Flemish Legends Part 27

Meanwhile Smetse went to his wife and said to her with great heat: "Dost think it a fine thing to gainsay me before these good men! Chattering magpie, wilt never learn to hold thy tongue? Hast not already to-night been admonished sharply enough? Must thou have more telling?"

"But, Smetse," said his wife, "I did not know that you had sent for them."

"That is no reason," he said, "why thou shouldst give me the lie before all my workmen; canst thou not leave thy speaking until I have done, or else hold thy tongue altogether, which would be better still."

"Smetse," said his wife, "I never saw you so angry before. Do not beat me, my man, I will be henceforward as dumb as this cheese."

"So you should," said Smetse.

"But, my man," said she, "canst not explain to me somewhat of all these happenings?"

"Sometime," he said, and went back into his smithy.

VII. Of Smetse the Rich.

That day there came to Smetse many persons, both notable and common, n.o.bles, priests, burgesses, and peasants, to give him orders for much work, and so it went on again on other days, and all through the year.

Soon the smithy became too small, and Smetse had to enlarge it by reason of the ever-growing numbers of his workmen. And the work which they did was so beautiful and so marvellously well done that the fame of it spread abroad to foreign and distant countries, and people came to see and admire it from Holland, Zeeland, Spain, Germany, England, and even from the land of the Turk.

But Smetse, thinking of the seven years, was not happy at all.

Soon his coffers were full of fine crusats, angelots, rose n.o.bles, and golden jewels. But he found no pleasure in looking at all this wealth, for he thought them poor payment for giving his soul to the devil for all the length of eternity.

Red Slimbroek lost all his customers, who came back one by one to Smetse. Ragged and miserable he used to come every day and lounge on the quay, watching from there the bright fire glowing in the forge of the good smith, and, so standing, he seemed dazed and stupid, like an owl watching a doit. Smetse, knowing that he was needy, sent him several customers to bring him some means of sustenance, and also more than once a gift of money. But although he thus repaid evil with good he was no longer happy, thinking of the seven years.

Smetse's wife, finding him so wealthy, bought for dinner each Sunday legs of fat mutton, geese, capons, turkeys, and other good meats; invited to her table his relatives, friends, and workmen; and then there would be a great feast, well washed down with double bruinbier. But Smetse, though he ate and drank like an emperor, was not at all happy, thinking of the seven years. And the steam from the roast meats spread abroad on the Quai aux Oignons, so fragrant and succulent, and so sweetening the air, that all the dogs wandering in the streets of the town would stop before the house and sniff at the smell, and there on their haunches, nose in air, would wait for crumbs: and the beggars, of whom there were great numbers, came thither likewise and tried to drive away the dogs. Thereupon ensued furious battles, in which many were badly bitten. Seeing this, Smetse's wife and other women would come every Sunday to the door with baskets of alms, and there, before the meal began, would give the beggars good bread, slices of meat, and two farthings to get themselves drink, and all this with soft words and fair speaking; then they charged them to go away from the quay, which they did in an orderly manner. But the dogs stayed behind, and at the end of the feast there was given to them likewise food of some sort. And then they would go off also, taking each his bone or other booty.

Smetse and his wife together took both dogs and men into their affection; to the beggars he gave food and shelter; and so also to all the dogs of Ghent that were lame, infirm, or sickly, until at length his house came to be called the Dogs' Hospital and the Home of the Poor.

Nevertheless he was not at all happy, thinking of the seven years.

Worn and troubled with these thoughts, Smetse stopped singing and lost his fat, shrivelled visibly, became melancholy and moody, and in his smithy said never a word, except to give a necessary order.

And he was no longer called Smetse the Merry, but Smetse the Rich.

And he counted the days.

VIII. How there came a ragged, wayfarer to Smetse's door, and with him, on an a.s.s, a sweet wife and a little child.

On the two hundred and forty-fifth day of the seventh year, when the plum-trees were in bloom, Smetse, dumb as a stone, was taking a little noonday rest. He sat on a wooden bench opposite his door, and with melancholy mien looked at the trees planted all along the quay, and the small birds playing among the branches or squabbling and pecking one another over some morsel of food, and blinked in the bright sun which made these birds so merry, and heard at his back the goodly sounds of his forge, his wife preparing dinner, and his workmen hurrying at their work so that they might be off to their meal, for it was nearing the time; and he said to himself that in h.e.l.l he would see neither the sun, nor the birds, nor the trees with their load of green leaves, nor hear any more the sounds of his forge, nor the smiths hurrying, nor his good wife preparing dinner.

By and by the workmen came out, and Smetse was left sitting alone on his bench, pondering in his mind whether there were not some way whereby he might outwit the devil.

Suddenly there drew up at his door a man of piteous appearance, with brown hair and beard, dressed like a ragged townsman, and carrying a great staff in his hand. He was walking beside an a.s.s, and leading it along by a rein. On the a.s.s rode a sweet and beautiful young woman with a n.o.ble mien, suckling a little child, who was quite naked, and of such gentle and winsome countenance that the sight of it warmed Smetse's heart.

The a.s.s stopped at the door of the smithy and began to bray loudly.

"Master smith," said the man, "our a.s.s has cast one of his shoes on his way hither, wilt thou be pleased to give orders that another should be given him?"

"I will do it myself," said Smetse, "for I am alone here."

"I should tell thee," said the man, "that we are beggars, without money."

"Have no care for that," said Smetse, "I am rich enough to be able to shoe in silver without payment all the a.s.ses in Flanders."

Hearing this the woman alighted from the a.s.s and asked Smetse if she might sit down on the bench.

"Yes," said he.

And while he was fastening up the beast, paring his hoof and fitting the shoe, he said to the man: "Whence come you, with this woman and this a.s.s?"

"We come," said the man, "from a distant country, and have still far to go."

"And this child whom I see naked," said Smetse, "does he not oftentimes suffer from the cold?"

"Nay," said the man, "for he is all warmth and all life."

"Well, well," said Smetse, "you do not cry down your own children, master. But what is your meat and drink while you are travelling in this manner?"

"Water from streams," said the man, "and such bread as is given us."

"Ah," said Smetse, "that is not much, I see, for the a.s.s's panniers are light. You must often go hungry."

"Yes," said the man.

"This," said Smetse, "is displeasing to me, and it is most unwholesome for a nursing mother to suffer hunger, for so the milk turns sour, and the child grows in sickly wise." And he called out to his wife: "Mother, bring hither as many loaves and hams as will fill the panniers of this beast. And do not forget some double bruinbier, 'tis heavenly comfort for poor travellers. And a good peck of oats for the a.s.s."

When the panniers were filled and the beast shod, the man said to Smetse: "Smith, it is in my mind to give thee some recompense for thy great goodness, for such as thou seest me I have great power."

"Yes," said Smetse, with a smile, "I can see that well enough."

"I am," said the man, "Joseph, nominal husband of the very blessed Virgin Mary, who is sitting on this bench, and this child that she has in her arms is Jesus, thy Saviour."

Smetse, dumbfounded at these words, looked at the wayfarers with great astonishment, and saw about the man's head a nimbus of fire, a crown of stars about the woman's, and, about the child's, beautiful rays more brilliant than the sun, springing from his head and girdling him round with light.

Thereupon he fell at their feet and said: "My Lord Jesus, Madam the Virgin, and my Master St. Joseph, grant me pardon for my lack of understanding."

To this St. Joseph replied: "Thou art an honest man, Smetse, and righteous as well. For this reason I give thee leave to make three requests, the greatest thou canst think of, and my Lord Jesus will listen to them favourably."

At these words Smetse was filled with joy, for it seemed to him that in this way he might perhaps escape the devil; but at the same time he did not dare to avow that he had traded his soul away. So he remained in silence for a few moments, thinking of what things he could ask, then suddenly said, with great respect: "My Lord Jesus, Madam St. Mary, and you, Master St. Joseph, will you please to enter my dwelling? There I can tell you what boons I ask."

"We will," said St. Joseph.