"But tell me," said Denys, with some surprise, "when wast thou in Cologne?""Never but in the spirit.I prattle with the good monks by the way, and they tell me all the notable things both old and new.
"Ay, ay, have not I seen your nose under their very cowls? But when I speak of matters that are out of sight, my words they are small, and the thing it was big; now thy words be as big or bigger than the things; art a good limner with thy tongue; I have said it; and for a saint, as ready with hand, or steel, or bolster - as any poor sinner living; and so, shall I tell thee which of all these things thou hast described draws me to Cologne?""Ay, Denys."
"Thou, and thou only; no dead saint, but my living friend and comrade true; 'tis thou alone draws Denys of Burgundy to Cologne?"Gerard hung his head.
At this juncture one of the younger boatmen suddenly inquired what was amiss with "little turnip-face?"His young nephew thus described had just come aft grave as a judge, and burst out crying in the midst without more ado.On this phenomenon, so sharply defined, he was subjected to many interrogatories, some coaxingly uttered, some not.Had he hurt himself? had he over-ate himself? was he frightened? was he cold?
was he sick? was he an idiot?
To all and each he uttered the same reply, which English writers render thus, oh! oh! oh! and French writers thus, hi! hi! hi! So fixed are Fiction's phonetics.
"Who can tell what ails the peevish brat?" snarled the young boatman impatiently."Rather look this way and tell me whom be these after!" The old man and his other son looked, and saw four men walking along the east bank of the river; at the sight they left rowing awhile, and gathered mysteriously in the stern, whispering and casting glances alternately at their passengers and the pedestrians.
The sequel may show they would have employed speculation better in trying to fathom the turnip-face mystery; I beg,pardon of my age:
I mean "the deep mind of dauntless infancy.
"If 'tis as I doubt," whispered one of the young men, "why not give them a squeak for their lives; let us make for the west bank."The old man objected stoutly."What," said he, "run our heads into trouble for strangers! are ye mad? Nay, let us rather cross to the east side; still side with the strong arm! that is my rede.What say you, Werter?""I say, please yourselves."
What age and youth could not decide upon, a puff of wind settled most impartially.Came a squall, and the little vessel heeled over; the men jumped to windward to trim her; but to their horror they saw in the very boat from stem to stern a ditch of water rushing to leeward, and the next moment they saw nothing, but felt the Rhine, the cold and rushing Rhine.
"Turnip-face" had drawn the plug.
The officers unwound the cords from their waists.
Gerard could swim like a duck; but the best swimmer, canted out of a boat capsized, must sink ere he can swim.The dark water bubbled loudly over his head, and then he came up almost blind and deaf for a moment; the next, he saw the black boat bottom uppermost, and figures clinging to it; he shook his head like a water-dog, and made for it by a sort of unthinking imitation; but ere he reached it he heard a voice behind him cry not loud but with deep manly distress, "Adieu, comrade, adieu!"He looked, and there was poor Denys sinking, sinking, weighed down by his wretched arbalest.His face was pale, and his eyes staring wide, and turned despairingly on his dear friend.Gerard uttered a wild cry of love and terror, and made for him, cleaving the water madly; but the next moment Denys was under water.
The next, Gerard was after him.
The officers knotted a rope and threw the end in.