servantbegantoassumeaverydifferentaspect。When，afterhavingbeenasfreeasairtocomeandgoasshechose，shewasonlypermittedtoattendserviceonSundays，andtotakeanhour’spromenadewithDortje，whowasdullandheavyandstupid，shebegantofeelpositivelydesperate;andtheresultofitallwasthatwhenJanvanderWeldecame，ashewasaccustomedtodonearlyeveryevening，toseeKoosje，MissTruide，fromsheerlongingforexcitementandchange，begantomakeeyesathim，withwhateffectIwillendeavourtoshow。
JustatfirstKoosjenoticednothing。Sheherselfwasofsofaithfulanaturethatanidea，asuspicion，ofJan’sfaithlessnessneverenteredhermind。Whenthegirllaughedandblushedanddimpledandsmiled，whenshecasthergreatblueeyesatthebigyoungfellow，Koosjeonlythoughthowprettyshewas，anditwasmustathousandpitiesshehadnotbeenbornagreatlady。
Andthusweeksslippedover。Neververydemonstrativeherself，Koosjesawnothing，Dortje，forherpart，sawagreatdeal;butDortjewasawomanoffewwords，onewhoquitebelievedinthesaying，"Ifspeechissilver，silenceisgold;"sosheheldherpeace。
NowTruide，renderedfairlyfranticbyherenforcedconfinementtothehouse，grewtolookuponJanasheronlychanceofexcitementanddistraction;andJan，poor，thick-headednoodleofsixfeethigh，wasthoroughlywretched。Whattodoheknewnot。Astrange，mad，fiercepassionforTruidehadtakenpossessionofhim，andanutterdistaste，almostdislike，hadcomeinplaceoftheoldloveforKoosje。Truidewasunlikeanythinghehadevercomeincontactwithbefore;shewassofairy-like，solight，sodelicate，sodainty。AgainstKoosje’splumper，maturercharms，sheappearedtotheinfatuatedyoungmanlike——ifhehadeverheardofithewouldprobablyhavesaidlikeaDresdenchinaimage;butsincehehadnot，hecomparedherinhisownfoolishhearttoanangel。Herfeetweresotiny，herhandssosoft，hereyessoexpressive，herwaistsoslim，hermannersobewitching！
SomehowKoosjewasaltogetherdifferent;hecouldnotendurethetouchofherheavyhand，thetonesofherlessrefinedvoice;hegrewimpatientatthedenserperceptionsofhermind。Itwasveryfoolish，veryshort-sighted;forthehands，thoughheavy，werecleverandwilling;thevoice，thoughatriflecoarserinaccentthanTruide’schildishtones，wouldnevertellhimalie;theperceptions，thoughnotbrilliant，weretheperceptionsofgood，every-daycommonsense。
Itreallywasveryfoolish，forwhatcharmedhimmostinTruidewasthemerestoutsidepolish，acertaineaseofmannerwhichdoubtlessshehadcaughtfromtheEnglisharistocratswhomshehadknowninhernativeplace。ShehadnothalfthesterlinggoodqualitiesandsteadfastnessofKoosje;butJanwasinlove，anddidnotstoptoarguethematterasyouorIareabletodo。Meninlove——verywiseandgreatmen，too——areoftenlikeJanvanderWelde。Theylayasideprotem。thewholeamount，beitgreatorsmall，ofwisdomtheypossess。AnditmustberememberedthatJanvanderWeldewasneitherawisenoragreatman。
Well，intheendtherecamewhattheFrenchcall/undenouement/，——
whatweinforciblemodernEnglishwouldcalla/smash/，——andithappenedthus。ItwasoneeveningtowardthesummerthatKoosje’seyesweresuddenlyopened，andshebecameawareofthefree-and-easyfamiliarityofTruide’smannertowardherbetrothedlover，Jan。Itwassomeveryslightandtrivialthingthatledhertonoticeit，butinaninstantthewholetruthflashedacrosshermind。
"Leavethekitchen！"shesaid，inatoneofauthority。
Butithappenedthat，attheveryinstantshespoke，JanwasfurtivelyholdingTruide’sfingersunderthecoverofthetable-cloth;andwhen，onhearingthesharpwords，thegirlwouldhavesnatchedthemaway，he，withtruemasculineinstinctofopposition，heldthemfast。
"Whatdoyoumeanbyspeakingtoherlikethat？"hedemanded，anangryflushoverspreadinghisdarkface。
"Whatisthemaidtoyou？"Koosjeasked，indignantly。
"Maybemorethanyouare，"heretorted;inanswertowhichKoosjedeliberatelymarchedoutofthekitchen，leavingthemalone。
Tosayshewasindignantwouldbebutverymildlytoexpressthestateofherfeelings;shewas/furious/。Sheknewthattheendofherromancehadcome。NothoughtsofmakingfriendswithJanenteredhermind;onlyagreatstormfilledherhearttillitwasreadytoburstwithpainandanguish。
Asshewentalongthepassagetheprofessor’sbellsounded，andKoosje，beingclosetothedoor，wentabruptlyin。Theprofessorlookedupinmildastonishment，quicklyenoughchangedtodismayashecaughtsightofhisvaluedKoosje’sface，fromoutofwhichangerseemedinamomenttohavethrustallthebright，comelybeauty。
"Hownow，mygoodKoosje？"saidtheoldgentleman。"Isaughtamiss？"
"Yes，professor，thereis，"returnedKoosje，allinablazeofanger，andmoving，asshespoke，thetea-tray，whichshesetdownupontheoakenbuffetwithabang，whichmadeitsfairanddelicatefreightfairlyjingleagain。
"Butyouneedn’tbreakmychina，Koosje，"suggestedtheoldgentleman，mildly，risingfromhischairandgettingintohisfavouriteattitudebeforethestove。
"Youarequiteright，professor，"returnedKoosje，curtly;shewassensibleeveninhertrouble。
"Andwhatisthetrouble？"heasked，gently。
"It’sjustthis，professor，"criedKoosje，settingherarmsakimboandspeakinginahigh-pitched，shrillvoice;"youandIhavebeenwarmingaviperinourbosoms，and，viper-like，shehasturnedroundandbittenme。"
"IsitTruide？"
"Truide，"sheaffirmed，disdainfully。"Yes，itisTruide，whobutformewouldbedeadnowofhungerandcold——or/worse/。Andshehasbeenmakinglovetothatgreatfool，JanvanderWelde，——greatoafthatheis，——afterallIhavedoneforher;aftermydraggingherinoutofthecoldandrain;afterallIhavetaughther。Ah，professor，butitisavile，venomousviperthatwehavebeenwarminginourbosoms！"
"Imustbeg，Koosje，"saidtheoldgentleman，sedately，"thatyouwillexoneratemefromanysuchproceeding。Ifyourememberrightly，Iwasaltogetheragainstyourplanforkeepingherinthehouse。"Hecouldnotresistgivingherthatlittledig，kindofheartashewas。
"Servesmerightforbeingsosoft-hearted！"thunderedKoosje。"I’llbewisernexttimeIfalloverabundle，andleaveitwhereIfindit。"
"No，no，Koosje;don’tsaythat，"theoldgentlemanremonstrated，gently。"Afterall，itmaybebutablessingindisguise。Godsendsallourtrialsforsomegoodandwisepurpose。Ourheaviestafflictionsareoften，nay，mosttimes，Koosje，meanstosomegreatendwhich，whilethecloudofadversityhangsoverus，weareunabletodiscern。"
"Ah！"sniffedKoosje，scornfully。
"Thisoaf——asImustsayyoujustlytermhim，foryouareagoodcleverwoman，Koosje，asIcantestifyaftertheexperienceofyears——
hasprovedthathecanbefalse;hehasshownthathecanthrowawaysubstanceforshadow（for，ofatruth，thatpoor，prettychildwouldmakeasadwifeforapoorman）;yetitisbetteryoushouldknowitnowthanatsomefuturedate，when——whentheremightbeothertiestomaketheknowledgemorebittertoyou。"
"Yes，thatistrue，"saidKoosje，passingthebackofherhandacrosshertremblinglips。Shecouldnotshedtearsoverhertrouble;hereyesweredryandburning，asifangerhadscorchedtheblesseddropsuperetheyshouldfall。Shewentonwashingupthecupsandsaucers，oratleast/the/cupandsaucer，andotherarticlestheprofessorhadusedforhistea;andafterafewminutes’silencehespokeagain。
"Whatareyougoingtodo？Punishher，orturnherout，orwhat？"
"Ishalllethim——/marry/her，"repliedKoosje，withaportentousnod。
Theoldgentlemancouldn’thelplaughing。"Youthinkhewillpayoffyouroldscores？"
"Beforelong，"answeredKoosje，grimly，"shewillfindhimout——asI
havedone。"
Then，havingfinishedwashingthetea-things，whichtheprofessorhadshudderedtobeholdinherangryhands，shewhirledherselfoutoftheroomandlefthimalone。
"Oh，thesewomen——thesewomen！"hecried，inconfidence，tothepicturesandskeletons。"Whataworrytheyare！Anoldbachelorhasthebestofitinthemain，Idobelieve。Butoh，JanvanderWelde，whatadonkeyyoumustbetogetyourselfmixedupinsuchabroil！
andyet——ah！"
Thefossilisedoldgentlemanbrokeoffwithasighasherecalledthememoryofacertaindead-and-goneromancewhichhadhappened——goodnessonlyknowshowmanyyearsbefore——whenhe，likeJanvanderWelde，wouldhavethrowntheworldawayforaglanceofacertainpairofblueeyes，atthebiddingofacertainEnglishtongue，whosebroken/Nederlandschetaal/wastohimthesweetestmusiceverheardonearth——sweetereventhanthestrainsoftheStradivariwhenfromunderhisskilfulfingersrosetheperfectmelodiesofoldmasters。Ay，butthesweeteyeshadbeenclosedindeathmanyalong，long，year，thesweetvoicehushedinsilence。Hehadwatchedthedearlifeebbaway，thefireintheblueeyesfadeout。Hehadfelteachdaythattheclaspofthelittlegreetingfingerswaslessclose;eachdayhehadseentheoutlineofthefacegrowsharper;andatlasttherehadcomeonewhenthepoorlittleEnglish-womanmethimwiththegazeofonewhoknewhimnot，andbabbled，notofgreenfields，butofhorsesanddogs，andofabrotherJack，who，fiveyearsbefore，hadgonedownwithherMajesty’sship/Alligator/inmid-Atlantic。
Ay，butthatwasmanyandmanyayearagone。Hisyoung，blue-eyedlovestoodoutaloneinlife’shistory，athingapart。Ofthegentlersex，inageneralway，theoldprofessorhadnotseenthatwhichhadraiseditinhisestimationtotheleveloftheonewomanoverwhosememoryhungabrighthaloofromance。
Fifteenyearshadpassedaway;theoldprofessorofosteologyhadpassedawaywiththem;andinthelargehouseontheDompleinlivedabaron，withhalfadozennoisy，happy，healthychildren，——young/fraulas/and/jonkheers/，——whoscamperedupanddownthemarblepassages，andfellheadlongdownthesteep，narrow，unlightedstairways，totheimminentdangerofdislocatingtheiraristocraticlittlenecks。Therewasanewraceofneatmaids，cladinthesameneatliveryoflilacandblack，whoscouredandcleaned，justasKoosjeandDortjehaddoneintheoldprofessor’sday。Youmight，indeed，haveheardtheselfsamenamesresoundingthroughtheechoingrooms："Koos-je！Dort-je！"
ButtheKoosjeandDortjewerenotthesame。WhathadbecomeofDortjeIcannotsay;butontheleft-handsideofthebusy，bustling，picturesqueOudeGrachttherewasahandsomeshopfilledwithallmannerofcakes，sweeties，confections，andliquors——fromabsinthetoBenedictine，orarracktochartreuse。Inthatshopwasahandsome，prosperous，middle-agedwoman，welldressedandwellmannered，nolongerProfessorvanDijck’sKoosje，buttheJevrouwvanKampen。
Yes;Koosjehadcometobeaprosperoustradeswomanofgoodposition，respectedbyall。ButshewasKoosjevanKampenstill;theromancewhichhadcometosodisastrousandabruptanendhadsufficedforherlife。Manyanofferhadbeenmadetoher，itistrue;butshehadalwaysdeclaredthatshehadhadenoughoflovers——shehadfoundouttheirrealvalue。
ImusttellyouthatatthetimeofJan’sinfidelity，afterthefirstflushofragewasover，Koosjedisdainedtoshowanysignofgrieforregret。Shewasveryproud，thisNetherlandservant-maid，fartooproudtoletthosebywhomshewassurroundedimagineshewaswearingthewillowforthefaithlessJan;andwhenDortje，onthedayofthewedding，remarkedthatforherpartshehadalwaysconsideredKoosjeremarkablycoolonthesubjectofmatrimony，Koosjewithacarelessout-turningofherhands，palmsuppermost，answeredthatshewasright。
VerysoonaftertheirmarriageJanandhisyoungwifeleftUtrechtforArnheim，whereJanhadpromiseofhigherwages;andthustheypassed，asKoosjethought，completelyoutofherlife。
"Idon’twishtohearanythingmoreaboutthem，if——you——please，"shesaid，severelyandemphatically，toDortje。
Butnotso。Intimetheprofessordied，leavingKoosjethelargelegacywithwhichshesetupthehandsomeshopintheOudeGracht;andseveralyearspassedon。
IthappenedonedaythatKoosjewassittinginhershopsewing。Inthelargeinnerroomapartyofladiesandofficerswereeatingcakesanddrinkingchocolatesandliquorswithagooddealoffunandlaughter，whenthedooropenedtimidly，therebylettinginagustofbitterwind，andawomancreptfearfullyin，followedbytwosmall，cryingchildren。
Couldtheladygivehersomethingtoeat？sheasked;theyhadhadnothingduringtheday，andthelittleoneswerealmostfamished。
Koosje，whowasverycharitable，liftedatrayoflarge，plainbuns，andwasabouttogivehersome，whenhereyesfelluponthepoorbeggar’sfadedface，andsheexclaimed：
"Truide！"
Truide，foritwasshe，lookedupinstartledsurprise。
"Ididnotknow，orIwouldnothavecomein，Koosje，"shesaid，humbly;"forItreatedyouverybadly。"
"Ve-rybad-ly，"returnedKoosje，emphatically。"ThenwhereisJan？"
"Dead！"murmuredTruide，sadly。
"Dead！so——ah，well！IsupposeImustdosomethingforyou。HereYanke！"openingthedoorandcalling，"Yanke！"
"/Je，jevrouw/，"avoicecried，inreply。
Thenextmomentamaidcamerunningintotheshop。
"Takethesepeopleintothekitchenandgivethemsomethingtoeat。
Putthembythestovewhileyouprepareit。Thereissomesoupandthatsmokedhamwehadfor/koffy/。Thencomehereandtakemyplaceforawhile。"
"/Je，jevrouw/，"saidYanke，disappearingagain，followedbyTruideandherchildren。
ThenKoosjesatdownagain，andbegantothink。
"Isaid，"shemused，presently，"/that/nightthatthenexttimeI
felloverabundleI’dleaveitwhereIfoundit。Ah，well！I’mnotabarbarian;Icouldn’tdothat。Ineverthought，though，itwouldbeTruide。"
"/Hi，jevrouw/，"wascalledfromtheinnerroom。
"/Je，mynheer/，"jumpingupandgoingtohercustomers。
Sheattendedtotheirwants，andpresentlybowedthemout。
"IneverthoughtitwouldbeTruide，"sherepeatedtoherself，assheclosedthedoorbehindthelastofthegayuniformsandjinglingscabbards。"AndJanisdead——ah，well！"
Thenshewentintothekitchen，wherethemiserablechildren——girlsbothofthem，andprettyhadtheybeencleanandlessforlornlyclad——
wereplayingaboutthestove。
"SoJanisdead，"beganKoosje，seatingherself。
"Yes，Janisdead，"Truideanswered。
"Andheleftyounothing？"Koosjeasked。
"Wehadhadnothingforalongtime，"Truidereplied，inhersad，crushedvoice。"Wedidn’tgetonverywell;hesoongottiredofme。"
"Thatwasaweaknessofhis，"remarkedKoosje，drily。
"Welostfivelittleones，oneafteranother，"Truidecontinued。"AndJanwasfondofthem，andsomehowitseemedtosourhim。Asforme，I
wassorryenoughatthetime，Heavenknows，butitwasaswell。ButJansaiditseemedasifacursehadfallenuponus;hebegantowishyoubackagain，andtoblamemeforhavingcomebetweenyou。Andthenhetookto/genever/，andthentowishforsomethingstronger;soatlasteverystiverwentforabsinthe，andonceortwicehebeatme，andthenhedied。"
"Justaswell，"mutteredKoosje，underherbreath。
"Itisverygoodofyoutohavefedandwarmedus，"Truidewenton，inherfaint，complainingtones。"Manyaonewouldhaveletmestarve，andIshouldhavedeservedit。Itisverygoodofyouandwearegrateful;but’tistimeweweregoing，KoosjeandMina;"thenadded，withashakeofherhead，"butIdon’tknowwhere。"
"Oh，you’dbetterstay，"saidKoosje，hurriedly。"Iliveinthisbighousebymyself，andIdaresayyou’llbemoreusefulintheshopthanYanke——ifyourtongueisasglibasitusedtobe，thatis。YouknowsomeEnglish，too，don’tyou？"
"Alittle，"Truideanswered，eagerly。
"Andafterall，"Koosjesaid，philosophically，shrugginghershoulders，"yousavedmefromthebeatingsandthestarvingsandtherest。Ioweyousomethingforthat。Why，ifithadn’tbeenforyouI
shouldhavebeensillyenoughtohavemarriedhim。"
Andthenshewentbacktohershop，sayingtoherself：
"Theprofessorsaiditwasablessingindisguise;Godsendsallourtrialstoworksomegreatpurpose。Yes;thatwaswhathesaid，andheknewmostthings。JustthinkifIweretrailingaboutnowwiththosetwolittleones，withnothingtolookbacktobutaschnapps-drinkinghusbandwhobeatme！Ah，well，well！thingsarebestastheyare。I
don’tknowthatIoughtnottobeverymuchobligedtoher——andshe’llbeveryusefulintheshop。"
ADOGOFFLANDERS
byOUIDA
NelloandPatraschewereleftallaloneintheworld。
Theywerefriendsinafriendshipcloserthanbrotherhood。NellowasalittleArdennois;PatraschewasabigFleming。Theywerebothofthesameagebylengthofyears;yetonewasstillyoung，andtheotherwasalreadyold。Theyhaddwelttogetheralmostalltheirdays;bothwereorphanedanddestitute，andowedtheirlivestothesamehand。Ithadbeenthebeginningofthetiebetweenthem，——theirfirstbondofsympathy，——andithadstrengtheneddaybyday，andhadgrownwiththeirgrowth，firmandindissoluble，untiltheylovedoneanotherverygreatly。
Theirhomewasalittlehutontheedgeofalittlevillage——aFlemishvillagealeaguefromAntwerp，setamidstflatbreadthsofpastureandcorn-lands，withlonglinesofpoplarsandofaldersbendinginthebreezeontheedgeofthegreatcanalwhichranthroughit。Ithadaboutascoreofhousesandhomesteads，withshuttersofbrightgreenorskyblue，androofsroseredorblackandwhite，andwallswhitewasheduntiltheyshoneinthesunlikesnow。Inthecentreofthevillagestoodawindmill，placedonalittlemoss-grownslope;itwasalandmarktoallthelevelcountryround。Ithadoncebeenpaintedscarlet，sailsandall;butthathadbeeninitsinfancy，halfacenturyormoreearlier，whenithadgroundwheatforthesoldiersofNapoleon;anditwasnowaruddybrown，tannedbywindandweather。
Itwentqueerlybyfitsandstarts，asthoughrheumaticandstiffinthejointsfromage;butitservedthewholeneighborhood，whichwouldhavethoughtitalmostasimpioustocarrygrainelsewhereastoattendanyotherreligiousservicethanthemassthatwasperformedatthealtarofthelittleoldgraychurch，withitsconicalsteeple，whichstoodoppositetoit，andwhosesinglebellrangmorning，noon，andnightwiththatstrange，subdued，hollowsadnesswhicheverybellthathangsintheLowCountriesseemstogainasanintegralpartofitsmelody。
Withinsoundofthelittlemelancholyclockalmostfromtheirbirthupward，theyhaddwelttogether，NelloandPatrasche，inthelittlehutontheedgeofthevillage，withthecathedralspireofAntwerprisinginthenortheast，beyondthegreatgreenplainofseedinggrassandspreadingcornthatstretchedawayfromthemlikeatideless，changelesssea。Itwasthehutofaveryoldman，ofaverypoorman——
ofoldJehanDaas，whoinhistimehadbeenasoldier，andwhorememberedthewarsthathadtrampledthecountryasoxentreaddownthefurrows，andwhohadbroughtfromhisservicenothingexceptawound，whichhadmadehimacripple。
WhenoldJehanDaashadreachedhisfulleighty，hisdaughterhaddiedintheArdennes，hardbyStavelot，andhadlefthiminlegacyhertwo-
year-oldson。Theoldmancouldillcontrivetosupporthimself，buthetookuptheadditionalburdenuncomplainingly，anditsoonbecamewelcomeandprecioustohim。LittleNello，whichwasbutapetdiminutiveforNicolas，throvewithhim，andtheoldmanandthelittlechildlivedinthepoorlittlehutcontentedly。
Itwasaveryhumblelittlemudhutindeed，butitwascleanandwhiteasasea-shell，andstoodinasmallplotofgardengroundthatyieldedbeansandherbsandpumpkins。Theywereverypoor，terriblypoor;manyadaytheyhadnothingatalltoeat。Theyneverbyanychancehadenough;tohavehadenoughtoeatwouldhavebeentohavereachedparadiseatonce。Buttheoldmanwasverygentleandgoodtotheboy，andtheboywasabeautiful，innocent，truthful，tender-
naturedcreature;andtheywerehappyonacrustandafewleavesofcabbage，andaskednomoreofearthorheaven——saveindeedthatPatrascheshouldbealwayswiththem，sincewithoutPatraschewherewouldtheyhavebeen？
ForPatraschewastheiralphaandomega;theirtreasuryandgranary;
theirstoreofgoldandwandofwealth;theirbread-winnerandminister;theironlyfriendandcomforter。Patraschedeadorgonefromthem，theymusthavelaidthemselvesdownanddiedlikewise。Patraschewasbody，brains，hands，head，andfeettobothofthem;Patraschewastheirverylife，theirverysoul。ForJehanDaaswasoldandacripple，andNellowasbutachild;andPatraschewastheirdog。
AdogofFlanders——yellowofhide，largeofheadandlimb，withwolf-
likeearsthatstooderect，andlegsbowedandfeetwidenedinthemusculardevelopmentwroughtinhisbreedbymanygenerationsofhardservice。PatraschecameofaracewhichhadtoiledhardandcruellyfromsiretosoninFlandersmanyacentury——slavesofslaves，dogsofthepeople，beastsoftheshaftsandtheharness，creaturesthatlivedstrainingtheirsinewsinthegallofthecart，anddiedbreakingtheirheartsontheflintsofthestreets。
Patraschehadbeenbornofparentswhohadlaboredhardalltheirdaysoverthesharp-setstonesofthevariouscitiesandthelong，shadowless，wearyroadsofthetwoFlandersandofBrabant。Hehadbeenborntonootherheritagethanthoseofpainandoftoil。Hehadbeenfedoncursesandbaptizedwithblows。Whynot？ItwasaChristiancountry，andPatraschewasbutadog。Beforehewasfullygrownhehadknownthebittergallofthecartandthecollar。Beforehehadenteredhisthirteenthmonthhehadbecomethepropertyofahardwaredealer，whowasaccustomedtowanderoverthelandnorthandsouth，fromtheblueseatothegreenmountains。Theysoldhimforasmallprice，becausehewassoyoung。
Thismanwasadrunkardandabrute。ThelifeofPatraschewasalifeofhell。TodealthetorturesofhellontheanimalcreationisawaywhichtheChristianshaveofshowingtheirbeliefinit。Hispurchaserwasasullen，ill-living，brutalBrabantois，whoheapedhiscartfullwithpotsandpansandflagonsandbuckets，andotherwaresofcrockeryandbrassandtin，andleftPatraschetodrawtheloadasbesthemight，whilehehimselfloungedidlybythesideinfatandsluggishease，smokinghisblackpipeandstoppingateverywineshoporcafeontheroad。
HappilyforPatrasche，orunhappily，hewasverystrong;hecameofanironrace，longbornandbredtosuchcrueltravail;sothathedidnotdie，butmanagedtodragonawretchedexistenceunderthebrutalburdens，thescarifyinglashes，thehunger，thethirst，theblows，thecurses，andtheexhaustionwhicharetheonlywageswithwhichtheFlemingsrepaythemostpatientandlaboriousofalltheirfour-footedvictims。Oneday，aftertwoyearsofthislonganddeadlyagony，Patraschewasgoingonasusualalongoneofthestraight，dusty，unlovelyroadsthatleadtothecityofRubens。Itwasfullmidsummer，andverywarm。Hiscartwasveryheavy，piledhighwithgoodsinmetalandinearthenware。Hisownersaunteredonwithoutnoticinghimotherwisethanbythecrackofthewhipasitcurledroundhisquiveringloins。TheBrabantoishadpausedtodrinkbeerhimselfateverywaysidehouse，buthehadforbiddenPatraschetostopamomentforadraughtfromthecanal。Goingalongthus，inthefullsun，onascorchinghighway，havingeatennothingfortwenty-fourhours，and，whichwasfarworsetohim，nothavingtastedwaterforneartwelve，beingblindwithdust，sorewithblows，andstupefiedwiththemercilessweightwhichdraggeduponhisloins，Patraschestaggeredandfoamedalittleatthemouth，andfell。
Hefellinthemiddleofthewhite，dustyroad，inthefullglareofthesun;hewassickuntodeath，andmotionless。Hismastergavehimtheonlymedicineinhispharmacy——kicksandoathsandblowswithacudgelofoak，whichhadbeenoftentheonlyfoodanddrink，theonlywageandreward，everofferedtohim。ButPatraschewasbeyondthereachofanytortureorofanycurses。Patraschelay，deadtoallappearances，downinthewhitepowderofthesummerdust。Afterawhile，findingituselesstoassailhisribswithpunishmentandhisearswithmaledictions，theBrabantois——deeminglifegoneinhim，orgoing，sonearlythathiscarcasswasforeveruseless，unless，indeed，someoneshouldstripitoftheskinforgloves——cursedhimfiercelyinfarewell，struckofftheleathernbandsoftheharness，kickedhisbodyasideintothegrass，and，groaningandmutteringinsavagewrath，pushedthecartlazilyalongtheroaduphill，andleftthedyingdogfortheantstostingandforthecrowstopick。
ItwasthelastdaybeforekermessawayatLouvain，andtheBrabantoiswasinhastetoreachthefairandgetagoodplaceforhistruckofbrasswares。Hewasinfiercewrath，becausePatraschehadbeenastrongandmuch-enduringanimal，andbecausehehimselfhadnowthehardtaskofpushinghis/charette/allthewaytoLouvain。ButtostaytolookafterPatrascheneverenteredhisthoughts;thebeastwasdyinganduseless，andhewouldsteal，toreplacehim，thefirstlargedogthathefoundwanderingaloneoutofsightofitsmaster。
Patraschehadcosthimnothing，ornexttonothing，andfortwolong，cruelyearshehadmadehimtoilceaselesslyinhisservicefromsunrisetosunset，throughsummerandwinter，infairweatherandfoul。
HehadgotafairuseandagoodprofitoutofPatrasche;beinghuman，hewaswise，andleftthedogtodrawhislastbreathaloneintheditch，andhavehisbloodshoteyespluckedoutastheymightbebythebirds，whilsthehimselfwentonhiswaytobegandtosteal，toeatandtodrink，todanceandtosing，inthemirthatLouvain。Adyingdog，adogofthecart——whyshouldhewastehoursoveritsagoniesatperiloflosingahandfulofcoppercoins，atperilofashoutoflaughter？
Patraschelaythere，flunginthegrass-greenditch。Itwasabusyroadthatday，andhundredsofpeople，onfootandonmules，inwaggonsorincarts，wentby，trampingquicklyandjoyouslyontoLouvain。Somesawhim;mostdidnotevenlook;allpassedon。Adeaddogmoreorless——itwasnothinginBrabant;itwouldbenothinganywhereintheworld。
Afteratime，amongtheholiday-makers，therecamealittleoldmanwhowasbentandlame，andveryfeeble。Hewasinnoguiseforfeasting;hewasverypoorlyandmiserablyclad，andhedraggedhissilentwayslowlythroughthedustamongthepleasure-seekers。HelookedatPatrasche，paused，wondered，turnedaside，thenkneeleddownintherankgrassandweedsoftheditch，andsurveyedthedogwithkindlyeyesofpity。Therewaswithhimalittlerosy，fair-haired，dark-eyedchildofafewyearsold，whopatteredinamidthebushes，thatwereforhimbreast-high，andstoodgazingwithaprettyseriousnessuponthepoor，great，quietbeast。
Thusitwasthatthesetwofirstmet——thelittleNelloandthebigPatrasche。
Theupshotofthatdaywas，thatoldJehanDaas，withmuchlaboriouseffort，drewthesuffererhomewardtohisownlittlehut，whichwasastone’sthrowoffamidstthefields;andtheretendedhimwithsomuchcarethatthesickness，whichhadbeenabrainseizurebroughtonbyheatandthirstandexhaustion，withtimeandshadeandrestpassedaway，andhealthandstrengthreturned，andPatraschestaggeredupagainuponhisfourstout，tawnylegs。
Nowformanyweekshehadbeenuseless，powerless，sore，neartodeath;butallthistimehehadheardnoroughword，hadfeltnoharshtouch，butonlythepityingmurmursofthechild’svoiceandthesoothingcaressoftheoldman’shand。
Inhissicknesstheytwohadgrowntocareforhim，thislonelymanandthelittlehappychild。Hehadacornerofthehut，withaheapofdrygrassforhisbed;andtheyhadlearnedtolisteneagerlyforhisbreathinginthedarknight，totellthemthathelived;andwhenhefirstwaswellenoughtoessayaloud，hollow，brokenbay，theylaughedaloud，andalmostwepttogetherforjoyatsuchasignofhissurerestoration;andlittleNello，indelightedglee，hungroundhisruggedneckchainsofmarguerites，andkissedhimwithfreshandruddylips。
Sothen，whenPatraschearose，himselfagain，strong，big，gaunt，powerful，hisgreatwistfuleyeshadagentleastonishmentinthemthattherewerenocursestorousehimandnoblowstodrivehim;andhisheartawakenedtoamightylove，whichneverwaveredonceinitsfidelitywhilelifeabodewithhim。
ButPatrasche，beingadog，wasgrateful。Patraschelayponderinglongwithgrave，tender，musingbrowneyes，watchingthemovementsofhisfriends。
Now，theoldsoldier，JehanDaas，coulddonothingforhislivingbutlimpaboutalittlewithasmallcart，withwhichhecarrieddailythemilk-cansofthosehappierneighbourswhoownedcattleawayintothetownofAntwerp。Thevillagersgavehimtheemploymentalittleoutofcharity;morebecauseitsuitedthemwelltosendtheirmilkintothetownbysohonestacarrier，andbideathomethemselvestolookaftertheirgardens，theircows，theirpoultry，ortheirlittlefields。Butitwasbecominghardworkfortheoldman。Hewaseighty-three，andAntwerpwasagoodleagueoff，ormore。
Patraschewatchedthemilk-canscomeandgothatonedaywhenhehadgotwellandwaslyinginthesunwiththewreathofmargueritesroundhistawnyneck。
Thenextmorning，Patrasche，beforetheoldmanhadtouchedthecart，aroseandwalkedtoitandplacedhimselfbetwixtitshandles，andtestifiedasplainlyasdumb-showcoulddohisdesireandhisabilitytoworkinreturnforthebreadofcharitythathehadeaten。JehanDaasresistedlong，fortheoldmanwasoneofthosewhothoughtitafoulshametobinddogstolaborforwhichNatureneverformedthem。
ButPatraschewouldnotbegainsaid;findingtheydidnotharnesshim，hetriedtodrawthecartonwardwithhisteeth。
AtlengthJehanDaasgaveway，vanquishedbythepersistenceandthegratitudeofthiscreaturewhomhehadsuccored。HefashionedhiscartsothatPatraschecouldruninit，andthishedideverymorningofhislifethenceforward。
Whenthewintercame，JehanDaasthankedtheblessedfortunethathadbroughthimtothedyingdogintheditchthatfair-dayofLouvain;
forhewasveryold，andhegrewfeeblerwitheachyear，andhewouldillhaveknownhowtopullhisloadofmilk-cansoverthesnowsandthroughthedeeprutsinthemudifithadnotbeenforthestrengthandtheindustryoftheanimalhehadbefriended。AsforPatrasche，itseemedheaventohim。Afterthefrightfulburdensthathisoldmasterhadcompelledhimtostrainunder，atthecallofthewhipateverystep，itseemednothingtohimbutamusementtostepoutwiththislittlelight，greencart，withitsbrightbrasscans，bythesideofthegentleoldmanwhoalwayspaidhimwithatendercaressandwithakindlyword。Besides，hisworkwasoverbythreeorfourintheday，andafterthattimehewasfreetodoashewould——tostretchhimself，tosleepinthesun，towanderinthefields，torompwiththeyoungchild，ortoplaywithhisfellow-dogs。Patraschewasveryhappy。
Fortunatelyforhispeace，hisformerownerwaskilledinadrunkenbrawlatthekermessofMechlin，andsosoughtnotafterhimnordisturbedhiminhisnewandwell-lovedhome。
Afewyearslater，oldJehanDaas，whohadalwaysbeenacripple，becamesoparalyzedwithrheumatismthatitwasimpossibleforhimtogooutwiththecartanymore。ThenlittleNello，beingnowgrowntohissixthyearofage，andknowingthetownwellfromhavingaccompaniedhisgrandfathersomanytimes，tookhisplacebesidethecart，andsoldthemilkandreceivedthecoinsinexchange，andbroughtthembacktotheirrespectiveownerswithaprettygraceandseriousnesswhichcharmedallwhobeheldhim。
ThelittleArdennoiswasabeautifulchild，withdark，grave，tendereyes，andalovelybloomuponhisface，andfairlocksthatclusteredtohisthroat;andmanyanartistsketchedthegroupasitwentbyhim——thegreencartwiththebrassflagonsofTeniersandMierisandVanTal，andthegreat，tawny-colored，massivedog，withhisbelledharnessthatchimedcheerilyashewent，andthesmallfigurethatranbesidehimwhichhadlittlewhitefeetingreatwoodenshoes，andasoft，grave，innocent，happyfacelikethelittlefairchildrenofRubens。
NelloandPatraschedidtheworksowellandsojoyfullytogetherthatJehanDaashimself，whenthesummercameandhewasbetteragain，hadnoneedtostirout，butcouldsitinthedoorwayinthesunandseethemgoforththroughthegardenwicket，andthendozeanddreamandprayalittle，andthenawakeagainastheclocktolledthreeandwatchfortheirreturn。AndontheirreturnPatraschewouldshakehimselffreeofhisharnesswithabayofglee，andNellowouldrecountwithpridethedoingsoftheday;andtheywouldallgointogethertotheirmealofryebreadandmilkorsoup，andwouldseetheshadowslengthenoverthegreatplain，andseethetwilightveilthefaircathedralspire;andthenliedowntogethertosleeppeacefullywhiletheoldmansaidaprayer。
Sothedaysandtheyearswenton，andthelivesofNelloandPatraschewerehappy，innocent，andhealthful。
Inthespringandsummerespeciallyweretheyglad。Flandersisnotalovelyland，andaroundtheburgofRubensitisperhapsleastlovelyofall。Cornandcolza，pastureandplough，succeedeachotheronthecharacterlessplaininwearyingrepetition，and，savebysomegauntgraytower，withitspealofpatheticbells，orsomefigurecomingathwartthefields，madepicturesquebyagleaner’sbundleorawoodman’sfagot，thereisnochange，novariety，nobeautyanywhere;
andhewhohasdweltuponthemountainsoramidtheforestsfeelsoppressedasbyimprisonmentwiththetediumandtheendlessnessofthatvastanddrearylevel。Butitisgreenandveryfertile，andithaswidehorizonsthathaveacertaincharmoftheirownevenintheirdulnessandmonotony;andamongtherushesbythewatersidetheflowersgrow，andthetreesrisetallandfreshwherethebargesglide，withtheirgreathulksblackagainstthesun，andtheirlittlegreenbarrelsandvari-colouredflagsgayagainsttheleaves。Anyway，thereisgreeneryandbreadthofspaceenoughtobeasgoodasbeautytoachildandadog;andthesetwoaskednobetter，whentheirworkwasdone，thantolieburiedinthelushgrassesonthesideofthecanal，andwatchthecumbrousvesselsdriftingbyandbringingthecrispsaltsmelloftheseaamongtheblossomingscentsofthecountrysummer。
True，inthewinteritwasharder，andtheyhadtoriseinthedarknessandthebittercold，andtheyhadseldomasmuchastheycouldhaveeatenanyday;andthehutwasscarcebetterthanashedwhenthenightswerecold，althoughitlookedsoprettyinwarmweather，buriedinagreatkindlyclamberingvine，thatneverborefruit，indeed，butwhichcovereditwithluxuriantgreentraceryallthroughthemonthsofblossomandharvest。Inwinterthewindsfoundmanyholesinthewallsofthepoorlittlehut，andthevinewasblackandleafless，andthebarelandslookedverybleakanddrearwithout，andsometimeswithinthefloorwasfloodedandthenfrozen。Inwinteritwashard，andthesnownumbedthelittlewhitelimbsofNello，andtheiciclescutthebrave，untiringfeetofPatrasche。
Buteventhentheywereneverheardtolament，eitherofthem。Thechild’swoodenshoesandthedog’sfourlegswouldtrotmanfullytogetheroverthefrozenfieldstothechimeofthebellsontheharness;andthensometimes，inthestreetsofAntwerp，somehousewifewouldbringthemabowlofsoupandahandfulofbread，orsomekindlytraderwouldthrowsomebilletsoffuelintothelittlecartasitwenthomeward，orsomewomanintheirownvillagewouldbidthemkeepashareofthemilktheycarriedfortheirownfood;andtheywouldrunoverthewhitelands，throughtheearlydarkness，brightandhappy，andburstwithashoutofjoyintotheirhome。
So，onthewhole，itwaswellwiththem——verywell;andPatrasche，meetingonthehighwayorinthepublicstreetsthemanydogswhotoiledfromdaybreakintonightfall，paidonlywithblowsandcurses，andloosenedfromtheshaftswithakicktostarveandfreezeasbesttheymight——Patrascheinhisheartwasverygratefultohisfate，andthoughtitthefairestandthekindliesttheworldcouldhold。Thoughhewasoftenveryhungryindeedwhenhelaydownatnight;thoughhehadtoworkintheheatsofsummernoonsandtheraspingchillsofwinterdawns;thoughhisfeetwereoftentenderwithwoundsfromthesharpedgesofthejaggedpavement;thoughhehadtoperformtasksbeyondhisstrengthandagainsthisnature——yethewasgratefulandcontent;hedidhisdutywitheachday，andtheeyesthathelovedsmileddownonhim。ItwassufficientforPatrasche。
TherewasonlyonethingwhichcausedPatrascheanyuneasinessinhislife，anditwasthis。Antwerp，asalltheworldknows，isfullateveryturnofoldpilesofstones，darkandancientandmajestic，standingincrookedcourts，jammedagainstgatewaysandtaverns，risingbythewater’sedge，withbellsringingabovethemintheair，andeverandagainoutoftheirarcheddoorsaswellofmusicpealing。
Theretheyremain，thegrandoldsanctuariesofthepast，shutinamidthesqualor，thehurry，thecrowds，theunloveliness，andthecommerceofthemodernworld;andalldaylongthecloudsdriftandthebirdscircleandthewindssigharoundthem，andbeneaththeearthattheirfeettheresleeps——RUBENS。
AndthegreatnessofthemightymasterstillrestsuponAntwerp，andwhereverweturninitsnarrowstreetshisgloryliestherein，sothatallmeanthingsaretherebytransfigured;andaswepaceslowlythroughthewindingways，andbytheedgeofthestagnantwater，andthroughthenoisomecourts，hisspiritabideswithus，andtheheroicbeautyofhisvisionsisaboutus，andthestonesthatoncefelthisfootstepsandborehisshadowseemtoariseandspeakofhimwithlivingvoices。ForthecitywhichisthetombofRubensstilllivestousthroughhim，andhimalone。
Itissoquiettherebythatgreatwhitesepulchre——soquiet，saveonlywhentheorganpealsandthechoircriesaloudtheSalveReginaortheKyrieeleison。SurenoartisteverhadagreatergravestonethanthatpuremarblesanctuarygivestohimintheheartofhisbirthplaceinthechancelofSt。Jacques。
WithoutRubens，whatwereAntwerp？Adirty，dusky，bustlingmart，whichnomanwouldevercaretolookuponsavethetraderswhodobusinessonitswharves。WithRubens，tothewholeworldofmenitisasacredname，asacredsoil，aBethlehemwhereagodofartsawlight，aGolgothawhereagodofartliesdead。
Onations！closelyshouldyoutreasureyourgreatmen;forbythemalonewillthefutureknowofyou。Flandersinhergenerationshasbeenwise。Inhislifesheglorifiedthisgreatestofhersons，andinhisdeathshemagnifieshisname。Butherwisdomisveryrare。
Now，thetroubleofPatraschewasthis。Intothesegreat，sadpilesofstones，thatrearedtheirmelancholymajestyabovethecrowdedroofs，thechildNellowouldmanyandmanyatimeenter，anddisappearthroughtheirdark，archedportals，whilePatrasche，leftwithoutuponthepavement，wouldwearilyandvainlyponderonwhatcouldbethecharmwhichthusalluredfromhimhisinseparableandbelovedcompanion。Onceortwicehedidessaytoseeforhimself，clatteringupthestepswithhismilk-cartbehindhim;butthereonhehadbeenalwayssentbackagainsummarilybyatallcustodianinblackclothesandsilverchainsofoffice;andfearfulofbringinghislittlemasterintotrouble，hedesisted，andremainedcouchedpatientlybeforethechurchesuntilsuchtimeastheboyreappeared。ItwasnotthefactofhisgoingintothemwhichdisturbedPatrasche;heknewthatpeoplewenttochurch;allthevillagewenttothesmall，tumble-down，graypileoppositetheredwindmill。WhattroubledhimwasthatlittleNelloalwayslookedstrangelywhenhecameout，alwaysveryflushedorverypale;andwheneverhereturnedhomeaftersuchvisitationswouldsitsilentanddreaming，notcaringtoplay，butgazingoutattheeveningskiesbeyondthelineofthecanal，verysubduedandalmostsad。
Whatwasit？wonderedPatrasche。Hethoughtitcouldnotbegoodornaturalforthelittleladtobesograve，andinhisdumbfashionhetriedallhecouldtokeepNellobyhiminthesunnyfieldsorinthebusymarket-place。ButtothechurchesNellowouldgo;mostoftenofallwouldhegotothegreatcathedral;andPatrasche，leftwithoutonthestonesbytheironfragmentsofQuentinMatsys’sgate，wouldstretchhimselfandyawnandsigh，andevenhowlnowandthen，allinvain，untilthedoorsclosedandthechildperforcecameforthagain，andwindinghisarmsaboutthedog’sneckwouldkisshimonhisbroad，tawny-coloredforehead，andmurmuralwaysthesamewords，"IfIcouldonlyseethem，Patrasche！——ifIcouldonlyseethem！"
Whatwerethey？ponderedPatrasche，lookingupwithlarge，wistful，sympatheticeyes。
Oneday，whenthecustodianwasoutofthewayandthedoorsleftajar，hegotinforamomentafterhislittlefriendandsaw。"They"
weretwogreatcoveredpicturesoneithersideofthechoir。
Nellowaskneeling，raptasinanecstasy，beforethealtar-pictureoftheAssumption，andwhenhenoticedPatrasche，androseanddrewthedoggentlyoutintotheair，hisfacewaswetwithtears，andhelookedupattheveiledplacesashepassedthem，andmurmuredtohiscompanion，"Itissoterriblenottoseethem，Patrasche，justbecauseoneispoorandcannotpay！Henevermeantthatthepoorshouldnotseethemwhenhepaintedthem，Iamsure。Hewouldhavehadusseethemanyday，everyday;thatIamsure。Andtheykeepthemshroudedthere——shrouded！inthedark，thebeautifulthings！Andtheyneverfeelthelight，andnoeyeslookonthem，unlessrichpeoplecomeandpay。IfIcouldonlyseethem，Iwouldbecontenttodie。"
Buthecouldnotseethem，andPatraschecouldnothelphim，fortogainthesilverpiecethatthechurchexactsasthepriceforlookingonthegloriesofthe"ElevationoftheCross"andthe"DescentoftheCross"wasathingasutterlybeyondthepowersofeitherofthemasitwouldhavebeentoscaletheheightsofthecathedralspire。Theyhadneversomuchasasoutospare;iftheyclearedenoughtogetalittlewoodforthestove，alittlebrothforthepot，itwastheutmosttheycoulddo。AndyettheheartofthechildwassetinsoreandendlesslonginguponbeholdingthegreatnessofthetwoveiledRubens。
ThewholesoulofthelittleArdennoisthrilledandstirredwithanabsorbingpassionforart。Goingonhiswaysthroughtheoldcityintheearlydaysbeforethesunorthepeoplehadrisen，Nello，wholookedonlyalittlepeasantboy，withagreatdogdrawingmilktosellfromdoortodoor，wasinaheavenofdreamswhereofRubenswasthegod。Nello，coldandhungry，withstockinglessfeetinwoodenshoes，andthewinterwindsblowingamonghiscurlsandliftinghispoorthingarments，wasinaraptureofmeditation，whereinallthathesawwasthebeautifulfairfaceoftheMaryoftheAssumption，withthewavesofhergoldenhairlyinguponhershoulders，andthelightofaneternalsunshiningdownuponherbrow。Nello，rearedinpoverty，andbuffetedbyfortune，anduntaughtinletters，andunheededbymen，hadthecompensationorthecursewhichiscalledgenius。Nooneknewit;heaslittleasany。Nooneknewit。Only，indeed，Patrasche，who，beingwithhimalways，sawhimdrawwithchalkuponthestonesanyandeverythingthatgreworbreathed，heardhimonhislittlebedofhaymurmurallmanneroftimid，patheticprayerstothespiritofthegreatmaster;watchedhisgazedarkenandhisfaceradiateattheeveningglowofsunsetortherosyrisingofthedawn;andfeltmanyandmanyatimethetearsofastrange，namelesspainandjoy，mingledtogether，fallhotlyfromthebrightyoungeyesuponhisownwrinkledyellowforehead。
"IshouldgotomygravequitecontentifIthought，Nello，thatwhenthougrowestamanthoucouldstownthishutandthelittleplotofground，andlaborforthyself，andbecalledBaasbythyneighbours，"
saidtheoldmanJehanmanyanhourfromhisbed。Fortoownabitofsoil，andtobecalledBaas（master）bythehamletround，istohaveachievedthehighestidealofaFlemishpeasant;andtheoldsoldier，whohadwanderedoveralltheearthinhisyouth，andhadbroughtnothingback，deemedinhisoldagethattoliveanddieononespotincontentedhumilitywasthefairestfatehecoulddesireforhisdarling。ButNellosaidnothing。
ThesameleavenwasworkinginhimthatinothertimesbegatRubensandJordaensandtheVanEycks，andalltheirwondroustribe，andintimesmorerecentbegatinthegreencountryoftheArdennes，wheretheMeusewashestheoldwallsofDijon，thegreatartistofthePatroclus，whosegeniusistoonearusforusarighttomeasureitsdivinity。
Nellodreamedofotherthingsinthefuturethanoftillingthelittleroodofearth，andlivingunderthewattleroof，andbeingcalledBaasbyneighboursalittlepooreroralittlelesspoorthanhimself。Thecathedralspire，whereitrosebeyondthefieldsintheruddyeveningskiesorinthedim，gray，mistymornings，saidotherthingstohimthanthis。ButthesehetoldonlytoPatrasche，whispering，childlike，hisfanciesinthedog’searwhentheywenttogetherattheirworkthroughthefogsofthedaybreak，orlaytogetherattheirrestamongtherustlingrushesbythewater’sside。
Forsuchdreamsarenoteasilyshapedintospeechtoawaketheslowsympathiesofhumanauditors;andtheywouldonlyhavesorelyperplexedandtroubledthepooroldmanbedriddeninhiscorner，who，forhispart，wheneverhehadtroddenthestreetsofAntwerp，hadthoughtthedaubofblueandredthattheycalledaMadonna，onthewallsofthewine-shopwherehedrankhissou’sworthofblackbeer，quiteasgoodasanyofthefamousaltarpiecesforwhichthestrangerfolktraveledfarandwideintoFlandersfromeverylandonwhichthegoodsunshone。
TherewasonlyoneotherbesidePatraschetowhomNellocouldtalkatallofhisdaringfantasies。ThisotherwaslittleAlois，wholivedattheoldredmillonthegrassymound，andwhosefather，themiller，wasthebest-to-dohusbandmaninallthevillage。LittleAloiswasonlyaprettybabywithsoftround，rosyfeatures，madelovelybythosesweetdarkeyesthattheSpanishrulehasleftinsomanyaFlemishface，intestimonyoftheAlvandominion，asSpanisharthasleftbroad-sownthroughoutthecountrymajesticpalacesandstatelycourts，gildedhouse-frontsandsculpturedlintels——historiesinblazonryandpoemsinstone。
LittleAloiswasoftenwithNelloandPatrasche。Theyplayedinthefields，theyraninthesnow，theygatheredthedaisiesandbilberries，theywentuptotheoldgraychurchtogether，andtheyoftensattogetherbythebroadwoodfireinthemill-house。LittleAlois，indeed，wastherichestchildinthehamlet。Shehadneitherbrothernorsister;herbluesergedresshadneveraholeinit;atkermessshehadasmanygildednutsandAgniDeiinsugarasherhandscouldhold;andwhenshewentupforherfirstcommunionherflaxencurlswerecoveredwithacapofrichestMechlinlace，whichhadbeenhermother’sandhergrandmother’sbeforeitcametoher。Menspokealready，thoughshehadbuttwelveyears，ofthegoodwifeshewouldbefortheirsonstowooandwin;butsheherselfwasalittlegay，simplechild，innowiseconsciousofherheritage，andshelovednoplayfellowssowellasJehanDaas’sgrandsonandhisdog。
Onedayherfather，BaasCogez，agoodman，butsomewhatstern，cameonaprettygroupinthelongmeadowbehindthemill，wheretheaftermathhadthatdaybeencut。Itwashislittledaughtersittingamidthehay，withthegreattawnyheadofPatrascheonherlap，andmanywreathsofpoppiesandbluecorn-flowersroundthemboth;onacleansmoothslabofpinewoodtheboyNellodrewtheirlikenesswithastickofcharcoal。
Themillerstoodandlookedattheportraitwithtearsinhiseyes——itwassostrangelylike，andhelovedhisonlychildcloselyandwell。
Thenheroughlychidthelittlegirlforidlingtherewhilehermotherneededherwithin，andsentherindoorscryingandafraid;then，turning，hesnatchedthewoodfromNello’shands。"Dostdomuchofsuchfolly？"heasked，buttherewasatrembleinhisvoice。
Nellocolouredandhunghishead。"IdraweverythingIsee，"hemurmured。
Themillerwassilent;thenhestretchedhishandoutwithafrancinit。"Itisfolly，asIsay，andevilwasteoftime;nevertheless，itislikeAlois，andwillpleasethehouse-mother。Takethissilverbitforitandleaveitforme。"
ThecolourdiedoutofthefaceoftheyoungArdennois;heliftedhisheadandputhishandsbehindhisback。"Keepyourmoneyandtheportraitboth，BaasCogez，"hesaid，simply。"Youhavebeenoftengoodtome。"ThenhecalledPatraschetohim，andwalkedawayacrossthefields。
"Icouldhaveseenthemwiththatfranc，"hemurmuredtoPatrasche，"butIcouldnotsellherpicture——notevenforthem。"
BaasCogezwentintohismill-housesoretroubledinhismind。"ThatladmustnotbesomuchwithAlois，"hesaidtohiswifethatnight。
"Troublemaycomeofithereafter;heisfifteennow，andsheistwelve;andtheboyiscomelyoffaceandform。"
"Andheisagoodladandaloyal，"saidthehousewife，feastinghereyesonthepieceofpinewoodwhereitwasthronedabovethechimneywithacuckooclockinoakandaCalvaryinwax。
"Yea，Idonotgainsaythat，"saidthemiller，draininghispewterflagon。
"Then，ifwhatyouthinkofwereevertocometopass，"saidthewife，hesitatingly，"woulditmattersomuch？Shewillhaveenoughforboth，andonecannotbebetterthanhappy。"
"Youareawoman，andthereforeafool，"saidthemiller，harshly，strikinghispipeonthetable。"Theladisnaughtbutabeggar，and，withthesepainter’sfancies，worsethanabeggar。Haveacarethattheyarenottogetherinthefuture，orIwillsendthechildtothesurerkeepingofthenunsoftheSacredHeart。"
Thepoormotherwasterrified，andpromisedhumblytodohiswill。Notthatshecouldbringherselfaltogethertoseparatethechildfromherfavoriteplaymate，nordidthemillerevendesirethatextremeofcrueltytoayoungladwhowasguiltyofnothingexceptpoverty。ButthereweremanywaysinwhichlittleAloiswaskeptawayfromherchosencompanion;andNello，beingaboyproudandquietandsensitive，wasquicklywounded，andceasedtoturnhisownstepsandthoseofPatrasche，ashehadbeenusedtodowitheverymomentofleisure，totheoldredmillupontheslope。Whathisoffencewashedidnotknow;hesupposedhehadinsomemannerangeredBaasCogezbytakingtheportraitofAloisinthemeadow;andwhenthechildwholovedhimwouldruntohimandnestleherhandinhis，hewouldsmileatherverysadlyandsaywithatenderconcernforherbeforehimself，"Nay，Alois，donotangeryourfather。HethinksthatImakeyouidle，dear，andheisnotpleasedthatyoushouldbewithme。Heisagoodmanandlovesyouwell;wewillnotangerhim，Alois。"
Butitwaswithasadheartthathesaidit，andtheearthdidnotlooksobrighttohimasithadusedtodowhenhewentoutatsunriseunderthepoplarsdownthestraightroadswithPatrasche。Theoldredmillhadbeenalandmarktohim，andhehadbeenusedtopausebyit，goingandcoming，foracheerygreetingwithitspeopleasherlittleflaxenheadroseabovethelowmillwicket，andherlittlerosyhandshadheldoutaboneoracrusttoPatrasche。Nowthedoglookedwistfullyatacloseddoor，andtheboywentonwithoutpausing，withapangathisheart，andthechildsatwithinwithtearsdroppingslowlyontheknittingtowhichshewassetonherlittlestoolbythestove;andBaasCogez，workingamonghissacksandhismill-gear，wouldhardenhiswillandsaytohimself，"Itisbestso。Theladisallbutabeggar，andfullofidle，dreamingfooleries。Whoknowswhatmischiefmightnotcomeofitinthefuture？"Sohewaswiseinhisgeneration，andwouldnothavethedoorunbarred，exceptuponrareandformaloccasions，whichseemedtohaveneitherwarmthnormirthinthemtothetwochildren，whohadbeenaccustomedsolongtoadailygleeful，careless，happyinterchangeofgreeting，speech，andpastime，withnootherwatcheroftheirsportsorauditoroftheirfanciesthanPatrasche，sagelyshakingthebrazenbellsofhiscollarandrespondingwithalladog’sswiftsympathiestotheireverychangeofmood。
AllthiswhilethelittlepanelofpinewoodremainedoverthechimneyinthemillkitchenwiththecuckooclockandthewaxenCalvary;andsometimesitseemedtoNelloalittlehardthatwhilehisgiftwasaccepted，hehimselfshouldbedenied。
Buthedidnotcomplain;itwashishabittobequiet。OldJehanDaashadsaidevertohim，"Wearepoor;wemusttakewhatGodsends——theillwiththegood;thepoorcannotchoose。"
Towhichtheboyhadalwayslistenedinsilence，beingreverentofhisoldgrandfather;butneverthelessacertainvague，sweethope，suchasbeguilesthechildrenofgenius，hadwhisperedinhisheart，"Yetthepoordochoosesometimes——choosetobegreat，sothatmencannotsaythemnay。"Andhethoughtsostillinhisinnocence;andoneday，whenthelittleAlois，findinghimbychancealoneamongthecorn-fieldsbythecanal，rantohimandheldhimclose，andsobbedpiteouslybecausethemorrowwouldbehersaint’sday，andforthefirsttimeinallherlifeherparentshadfailedtobidhimtothelittlesupperandrompinthegreatbarnswithwhichherfeast-daywasalwayscelebrated，Nellohadkissedherandmurmuredtoherinfirmfaith，"Itshallbedifferentoneday，Alois。Onedaythatlittlebitofpinewoodthatyourfatherhasofmineshallbeworthitsweightinsilver;andhewillnotshutthedooragainstmethen。Onlylovemealways，dearlittleAlois;onlylovemealways，andIwillbegreat。"
"AndifIdonotloveyou？"theprettychildasked，poutingalittlethroughhertears，andmovedbytheinstinctivecoquetriesofhersex。
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