They knew the man better than he thought.
"It is about your son Gerard." "Ay! ay! you want him to work for the town all for nothing.

He told us." "I come on no such errand.

It is to let you know he has fallen into bad hands." "Now Heaven and the saints forbid! Man, torture not a mother! Speak out, and quickly: speak ere you have time to coin falsehood: we know thee." Ghysbrecht turned pale at this affront, and spite mingled with the other motives that brought him here.

"Thus it is, then," said he, grinding his teeth and speaking very fast.

"Your son Gerard is more like to be father of a family than a priest: he is for ever with Margaret, Peter Brandt's red-haired girl, and loves her like a cow her calf." Mother and daughter both burst out laughing.