One bright morning unwonted velvet1 shone, unwonted feathers waved, and horses' hoofs2 glinted and ran through the streets of Tergou, and the windows and balconies were studded with wondering faces. The French ambassador was riding through to sport in the neighbouring forest.
Besides his own suite4, he was attended by several servants of the Duke of Burgundy, lent to do him honour and minister to his pleasure. The Duke's tumbler rode before him with a grave, sedate5 majesty6, that made his more noble companions seem light, frivolous7 persons. But ever and anon, when respect and awe8 neared the oppressive, he rolled off his horse so ignobly9 and funnily, that even the ambassador was fain' to burst out laughing. He also climbed up again by the tail in a way provocative10 of mirth, and so he played his part. Towards the rear of the pageant11 rode one that excited more attention still—the Duke's leopard12. A huntsman, mounted on a Flemish horse of giant prodigious13 size and power, carried a long box fastened to the rider's loins by straps14 curiously15 contrived16, and on this box sat a bright leopard crouching17. She was chained to the huntsman. The people admired her glossy18 hide and spots, and pressed near, and one or two were for feeling her, and pulling her tail; then the huntsman shouted in a terrible voice, “Beware! At Antwerp one did but throw a handful of dust at her, and the Duke made dust of him.”
“Gramercy!”
“I speak sooth. The good Duke shut him up in prison, in a cell under ground, and the rats cleaned the flesh off his bones in a night. Served him right for molesting19 the poor thing.”
There was a murmur20 of fear, and the Tergovians shrank from tickling21 the leopard of their sovereign.
But an incident followed that raised their spirits again. The Duke's giant, a Hungarian seven feet four inches high, brought up the rear. This enormous creature had, like some other giants, a treble, fluty voice of little power. He was a vain fellow, and not conscious of this nor any defect. Now it happened he caught sight of Giles sitting on the top of the balcony; so he stopped and began to make fun of him.
“Hallo! brother!” squeaked23 he, “I had nearly passed without seeing thee.”
“You are plain enough to see,” bellowed25 Giles in his bass3 tones.
“Come on my shoulder, brother,” squeaked Titan, and held out a shoulder of mutton fist to help him down.
“If I do I'll cuff26 your ears,” roared the dwarf27.
The giant saw the homuncule was irascible, and played upon him, being encouraged thereto by the shouts of laughter. For he did not see that the people were laughing not at his wit, but at the ridiculous incongruity28 of the two voices—the gigantic feeble fife, and the petty deep, loud drum, the mountain delivered of a squeak24, and the mole-hill belching29 thunder.
The singular duet came to as singular an end. Giles lost all patience and self-command, and being a creature devoid30 of fear, and in a rage to boot, he actually dropped upon the giant's neck, seized his hair with one hand, and punched his head with the other. The giant's first impulse was to laugh, but the weight and rapidity of the blows soon corrected that inclination32.
“He! he! Ah! ha! hallo! oh! oh! Holy saints! here! help! or I must throttle33 the imp31. I can't! I'll split your skull34 against the—” and he made a wild run backwards35 at the balcony. Giles saw his danger, seized the balcony in time with both hands, and whipped over it just as the giant's head came against it with a stunning36 crack. The people roared with laughter and exultation37 at the address of their little champion. The indignant giant seized two of the laughers, knocked them together like dumb-bells, shook them and strewed38 them flat—Catherine shrieked39 and threw her apron40 over Giles—then strode wrathfully away after the party. This incident had consequences no one then present foresaw. Its immediate41 results were agreeable. The Tergovians turned proud of Giles, and listened with more affability to his prayers for parchment. For he drove a regular trade with his brother Gerard in this article. Went about and begged it gratis42, and Gerard gave him coppers43 for it.
On the afternoon of the same day, Catherine and her daughter were chatting together about their favourite theme, Gerard, his goodness, his benefice, and the brightened prospects44 of the whole family.
Their good luck had come to them in the very shape they would have chosen; besides the advantages of a benefice such as the Countess Charolois would not disdain45 to give, there was the feminine delight at having a priest, a holy man, in their own family. “He will marry Cornelis and Sybrandt: for they can wed22 (good housewives), now, if they will. Gerard will take care of you and Giles, when we are gone.”
“Yes, mother, and we can confess to him instead of to a stranger,” said Kate.
“Ay, girl! and he can give the sacred oil to your father and me, and close our eyes when our time comes.”
“Oh, mother! not for many, many years, I do pray Heaven. Pray speak not of that, it always makes me sad. I hope to go before you, mother dear. No; let us be gay to-day. I am out of pain, mother, quite out of all pain; it does seem so strange; and I feel so bright and happy, that—mother, Can you keep a secret?”
“Nobody better, child. Why, you know I can.”
“Then I will show you something so beautiful. You never saw the like, I trow. Only Gerard must never know; for sure he means to surprise us with it; he covers it up so, and sometimes he carries it away altogether.”
Kate took her crutches46, and moved slowly away, leaving her mother in an exalted47 state of curiosity. She soon returned with something in a cloth, uncovered it, and there was a lovely picture of the Virgin48, with all her insignia, and wearing her tiara over a wealth of beautiful hair, which flowed loose over her shoulders. Catherine, at first, was struck with awe.
“It is herself,” she cried; “it is the Queen of Heaven. I never saw one like her to my mind before.”
“And her eyes, mother: lifted to the sky, as if they belonged there, and not to a mortal creature. And her beautiful hair of burning gold.”
“And to think I have a son that can make the saints live again upon a piece of wood!”
“The reason is, he is a young saint himself, mother. He is too good for this world; he is here to portray49 the blessed, and then to go away and be with them for ever.”
Ere they had half done admiring it, a strange voice was heard at the door. By one of the furtive50 instincts of their sex they hastily hid the picture in the cloth, though there was no need, And the next moment in came, casting his eyes furtively51 around, a man that had not entered the house this ten years Ghysbrecht Van Swieten.
The two women were so taken by surprise, that they merely stared at him and at one another, and said, “The burgomaster!” in a tone so expressive52, that Ghysbrecht felt compelled to answer it.
“Yes! I own the last time I came here was not on a friendly errand. Men love their own interest—Eli's and mine were contrary. Well, let this visit atone53 the last. To-day I come on your business and none of mine.” Catherine and her daughter exchanged a swift glance of contemptuous incredulity. They knew the man better than he thought.
“It is about your son Gerard.”
“Ay! ay! you want him to work for the town all for nothing. He told us.”
“I come on no such errand. It is to let you know he has fallen into bad hands.”
“Now Heaven and the saints forbid! Man, torture not a mother! Speak out, and quickly: speak ere you have time to coin falsehood: ............