed in olden time; thou wilt go down like an oyster +into his stomach, without having been wounded by his teeth in any +wise; there, if it displease thee to stay, thou must dance with +feet and hands as hard as thou canst, and My Lord will at once spit +thee out, for he will not find it possible to stand for long such +a drubbing. Falling at his feet thou wilt show him a joyous face, +a steady look in his eyes, and a good countenance, and the same to +Madam Astarte, who, without a doubt, will take thee for her pet, as +she has done already to several; thereafter thou wilt have a joyous +time, serving My Lady merrily and brushing his hair for My Lord; +as for the rest of us, we shall be right glad to have you with us, +for, among all these familiar vile and ugly faces of conquerors, +plunderers, thieves, and assassins, 'twill do us good to see the +honest countenance of a merry smith, as thou art." + +"My Lord Devil," said Smetse, "I do not merit such honour. I can +well believe, from what you tell me, that 'tis pleasant enough down +there with you. But I should be ill at ease, I must tell you, being +naturally uncouth in the company of strangers; and so I should bring +no joy with me, and should not be able to sing; and therefore you +would get but poor amusement from me, I know in advance. Ah, give +me back rather my good forge and my old customers, and hold me quit; +this would be the act of a royal devil and would sit well upon you." + +Suddenly the voice spoke with anger: "Smith, wilt thou pay us in such +ape's coin? Life is no longer of benefit to thee, death is abhorrent, +and thou wouldst have from us without payment the seven full, rich and +joyous years which I offer thee. Accept or refuse, thy forge for thee, +thy soul for us, under the conditions I have told thee." + +"Alas," said Smetse, "then I will have it so, since it must be, +Lord Devil!" + +"Well then," said the voice, "set thy mark in blood to this deed." + +And a black parchment, with a crow's quill, fell from the tree at the +smith's feet. He read on the parchment, in letters of fire, the pact +of seven years, opened his arm with his knife, and signed with the +crow's quill. And while he was still holding the parchment and the +quill, he felt them suddenly snatched from his hands with violence, +but he saw nothing, and only heard a noise as of a man running in +slipper-shoes, and the voice saying as it went into the distance: +"Thou hast the seven years, Smetse." And the tree ceased its swaying, +and the sparks in the branches went out. + + + + +V. Of the flaming ball, of the forge relit, and of the terrible great +buffet which the man with the lantern gave to Smetse's wife. + +Smetse, greatly amazed, rubbed his eyes, thinking he was +dreaming. Suddenly shaking himself: "This devil," said he, "was he +not making fun of me after all? Have I verily gotten my good forge +back again? I will go and see." + +Having said this he started running in haste, and from far away saw a +great light reddening the sky above the houses, and it seemed to him +that the fire sending up this light was on the Quai aux Oignons; and +he said to himself: "Could that be my forge?" And he ran the faster. + +Coming to the quay he found it lit up as if by a sun, from the +paving-stones up to the tops of the trees which stood alongside, +and he said to himself: "It is my forge." + +Then he was seized and shaken with joy, his legs failed him, and his +breath grew short; but he kept running as hard as he could, and coming +at last to his house he saw his smithy wide open as in the daytime, +and at the back of it a great bright fire. + +Unable to contain himself at this sight he fell to dancing, leaping, +and bursting out into laughter, crying: "I have my forge, my own +forge! Ghent is mine!" Then he went in. Inspecting, examining, touching +everything, he saw at the sides, laid out in good order, iron of all +kinds: armour-iron, iron bars, plough-iron. "By Artevelde!" he said, +"the devil was not lying!" And he took up a bar, and having made it +red with the fire, which was done quickly, started beating it, making +the hammer ring on the anvil like thunder, and crying: "Ha, so I have +my good tools back again, and hear once more this good music which +has so long been silent!" And while he was wiping away a tear of joy, +which gave an unaccustomed wetness to his eye, he saw on a chest near +by a good pewter pot standing, and beside it a fine mug, and he filled +up the mug several times and drank it down with relish: "Ah," he said, +"the good bruinbier, the drink which makes men! I had lost the taste +for it! How good it is!" Then he went back to hammering the iron bar. + +While he was making all this noise, he heard himself called by name, +and looking to see whence the voice came he perceived his wife in the +half-open door which led from the kitchen, thrusting through her head +and looking at him with a startled face. + +"Smetse," she said, "is it thou, my man?" + +"Yes, wife," said he. + +"Smetse," she said, "come close to me, I dare not set foot in this +forge." + +"And why not, wife?" said he. + +"Alas," she said, clinging to him and gazing into the forge, "wert +thou alone there, my man?" + +"Yes," said he. + +"Ah," she said, "Smetse, while you were away there were strange +happenings!" + +"What happenings, wife?" + +"As I was lying in bed," she said, "suddenly the house trembled, and +a flaming ball passed across our room, went out through the door, +without hurting anything, down the stairs, and into the forge, +where, bursting, as I suppose, it made a noise like a hundred +thunder-claps. Suddenly all the windows and doors were thrown open +with a great clatter Getting out of bed, I saw the quay all lit up, +as it is now. Then, thinking that our house was on fire, I came down +in haste, went into the forge, saw the fire lit, and heard the bellows +working noisily. In each corner the iron of different kinds arranged +itself in place according to the work for which it was used; but I +could see no hands moving it, though there must have been some for +sure. I began to cry out in a fright, when suddenly I felt, as it were, +a glove of hot leather pressed against my mouth and holding it shut, +while a voice said: 'Do not cry out, make no sound, if thou wilt not +have thy husband burnt alive for the crime of sorcery.' Nevertheless +he who thus ordered me to keep silent made himself more noise than I +should ever have dared, but by a miracle none of our neighbours heard +it. As for me, my man, I had no more heart to make a sound, and I +fled back hither into the kitchen, where I was praying to God when +I heard thy voice, and dared to open the door a crack. Oh, my man, +since thou art here, explain, if thou can, all this tumult." + +"Wife," answered Smetse, "we must leave that to those more learned +than ourselves. Think only to obey the order of the voice: keep thy +mouth shut, speak to no one of what thou hast seen to-night, and go +back to thy bed, for it is still pitch-dark." + +"I go," she said, "but wilt thou not come also, my man?" + +"I cannot leave the forge," said he. + +While he was speaking thus there came towards them, one after another, +a baker carrying new-baked bread, a grocer carrying cheeses, and a +butcher carrying hams. + +Smetse knew well enough that they were devils, from their white faces, +hollow eyes, scorched hair, twisted fingers, and also from the fact +that they walked with so little sound. + +His wife, amazed to see them coming into her house with all this food, +would have stopped them, but they slipped between her hands like eels, +and went into the kitchen, walking straight and silently. + +There, without a word spoken, the baker arranged his loaves in the +pan, while the butcher and grocer put their cheeses and hams in the +cool-of the cellar. And they finished their work, taking no notice +of the smith's wife, who kept crying: "'Tis not here you must bring +these things; you have made a mistake, I tell you, my good men. Go +elsewhither." + +But they, notwithstanding her voice, arranged the loaves, meat, +and cheeses quietly. + +This made the good woman more than ever put out, and she grew angry: +"I tell you," she exclaimed, "you have made a mistake; do you not +hear me? You have made a mistake, 'tis not here you should be; I say +here, with us, in this place, in the house of Smetse the beggar, +who has not a farthing to his name, who will never pay you. Alas, +they will not listen to me!" + +And crying out at the top of her voice: "Masters, you are at Smetse's, +do you not understand? Smetse the beggar! Do I not say it loud +enough? Jesus, Lord, God! Smetse the needy! Smetse the ragged! Smetse +the starved! Smetse who is rich in nothing but lice! Who will pay you +nothing: do you hear me? Who will pay you nothing, nothing, nothing!" + +"Wife," said the smith, "you are losing your head, my dear. 'Tis I +who sent for these good men." + +"Thou!" said his wife, "thou! but thou art mad, my man; yes, he is mad, +my masters, altogether mad. Ah, 'tis thou who sent for them! 'Tis +thou who sendest for loaves, hams, and cheeses in this profusion, +like a rich man, when thou knowest well enough we cannot pay for them, +and so showest thy bad faith!" + +"Wife," answered Smetse quietly, "we are rich, and will pay for +everything." + +"We rich?" she said, "ah, poor beggar-man. Do I not know what is +in our chest? Hast ever put thy nose in to see, any more than in +the bread-pan? Art thou become the housewife? Alas, my man is mad, +God help us!" + +Meanwhile the three men came back into the smithy. + +Seeing them again, the wife ran to them: "Master trades-men," said she, +"you heard me well enough, for you are not deaf, I believe; we have +nothing, we can pay you nothing; take back your provisions." + +But without looking at her, nor seeming to hear her, the three went +off, walking stiff and silently. + +No sooner had they gone out than a brewer's cart drew up at the door, +and the brewer's men came into the smithy carrying between them a +great barrel full of bruinbier. + +"Smetse," said his wife, "this is too much! Master brewers, this is +not for us; we do not like beer at all, we drink water. Take this +barrel to one of our neighbours, it is no concern of ours, I tell you." + +None the less the brewer's men took down the barrel of bruinbier into +the cellar, came up again, and went out to fetch others, and placed +them alongside the first to the number of twenty. The good wife, +trying to stop them, was pushed aside, while Smetse could not speak +for laughing, and could only draw her to his side, and so prevent her +from hurting herself on the barrels, which the men were carrying from +street to cellar with marvellous speed and dispatch. + +"Oh," she wailed, "let me be! This is too much, Smetse! Alas! Now we +are worse than beggars, we are debtors, Smetse: I shall go and throw +myself into the river, my man. To run up debts to fill a famished +stomach, that is shame enough; but to do so from simple gluttony, +that is unbearable deceit. Canst thou not be content with bread and +water got honestly with thy two hands? Art thou then become such a +delicate feeder that thou must have cakes, fine cheeses, and full +barrels? Smetse, Smetse, that is not like a good man of Ghent, but +rather like a Spanish rogue. Oh, I shall go and drown myself, my man!" + +"Wife," said Smetse, troubled at seeing her in such distress, +"do not weep. 'Tis all ours, my dear, duly, and by right." + +"Ah," she said moaning, "'tis an ill thing to lose in this wise in +your old age that honesty which was your only crown." + +While the smith was endeavouring, but in vain, to console her, there +entered a vintner followed by three-and-thirty porters, each carrying +a basket full of bottles containing precious wines of great rarity, +as was shown by the shape of those said bottles. + +When the good wife saw them she was overcome with despair, and her +courage failed her: "Come in," she said in a piteous voice, "come in, +master vintners; the cellar is below. You have there a goodly number +of bottles, six score for certain. That is none too much for us who +are wealthy, wealthy of misery, vermin, and lice; come in, my masters, +that is the door of the cellar. Put them all there, and more besides +if you will." + +And giving Smetse a push: "Thou art happy, no doubt," said she, "for +'tis a fine sight for a drunkard, such as thou art, to see all this +good wine coming into the house without payment. Ah, he laughs!" + +"Yes, wife," said Smetse, "I laugh with content, for the wines are +ours, ours the meats, ours the loaves and cheeses. Let us make merry +over it together." And he tried to embrace her: but she, shaking +herself free: "Oh, oh," she said, "he runs up debts, he tells lies, +he laughs at his shame: he has all the vices, none is wanting." + +"Wife," said Smetse, "all this is ours, I tell thee again. To this +amount am I paid in advance for certain large orders which have been +graciously given me." + +"Art thou not lying?" said she, growing a little calmer. + +"No," said he. + +"All this is ours?" + +"Yes," he said, "by the word of honour of a citizen of Ghent." + +"Ah, my man, then we are henceforward out of our trouble." + +"Yes, wife," said he. + +"'Tis a miracle from God." + +"Alas," said he. + +"But these men come hither by night, against the usual custom, tell +me the reason of that." + +"He who knows the reason for everything," said Smetse, "is an evil +prier. Such a one am not I." + +"But," said she, "they speak never a word." + +"They do not like to talk," said Smetse, "that is clear. Or it may +be that their master chose them dumb, so that they should not waste +time chattering with housewives." + +"Yes, that may be," she said, while the thirty-first porter was going +past, "but 'tis very strange, I cannot hear their footfalls, my man?" + +"They have for certain," said Smetse, "soles to suit their work." + +"But," she said, "their faces are so pale, sad, and motionless, +that they seem like faces of the dead." + +"Night-birds have never a good complexion," said Smetse. + +"But," said his wife, "I have never seen these men among the guilds +of Ghent." + +"Thou dost not know them all," said Smetse. + +"That may be, my man." + +In this manner the smith and his wife held converse together, the one +very curious and disturbed, the other confused and ashamed at his lies. + +Suddenly, as the three-and-thirtieth porter of the master-vintner was +going out of the door, there rushed in in great haste a man of middling +height, dressed in a short black smock, pale-haired, large-headed, +wan-faced, stepping delicately, quick as the wind, stiff as a poker; +for the rest, smiling continually, and carrying a lantern. + +The man came up to Smetse hurriedly, without speaking bade him follow, +and seized him by the arm. When Smetse hung back he made him a quick +sign to have no fear, and led him into the garden, whither they were +followed by the good wife. There he took a spade, gave his lantern +to Smetse to hold, dug in the earth rapidly and opened a great hole, +pulled out of the hole a leathern bag, opened it quickly, and with a +smile showed Smetse and his wife that it was full of gold coin. The +good wife cried out at the sight of the gold, whereupon he gave her +a terrible great buffet in the face, smiled again, saluted, turned +on his heel and went off with his lantern. + +The good wife, knocked down by the force of the blow, and quite dazed, +dared not cry out again, and only moaned softly: "Smetse, Smetse," +said she, "where art thou, my man? my cheek hurts me sorely." + +Smetse went to her and picked her up, saying: "Wife, let this buffet +be a lesson to thee henceforward to control thy tongue better; thou +hast disturbed with thy crying all the good men who have come here +this night for my good; this last was less patient than the rest and +punished thee, not without good reason." + +"Ah," she said, "I did ill not to obey thee; what must I do now, +my man?" + +"Help me," said Smetse, "to carry the bag into the house." + +"That I will," she said. + +Having taken in the bag, not without some trouble, they emptied it +into a coffer. + +"Ah," she said, seeing the gold run out of the bag and spread itself +this way and that, "'tis a fine sight. But who was this man who showed +thee this sack with such kindness, and who gave me this terrible +great blow?" + +"A friend of mine," said Smetse, "a great discoverer of hidden +treasure." + +"What is his name?" said she. + +"That," said Smetse, "I am not allowed to tell thee." + +"But, my man..." + +"Ah, wife, wife," said Smetse, "thou wilt know too much. Thy +questioning will be thy death, my dear." + +"Alas," said she. + + + + +VI. Wherein the wife of Smetse shows the great length of her tongue. + +When the day was up, Smetse and his wife sat down together to the +good loaves, the fat ham, the fine cheese, the double bruinbier, +and the good wines, and so eased their stomachs, hurt a little by +being such a long while hungry. + +Suddenly there came in all the old workmen, and they said: + +"Baes Smetse, thou didst send for us; here we are, right glad to see +thy fire lit up again, and to work for thee who wast always so good +a master." + +"By Artevelde!" said Smetse, "here they all are: Pier, Dolf, Flipke, +Toon, Hendrik, and the rest. Good day, my lads!" and he gripped them +by the hand, "we must drink." + +While they were drinking, his wife said suddenly with a toss of the +head: "But no one sent for you all! Is that not so, Smetse?" + +"Wife, wife," said the smith, "wilt thou never learn to hold thy +tongue?" + +"But," said she, "I am speaking the truth, my man." + +"Thou art speaking foolishly," said he, "of things whereof thou knowest +nothing. Stay in thy kitchen and do not come meddling in my forge." + +"Baesine," said Flipke, "without wishing to belie you, I must tell +you that a message was sent to us in the name of the baes. For a man +came in the middle of the night knocking on the doors of our houses, +shouting out that we should all of us come hither without fail this +morning for work of great urgency, and that for this we should each +be given a royal as forfeit to our several masters. And we came, +all of us, not wishing to leave our baes in the lurch." + +"'Tis good of you," said Smetse, "ye shall have the promised royal. But +come with me, I will apportion to each of you the usual task." This he +did, and once again the good music of sledges beating, anvils ringing, +bellows blowing, and workmen singing was heard in the forge of the +good smith. + +Meanwhile Smetse went to his wife and said to her with great +heat: "Dost think it a fine thing to gainsay me before these good +men! Chattering magpie, wilt never learn to hold thy tongue? Hast +not already to-night been admonished sharply enough? Must thou have +more telling?" + +"But, Smetse," said his wife, "I did not know that you had sent +for them." + +"That is no reason," he said, "why thou shouldst give me the lie before +all my workmen; canst thou not leave thy speaking until I have done, +or else hold thy tongue altogether, which would be better still." + +"Smetse," said his wife, "I never saw you so angry before. Do not +beat me, my man, I will be henceforward as dumb as this cheese." + +"So you should," said Smetse. + +"But, my man," said she, "canst not explain to me somewhat of all +these happenings?" + +"Sometime," he said, and went back into his smithy. + + + + +VII. Of Smetse the Rich. + +That day there came to Smetse many persons, both notable and common, +nobles, priests, burgesses, and peasants, to give him orders for much +work, and so it went on again on other days, and all through the year. + +Soon the smithy became too small, and Smetse had to enlarge it by +reason of the ever-growing numbers of his workmen. And the work which +they did was so beautiful and so marvellously well done that the fame +of it spread abroad to foreign and distant countries, and people came +to see and admire it from Holland, Zeeland, Spain, Germany, England, +and even from the land of the Turk. + +But Smetse, thinking of the seven years, was not happy at all. + +Soon his coffers were full of fine crusats, angelots, rose nobles, +and golden jewels. But he found no pleasure in looking at all this +wealth, for he thought them poor payment for giving his soul to the +devil for all the length of eternity. + +Red Slimbroek lost all his customers, who came back one by one to +Smetse. Ragged and miserable he used to come every day and lounge on +the quay, watching from there the bright fire glowing in the forge +of the good smith, and, so standing, he seemed dazed and stupid, +like an owl watching a doit. Smetse, knowing that he was needy, +sent him several customers to bring him some means of sustenance, +and also more than once a gift of money. But although he thus repaid +evil with good he was no longer happy, thinking of the seven years. + +Smetse's wife, finding him so wealthy, bought for dinner each +Sunday legs of fat mutton, geese, capons, turkeys, and other good +meats; invited to her table his relatives, friends, and workmen; +and then there would be a great feast, well washed down with double +bruinbier. But Smetse, though he ate and drank like an emperor, was not +at all happy, thinking of the seven years. And the steam from the roast +meats spread abroad on the Quai aux Oignons, so fragrant and succulent, +and so sweetening the air, that all the dogs wandering in the streets +of the town would stop before the house and sniff at the smell, and +there on their haunches, nose in air, would wait for crumbs: and the +beggars, of whom there were great numbers, came thither likewise and +tried to drive away the dogs. Thereupon ensued furious battles, in +which many were badly bitten. Seeing this, Smetse's wife and other +women would come every Sunday to the door with baskets of alms, +and there, before the meal began, would give the beggars good bread, +slices of meat, and two farthings to get themselves drink, and all +this with soft words and fair speaking; then they charged them to +go away from the quay, which they did in an orderly manner. But the +dogs stayed behind, and at the end of the feast there was given to +them likewise food of some sort. And then they would go off also, +taking each his bone or other booty. + +Smetse and his wife together took both dogs and men into their +affection; to the beggars he gave food and shelter; and so also to +all the dogs of Ghent that were lame, infirm, or sickly, until at +length his house came to be called the Dogs' Hospital and the Home +of the Poor. + +Nevertheless he was not at all happy, thinking of the seven years. + +Worn and troubled with these thoughts, Smetse stopped singing and +lost his fat, shrivelled visibly, became melancholy and moody, and +in his smithy said never a word, except to give a necessary order. + +And he was no longer called Smetse the Merry, but Smetse the Rich. + +And he counted the days. + + + + +VIII. How there came a ragged, wayfarer to Smetse's door, and with him, +on an ass, a sweet wife and a little child. + +On the two hundred and forty-fifth day of the seventh year, when +the plum-trees were in bloom, Smetse, dumb as a stone, was taking +a little noonday rest. He sat on a wooden bench opposite his door, +and with melancholy mien looked at the trees planted all along the +quay, and the small birds playing among the branches or squabbling +and pecking one another over some morsel of food, and blinked in the +bright sun which made these birds so merry, and heard at his back +the goodly sounds of his forge, his wife preparing dinner, and his +workmen hurrying at their work so that they might be off to their meal, +for it was nearing the time; and he said to himself that in hell he +would see neither the sun, nor the birds, nor the trees with their +load of green leaves, nor hear any more the sounds of his forge, +nor the smiths hurrying, nor his good wife preparing dinner. + +By and by the workmen came out, and Smetse was left sitting alone +on his bench, pondering in his mind whether there were not some way +whereby he might outwit the devil. + +Suddenly there drew up at his door a man of piteous appearance, with +brown hair and beard, dressed like a ragged townsman, and carrying +a great staff in his hand. He was walking beside an ass, and leading +it along by a rein. On the ass rode a sweet and beautiful young woman +with a noble mien, suckling a little child, who was quite naked, and +of such gentle and winsome countenance that the sight of it warmed +Smetse's heart. + +The ass stopped at the door of the smithy and began to bray loudly. + +"Master smith," said the man, "our ass has cast one of his shoes +on his way hither, wilt thou be pleased to give orders that another +should be given him?" + +"I will do it myself," said Smetse, "for I am alone here." + +"I should tell thee," said the man, "that we are beggars, without +money." + +"Have no care for that," said Smetse, "I am rich enough to be able +to shoe in silver without payment all the asses in Flanders." + +Hearing this the woman alighted from the ass and asked Smetse if she +might sit down on the bench. + +"Yes," said he. + +And while he was fastening up the beast, paring his hoof and fitting +the shoe, he said to the man: "Whence come you, with this woman and +this ass?" + +"We come," said the man, "from a distant country, and have still far +to go." + +"And this child whom I see naked," said Smetse, "does he not oftentimes +suffer from the cold?" + +"Nay," said the man, "for he is all warmth and all life." + +"Well, well," said Smetse, "you do not cry down your own children, +master. But what is your meat and drink while you are travelling in +this manner?" + +"Water from streams," said the man, "and such bread as is given us." + +"Ah," said Smetse, "that is not much, I see, for the ass's panniers +are light. You must often go hungry." + +"Yes," said the man. + +"This," said Smetse, "is displeasing to me, and it is most unwholesome +for a nursing mother to suffer hunger, for so the milk turns sour, +and the child grows in sickly wise." And he called out to his wife: +"Mother, bring hither as many loaves and hams as will fill the panniers +of this beast. And do not forget some double bruinbier, 'tis heavenly +comfort for poor travellers. And a good peck of oats for the ass." + +When the panniers were filled and the beast shod, the man said to +Smetse: "Smith, it is in my mind to give thee some recompense for +thy great goodness, for such as thou seest me I have great power." + +"Yes," said Smetse, with a smile, "I can see that well enough." + +"I am," said the man, "Joseph, nominal husband of the very blessed +Virgin Mary, who is sitting on this bench, and this child that she +has in her arms is Jesus, thy Saviour." + +Smetse, dumbfounded at these words, looked at the wayfarers with +great astonishment, and saw about the man's head a nimbus of fire, +a crown of stars about the woman's, and, about the child's, beautiful +rays more brilliant than the sun, springing from his head and girdling +him round with light. + +Thereupon he fell at their feet and said: "My Lord Jesus, Madam +the Virgin, and my Master St. Joseph, grant me pardon for my lack +of understanding." + +To this St. Joseph replied: "Thou art an honest man, Smetse, and +righteous as well. For this reason I give thee leave to make three +requests, the greatest thou canst think of, and my Lord Jesus will +listen to them favourably." + +At these words Smetse was filled with joy, for it seemed to him that +in this way he might perhaps escape the devil; but at the same time +he did not dare to avow that he had traded his soul away. So he +remained in silence for a few moments, thinking of what things he +could ask, then suddenly said, with great respect: "My Lord Jesus, +Madam St. Mary, and you, Master St. Joseph, will you please to enter +my dwelling? There I can tell you what boons I ask." + +"We will," said St. Joseph. + +"Mother," said Smetse to his wife, "come hither and look to the ass +of these noble lords." + +And Smetse went in before them, sweeping the threshold so that there +should be no dust to touch the soles of their feet. + +And he took them into his garden, where there was a fine plum-tree in +full blossom. "My Lord, Madam, and Sir," said Smetse, "will it please +you to order that whosoever shall climb up into this plum-tree shall +not be able to come down again unless I so desire?" + +"It will," said St. Joseph. + +Thence he led the way into the kitchen, where there stood a great and +precious arm-chair, well padded in the seat, and of enormous weight. + +"My Lord, Madam, and Sir," said Smetse, "will it please you that +whosoever shall sit in this chair shall not be able to rise unless +I so desire?" + +"It will," said St. Joseph. + +Then Smetse fetched a sack, and, showing it to them, said: "My Lord, +Madam, and Sir, will it please you that, whatsoever his stature, +man or devil shall be able to get into this sack, but not out again, +unless I so desire?" + +"It will," said St. Joseph. + +"My Lord, Madam, and Sir," said Smetse, "thanks be unto you. Now that I +have made my three requests I have naught else to ask of your goodness, +save only your blessing." + +"We will give it," said St. Joseph. + +And he blessed Smetse, and thereafter the holy family went upon +their way. + + + + +IX. What Smetse did in order to keep his secret. + +The good wife had heard nothing of what was said to her man by the +celestial wayfarers, and she was amazed to see the behaviour and hear +the speech of the good smith. But she was more so than ever when, on +the departure of the all-powerful visitors, Smetse began to give forth +bursts of laughter, to rub his hands, take hold of her, thump her on +the chest, twist her this way and that, and say in a triumphant tone: +"It may be, after all, that I shall not burn, that I shall not roast, +that I shall not be eaten! Art not glad of it?" + +"Alas," she said, "I cannot understand what you are talking about, +my man; have you gone mad?" + +"Wife," said Smetse, "do not show me the whites of thine eyes in +this pitiful manner, 'tis no time for that. Canst not see how light +my heart has grown? 'Tis because I have got rid of a burden on my +shoulders heavier than the belfry itself; I say this belfry, our +own, with the dragon taken from that of Bruges. And I am not to be +eaten. By Artevelde! my legs bestir themselves of their own accord +at the thought of it. I dance! Wilt not do likewise? Fie, moody one, +brewing melancholy when her man is so happy! Kiss me, wife, kiss me, +mother, for my proficiat; and so thou shouldst, for instead of despair +I have found a good and steadfast hope. They think to roast me with +sauces and feast off my flesh to their fill. I will have the laugh +of them. Dance, wife, dance!" + +"Ah, Smetse," said she, "you should take a purge, my man; they say +'tis good for madness." + +"Thou," he said, tapping her on the shoulder with great affection +and tenderness, "talkest boldly." + +"Hark," said she, "to the good doctor preaching reason to me! But +wert thou mad or not, Smetse, doffing thy bonnet as thou did to +those beggars who came hither sowing their lice; giving to me, thy +wife, their ass to hold; filling their hampers with our best bread, +bruinbier, and ham; falling on thy knees before them to have their +blessing, and treating them like archdukes, with a torrent of My Lords, +Sirs, and Madams." + +At these words Smetse saw well enough that the lordly wayfarers had +not wished to discover themselves to any but he. "Wife," he said, +"thou must not question me further, for I can tell thee nothing of +this mystic happening, which it is not given thee to understand." + +"Alas," said she, "then 'tis worse than madness, 'tis mystery. Thou +dost ill to hide thyself from me in this wise, Smetse, for I have +always lived in thy house, faithful to thee only, cherishing thine +honour, husbanding thy wealth, neither lending nor borrowing, holding +my tongue in the company of other wives, considering thy secrets as +mine own and never breathing a word of them to any one." + +"I know it," said Smetse, "thou hast been a good and true wife." + +"Then why," said she, "knowing this, hast thou not more faith in +me? Ah, my man, it hurts me; tell me the secret, I shall know how to +keep it, I promise thee." + +"Wife," said he, "knowing nothing thou wilt be able to hold thy tongue +the more easily." + +"Smetse," said she, "wilt thou verily tell me nothing?" + +"I cannot," said he. + +"Alas," said she. + +By and by the workmen came back, and Smetse gave each of them a good +royal to get themselves drink. + +Whereat they were all so merry, and felt themselves so rich, that for +three days none of them put his nose into the smithy, save one old +man who was too withered, stiff, short of breath, and unsteady on +his legs to go swimming with the others in the Lys, and afterwards +drying in the sun among the tall grasses, dancing in the meadows +to the music of rebecks, bagpipes, and cymbals, and at night in the +tavern emptying pots and draining glasses. + + + + +X. Of the Bloody Councillor. + +At length the day came on which the good smith was due to hand over +his soul to the devil, for the seventh year had run out, and plums +were once again ripe. + +At nightfall, when certain workmen were busy on a grating for the +Franciscan brothers which was to be done that night, and had stayed +behind with Smetse for that purpose, there came into the forge an +evil-looking fellow, with greasy white hair, a rope round his neck, +his jaw dropped, his tongue hanging out, and dressed in an ill-found +habit like a nobleman's servant fallen on evil days. + +This fellow, without being heard by any one there as he walked +across the floor, came quickly up to Smetse and put his hand on his +shoulder. "Smetse," he said, "hast packed thy bundle?" + +Hearing this the smith swung round. "Packed," he said, "and how does +my packing concern thee, master bald-pate?" + +"Smetse," replied the fellow in a harsh voice, "hast forgotten thy +restored fortunes, and the good times thou hast enjoyed, and the +black paper?" + +"No, no," said Smetse, doffing his bonnet with great humility, "I +have not forgotten; pardon me, my lord, I could not call to mind your +gracious countenance. Will you be pleased to come into my kitchen, +and try a slice of fat ham, taste a pot of good bruinbier, and sip +a bottle of wine? We have time enough for that, for the seven years +are not yet struck, but want, if I am not mistaken, still two hours." + +"That is true," said the devil; "then let us go into thy kitchen." + +So they entered in and sat down to the table. + +The good wife was greatly astonished to see them come in. Smetse +said to her: "Bring us wine, bruinbier, ham, sausages, bread, cakes, +and cheeses, and the best of each that we have in the house." + +"But, Smetse," said she, "you waste the good things which God has +given you. 'Tis well to come to the help of poor folk, but not to do +more for one than another. Beggar-men are beggar-men, all are equal!" + +"Beggar-men!" exclaimed the devil, "that I am not and never was. Death +to the beggar-men! To the gallows with the beggar-men!" + +"My lord," said Smetse, "I beg you not to be angry with my good wife, +who knows you not at all. Wife, consider and look at our guest with +great attention, but greater respect, and afterwards thou mayest tell +thy gossips that thou hast seen my Lord Jacob Hessels, the greatest +reaper of heretics that ever was. + +"Ah, wife, he mowed them down grandly, and had so many of them hanged, +burnt, and tortured in divers ways, that he could drown himself a +hundred times in the blood of his dead. Go, wife, go and fetch him +meat and drink." + +While he was munching, Smetse said: "Ah, my lord, I soon recognized +you by your particular way of saying: 'To the gallows!' and also by +this rope which finished off your life in so evil a manner. For Our +Lord said: 'Whoso liveth by the rope shall perish by the rope.' My +Lord Ryhove was harsh and treacherous toward you, for besides taking +your life he took also your beard, which was a fine one. + +"Ah, that was an evil trick to play on so good a councillor as you +were in those days when you slept so quietly and peaceably in the +Bloody Council--I should say the Council of Civil Disorders, speaking +respectfully--and woke up only to say: 'To the gallows!' and then +went to sleep again." + +"Yes," said the devil, "those were good times." + +"So they were," said Smetse, "times of riches and power for you, my +lord. Ah, we owe you a great deal: the tithe tax, dropped by you into +the ear of the Emperor Charles; the arrest of my lords of Egmont and +Hoorn, whereof the warrant was written in your own fair hand, and of +more than two thousand persons who perished at your command by fire, +steel, and rope!" + +"I do not know the number," said the devil, "but it is large. Give me, +Smetse, some more of this sausage, which is excellent." + +"Ah," said the smith, "'tis not good enough for your lordship. But +you are drinking nothing. Empty this tankard, 'tis double bruinbier." + +"Smith," said the devil, "it is good also, but I tasted better at +Pierkyn's tavern one day when five girls of the Reformed Faith were +burnt together in the market-place. That frothed better. While we were +drinking we heard these five maids singing psalms in the fire. Ah, +we drank well that day! But think, Smetse, of the great perversity +of those maids, all young and strong, and so fast set in their crimes +that they sang their psalms without complaint, smiling at the fire and +invoking God in a heretical fashion. Give me more to drink, Smetse." + +"But," said Smetse, "King Philip asked for your canonization at Rome, +for having served Spain and the Pope so well; why then are you not +in paradise, my lord?" + +"Alas," wept the devil, "I had no recognition of my former +services. Those traitors of Reformers are with God, while I burn in +the bottom of the pit. And there, without rest or respite, I have to +sing heretical psalms; cruel punishment, unspeakable torment! These +chants stick in my throat, scrape up and down in my breast, tearing +my inner flesh like a bristling porcupine with iron spines. At every +note a new wound, a bleeding sore: and always, always I have to keep +singing, and so it will go on through all the length of eternity." + +At these words Smetse was very much frightened, thinking how heavily +God had punished Jacob Hessels. + +"Drink, my lord," he said to him; "this bruinbier is balm to sore +throttles." + +Suddenly the clock struck. + +"Come, Smetse," said the devil, "'tis the hour." + +But the good smith, without answering, heaved a great sigh. + +"What ails thee?" said the devil. + +"Ah," said Smetse, "I am grieved at your incontinence. Have I +welcomed you so ill that you will not let me go, before I leave here, +to embrace my wife a last time and bid farewell to my good workmen, +and to take one more look at my good plum-tree whose fruits are so +rich and juicy? Ah, I would gladly refresh myself with one or two +before I go off to that land where there is always thirst." + +"Do not think to escape me," said the devil. + +"That I would not, my lord," said Smetse. "Come with me, I pray you +most humbly." + +"Very well," said the devil, "but not for long." + +In the garden Smetse began to sigh afresh. + +"Ah," he said, "look at my plums, my lord; will you be pleased to +let me go up and eat my fill?" + +"Go up then," said the devil. + +Up in the tree Smetse began to eat in a most greedy manner, and suck +in the juice of the plums with a great noise. "Ah," cried he, "plums +of paradise, Christian plums, how fat you are! Princely plums, you +would solace a hundred devils burning in the lowest parts of hell. By +you, sweet plums, blessed plums, is thirst driven out of my throat; +by you, adorable plums, gentle plums, is purged from my stomach all +evil melancholy; by you, fresh plums, sugary plums, is diffused in +my blood an infinite sweetness. Ah, juicy plums, joyous plums, faery +plums, would that I could go on sucking you for ever!" + +And while he was saying all this, Smetse went on picking them, eating +them and sipping the juice, without ever stopping. + +"Pox!" said the devil, "it makes my mouth water; why dost not throw +me down some of these marvellous plums?" + +"Alas, my lord," said Smetse, "that I cannot do; they would melt +into water on their fall, so delicate are they. But if you will be +pleased to climb up into the tree you will find much pleasure in +store for you." + +"Then I will," said the devil. + +When he was well settled on a stout branch and there regaling himself +with plums, Smetse slipped down, picked up a stick lying on the grass +and fell to belabouring him with great vigour. + +Feeling the stick on his back the devil would have leapt down on the +smith, but could not move, for the skin of his seat held fast to the +branch. And he snorted, ground his teeth, and foamed at the mouth +with great rage, and also by reason of the pain which his tender skin +caused him. + +Meanwhile Smetse gave him a good drubbing, caressed with his stick +every quarter of his body in turn, bruised him to the bone, tore his +habit, and gave him as strong and straight a beating as was ever +given in the land of Flanders. And he kept saying: "You say not a +word about my plums, my lord; they are good, none the less." + +"Ah," cried Hessels, "why am I not free!" + +"Alas, yes! why are you not free!" answered Smetse, "you would give me +to some little butcher among your friends who would cut me up freely +into slices like a ham, under your learned instruction, for you are, +as I know well, a doctor of torment. But are you not being well +tormented in turn by my stick? Alas, yes! why are you not free! You +would hoist me up on some blessed gallows, and every one would see +me hanging in the air, and freely would Master Hessels laugh. And so +he would have his revenge on me for this excellent drubbing which +I am giving him with such freedom. For nothing in this world is so +free as a free stick falling freely on an unfree councillor. Alas, +yes! why are you not free! You would free my head from my body, as you +did with such satisfaction to my masters of Egmont and Hoorn. Alas, +yes! why are you not free! then we should see Smetse in some good +little fire, which would roast him freely, as was done to the poor +maids of the reformed faith; and Smetse, like them, would be heard +singing with a free soul to the God of free believers, and with a +free conscience stronger than the flame, while Master Hessels drank +bruinbier and said that it frothed nicely." + +"Oh," said the devil, "why beat me so cruelly, without pity for my +white hairs?" + +"As for thy white hair," said Smetse, "'tis the hair of an old tiger +who ate up our country. For this reason it gives me sweet pleasure to +beat thee with this oaken stick; and also in order that thou mayst +give me permission to stay another seven years on this earth, where +I find myself so well content, if it so please thee." + +"Seven years!" said the devil, "do not count on that; I would rather +bleed under thy stick." + +"Ah," said Smetse, "I see that your skin is fond of good blows. These +are tasty ones, it is true. But the best of cheer is unwholesome if +taken in excess. So when you have had enough of them, be so good as +to tell me. I will put a stop to this feast, but for that I must have +the seven years." + +"Never," said Hessels; and lifting his snout into the air like a +baying dog, he cried out: "Devils to the rescue!" But this he did so +loudly, and in such screeching wise, that at the sound of his cracked +voice blaring out like a trumpet, all the workmen came to see what +it was about. + +"You do not shout loud enough," said Smetse, "I will help you." And +he beat him the harder, so that the devil cried the louder. + +"See," said Smetse, "how well this stick makes the little nightingale +sing in my plum-tree. He is saying over his lied of love to call +hither his fair mate. She will come by and by, my lord; but come down, +I pray you, and await her below, for they say that the night dew is +deadly at a height from the ground." + +"Baes," said certain workmen, "is it not my lord Jacob Hessels, +the Bloody Councillor, who is perched up there in thy plum-tree?" + +"Yes, lads," answered Smetse, "'tis indeed that worthy man. He +seeks high places now as he did all his life, and so also at the +end of it, when he swung in the air, putting out his tongue at the +passers-by. For that which is of the gallows returns to the gallows, +and the rope will take back its own. 'Tis written." + +"Baes," said they, "can we not help to bring him down?" + +"Yes," said he. And the workmen went off to the smithy. + +Meanwhile the devil said nothing, trying all the time to get his +seat away from the branch. And he struggled, wriggled about, twisted +himself a hundred different ways, and used as levers, to lift himself +up, feet, hands, and head, but all in vain. + +And Smetse, belabouring him well, said to him: "My lord Councillor, +you are fast stuck, it seems, to the saddle; but I will have you out +of it, have you out as fast as I can, for if I do not so, beating +you with all my strength, you will tear up out of the ground the +tree and its roots, and the good folk will see you walking along, +dragging a plum-tree from your seat like a tail, which would be a +piteous and laughable spectacle for such a noble devil as yourself +to make. Give me rather the seven years." + +"Baes," said the workmen, who had returned from the smithy with +hammers and iron bars, "here we are at your orders; what shall we do?" + +"Well," said Smetse, "since I have combed him down with oaken staves +we will now louse him with hammers and bars." + +"Mercy, Smetse, mercy!" cried the devil; hammers and bars, this is +too much; thou hast the seven years, smith." + +"Make haste," said Smetse, "and write me the quittance." + +"Here it is," said he. + +The smith took it, saw that it was in good order, and said: "I desire +that thou come down." + +But the devil was so weak and enfeebled by the blows he had had that +when he tried to leap he fell on his back. And he went off limping, +shaking his fist at Smetse, and saying: "I await thee, in seven years, +in hell, smith." + +"So you may," said Smetse. + + + + +XI. Wherein the workmen hold fair speech with Smetse. + +While the devil was making off, Smetse, watching his workmen, saw +that they were looking at one another strangely, spoke together in +low voices, and seemed awkward in their manner, like people who would +speak out, but dare not. + +And he said to himself: "Are they going to denounce me to the priests?" + +Suddenly Flipke the Bear came up to him. "Baes," said he, "we know +well enough that this ghost of Hessels was sent to thee by him who is +lord below; thou hast made a pact with the devil and art rich only +by his money. We have guessed as much for some time. But so that +thou should not be vexed, none of us have spoken of it in the town, +and none will so speak. We would tell thee this to put thy mind at +rest. And so now, baes, good night and quiet sleep to thee." + +"Thank you, lads," said Smetse, greatly softened. + +And they went their several ways. + + + + +XII. How that Smetse would not give his secret into his wife's +tongue's keeping. + +In the kitchen Smetse found his wife on her knees beating her breast, +weeping, sighing, sobbing, and saying: "Jesus Lord God, he has made a +pact with the devil; but 'tis not with my consent, I swear. And you +also, Madam the Virgin, you know it, and you also, all my masters +the saints. Ah, I am indeed wretched, not on my own account, but for +my poor man, who for the sake of some miserable gold sold his soul +to the devil! Alas, yes, sell it he did! Ah, my saintly masters, +who are yourselves so happy and in such glory, pray the very good +God for him, and deign to consider that if, as I dare hope, I die a +Christian death and go to paradise, I shall be all alone there, eating +my rice pudding with silver spoons, while my poor man is burning in +hell, crying out in thirst and hunger, and I not able to give him +either meat or drink.... Alas, that will make me so unhappy! Ah, +my good masters the saints, Madam the Virgin, My Lord Jesus, he +sinned but this once, and was all the rest of his life a good man, +a good Christian, kind to the poor and soft of heart. Save him from +the fires which burn for ever, and do not separate above those who +were so long united below. Pray for him, pray for me, alas!" + +"Wife," said Smetse, "thou art very wretched, it seems." + +"Ah, wicked man," said she, "now I know all. 'Twas hell fire +which came bursting into the house and lit up the forge; those +master-bakers, brewers, and vintners were devils, all of them, and +devil also that ugly man who showed thee the treasure and gave me +so grievous a buffet. Who will dare to live peaceably in this house +from now on? Alas, our food is the devil's, our drink also; devil's +meat, loaves, and cheeses, devil's money, house, and all. Whoever +should dig under this dwelling would see the fires of hell gush out +incontinent. There are all the devils, I see them above, below, on the +right hand, on the left, awaiting their prey with dropped jaws, like +tigers. Ah, what a fine sight 'twill be to see my poor man torn into +a hundred pieces by all these devils, and that in seven years, for he +said, as I heard well enough, that he would come back in seven years." + +"Weep not, wife," said Smetse, "in seven years I may again be master +as I was to-day." + +"But," said she, "if he had not gone up into the plum-tree, what +wouldst thou have done, poor beggar-man? And what if he will not let +himself fall a second time into thy snare as he did to-day?" + +"Wife," said Smetse, "he will so fall, for my snares are from heaven, +and the things which are from God can always get the better of devils." + +"Art not lying again?" she said. "And wilt tell me what they are?" + +"That I cannot," said he, "for devils have sharp ears and would hear +me telling thee, no matter how low I spoke; and then I should be +taken off to hell without mercy." + +"Ah," said she, "then I will not ask, though 'tis not pleasant for me +to live here in ignorance of everything, like a stranger. Nevertheless +I would rather have thee silent and saved than talking and damned." + +"Wife," he said, "thou art wise when thou speakest so." + +"I will pray," she said, "every day for thy deliverance, and have a +good mass said for thee at St. Bavon." + +"But," said he, "is it with devil's money thou wilt pay for this mass?" + +"Have no care for that," said she, "when this money enters the church +coffers 'twill become suddenly holy." + +"Do as thou wilt, wife," said Smetse. + +"Ah," said she, "My Lord Jesus shall have a stout candle each day, +and Madam the Virgin likewise." + +"Do not forget my master St. Joseph," said Smetse, "for we owe +him much." + + + + +XIII. Of the Bloody Duke. + +The end of the seventh year came again in its turn, and on the last +evening there crossed the threshold of Smetse Smee's dwelling a man +with a sharp and haughty Spanish face, a nose like a hawk's beak, +hard and staring eyes, and a white beard, long and pointed. For the +rest he was dressed in armour finely worked and most richly gilt; +decorated with the illustrious order of the Fleece; wore a fine red +sash; rested his left hand on the hilt of his sword, and held in his +right the seven years' pact and a marshal's wand. + +Coming into the forge he walked straight towards Smetse, holding his +head loftily and without deigning to notice any of the workmen. + +The smith was standing in a corner, wondering how he could make the +devil who was sent for him sit down in the arm-chair, when Flipke +ran quickly up to him and said in his ear: "Baes, the Bloody Duke is +coming, take care!" + +"Woe!" said Smetse, speaking to himself, "'tis all up with me, if +d'Alva has come to fetch me." + +Meanwhile the devil approached the smith, showed him the pact, and +took him by the arm without a word to lead him off. + +"My Lord," said Smetse in a most sorrowful manner, "whither would you +take me? To hell. I follow you. 'Tis too great honour for one so mean +as I to be ordered by so noble a devil as yourself. But is it yet the +appointed time? I think it is not, and your highness has too upright +a soul to take me off before the time written in the deed. In the +meantime I beg your highness to be seated: Flipke, a chair for My Lord; +the best in my poor dwelling, the large, well-padded arm-chair which +stands in my kitchen, beside the press, near the chimney, beneath +the picture of my master St. Joseph. Wipe it well, lad, so that no +dust may be left on it; and quick, for the noble duke is standing." + +Flipke ran into the kitchen and came back, saying: "Baes, I cannot +lift that arm-chair alone, 'tis so heavy." + +Then Smetse feigned great anger and said to his workmen: "Do ye not +hear? He cannot lift it alone. Go and help him, and if it takes ten +of you let ten go. And quick now. Fie! the blockheads, can ye 'not +see that the noble duke is standing?" + +Nine workmen ran to obey him and brought the chair into the forge, +though not without difficulty. Smetse said: "Put it there, behind My +Lord. Is there any dust on it? By Artevelde! they have not touched +this corner. I will do it myself. Now 'tis as clean as new-washed +glass. Will your highness deign to be seated?" + +This the devil did, and then looked round him with great haughtiness +and disdain. But of a sudden the smith fell at his feet, and said +with mocking laughter: "Sir duke, you see before you the most humble +of your servants, a poor man living like a Christian, serving God, +honouring princes, and anxious, if such is your lordly pleasure, +to continue in this way of life seven years more." + +"Thou shalt not have one minute," said the devil, "come, Fleming, +come with me." + +And he tried to rise from the chair, but could not. And while he +was struggling with might and main, making a thousand vain efforts, +the good smith cried joyously: "Would your highness get up? Ah, +'tis too soon! Let your highness wait, he is not yet rested after +his long journey; long, I make bold to say, for it must be a good +hundred leagues from hell to my smithy, and that is a long way for +such noble feet, by dusty roads. Ah, My Lord, let yourself rest a +little in this good chair. Nevertheless, if you are in great haste +to be off, grant me the seven years and I will give you in return +your noble leave and a full flask of Spanish wine." + +"I care nothing for thy wine," answered the devil. + +"Baes," said Flipke, "offer him blood, he will drink then." + +"My lad," said Smetse, "thou knowest well enough we have no such thing +as blood in our cellars hereabouts, for that is no Flemish drink, +but one that we leave to Spain. Therefore his highness must be so good +as to excuse me. Nevertheless, I think he is thirsty, not for blood, +but for blows, and of those I will give him his illustrious fill, +since he will not grant me the seven years." + +"Smith," said the devil, looking at Smetse with great contempt, +"thou wouldst not dare beat me, I think?" + +"Yes, My Lord," said the good man. "You would have me dead. For +my part I hold to my skin, and this not without good reason, for +it has always been faithful to me and well fastened. Would it not +be a criminal act to break off in this sudden fashion so close a +partnership? And besides, you would take me off with you to hell, +where the air is filled with the stench of the divers cookeries for +damned souls which are set up there. Ah, rather than go thither I +would beat your highness for seven years." + +"Fleming," said the devil, "thou speakest without respect." + +"Yes, My Lord," said Smetse, "but I will hit you with veneration." + +And so saying he gave him with his clenched fist a terrible great +blow on the nose, whereat the devil seemed astonished, dazed, and +angry, like a powerful king struck by a low-born servant. And he +tried to leap upon the smith, clenched his fists, ground his teeth, +and shot out blood from his nose, his mouth, his eyes, and his ears, +so angry was he. + +"Ah," said Smetse, "you seem angry, My Lord. But deign to consider +that since you will not listen to my words, I must speak to you by +blows. By this argument am I not doing my best to soften your heart +to my piteous case? Alas, deign to consider that my humble fist is +making its supplication as best it can to your illustrious eyes, +begs seven years from your noble nose, implores them from your ducal +jaw. Do not these respectful taps tell your lordly cheeks how happy, +joyous, and well-liking I should be during those seven years? Ah, +let yourself be convinced. But, I see, I must speak to you in another +fashion, with the words of iron bars, the prayers of tongs, and the +supplications of sledge-hammers. Lads," said the smith to his workmen, +"will you be pleased to hold converse with My Lord?" + +"Yes, baes," said they. + +And together with Smetse they chose their tools. But it was the oldest +who picked the heaviest ones, and were the hottest with rage, because +it was they who in former days had lost, through the duke's doing, +many friends and relatives by steel, by stake, and by live burial, +and they cried: "God is on our side, he has delivered the enemy into +our hands. Out upon the Bloody Duke, the master-butcher, the lord of +the axe!" + +And all of them, young and old, cursed the devil with a thunder of +cries; and they came up to him menacingly, surrounding the chair and +raising their tools to strike. + +But Smetse stopped them and spoke again to the devil. "If your +highness," he said, "is minded to hold to his noble bones, let him +deign to grant me the seven years, for the time for laughter is past, +let me tell you." + +"Baes," said the workmen, "whence comes to thee this kindness beyond +measure? Why hold so long and fair parley with this fellow? Let us +first break him up, and then he will offer thee the seven years of +his own accord." + +"Seven years!" said the devil, "seven years! he shall not have so +much as the shadow of a minute. Strike, men of Ghent, the lion is in +the net; ye who could not find a hole deep enough to hide yourselves +in when he was free and showed his fangs. Flemish cowards, see what +I think of you and your threats." And he spat on them. + +At this spittle the bars, hammers, and other tools fell on him thick +as hail, breaking his bones and the plates of his armour, and Smetse +and his workmen said as they beat to their hearts' content: + +"Cowards were we, who wished to worship God in the sincerity of +our hearts; valiant was he who prevented us with steel, stake, and +live burial. + +"Cowards were we for having always laughed readily and drunk joyously, +like men who, having done what they had to do, make light of the rest: +valiant was this dark personage when he had poor men of the people +arrested in the midst of their merrymaking at Kermis-time and put +death where had been laughter. + +"Cowards were the eighteen thousand eight hundred persons who died for +the glory of God; cowards those numberless others who by the rapine, +brutality and insolence of the fighting men, lost their lives in these +lands and others. Valiant was he who ordained their sufferings, and +more valiant still when he celebrated his own evil deeds by a banquet. + +"Cowards were we always, we who, after a battle, treated our prisoners +like brothers; valiant was he who, after the defeat in Friesland, +had his own men slaughtered. + +"Cowards were we, who laboured without ceasing, spreading abroad over +the whole world the work of our hands; valiant was he when, under the +cloak of religion, he slew the richer among us without distinction +between Romans and Reformers, and robbed us by pillage and extortion +of thirty-six million florins. For the world is turned upside down; +cowardly is the busy bee who makes the honey, and valiant the idle +drone who steals it away. Spit, noble duke, on these Flemish cowards." + +But the duke could neither spit nor cough, for from the roughness of +the blows they had given him he had altogether lost the shape of a man, +so mingled and beaten together were bones, flesh, and steel. But there +was no blood to be seen, which was a marvellous thing. Suddenly, while +the workmen, wearied with beating, were taking breath, a weak voice +came out from this hotch-potch of bones, flesh, and steel, saying: + +"Thou hast the seven years, Smetse." + +"Very well then, My Lord," said he, "sign the quittance." + +This the devil did. + +"And now," said Smetse, "will your highness please to get up." + +At these words, by great marvel, the devil regained his shape. But +while he was walking away, holding up his head with great haughtiness +and not deigning to look at his feet, he tripped over a sledge lying +on the ground, and fell on his nose with great indignity, thereby +giving much occasion for laughter to the workmen, who did not fail to +make use of it. Picking himself up he threatened them with his fist, +but they burst out laughing more loudly than ever. He came at them, +grinding his teeth; they hooted him. He tried to strike with his +sword a short and sturdy little workman; but the man seized the sword +from his hands and broke it in three pieces. He struck another in the +face with his fist, but the man gave him so good and valiant a kick +as to send him sprawling on the quay with his legs in the air. There, +flushing with shame, he melted into red smoke, like a vapour of blood, +and the workmen heard a thousand joyous and merry voices, saying: +"Beaten is the Bloody Duke, shamed is the lord of the axe, inglorious +the prince of butchers! Vlaenderland tot eeuwigheid! Flanders for +ever!" And a thousand pairs of hands beat applause all together. And +the dawn broke. + + + + +XIV. Of the great fears and pains of Smetse's wife. + +Smetse, going to look for his wife, found her in the kitchen on +her knees before the picture of St. Joseph. "Well, mother," said he, +"what didst think of our dance? Was it not a merry one? Ah, henceforth +they will call our house the House of Beaten Devils." + +"Yes," said his wife, wagging her head, "yes, and also the house of +Smetse who was carried away to hell. For that is where thou wilt go; +I know it, I feel it, I foretell it. This devil's coming all accoutred +for war presages evil. He will come back, no longer alone, but with +a hundred thousand devils armed like himself. Ah, my poor man! They +will carry lances, swords, pikes, hooked axes, and arquebuses. They +will drag behind them canon which they will fire at us; and everything +will be ground to pieces, thou, I, the smithy, and the workmen. Alas, +everything will be levelled to the ground! And where our smithy now +stands will be nothing but a sorry heap of dust. And the folk walking +past along the quay will say when they see this dust: 'There lies +the house of Smetse, the fool who sold his soul to the devil.' And +I, after dying in this fashion, shall go to Paradise, as I dare to +hope. But thee, my man, oh, woe unspeakable! they will take away with +them and drag through fire, smoke, brimstone, pitch, boiling oil, to +that terrible place where those are punished who, wishing to break +a pact made with the devil, have no special help from God or his +holy saints. Poor little man, my good comrade, dost know what there +is in store for thee? Ho, a gulf as deep as the heavens are high, +and studded all down its terrible sides with jutting points of rock, +iron spikes, horrid spears, and a thousand dreadful pikes. And dost +know what manner of gulf this is, my man? 'Tis a gulf wherein a man +may keep falling always--dost understand me, always, always--gashed +by the rocks, cut about by the spears, torn open by the pikes, always, +always, down all the long length of eternity." + +"But, wife," said Smetse, "hast ever seen this gulf whereof thou +speakest?" + +"Nay," said she, "but I know what manner of place it is, for I have +often heard tell of it in the church of St. Bavon. And the good canon +predicant would not lie." + +"Ah, no," said Smetse. + + + + +XV. Of the Bloody King. + +When the last night of the seventh year was come Smetse was in his +smithy, looking at the enchanted sack, and asking himself with much +anxiety how he could make the devil get into it. + +While he was wondering, the smithy suddenly became filled with an evil +stench of the most putrid, offensive and filthy kind. Innumerable +lice swarmed over the threshold, ceiling, anvils, sledges, bars and +bellows, Smetse and his men, who were all as if blinded, for these +lice were as thick in the smithy as smoke, cloud, or fog. + +And a melancholy but imperative voice spoke, saying: "Smetse, come +with me; the seven years have struck." + +And Smetse and his workmen, looking as well as they could in the +direction whence the voice came, saw a man coming towards them with a +royal crown on his head, and on his back a cloak of cloth-of-gold. But +beneath the cloak the man was naked, and on his breast were four great +abscesses, which formed together a single wide sore, and from this +came the stench which filled the smithy, and the clouds of lice which +swarmed round about. And he had on his right leg another abscess, +more filthy, rank, and offensive than the rest. The man himself was +white-faced, auburn-haired, red-bearded, with lips a little drawn, +and mouth open somewhat. In his grey eyes were melancholy, envy, +dissimulation, hypocrisy, harshness, and evil rancour. + +When the older workmen saw him they cried out in a voice like thunder: +"Smetse, the Bloody King is here, take care!" + +"Silence," cried the smith, "peace there, silence and veneration! Let +every man doff his bonnet to the greatest king that ever lived, +Philip II by name, King of Castile, Leon, and Aragon, Count of +Flanders, Duke of Burgundy and Brabant, Palatine of Holland and +Zeeland, most illustrious of all illustrious princes, great among +the great, victorious among victors. Sire," said he to the devil, +"you do me unparalleled honour to come hither in person to lead me +to hell, but my humble Ghentish lowness makes bold to suggest to +your Royal and Palatine Highness that the appointed hour has not yet +struck. Therefore if it pleases your Majesty I will pass on earth +the brief time which is still left to me to live." + +"I allow it," said the devil. + +Meanwhile Smetse seemed unable to take his eyes off the devil, and +showed himself very sorrowful and heavy, nodding his head, and saying +several times: + +"Alas, alas! cruel torment! evil hour!" + +"What ails thee?" said the devil. + +"Sire," said Smetse, "nothing ails me but the great sorrow which I +have at seeing how harsh God has been towards you, leaving you to +bear in hell the malady whereof you died. Ah, 'tis a most pitiful +sight to see so great a king as you consumed by these lice and eaten +up with these abscesses." + +"I care nothing for thy pity," answered the king. + +"Sire," said Smetse further, "deign to think no evil of my words. I +have never been taught fine ways of speech; but notwithstanding this +I make bold to sympathize with your illustrious sufferings, and this +the more in that I myself have known and suffered your ill, and you can +still see, Sire, the terrible marks on my skin." And Smetse, uncovering +his breast, showed the marks of the wounds which he had received from +the traitor Spanish when he sailed the seas with the men of Zeeland. + +"But," said the devil-king, "thou seemest well enough cured, +smith! Wast thou verily as sick as I?" + +"Like you, Sire," said Smetse, "I was nothing but a heap of living +filth; like you I was fetid, rank, and offensive, and every one fled +from me as they fled from you; like you I was eaten up with lice; +but what could not be done for you by the most illustrious doctor +Olias of Madrid, a humble carpenter did for me." + +At these words the devil-king cocked his ear. "In what place," said he, +"does this carpenter dwell, and what is his name?" + +"He dwells," said Smetse, "in the heavens, and his name is Master +St. Joseph." + +"And did this great saint appear to thee by especial miracle?" + +"Yes, Sire." + +"And by virtue of what didst thou merit this rare and blessed favour?" + +"Sire," answered Smetse, "I have never by my own virtue merited so +much as the shadow of a single grain of particular grace, but in +my sufferings I prayed humbly and with faith to my blessed patron, +Master St. Joseph, and he deigned to come to my succour." + +"Tell me of this happening, smith." + +"Sire," said Smetse, holding up the sack, "this was my remedy." + +"This sack?" asked the devil. + +"Yes, Sire; but will your Majesty deign to look closely at the +hemp whereof it is woven. Do you not think its quality altogether +strange! Alas," said Smetse, running on with his talk, and appearing +to go into an ecstasy, "'tis not given to us poor men to see every day +such hemp as this. For this is not earthly hemp, but hemp of heaven, +hemp from the good Paradise, sown by my master St. Joseph round about +the tree of life, harvested and woven under his especial orders to +make sacks wherein the beans are stored which my masters the angels +eat on fast-days." + +"But," asked the devil, "how did this sack come into thy hands?" + +"Ah, Sire, by great marvel. One night I was in my bed, suffering twenty +deaths from my ulcers, and almost at the point of giving up my soul. I +saw my good wife weeping; I heard my neighbours and workmen, of whom +there were many, saying round about my bed the prayers for the dying; +my body was overcome with pain and my soul with despair. Nevertheless +I kept praying to my blessed patron and swore that if he brought +me out of that pass, I would burn to his honour in the church of +St. Bavon such a candle as the fat of twenty sheep would not suffice +to make. And my prayers were not in vain, Sire, for suddenly a hole +opened in the ceiling above my head, a living flame and a celestial +perfume filled the room, a sack came down through the hole, a man +clothed in white followed the sack, walked in the air to my bed, +pulled down the sheets which covered me, and in the twinkling of an +eye put me in the sack and drew the strings tight round my neck. And +then, behold the miracle! No sooner was I wrapped about with this +good hemp than a genial warmth passed through me, my ulcers dried up, +and the lice all perished suddenly with a terrible noise. After that +the man told me with a smile about the hemp of heaven and the angelic +beans, and finished his discourse by saying: 'Keep safe this remedy, +'tis sent thee by my master St. Joseph. Whosoever shall use it shall +be cured of all ills and saved for all eternity, if in the meantime he +do not sell his soul to the devil!' Then the man went away. And what +the good messenger told me was true, for by means of this sack from +heaven, I cured Toon, my workman, of the king's evil; Pier of fever, +Dolf of scurvy, Hendrik of the phlegm, and a score of others who owe +it to me that they are still alive." + +When Smetse had finished his speech the devil-king seemed lost in deep +reflection, then suddenly lifted his eyes to heaven, joined his hands, +crossed himself again and again, and, falling to his knees, beat upon +his breast, and with most lamentable cries prayed as here follows: "Ah, +my Master St. Joseph, sweet Lord, blessed saint, immaculate husband of +the Virgin without stain, you have deigned to make whole this smith, +and he would have been saved by you for all eternity had he not sold +his soul to the devil. But I, Master, I, a poor king, who pray to you, +do you disdain to make me whole also, and to save me as you would +have saved him? You know well, sweet Lord, how I devoted my life, +my person, my goods and those of my subjects to the defence of our +blessed religion; how I hated, as is right, the freedom to believe +other things than those which are ordained for us; how I combated it +by steel, stake, and live burial; how I saved in this wise from the +venom of reform Brabant, Flanders, Artois, Hainault, Valenciennes, +Lille, Douai, Orchies, Namur, Tournai, Tournaisie, Malines, and +my other lands. Nevertheless I have been thrown into the fires of +hell, and there suffer without respite the unutterable torment of +my consuming ulcers and my devouring vermin. Ah, will you not make +me whole, will you not save me? You are able, my Master. Yes, you +will perform again for the sorrowing king the miracle which saved +the smith. Then shall I be able to pass into paradise, blessing +and glorifying your name through centuries and centuries. Save me, +Master St. Joseph, save me. Amen." + +And the devil-king, crossing himself, beating his breast, and babbling +paternosters turn by turn, rose to his feet and said to Smetse: +"Put me in the sack, smith." + +This Smetse did gladly, rolled him into the sack, leaving only his +head thrust out, drew tight round his neck the stout cords, and placed +the devil on an anvil. + +At this spectacle the workmen burst out laughing, clapping their +hands together, and saying a hundred merry things to one another. + +"Smith," asked the devil, "are these Flemings laughing at me?" + +"Yes, Sire." + +"What are they saying, smith?" + +"Oh, Sire, they are saying that horses are caught by means of corn; +dogs by liver; asses by thistles; hogs by swill; trout by curdled +blood; carp by cheese; pike by gudgeon; and a humbug of your kidney +by tales of false miracles." + +"Ho, the traitor smith," howled the devil, grinding his teeth, +"he has taken in vain the name of my Master St. Joseph, he has lied +without shame." + +"Yes, Sire." + +"And thou wilt dare to beat me as thou didst Jacob Hessels and my +faithful duke?" + +"Even more heartily, Sire. Nevertheless 'tis only if you so wish +it. You shall be set free if you please. Free if you give me back the +deed; beaten if you are fixed in your idea of carrying me off to hell." + +"Give thee back the deed! "roared the devil, "I would rather suffer +a thousand deaths in a single moment." + +"Sire King," said Smetse, "I pray you to think of your bones, which +seem to me none too sound as it is. Consider also that the opportunity +is a good one for us to avenge on your person our poor Flanders, so +drenched in blood at your hands. But it displeases me to pass a second +time where has passed already the wrath of the very just God. So give +me back the deed; grace, Sire King, or 'twill begin raining presently." + +"Grace!" said the devil, "grace to a Fleming! perish Flanders +rather! Ah, why have I not again, one single day, as much power, +armies, and riches as I will; Flanders would give up her soul +quickly. Then famine should reign in the land, parching the soil, +drying up the water-springs and the life of plants; the last ghostly +inhabitants of the empty towns would wander like phantoms in the +streets, killing one another in heaps to find a little rotten food; +bands of famished dogs would snatch newborn children from their +mothers' withered breasts and devour them; famine should lie where +had been plenty, dust where had been towns, crows where had been +men; and on this earth stripped naked, stony, and desolate, on this +burial-ground, I would set up a black cross with this inscription: Here +lies Flanders the heretic, Philip of Spain passed over her breast!" + +So saying the devil foamed at the mouth with wrath, but scarce were +his last words cold from his lips when all the hammers and bars in +the smithy fell on him at once. And Smetse and his workmen, striking +in turn, said: "This is for our broken charters and our privileges +violated despite thine oath, for thou wast perjurer. + +"This is for that when we called thee thou didst not dare come into +our land, where thy presence would have cooled the hottest heads, +for thou wast coward. + +"This is for the innocent Marquess of Berg-op-Zoom, whom thou +poisoned in prison, so that his inheritance might be thine; and for +the Prince of Ascoly, whom thou madest to marry Dona Eufrasia, in +child by thy seed, so that his wealth might enrich the bastard that +was coming. The Prince died also, like so many others, for thou wert +poisoner of bodies. + +"This is for the false witnesses paid by thee, and thy promise to +ennoble whomever would kill Prince William for money, for thou wast +poisoner of souls." + +And the blows fell heavy, and the king's crown was knocked off, and +his body, like the duke's, was no more than a hotch-potch of bones +and flesh, without any blood. But the workmen went on with their +hammering, saying: + +"This is for thine invention of the Tourniquet, wherewith thou didst +strangle Montigny, friend of thy son, for thou wast seeker of new +tortures. + +"This is for the Duke of Alva, for the Counts of Egmont and Hoorn, +for all our poor dead, for our merchants who went off to enrich +England and Germany, for thou wast death and ruin to our land. + +"This is for thy wife, who died by thy deed, for thou wast husband +without love. + +"This is for thy poor son Charles, who died without any sickness, +for thou wast father without bowels. + +"This is for the hatred, cruelty, and slaughter with which thou didst +make return for the gentleness, confidence, and goodwill of our land, +for thou wast king without justice. + +"And this is for the Emperor, thy father, who, with his execrable +proclamations and edicts, first sounded for our land the stroke of +the evil hour. Give him a good drubbing on our account, and tell us +thou wilt give back the deed to the baes." + +"Yes," wept a melancholy voice, coming from the heap of bones and +flesh, "thou hast everything, Smetse, thou art free." + +"Give me back the parchment," said Smetse. + +"Open the sack," answered the voice. + +"Ho," cried Smetse, "yes, yes, indeed, I will open the sack wide, +and Master Philip will leap out and take me off to hell with all +speed. Oh, the good little devil! But 'tis not now the time for such +high pranks. Therefore I make bold to beg your Majesty to give me +first the parchment, which he may without difficulty pass up through +this gap which is between his neck and the edge of the sacking." + +"I will not do it," said the devil. + +"That," said Smetse, "is as it pleases your subtle Majesty. In the +sack he is, in the sack he may remain; I make no objection. Every +man his own humour. But mine will be to leave him in his sack, and in +this wise carry him off to Middelburg in Walcheren, and there ask the +prefect that leave be given me to build a good little stone box in the +market-place and therein to place your Majesty, leaving outside his +melancholy countenance. So placed he will be able to see at a close +view the happiness, joy, and prosperity of the men of the reformed +faith: that will be a fine treat for him, which might be added to, +on feast-days and market-days, by an unkind blow or two which people +would give him in the face, or some wicked strokes with a stick, or +some spittle dropped on him without respect. You will have besides, +Sire, the unutterable satisfaction of seeing many good pilgrims +from Flanders, Brabant, and your other blood-soaked countries come +to Middelburg to pay back with good coin of their staves their old +debt to your Most Merciful Majesty." + +"Ah," said the devil, "I will not have this shame put upon me. Take, +smith, take the parchment." + +Smetse obeyed, and saw that it was indeed his own, then went and +dipped it in holy water, where it turned into dust. + +At this he was filled with joy and opened the sack for the devil, whose +bones moved and became joined again to one another. And he took on +again his withered shape, his hungry vermin, and his devouring sores. + +Then, covering himself with his cloak of cloth-of-gold, he went out +of the smithy, while Smetse cried after him: "Good journey to you, +and a following wind, Master Philip!" + +And on the quay the devil kicked against a stone, which opened of +itself and showed a great hole, wherein he was swallowed suddenly up +like an oyster. + + + + +XVI. Wherein Smetse beholds on the River Lys a most marvellous sight. + +When the devil had gone Smetse was almost off his head with joy, and +ran to his wife, who had come to the door of the kitchen, and thumped +her for joy, seized her, kissed her, hugged the good woman, shook her, +pressed her to him, ran back to his men, shook them all by the hand, +crying: "By Artevelde! I am quits, Smetse is quits!" And he seemed +to have a tongue for nothing else but that he was quits! And he blew +in his wife's ear, into his workmen's faces, and under the nose of a +bald and wheezing old cat who sat up in one corner and got quit with +him by a scratch in the face. + +"The rascal," said Smetse, "does not seem glad enough at my +deliverance. Is he another devil, think you? They say they disguise +themselves in every kind of shape. Ho," said he to the cat, who was +arching her back in annoyance, "hast heard, listened, and understood, +devil cat? I am quit and free, quit and franked, quit and happy, +quit and rich! And I have made fools of all the devils. And from now +on I will live gaily as becomes a quit smith. Wife, I will send this +very day a hundred philipdalers to Slimbroek, so that that poor sinner +may also rejoice at Smetse's quittance." + +But his wife said nothing, and when Smetse went to look for her he +found her on the stair with a great bowl of holy water in her hands, +in which she was dipping a fair sprig of palm branch. + +Coming into the smithy she began to sprinkle with the palm her man and +the workmen, and also the hammers, anvils, bellows, and other tools. + +"Wife," said Smetse, trying to escape the wetting, "what art thou at?" + +"I am saving thee," said she, "presumptuous smith. Dost verily think +that, being freed of devils, thou hast for thine own the chattels that +come from them? Dost think that though they have lost the soul which +was to be their payment they will leave thee thy riches. Ho, the good +fool! They will come back again, yes; and if I do not sprinkle thee +with this holy water, and myself likewise, and all these good men, +who knows with what evils they may not torment us, alas!" + +And the good wife was working away with her palm-branch when suddenly +a great thunder rumbled under the earth, shaking the quay, and the +stones cracked, the panes shivered in the windows, all the doors and +casements in the smithy opened of themselves, and a hot wind blew. + +"Ah," said she, "they are coming; pray, my man!" + +And suddenly there appeared in the sky the figure of a man, naked +and of marvellous beauty. He was standing in a chariot of diamond, +drawn by four flaming horses. And he held in his right hand a banner, +whereon was written: "More beautiful than God." And from the body of +this man, whereof the flesh shone brightly, came golden rays which +lit up the Lys, the quay and the trees like sunlight. And the trees +began to sway and swing their stems and branches, and all the quay +seemed to roll like a ship upon the sea, and thousands of voices +called out together: "Lord, we cry hunger and thirst; Lord, feed us; +Lord, give us to drink." + +"Ah," said the good wife, "here is my Lord Lucifer and all his devils!" + +And when the voices had ceased the man made a sign with his hand, +and of a sudden the waters of the Lys rose as if God had lifted up +the river-bed. And the river became like a rough sea; but the waves +did not roll on the quay, but each lifted separately, bearing on its +crest a foam of fire. Then each of these flames rose into the air, +drawing up the water like a pillar, and there seemed to poor Smetse +and his wife and the men to be hundreds of thousands of these pillars +of water, swaying and foaming. + +Then each pillar took on the form of a fearful animal, and suddenly +there appeared, mingled together, striking and wounding one another, +all the devils whose work was to torment poor damned souls. There were +to be seen, crawling over crooked and shivering men's legs, monstrous +crabs, devouring those who were servile in their lives. Near these +crabs were ostriches bigger than horses, who ran along flapping their +wings. Under their tails they had laurel-wreaths, sceptres, and crowns, +and behind their tails were made to run those men who in our world +spent all their time running after vain honours, without a care for +doing good. And the ostriches went quicker than the wind, while the +men ran without respite behind them in the effort to get the wreaths, +crowns, and sceptres; but they could never reach them. In this way +they were led to a treacherous pond full of loathsome mud, wherein they +fell shamefully and stayed stuck for all eternity, whilst the mocking +ostriches walked up and down on the bank dangling their bawbles. + +Among the ostriches were squadrons of many-coloured apes, diapered +like butterflies, whose concern was with miserly Jewish and Lombard +usurers. These men, when they entered hell, looked round them +carefully, screwing up their eyes under their spectacles, collected +from the ground divers rusty nails, old breeches, filthy rags, buttons +showing the wood, and other old stuff, then dug a hole hastily, hid +their treasures in it and went off to sit down some way away. The apes, +seeing this, would leap on the hole, empty out its content, and throw +it into the fire. Then the misers would weep, make lamentations, and +be beaten by the apes, and at last go off to find some more secret +place, hide there once again their new depredations, and see once +again the hole emptied and the apes coming once again to beat them, +and so on for all eternity. + +In the air, above the apes, soared eagles, who had, instead of a beak, +four-and-twenty matchlock barrels firing together. These eagles were +called Royal, because their concern was with conqueror princes, who +were too fond in their lifetime of the sounds of war and cannon. And +for their punishment these matchlocks were fired off in their faces +again and again throughout eternity. + +Besides the ostriches, apes, and eagles, reared up a great serpent +with a bear's coat, who writhed and twisted this way and that. He was +of great length and breadth, beyond all measure, and had a hundred +thousand hairy arms, in each of which he held an iron pike as sharp +as a razor. He was called the Spaniards' Serpent, because in hell +it was his task to gash about with his pikes without mercy all the +bands of traitor pillagers who had despoiled our good country. + +Keeping clear of this serpent with great prudence, darted about +mischievous little winged pigs whose tails were eels. These tails +were designed for the perpetual teazing of such gluttons as came to +hell. For the pig would come up to such a one, hold the eel close to +his mouth, and, when he tried to bite it, suddenly fly away from him, +and so on throughout eternity. + +There were to be seen also, marching up and down in their gorgeous +feathers, monstrous peacocks. Whenever some vain dandy came their way, +giving himself airs in his fine clothes, one of these peacocks would +go to him and spread its tail, as if inviting him to pluck out a fine +feather for his bonnet. But as soon as the dandy approached to take +his feather, Master Peacock would let fly in his face with filthy +and evil-smelling water, which spoilt all his fine clothes. And +throughout eternity the dandy would try to get the feather, and +throughout eternity be so swilled down. + +Among these fearful animals, wandered two by two male and female +grasshoppers as big as a man, the one playing on a pipe, and the +other brandishing a great knotted stick. Whenever they saw a man who, +in his lifetime, leapt, by cowardice, from good to evil, from black to +white, from fire to water, always on the side of the strongest, these +grasshoppers would go to him, and one would play the pipe, while the +other, leaning on his stick with great dignity, would say: "Leap for +God," and the man would leap; "Leap for the Devil," and the man would +leap again; "Leap for Calvin, leap for the Mass, leap for the goat, +leap for the cabbage," and the man would keep leaping. But he never +leapt high enough for the liking of the grasshopper with the stick, +and so he was each time belaboured in a most pitiless manner. And he +leapt without ceasing and was belaboured without respite, while the +pipe made continual pleasant music, and so on throughout eternity. + +Farther on, naked and lying on cloths of gold, silk, and velvet, +covered with pearls and a thousand resplendent gems, more beautiful +than the most beautiful ladies of Ghent, Brussels, or Bruges, +lascivious and smiling, singing, and playing on sweet instruments, +were the wives of the devils. These dealt out punishment to old rakes, +corrupters of youth and beauty. To them these she-devils would call +out amorously, but they could never get near them. Throughout eternity +these poor rakes had to look at them without being able to touch them +even with the tip of the nail of their little finger. And they wept +and made lamentation, but all in vain, and so on through centuries +and centuries. + +There were also mischievous little devils with drums, made of the +skins of hypocrites, whose masks hung down over the drum case as +ornament. And the hypocrites to whom they belonged, without their +skins, without their masks, in all their ugliness, ashamed, hooted, +hissed, spat at, eaten up by horrible flies, and followed by the +little devils beating their drums, had to wander up and down hell +throughout eternity. + +It was good to see also the devils of conceited men. These were fine +great leathern bottles full of wind, finished off with a beak, at the +end of which was a reed. These bottles had eagle's feet and two good +little arms, with fingers long enough to go round the widest part of +the bottle. When the conceited man came into hell, saying: "I am great, +I am grand, strong, beautiful, victorious, I will overcome Lucifer +and marry his dam Astarte," the leathern bottles would come up to him +and say, with a deep reverence: "My lord, will you be pleased to let +us speak a word to you in secret, touching your high designs?" "Yes," +he would say. Then two bottles would stuff their reeds into his ears +in such a manner that he could not get them out again, and begin to +press in their bellies with their long fingers, so as to force wind +into his head, which thereupon swelled up, large and always larger, +and Master Self-Conceit rose into the air and went off to wander +throughout eternity, with his head bumping the ceiling of hell, +and his legs waving in the air in the efforts to get down again; +but all in vain. + +Marvellous devils were certain apes of quicksilver, always running, +tumbling, leaping, coming, and going. These devils bore down on +the lazy fellows who were thrown to them, gave them a spade to dig +earth with, a sword to polish, a tree to trim, or a book to con. The +lazybones would look at the task set him, saying: "To-morrow," +and would stretch his arms, scratching and yawning. But as soon +as he had his mouth wide open the ape would stuff into it a sponge +soaked in quintessence of rhubarb. "This," he would say mockingly, +"is for to-day; work, slug, work." Then, while the lazybones was +retching, the devil would thump him, shake him a hundred different +ways, giving him no more peace than a gadfly gives a horse, and so +on throughout eternity. + +Pleasing devils were pretty little children very wide-awake and +mischievous, whose concern was to teach learned orators to think, +speak, weep, and laugh according to common nature. And when they did +otherwise the little devils would rap them sharply on the knuckles. But +the poor pedants could no longer learn, being too heavy, old, and +stupid; so they had a rap on the knuckles every day and a whipping +on Sundays. + +And all these devils cried out together: "Master, we are hungry; +Master, give us to eat, pay somewhat for the good services we render +thee." + +And suddenly the man in the chariot made a sign, and the good River +Lys threw all these devils on the quay, as the sea splashes on the +shore, and they hissed loud and terribly at landing. + +And Smetse, his wife, and the workmen heard the doors of the cellars +open with a loud noise, and all the casks of bruinbier came hissing +up the stairs, and hissing across the floor of the forge, and still +hissing described a curve in the air and fell among the crowd of +all the devils. And so also did the bottles of wine, so also the +hams, loaves, and cheeses, and so also the good crusats, angelots, +philipdalers, and other moneys, which were all changed into meat and +drink. And the devils fell over one another, fought, scrambled, wounded +themselves, forming only one great mass of battling monsters, howling +and hissing, and each trying to get more than the others. When there +was left neither drop nor crumb, the man in the chariot made another +sign, and all the devils melted into black water and flowed into the +river, where they disappeared. And the man vanished from the sky. + +And Smetse Smee was as poor as before, save for one little bag of +golden royals, which his wife had by chance sprinkled with holy +water, and which he kept, although it came from the devil. But this, +as you shall see, did not profit him at all. And he lived with great +content until he died suddenly one day in his smithy, at the great +and blessed age of ninety-three years. + + + + +XVII. Of Hell, of Purgatory, of the long ladder, and finally of +Paradise. + +When he was dead his soul had to pass through Hell in the guise of a +smith. Coming thither he saw, through the open windows, the devils +which had so frightened him in the vision on the Lys, and who were +now busy torturing and tormenting the poor damned souls as terribly +as they could. And Smetse went to the doorkeeper; but the doorkeeper, +on seeing him, howled out in a most awful fashion: "Smetse is here, +Smetse Smee the traitor smith!" And he would not let him in. Hearing +the hubbub, My Lord Lucifer, Madam Astarte, and all their court came +to the windows, and all the other devils after them. + +And they all cried out in fear: + +"Shut the doors, 'tis the enchanted Smetse, Smetse the traitor smith, +Smetse the beater of poor devils. If he comes in here he will overset, +spoil, break up everything. Begone, Smetse!" + +"My masters," said Smetse, "if I do indeed come hither to look at +your snouts, which are not beautiful I promise ye, 'tis not at all +for my pleasure; and besides, I am not by any means anxious to come +in. So do not make such a noise, master devils." + +"Yes, indeed, my fine smith," answered Madam Astarte, "thou showest +a velvet pad now, but when thou art within thou wilt show thy claws +and thine evil intention, and will slay us all, me, my good husband, +and all our friends. Be off, Smetse; be off, Smee." + +"Madam," said Smetse, "you are indeed the most beautiful she-devil I +ever saw, but that is, nevertheless, no reason why you should think +so ill of a fellow-creature's intentions." + +"Hark to the fellow!" said Madam Astarte, "how he hides his wickedness +under sugared words! Drive him away, devils, but do him no great harm." + +"Madam," said Smetse, "I beg you to listen." + +"Be off, smith!" cried out all the devils; and they threw burning +coals at him, and whatever else they could find. And Smetse ran off +as fast as his legs would take him. + +When he had travelled some way he came before Purgatory. On the other +side was a ladder, with this inscription at its foot: "This is the +road to the good Paradise." + +And Smetse, filled with joy, began to climb the ladder, which was made +of golden thread, with here and there a sharp point sticking out, in +virtue of that saying of God which tells us: "Broad is the way which +leadeth to Hell, strait and rough the way to Heaven." And, indeed, +Smetse soon had his feet sore. Nevertheless, he made his way upward +without halting, and only stopped when he had counted ten hundred +thousand rungs and could see no more of either earth or hell. And he +became thirsty. Finding nothing to drink he became a little sullen, +when suddenly he saw a little cloud coming past, and drank it up +joyfully. It did not indeed seem to him as good drink as bruinbier, +but he took consolation from the thought that it is not possible +to have comforts everywhere alike. A little higher up the ladder he +suddenly had hard work to keep his bonnet on his head, by reason of +a treacherous autumn wind which was going down to earth to pull off +the last leaves. And by this wind he was sorely shaken, and nearly +lost his hold. After he was out of this pass he became hungry, and +regretted the good earthly beef, smoked over pine-cones, which is so +good a food for poor wayfarers. But he took heart, thinking that it +is not given to man to understand everything. + +Suddenly he saw an eagle of terrible aspect coming upon him from the +earth. Thinking for certain that he was some fat sheep, the eagle +rose above him and would have dropped on him like a cannon-ball; but +the good smith had no fear, bent to one side and caught the bird by +the neck, which he wrung subtly. Then, still going up, he hastened to +pluck it, ate morsels of it raw, and found them stringy. Nevertheless, +he took this meat with patience, because he had no other. Then, +patiently and bravely, he climbed for several days and several nights, +seeing nothing but the blue of the sky and innumerable suns, moons, +and stars above his head, under his feet, to right, to left, and +everywhere. And he seemed to be in the midst of a fair great globe, +whereof the inner walls had been painted this fair blue, strewn with +all these suns, moons, and stars. And he was frightened by the great +silence and by the immensity. + +Suddenly he felt a genial warmth, heard sweet voices singing, distant +music, and the sound of a city toiling. And he saw a town of infinite +size girt about with walls, over which he could see housetops, trees, +and towers. And he felt that he was moving more quickly despite his +own legs, and by and by, leaving the last rung behind, he set foot +before the gate of the town. + +"By Artevelde!" said he, "here is the good Paradise." + +And he knocked on the gate; St. Peter came to open to him. + +Smetse was somewhat frightened at the gigantic appearance of the good +saint, his great head of hair, his red beard, his large face, his high +forehead, and his piercing eyes, with which he looked at him fixedly. + +"Who art thou?" quoth he. + +"Master St. Peter," said the smith, "I am Smetse Smee, who in his +lifetime lived at Ghent on the Quai aux Oignons, and now prays you +to let him enter your good Paradise." + +"No," said St. Peter. + +"Ah, my master!" said Smetse most piteously, "if 'tis because in my +lifetime I sold my soul to the devil, I make bold to tell you that +I repented most heartily, and was redeemed from his power and kept +nothing that was his." + +"Excepting a sackful of royals," said the saint, "and on that account +thou shalt not come in." + +"Master," said the smith, "I am not so guilty as you suppose; the sack +stayed in my house because it had been blessed, and for that reason +I thought I might well keep it. But take pity on me, for I knew not +what I was doing. I pray you also to deign to consider that I come +from a far country, that I am greatly tired, and would gladly rest +in this good Paradise." + +"Be off, smith," said the saint, who was holding the door a crack open. + +Meanwhile Smetse had slipped through the opening, and taking off his +leathern apron sat down, saying: + +"Master, I am here rightfully, you cannot turn me out." + +But St. Peter bade a troop of halberdier angels who were near at hand +drive him away: and this the halberdier angels did with great dispatch. + +Thereafter, Smetse did not cease to beat on the door with his fists, +and lamented, wept, and cried out: "Master, have pity on me, let +me in, my master; I repent of all the sins I have committed, and +even the others as well. Master, grant me permission to enter the +blessed Paradise. Master...." But Master St. Peter, hearing this, +put his head over the wall: + +"Smith," said he, "if thou wilt persist in this uproar, I shall have +thee sent to Purgatory." + +And poor Smetse held his peace, and sat down on his seat, and so +passed sad days, watching others enter. + +In this wise a week went by, during which he lived on a few scraps of +bread which were thrown to him over the wall, and on grapes gathered +from a sour vine which grew on the outer face of the wall of Paradise +in this part. + +And Smetse was most unhappy, leading this idle existence. And he +sought in his head for some work or other which would gladden him +somewhat. Having found it, he shouted as loud as he could, and +St. Peter put his head over the wall. + +"What wilt thou, Smetse?" said he. + +"Master," answered the smith, "will you be pleased to let me go down +to earth for one night, so that I may see my good wife and look to +my affairs?" + +"Thou mayst, Smetse," answered St. Peter. + + + + +XVIII. Wherein it is seen why Smetse was whipped. + +It was then All Saints' Eve; bitter was the cold, and Smetse's good +wife was in her kitchen, brewing some good mixture of sugar, yolk of +egg, and bruinbier, to cure her of an evil catarrh, which had lain +upon her ever since her man died. + +Smetse came and knocked at the window of the kitchen, whereat his +wife was greatly frightened. + +And she cried out sadly: "Do not come and torment me, my man, if +'tis prayers thou wilt have. I say as many as I can, but I will say +more if need be. Wilt thou have masses said? Thou shalt have them, +and prayers and indulgences likewise. I will buy them, my man, +I promise thee; but go back quickly whence thou camest." + +Nevertheless Smetse went on knocking. "'Tis not masses or prayers," +said he, "that I want, but shelter, food, and drink, for bitter is +the cold, rude the wind, sharp the frost. Open, wife." + +But she, on hearing him speak thus, prayed the more and cried out +the louder, and beat her breast and crossed herself, but made no move +to open the door, saying only: "Go back, go back, my man; thou shalt +have prayers and masses." + +Suddenly the smith discerned an open window in the attic. He climbed +up and entered the house by that means, went down the stair, and, +opening the door, appeared before his wife; but as she kept drawing +back before him as he advanced, crying out and calling the neighbours +at the top of her voice, Smetse stood still so as not to frighten +her further, sat down on a stool, and said: + +"Dost not see, mother, that I am indeed Smetse, and wish thee no harm?" + +But his wife would listen to nothing and crept back into a +corner. Thence with her teeth a-chatter, and her eyes open wide, +she made a sign to him to leave her, for she could no longer find +her tongue, by reason of her great fear. + +"Wife," said the smith in friendly tones, "is it thus that thou givest +greeting and welcome to thy poor husband, after the long time he has +been away? Alas, hast forgot our old comradeship and union?" + +Hearing this soft and joyous voice she answered in a low tone and +with great timidity: + +"No, dead master." + +"Well then," said he, "why art thou so afraid? Dost not know thy man's +fat face, his round paunch, and the voice which in former days sang +so readily hereabout?" + +"Yes," she said, "I know thee well enough." + +And why," said he, "if thou knowest me, wilt not come to me and +touch me?" + +"Ah," said she, "I dare not, master, for 'tis said that whatever +member touches a dead man is itself dead." + +"Come, wife," said the smith, "and do not believe all these lying +tales." + +"Smetse," said she, "will you in good truth do me no hurt?" + +"None," said he, and took her by the hand. + +"Ah," she said suddenly, "my poor man, thou art cold and hungry and +thirsty indeed!" + +"Yes," said he. + +"Well then," said she, "eat, drink, and warm thyself." + +While Smetse was eating and drinking he told his wife how he had been +forbidden the door to Paradise, and how he designed to take from the +cellar a full cask of bruinbier and bottles of French wine, to sell +to those who went into the Holy City, so that he might be well paid, +and with the money he received buy himself better food. + +"This, my man," she said, "is all very well, but will Master St. Peter +give thee permission to set up at the gates of Paradise such a tavern?" + +"Of that," he said, "I have hope." + +And Smetse, laden with his cask and bottles, went his way back, +up towards the good Paradise. + +Having reached the foot of the wall he set up his tavern in the open +air, for the weather is mild in this heavenly land, and on the first +day all who went in drank at Smetse's stall, and paid him well out +of compassion. + +But one or two became drunk, and entering Paradise in this state, set +Master Peter inquiring into the cause of it; and having found it out +he enjoined Smetse to stop his selling, and had him whipped grievously. + + + + +XIX. Of the fair judgment of My Lord Jesus. + +Not long afterwards the good wife died also, by reason of the terror +that had seized hold of her at the sight of her man's ghost. + +And her soul went straight towards Paradise, and there she saw, sitting +with his seat against the wall, the poor Smetse in a fit of melancholy +brooding. When he saw her he jumped up with great joy, and said: + +"Wife, I will go in with thee." + +"Dost thou dare?" said she. + +"I will hide myself," said he, "under thy skirt, which is wide enough +for us both, and so I shall pass without being seen." + +When he had done this she knocked on the door, and Master St. Peter +came to open it. "Come in," he said, "good wife." But seeing Smetse's +feet below the hem of the skirt: "This wicked smith," he cried, +"will he always be making fun of me? Be off, devil-baggage!" + +"Ah, my master," said she, "have pity on him, or else let me stay out, +too, to keep him company." + +"No," said Master St. Peter, "thy place is here, his is outside. Come +in then, and let him be off at once." + +And the good wife went in while Smetse stayed outside. But as soon +as the noonday hour came, and the angel cooks had brought the good +wife her beautiful rice pudding, she went to the wall and put her +head over it. + +"Art thou there," she said, "my man?" + +"Yes," said he. + +"Art thou hungry?" she said. + +"Yes," said he. + +"Well then," she said, "spread thy leathern apron; I will throw thee +the pudding which has just been given me." + +"But thou," said he, "wilt thou eat nothing?" + +"No," said she, "for I have heard it said that there is supper by +and by." + +Smetse ate the rice pudding, and was suddenly filled with comfort, +for the pudding was more succulent and delicious than the finest meats +of the earth. Meanwhile his wife went off to walk about in the good +Paradise, and afterwards came back to Smetse to tell him what she +had seen. + +"Ah," she said, "my man, 'tis a most beautiful place. Would that +I could see thee within! Round about My Lord Jesus are the pure +intelligences who discuss with him whatever is goodness, love, justice, +knowledge, and beauty, and also the best means of governing men and +making them happy. Their speech is like music. And all the while they +keep throwing down to earth the seeds of beautiful, good, just and true +thoughts. But men are so wicked and stupid that they tread underfoot +these fair seeds or let them wither away. Farther on, established in +their several places, are potters and goldsmiths, masons, painters, +tanners and fullers, carpenters and shipbuilders, and thou shouldst +see what fine work they do, each in his own trade. And when they have +made some progress they cast down the seed of that also towards the +earth, but 'tis lost oftentimes." + +"Wife," said Smetse, "didst see no smiths?" + +"Yes," said she. + +"Alas," said he, "I would gladly be working alongside them, for I am +ashamed to be sitting here like a leper, doing nothing and begging my +bread. But listen, wife; since Master St. Peter will not let me in, +go thou and ask grace for me from My Lord Jesus, who is kind and will +let me in for certain." + +"I go, my man," said she. + +My Lord Jesus, who was in council with his doctors, saw her coming +towards him. "I know thee, good wife," said he; "thou wast in thy +lifetime wedded to Smetse the smith, who entreated me so well when, +in the guise of a little child, I came down to earth with Master +Joseph and Madam Mary. Is he not in Paradise, thy good man?" + +"Alas, no, My Lord!" answered she, "my man is at the door, most sad +and out of heart, because Master St. Peter will not let him in." + +"Why is that?" said My Lord Jesus. + +"Ah, I cannot tell," said she. + +But the angel who writes down the faults of men in a record of brass, +speaking suddenly, said: "Smetse cannot enter Paradise, for Smetse, +delivered from the devil, kept devil's money." + +"Ah," said My Lord Jesus, "that is a great sin; but has he not repented +of it?" + +"Yes," said the good wife, "he has repented, and, moreover, he has +been all his life good, charitable, and compassionate." + +"Go and find him," said My Lord Jesus, "I will question him myself." + +Two or three halberdier angels ran to obey him, and brought Smetse +before the Son of God, who spoke in this wise: + +"Smetse, is it true that thou didst keep devil's money?" + +"Yes, My Lord," answered the smith, whose knees were knocking together +with fear. + +"Smetse, this is not good, for a man should rather suffer every ill, +pain, and anguish, than keep the money of one who is wicked, ugly, +unjust, and a liar, as is the devil. But hast thou no meritorious +deed to tell me, to mitigate this great sin?" + +"My Lord," answered Smetse, "I fought a long while beside the men +of Zeeland for freedom of conscience, and, doing this, suffered with +them hunger and thirst." + +"This is good, Smetse, but didst thou persist in this fair conduct?" + +"Alas, no, My Lord!" said the smith, "for, to tell truth, my courage +lacked constancy, and I went back to Ghent, where, like so many +another, I came under the Spanish yoke." + +"This is bad, Smetse," answered My Lord Jesus. + +"My Lord," wept the good wife, "none was more generous than he to +the poor, kind to every one, charitable to his enemies, even to the +wicked Slimbroek." + +"This is good, Smetse," said My Lord Jesus; "but hast thou no other +merit in thy favour?" + +"My Lord," said the smith, "I have always laboured with a good heart, +hated idleness and melancholy, loved joy and merriment, sung gladly, +and drunk with thankfulness the bruinbier which came to me from you." + +"This is good, Smetse, but it is not enough." + +"My Lord," answered the smith, "I thrashed as soundly as I could +the wicked ghosts of Jacob Hessels, the Duke of Alva, and Philip II, +King of Spain." + +"Smetse," said My Lord Jesus, "this is very good. I grant thee leave +to enter my Paradise." + + + + + + + + UNIFORM WITH "FLEMISH LEGENDS" + + THE LEGEND OF TYL ULENSPIEGEL + + BY CHARLES DE COSTER + + Translated by Geoffrey Whitworth. With 20 Woodcuts by + Albert Delstanche. 7s. 6d. net + + +SOME PRESS OPINIONS + +"Tyl Ulenspiegel is not yet, in most English households, an old +friend. Yet we believe that the fellow will soon make his brave and +humorous way into the friendship of old and young. And the twenty +full-page woodcuts with which M. Albert Delstanche has illustrated +this edition will help the friendship on. All the heartiness, the +ruggedness, the fun, and the gloom of one tragic period in the history +of a homely and much-enduring people are expressed through the eye +to the mind by M. Delstanche's knowledge and skill."--The Times. + +"An excellent translation has brought a notable example of modern +Belgian literature within the reach of readers in this country. Taking +as his central figure the scampish Tyl Ulenspiegel, already in the +sixteenth century a traditional personage, De Coster produced a +remarkable reconstruction of Flemish life in the days of Spanish +oppression and of the famous 'Beggars'."--Scotsman. + +"On the large scale, the obvious work of a master, a man who knew +sorrow but who loved to share the mirth and good living of his fellows, +mocked impostors wherever he found them, and had a hatred of cruelty +and injustice that is like lightning. It is one of the rare books, +full of sad laughter and warm understanding, of the order of 'Don +Quixote'."--The Nation. + +"It is a happy thought which has brought out Mr. Geoffrey Whitworth's +version of 'The Legend of Tyl Ulenspiegel' now ... for the +description of it as the 'national epic of Flanders' has much more +meaning than such phrases usually have.... And all the adventures +of Tyl and his friends have this quality of reality in fairy-land, +whether they are grotesque or tragic. The book has tragedy in it +to balance its boisterous comedy, but the two are combined in a +style whose generosity and exuberance make their union complete +and satisfactory. It is a great book indeed. Mr. Whitworth is to be +congratulated on his excellently easy and vivid translation; and the +woodcuts of M. Albert Delstanche are all exceedingly impressive and +many exceedingly beautiful."--Land and Water. + +"It is hardly too much to say that De Coster's book is a work of pure +genius.... At such a moment as the present no publication could be +more timely than this English version of what will inevitably rank as +a great epic of Belgian nationality.... For the rest, we have only to +compliment the publishers, the translator, and the illustrator upon +their joint efforts to present a fine work in a worthy and acceptable +form."--The Guardian. + +"The illustrator's bold and luminous drawings certainly catch the +bluff spirit of Charles de Coster's quaint masterpiece, in which the +transition-age between mediaevalism and modernity lives again so grimly, +so shrewdly, so humorously. Here there is a suitable gift-book for all +who love to travel in the highways of world-literature."--Morning Post. + +"It is, of course, for adults and not for children, with its grim +horrors and its full-blooded jollity. What we have learnt to call the +soul of a people is in it--the spirit of Flanders. The force of De +Coster's style loses nothing in Mr. Geoffrey Whitworth's translation, +and there are admirable illustrations cut on the wood by M. Albert +Delstanche."--Daily Telegraph. + +"A most remarkable volume."--Glasgow Herald. + +"Reading it for the first time in Mr. Whitworth's admirable English +version, one is amazed at first that it has not been rendered +previously. De Coster will never require another English version, +and this one book of 'glorious adventures' is aureole enough to ensure +his place on the great hierarchy of literature."--The Bookman. + + + + + + + +NOTE + + +[1] His biography has been written by Charles Potvin. Charles de +Coster; Sa Biographie. Weissenbruch; Brussels. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Flemish Legends, by Charles de Coster + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FLEMISH LEGENDS *** + +***** This file should be named 37668.txt or 37668.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/6/6/37668/ + +Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net/ for Project +Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously +made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |