The good-natured Reicht Heynes began to cry for company; but her mistress scolded her. “Well, you are a pretty one for a sick-room,” said she; and she put out a world of innocent art to cheer the patient; and not without some little success. An old woman, that has seen life and all its troubles, is a sovereign blessing by a sorrowful young woman's side. She knows what to say, and what to avoid. She knows how to soothe her and interest her. Ere she had been there an hour, she had Margaret's head lying on her shoulder instead of on the pillow, and Margaret's soft eyes dwelling on her with gentle gratitude.
“Ah! this is hair,” said the old lady, running her fingers through it. “Come and look at it, Reicht!”
Reicht came and handled it, and praised it unaffectedly. The poor girl that owned it was not quite out of the reach of flattery; owing doubtless to not being dead.
“In sooth, madam, I did use to think it hideous; but he praised it, and ever since then I have been almost vain of it, saints forgive me. You know how foolish those are that love.”
“They are greater fools that don't,” said the old lady, sharply.
Margaret opened her lovely eyes, and looked at her for her meaning.
This was only the first of many visits. In fact either Margaret Van Eyck or Reicht came nearly every day until their patient was convalescent; and she improved rapidly under their hands. Reicht attributed this principally to certain nourishing dishes she prepared in Peter's kitchen; but Margaret herself thought more of the kind words and eyes that kept telling her she had friends to live for.
Martin Wittenhaagen went straight to Rotterdam, to take the bull by the horns. The bull was a biped, with a crown for horns. It was Philip the Good, duke of this, earl of that, lord of the other. Arrived at Rotterdam, Martin found the court was at Ghent. To Ghent he went, and sought an audience, but was put off and baffled by lackeys and pages. So he threw himself in his sovereign's way out hunting, and contrary to all court precedents, commenced the conversation—by roaring lustily for mercy.
“Why, where is the peril, man?” said the duke, looking all round and laughing.
“Grace for an old soldier hunted down by burghers!”