— 4 — THE DEPARTUREHe was at length fully aroused by the sound of loud and cheerful singing.
“My heart’s a nun within my breast
So cold is she, so cloistered cold”…
Theirry sat up, conscious of a burning, aching head and a room flooded with sunshine.
“To her my sins are all confest—
So wise is she, so wise and old—
So I blow off my loves like the thistledown”
A burst of laughter interrupted the song; Theirry knew now that it was Balthasar’s voice, and he rose from the couch with a sense of haste and discomfiture. What hour was it? The day was of a drowsing heat; the glare of the sun had taken all colour out of the walls opposite, the grass and vines; they all blazed together, a shimmer of gold.
“So I blow off my loves like the thistledown
And ride from the gates of Courtrai town”…
