And the Silent, rising up, came to Magtelt, kissed her right hand wherewith she had held the sword, and wept likewise, saying: “Thanks be to thee who hast brought about the reckoning.”
The lady Gonde was like a woman drunk with joy, and could not find her tongue. At last, bursting into sobs, melting into tears, and embracing Magtelt eagerly:
“Ah, ah,” she cried out, “kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, little one! She has slain the Miserable, the sweet maid; the nightingale has vanquished the falcon! My child is come home again, home again my child. Noël! Thanks be to God who loves aged mothers and will not have them robbed of their children. Noël! See, Magtelt the beautiful, Magtelt the singing-bird, Magtelt the joyous, Magtelt the bright of heart, Magtelt the glorious, Magtelt the victorious, Magtelt my daughter, my child, my all, Noël!”
And Magtelt smiled at her, caressing her and stroking her hands gently.
And the lady Gonde, weeping freely, let her do, without speaking.
“Ah,” said Sir Roel, “I never saw my wife before in such festival mood.” Then suddenly he cried out:
“Festival,” quoth he, “this should be a day of festival, the great feast of the house of Heurne!”
And he threw open the door to call his pages, grooms, men-at-arms, and all the household.
But they all held back, not daring to enter.
“Ho!” cried he, in his great joyous voice, “where are cooks and kitchen-maids? Where are cauldrons, pots, and frying-pans? Where are barrels, kegs, flagons and bottles, tankards, mugs, and goblets? Where is clauwaert simple and double? Where is old wine and new wine? Where are hams and sausages, whales’ tongues, and loins of beef, meat of the air, meat of the waters, and meat of the fields? Bring in everything there is and set it on the table, for this must be a feast-day in this house, feast for an emperor, a king, a prince; for”—and so saying he held up the Miserable’s head by the hair—“our beloved maid has slain with her own hand the lord Siewert Halewyn.”