“Wife,” said Smetse, “all this is ours, I tell thee again. To this amount am I paid in advance for certain large orders which have been graciously given me.”
“Art thou not lying?” said she, growing a little calmer.
“No,” said he.
“All this is ours?”
“Yes,” he said, “by the word of honour of a citizen of Ghent.”
“Ah, my man, then we are henceforward out of our trouble.”
“Yes, wife,” said he.
“’Tis a miracle from God.”
“Alas,” said he.
“But these men come hither by night, against the usual custom, tell me the reason of that.”