“Now that is true,” said Gerard. “Young as I am, I have seen this; that after every great battle the generals on both sides go to the nearest church, and sing each a Te Deum for the victory; methinks a Te Martem, or Te Bellonam, or Te Mercurium, Mercury being the god of lies, were more fitting.”
“Pas si bete,” said Denys approvingly. “Hast a good eye: canst see a steeple by daylight. So now tell me how thou hast fared in this town all day.”
“Come,” said Gerard, “'tis well thou hast asked me: for else I had never told thee.” He then related in full how he had been arrested, and by what a providential circumstance he had escaped long imprisonment or speedy conflagration.
His narrative produced an effect he little expected or desired.
“I am a traitor,” cried Denys. “I left thee in a strange place to fight thine own battles, while I shook the dice with those jades. Now take thou this sword and pass it through my body forthwith.”
“What for in Heaven's name?” inquired Gerard.
“For an example,” roared Denys. “For a warning to all false loons that profess friendship, and disgrace it.”
“Oh, very well,” said Gerard. “Yes. Not a bad notion. Where will you have it?”
“Here, through my heart; that is, where other men have a heart, but I none, or a Satanic false one.”
Gerard made a motion to run him through, and flung his arms round his neck instead. “I know no way to thy heart but this, thou great silly thing.”