Marjorie Bowen

“ Dirk Renswoude moved St. Michael from the chair and tossed a pile of parchments off a stool. He offered these seats to his guests, who accepted them in silence.
"You must needs wait till the supper is prepared," he said, and with that placed himself on the stool by the pot, and, while he stirred it with an iron spoon, openly studied the two men.
Balthasar of Courtrai was gorgeous; his age might be perhaps twenty-six or seven; he was of a large make, florid in the face with a high red colour and blunt features; his brows were straight and over fair, his eyes deep blue and expressionless ”

“ For the second time the young man left the room, now to go into the hall and open the door that gave upon the street. He looked on to an empty market-place surrounded by small houses falling into decay, beyond them the double towers of the Cathedral flying upwards across the gold and blue. ”

“ The sun sank the other side of the house, so that the garden and room were alike in shadow, and the air became cooler; still the young man made no movement. The flames leapt on the hearth and the meat seethed in the pot unheeded. Outside the vine leaves curled against the brick, and the stone faces looked down at the broken fountain, the struggling grass and the tall white daisies; still the young man, bending lower, his heated cheek pressed into his palm, his hair touching the page, bent over the great tome on his knee. Not the devil with his green eyes staring before him, not St. ”

“ Before one of these the young man went on his knees and unlocked it. It contained a number of bits of glass cut to represent gems; he selected two of an equal size and a clear green colour, then, with the same gravity and silence with which he had come, he returned to the workshop. ”