"There, forgive me for nagging; I am but a woman; you would not have been so cruel to your own flesh and blood knowingly, would you?""Oh, no."
"Well, then, know that thy brother Sybrandt lies in my charge with a broken back, fruit of thy curse.""Mea culpa! mea culpa!"
"He is very penitent; be yourself and forgive him this night.""I have forgiven him long ago."
"Think you he can believe that from any mouth but yours? Come! he is but about two butts' length hence.""So near? Why, where?"
"At Gouda manse.I took him there yestreen.For I know you, the curse was scarce cold on your lips when you repented it" (Gerard nodded assent), "and I said to myself, Gerard will thank me for taking Sybrandt to die under his roof; he will not beat his breast and cry mea culpa, yet grudge three footsteps to quiet a withered brother on his last bed.He may have a bee in his bonnet, but he is not a hypocrite, a thing all pious words and uncharitable deeds."Gerard literally staggered where he sat at this tremendous thrust.
"Forgive me for nagging," said she."Thy mother too is waiting for thee.Is it well done to keep her on thorns so long She will not sleep this night, Bethink thee, Gerard, she is all to thee that Iam to this sweet child.Ah, I think so much more of mothers since I had my little Gerard.She suffered for thee, and nursed thee, and tended thee from boy to man.Priest monk, hermit, call thyself what thou wilt, to her thou art but one thing; her child.""Where is she?" murmured Gerard, in a quavering voice.
"At Gouda manse, wearing the night in prayer and care."Then Margaret saw the time was come for that appeal to his reason she had purposely reserved till persuasion should have paved the way for conviction.So the smith first softens the iron by fire, and then brings down the sledge hammer.
She showed him, but in her own good straightforward Dutch, that his present life was only a higher kind of selfishness, spiritual egotism; whereas a priest had no more right to care only for his own soul than only for his own body.That was not his path to heaven."But," said she, "whoever yet lost his soul by saving the souls of others! the Almighty loves him who thinks of others; and when He shall see thee caring for the souls of the folk the duke hath put into thine hand, He will care ten times more for thy soul than He does now."Gerard was struck by this remark."Art shrewd in dispute," said he.
"Far from it," was the reply, "only my eyes are not bandaged with conceit.[1] So long as Satan walks the whole earth, tempting men, and so long as the sons of Belial do never lock themselves in caves, but run like ants to and fro corrupting others, the good man that skulks apart plays the devil's game, or at least gives him the odds: thou a soldier of Christ? ask thy Comrade Denys, who is but a soldier of the duke, ask him if ever he skulked in a hole and shunned the battle because forsooth in battle is danger as well as glory and duty.For thy sole excuse is fear; thou makest no secret on't, Go to, no duke nor king hath such cowardly soldiers as Christ hath.What was that you said in the church at Rotterdam about the man in the parable that buried his talent in the earth, and so offended the giver? Thy wonderful gift for preaching, is it not a talent, and a gift from thy Creator?""Certes; such as it is."
"And hast thou laid it out? or buried it? To whom hast thou preached these seven months? to bats and owls? Hast buried it in one hole with thyself and thy once good wits?
"The Dominicans are the friars preachers.'Tis for preaching they were founded, so thou art false to Dominic as well as to his Master.
"Do you remember, Gerard, when we were young together, which now are old before our time, as we walked handed in the fields, did you but see a sheep cast, ay, three fields off, you would leave your sweetheart (by her good will) and run and lift the sheep for charity? Well, then, at Gouda is not one sheep in evil plight, but a whole flock; some cast, some strayed, some sick, some tainted, some a being devoured, and all for the want of a shepherd.Where is their shepherd? lurking in a den like a wolf, a den in his own parish; out fie! out fie!
"I scented thee out, in part, by thy kindness to the little birds.
Take note, you Gerard Eliassoen must love something, 'tis in your blood; you were born to't.Shunning man, you do but seek earthly affection a peg lower than man."Gerard interrupted her."The birds are God's creatures, His innocent creatures, and I do well to love them, being God's creatures.""What, are they creatures of the same God that we are, that he is who lies upon thy knee?""You know they are."
"Then what pretence for shunning us and being kind to them? Sith man is one of the animals, why pick him out to shun? Is't because he is of animals the paragon? What, you court the young of birds, and abandon your own young? Birds need but bodily food, and having wings, deserve scant pity if they cannot fly and find it.But that sweet dove upon thy knee, he needeth not carnal only, but spiritual food.He is thine as well as mine; and I have done my share.He will soon be too much for me, and I look to Gouda's parson to teach him true piety and useful lore.Is he not of more value than many sparrows?"Gerard started and stammered an affirmation.For she waited for his reply.
"You wonder," continued she, "to hear me quote holy writ so glib.
