The poor mother tenderly caressed him, without speaking. She seemed to fear to encourage by the least word this sorrow she knew to be without hope.
Yvon sat a long time at the bedside, his face hidden in his hands. He recalled his early days, joyous and without care, his affectionate father and brothers, the winning voice of his mother, who instructed them in their early duties, and the young Marie, the constant companion of his youthful plays, whom one day he hoped to call his wife. He had nearly served his apprenticeship at the forge with his father when this fatal epidemic broke out, to which his father and brothers fell victims, and he himself and his mother barely survived. But the blacksmiths of the city refused to accord him the right to continue his father’s business, as he had not fully worked out the required time. That very morning he had heard a neighbour, who came to visit his mother, say that the hand of Marie, which had been the secret of all his efforts and thoughts, had been promised by her father to the rich jeweler of Ziereckstraet. He had not believed it, but the sight he saw from the window confirmed all his fears, and he remained in deep reverie for a long time.
He was startled from it by the sounds of a violent tempest which had suddenly broken upon the city. The merciless blast from the North Sea swept over it, spreading destruction in its course. Everywhere was heard the falling of tiles, the crashing of glass from the broken windows, the uprooting of trees, and the distant noise from the river, whose swollen waters were overflowing its banks. Yvon approached the window; darkness reigned everywhere, the rain fell in torrents, and had extinguished all the torches and lights of the streets.
During all this long October night the storm raged with unabated fury; towards morning it subsided, and when day broke it had passed, leaving all the country inundated. As the disasters of the city were insignificant compared with those of the country the inhabitants consoled themselves with the reflection that others had been more unfortunate than they. It is often thus that we console ourselves. Those who passed in the vicinity of the cathedral saw with regret that the great cross which surmounted the spire had been struck by the lightning, and was so bent that at any instant it might fall. This cross had cost so much work and care to place it so high! The news spread rapidly, and soon the Grande Place before the cathedral was crowded.
In those times, when the love of art reigned supreme, each Flemish city possessed its monument. Ghent boasted its gigantic belfry, surmounted by its Byzantine dragon brought from the crusades; Louvain, its Gothic Hôtel de Ville; Bruges, its old parks and public buildings; while Antwerp glorified itself justly in its cathedral, of which no one dared to contest the superiority as a work of art and architecture. All the citizens viewed this sight with consternation, and asked each other anxiously who would be the individual bold enough to attempt such a perilous enterprise. The sound of a trumpet was heard and two heralds on horseback appeared on the Place. Silence being established, one of them read with a slow and loud voice the following proclamation:—
CATHEDRAL, ANTWERP.
“To the good citizens of Antwerp!—We, the Burgomaster and Aldermen of the city, make known that we have resolved to give five hundred golden crowns to the person who will reëstablish the iron cross in its ancient position on the cathedral tower. Five hundred golden crowns! Citizens! Whoever desires to obtain this munificent reward will present himself immediately before the Council now assembled at the Hôtel de Ville.”
There was a moment of silence. Each one waited to see who would accept, but no one advanced. The heralds were about to retire, to read elsewhere their proclamation, when the crowd suddenly opened and gave passage to a young man, who precipitated himself resolutely towards the Hôtel de Ville. Every eye was turned towards him with curiosity. He was of extreme beauty, although emaciated, but from his eyes shone forth manly resolution and courage. The crowd anxiously waited the result. A few minutes only had passed when the heralds reappeared to read a second proclamation:—
“To the good citizens of Antwerp!—We, the Burgomaster and Aldermen, make known that Yvon Bruggermans, blacksmith and free citizen, has engaged before us this 23d day of October, 1520, to reëstablish our iron cross in its position upon the tower of the cathedral tomorrow with the aid of God. Consequently, we order all who may be present to refrain from distracting the attention of the said Yvon Bruggermans, by cries, charms, or malicious interventions, but on the contrary to give him all the assistance which he may need for the accomplishment of his work in the name of God and the Holy Virgin.”