At this, every man was instantly on the alert, and looked the newcomer in the face with an expression of mingled doubt and inquiry.
"Yes," he went on; "to-morrow we set off for France, with the lady that paid us a visit at such an out-of-the-way time last night."
"Is that so, indeed?" asked Leroux.
"Nothing more certain; Messire de St. Pol has sent me to desire you to be in readiness."
“I do not doubt you, for you are always a bringer of bad news."
"Why, what now? are you not then glad of the news? and don't you want to get back to France again?"
"No, not a bit of it! Here we are enjoying the fruits of victory, and for my part I don't want to leave the feast so early."
"Well, you needn't be so put out about it; 'tis only for a few days; we shall soon be back."
Just as Leroux was about to reply the door opened, and a Fleming entered, who, with a bold and careless glance at the French soldiers, sat down at a table by himself, and called out:
"Now, host! a stoup of beer. Quick, I'm in haste!"
"Anon, anon! I'm coming, Master Breydel!"
"He's a fine fellow, that Fleming!" whispered to Leroux the soldier who was sitting next him. "He's not so tall as you; but what a build! and what a voice too! He's no peasant, that!"
"He is a fine fellow, indeed," answered Leroux; "he has eyes like a lion. I like him."
"Host!" cried Breydel again, rising, "what are you about all this while? my throat is as dry as a smoked herring!"
"Tell me, Fleming," asked Leroux, addressing him, "can you speak French?"
“I'm sorry to say I can," answered Breydel in that language.
"Well, then, as I see that yau're impatient and thirsty, accept a drink from me, till your own comes. Here, and good luck to you!"
The Fleming took the proffered cup with a motion of thanks, saying, as he raised it to his mouth:
"Health and long life to you!"
But hardly had a few drops of its contents passed his lips, when he hastily set it down again upon the table with an ill-suppressed look of disgust.
"What's that? why, the noble liquor frightens you I Ah! you Flemings are not used to it," cried Leroux, laughing.
"It's French wine!" answered Breydel, with careless indifference, as though his aversion had been a mere natural distaste.
The soldiers looked at one another, and a movement of displeasure contracted Leroux's brow. Nevertheless, Breydel's manner and countenance gave so little appearance of intention to his words that nothing was said, and the Fleming returned quietly to his table, where the beer he had called for stood ready waiting for him, and resumed his seat, taking no further notice of the French party.
"Now, comrades," cried Leroux, raising his beaker, "one draft more, that we may not go away with dry throats; here's to the health of this Flemish fair one, and may the devil fly away with her!"
At this toast Jan had some trouble to contain himself, but succeeded, and Leroux went on:
"If only by good luck all keeps quiet while we're gone! These rascally citizens are getting more than half-disposed to rebel, and there may be an outbreak any day. A pretty take-in it would be for us, if the others are at the plundering of Bruges while we are out of the way! We should have to thank this jade for it!"
Again Breydel's blood began to boil; but he remembered his promise and held his peace, listening, however, the more attentively as the Frenchman resumed:
"I should like to know who she is. I suppose she's the wife of one of the rebel nobles, and going to make one with the others they've got safe hold of there. Yes, yes! she'll not spend her time very pleasantly in France, depend upon it!"
Jan, meanwhile, felt that if he was to hold his peace he must find some vent for his feelings; accordingly he rose from his seat, and paced up and down at the farther end of the apartment, humming over in a low voice a Flemish popular song of the day:
"The sable Lion I Mark him ramping So proudly on his golden field I Mark well his claws, his giant weapons, That tear the foe spite mail and shield!
Behold his eyes, for battle flashing!
Behold his mane, how wild it flies! That Lion is our Flemish Lion,
That crouching still the foe defies."
The French soldiers looked at one another in astonishment. "Hark!" said one of them; "that is one of the Claward songs; and the insolent Fleming dares to sing it in our presence!"
These words Jan Breydel heard plainly enough; but he took no notice of them, and went on with his tune. He even raised his voice somewhat, as though in defiance of the Frenchmen:
"He showed his claws in Eastern regions,
And trembling' fled the Eastern host! Before his keen eye paled the Crescent,
The Saracen forgot his boast! Returning to the West, his children
He guerdoned for their deeds of fame; He gave to Godfrey, gave to Baldwin,
A royal and imperial name."
"Tell me, what is the meaning of that song they always have in their mouths?" inquired Leroux of a Fleming belonging to the castle, who was sitting by him.
"Well, the meaning of it is, that the Black Lion clawed the Saracens and their Crescent right hand somely, and made Count Baldwin Emperor of Constantinople."
"But I say, Fleming," cried Leroux to Breydel, "you must acknowledge that your terrible black lion has had to turn tail before King Philip's lilies; and now, I suspect, he's dead, for good and all."
Master Jan
