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Updated: May 28, 2025
He was at the table in a moment, in front of Cornelis and Sybrandt, threw his tall body over the narrow table, and with two hands hovering above their shrinking heads, like eagles over a quarry, he cursed them by name, soul and body, in this world and the next.
Some blackguard or other, I think it was Sybrandt, said, "A lie is not like a blow with a curtal axe." True: for we can predict in some degree the consequences of a stroke with any material weapon. But a lie has no bounds at all. The nature of the thing is to ramify beyond human calculation. Often in the everyday world a lie has cost a life, or laid waste two or three.
"Slay me not, good fellows," he cried; "I am but a poor man, and ye shall have my all." "So be it then. Live! but empty thy wallet." "There is nought in my wallet, good friend, but one letter." "That we shall see," said Sybrandt, who was the one in front. "Well, it is a letter." "Take it not from me, I pray you. 'Tis worth nought, and the good dame would fret that writ it."
Thou unmannerly cur, offer't but again and I put thee to the door." "Why, what was there to gibe at, Sybrandt?" remonstrated Catherine more mildly. "Is not our Kate afflicted? and is she not the most content of us all, and singeth like a merle at times between her pains? But I am as bad as thou; prithee read on, lass, and stop our gabble wi' somewhat worth the hearkening."
That same night a Dominican friar, livid with rage, burst into the room when Eli and Catherine were collected with their family round the table at supper. Standing in front of Cornelius and Sybrandt he cursed them by name, soul and body, in this world and the next. Then he tore a letter out of his bosom, and flung it down before his father.
Be a man now!" "I am a better man than thou," roared Sybrandt. "I'll stand up and fight ye all for a crown." He started to his feet, and instantly rolled into his attendant's arms with a piteous groan. He then began to curse his boon companions, and declare they had stolen away his legs. "He could feel nothing below the waist." "Alas, poor wretch," said Margaret.
Heaven send thee safe out of all thy perils; there be famous fair women yonder to beguile thee, with their faces, as well as men to hash thee with their axes." He was hurried on board at La Vere, and never saw Gerard at that time. In 1473 Sybrandt began to fail.
Now this money was to last Sybrandt till his mother could make some good excuse for visiting Rotterdam again, and then she would bring the idle dog some of her own industrious savings.
They changed colour, and lost all zeal for the business. "No! no! we don't hate our brother. We won't get ourselves hanged to spite him," said Sybrandt; "that would be a fool's trick." "Hanged!" cried Ghysbrecht. "Am I not the burgomaster? How can ye be hanged? I see how 'tis ye fear to tackle one man, being two: hearts of hare, that ye are! Oh! why cannot I be young again?
As they gazed on that simple sketch, in every turn and line of which they recognized his manner, Gerard seemed present, and bidding them farewell. The women wept over it till they could see it no longer. Giles said, "Poor Gerard!" in a lower voice than seemed to belong to him. Even Cornelis and Sybrandt felt a momentary remorse, and sat silent and gloomy. But how to get the words read to them.
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