Part 9 (2/2)
”Else the egg takes not after the bird. Why is her father called the magician? I tell you they bewitched this very Peter here; they cast unholy spells on him, and cured him of the colic: now, Peter, look and tell me who is that? and you be silent, women, for a moment, if you can; who is it, Peter?”
”Well to be sure!” said Peter in reply: and his eye seemed fascinated by the picture.
”Who is it?” repeated Ghysbrecht, impetuously.
Peter Buyskens smiled. ”Why you know as well as I do; but what have they put a crown on her for, I never saw her in a crown, for my part.”
”Man alive! Can't you open your great jaws, and just speak a wench's name plain out to oblige three people?”
”I'd do a great deal more to oblige one of you than that, burgomaster.
If it isn't as natural as life!”
”Curse the man! he won't, he won't--curse him!”
”Why, what have I done, now?”
”Oh, sir!” said little Kate, ”for pity's sake tell us; are these the features of a living woman, of--of--Margaret Brandt?”
”A mirror is not truer, my little maid.”
”But is it she, sir, for very certain?”
”Why, who else should it be?”
”Now, why couldn't you say so at once?” snarled Ghysbrecht.
”I did say so, as plain as I could speak,” snapped Peter; and they growled over this small bone of contention so zealously, that they did not see Catherine and her daughter had thrown their ap.r.o.ns over their heads, and were rocking to and fro in deep distress. The next moment Elias came in from the shop, and stood aghast. Catherine, though her face was covered, knew his footstep.
”That is my poor man,” she sobbed. ”Tell him, good Peter Buyskens, for I have not the courage.”
Elias turned pale. The presence of the burgomaster in his house, after so many years of coolness, coupled with his wife's and daughter's distress, made him fear some heavy misfortune.
”Richart! Jacob!” he gasped.
”No! no!” said the burgomaster; ”it is nearer home, and n.o.body is dead or dying, old friend.”
”G.o.d bless you, burgomaster! Ah! something is gone off my breast that was like to choke me. Now, what is the matter?”
Ghysbrecht then told him all that he told the women, and showed the picture in evidence.
”Is that all?” said Eli, profoundly relieved. ”What are ye roaring and bellowing for? It is vexing, it is angering, but it is not like death nor even sickness. Boys will be boys. He will outgrow that disease: 'tis but skin deep.”
But when Ghysbrecht told him that Margaret was a girl of good character; that it was not to be supposed she would be so intimate if marriage had not been spoken of between them, his brow darkened.
”Marriage? that shall never be,” said he, sternly. ”I'll stay that, ay, by force if need be, as I would his hand lifted to cut his throat. I'd do what old John Koestein did t'other day.”
”And what is that, in Heaven's name?” asked the mother, suddenly removing her ap.r.o.n.
It was the burgomaster who replied:
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