Notwithstanding the obscurity of the night, the latter at once perceived, by the confused hubbub of voices and the dark masses moving before them, that a large portion of the population was leaving the city. Surging onward came the multitude; and Breydel and his men, full of wonder at the sight, ranged themselves on one side, so as to allow them to pass. The retreat of the fugitives, however, had none of the appearance of a disorderly flight; each family walked on by itself, forming a separate group, and keeping itself distinct from all the rest, without any appearance of mingling or confusion. In the centre of one of these groups might be seen a mother, weeping as she went, the gray-headed grandfather leaning upon her for support, an infant at her breast, and the younger children, crying and wearied, clinging about her knees, while the elder ones followed behind, toiling under the weight of furniture or other property which they carried upon their backs. Group after group followed each other, in what seemed an interminable succession. Some few among them had carts or other vehicles loaded with goods; others, though these were but rare exceptions, were themselves mounted.
It may easily be imagined that Breydel was not long in seeking to ascertain the cause of this strange procession; but the lamentations with which he was everyivhere greeted in answer to his inquiries were far from afifording him any satisfactory explanation.
"Master," cried one, "the French would have burned us alive; we are flying from a miserable death."
"Oh Master Breydel!" exclaimed another, in a still more piteous tone, "for your life go not back to Bruges; there is a gallows waiting for you at the Smiths' Gate."
As the Dean was about to pursue his inquiries, in the hope of obtaining some clearer information, a wild cry was heard in the rear, and a voice, strong and powerful, but hoarse with terror, shouted aloud:
"Forward! forward! the French men-at-arms are upon us!"
Then there was a general rush onward, and the living tide rolled by with incredible rapidity. Suddenly, from a multitude of voices, there arose the cry:
"Woe! woe! they are burning our city! See, our houses are in flames! Oh, woe to us! woe! woe!"
Breydel, who up to this time had remained motionless and silent from sheer astonishment, now directed his eyes toward the city; and there, indeed, ever and anon, might be seen red jets of flame shooting up amid volumes of lurid smoke, which curled high above the walls. Rage and anguish now combined to rouse him from his stupor, and pointing to the city, he exclaimed:
"What! men of Bruges! is there one among you coward enough thus to abandon your city to destruction? No! never shall our foes make merry round that bonfire! Room here! room! Let us pass through, and then—"
Thus saying, and followed by his comrades, he dashed with resistless impetuosity through the crowd, throwing it aside right and left, while a burst of shrieks arose from the affrighted multitudes, who in their terror imagined that now indeed the French troops were upon them. Regardless of the alarm he had excited, Breydel rapidly pursued his way, wondering all the while that no men of warlike age were to be seen among the throng, when all at once his progress was arrested by a body of Guildsmen who were advancing toward him in regular order. It was a band of Clothworkers, all armed, but not all armed alike; some had crossbows, others halberds, others axes —such arms, in fact, as each man had been able to lay hands upon at the moment; many had only their knives. Onward they came with measured tread, their leader at their head, stopping the way as completely as a fixed barrier; while beyond them again, and following close upon their steps, other similar bodies might be seen issuing successively from the gate. They amounted in all to five thousand men. Breydel was on the point of addressing himself to the leader of the troop for an explanation, when far in the rear, above the din of arms and the heavy tramp of the Guildsmen, resounded the well-known voice of Deconinck.
"Steady, my men," he cried; "courage. Keep well together. Forward, third division! Close up, rear ranks! Fall in there on the left!"
Instantly Breydel pushed forward till he came within call of his friend. "What means all this?" he exclaimed. "A pretty time you have chosen for your drill! Is this what you are about while the city is burning! running away like a set of cowards after the women and children?"
"Ever the same! ever hot and impatient!" was the answer. "What is it you say about the city? Take my word for it, the French dogs shall burn nothing there."
"But, Master Deconinck, are you blind? Do you not see the flames blazing up above the walls?"
"Oh, that is what you mean, is it? That is only the straw we set fire to, that we might not be hindered in getting our wagons through the gates. The city is safe enough, my friend; set your mind at ease, and come back with me. I have important tidings to communicate to you. You know that I look at things coolly, and so it often happens that I am right. Take my advice now, and order your men to face about, and proceed along with us to St. Cross. Will you?"
"In truth. Master Peter, it is the only thing I can do, as I do not yet know what
