"It was not the dwarf's greater strength, but his smaller body."The spectators received this excuse with loud derision.There was the fact, the dwarf was great at mounting a pole: the giant only great at excuses.In short Giles had gauged their intellects: with his own body no doubt.
"Come," said he, "an ye go to that, I'll wrestle ye, my lad, if so be you will let me blindfold your eyne."The giant, smarting under defeat, and thinking he could surely recover it by this means, readily consented.
"Madam," said Giles, "see you yon blind Samson? At a signal from me he shall make me a low obeisance, and unbonnet to me.""How may that be, being blinded?" inquired a maid of honour.
"I'll wager on Giles for one," said the princess.
"That is my affair."
When several wagers were laid pro and con, Giles hit the giant in the bread-basket.He went double (the obeisance), and his bonnet fell off.
The company yelled with delight at this delicate stroke of wit, and Giles took to his heels.The giant followed as soon as he could recover his breath and tear off his bandage.But it was too late; Giles had prepared a little door in the wall, through which he could pass, but not a giant, and had coloured it so artfully, it looked like a wall; this door he tore open, and went headlong through, leaving no vestige but this posy, written very large upon the reverse of his trick door -Long limbs, big body, panting wit By wee and wise is bet and bitAfter this Giles became a Force.
He shall now speak for himself.
Finding Margaret unable to believe the good news, and sceptical as to the affairs of Holy Church being administered by dwarfs, he narrated as follows:
"When the princess sent for me to her bedroom as of custom, to keep her out of languor, I came not mirthful nor full of country dicts, as is my wont, but dull as lead,"'Why, what aileth thee?' quo' she.'Art sick?' 'At heart,' quo'
I.'Alas, he is in love,' quo' she.Whereat five brazen hussies, which they call them maids of honour, did giggle loud.'Not so mad as that,' said I, 'seeing what I see at court of women folk,'
"'There, ladies,' quo' the princess, 'best let him a be.'Tis a liberal mannikin, and still giveth more than he taketh of saucy words.'
"'In all sadness,' quo' she, 'what is the matter?'
"I told her I was meditating, and what perplexed me was, that other folk could now and then keep their word, but princes never.
"'Heyday,' says she, 'thy shafts fly high this morn.' I told her, 'Ay, for they hit the Truth,'
"She said I was as keen as keen; but it became not me to put riddles to her, nor her to answer them.'Stand aloof a bit, mesdames,' said she, 'and thou speak withouten fear;' for she saw I was in sad earnest.
"I began to quake a bit; for mind ye, she can doff freedom and don dignity quicker than she can slip out of her dressing-gown into kirtle of state.But I made my voice so soft as honey (wherefore smilest?), and I said 'Madam, one evening, a matter of five years agone, as ye sat with your mother, the Countess of Charolois, who is now in heaven, worse luck, you wi' your lute, and she wi' her tapestry, or the like, do ye mind there came came into ye a fair youth with a letter from a painter body, one Margaret Van Eyck?""She said she thought she did, 'Was it not a tall youth, exceeding comely?'
"'Ay, madam,' said I; 'he was my brother.'
"'Your brother?' said she, and did eye me like all over, (What dost smile at?")"So I told her all that passed between her and Gerard, and how she was for giving him a bishopric; but the good countess said, 'Gently, Marie! he is too young; and with that they did both promise him a living: 'Yet,' said I, 'he hath been a priest a long while, and no living.Hence my bile.'
"'Alas!' said she, "tis not by my good will; for all this thou hast said is sooth, and more.I do remember my dear mother said to me, "See thou to it if I be not here."' So then she cried out, 'Ay, dear mother, no word of thine shall ever fall to the ground.'
"I, seeing her so ripe, said quickly, 'Madam, the Vicar of Gouda died last week.' (For when ye seek favours of the great, behoves ye know the very thing ye aim at.)"'Then thy brother is vicar of Gouda,' quo' she, 'so sure as I am heiress of Burgundy and the Netherlands.Nay, thank me not, good Giles,' quo' she, 'but my good mother.And I do thank thee for giving of me somewhat to do for her memory.And doesn't she fall a weeping for her mother? And doesn't that set me off a-snivelling for my good brother that I love so dear, and to think that a poor little elf like me could yet speak in the ear of princes, and make my beautiful brother vicar of Gouda; eh, lass, it is a bonny place, and a bonny manse, and hawthorn in every bush at spring-tide, and dog-roses and eglantine in every summer hedge.Iknow what the poor fool affects, leave that to me."The dwarf began his narrative strutting to and fro before Margaret, but he ended it in her arms; for she could not contain herself, but caught him, and embraced him warmly."Oh, Giles," she said, blushing, and kissing him, "I cannot keep my hands off thee, thy body it is so little, and thy heart so great.Thou art his true friend.Bless thee! bless thee! bless thee! Now we shall see him again.We have not set eyes on him since that terrible day.""Gramercy, but that is strange," said Giles."Maybe he is ashamed of having cursed those two vagabones, being our own flesh and blood, worse luck,""Think you that is why he hides?" said Margaret eagerly;"Ay, if he is hiding at all.However, I'll cry him by bellman.
"Nay, that might much offend him."
"What care I? Is Gouda to go vicarless and the manse in nettles?"And to Margaret's secret satisfaction, Giles had the new vicar cried in Rotterdam and the neighbouring towns.He easily persuaded Margaret that in a day or two Gerard would be sure to hear, and come to his benefice.She went to look at his manse, and thought how comfortable it might be made for him, and how dearly she should love to do it.
But the days rolled on, and Gerard came neither to Rotterdam nor Gouda.Giles was mortified, Margaret indignant, and very wretched.