"Gerard, the son of Elias."

The janitor inspected the slip of parchment he held in his hand:

"Gerard Eliassoen can enter."

"With my company; these two?"

"Nay; those are not your company: they came before you."

"What matter? they are my friends, and without them I go not in."

"Stay without, then."

"That will I not."

"That we will see."

"We will, and speedily." And with this, Gerard raised a voice of astounding volume and power, and shouted, so that the whole street rang:

"Ho! Philip Earl of Holland!"

Ho! Philip Earl of Holland!

"Are you mad?" cried the porter.

"Here is one of your varlets defies you."

Here is one of your varlets defies you.

"Hush, Hush!"

"And will not let your guests pass in."

And will not let your guests pass in.

"Hush! murder! The duke's there. I'm dead," cried the janitor, quaking.

Then suddenly trying to overpower Gerard's thunder, he shouted, with all his lungs:

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