Did you get gold? Hey, my son, plenty of gold?"
"Gold! no, no--I got nothing--indeed I lost by it--lost a pot full of
black paint--but never mind that. He's gone," replied Vanslyperken,
recovering himself fast.
"Who is gone?"
"The lad, Smallbones."
"Pish," replied the old woman, rocking her chair. "Ay, well, never
mind--it was for revenge, then--that's sweet--very sweet. Now,
Cornelius, tell me all about it."
Vanslyperken, encouraged by the sympathy, if we may use the term, shown
by his mother, narrated what he had done.
"Well, well, child, 'tis a beginning," replied the old woman, "and I'll
not call you craven again."
"I must go back," said Vanslyperken, starting up from his chair.
"Go, child, it is late--and dream it over. Vengeance is sweet, even in
sleep. I have had mine--and for years have I dwelt on it--and shall for
years to come. I shall not die yet--no, no."
Vanslyperken quitted the house; the weather had cleared up, the breeze
was fresh and piercing, and the stars twinkled every now and then, as
the wild scud which flew across the heavens admitted them to view.
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