THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES V LD MARGARET. OLD MARGARET. I fffDtl. BY HENRY KINGSLEY, AUTEOB OP " BiVENSHOE," " MADRMOISELLK MATHILDE," " GE07PEY HAMLTN," ETC. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : TINSLEY BROTHERS, 18, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND. 187L lAll rights of Translation and Eeproduction are reterved.] LONDON : BATIXL, EDWABDS AND CO., PBINTEKS, CHANDOS STBEBT COVBNT GAKDE^f. >J0 I A I/, / OLD MAEGARET. CHAPTER I. ^ ^^^/^S^^I^T five-and-forty, Van Kenning was a confirmed old bachelor. Wildways said that in four- teen or fifteen years he might marry his housekeeper and settle in life; but this was only looked on as a joke, even by the Duke himself " Van Kenning is not such an ass/' the Duke said. " He comes of a long-lived stock, and a money-getting stock, and a money-holding stock. He will never let a VOL. I. 1 BESERVE Old Margaret. woman have the dipping of her hand into his pocket." " Yet he is fond of a pretty face," said a smirking hoy nohleman. " Then he had better get your portrait painted by one of his friends, the artists," replied the Duke, "and get it done before you have spoilt it by fast living. I tell you that Van Kenning is a confirmed old bachelor, and that in twenty years you will look older than he does now, puppy." The rest of the gentlemen present were seized with a somewhat troublesome cough. The Duke had evidently got out of bed the wrong side that morning. " Van Kenning is worth half the grinning sabies in the kino;dora," the Duke went on. " He is a wise man : he loves his friends, his pictures, his dinner, and the bow-window of his club. He is a happy old bachelor. I Old Margaret. wish to heaven /were; but that is past praying for." It was so painfully true, that the French Ambassador, who happened to be present, showed the tact of his nation by saying that if this weather lasted, the hay would be got in nicely. " You should know," said the Duke ; " your people generally make hay while the sun shines. Will you dine down the river with me to-day, Count, and we will talk that matter over again ; and I will catch Van Kenning. His views are very much fixed, he is a staunch freetrader, and knows more about wool than all the council together." "He is strong for the trades unions, though," said the Frenchman. "Let us have him, however." Meanwhile, the unconscious Van Kenning had finished his breakfast, and was prepar- 1—2 Old Margaret. ing to spend his day. When he had shut his street door behind him, and stood in the bright June sunlight, looking up and down the street, he was the best dressed buck in the West-end of the town that day, the dandy Duke not excepted ; and he knew it. Was any one looking at him ? Not a crea- ture but the policeman ; and so he stepped off down the street towards his club, to hear the news. There was nobody there but old PifFer, whom he hated. And old PifFer said that a glass of Schiedam gin with a small spoonful of honey in it was an excellent thing for the wind, and that he had just been having some of it himself. Van Kenning left the nasty old fellow in the bay window, and struck resolutely eastwards towards the trading and manufacturing parts of the town. Old Margaret. Manufactories, which have now been moved nearer to the coal measures, were abundant then, supporting a vast popula- tion in streets now let for mere dwelling- houses. No power was in action then in the city excepting hand-power ; steam was not yet utilized, and in so level a country so near the sea, no generation of power was possible by gravitation ; that is to say, there was no available water-power. The "hands" had it pretty much their own way, and they knew it, as did their masters also. s The trades unions of those times were little more than guilds, kept together mainly on sentimental grounds. There was indeed little necessity for any combination of labour against capital. The mechanics were in most respects the most powerful and diffi- cult body in the State. Divide ei impera Old Margaret. was the only way of managing them at all. It is actually true that violent and fatal riots were common between different trades unions, but on the least symptom of op- pression by the aristocracy they were united and dangerous at once. They were united and dangerous now. A girl of their order had disappeared. She was not very beautiful, and by no means of good character, being in fact a general favourite among the young men, more for her wit and sprightliness than for her dis- cretion. No man would have thought of marrying her, but she had disappeared, and more than one lord was suspected, and so they were determined to make an Appius and Virginia case of it. Certain rumours of this kind had reached good Van Kenning that morning, and he determined to go and hear what Old Margaret. was the matter. For Yan Kenning stood in rather a curious position. He was one of the richest men in the State, and his money had been made by trade ; yet having realized and retired, he was no longer a representative of the masters, and his know- ledge of their waj^s and habits caused him to be a kind of ambassador between masters and men, exciting no jealousy from either party. More than once, on occasions similar to the present, had he assisted at keeping the peace; more than once had he been com- pelled to depart, muttering, " Confound you, fight it out then !" On this occasion, he knew little or nothing of the matter, but he very soon discovered that something was wrong. He was in a broad and nearly empty street when the boom of a large bell struck 8 Old Margaret. on his ear ; he pulled out his watch, looked at it, and fled with two or three others into an archway. It was noon. Like the green sea-water through the sluices, when the Dutch have flooded the Polders and the Spaniard stands impo- tently cursing on the dyke, came the swarm of workmen down the street, re- cruited at each large house by a fresh stream. They were only going to their dinners, but the experienced eye of Van Kenning saw at once that there was some- thing very wrong. The men were boisterous without being merry, laughing, and yet savage. There was a dim, dull anger in their noise at this noontide which he well knew would break into wild fury when night and leisure came as handmaidens, to see sedition to her red couch. There was something evidently Old Margaret worse amiss than he had guessed of at first. A lean little old Alderman, who had taken shelter with him, seemed to be the most likely person to inquire of. He asked him what was the matter. The Alderman was very lean and very slow of speech. He said — " Van Dysart has carried off Martina, and I wish him joy of his bargain. We shall all be murdered in our beds." " Do you mean that they accuse him of tliat?" " They will when they have cut his throat, and burnt the West End," said the alderman. " I suppose that I had better put a stop to it, then," said Van Kenning, taking out his watch. " Don't put yourself out of the way on my account," said the Alderman. " Still, if 10 Old Margaret. you could manage to keep your friends' claws off some of our throats for a year or two I should be obliged." "The devil shall have the first turn at me, on my honour," said Van Kenning, lauo-hin'?. "Go to the Club and wait there ; I will go and stop it at once. The rascals must be mad." The street was empty enough now. The old Alderman saw Dandy Van Kenning turn down one of the worst lanes in the neighbourhood and disappear. This was ten minutes after twelve. When the men returned to the workshops at one, they paused to read this notice posted at the entrance of each factory : — " We have been in error, and no wrong has been done. Heads of Sections desiring further information are requested to apply to the Divisional Secretary." Old Margaret. 1 1 One or two did so. The answer was easily given. " The girl has become tired of her life, and has gone to religion. She is under the protection of Miss Margaret Van Eyck." "Your authority is good?" " Van Kenning." So instead of being a night of riot it was a night of beer, skittles and flirtation after all. CHAPTER II. e^ ^ UT we have not got throiigh Van Kenning's day yet. He walked tbouglitfully throufrh the streets until he came to a certain sundial in a certain square belonging to an Inn of Court, at which he was accustomed to set his watch. (Dent, Arnold, or Frodsham were not in business yet. ) And while he was doing so, a footman in the royal livery stepped up to him, and bowing, gave him a letter. It was the invitation from his Majesty to dine down the river with the French Am- Old Margaret. 13 bassador. He folded it again, and, followed by the footman, went straight to his Club, and taking pen and ink wrote across the King's letter in French : — Kf Of Wfvg gbt Cvshvoez But thinking of the old dodge of dis- covering cyphers by the recurrence of the letter E and A he made it more difficult. Lg, Pg, xgwz, Rcu, and more in the same cypher, the only undiscoverable one ever invented. The King read it, and said, " Hang him, he won't come." What Van Kenning had written in French was this : — " I do not want Bur- gundy!'' ^i^cl he had gone on, "I shall stick to Schiedam. Tell Champagne not to be seen speaking to me. I have stopped a riot for you of which you knew nothing and I but little. I enjoy life, and therefore cannot afford to be seen speaking to you. 14 Old Margaret " As for the money you want, I have paid it to Margaret. She Avill give it you. Do not attempt to leave any security with her or with me. Your handwriting would hang us both. ■ " Is the sheep-dog a wolf ? Sometimes I think that it would be better to sink this land under the sea for a day ; but then we should drown Margaret, you say. Well, I will not dine with you." After despatching this insolently seditious letter to his Sovereign, Van Kenning felt that he must do something respectable. And he was singularly befriended by his good or evil genius. For looking out of the club bow-window, whom should he see but the Archbishop, with a book under his arm, walldng down' the sunny side of the street, and looking into the shop win- dows. Old Margaret. 15 He descended swiftly, and put his arm into the Archbishop's. The Archbishop turned his highly noble kindly face towards him, and said — " I was looking for you." " And I was looking for you," said Van Kenning. "What did you want with me?" said the Archbishop. " I wanted to be seen walking with some one respectable," said Van Kenning. " Not easy just now. It will cost you money. It is an expensive luxury. You must pay for it." "How much?" "Forty pounds." " I will give you all I have, as you know, but this is so strange. You have never asked before." "My dear man, I have actually no 16 Old Margaret. money left. Never you mind what I have done with my money " "As I know, I will not ask," said Van Kenning. " Well," said the Archbishop, " here is the state of the case. A woman of very bad character has repented of her sins, and being pursued by the bailiffs, requires forty pounds. She has fled for refuge to Mar- garet, who, of course, declares that her story holds good, and either they must pay the money to-day, or I must, or you must. You had much better do it." " Dear me," said Van Kenning, " I paid that money last night. Margaret had it." " The more foolish you," said the Arch- bishop. " You asked me to pay it yourself just now," said Van Kenning, very naturally. "To screen Margaret; yes. It is a case Old Margaret. 17 of casuistry. Answer me : Can a clock be right if the hands are wrong?" "No." • "Yes. Margaret is right in what she has done; yet she is utterly wrong. As priest I could not warn her; as man of the world you might have done so. My curate tells me that there was to have been a riot about this woman, but that you stopped it. I almost wish that you had not." " Is the woman so utterly worthless then?" asked Van Kenning. " AVhen you and I are in our graves, she will be working mischief and evil," said the Archbishop. " Yet they say that she is kindly, good- humoured, charitable ; and she is certainly popular." " She is a devil," said the Archbishop. VOL. I. 2 18 Old J\rargaret. " She is tlie last flame which came from Gomorrah before the Dead Sea closed over it. " Yet you have been so gentle and so good with these women." " Not with such as this. She is the first I have seen." "Then why, Archbisho]), do you allow her to go into Margaret and Hubert's house?" " Because I can lay my hand on her — because I can tame her by what your friends call superstition." "Hush! some one will hear you." " What do I care? Let the civil autho- rities tame their fiends by solitary con- finement, and leave us to tame our devils in our wa}'. I want to mew this woman up." " But, my dear Pri 1 mean Arch- Old Margaret. 19 bishop, are you quite sure that you under- stand women?" The Archbishop looked down on him with something like contempt. " I always understood that the accusation which your school brought against us was, that we understood your women better than you did yourselves. I thought that had been always understood. Certainly I see twenty women at church for one man. I always thought that the arrangement be- tween the priest and the woman was an accepted thing. I, who am Archbishop, thought I had seen through the women, and was in hopes that I might get at the men. But when a man of the world like yourself tells me that I cannot even understand a woman, I of course give up." "Do not be angry, dear Archbishop," 20 Old Margaret. said Van Kenning. " Come, earn the forty pounds, and let us walk and see Margaret." " Let us go. She is worth us all." " One word more, Arclibishop. Is this woman really dangerous ?" " Not to us. She is cowardly and super- stitious. She is no Jezebel or even Cleopatra. To you she is ver}^ dangerous. If you knew what was best for you, you Radicals, you would leave her to our tender mer- cies." " But you priests cannot be trusted," said Van Kenning. " Oh yes we can, if you treat us fairly," said the Archbishop. " We shall win in the long run if you force our hand ; we have the women, and the women have you." " And I could have every church in this town sacked, and every priest hung to- morrow," said Van Kenning, quietly. Old Margaret. 2 1 " That is quite true," said the Arch- bishop. " And what a nice life your wo- men would lead you afterwards. There is a woman at the bottom of everything. For you have the thirty thousand Ursulas — I mean Ursula and the thirty thousand virgins — there is a woman in the matter here. Look at this !" They were opposite one of those nonde- script places which might be seen in nearly all towns until the last twenty years. In Paris represented by a flash cafe, in London by a public-house generally kept by a prize-fighter. They have disappeared, or are disappearing, even in Australia and Washoe ; but this was one. There was a furious riot of some sort in- side; and even while they were asking a policeman the meaning of it, the riot over- flowed the door, and the rioters came 22 Old Margaret. pouring out before the Alderman and the Archbishop. The two stepped back against the wall, with the policeman, and looked on a sight seldom seen now, but not un- common then. " There will be a fight," said the Arch- bishop. That was soon evident. The confusion of rioters begun from the very first to show a tendency to make a circle; that circle grew more defined each moment, and on the utterance of a few sharp and terrible words (not producible here), formed itself perfect, in the dead silence of expectation, with two men opposite to one another in the centre. The man who happened to be facing the Alderman and the Archbisliop was well known to both of them: a nobleman, on whose person and face were written three Old Margaret. 23 centuries of careful breeding and irrespon- sible ferocity; a great man, with tbe strength of an elephant, and the brain and lissomc- ness of the tiger ; a man bred as carefully as a race-horse, and with about as much education. The last and nearly the most terrible form of this man which we have produced in England, was killed in about his twentieth duel thirty years ago come — . We will call this man Van Dysart. The man whose back was towards them was evidently more slender and younger; in the melee inside he had got uncovered, while Van Dysart had his hat on, pressed over his forehead. When the Archbishop got a good sight of this bareheaded young man he tried to force his way through the crowd to get at him. Van Kenning tried also, but said to the policeman, "There will be blood." 24 Old Margaret. " Deatli," said the policeman. But all the archbishops, policemen and aldermen in the world would not have been permitted to interfere between the people and their spectacle — that of two of the jTOvernino: orders at one another's throat. A well brutalized population loves a fight and hates to see it stopped. There are cases in point : such as that of the fate of the young monk of whom you may read in your Gibbon, during the decadence of the Komans : the fiite of any one who would interfere at a buU-iight in Spain, in the present decadence of that country: a solitary policeman at an old English prize-fight : — all these cases prove that a brutalized people will have no one standing between themselves and their sport. The Archbishop might have got through Old Margaret. 25 and have rendered my pen dumb on the subject, but he was told to stand back. Seeing that he could do no good he stood still, and prayed rapidly and silently, in his great haste, a very singular prayer. He prayed that the bareheaded young man with his back towards him might kill Van Dysart. And all this had taken place in about two minutes and a half. "My Lord," said the Archbishop's young gentleman, "I have nothing to add to what I said before, when we were sepa- rated in the common hell and brothel, into which I only entered because it was the most evil and worst reputed hole in the town, and that therefore I was certain of finding your lordship there. You are a false liar and a false hound. When you say that I blackened your name in a cer- tain quarter you lie. It needed no black- 26 Old Margaret. ening. AYlien you say that I avoided encountering 3^ou, you lie again." " Anything more?" said Van Dysart. " No. Women scold." "Then, as you have to die, you had better die decently. You have the sun full in your face ; and you have lost your hat. Shift round and get the half sun, and we will both fight bareheaded. There goes my hat." It was past any one's mending now. There was a sharp click and a sliding sound, snake-like and devilish, and the naked steel, mother of blood, was out, and must be wiped clean before it went back to the scabbard. They stood before one another for nearly a minute, with the points of their swords do^m, tapping the ground in front of their feet, looking one another steadily in the Old Margaret. 27 eyes. At last Van Dysart said to the dead silence around, "The embrogliato is to come from me, then?'' He put his sword in tierce, level with his right eye, and advanced very slowly on his adversary. His adversary met him also in tierce, so declining, but with every muscle in his thigh ready for his backward spring at the first feint. Yan Dysart tapped his sword three or four times against his ad- versary's, made a rapid flickering feint in carte, and walked away laughing. For an instant only. Turning and com- ing swiftly down, he attacked his adversary furiously, while the nearly maddened spec- tators clawed at one another in their frantic fury, for the devil's own beautiful game had begun with a vengeance now. The past was as nothing, the future was as nothing, in the glorious delight of mad 28 Old Margaret. excitement without danger. Nero liad never provided such sport as this for the people. Here were two men of a hated and dreaded order, two of the best swords- men in Europe, fighting for their glory and delectation. Grand sport. "Did you speak to me, sir," said the policeman to Van Kenning. " No," said tlie Alderman; "I was only speaking to my friend the Devil here. Make room for him between us, will you, constable. The Archbishop has got be- tween him and the show." The combatants were quiet again, breath- ins;. No blood had been drawn, which pleased the people much, because they had been afraid lest Van Dysart, a safe killer, would only pink his man ; but before they had time to swear more than a few oaths the two gentlemen were at it once more. Old Margaret. 29 What are all our sports now in com- parison with fencing? AVhy, a University race takes over twenty minutes to row — time enough to make your will. The Derby can be run and won in three minutes. In this short and last embroglio the competitors lived ten lives in twenty seconds. Eye, hand, brain and muscle acted on one another with a rapidity which was only slowly reproduced by the spark like lightning of their swords. In twenty seconds the swords met and parted fifty times. In thirty seconds Van Dysart was wiping his sword on a white handkerchief, and his adversary, with the same fixed attentive look in his face which he had worn all through the fight, was standing erect; then his knees gave way and he fell down stone dead on his face. Then the mob let the Archbishop get to 30 Old Margaret. him, and growled at him because he had not stopped the fight. But the Archbishop cared little, for he was kneeling beside the dead youth, holding a crucifix before his sightless eyes, and whispering in his ear from time to time, " Leon ! Leon !" But Leon happened to be dead, and the Archbishop was a practical man and found it out. The policeman came up to take charge of the body, and the Archbishop asked, "Where was Van Kenning?" Van Ivennino; had <2:one off arm in arm to the Club with Van Dysart. The Archbishop shook his head, but gave the policeman gold. " Take the body to my house ; 1 w^ill go and break the news to them." CHAPTER III. ^ftef HIS incident, as the reader may by this timehave guessed, did not occur durins: the wild fierce time which suc- ceeded the hist war with France, when the lava stream of national ferocity was begin- ning to cool and crust, showing from time to time to incautious steppers the molten metal below. The surroundings were very similar, however, and in writing down the incident the pen naturally ran as though one were describins: an embroirlio of 1820. But the time was about 1400, and the 32 Old Margaret. place was Ghent. Let one hope that con- cealing the fact for a single cliapter has not puzzled the reader. AVe are free now ; the writer only asks that the reader will allow him to make the characters speak as they would now, and act as they do now, and did act then. Perhaps one speclalite of ecclesiastics is their short quick walk. My friend A says that they walk so because they are con- scious that they have nothing to do, and want to look as if they were earning their money. My friend B says that it is in consequence of their having worn long ecclesiastical dresses for so many centuries; a theory which sounds rather Darwinian, although B is an orthodox of the most distinguished. C says that they walk in that manner from their haste after good works, and bend their heads from hu- Old Margaret. 33 mility. D only says that he wishes they would walk like other people. However, they walk so. Why not? Does not a dragoon always walk as though he had his spurs on ? or a groom as though he had a saddle between his legs ? The Archbishop had by no means walked in that manner while he was sauntering: about and looking into the shops ; but now he walked in the ecclesiastical manner, and coming swiftly round the corner on to a little girl about twelve years old ; who care- fully pulled up her outside frock, chose a clean place and knelt down for the archi- €piscopal benediction. It was promptly given in the usual man- ner, after which the girl raised her head and smiled, and the Archbishop said sud- denly, and sharply, " Why, Marie !" He had just seen her brother killed in the VOL. I. 3 34 Old ^[argaret. street, and he was stricken almost dumb. The child was pleased and honoured by seeing him, and rising to her feet reminded hhn that he had promised to bless a little medal for her, and that he had forgotten to do so. She added, tliat she was seeking her brother Leon to come home to his dinner. "He has had his dinner," said the Arch- bishop to her, with a sort of idea that he was not actually lying, because it was pos- sible that Leon might be supping in para- dise, even Avithout the viaticum, having been in the main a most noble and godly youth. " I wish you to come with me, child." " I will follow you, my father," she said; and they walked on. " Life is pleasant to you, child?" "Yes, father; and the Sisters are kind, witli the exception of Sister Priscilla, who Old Margaret. 35 is rough, and who says that I have no heart, not even enough to make my beauty a curse to me." " She should not say such things. I will rebuke her. Turn your face to me." The girl did so. It was a very beautiful face, with great promise of greater beauty for the future. When it was a little older it was painted by the hand of one of the few who loved her, and it hangs on the walls of the Museum at Bruges to this day, one of the gems of European art. " She said the other day," continued the girl, "that the w^oman Martina, who has taken refuge with Margaret, had a better heart than I had." " She should not speak to the child of such things," muttered the Archbishop. " I must speak to Priscilla. My child, do you fear death?" 3—2 36 Old Margaret. " Tlie Sisters say that it is the gate of paradise." " I do not mean for yourself. For an- other? Suppose your brother Leon were to die." "Then my brother Max would have two- thirds of Leon's money, and I should have the other third ; that is, if I married John Van Eyek, which I mean to do." The Archbishop groaned, for none of his theories would lit this case. He decided, however, that he would discuss the matter with Sister Priscilla, instead of scolding her, as he had at first meant ; which was a wise resolution, because Sister Priscilla, in spite of all her religious vows, was not a woman who would take a scolding from the Pope himself, leave alone an Archbishop, if she had persuaded herself that she was in the right, and if none of them could prove her Old Margaret. 37 wrong. She was in continual trouble about her vows of obedience. She was always at one time doing penances set her for the breach of those vows. Her practice was to perform the penances Avith a few additional ones, and then commit the sin over again still more emphatically. She had acquired the character of being a Sister of high merit, but peculiar in one or two ways; given, for example, to persistent and occa- sionally objurgative contradiction. There is no doubt that poor old Father Ambrose begged the Archbishop, on his knees, to be removed from the office of con- fessor to the convent of which she was an ornament, and to be sent upon a mission to the Moors, and that he alleged Sister Pris- cilla to be the cause of his singular request. He was old, he said, and might earn mar- tyrdom among the barbarians, but he could 38 Old Margaret. not stand the eye of Sister Priscilla. He was afraid to put even the most ordinary questions to the nuns, not for an instant mentioning the eleves. The Archbishop released him from his duties, and was foolish enough to send a strong square-headed young Dominican, with the brains of an ele- phant and the physical strength of a bull. Hence arose a fearful scandal. It was said that on his first entrance into the hall of the convent. Sister Priscilla had rushed from the collected nuns, fallen on that young man, and cuflfed and towzled him in a dis- graceful manner. But scandals in religious houses can be always hushed up (except when they do not exist), and so we know nothing of the truth of that matter. In short, in most things it was considered to be inexpedient to meddle with Sister Priscilla; and one great reason was, that Old Margaret. 39 •every one who knew her liked and tho- roughly resjDected her. Ghent, with all its multitudes, was roaring that day, a little more eager and noisy, if not more busy than usual. In a somewhat noisy street the Archbishop paused before a very large house of stone, even then darkened by thne, and beat at a large door with his hand. Towards the street the house was only a vast, nearly windowless facade. In an in- stant the bolt was withdraAvn, the Arch- bishop entered, and the door was slammed behind him, for one w^as never sure in those times whether one quiet man or a couple of thousand lunatics were about to enter. Here was a change. Here was sudden peace, and nearly silence ; for the roar of voices, and the clatter of wooden shoes 40 Old Margaret. over the pavement only came on the Arch- bishop's ear as the moan of the surf round capes and reefs conies to our ear from a hollo tv sea shelL The f]jreat house formed at the back three sides of a quadrangle, adorned with flower beds set in green well-trimmed lawns, and broken by groups of shrubs. The fourth side of the quadrangle was made by a high wall, hidden by shrubs, and overarched with whispering poplars. The Archbishop turned to the little old porter who had let them in, and was say- ing, " Why, Felix, you are as nimble as ever," when he was interrupted by a very quiet, solemn, and clear voice, which said — " This is good of you, Archbishop. Come with me to my garden. I wish to speak to you very much." " Hubert Yan Eyck," said the Arch- Old Margaret. 41 bishop, " I have something very terrible to tell you. Marie, go play." The man whom the world has known ever since, was at that time a not very handsome man, but one with a very gentle and intensely melancholy face. He had reddish hair, which was covered by a pink velvet skullcap, trimmed with ermine, otherwise was dressed very much like some Austrian soldiers of the present day, in a white tunic, in a few places slashed with blue satin, and tight-fitting blue silk hose. Such was the graceful figure which took the arm of the Archbishop and led him into the garden. " I know the news," said Hubert. " I want you to break it to my sister." "I have come to do so. Where is she?" The two turned towards a tall building 42 Old Margaret. whicli formed the left-hand side of the quadrangle. AVhere it rose from the lawn it was a mere sheet of smooth stone, but aloft began to show out into very early pointed work, and just below the roof deve- loped six long pointed windows. It had, in fact, been the refectory of an old conven- tual building, of which the house itself had been a cell. They entered by a low door, and passed up a narrow winding flight of steps, by which probably the superior of the house had in old times mounted to refection, for they came out by a little door on to the dais, now covered with the various lumber of an artist's studio, and of a very rich artist also. The dais was covered with costly velvet and satin robes, armour of price, swords and spears. And just where the light, cautiously admitted from one of Old Margaret. 43 the six tall windows, fell, was a full-sized lay figure of man and horse, in full panoply of damascened steel armour, heavily fringed with green satin. The hall was very dark but for this one light, and another little one far down the hall, for the windows w^ere on one side only, the other blocking out the w^orld with a screen of stone. Looking; from behind the dead horse and its rider, they saw below them an easel at which a woman stood painting. The Archbishop crossed himself " She is painting Leon's armour," he whispered. " This is terrible." "I borrowed it for her yesterday," said Hubert, also in a whisper. The Archbishop stepped lightly down from the dais towards her. She was not a beautiful woman, none of her family were 44 Old Margaret. beautiful. The Ibreliead was strained and over large, and the skin upon it was tense. Her features were what is called regular; the eye was of dark hazel, with the concen- tration of an artist in it ; and the mouth had the pout which an artist frequently gets by the habit of contemplating parti- cular points carefully and steadily for a long time together; her figure, tliough not tall, was majestic, very well held up with a full fine bust. Her hair was closely braided in front of the cap of the time, which spread right and left of her head in two semicircles. Her dress, closed up to the throat, was as close as a lady's riding habit, laced over the bosom with long laces, and falling straight from her hips in long folds; its tissue was green satin, or its equivalent in those times. She was stand- ing with her right foot advanced, which Old Margaret. 45 she was at that moment tapping with her mahlstick, reminding the Archbishop ter- ribly of the action of Van Dysart's sword an hour before. In her left hand she held her palette and her sheaf of brushes. So stood, and now stands to some of us, Mar- garet Van Eyek. " Margaret !" said the Archbishop. " My Lord !" she said, quietly, with a brightened face. " I am come to see you." " Mind your way, my Lord ; step cautiously over that helmet. That is right. Now, what brings you here ?" " Put aside your brushes, my child." " Not L I can talk while I am paint- ing. I am painting Leon's armour. I can call him Leon now, good Lord, for the words have been spoken, and he is to marry me." 46 Old Margaret. "Margaret, listen! You will never marry liini." " Has Van Dysart killed him ?" " Yes." " I tliou2:lit it would be so. Please be very silent. If my little bird were to sing now, I would kill it." And she went on painting. The Archbishop had in his vocation of priest seen women in most phases of pas- sion and anger. Indeed he had got (having been confessor to some dozen convents) so used to scenes with women, that he had got as much used to them as a doctor; but here he was fairly terrified. The woman not only would not speak herself, but would not let him speak. Once more he said, "Margaret!" but she looked at him so terribly that he forbore. He only said, " May I wait here till you will speak to Old Margaret. A7 me?" and she said, ''Yes;" that was all she said, and went on painting. So the Archbishop sat down on one of the faldstools, which they had there for religions paintings, and watched her. After a few feeble daubs at her work, she put her tackle on one side, and lay down on a bench, with her arms over her head, and her face turned from him, moaning from time to time. " She will cry soon," said the Arch- bishop, from his experience, " and then she will remember her religion." "What is the matter?" said a hoarse voice, like that of a sixteen-year-old boy, in his ear. " Leon has been killed by Van Dysart," said the Archbishop, " and I have told her of it." " Hum," said the voice. " A nice youth 48 Old Margaret. too. Perhaps the other one will do now." " I do not understand you," said he. " Had you not better see to her." "No; leave her alone," said Sister Pris- cilla. " When she wants me she Avill call for me. Let us stay here quiet. She will be like a boar of Ardennes in five minutes, if I know her. She and I have vexed our righteous souls in this hideous city of the plain until we are both half mad. Why God does not destroy Ghent is wonder to me." "Indeed," said the Archbishop, "it needs prayer and fasting." " There is plenty of praying ; it is this fasting which is w^anted," said Sister Pris- cilla. "It is for you to fix tlic balance, not a poor nun like me. AVho are those at the lower end of the hall, and where is Hubert?" Old Margaret. 49 " That is Hubert at the lower end of the hall," said he. " And there is a man be- hind him. They are going to tell John." John Van Eyek was sitting far lower down the hall, in a partially lighted window, copying some older painting than his brother's. The Archbishop and Sister Priscilla saw two figures approach him and tell him the news. They saw the boy — for he was little more — drop his paint- ing tackle and cover his eyes with his hands, and then they saw the two older gentlemen coming slowly up to where they sat. " They are coming," said Sister Priscilla. " I must rouse her. He will catch it." " Hubert ?" "No, the other. Margaret, get up; here is your brother Hubert and another gentleman." VOL. I. 4 50 Old Margaret. Margaret roused herself, looked about for lier painting things, and not seeing them, looked about her rather wildly. The sight of her brother seemed to restore her, but the group soon found that she was not looking at him but at the man behind him. When she saw him she stood erect and bold, and called to him by name. Every one present prepared for a scene, but for no such scene as followed. The Archbishop and Hubert hoped that she would have cried. Sister Priscilla hoped she would have scolded. She deceived them all. She said quietly and sternly — " Burgundy, stand forth from behind my brother's shoulder and answer." " Before what court. Madam ?" "Before the court of an injured woman. More kings have lost their lives, my Lord, Old Margaret. 51 in that court than in any other. A sedi- tious mob may be cut down, Duke, but even if you kill an injured woman her wrongs live after her and plague you for generations. Come before my court, my Lord Duke of Burgundy !" Burgundy stood there before her, look- ing shamefaced and abashed, as dissi- pated men do look before women. His hair, cut short across low over his forehead gave him a somewhat silly appearance ; his bad complexion, and the working of a rather ugly mouth, did not much improve him; and he had shoved his black and gold velvet bonnet on to the back of his head, which made him look nearly idio- tic. If one could see that face in pro- file, which one cannot, one would find power in it. The Duke of Burgundy, as he stood before Margaret Van Eyck 4— a 52 Old Margaret. that day, looked like a guilty fool, and he was neither, at least as politics went in those days. Certainly Louis XYI. was executed for less, but times have changed. The Duke of Burgundy stood abashed before her anger. "What would you have me do?" he said. And she replied — " I want you to prove yourself a Duke — to do justice to yourself." "But how, and for what? Count Leon was killed in fair duel." '•Fair? yes. But listen to the whole story. I plead as an infuriated woman before my Sovereign. I have had three lovers — Van Kenning, Van Dysart, and Leon. " I cannot tell you why I did not marry Van Kenning; perhaps he was too old. But Old Afargaret. 53 I can tell you why I did not marry Van Dysart : — because he ruined and cast to the dogs — to the dogs of the gutter — a woman with elements of good in her far greater than he ever had; and because I always hated him, Duke. He has avenged my hatred this unhappy day." No one spoke. She went on : " Leon I would have had, a noble youth, my Lord Duke — a noble youth." " But what can I do ?" "I want justice, vengeance on the mur- derer of Leon." " But it was not a murder. The man also is in good repute, both with courtier and workman. He is one of the shrewdest and most valuable counsellors I have. The Archbishop himself saw the duel; it was perfectly fair, was it not, sir?" " Perfectly," said the Archbishop. 54 Old Margaret. " It is a lie," snarled Sister Priscilla, in a voice which made them all start. " I think not," said the Archbishop, very meekly. " I think it was a very fair duel indeed. Most pretty fencing from first to last." *' And you call yourself a priest !" cried Priscilla. " Certainly, Sister ; and consequently speak the truth about what I have seen, without regarding any of your idiotic and impudent declamations about things which you have not seen. It was a perfectly fair duel." "Well then, you see, Marguerite Van Eyck, I can do nothing. Hubert, what can I do?" " You can do nothing whatever, Duke. I might fight him, but I should only get killed. I see no use in it ; do you, sister Marcraret?" Old Margaret. 55 " No, leave liim alone," she said, wearily. " You are all against me, sir." And they went, without one word of fur- ther protest from Sister Priscilla, which was odd, for her heart was in this matter. But that exceedingly shrewd woman had per- ceived that there was some set purpose be- tween the three men, from seeing their eyes meet. She hoisted herself into a high window, and saw the three go away toge- ther, with heads bent to her across the grass plot ; and when she saw that she said, " God help Van Dysart, with those three against him — a priest, a rogue, and a genius." After which remarkable senti- ment she came down and saw to poor Mar- garet. CHAPTER IV. HESE three strange heads, those of Hubert Van Eyck, ^»^ the Duke of Burgundy, and the Archbishop of Ghent, were indeed close together, in very keen discussion indeed. " Gentlemen," said the Duke, " let yours then be the open opposition ; but remember always that I am assisting you, even when you see me smile upon him. The time may be long, and my hand may never be seen, but the end will come. Good morn- ino;. We shall not in future be so familiar as we were. >> Old Margaret. 57 The Duke went between the flower-beds towards the wall wdiich formed the fourth side of the square, and passing through the shrubs, opened a postern gate and came suddenly on a narrow canal overhung with windowless buildings. A barge lay a little way up, with a closely-drawn awning be- hind, rowed by four young men, chosen apparently for their good looks and their impenetrable stupidity, and steered by a very old man who had the expression of having seen a great deal. I should not like, had I been the Duke's enemy, to have been with them in that barge on a dark night in a lonely place, A watchful face was peering from the awning as he stepped in. It was Van Ken- ning's. " Well, my Lord Duke, and what said she ?" 58 Old Margaret. " She has demanded vengeance." Not another word was said. At a sign from the Duke the men gave way, and going a httle way along the canal, pulled up at some steps which rose from the water to a postern in the wall. Van Kenning stepped lightly ashore, gave a glance round, and disappeared in the doorway. The Duke's young men gave way once more, and soon every ripple had died away upon the sur- face of the canal. But the Archbishop and Hubert walked up and down among the flower-beds, and during their walk they came upon a pretty sight which made them pause and withdraw silently. Seated on the grass was young John Van Eyck, then about eighteen, in all the hey- day of youth and line clothes, and on his shoulder lay the beautiful head of Marie. Old Margaret. 59 She had been crying, but was quiet now and playing with a flower he had given her. " He has told her and has comforted her," said Hubert. " That is not a very difficult thing to do, my son," quoth the Archbishop. Hubert only sighed, and they walked quietly away. Ci^ CHAPTEE V. W^^^M N the best corner of the best public room in a very large and elegant tavern sat Van Dysart, wondering what he would do with himself. Had he known everything he might have spared himself the trouble of thinking about that matter, for some others had taken his life in their hands. The man thought him- self a gay and independent bachelor Poor fool! The world was well with him: he was rich, handsome, young, well-dressed, of Old Margaret. Gl good health and great personal strength and courage. Politically, also, he had great power. He was the bully of the Court and the representative of the work- ing classes there. He laughed as he thought, " I am the most dangerous man in Ghent." That was very true ; but at the same time, dangerous men in Ghent, about the year IdOO, were extremely apt to be unlucky. Advanced Whiggery was tolerated at Court — nay, even flattered and caressed, yet the caresses of that particular Duke of Burgundy were apt to be like certain precious oils which broke the recipient's head. Lying there, a blaze of blue and scarlet satin, he pondered on what excitement there might be afloat, or who would drop in that morning. He might have saved himself the trouble quite well. There 62 Old Margaret. was amusement enough in store for lum. Two voices, in rather more than friendly argument, were beginning to make them- selves heard as they drew nearer to the room. One he knew, the other speaking in a foreign accent puzzled him. " I am not a disputant either at back- gammon or cards, neither am I a fighting man, Signor Spada, but I must take the liberty of telling you once more that you threw six ace from your ace-point and moved two points into your second table. Van Dysart lay listening like a cat. That ill-tempered old cur Van Kenning was accusing the terrible Spada of Bologna, best swordsman of the day, of cheating. By this time they were in the room. "Sir," said the low growling voice of the Italian, "I have denied the fact once before. I moved six ace." Old Margaret. 63 " You did not," said Van Kenning. "Sir," said the Italian, "are you ready to fight?" "Not with a man of your reputation," said Van Kenning, coolly. " What do you mean by that, sir?" " I mean with a man of your reputation as a swordsman." The Italian growled, and threw his sword upon the table with a sniff. Van Kenning did not seem to be in the least disturbed, and the pair stood silent. Van Kenning drumming on the table with his knuckles. Van Dysart was immensely interested. This w^as Count Spada of Bologna, the bravest man and the most ^consummate scoundrel in Europe without any known exception. Van Dysart had heard of his arrival at Ghent, and was dying to make 64 Old Margaret. his acquaintance: of course that old I'ool Van Kenning had picked him up first, and might have put him aux mieux ^vith the Duke had it not been for the quarrcL Van Dysart looked at liis man. A middle-sized bull-necked Italian of about thirty, dressed in white with crimson slashes, with a scarlet bonnet and an ostrich plume of the same colour coming down over his left shoulder ; a bullet-headed man, with an eye like polished jet and a beard like closely packed black horsehair, elasticity and vigour in his carriage, and a good- humoured rascality in every line of his face, — such was the terrible Spada of Bologna. " Two and two do not make five. Count," said Van Kenning; "neither do six-ace make seven." " By St. Christopher and his holy coat, sir," said Spada, who although devoutly Old Margaret. G5 religious after each of his murders, was not up in details, "if I had a friend in the town, which I have not, you should answer for that language with your life." " Very good, sir," said Van Kenning. " You threw six ace, and played seven." Of course there was nothing for Van Dysart to do but to rise and interfere. The blue and scarlet apparition arose from the sofa, to the great astonishment of Count Spada, who snatched up his sword, and re- treating towards the door confronted his new adversary with a haughty bow. " My dear Van Kenning," said Van Dy- sart, "may I ask what is wrong between you two?" " He threw six ace and played seven," said Van Kenning, emphatically drumming on the table. Spada stood erect, a column of unpro- VOL. I. 5 66 Old Margaret. tected innocence, without a friend in the town. " Oh, but come, old Van Kenning, you think he did." " I know he did." Spada's muscles were as stiff as bone ; he tapped his sword-hilt. " Not one friend to back Spada of Bologna," he said, in a low melancholy voice. " If Van Dysart the swordsman could be found, he would not see me wronged thus, for we have heard of one another." Had Van Dysart looked at Van Kenning's face instead of looking at Spada with a face of silly vanity at the compliment, he would have seen a look of utter wonder in Van Kenning's eyes. The unutterable impu- dence and dexterity of the Italian's last speech was too much for him, for he had Old Margaret. 67 just been spending what lie thought wasted time in trying to teach him Van Dysart's name. " I am that Van Dysart," cried out that gentleman. " Let me have the pleasure of making my rival's acquaintance." The Italian took off his bonnet, and sa- luted courteously. " You will then doubtless act for me in this matter. Coming an utter stranger into this town, and playing the game of tables with this gentleman (a game we play little in Italy), I am accused of cheating. There is, of course, but one way out of such an affair." " Oh, nonsense!" said Van Dysart. "No one minds old Van Kenning. He is a non- combatant." " In Ttaly," said Spada, "non-combatants keep their tongues between their teeth. If 6—2 68 Old Margaret. you think my honour acquitted, Van Dysart, I am content." "Could any one question yours? Non- sense, my dear Count. A swordsman like you would only make himself ridiculous by an encounter with Van Kenning. Is it not so, my prince of good fellows?" " I suppose so," said Van Kenning; " but he threw six ace and played six deuce for all that. You are going to take up with him, Van Dysart, I see that. Now in any- thing which follows from your acquaint- ance with him, never you have the im- pudence to say that I did not warn you of him." And so he turned and went, leaving them both staring. " A singular man," said the Italian, laughing. ' A very singular man," said Van Dysart. Old Margaret. 69 " He and I proposed to ourselves at one and the same time the honour of alliance with the same young lady. She had the good sense to save me the trouble of put- ting my sword through him by refusing him. Since then I have liked the fel- low." " But he does not %ht," said the Italian. " No ; but we have learnt something from Italian civilization, and one of my grooms carries a knife. You understand." " Oh, perfectly," said Count Spada. And, to do him justice, he spoke the truth for once. "Will you drink?" said Van Dysart. "A hogshead, if you like." "Will you play?" "Till morning, if it suits you. I am just now very rich, and shall never be com- fortable until I have lost all my money." 70 Old Margaret. " You are a good comrade." " I am reputed so. J\Iy sword is rather rusty. Do you ever have an embroglio in the streets here ? I should like a fight be- fore we beirun." " I am tlie worst man in the Avorld to come to just now. I killed a man in the street only three weeks ago, and my clients Avould not stand another. They have been disagreeable about him." "Your clients?" " I mean the working men." "Ho!" said Spada. "And what was the young gentleman's name who got him- self killed?" " Well," said Van Dysart, " it was rather an ugly business. Let us have some Bur- gundy." " I want Burgundy, at least the Duke of that name, most particularly," said Spada; Old Margaret. 71 " and I mean that you should present me to him. But a gallon of the wine mean- while, if you please." They had drank two or three drafts — a modern j)int of that noblest of wines — be- fore Spada spoke again. " Now about the young Count Leon. Was it a good rattle ? Did he come rat- tling down on the back of his head, like a gentleman, or did he fall towards you and break your best sword, as that best and j oiliest of companions, Nicolo of Padua, did with me when I killed him? I was very sorry for that business, for I loved the man ; but we both wanted the same thing, and what would you? By the organ of St. Agnes! I shed positive tears, sir, when I saw my beautiful Andrea Ferrara broken in half." Van Kenning said once, that Providence 72 Old Margaret. intended to spare this man by showing him a caricature of his own cruelty. " 1 will tell you about it," said Van Dy- sart, a little sulkily. " I suspected him of telling tales to my detriment in a certain quarter, and I said openly that I should kill him. I was utterly wrong. He behaved most honourably, although he supplanted me. The mischief was done by a nun, one Priscilla. Since 1 killed him, I have had a letter which proves it. I have it here." " So you killed the wrong man T' " It seems so." "Yet he was a rival ?" " It is true; but I was not very keen on the scent." "Ha! You are cold-blooded, you Fle- mings. You are ill, and unfit for play. Let us drink some more, and then take me to the Duke's court." Old Margaret 73 " Good ; I will go comb my hair. Do tlie Italian gallants wear their hair in your fashion now ?" Spada said that it Avas the latest fashion. He might have added, among soldiers of fortune and maitres d'annes, but did not. Van Dysart went away to comb his hair. "When he was gone Spada looked puz- zled. ^' There seems to be a soft place in the man; they told me there was none." Van Dysart came back, and having ad- justed their swords, they walked away through the streets towards the palace. It was evening, and the w^orkmen were abroad sitting almost in thousands in front of their houses. Van Dysart seemed al- most ostentatiously to choose the streets which were most frequented by them. Many of them greeted him warmly, most looked kindly at him. It might seem at 74 Old Margaret. first strange that a young nobleman, known as a dicer and duellist and worse, should have power with them, as he undoubtedly had ; but in any dispute he had always been on their side, and as for his amours, they had never been among their order. And his strength and splendid physical courage rendered him admirable to a great extent among a people who lived by their strength, dearly loved fighting, and who were as brave as their ancestors. Why, in the last half century England and America have both sent prizefighters to Parliament. And this man had infinitely more brains and mental training than Gully or Heenan. Besides, wdiy or wherefore does not matter just now, this man w^as very chari- table. In spite of the Gilden there was often sharp distress, and this man's hand was always open. He had a good heart, said Old Margaret. 75 thev, and would cure himself of his follies, which after all were only those of his order. A popular man most undoubtedly. Had he not been lazy and vicious he might have been a rival to Van Kenning. But the working hands could only be fairly led by Van Kenning, whose good word was always for Van Dysart. " So your role is to lead the rabble," said Spada, as they walked along. " Yes," said Van Dysart, with a sneer. " And not a bad one. You shall see the reception at Court directly of the man who could burn the Duke's palace about his ears in an hour." "The people are but little understood and not very well treated," said Spada, with a degree of honest emphasis, for his father had been an armourer or blacksmith, and he himself had been chosen as page 76 Old Margaret. for his beauty, and had risen to the posi- tion of Mameluke for his fiendish, careless courage, which his amazing physical vita- lity had saved from being spoiled by vice. In fact, like many another healthy pirate, he rather disliked vice, as interfering with business. " Of that I know nothing and care less," said Van Dysart. " I want power, and I get it through them. That is all." " You have no sentimental feelings about the preservation of your order, then?" asked Spada. " None whatever. All said and done, man, they are worse scoundrels than the workmen. I do not believe that there stands in this street a greater rascal than the Duke." " You mean the Duke of Ferrara ?" *'Yes, of course; the Duke of Ferrara. Old Margaret. 77 Hah! hah! You might have thought I meant the Duke of Burgundy." "Not I. I agree with you about the Duke of Ferrara. He owes me money. Is he a good paymaster?" "Yes; for dirty work. I never heard of a man asking for credit of his chimney- sweep." Spada sung a little Provencal song, and sang it very prettily too. It was indis- creet, looking at the task in hand, but — he couldn't help it. " Ci git Abelard, Ci git il ; Parcequ' il croyait, Ce que tout a dit." " Quem deus vult perdere." They came to the door of the palace and went in. Was there ever such a Court before or since? One fancies a great many. But 78 Old Margaret Ghent at that time was exceptional, by all accounts. There have been more drunken courts — that of James I. of England, let us say. There have been more extravagantly dressed courts — (that of Venice in 1200). There have been more riotous courts. There have been more ferocious courts ; but there have been very few which equalled for combined riot, fury, sump- tuary extravagance and general dissipation that of Ghent in those times. The whole of the entrance-hall and the great stone staircase were crowded by cour- tiers in all kinds of fantastic dresses. Yan Dysart and Spada pushed their way through all this, up the stairs and into the hall of reception. Here matters were de- cent. There were chamberlains and officers around the Duke, who ceased speaking as Old Margaret. 79 the two splendid young dandies advanced up the room. The Duke looked with keen interest at the two new comers, more particularly at Count Spada. He seemed greatly satisfied. " I have to ask leave to present to you Count Spada of Bologna, Duke." "I receive Count Spada with all good will and honour," said the Duke. " You will sup with me to-night, you two. Do you make a long stay, Count Spada?" " Who can say, Duke of Burgundy? I suppose until I have diced away my money, or have killed a man in a brawl, or done something else which will make me fly your Court. Few courts keep me long. I am better known than trusted. Dicinsr and brawling are the elements in which I live." " Faith, then you will do here," said the 80 Old Margaret. Duke, with a sneer. " AVelcome to Pan- demonium, thou fallen angel. I think that, take us all in all, we are the worst set of scoundrels in all Europe. What says Van Dysart, mine enemy?" " Your Highness's very good friend," said Van Dysart. " True, true," said the Duke. "There are none virtuous but you and I. Our virtue rusts at times, but it is there. Count Spada, you are welcome." CHAPTER VI. HE -winter came down, the dykes and canals were frozen, and the snow brought new hght and beauty to Ghent, and new misery to the lower part of the working population. There was no good organization of charity in those days, though perhaps as much of it as there is now. Immense doles were some- times given, but they were ill administered. The Gilden, one is told, took as good care of their broken-down members as do the trades unions and benefit societies of to-day, all VOL. I. 6 82 Old Margaret. honour to them. Tliere was but small po- verty among them. It was among the class lower than them, among the hewers of wood and drawers of water, the horse-holders and the innumerable ministers to the summer's luxury, in which the f^reat distress was. Also great numbers of the lower agricul- tural population, who had gained a scanty subsistence in the country during summer, returned in winter to die warm instead of cold. It was among these classes that the work of the religious bodies lay. And they did their best possible, notwith- standing occasional squabbles among one another, and a great deal of mismanage- ment and ignorance (we are not free from that yet). Great charities had then, as now, been diverted from their first inten- tion, and had some of them, instead of (as now) being put into commission, been. Old Margaret. 83 swallowed by the esurient house of Bur- gundy for their sins, to the never-ending exasperation of Father Peter and his bosom friend, Sister Priscilla, who were always going to write to Eome about these things, but who never had time. Father Peter was a secular clergyman of extremely advanced radical views, like his coadjutor, Sister Priscilla. These two worthy democrats between them led the good Arch- bishop the deuce of a life. They were always urging him to write to Kome for them, and he was always pointing out to them that it would be certain ruin to all three to do so. As for those two, they w^ould have walked barefooted to Rome, and denounced the great and awful house of Burgundy before that most terrible of tri- bunals. It was a cold day, and all the architecture 6—?. 84 Old Margaret. was marked by lines of silver snow upon its frettings, when Sister Priscilla and Father Peter met at a windy street corner, and refreshed themselves with a little sedi- tion. " A plague on Dukes, /say," began Sister Priscilla, " I am sick and stupid with Dukes; and what do we want here with Dukes of Burgundy? I wish he would go back there, and then honest folks might lead decent lives." " It is good for trade," said Priest Peter, whose nose was blue with cold, who was fasting, who had unwittingly lost a paper containing a handsome list of masses, which had been farmed out to him, and in con- sequence the money for them; which was part of his miserable income : so he was fractious and impracticable. "Why ?" said Sister Priscilla. Old Margaret. 85 "Why?" snapped Priest Peter; "you may well say why ?" " Then I vriW say it again," said Sister Priscilla, and did so. Whereupon Priest Peter, well knowing her powers of itera- tion, asked her suddenly which way she was walking. She on her part answered him after her usual manner, that is to say, by keeping to her subject until she had made an end of it. " Trade ! and you a Christian priest ! Trade ! Devil's trade ! Trade ! I wish he would trade away to Paris again. We Flemings were honest until these Burgundians with their scum of Paris and scum of Italy came and polluted us. As far as a Christian may curse, I curse the worthless house of Bur- gundy." " Thanks, sweet nun," said a clear, sharp voice behind her. " I will remember you 86 Old Margaret. in my prayers the next time I do not forget to say them. Philip, of that accursed house of Burgundy, would be glad for a direction to the Judenstrasse." Peter the Priest slunk away appalled. While he had been arguing with Sister Priscilla a large procession had approached them over the silent snow unheard; that procession now stood silent in the bright white street, so fantastically strange and beautiful, that he paused in his terror to look on the splendid picture. Contrasted with the white snow were a gaudily-dressed group of nobles and cour- tiers, perhaps numbering some twenty, grouped with unstudied elegance. When I say that they were gaudily dressed, I simply mean to use that word in its old sense, for their clothes were selected with that in- stinct for pure colour which we lack now, Old Margaret. 87 and for wliicli our best artists are returning, as it were humbly and on their knees, to learn of the ,men of olden time. The eiFect to the eye was that of a number of the best and most tenderly coloured butter- flies, say purple emperors and Camberwell beauties, on a ground of surrounding snow. €rimson passed into purple, and purple into bright cold sharp blue; maroon declined into brown, and then was lit up with pure primrose yellow, and amidst it all was the gleam of gold every^vhere, and the firelike flash of jewels. The slight motion which they allowed themselves Avas merely marked by the motion of the plumes in their bon- nets, that head-dress which all nations have abandoned save the Scotch. Otherwise the magnificent bevy of beautifully-dressed feu- dalists was still in amused expectation. Further away in the snow the Priest could 88 Old Margaret. see a file of grey steel-clad guards, solemn, inexorable, with thought and responsibility crushed out by routine ; behind again, tlie dim-coloured mob, each man of which was- a world to himself, save for a few days in each year, when the privileges of his order were in danger, and he rose, fought, and died as bravely as the best courtier among them all. Priest Peter stood entranced. Radical and ecclesiastic as he was, he would have made his picture of showily-dressed eccle- siastics, and an entourage of dimly-coloured poor, who should follow the ecclesiastics, and do their bidding humbly. But it was not so : there were the courtiers in all their beauty, grace of movement, power of action^ perfection of cultivated colour; behind them grey inexorable guards ; behind the guards the people, gazing as near as they Old Margaret. 89 dared at the men who were eating their hearts, yet ready to swarm on them at any moment, and hunt them like wild beasts, and who had, in fact, done so before, and were to do so again, as it were fruitlessly, until the dull thunder of Drake's cannon came booming upon the ear of Parma, and the uncertain dawn of freedom began to grow into certain glorious day, and the ro- mantic art which these nobles represented, to cease upon the world of nature. Priest Peter, hating it all, still admired : his eye had been educated ecclesiastically, and had taught him what colour was ; and, moreover, a man gets his purest and most delicate ideas of colour from the half-toned dresses of the poor. Yet after a minute of admiration for the courtiers, and a glimpse of thought about the political situation which the spectacle showed him, his atten- 90 Old Margaret. tion was entirely absorbed by the group of three, which was in advance of the courtier group, and nearest to him, the group from which he had seceded. Sister Priscilla, coal black, with her legs planted in a determined manner into the snow. Philip of Burgundy, afterwards Philippe le Bon — a pale youth, of great physical power but loosely built, dressed in violet velvet with crimson hose, not as you see him now, but brighter and younger, with a sense of humour about that great mouth of his, which we look in vain for afterwards. John Van Eyck, his alter ego, who was to become his love confidant, the wooer of his bride, — to play Buckingham to his Charles Stuart, — to leave Margaret and Hubert and to follow his darling prince, — to leave the people for the Court, — to leave Old Margaret. 91 his wife to the lottery, his daughter to the nunnery — and yet, though degenerated from his greater brother, to keep his art pure and undefiled through it all: raising our souls nigh heaven, while he must have been dragging his own near hell. An old story this of the handsome youth who stood by young Philip of Burgundy in the snow, dressed in puce satin slashed with crimson. An old old story. The priests insist to one that the merits of the ordinances are not retracted by the unworthiness of the minis- trant: may it be so in art? One who was a courtier, and no more, could not have painted the four kneeling angels. " Nun, nun," said young Philip of Bur- gundy, " you were cursing our house. What prevents me from delivering you over to justice, and having you fried?" Sister Priscilla sniffed, and pointed right 92 Old Margaret over his head at the dull-coloured swarming mob behind the guards. " Precisely," said Philip. " John Van Eyck, my beloved, this woman is a woman of vast penetration. Van Janssen !" A courtier stepped up at once. " Catch me that lurking priest, will you ? bring him here, and call up a file of the guards and walk him off to prison." Priest Peter was at once brought back, five guards were put in possession of his person, and Philip gave them the order to take liim to the gaol in the Place. " Which way, Sire?" asked the cour- tier. " Which way, fool ? There is but one ; back that way, right through the mob, to be sure." And Priest Peter wdth five guards was inarched solemnly through the swarming Old Margaret. 93 workmen, Philip of Burli his ribs. One leo- hung down beside the bedstead, the other 12—2 180 Old Margaret. lay under liiui. There lay the man on the bed in the magnificence of his beauty, with- out his clothes, without even his very shirt, for Spada had taken care of that detail. Beside the bed, writing at a desk, sat tlie inexorable Spada, with the naked man's clothes beside him, making precis of every letter in every pocket. The naked man never moved; and as Spada went on at his awful precis work, he began to get into his head that he was doing a rather awful business. For every letter which he got hold of for the Duke of Burgundy meant death, or worse than death. Van Dysart, sleeping naked on the bed, was pledged by these letters to a course of politics Avhicli we can only describe as being milder than Feni- anism. From the letters which Spada got and put in precis. Van Dysart's ruin was Old Margaret. 181 perfectly safe. Spada had been hired b}' the Duke of Burgundy to effect Van Dysart's ruin, and by getting the man drunk, and putting him to bed naked, he had his business well in hand. There was enough in the poor young man's pockets to condemn him seven times over. He was a political fool, whereas Philip of Burgundy had brains. It was a mere case of Whio: against Prince, and we shall see who won. CHAPTER XIV. ^f^^i^^ HE case ao;ainst Van Dysart {%^d ^^[4) was utterly and entirely iW: %^*^ hopeless. The quarrel be- tween the house of Bur- gundy and the Gilden was at that time a very heavy one, and the mercy of the house of Burgundy was very small. Spada had done much dirty work in his life, and really did not consider this jol) a peculiarly dirty one: he was hired to do it; and his man was stripped and drunk on the bed — yet the rascal hesitated. The rascal felt pity, the man Avas so utterly at his mercy : Spada Old Margaret. 183 had needed mercy more than once, and he felt pity now. From every pocket came the damning- documents. Van Dysart had been elected as "head centre" to every revolutionary society in Belgium. His Honour Beales, M.A., Professor Beesley, and Mr. Brad- laugh, were distinctly objected to in cer- tain quarters in our own day; but Van Dysart had gone before any of them by hundreds of miles. To talk Reform in those days was death by the hand of Bur- gundy. Spada turned towards the bed; the great white chest was quietly heaving now, and Spada said, " I think I can save you, lad, I think you stand well with the priests; but T do what I am paid to do. I will ruin you, but I will try for your life. Ravenna was a nasty hole, but these Flemings are dirtier dogs than we 184 Old Margaret. and have not our irenius. I shall ^o to Paris." And he went on with his work, putting back the papers of the drunken man just as- he found them into the pockets of his clothes — exactly as he found them. " No one," he said to himself " ever trusted one person with a conspiracy. I am too no- torious a scoundrel. This fellow is an a^vful scoundrel, but I think I can save his- head. I have a fellow-feeling for him." Precis Number Five : " Van Dysart has been elected head manager of the Wool- combers' trade association." Number Six: " has accepted that office with many con- gratulations." That would be enough to- damn a penniless dog like me, but I will get him through all this. Burgundy is afraid of him, and the priests are for Re- form. I will go to the mad priest Peter — Old Margaret. 185 or, no, I will speak to Van Kenning. I will think what I will do. Quiet. Let me think." Van Dysart had moved on the bed while Spada was busy with his papers. This was very dangerous, but Spada was up to the occasion. " You fool," he said, " why can't you take your drink like a man? You are lying stark naked there after having fought me about putting you between the blan- kets." "Where are my clothes?" said Van Dysart. "Just where I threw them down when I stripped you," said Spada. " Give me my shirt," said Van Dysart. Spada gave it to him at once, but his eyes were starting out of his head. He had enough to ruin the man already, and 186 Old Margaret. did not care. It is probable that he would never have thoiifjht of lookin": at the man's shirt at all if he had not asked for it. He, however, o-ave Van Dvsart his shirt at once, and Van Dysart rolled over on to.it, keeping it under his breast. Spada knew that there was something left which he must know, and he puzzled how to get it. He knew that the liquor would die out of the man soon, and that he would become keenly sensible and fractious. There was wine in the room, and looking at it he took his course. He filled a large glass with white Burgundy, and approached the sleeper; knowing that white Burgundy is one of the most dangerous wines in exis- tence, he Avent to the bedside of the sleeping man, and slopped some of it over his head. "AVhat is the matter now?" said the crapulous Van Dysart. Old 3 fa rga ret. 187 " I have been sitting up drinking, and I have got drunk," said Spada. '' I am com- ing to bed." " Well, go to your own bed, and don't eome plaguing here," said Van Dysart. " How dare you come into bed with a gen- tleman ?" " I want to sleep somewhere. Manners are different in different countries. Have some of this." Yan Dysart raised himself up and drank a, draught of the white Burgundy, and then he went to sleep again, but without his shirt. Late at night Spada thought he might be cold, so he put his shirt back and put a blanket over him. When A^an Dysart woke in the morning and cried for Cicely Hacket, he found his shirt where he had put it, and found a blanket over him. He asked Cicely Hacket 188 Old Margaret. if she had put the blanket over him, but she repudiated the idea with scorn, and said that the Italian gentleman must have done it, she supposed. Van Dysart was obliged to confess to himself that it was very civil on the part of Spada. CHAPTER XV. '^^ T was certainly cool on the &® part of Spada to make Van fl^^. Dysart driinl-:, and to make a precis of his papers for the inspection of the Duke cf Burgundy and John Van Eyck. Spada said to him- self that he would save the man as a brother rascal. Spada thought that the man was merely associated with the Radi- cals, as many priests were; indeed, to tell the whole truth, as most priests were. Spada thought that this man, Van Dysart, whom he had been set to ruin, would be 190 Old Margard. imprisoned for a few years, and then set free for further, and to him congenial ras- calities. He thought that he couki save his head until he got hold of his shirt, and when he saw what the man carried in the bosom of his shirt, tied up in a sealskin cover, he was fairly puzzled as to the means for saving his brother rascal. If Van Dysart had gone honestly among the Avorldng class, he might have got through with his head on his shoulders. If he had gone in with the secular clergy, who were then, as they have generally been, on the side of the people, he might have done well. But he was a man wlio would do nothing, and take no side heartil}\ AVhat Spada found in the bosom of his shirt was an acknowledo-ment of the fact tliat he was the seducer of ]\lartiiin, wliicii would put him all wrong with the workmen ; and Old Margaret. 191 next, liis certificate as one of the lUuiiiinati, which would utterly ruin him with the priests. It seemed utterly impossible for him to save the man now. Spada was a dog and a bully, but he was paid, and he must earn his money. It seemed to him that he could have saved his man, if his man had left any loophole. But his man was drunk on the bed ; and Spada must give an account to the Duke that night. He wanted to save his.man, for scoundrels and convicts have a fellow-feeling; and he was thinking in the street of what he should do. He was in a fearful temper, and a little grey dog began leaping on him. He kicked and cursed that little grey dog, and then he saw that the three aAvful figures sitting in a doorway close to him were the proprietors, or at least the abettors, of that little dog. 192 Old Margaret. The person who sat nearest to him had lace over her head, but no gaiidry. Next to her sat a regular priest in grey, with his head uncovered ; beyond him was a nun in black, of secular order, dark as death. We are unable to say what Spada said. We will produce it in our own way. " Lo- rette. Monk, and Nun. After that, the Devil." The Italian buliy was afraid of these three; he wished that he had not kicked their dog. He has regretted the kicking of that little dog since. If you want to kick a dog, don't kick a Scotch do"" to begin with. And whatever you do, do not kick a dog backed up as this dog was. The priest spoke first. " Here," he said, ^' is the man of blood." Spada said, " My good sir, my good sir." Father Peter, having absolutely nothing Old Marga ret. 193 practicable against Spada, went through the process, which I beheve is called de pre- ciser voire accuf^aiion — that is to say, he called him a " man of blood" once more. Sister Priscilla was not going to have her wicket bowled down like this. She wanted to know why he had kicked their dog. Spada instantly explained that it was not their dog at all. It was the dog of Fraulein Macdonald, if it was any one's dog. He (Spada) had an objection to law on many grounds. He had been bothered by the law himself. If there was any law about the dog, it was Fraulein Macdon aid's dog. " I am Lady Van Dysart," said the un- happy Martina. "The day you prove yourself so, Fraulein Macdonald, I will be glad. Why are you sitting there in such company?" VOL. I. 13 194 Old Margaret. " "We have a common object," said Pris- cilla. "I think you are mistaken," said Spada. "Shall I tell her all. Sister Priscilla?" " That very much depends on what you have to tell." " He is lying drunk on my bed now," said Spada. " Come away here," said Sister Priscilla, rising. " Come away with me." " Go not with the man of blood. Sister," cried Father Peter. " You old fool, who is likely to trouble me?" said Sister Priscilla, losing her temper with remarkable rapidity. " And if any one did meddle with me, even you cannot deny that I am old enough and ugly enough to take care of myself." " He is in the pay of Burgundy ; he is a traitor; he goes about catching souls," cried Father Peter. Old Margaret. 195 " Will you be quiet?" said Sister Pris- cilia, and indeed Father Peter was not quiet at all, but rambled on to poor Mar- tina, who sat beside him, and with the usual tact of the regular clergy he selected for his topic of conversation the illimitable wickedness df Van Dysart, which drove her half mad. * Meanwhile Sister Priscilla and Spada were talking together under an archway. Spada had begun the conversation by de- clining to speak, but standing and looking Sister Priscilla straight in the eyes. At last Sister Priscilla said, "Well?" " I knew that I could make you speak first," said Spada. " You women are awful fools. Would you say what you said just now over again; it struck me as pointed." " I only said ' Well,' " said Sister Pris- cilla. 196 Old Margaret. '• Yes; and do you see that I made you say it twice over? Nun, nun, we are on a very ugly business together. Can you hear me speak the truth for once, and can you understand the truth when you hear it?" " If I can't understand the truth when I hear it," replied Sister Priscilla, " it will be waste of breath for you to tell it to me. Shall I call Peter?" " No, a nun is bad enough, but a half- monk half-priest is worse, and a lady like her who is sitting beside Father Peter is worse than either of the others. I want to say a few words to you." '' I'll listen to you," said Sister Priscilla; " and as you look like a man, Pll heed you as far as I choose." " If you were not devoted to a religious life I would marry you," said Spada. Old Margaret. 197 " You would do nothing of the sort," said Sister Priscilla. "Two parties are required to every bargain, and in the old times I might have married hundreds of men." " You refused them?" " None of them ever asked me ; they knew better. But if you are going to be- gin our present interview by making a fool of me — by asking an old nun to be your wife, I must take the liberty of telling you that I was not, at any period of my life, fool enough to think of marrying any man. I should say that marriage was an utter mistake ; but you may rest assured that the very last person I should have selected, before my vows, would have been a ras- cally dicer and cut-throat like yourself" " Those are hard words, mistress," said Spada, laughing. 198 Old Margaret. " Well, they . CHAPTER XVI. E leave to wiser and more learned men than ourselves to say how much gunpowder has had to do with the success or non-success of town insurrec- tions. It is certain that in modern times, in crooked streets where artillery cannot act, gunpowder and barricades have given the mob a certain chance of winnino;. Yet in tlie old time, without gunpowder, street- fighting was considered extremely dan- gerous by good and excellent generals. The danger in it was that the heavy cavalry Old Margaret. 221 would be liampered and their horses killed, in which case their men would be caught overladen with their armour. Every man knew the use of a pike or axe, and the fighting was done at close quarters. The mob were no less naturally brave than the men-at-arms, and fought with courage, and what is more, with desperation, knowing what would happen to them, their wives, and their houses if they lost. At Ghent even in these pre-reformation times the citizens and hands, the " Gilden," were laying the foun- dation of the " Dutch Republic," by teach- ins: their brethren of the other towns tliat by good street-fighting they could in the end extract better terms from their rulers than they would otherwise have got. Street-fighting was by no means a thing to be despised. The towns were too crowded and too populous. 222 Old Margaret. But the Duke of Burgundy wanted money, and he had a Cabinet Council, at which all our friends assembled at twelve o'clock in the day in the palace at Ghent. It was extremely noticeable that no cour- tiers were present, but only the men who represented the people, and who were, one or two of them, rather supposed to favour the people a little too much. Van Kenning was the first man who arrived and was shown into the Council Chamber, through the halberdiers, where he found himself alone for some little time. To him arrived, with the most tremendous formalities and presenting of arms, the Archbishop, who, when the door was shut, said — "This is absolute madness!" "What is he 2:oino- to do?" said Van Kenning. " I have not heard. Why has Old Margaret. 223 lie sent for me / There was an agreement that- " I know," said the Archbishop. " Hush !" " You cannot know," said Van Kenning, testily; "no one heard it but himself and myself" " He can keep nothing to himself," said the Archbishop. " If he had only told me I would not have cared, but he has told others. You and he made an arrangement that neither of you were to know anything about one another until you had ruined Van Dysart. That is true, is it not? Don't swear — it is bad manners." But Van Kenning swore nevertheless. " It is easy enough to talk about ruhiing Van Dysart," said the Archbishop; "but it is not quite so easy to do. I was bent on doing it, as far as a Churchman could, 224 Old Margaret. you know, but I am rather sick of the business. The elements seem to choke me every day for carrying on this feud : and this Last madness of the Duke's will render it terribly difficult." " What is it ?" said A^an Kenning. "A tax on salt-fish," said the Arch- bishop. "AYhy, the man is mad!" said Van Kenning. "Assuredly; but he will have his way for all that, and we shall have all our throats cut. If Van Dysart heads the mob and Margaret Van Eyck cannot keep that lunatic Martina in, the mob will win. The Duke has not fifteen hundred men in the place." " I believe that Martina the Scotch- woman has broken out again," said Van Kenning, and went on — Old Margaret. 225 " Will she not turn against Van Dysart?'* The Archbishop shook his head. '' She loves him," he said, quietly. " She threatens him with death and fury, but when it comes to the point I would not trust her." They were both silent for a time. " When this Council is over, come with me to Maro^aret Van Eyck," said the Arch- bishop. Van Kenning nodded. The door was opened, and a little Councillor of the town, in blue velvet, ran suddenly in ; and seeing no one but the Archbishop and Van Ken- ning, stopped himself from making his obeisance to the throne, and coming quickly up to them, whispered — " Strike, Archbishop, strike ! My hands have given notice to leave work to-morrow, and I lose ten thousand." VOL. I. 15 226 Old Margaret. "On what grounds have they struck?'" said the Archbishop. "This preposterous tax — thissalt-fishtax.'^ " Then, it is known?" " Did the Duke of Burgundy ever keep a secret? Van Dysart has sold us. It is fearfully serious," said the little Councillor. " We shall have the people up," said the Archbishop. " We shall, indeed," said the little Coun- cillor. " Archbishop, do you know where Father Peter and Sister Priscilla are ? It is more in your way than mine." " No," said the Archbishop. '• Why, they are missing /" said the little Councillor. " The — the — Saints protect us !" cried the Archbishop. " Here is a fine to-do," said Van Ken- ning. "I shall be no use if those twa Old Margaret. 227 lunatics are carrying the fiery cross round. Archbishop, you have let them go loose too long." The Archbishop spoke out like a man — " I meddle with no friends of those poor whom Christ has given me. Those two loved the poor in their way, and the poor loved them." Van Kenning was intensely delighted at the Archbishop's reply; and the two old Iriends shook hands as honest fellows do when they have been on the verge of a difference. "Now," said the Archbishop, smiling blandly on the Councillor, " have you any more good tidings for us?" " Yes," said the Councillor; " Martina is not to be found. She is not at the Van Eycks." "When did you ask?" 15—3 228 Old Margaret. "An hour ago." "Well, then," said Van Kenning, "I think we are safe in that quarter. She came into the palace last night; and if Margaret has seen nothing of her, she must have been here all night." " Locked up?" said the little Councillor. " Most unwelcome guests of the Duke, who stay all night, are locked up," said Van Kenning. " If he puts her to death," said the Councillor, aghast, "we are all undone. I shall sell out, and go to England." " I think that he only wants her kept in, and, in consequence, has not let her out," said Van Kenning. The door leading behind the throne was thrown open, and the halberdiers came flashing and clattering on to the dais, and forming on the steps of it, nearly a hundred Old Margaret. 229 strong, leaving an open space towards the throne. Then there was a pause and a dead silence. Then came a herald, who advanced to the bottom of the steps, and stood like a statue ; then from above came two pages, in blue velvet, who put cushions at the feet of the throne, and sat on them ; then there was dead silence again, only that Van Kenning whispered to the Arch- bishop, behind his hand — " There are more expected surely, than we three? He would never have had all this tomfoolery for w-s." The Archbishop said, "Hush; read the riddle for yourself Do you see?" Slowly through the open door came the Duke of Burgundy, flicking his face with a pocket handkerchief, with his arm round Van Dysart's neck. Van Kenning was intensely amused. 230 Old Margaret. " If he had done as much for me, I would have gone home and hung myself," he said to himself. " This is fine comedy, and that ass Van Dysart believes it to be real life." But while jeering, he could not refuse a tribute of honest admiration to Van Dysart himself, as he left the Duke, and came flaunting down the steps of the dais towards them. Van Kenning bethought himself that once he had a brother, killed in France, as handsome as Van Dysart; yet he thought again that his brother could not have been so handsome, and his brother had never been so beautifully dressed. When Van Dysart came down to Van Kenning, Van Kenning shook hands with him warmly; and Van Dysart said — Old Margaret 231 " Good day, old Judas. I thought you were vowed to my death." " You have found that out, have you?" said Van Kenning, coolly. "How many secrets have you trusted to the Duke ?" This was very easy to say, for the Duke had given orders that every one should leave tlie hall ; and so the halberdiers went clanking out. A slight difficulty arose between the herald and the two pages with their cushions , as to who had right of going through the door first. It ended in some- thing very like a free fight between the pages and the herald behind the back of the unconscious Duke, to the extreme con- fusion of the Archbishop. He had just ascertained that the pages, by hard ham- mering about the herald's head with their cushions, had won, and had run away with his trumpet, when the doors were 232 Old Margaret. closed, and they were invited up on to the dais, to join the Councih "I suppose, gentlemen," said the Duke, " that you have heard of my proposal to raise more money ? I may shortly say that I propose to raise it by a tax on salt- fish. Archbishop, what do you say to it?" "We shall have a riot," said the Arch- bishop. " And put it down," said the Duke. "What do you say to it. Van Kenning?" "I agree with the Archbishop," said Van Kenning. " But I would like news rom "That is my business," said the Duke , quickly. " What do you say to it, Councillor?" " If it could possibly be avoided, my Lord Duke " began the Councillor. Old Margaret. 233 "It cannot," said the Duke. " What do you say, Van Dysart -" " I think I can carry it through for you," said Van Dysart. " I think you will be able. There are paper and pens there; just write down your demands for doing so, would you, and give them to me?" For one instant there was a motion to- wards Van Dysart from Van Kenning's arm, as though he would have stopped him. But the Duke's eye was on him, and he saw that his bargain must be fulfilled. Van Dysart sat down and wrote out his own infamy and his own deliberate ruin. Fifty thousand crowns if he could persuade the people to submit to the tax ; one hundred thousand if he could lead a sufficient number of them out into the tOAvn into the open where they could be attacked by cavalry. 234 • Old Margaret. It was written, sif^ned, and given to the Duke, who read it, nodded, and put it in his bosom. Then the conversation was resumed by the Duke. " There is one more detail, Van Dysart, which I should wish for. You were the seducer of that petulant woman. Mar- tina?" " I fear that is true." " I want to have her executed; she is a continual plague. That will make no dif- ference in our bargain, I su2:)pose?" " Yes, that would make a great difierence in our bargain," said Van Dysart. " I should want more money." " Well, you will tell me the difference presently ; at present we are agreed, and the Council dismissed. Van Dysart, come to my room in half an hour. I shall see you all to supper, gentlemen. I need not Old Margaret 235 tell you that this Council is perfectly secret, under pain of death." They all four left by the door at the lower end of the room, and the Duke fol- lowed them to it. When their footsteps had died away, the Duke stood in the middle of the room, and said, quietly — " Come out, you two." And from behind the hangings on one side came Spada, and from behind the hangings on the other came Martina. END OF VOL. I. May 1871. TINSLEY BROTHERS' LIST OF NEW BOOKS. Letters on International Eelations before and clnring the War of 1870. By the Times Correspondent at Berlin. Keprinted, by permission, from the Times, with considerable Additions. 2 vols. 8vo. 3G5. " These letters embrace the eventful period between the respective conclusions of the two great wars to which the new German Empire owes its existence. They begin with the preliminaries of the peace of 18GG ; they end with the preliminaries of the peace of 1871. They resolve them- selves accordingly into a history of the triumph of German unity over those jealousies and machinations that culminated in the French aggres- sion." — Times, April l.j. 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