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They found Eli and a carpenter putting up another name in place of Cornelis and Sybrandt's; and what should that name be but Margaret Brandt's. With all her affection for Margaret, this went through poor Catherine like a knife. "The bane of one is another's meat," said she. "Can he make me spend the money unjustly?" replied Margaret coldly. "You are a good soul," said Catherine.
"Wherefore, prithee send away these drunkards, and let you and me have t'other glass, to drown all unkindness." All this time Margaret was pale and red by turns at sight of her enemy and at his insolence; but one of the men whispered what had happened, and a streaky something in Sybrandt's face arrested her attention. "And he cannot stand up, say you?" "A couldn't just now. Try, comrade!
He pretended to fumble for his money: then suddenly thrust his staff fiercely into Sybrandt's face, and drove him staggering, and lent Cornelis a back-handed slash on the ear that sent him twirling like a weathercock in March; then whirled his weapon over his head and danced about the road like a figure on springs, shouting: "Come on, ye thieving loons! Come on!"
Margaret and Reicht Heynes carried him carefully, and laid him on the softest bed. "I must do as he would do," whispered Margaret. "He was kind to Ghysbrecht." Her opinion was verified, Sybrandt's spine was fatally injured; and he lay groaning and helpless, fed and tended by her he had so deeply injured. The news was sent to Tergou, and Catherine came over. It was a terrible blow to her.
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