lushed up, but made no answer, only Foy remarked:

"That's right, Adrian, look after your own skin."

"Just now I find it more interesting," went on Adrian loftily and
disregardful of his brother, "to study those whom the cannon may shoot
than to make the cannon which is to shoot them."

"Hope you won't be one of them," interrupted Foy again.

"Where have you been this evening, son?" asked Lysbeth hastily, fearing
a quarrel.

"I have been mixing with the people, mother, at the scene on the
market-place yonder."

"Not the martyrdom of our good friend, Jansen, surely?"

"Yes, mother, why not? It is terrible, it is a crime, no doubt, but
the observer of life should study these things. There is nothing more
fascinating to the philosopher than the play of human passions. The
emotions of the brutal crowd, the stolid indifference of the guard, the
grief of the sympathisers, the stoical endurance of the victims animated
by religious exaltation----"

"And the beautiful logic of the philosopher, with his nose in the air,
while he watches his friend and brother in the Faith being slowly burnt
to death," broke out Foy with passion.

"Hush! hush!" said Dirk, striking his fist upon the table with a blow
that caused the glasses to ring, "this is no subject for word-chopping.
Adrian, you would have been better with us than down below at that
butchery, even though you were less safe," he added, with meaning.
"But I wish to run none into danger, and you are of an age to judge for
yourself. I beg you, however, to spare us your light talk about scenes
that we think dreadful, however interesting you may have found them."

Adrian shrugged his shoulders and called to Martin to bring him some
more meat. As the great man approached him he spread out his fine-drawn
nostrils and sniffed.

"You smell, Martin," he said, "and no wonder. Look, there is blood upon
your jerkin. Have you been killing pigs and forgotten to change it?"

Martin's round blue eyes flashed, then went pale and dead again.

"Yes, master," he answered, in his thick voice, "I have been killing
pigs. But your dress also smells of blood and fire; perhaps you went too
near the stake." At that moment, to put an end to the conversation, Dirk
rose and said grace. Then he went out of the room accompanied by his
wife and Foy, leaving Adrian to finish his meal alone, which he did
reflectively and at leisure.

When he left the eating chamber Foy followed Martin across the c