This preview shows page 1. Sign up to view the full content.
Unformatted text preview: nd as rough as we could, sometimes making camp in the forest. All the men except for me were heavily armed. It was in Paris that again I saw the Dutchman! We were in the crowds before Notre Dame on a Sunday morning, going to Mass with thousands of others, in this a Catholic city, and the Dutchman came near to me. "Ashlar!" he said. "You are a fool if you go back to the glen." "You get away from me!" I cried. But something in the man's face held me-a coolness, a resignation, almost a sneer. It was as if I was behaving predictably and wildly, and he was prepared for this, and he walked along with me. My brother and his men glared at the Dutchman and were ready at any instant to sink a dagger into him. "Come to Amsterdam with me," the Dutchman said. "Come and hear my story. You go back to the glen and you will die! They are killing priests in England and that is what they think you are. But in the glen you will be an animal of sacrifice to those...
View Full Document
This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10