Part 10 (1/2)
”He made me shut young Albert Koestein up in the prison of the Stadthouse till he knocked under: it was not long. Forty-eight hours, all alone, on bread and water, cooled his hot stomach. 'Tell my father I am his humble servant,' says he, 'and let me into the sun once more--the sun is worth all the wenches in the world.'”
”Oh the cruelty of men!” sighed Catherine.
”As to that, the burgomaster has no choice: it is the law. And if a father says, 'Burgomaster, lock up my son,' he must do it. A fine thing it would be if a father might not lock up his own son.”
”Well, well! it won't come to that with me and my son. He never disobeyed me in his life: he never shall. Where is he? It is past supper-time. Where is he, Kate?”
”Alas, I know not, father.”
”I know,” said Ghysbrecht; ”he is at Sevenbergen. My servant met him on the road.”
Supper pa.s.sed in gloomy silence. Evening descended--no Gerard: eight o'clock came--no Gerard. Then the father sent all to bed except Catherine.
”You and I will walk abroad, wife, and talk over this new care.”
”Abroad, my man, at this time? Whither?”
”Why on the road to Sevenbergen.”
”Oh no, no hasty words, father. Poor Gerard! he never vexed you before.”
”Fear me not. But it must end; and I am not one that trusts to-morrow with to-day's work.”
The old pair walked hand in hand; for strange as it may appear to some of my readers, the use of the elbow to couples walking was not discovered in Europe till centuries after this. They sauntered on a long time in silence. The night was clear and balmy. Such nights, calm and silent, recall the past from the dead.
”It is a many years since we walked so late, my man,” said Catherine, softly.
”Ay, sweetheart, more than we shall see again (Is he never coming, I wonder?”)
”Not since our courting days, Eli.”
”No. Ay, you were a buxom la.s.s then.”
”And you were a comely lad, as ever a girl's eye stole a look at. I do suppose Gerard is with her now, as you used to be with me. Nature is strong, and the same in all our generations.”
”Nay, I hope he has left her by now, confound her, or we shall be here all night.”
”Eli!”
”Well, Kate?”
”I have been happy with you sweetheart, for all our rubs,--much happier, I trow, than if I had--been--a--a--nun. You won't speak harshly to the poor child? One can be firm without being harsh.”
”Surely.”
”Have you been happy with me, my poor Eli?”
”Why, you know I have. Friends I have known, but none like thee. Buss me, wife!”