The lion of Flanders. Vol. I

appearance behind the church of St. Donatus, and would have knocked, but on approaching for that purpose, he perceived that the door was gone, and its place supplied by a piece of cloth hung over the entrance. He was evidently well acquainted with the inmates, and familiar with its interior arrangements; for, lifting up the hanging, he stepped forward without the slightest hesitation through the shop into which the doorway opened, and passed on into a little chamber behind it. The shop was quite dark; the room which he now entered was doubtfully lighted by a small lamp, the flickering rays of which, however, enabled him to discern at a glance the state of things within. The floor was strewn with the fragments of shattered furniture —a woman sat weeping by a table, with two young children pressed against her bosom, amid alternate sighs and kisses, as thanking Heaven that they at least, her best and dearest portion of this world's goods, were spared to her. Further on, in a corner, butlialf-illuminated by the lamp's pale beams, sat a man, with his head resting on his hand, who seemed to be asleep.

Alarmed at Deconinck's unexpected apparition, the woman clasped her babes still closer to her breast, while a loud cry of terror escaped her lips. The man started up, and hastily grasped his crossknife; but in a moment, recognizing his Dean, "Oh master!" he exclaimed; "what a heavy burden did you lay upon me when you ordered me not to leave the city! By God's grace we have escaped the massacre; but our house has been pillaged, we have seen our brothers murdered by the hangman or the soldiery; and what to-morrow may bring Heaven alone knows. Oh, let me quit this place, I pray you, and come out to you at Ardenburg."

To this request Deconinck made no answer; but with his finger beckoned the Guildsman out into the shop. "Gerard," he then commenced in a low voice, "when I quitted the city, I left you and thirty of your comrades behind, that I might have means of intelligence as to the proceedings of our French masters. I chose you out for this service, from my knowledge of your unflinching courage and disinterested patriotism. Perhaps, however, the sight of your brethren upon the gallows has shaken your heart; if so, you have my leave to go this very day to Ardenburg."

"Master," replied Gerard, "your words grieve me deeply; for myself I fear not death, but my wife, my poor children, are here with me, and exposed to all the horrors of the times. They are pining away before my eyes with terror and anxiety; they do nothing but weep and mourn the whole day, and the night brings them no repose. Only look at them, how pale and worn they are! And can I see their suffering without sharing it? Am I not a husband and a father, and ought I not to be the guardian of those who have me alone to look to for protection? Yet what protection can I give them here? Oh, master, believe me, in such times as these a father has more upon his heart than those weaker ones themselves. Nevertheless, I am willing to forget all for my country—yes, even the dearest ties of nature; and so, if you can make any use of me, you may safely count upon me. Now speak; for I feel that you have something weighty to communicate."

Deconinck seized the brave Guildsman's hand and pressed it with much emotion. "Yet one more soul like Breydel's!" he thought.

"Gerard," said he, "you are a worthy Fleming; I thank you for your fidelity and courage. Listen, then; for I have but little time to spare. Go round in haste to your comrades, and give them notice to meet you this night with all possible secrecy in Pepper Lane. Do you alone mount upon the city wall, between the Damme Gate and that of St. Cross; lie down flat upon the rampart, and look out in the direction of St. Cross. Presently you will see a fire lighted in the fields, at the foot of the wall; then do you with your comrades make haste to fall upon the guard and open the gate; you will find seven thousand Flemings before it."

"The gate shall be opened at the appointed hour; fear not," answered Gerard, coolly and resolutely.

"You give me your word on it?"

"My word on it."

"Good-evening, then, worthy friend. God be with you!"

"His angels attend your steps, master!"

The Guildsman returned to his wife, and Deconinck left the house. He proceeded to the neighborhood of the Town Hall, and knocked at the door of a magnificent mansion which was immediately opened to him.

"What will you, Fleming?" asked the servant.

"I wish to speak with Messire de Mortenay."

"Good; but have you arms? for you folks are not to be trusted."

"What's that to you?" replied the Dean. "Go, and tell your master that Deconinck would speak with him."

"What! you, Deconinck? then 'tis sure you have some mischief in hand."

With these words, the servant hastily departed; and in a few moments almost as hastily returning, invited Deconinck to follow him upstairs. The door of a small cabinet was opened and closed again, and the Dean of the Clothworkers stood before the French Governor of Bruges.

De Mortenay was sitting beside a table, on which lay his sword, helmet, and gauntlets; he regarded his visitor with no small astonishment, while Deconinck, with a low obeisance, opened his errand.

"Messire de Mortenay," he commenced, "I have put myself in your power, trusting in your honor, and feeling sure, therefore, that I shall not have to repent of my confidence."

"Certainly," answered De Mortenay; ''you shall return as you have come."

"Your magnanimity, noble sir, is a proverb among us," resumed the Dean; "and it is on that account, and that you may