“Then ye must e'en laugh at them, wife. What! a woman grown, and not see why mesdames give tongue? You are a buxom wife; they are a bundle of thread-papers. You are fair and fresh; they have all the Dutch rim under their bright eyes, that comes of dwelling in eternal swamps. There lies your crime. Come, gie me thy pitcher, and if they flout me, shalt see me scrub 'em all wi' my beard till they squeak holy mother.” The pitcher was soon filled, and the soldier put it in Margaret's hand. She murmured, “Thank you kindly, brave soldier.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Come, courage, brave wife; the divell is dead!” She let the heavy pitcher fall on his foot directly. He cursed horribly, and hopped in a circle, saying, “No, the Thief's alive and has broken my great toe.” The apron came down, and there was a lovely face all flushed with' emotion, and two beaming eyes in front of him, and two hands held out clasped. “Nay, nay, 'tis nought,” said he good-humouredly, mistaking. “Denys?” “Well?--But--Hallo! How know you my name is--” “Denys of Burgundy!” “Why, ods bodikins! I know you not, and you know me.” “By Gerard's letter. Crossbow! beard! handsome! The divell is dead.” “Sword of Goliah! this must be she. Red hair, violet eyes, lovely face. But I took ye for a married wife, seeing ye---” “Tell me my name,” said she quickly. “Margaret Brandt.” “Gerard? Where is he? Is he in life? Is he well? Is he coming? Is he come? Why is he not here? Where have ye left him? Oh tell me! prithee, prithee, prithee, tell me!” “Ay, ay, but not here. Oh, ye are all curiosity now, mesdames, eh? Lass, I have been three months a-foot travelling all Holland to find ye, and here you are. Oh, be joyful!” and he flung his cap in the air, and seizing both her hands kissed them ardently. “Ah, my pretty she-comrade, I have found thee at last. I knew I should. Shall be flouted no more. I'll twist your necks at the first word, ye little trollops. And I have got fifteen gold angels left for thee, and our Gerard will soon be here. Shalt wet thy purple eyes no more.” But the fair eyes were wet even now, looking kindly and gratefully at the friend that had dropped among her foes as if from heaven; Gerard's comrade. “Prithee come home with me good, kind Denys. I cannot speak of him before these.” They went off together, followed by a chorus. “She has gotten a man. She has gotten a man at last. Boo! boo! boo!” Margaret quickened her steps; but Denys took down his crossbow and pretended to shoot them all dead: they fled quadrivious, shrieking. CHAPTER LI The reader already knows how much these two had to tell one another. It was a sweet yet bitter day for Margaret, since it brought her a true friend, and ill news; for now first she learned that Gerard was all alone in that strange land. She could not think with Denys that he would come home; indeed he would have arrived before this.