Count Robert having thrown aside his incognito unwillingly, and solely under the pressure of necessity, was still anxious to restrict the knowledge of his presence within the narrowest possible circle; he therefore made no reply for the moment to the physician's recommendations, but, returning with his companions to Matilda's side, sat gazing in silent sorrow upon the pale and seemingly lifeless form of his child. Soon her lips began to move, and she uttered from time to time half-audible sounds. Presently she drew a deeper breath; and twice the sweet word "father," distinctly articulated, struck the listening ear of the Count. A long kiss imprinted on the opening lips expressed the parent's delight, and hastened the maiden's awakening; her blood seemed again to flow, the color returned to her lips, and began even faintly to tinge her cheeks, while her eyes opened to the light with a soft and cheering smile.
It would be impossible to describe the expression of the maiden's countenance at the sight which met her returning consciousness; she did not speak, but raised her arms as though to throw them about her father's neck, who, in his turn, bent over her to meet her fond embrace. Yet her manner of greeting him was not such as he expected; with fondling tenderness she pressed both her hands over his face, and then gently stroked his cheeks; for the moment father and daughter seemed to be lost in one absorbing dream of happiness. Nor were the bystanders, in their measure, less affected by the moving spectacle; they looked on in profoundest silence, cautiously suppressing every sound or movement that might disturb a scene of almost solemn interest. It was curious, however, to observe how differently the several persons gave expression to their feelings. John of Namur, who had most command over himself, stood gazing fixedly before him; William of Juliers, the priest, with bended knees and folded hands, sought composure in prayer; while, to judge from their varying gestures, and the changeful working of their countenances, Sir Guy and Jan Breydel seemed to be swayed alternately by fierce desires of vengeance and the tenderest emotions of sympathy. Deconinck, usually so cold in appearance, was now the most deeply moved of all; a stream of tears flowed from under the hand with which his eyes were screened. No living heart in Flanders beat more warmly for his honored lord than that of the patriotic Clothworker of Bruges; all that belonged to the greatness of his fatherland was holy in the eyes of this noble citizen.
At last Matilda awoke from her trance-like contemplation, clasped her father in her arms, and with a faint voice gave utterance to her feelings in words; to which he, on his part, in tones of heartfelt joy, mingled, however, with sorrow, as ardently responded.
Sir Guy now approached to welcome his niece.
"Ha!" she exclaimed, but still without loosing her hold of her father, "what is it that I seel my dear uncle Guy here, weeping over me! and my cousin William there on his knees, praying! and my uncle John of Namur! Are we, then, at Wynandael?"
"My dear, unhappy niece," replied Guy, "my heart is ready to break to behold you thus; let me too embrace you; it will be some alleviation of my grief;" and he tenderly drew her from her father's arms into his own.
Then, somewhat raising her voice, she said:
"Come, my good cousin of Juliers, do you too give me a kiss; and you too, my kind uncle John."
Thus, as if once more within the bosom of her family, she seemed to forget her sorrows for a moment, and to catch a passing gleam of her old childlike happiness. But when William of Juliers approached, she regarded him with astonishment from head to foot, and exclaimed:
"Why, how is this, cousin William? You, a servant of God, in harness, and with sword by your side!"
"The priest who is in arms for his country is in his holy calling!" was the reply.
Deconinck, meanwhile, and Breydel, standing with uncovered heads at a little distance from the couch, participated in the general joy. Deeply grateful for the faithful affection they had exhibited toward her, Matilda again drew her father's head to her bosom, and whispered in his ear:
"Will you promise me one thing, my dearest father?"
"What is it, my child? It will be a delight to me to fulfil any wish of yours."
"Well, then, forget not, I pray you, to reward these two good and faithful subjects according to their deserts. Daily have they risked their lives in the cause of our country and our house."
"Your desire shall be accomplished, my child. But loose your arms for a moment from my neck," he added, "that I may speak with your uncle Guy."
The two left the chamber together; and when they had reached a convenient spot, the Count said: "My brother, it is fitting that fidelity and affection such as these two good citizens have shown should not be allowed to pass unrewarded; and I am about to charge you with the execution of my wishes in their regard. Remember, then, that it is my desire, that upon the first suitable occasion, with the standard of our house unfurled, and in presence of the Guilds drawn up under arms, and in battle-array, you confer the honor of knighthood upon Peter Deconinck and Jan Breydel, that all may know that it is love for our country which confers the best patent of nobility. Keep this command secret until the time arrives for performing it. And now let us rejoin the rest; for it is high time that I should be gone."
They now returned together to the chamber, and Robert, approaching his
