“'Tis labour, and skilled labour to boot; and that is better paid in all crafts than rude labour, sweat or no sweat. Besides, there's my time.”
“Your time? Why, what is time to you, at two-and-twenty?” Then fixing his eyes keenly on Gerard, to mark the effect of his words, he said: “Say, rather, you are idle grown. You are in love. Your body is with these chanting monks, but your heart is with Peter Brandt and his red-haired girl.”
“I know no Peter Brandt.”
This denial confirmed Ghysbrecht's suspicion that the caster-out of demons was playing a deep game.
“Ye lie!” he shouted. “Did I not find you at her elbow on the road to Rotterdam?”
“Ah!”
“Ah! And you were seen at Sevenbergen but t'other day.”
“Was I?'
“Ah and at Peter's house.”
“At Sevenbergen?”