"Is it so?" cried Gerard. "Then hear me, all. By God and St. Bavon I swear I will never be a priest while Margaret lives. Since force is to decide it, and not love and duty, try force, father; but force shall not serve you, for the day I see the burgomaster come for me, I leave Tergou for ever, and Holland too, and my father's house, where it seems I have been valued all these years, not for myself, but for what is to be got out of me." And he flung out of the room white with anger and desperation. "There!" cried Catherine, "that comes of driving young folk too hard. But men are crueller than tigers, even to their own flesh and blood. Now, Heaven forbid he should ever leave us, married or single." As Gerard came out of the house, his cheeks pale and his heart panting, he met Reicht Heynes: she had a message for him: Margaret Van Eyck desired to see him. He found the old lady seated grim as a judge. She wasted no time in preliminaries, but inquired coldly why he had not visited her of late: but before he could answer, she said in a sarcastic tone, "I thought we had been friends, young sir." At this Gerard looked the picture of doubt and consternation. "It is because you never told her you were in love," said Reicht Heynes, pitying his confusion. "Silence, wench! Why should he tell us his affairs? We are not his friends: we have not deserved his confidence." "Alas! my second mother," said Gerard, "I did not dare to tell you my folly." "What folly? It is it folly to love?" "I am told so every day of my life." "You need not have been afraid to tell my mistress; she is always kind to true lovers." "Madam--Reicht,--I was afraid because I was told--" "Well? you were told--?" "That in your youth you scorned love, preferring art." "I did, boy; and what is the end of it? Behold me here a barren stock, while the women of my youth have a troop of children at their side and grandchildren at their knee. I gave up the sweet joys of wifehood and motherhood for what? for my dear brothers. They have gone and left me long ago; for my art. It has all but left me too. I have the knowledge still, but what avails that when the hand trembles. No, Gerard: I look on you as my son. You are good, you are handsome, you are a painter, though not like some I have known. I will not let you throw your youth away as I did mine: you shall marry this Margaret. I have inquired, and she is a good daughter. Reicht here is a gossip. She has told me all about it. But that need not hinder _you_ to tell me." Poor Gerard was overjoyed to be permitted to praise Margaret aloud, and to one who could understand what he loved in her. Soon there were two pairs of wet eyes over his story; and when the poor boy saw that, there were three.