And he flung out of the room white with anger and desperation.

“There!” cried Catherine.  “That comes of driving young folk too hard.  Now, heaven forbid he should ever leave us, married or single.”

Gerard went to his good friend Margaret Van Eyck, who advised him to go to Italy, where painters were honoured like princes, and to take the girl he loved with him.  Ten golden angels she gave him besides to take him to Rome.

Gerard decided to marry Margaret Brandt at once, and a day or two later they stood before the altar of Sevenbergen Church.  But the ceremony was never concluded, although Gerard got a certificate from the priest, for Ghysbrecht getting wind of what was afoot, sent his servants, who stopped the marriage, and carried Gerard off to the burgomaster’s prison.  In the room where he was confined were very various documents, which the prisoner got hold of.

Gerard escaped from the prison, and vowing he had done with Tergon, bade farewell to Margaret, and set off for Italy.  Once across the frontier in Germany he was safe from Ghysbrecht’s malice.  He also had in his keeping the piece of parchment which gave certain lands to Peter Brandt, and which Ghysbrecht had hitherto held.

II.—­To Rome

It is likely Gerard would never have reached Rome but for his faithful comrade Denys, a soldier making his way home to Burgundy, whom he met early on the road.  Gerard, at first, was for going on alone, but his companion would not be refused.

“You will find me a dull companion, for my heart is very heavy,” said Gerard, yielding.

“I’ll cheer you, mon gars.”

“I think you would,” said Gerard sweetly; “and sore need have I of a kindly voice in mine ear this day.”

“Oh, no soul is sad alongside me.  I lift up their poor little hearts with my consigne; ‘Courage, tout le monde, le diable est mort.’  Ha!  Ha!”

“So be it, then,” said Gerard.  “We will go together as far as Rhine, and God go with us both!”

“Amen!” said Denys, and lifted up his cap.

The pair trudged manfully on, and Denys enlivened the weary way.  He chattered about battles and sieges, and things which were new to Gerard; and he was one of those who make little incidents wherever they go.  He passed nobody without addressing him.  “They don’t understand it, but it wakes them up,” said he.  But, whenever they fell in with a monk or priest, he pulled a long face and sought the reverend father’s blessing, and fearlessly poured out on him floods of German words in such order as not to produce a single German sentence.  He doffed his cap to every woman, high or low, he caught sight of, and complimented her in his native tongue, well adapted to such matters; and at each carrion crow or magpie down came his crossbow, and he would go a furlong off the road to circumvent it; and indeed he did shoot one old crow with laudable neatness, and carried it to the nearest hen-roost, and there slipped in and sat it upon a nest.  “The good-wife will say, ’Alack, here is Beelzebub a hatching of my eggs.’”