“Alas, no, My Lord!” said the smith, “for, to tell truth, my courage lacked constancy, and I went back to Ghent, where, like so many another, I came under the Spanish yoke.”
“This is bad, Smetse,” answered My Lord Jesus.
“My Lord,” wept the good wife, “none was more generous than he to the poor, kind to every one, charitable to his enemies, even to the wicked Slimbroek.”
“This is good, Smetse,” said My Lord Jesus; “but hast thou no other merit in thy favour?”
“My Lord,” said the smith, “I have always laboured with a good heart, hated idleness and melancholy, loved joy and merriment, sung gladly, and drunk with thankfulness the bruinbier which came to me from you.”
“This is good, Smetse, but it is not enough.”
“My Lord,” answered the smith, “I thrashed as soundly as I could the wicked ghosts of Jacob Hessels, the Duke of Alva, and Philip II, King of Spain.”
“Smetse,” said My Lord Jesus, “this is very good. I grant thee leave to enter my Paradise.”
UNIFORM WITH “FLEMISH LEGENDS”