ILLINOIS
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN

PRODUCTION NOTE

University of Illinois at
Urbana-Champaign Library
Brittle Books Project, 2012.

In Public Domain.
Published prior to 1923.

This digital copy was made from the printed version held
by the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.
It was made in compliance with copyright law.

Prepared for the Brittle Books Project, Main Library,
University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign
by
Northern Micrographics
Brookhaven Bindery
La Crosse, Wisconsin

2012

t'e' -Ek.
:
ea r

V 3 Y 4 tr(^. r y :OT xY,
.1 f =.r"Y*I'y .x '!Z .i�.fr-T- W..: V , RS _ .d' R v - _

g s.as n ~ ..C'. F"- 3! 3-d 1?.si iY.. . 'rr ;+ _ r"' _ ;k. e , " y
"_ f X ' -~"2'n'C4;' ,R'rt-.y'- yis;+. r"_ " 'x- l -"fix " -t" 4 k'-'- " a
'df4{ X+ a.
x
ET~ ^� < -.T " ,,;,r..r L. i e """l x.. as .s- + -
_ . x ' , ,+s.'. 'k'f z r -'- sue.. " ,.- r^1:_' r r ldc, - . r '�"qa r ':
- +,: -<.sr,'�n?'.l �.Y .MM. ". xw +} 3 'jj - -." !GRs s'. j ~ 4"x 'NSF _ e 'y =i" Y? v
;+P .._5'6 s ,R., 't 'vitn 'ti ."fi - ' r3 , a ~ - " , .Y FY�' .. '+- _
t"rr+"'.-d' #. ._..ehi<rt $. -.,... " ' .yl..: '-,. ' 3 } - w . r

s w2
> ! -
,x _ . ,yam, .. _ ... . ' 4 ., " r -r -
Vo'
4ft
F l ' - �;;1""~ z-! vs ,3'.<y .R."' -_'m-"++x-yet' .. ,:~ ' -,,..
<- .,r :r s: 4_x ._=.5. . '.w., ,Y F."R+"_'. "'. ,:.tee.. '" ~vt't.:
-^, +, ' -e r'--t"" ' , ry 'Z,+Ax .1, s ,' = t ;?x ' e'WL . _ .Xhr_ _

! aty( { t , +. i v""-.^ ..':
: f . t c k 'r -,-w,. q " ys' 'ys.; ;.a .s� x- '.,, -sri j 'i' s ." '"' a' " . s+s'3 :... _
rA ' ; T }.gin: r" ; _" v" ..:m ie � �
j Y F 1 1! _p3" _" -"e .."

r r!

- "',?4:s,..y " s' + ' : ?3..'i l; " . .dvr' a ;Ti ; r+ ... - -'t - " "'t "r{ y y
'- c.rr. v o:s -,.""=yi ;s , -. �E.7^' " . .,c :s - T�T+'..a. , y ..,
{ - _ - = _ yv'a -,;c" - ~, -fie,;. - -. }yC m ie a.,',py" '+ , .' r
_ ,-;i4;:i Y, ...:ya rt't, .�:'? .-'- ' ..z-_ n_: :- ::s' r , - ' Vi. "a ,"'bn. .L:�y .e Ir. r
MI,
67
- 2 F JJ.r -N.F' , b ' ' 'N" ' U , =* .' 3i =a". s" " ^- -. " '
-A h _- "='- ',' W"' ',,., xt. { � '-,fin . Rp. _ ' ^ra .s" ' .' - "I ) l c
_ - $ �-: o �a 9'F y+ ..rk.. --y ' + �a4 + " s + -. 'yJY^x ' �'. ; j .T'.
� - - u.2.rJ,4 'Sp'H:4 i"^ gip -? - ". .. r - },.".. - x
a" .xTr~%i rr?'... ' -a S 4, ,g- ",#� , Y^ i ' Y +a '-,_+ , cs'" -
: F _-a., ti tr ,. *': , . . Y.vA "- ., Yk a}=, R+C''*,'",i.TM'.+p ^ .i _ v _ _ _

3-""' ' A 43'. E: i_ y ,. +" ' !". +t ~ zrSY.' ^,L3c _ " '%BS u
t - ' , - ?yH' a " i i.r> 'zr . f'HS-.. ^w. - "+_ a"
x F irau . r " �' ". '*' > + r e' w t.M .yam I
" -gyt' .r , ! ~," ; ' " _ ' '. i , p -"i'
't: Y .R >.?-"i',a^ ws+ , yY^",.. a{ y - .. ' aCf"' "' '.2?" !'&[' ' yp ,e#- ,i 7' 6 " 1C'

""y-.._ x >-.r 4% "" 'yam "may, a , ''"-

, .,.F %rrs,.,+t-'"sc-.r.r.:.. : i da^fc-� 5. -" i;mW n ~ "'=.e' ak...#r. 'T w E. ak. -
s ,a_' 'r;^yf''.ka y - .w'.-, a.,R,.t ".- .xs i .. _ '
i..
at e ' y a i:'v; . . ir;_ ,o- azss? r" u , . #s"::ar!:._ ;, -. +y. - , w

s ,n ,- ,k" ;.-p*;rF '?r' f~"3"_ ?., ^ew. _y_ . -"- '"... F.'g s. r_ _ ,F fi-e. _ "F 'i'+K ac. y

': ' ti s s. .scr".". ss.(,.k.-: .'. � 3;-_ ' 3? : r _ '-,= ' w- S.- +. t " . u ' '
r _ "r' '-iw :r ' "'rt � ' u w .. = "e" a "R--', G ,' �s" .s xrSa +", . ,,, r ;' W .. de
F - , a'.' y ,,p ^" +.fm .i - _ ;-^x e. ", 'R''"x _ .-'p', 's gw 4 .,!
< . ' a.x -8*"x2' ,,... ,, ex.^" . "n;c .a -.. -� ~ s F 'sm ! _ _ ', ..- Fi" _ r'
i : c, ]s r.." -.offt g._ yx~ x''".r.- F' _ " s a - A y ' .,.g:.:t'':,+Y '
- 7 Z. - 4a-
A " yam. .. r
; ,.. ~ d, ' s . Y ..j--:: t ;.. " : ya .+-2, " $- ;, 'mo( 5" r-" y, -' x
.;.c s �:x ""-a:-s.s; .,:p 'Je Ys -., - _ -,E
gsr;

r w """Ra"!' '1f�_. *1 _ _ .",a7e^, ,i: ,ygy,, .- .'".y4 _"s , +! ,,a"�.:.a ' i '_
' r Y s:....Fg7 '" . ', '+a J T 1 3+' r rG R-' _ fF - S!'" "a" -

y p-s a sJ a 7 sr ' ' .. g> y r t ac An tF Vr n'3.Y "' .fN + " "' '_ _ t_ = "i�t t. 7i; " .rr 'j _
it '1. 14- a - "n . " .
+, .Fh d .Riw ..- ' ' _ 4 'L '�",.h '.,. 4'.a+i?' Y4h-Zi A i'<u""* "i +. r"'" iF7 e � ! '
- ~'tn sxi.i:d .wi ' ,Jy -' 4 ' '-" }yvL2 %R'}}+' + ,5 .-.'61 @i=:'n- ,, :, r V1f' J'An"
@1 WIMSiyx."r 5'-':.z ns
v 'yFy + sr.t2 _,i"E :Yz, 'r"
- x ..'"rak ""-' ^b�"y ^ r-.M'ri" "; '. "+r ' r z'Yn^y"'Fa . _
42- V*Jli INN
..R'r , ." .? -_ _ ' ' t.q , ,''y n '1 'RS+wzyyF [{+ -. -""S+ , '. wy"" " ,n "Y," " .
- _ :,y x 1.' + ,a# - n :. ',; ,:"5e ' r :r '; , ' - Ka.. ^ ice ! _ I
_t .t,; , 3' . ':-:.J w""� 4LR ST kY t., t", 'Rre% },e=_"aywy 'i::e+xy �u1�C 'Cit > =
E. t (y '_crc.. el./'i: ^y a,"t _l '}? 'Ye,'w ,?^ Py " aT'_-' .Il _ _ yx
'"'a Ysx a. "a y'''. '" F:, s ,s i .d

"a -' xg ".4 r...r "',,. - .'ar - r . " ++t.-- :,.t a i""' ., av - T .-. , .
-'E - w-"-a f + .. - ' - x,-- " 4.,. da. ..+..L ". :"'' P.. . ^c �eEfs M v" ' i- r~ - a %s "-' _ z . .
- q a . ,.. &r r r -s" !' r }s -=~ ; a . 'c - i T ssa . Ys!"?s: ,4 - .. ,a- r .'. ^-" , " ' 'r 4f
. j:.t J!_ ..,, wY FS-1 n- 14�y -- i2!S+. ! .-+ f-y.T * nc ..zs 4- i.. 'S ".+,a2 " "+ +" FL Y F. . s.. " --Ji ,_- + a' ..c ". .
M
i L 4 -..t - _ s-,,..ti p c S i " y. ..g-"i ... R, .. - , e _, m ' y aF.: -- - 6g^
lYf f 3 3 _- e _w "r, -.. Y- .:+2 ," .,ps '7Ra^ Ye -4 �' rr- ,i:.sN�-.w.r. _ rsl^.s w3....t

LIBRARY OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN

823 -
Orl3c

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

LIBRARY EDITION OF
BARONESS ORCZY'S
FAMOUS NOVELS

Price 3/6 each
I. The Scarlet Pimpernel
2. I Will Repay
3. The Emperor's Candlesticks
4. By the Gods Beloved
5. Beau Brocade
6. A Son of the People
7. The Tangled Skein
8. The Old Man in the Corner
9. The Nest of the Sparrowhawk
Eldorado, A Story of the Scarlet
Pimpernel; crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.
Unto Caesar; crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

HODDER AND STOUGHTON

THE

LAUGHING CAVALIER

BY THE

BARONESS ORCZY

Author of "THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL," " ELDoRADO,"
" UNTO CAESAR," ETC.

HODDER AND STOUGHTON
LONDON NE W YORK TORONTO
MCMXIV

22 r3i~

CONTENTS
PAGE
AN APOLOGY - - -- 1i

THE PROLOGUE - - - - 13

THE ADVENTURE
CHAPTER I
NEW YEAR'S EVE - - - - - - 29
CHAPTER II
THE FRACAS BY THE POSTERN GATE - - 36
CHAPTER III
AN INTERLUDE - - - - - 47
CHAPTER IV
WATCH-NIGHT - - - - - - 54
CHAPTER V
BROTHER AND SISTER - - - - 67
CHAPTER VI
THE COUNSELS OF PRUDENCE - - - - 75

CHAPTER VII
THREE PHILOSOPHERS AND THEIR FRIENDS - - 80

CHAPTER VIII
THE LODGINGS WHICH WERE PAID FOR - - 96
V

vi CONTENTS

CHAPTER IX
THE PAINTER OF PICTURES - -

CHAPTER X
THE LAUGHING CAVALIER - -

CHAPTER XI
THE BARGAIN - - - -

CHAPTER XII
THE PORTRAIT - - - -

CHAPTER XIII
THE SPANISH WENCH - - -

CHAPTER XIV
AFTER EVENSONG - - -

CHAPTER XV
THE HALT AT BENNEBROCK - -

CHAPTER XVI
LEYDEN - - - -

CHAPTER XVII
AN UNDERSTANDING - - -

CHAPTER XVIII
THE START - - - - -

CHAPTER XIX
IN THE KINGDOM OF THE NIGHT -

CHAPTER XX
BACK AGAIN IN HAARLEM - -

PAGE
- - - Io6

- - - III

- - - 122

- - - I28

- - - 135

S - - 144

- - - 150

S - - 155

- - - 162

- * - 172

- - * 175

- - - 179

CHAPTER XXI

A GRIEF-STRICKEN FATHER -

185

CONTENTS vii
CHAPTER XXII PAGE
A DOUBLE PLEDGE - . - 190

CHAPTER XXIII
A SPY FROM THE CAMP - - - - 199

CHAPTER XXIV
THE BIRTH OF HATE - - - - - 207

CHAPTER XXV
AN ARRANT KNAVE - - - - 221

CHAPTER XXVI
BACK TO HOUDEKERK - - - - - - 230

CHAPTER XXVII
THENCE TO ROTTERDAM - - - - 237

CHAPTER XXVIII
CHECK - - - - - - - - 244
CHAPTER XXIX
CHECK AGAIN - - - - - - 251

CHAPTER XXX
A NOCTURNE - - - - - - 256

CHAPTER XXXI
THE MOLENS - - - - - - - - 274

CHAPTER XXXII
A RUN THROUGH THE NIGHT - - - - 285

CHAPTER XXXIII
THE CAPTIVE LION - - - - 293

CHAPTER XXXIV
PROTESTATIONS - - - - - - 301

viii CONTENTS

CHAPTER XXXV PAGE
THE WITNESS FOR THE DEFENCE - - - - 310

CHAPTER XXXVI
BROTHER PHILOSOPHERS - - - - - 325

CHAPTER XXXVII
DAWN - - - - - - - - - 335

CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE HOUR - - - - - - - - 342

CHAPTER XXXIX
"SAUVE QUI PEUT" - - - - - - 347

CHAPTER XL
THE LOSER PAYS - - - - - - - 354

CHAPTER XLI
" VENGEANCE IS MINE" - - - - - 366

CHAPTER XLII
THE FIGHT IN THE DOORWAY - - - - 371

CHAPTER XLIII
LEYDEN ONCE MORE - - - - - 390

CHAPTER XLIV
BLAKE OF BLAKENEY - - - - - - 399
CHAPTER XLV
THE END - - - - - - - - 404

AN APOLOGY

DOES it need one ?
If so it must also come from those members of the
Blakeney family in whose veins runs the blood of that
Sir Percy Blakeney who is known to history as the Scarlet
Pimpernel-for they in a manner are responsible for the
telling of this veracious chronicle.
For the past eight years now--ever since the true
story of the Scarlet Pimpernel was put on record by the
present author-these gentle, kind, inquisitive friends
have asked me to trace their descent back to an ancestor
more remote than was Sir Percy, to one in fact who by
his life and by his deeds stands forth from out the distant
past as a conclusive proof that the laws which govern
the principles of heredity are as unalterable as those
that rule the destinies of the universe. They have pointed
out to me that since Sir Percy Blakeney's was an excep-
tional personality, possessing exceptional characteristics
which his friends pronounced sublime and his detractors
arrogant-he must have had an ancestor in the dim
long ago who was, like him, exceptional, like him possessed
of qualities which call forth the devotion of friends and
the rancour of enemies. Nay, more ! there must have
existed at one time or another a man who possessed
that same sunny disposition, that same irresistible laugh-
ter, that same careless insouciance and adventurous
spirit which were subsequently transmitted to his descen-
dants, of whom the Scarlet Pimpernel himself was the
most distinguished individual.
ix

AN APOLOGY

All these were unanswerable arguments, and with the
request that accompanied them I had long intended to
comply. Time has been my only enemy in thwarting
my intentions until now-time and the multiplicity of
material and documents to be gone through ere vague
knowledge could be turned into certitude.
Now at last I am in a position to present not only to
the Blakeneys themselves, but to all those who look on
the Scarlet Pimpernel as their hero and their friend--
the true history of one of his most noted forebears.
Strangely enough his history has never been written
before. And yet countless millions must during the
past three centuries have stood before his picture; we
of the present generation, who are the proud possessors
of that picture now, have looked on him many a time,
always with sheer, pure joy in our hearts, our lips smiling,
our eyes sparkling in response to his; almost forgetting
the genius of the artist who portrayed him in the very
realism of the personality which literally seems to breathe
and palpitate and certainly to laugh to us out of the
canvas.
Those twinkling eyes! how well we know them!
that laugh ! we can almost hear it ; as for the swagger, the
devil-may-care arrogance, do we not condone it, seeing
that it has its mainspring behind a fine straight brow
whose noble, sweeping lines betray an undercurrent of
dignity and of thought.
And yet no biographer has--so far as is known to the
author of this veracious chronicle--ever attempted to tell
us anything of this man's life, no one has attempted
hitherto to lift the veil of anonymity which only thinly
hides the identity of the Laughing Cavalier.
But here in Haarlem-in the sleepy, yet thriving little
town where he lived, the hard-frozen ground in winter
seems at times to send forth a memory-echo of his firm
footstep, of the jingling of his spurs, and the clang of his

sword, and the old gate of the Spaarne through which
he passed so often is still haunted with the sound of his
merry laughter, and his pleasant voice seems still to rouse
the ancient walls from their sleep.
Here too-hearing these memory-echoes whenever the
shadows of evening draw in on the quaint old city-I had
a dream. I saw him just as he lived, three hundred
years ago. He had stepped out of the canvas in London,
had crossed the sea and was walking the streets of Haarlem
just as he had done then, filling them with his swagger,
with his engaging personality, above all with his laughter.
And sitting beside me in the old tavern of the " Lame
Cow," in that self-same tap-room where he was wont
to make merry, he told me the history of his life.
Since then kind friends at Haarlem have placed docu-
ments in my hands which confirmed the story told me
by the Laughing Cavalier. To them do I tender my
heartfelt and grateful thanks. But it is to the man
himself-to the memory of him which is so alive here
in Haarlem-that I am indebted for the true history
of his life, and therefore I feel that but little apology
is needed for placing the true facts before all those who
have known him hitherto only by his picture, who have
loved him only for what they guessed.
The monograph which I now present with but few
additions of minor details, goes to prove what I myself
had known long ago, namely, that the Laughing Cavalier
who sat to Frans Hals for his portrait in 1624 was the
direct ancestor of Sir Percy Blakeney, known to history
as the Scarlet Pimpernel.
EMMUSKA ORCZY.
HAARLEM, 1913.

AN APOOGY

THE PROLOGUE

HAARLEM-March 29th, 1623

THE day had been spring-like-even hot ; a very unusual
occurrence in Holland at this time of year.
Gilda Beresteyn had retired early to her room. She
had dismissed Maria, whose chatterings grated upon her
nerves, with the promise that she would call her later.
Maria had arranged a tray of dainties on the table, a jug
of milk, some fresh white bread and a little roast meat
on a plate, for Gilda had eaten very little supper and it
might happen that she would feel hungry later on.
It would have been useless to argue with the old woman
about this matter. She considered Gilda's health to be
under her own special charge, ever since good Mevrouw
Beresteyn had placed her baby girl in Maria's strong,
devoted arms ere she closed her eyes in the last long
sleep.
Gilda Beresteyn, glad to be alone, threw open the
casement of the window and peered out into the night.
The shadow of the terrible tragedy-the concluding
acts of which were being enacted day by day in the
Gevangen Poort of 'S Graven Hage-had even touched
the distant city of Haarlem with its gloom. The eldest
son of John- of Barneveld was awaiting final trial and
inevitable condemnation, his brother Stoutenburg was a
fugitive, and their accomplices Korenwinder, van Dyk,
the redoubtable Slatius and others, were giving away
under torture the details of the aborted conspiracy against
the life of Maurice of Nassau, Stadtholder of Holland,
Gelderland, Utrecht and Overyssel, Captain and Admiral-
13

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

General of the State, Prince of Orange, and virtual ruler
of Protestant and republican Netherlands.
Traitors all of them-would-be assassins-the Stadt-
holder whom they had planned to murder was showing
them no mercy. As he had sent John of Barneveld to the
scaffold to assuage his own thirst for supreme power and
satisfy his own ambitions, so he was ready to send
John of Barneveld's sons to death and John of Barneveld's
widow to sorrow and loneliness.
The sons of John of Barneveld had planned to avenge
their father's death by the committal of a cruel and
dastardly murder: fate and the treachery of mercenary
accomplices had intervened, and now Grceneveld was
on the eve of condemnation, and Stoutenburg was a
wanderer on the face of the earth with a price put upon
his head.
Gilda Beresteyn could not endure the thought of it all.
All the memories of her childhood were linked with the
Barnevelds. Stoutenburg had been her brother Nicolaes'
most intimate friend, and had been the first man to
whisper words of love in her ears, ere his boundless ambi-
tion and his unscrupulous egoism drove him into another
more profitable marriage.
Gilda's face flamed up with shame even now at recol-
lection of his treachery, and the deep humiliation which
she had felt when she saw the first budding blossom of
her girlish love so carelessly tossed aside by the man
whom she had trusted.
A sense of oppression weighed her spirits down to-
night. It almost seemed as if the tragedy which had
encompassed the entire Barneveld family was even now
hovering over the peaceful house of Mynheer Beresteyn,
deputy burgomaster and chief civic magistrate of the
town of Haarlem. The air itself felt heavy as if with the
weight of impending doom.
The little city lay quiet and at peace; a soft breeze
from the south lightly fanned the girl's cheeks. She
leaned her elbows on the window-sill and rested her chin
in her hands. The moon was not up and yet it was not
dark; a mysterious light still lingered on the horizon

THE PROLOGUE

far away where earth and sea met in a haze of purple and
indigo.
From the little garden down below there rose the
subtle fragrance of early spring--of wet earth and budding
trees, and the dim veiled distance was full of strange
sweet sounds, the call of night-birds, the shriek of sea-
gulls astray from their usual haunts.
Gilda looked out and listened-unable to understand
this vague sense of oppression and of foreboding: when
she put her finger up to her eyes, she found them wet
with tears.
Memories rose from out the past, sad phantoms that
hovered in the scent of the spring. Gilda had never
wholly forgotten the man who had once filled her heart
with his personality, much less could she chase away his
image from her mind now that a future of misery and
disgrace was all that was left to him.
She did not know what had become of him, and dared
not ask for news. Mynheer Beresteyn, loyal to the House
of Nassau and to its prince, had cast out of his heart the
sons of John of Barneveld whom he had once loved.
Assassins and traitors, he would with his own lips have
condemned them to the block, or denounced them to
the vengeance of the Stadtholder for their treachery
against him.
The feeling of uncertainty as to Stoutenburg's fate
softened Gilda's heart toward him. She knew that he
had become a wanderer on the face of the earth, Cain-like,
homeless, friendless, practically kinless; she pitied him
far more than she did Groeneveld or the others who were
looking death quite closely in the face.
She was infinitely sorry for him, for him and for his
wife, for whose sake he had been false to his first love.
The gentle murmur of the breeze, the distant call of the
water-fowl, seemed to bring back to Gilda's ears those
whisperings of ardent passion which had come from
Stoutenburg's lips years ago. She had listened to them
with joy then, with glowing eyes cast down and cheeks
that flamed up at his words.
And as she listened to these dream-sounds others more

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

concrete mingled with the mystic ones far away: the
sound of stealthy footsteps upon the flagged path of the
garden, and of a human being breathing and panting
somewhere close by, still hidden by the gathering shadows
of the night.
She held her breath to listen-not at all frightened, for
the sound of those footsteps, the presence of that human
creature close by, were in tune with her mood of expect-
ancy of something that was foredoomed to come.
Suddenly the breeze brought to her ear the murmur
of her name, whispered as if in an agony of pleading:
" Gilda ! "
She leaned right out of the window. Her eyes, better
accustomed to the dim evening light, perceived a human
figure that crouched against the yew hedge, in the fantastic
shadow cast by the quaintly shaped peacock at the corner
close to the house.
"Gilda ! " came the murmur again, more insistent
this time.
" Who goes there ? " she called in response : and it was
an undefinable instinct stronger than her will that caused
her to drop her own voice also to a whisper.
"A fugitive hunted to his death," came the response
scarce louder than the breeze. " Give me shelter, Gilda
--human blood hounds are on my track."
Gilda's heart seemed to stop its beating; the human
figure out there in the shadows had crept stealthily nearer.
The window out of which she leaned was only a few feet
from the ground; she stretched out her hand into the
night.
"There is a projection in the wall just there," she
whispered hurriedly, " and the ivy stems will help you. ..
Come ! "
The fugitive grasped the hand that was stretched out
to him in pitying helpfulness. With the aid of the pro-
jection in the wall and of the stems of the century-old
ivy, he soon cleared the distance which separated him
from the window-sill. The next moment he had jumped .
into the room.
Gilda in this impulsive act of mercy had not paused to

consider either the risks or the cost. She had recognised
the voice of the man whom she had once loved, that voice
called to her out of the depths of boundless misery; it
was the call of a man at bay, a human quarry hunted and
exhausted, with the hunters close upon his heels. She
could not have resisted that call even if she had allowed
her reason to fight her instinct then.
But now that he stood before her in rough fisherman's
clothes, stained and torn, his face covered with blood and
grime, his eyes red and swollen, the breath coming in
quick, short gasps through his blue, cracked lips, the first
sense of fear at what she had done seized hold of her
heart.
At first he took no notice of her, but threw himself into
the nearest chair and passed his hands across his face
and brow.
" My God," he murmured, " I thought they would have
me to-night."
She stood in the middle of the room, feeling helpless and
bewildered; she was full of pity for the man, for there is
nothing more unutterably pathetic than the hunted human
creature in its final stage of apathetic exhaustion, but she
was just beginning to co-ordinate her thoughts and they
for the moment were being invaded by fear.
She felt more than she saw, that presently he turned
his hollow, purple-rimmed eyes upon her, and that in
them there was a glow half of passionate will-power and
half of anxious, agonizing doubt.
" Of what are you afraid, Gilda ? " he asked suddenly,
" surely not of me ? "
" Not of you, my lord," she replied quietly, " only for
you."
"I am a miserable outlaw now, Gilda," he rejoined
bitterly, " four thousand golden guilders await any lout
who chooses to sell me for a competence."
" I know that, my lord . . . and marvel why you are
here ? I heard that you were safe--in Belgium."
He laughed and shrugged his shoulders.
" I was safe there," he said, " but I could not rest. I
came back a few days ago, thinking I could help my
B

THE~ PROLOGUE

i8 THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
brother to escape. Bah!" he added roughly, "he is a
snivelling coward. .."
" Hush ! for pity's sake," she exclaimed, "some one
will hear you."
" Close that window and lock the door," he murmured
hoarsely. "I am spent-and could not resist a child
if it chose to drag me at this moment to the Stadtholder's
spies."
Gilda obeyed him mechanically. First she closed the
window; then she went to the door, listening against the
panel with all her senses on the alert. At the further
send of the passage was the living-room where her father
must still be sitting after his supper, poring over a book
on horticulture, or mayhap attending to his tulip bulbs.
If he knew that the would-be murderer of the Stadtholder,
the prime mover and instigator of the dastardly plot,
was here in his house, in his daughter's chamber . . .
Gilda shuddered, half-fainting with terror, and her tremb-
ling fingers fumbled with the lock.
" Is Nicolaes home ? " asked Stoutenburg, suddenly.
"Not just now," she replied, " but he, too, will be home
anon. . . . My father is at home ... ."
" Ah ! ... Nicolaes is 'my friend . . . I counted on
seeing him here . . . he would help me I know ...
but your father, Gilda, would drag me to the gallows
with his own hand if he knew that I am here."
" You must not count on Nicolaes either, my lord,"
she pleaded, " nor must you stay here a moment longer
: I heard my father's step in the passage already.
He is sure to come and bid me good-night befd.e he goes
to bed. .. ."
"I am spent, Gilda," he murmured, and indeed his
breath came in such short feeble gasps that he could
scarce speak. " I have not touched food for two days.
I landed at Scheveningen a week ago, and for five days
have hung about the Gevangen Poort of 'S Graven Hage
trying to get speech with my brother. I had gained
the good will of an important official in the prison, but
Groeneveld is too much of a coward to make a fight for
freedom. Then I was recognized by a group of workmen

THE PROLOGUE

outside my dead father's house. I read recognition in
their eyes--knowledge of me and knowledge of the money
which that recognition might mean to them. They
feigned indifference at first, but I had read their thoughts.
They drew together to concert over their future actions
and I took to my heels. It was yesterday at noon, and I
have been running ever since, running, running, with but
brief intervals to regain my breath and beg for a drink
of water--when thirst became more unendurable than the
thought of capture. I did not even know which way I
was running till I saw the spires of Haarlem rising from
out the evening haze ; then I thought of you, Gilda, and
of this house. You would not sell me, Gilda, for you are
rich, and you loved me once," he added hoarsely, while
his thin, grimy hands clutched the arms of the chair and
he half-raised himself from his seat, as if ready to spring
up and to start running again; running, running until
he dropped.
But obviously his strength was exhausted, for the next
moment he fell back against the cushions, the swollen
lids fell upon the hollow eyes, the sunken cheeks and
parched lips became ashen white.
"Water ! " he murmured.
She ministered to him kindly and gently, first holding
the water to his lips, then, when he had quenched that
raging thirst, she pulled the table up close to his chair,
and gave him milk to drink and bread and meat to eat.
He seemed quite dazed, conscious only of bodily needs,
for he ate and drank ravenously without thought at first
of thanking her. Only when he had finished did he lean
back once again against the cushions which her kindly
hand had placed behind him, and he murmured feebly
like a tired but satisfied child:
" You are an angel of goodness, Gilda. Had you not
helped me to-night, I should either have perished in a
ditch, or fallen into the hands of the Stadtholder's minions."
Quickly she put a restraining hand on his shoulder.
A firm step had echoed in the flagged corridor beyond the
oaken door.
" My father ! " she whispered.

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

In a moment the instinct for life and liberty was fully
aroused in the fugitive; his apathy and exhaustion were
forgotten; terror, mad, unreasoning terror, had once more
taken possession of his mind.
" Hide me, Gilda," he entreated hoarsely, and his hands
clutched wildly at her gown, " don't let him see me . . .
he would give me up . . . he would give me up. . ."
" Hush, in the name of God," she commanded, "he
will hear you if you speak."
Swiftly she blew out the candles, then with dilated
anxious eyes searched the recesses of the room for a
hiding-place-the cupboard which was too small-the
wide hearth which was too exposed-the bed in the
wall . . .
His knees had given way under him, and, as he clutched
at her gown, he fell forward at her feet, and remained
there crouching, trembling, his circled eyes trying to
pierce the surrounding gloom, to locate the position of the
door behind which lurked the most immediate danger.
" Hide me, Gilda," he murmured almost audibly under
his breath, "for the love you bore me once."
" Gilda ! " came in a loud, kindly voice from the other
side of the door.
" Yes, father ! "
"You are not yet abed, are you, my girl ? "
"I have just blown out the candles, dear," she con-
trived to reply with a fairly steady voice.
"Why is your door locked ? "
" I was a little nervous to-night, father dear. I don't
know why."
"Well ! open then ! and say good-night."
" One moment, dear."
She was white to the lips, white as the gown which
fell in straight heavy folds from her hips, and which
Stoutenburg was still clutching with convulsive fingers.
Alone her white figure detached itself from the darkness
around. The wretched man as he looked up could see her
small pale head, the stiff collar that rose above her
shoulders, her embroidered corslet, and the row of pearls
round her neck.

THE PROLOGUE

"Save me, Gilda," he repeated with the agony of
despair, "do not let your father hand me over to the
Stadtholder . . . there will be no mercy for me, Gilda .. .
hide me . .. hide me . . . for the love of God."
Noiselessly she glided across the room, dragging him
after her by the hand. She pulled aside the bed-curtains,
and without a word pointed to the recess. The bed,
built into the wall, was narrow but sure; it smelt sweetly
of lavender; the hunted man, his very senses blurred by
that overwhelming desire to save his life at any cost,
accepted the shelter so innocently offered him. Gather-
ing his long limbs together, he was soon hidden underneath
the coverlet.
"Gilda ! " came more insistently from behind the
heavy door.
"One moment, father. I was fastening my gown."
"Don't trouble to do that. I only wished to say
good-night."
She pulled the curtains together very carefully in front
of the bed : she even took the precaution of taking off
her stiff collar and embroidered corslet. Then she lighted
one of the candles, and with it in her hand she went to
the door.
Then she drew back the bolt.
" May I not come in ? " said Mynheer Beresteyn gaily,
for she remained standing on the threshold.
" Well no, father ! " she replied, "my room is very
untidy .. . I was just getting into bed. .. ."
"Just getting into bed," he retorted with a laugh,
"why, child, you have not begun to undress."
"I wished to undress in the dark. My head aches
terribly . . . it must be the spring air . .. Good-night,
dear."
" Good-night, little one !" said Beresteyn, as he kissed
his daughter tenderly. " Nicolaes has just come home,"
he added, "he wanted to see you too."
" Ask him to wait till to-morrow then. My head feels
heavy. I can scarcely hold it up."
"You are not ill, little one ?" asked the father
anxiously.

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

" No, no . .. only oppressed with this first hot breath
of spring."
" Why is not Maria here to undress you. I'll send her."
"Not just now, father. She will come presently.
Her chattering wearied me and I sent her away."
"Well ! good-night again, my girl. God bless you.
You will not see Nicolaes ? "
"Not to-night, father. Tell him I am not well. Good-
night."
Mynheer Beresteyn went away at last, not before
Gilda feared that she must drop or faint under the stress
of this nerve-racking situation.
Even now when at last she was alone, when once
again she was able to close and bolt the door, she could
scarcely stand. She leaned against the wall with eyes
closed, and heart that beat so furiously and so fast that
she thought she must choke.
The sound of her father's footsteps died away along the
corridor. She heard him opening and shutting a door at
the further end of the passage, where there were two
or three living-rooms and his own sleeping chamber.
For awhile now the house was still, so still that she could
almost hear those furious heart-beats beneath her gown.
Then only did she dare to move. With noiseless steps
she crossed the room to that recess in the wall hidden by
the gay-flowered cotton curtains.
She paused close beside these;
"My lord ! " she called softly.
No answer.
" My lord ! my father has gone ! you are in no danger
for the moment ! "
Still no answer, and as she paused, straining her ears
to listen, she caught the sound of slow and regular breath-
ing. Going back to the table she took up the candle,
then with it in her hand she returned to the recess and
gently drew aside the curtain. The light from the candle
fell full upon Stoutenburg's face. Inexpressibly weary,
exhausted both bodily and mentally, not even the immin-
ence of present danger had succeeded in keeping him
awake. The moment that he felt the downy pillow

THE PROLOGUE

under his head, he had dropped off to sleep as peacefully
as he used to do years ago before the shadow of pre-
meditated crime had left its impress on his wan face.
Gilda, looking down on him, sought in vain in the harsh
and haggard features, the traces of those boyish good
looks which had fascinated her years ago , she tried in
vain to read on those thin, set lips those words of passionate
affection which had so readily flown from them then.
She put down the candle again and drew a chair close
to the bed, then she sat down and waited.
And he slept on calmly, watched over by the woman
whom he had so heartlessly betrayed. All love for him
had died out in her heart ere this, but pity was there
now, and she was thankful that it had been in her power
to aid him at the moment of his most dire peril.
But that danger still existed of course. The household
was still astir and the servants not yet all abed. Gilda
could hear Jakob, the old henchman, making his rounds,
seeing that all the lights were safely out, the bolts pushed
home and chains securely fastened, and Maria might
come back at any moment, wondering why her mistress
had not yet sent for her. Nicolaes too was at home,
and had already said that he wished to see his sister.
She tried to rouse the sleeping man, but he lay there
like a log. She dared not speak loudly to him or to
call his name, and all her efforts at shaking him by the
shoulder failed to waken him.
Lonely and seriously frightened now Gilda fell on her
knees beside the bed. Clasping her hands she tried to
pray. Surely God could not leave a young girl in such
terrible perplexity, when her only sin had been an act of
mercy. The candle on the bureau close by burnt low
in its socket and its flickering) light outlined her delicate
profile and the soft tendrils of hair that escaped from
beneath her coif. Her eyes were closed in the endeavour
to concentrate her thoughts, and time flew by swiftly
while she tried to pray. She did not perceive that after
awhile the Lord of Stoutenburg woke and that he remained
for a lcng time in mute contemplation of the exquisite
picture which she presented, clad all in white, with the

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

string of pearls still round her throat, her hands clasped,
her lips parted breathing a silent prayer.
" How beautiful you are, Gilda ! " he murmured quite
involuntarily at last.
Then-as suddenly startled and terrified, she tried to
jump up quickly, away from him-he put out his hand
and succeeded in capturing her wrists and thus holding
her pinioned and still kneeling close beside him.
"An angel of goodness," he said, "and exquisitely
beautiful."
At his words, at the renewed pressure of his hand
upon her wrists she made a violent effort to recover her
composure.
"I pray you, my lord, let go my hands. They were
clasped in prayer for your safety. You slept so soundly
that I feared I could not wake you in order to tell you
that you must leave this house instantly."
" I will go, Gilda," he said quietly, making no attempt
to move or to relax his hold on her, "for this brief
interval of sleep, your kind ministrations and the food
you gave me have already put new strength into me.
And the sight of you kneeling and praying near me has
put life into me again."
"Then, since you are better," she rejoined coldly, " I
pray you rise, my lord, and make ready to go. The
garden is quite lonely, the Oude Gracht at its furthest
boundary is more lonely still. The hour is late and the
city is asleep . . . you would be quite safe now."
" Do not send me away yet, Gilda, just when a breath
of happiness-the first I have tasted for four years-
has been wafted from heaven upon me. May I not stay
here awhile and live for a brief moment in a dream which
is born of unforgettable momories ? "
" It is not safe for you to stay here, my lord," she said
coldly.
" My lord ? You used to call me Willem once."
"That was long ago, my lord, ere you gave Walburg
de Marnix the sole right to call you by tender names."
"She has deserted me, Gilda. Fled from me like a
coward, leaving me to bear my misery alone."

"She shared your misery for four years, my lord; it
was your disgrace that she could not endure."
" You knew then that she had left me ? "
" My father had heard of it."
"Then you know that I am a free man again ? "
" The law no doubt will soon make you so."
"The law has already freed me through Walburg's
own act of desertion. You know our laws as well as
I do, Gilda. If you have any doubt ask your own father
whose business it is to administer them. Walburg de
Marnix has set me free, free to begin a new life, free to
follow at last the dictates of my heart."
" For the moment, my lord," she retorted coldly, " you
are not free even to live your old life."
"I would not live it again, Gilda, now that I have
seen you again. The past seems even now to be falling
away from me. Dreams and memories are stronger
than reality. And you, Gilda ... have you for-
gotten ? "
" I have forgotten nothing, my lord."
"Our love-your vows-that day in June when you
yielded your lips to my kiss ? "
" Nor that dull autumnal day, my lord, when I heard
from the lips of strangers that in order to further your
own ambitious schemes you had cast me aside like a useless
shoe, and had married another won n who was richer
and of nobler birth than I."
She had at last succeeded in freeing herself from his
grasp, and had risen to her feet, and retreated further
and further away from him until she stood up now against
the opposite wall, her slender white form lost in the
darkness, her whispered words only striking clearly on
his ear.
He too rose from the bed and drew up his tall lean
figure with a gesture still expressive of that ruthless
ambition with which Gilda had taunted him.
"My marriage then was pure expediency, Gilda," he
said with a shrug of the shoulders. " My father, whose
differences with the Stadtholder were reaching their
acutest stage, had need of the influence of Marnix de

THEF PROLOGUE

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

St. Aldegonde; my marriage with Walburg de Marnix
was done in my father's interests and went sorely against
my heart . . . it is meet and natural that she herself
should have severed a tie which was one only in name.
A year hence from now, the law grants me freedom
to contract a new marriage tie; my love for you, Gilda,
is unchanged."
"And mine for you, my lord, is dead."
He gave a short, low laugh in which there rang a strange
note of triumph.
" Dormant mayhap, Gilda," he said as he groped his way
across the darkened room and tried to approach her.
" Your ears have been poisoned by your father's hatred
of me. Let me but hold you once more in my arms,
let me but speak to you once again of the past, and you
will forget all save your real love for me."
-" All this is senseless talk, my lord," she said coldly,
"your life at this moment hangs upon the finest thread
that destiny can weave. Human bloodhounds you said
were upon your track; they have not wholly lost the
scent, remember."
Her self-possession acted like a fall of icy-cold water
upon the ardour of his temper. Once more that hunted
look came into his face; he cast furtive, frightened
glances around him, peering into the gloom, as if enemies
might be lurking in every dark recess.
"They shall not have me," he muttered through set
teeth, "not to-night . . . not now that life again holds
out to me a cup brimful of happiness. I will go, Gilda,
just as you command . . . they shall not find me . . .
I have something to live for now . . . you and revenge
.... My father, my brother, my friends, I shall avenge
them all--that treacherous Stadtholder shall not escape
from my hatred the second time. Then will I have
power, wealth, a great name to offer you. Gilda, you
will remember me ? "
" I will remember you, my lord, as one who has passed
out of my life. My playmate of long ago, the man whom
I once loved, is dead to me. He who would stain his
hands with blood is hateful in my sight. Go, go, my

THE PROLOGUE

lord, I entreat you, ere you make my task of helping
you to life and safety harder than I can bear."
She ran to the window and threw it open, then pointed
out into the night.
" There lies your way, my lord. God only knows if
I do right in not denouncing you even now to my
father."
" You will not denounce me, Gilda," he said, drawing
quite near to her, now that he could see her graceful
figure silhouetted against the starlit sky, "you will not
denounce me for, unknown mayhap even to yourself,
your love for me is far from dead. As for me I feel that
I have never loved as I love you now. Your presence
has intoxicated me, your nearness fills my brain as with
a subtle, aromatic wine. All thought of my own danger
fades before my longing to hold you just for one instant
close to my heart, to press for one brief yet eternal second
my lips against yours. Gilda, I love you ! "
His arms quickly closed round her, she felt his hot
breath against her cheek. For one moment did she close
her eyes, for she felt sick and faint, but the staunch valour
of that same Dutch blood which had striven and fought
and endured and conquered throughout the ages past
gave her just that courage, just that presence of mind
which she needed.
" An you do not release me instantly," she said firmly,
" I will rouse the house with one call."
Then, as his arms instinctively dropped away from her
and he drew back with a muttered curse :
" Go !" she said, once more pointing toward the
peaceful and distant horizon now wrapped in the veil of
night. "Go! while I still have the strength to keep
silent, save for a prayer for your safety."
Her attitude was so firm, her figure so rigid, that he
knew that inevitably he must obey. His life was in
danger, not hers; and she had of a truth but little to
fear from him. He bowed his head in submission and
humility, then he bent the knee and raising her gown to
his lips he imprinted a kiss upon the hem. The next
moment he had swung himself lightly upon the window

28 THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
sill, from whence he dropped softly upon the ground
below.
For a few minutes longer she remained standing beside
the open window, listening to his footfall on the flagged
path. She could just distinguish his moving form from
the surrounding gloom, as he crept along the shadows
towards the boundary of the garden. Then as for one
brief minute she saw his figure outlined above the garden
wall, she closed the window very slowly and turned
away from it.
The next moment she was lying in a swoon across the
floor of her room.

THE ADVENTURE

CHAPTER I

NEW YEAR'S EVE

IF the snow had come down again or the weather been
colder, or wetter, or other than it was . . .
If one of the three men had been more thirsty, or the
other more insistent .. .
If it had been any other day of the year, or any other
hour of any other day .. .
If the three philosophers had taken their walk abroad
in any other portion of the city of Haarlem . ..
If .. .
Nay ! but there's no end to the Ifs which I might
adduce in order to prove to you beyond a doubt that
but for an extraordinary conglomeration of minor circum-
stances, the events which I am about to relate neither
would nor could ever have taken place.
For indeed you must admit that had the snow come
down again or the weather been colder, or wetter, the
three philosophers would mayhap all have felt that price-
less thirst and desire for comfort which the interior of a
well-administered tavern doth so marvellously assuage.
And had it been any other day of the year or any other
hour of that same last day of the year 1623, those three
philosophers would never have thought of wiling away
the penultimate hour of the dying year by hanging round
the Grootemarkt in order to see the respectable mynheer
burghers and the mevrouws their wives, filing into the
cathedral in a sober and orderly procession, with large
29

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

silver-clasped Bibles under their arms, and that air of
satisfied unctuousness upon their faces which is best
suited to the solemn occasion of watch-night service, and
the desire to put oneself right with Heaven before com-
mencing a New Year of commercial and industrial
activity.
And had those three philosophers not felt any desire
to watch this same orderly procession they would probably
have taken their walk abroad in another portion of the
city from whence . . .
But now I am anticipating.
Events crowded in so thickly and so fast, during the
last hour of the departing year and the first of the newly-
born one, that it were best mayhap to proceed with their
relation in the order in which they occurred.
For, look you, the links of a mighty chain had their
origin on the steps of the Stadhuis, for it is at the foot
of these that three men were standing precisely at the
moment when the bell of the cathedral struck the pen-
ultimate hour of the last day of the year 1623.
Mynheer van der Meer, Burgomaster of Haarlem, was
coming down those same steps in the company of Mynheer
van Zilcken, Mynheer Beresteyn and other worthy gentle-
men, all members of the town council and all noted for
their fine collections of rare tulips, the finest in the
whole of the province of Holland.
There was great rivalry between Mynheer van der
Meer, Mynheer van Zilcken and Mynheer Beresteyn on
the subject of their tulip bulbs, on which they expended
thousands of florins every year. Some people held that
the Burgomaster had exhibited finer specimens of " Semper
Augustus" than any horticulturist in the land, while
others thought that the "Schwarzer Kato" shown by
Mynheer Beresteyn had been absolutely without a rival.
And as this group of noble councillors descended the
steps of the Stadhuis, preparatory to joining their wives
at home and thence escorting them to the watch-night
service at the cathedral, their talk was of tulips and of
tulip bulbs, of the specimens which they possessed and
the prices which they had paid for these.

NEW YEAR'S EVE

" Fourteen thousand florins did I pay for my ' Schwar-
zer Kato' " said Mynheer Beresteyn complacently, " and
now I would not sell it for twenty thousand."
" There's a man up at Overveen who has a new hybrid
now, a sport of ' Schone Juffrouw '-the bulb has matured
to perfection, he is putting it up for auction next week,"
said Mynheer van Zilcken.
" It will fetch in the open market sixteen thousand
at least," commented Mynheer van der Meer sententi-
ously.
" I would give that for it and more," rejoined the other,
"if it is as perfect as the man declares it to be."
"Too late," now interposed Mynheer Beresteyn with
a curt laugh, "I purchased the bulb from the man at
Overveen this afternoon. He did not exaggerate its
merits. I never saw a finer bulb."
"You bought it ? " exclaimed the Burgomaster in
tones that were anything but friendly toward his fellow
councillor.
"This very afternoon," replied the other. "I have
it in the inner pocket of my doublet at this moment."
And he pressed his hand to his side, making sure that
the precious bulb still reposed next to his heart.
"I gave the lout fifteen thousand florins for it," he
added airily, "he was glad not to take the risks of an
auction, and I equally glad to steal a march on my
friends."
The three men who were leaning up against the wall of
the Stadhuis, and who had overheard this conversation,
declared subsequently that they learned then and there
an entirely new and absolutely comprehensive string of
oaths, the sound of which they had never even known of
before, from the two solemn and sober town councillors
who found themselves baulked of a coveted prize. But
this I do not altogether believe; for the three eaves-
droppers had already forgotten more about swearing than
all the burghers of Haarlem put together had ever
known.
In the meantime the town councillors had reached the
foot of the steps; here they parted company and there

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

was a marked coldness in the manner of some of them
toward Mynheer Beresteyn who still pressed his hand
against his doublet, in the inner pocket of which reposed
a bit of dormant vegetation for which he had that same
afternoon paid no less a sum than fifteen thousand
florins.
"There goes a lucky devil," said a mocking voice in
tones wherein ripples of laughter struggled for ever for
mastery. It came from one of the three men who had
listened to the conversation between the town councillors
on the subject of tulips and of tulip bulbs.
"To think," he continued, "that I have never even
seen as much as fifteen thousand florins all at once. By
St. Bavon himself do I swear that for the mere handling
of so much money I would be capable of the most heroic
deeds ... such as killing my worst enemy . .. or . . .
or ... knocking that obese and self-complacent
councillor in the stomach."
" Say but the word, good Diogenes," said a gruff voice
in response, " the lucky devil ye speak of need not remain
long in possession of that bulb. He hath name Beresteyn.
. . . I think I know whereabouts he lives . . . the hour
is late . .. the fog fairly dense in the narrow streets of
the city . . . say but the word . .."
"There is an honest man I wot of in Amsterdam,"
broke in a third voice, one which was curiously high-
pitched and dulcet in its tones, " an honest dealer of
Judaic faith, who would gladly give a couple of thousand
for the bulb and ask no impertinent questions."
"Say but the word, Diogenes ..." reiterated the
gruff voice solemnly.
"And the bulb is ours," concluded the third speaker
in his quaint high-pitched voice.
" And three philosophers will begin the New Year with
more money in their wallets than they would know what
to do with," said he of the laughter-filled voice. "'Tis
a sound scheme, O Pythagoras, and one that under
certain circumstances would certainly commend itself
to me. But just now . .."
"Well ? " queried the two voices--the gruff and the

NEW YEAR'S EVE

high-pitched-simultaneously, like a bassoon and a flute
in harmony, " just now what ? "
" Just now, worthy Socrates and wise Pythagoras, I have
three whole florins in my wallet, and my most pressing
creditor died a month ago-shot by a Spanish arquebuse
at the storming of Breda-he fell like a hero-God rest
his soul! But as to me I can afford a little while-at
any rate for to-night-to act like a gentleman rather than
a common thief."
"Bah!" came in muffled and gruff tones of disgust,
" you might lend me those three florins-'twere the act of a
gentleman . . ."
" An act moreover which would effectually free me from
further scruples, eh ? " laughed the other gaily.
"The place is dull," interposed the flute-like tones,
" 'twill be duller still if unworthy scruples do cause us to
act like gentlemen."
"Why! 'tis the very novelty of the game that will
save our lives from dullness," said Diogenes lightly,
"just let us pretend to be gentlemen for this one night.
I assure you that good philosophers though ye both are,
you will find zest in the entertainment."
It is doubtful whether this form of argument would
have appealed to the two philosophers in question. The
point was never settled, for at that precise moment
Chance took it on herself to forge the second link in that
remarkable chain of events which I have made it my
duty to relate.
From across the Grootemarkt, there where stands the
cathedral backed by a network of narrow streets, there
came a series of ear-piercing shrieks, accompanied by
threatening cries and occasional outbursts of rough,
mocking laughter.
" A row," said Socrates laconically.
" A fight," suggested Pythagoras.
Diogenes said nothing. He was already halfway across
the Markt. The others followed him as closely as they
could. His figure, which was unusually tall and broad,
loomed weirdly out of the darkness and out of the fog
ahead of them, and his voice with that perpetual undertone

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

of merriment rippling through it, called to them from time
to time.
Now he stopped, waiting for his companions. The
ear-piercing shrieks, the screams and mocking laughter
came more distinctly to their ears, and from the several
by-streets that gave on the Market Place, people came
hurrying along, attracted by the noise.
"Let us go round behind the Fleischmarkt," said
Diogenes, as soon as his two friends had come within
earshot of him, " and reach the rear of the cathedral that
way. Unless I am greatly mistaken the seat of yonder
quarrel is by a small postern gate which I spied awhile
ago at the corner of Dam Straat and where methinks I
saw a number of men and women furtively gaining
admittance: they looked uncommonly like Papists and
the postern gate not unlike a Romanist chapel door."
" Then there undoubtedly will be a row," said Socrates
dryly.
"And we are no longer likely to find the place dull,"
concluded Pythagoras in a flute-like voice.
And the three men, pulling their plumed hats well over
their eyes, turned off without hesitation in the wake of
their leader. They had by tacit understanding unsheathed
their swords and were carrying them under the folds of
their mantles. They walked in single file, for the street
was very narrow, the gabled roofs almost meeting over-
head at their apex, their firm footsteps made no sound on
the thick carpet of snow. The street was quite deserted
and the confused tumult in the Dam Straat only came
now as a faint and distant echo.
Thus walking with rapid strides the three men soon
found themselves once more close to the cathedral: it
loomed out of the fog on their left and the cries and
the 'laughter on ahead sounded once more clear and shrill.
The words " for the love of Christ ! " could be easily
distinguished; uttered pleadingly at intervals and by a
woman's voice they sounded ominous, more especially
as they were invariably followed by cries of " Spaniards !
Spies ! Papists! " and a renewal of loud and ribald
laughter.

NEW YEAR'S EVE

The leader of the little party had paused once more, his
long legs evidently carried him away faster than he
intended: now he turned to his friends and pointed with
his hand and sword on ahead.
" Now, wise Pythagoras," he said, " wilt thou not have
enjoyment and to spare this night ? Thou didst shower
curses on this fog-ridden country, and call it insufferably
dull. Lo! what a pleasing picture doth present itself
to our gaze."
Whether the picture was pleasing or not depended
entirely from the point of view of spectator or participant.
Certes it was animated and moving and picturesque ; and
as three pairs of eyes beneath three broad-brimmed hats
took in its several details, three muffled figures uttered
three simultaneous gurgles of anticipated pleasure.
In the fog that hung thickly in the narrow street it was
at first difficult to distinguish exactly what was going on.
Certain it is that a fairly dense crowd, which swelled
visibly every moment as idlers joined in from many sides,
had congregated at the corner of Dam Straat, there
where a couple of resin torches, fixed in iron brackets
against a tall stuccoed wall, shed a flickering and elusive
light on the forms and faces of a group of men in the
forefront of the throng.
The faces thus exposed to view appeared flushed and
heated-either with wine or ebullient temper-whilst
the upraised arms, the clenched fists and brandished
staves showed a rampant desire to do mischief.
There was a low postern gate in the wall just below the
resin torches. The gate was open and in the darkness
beyond vague moving forms could be seen huddled
together in what looked like a narrow unlighted passage.
It was from this huddled mass of humanity that the wails
and calls for divine protection proceeded, whilst the
laughter and the threats came from the crowd.
From beneath three broad-brimmed hats there once
more came three distinct chuckles of delight and three
muffled figures hugged naked swords more tightly under
their cloaks.

CHAPTER II

THE FRACAS BY THE POSTERN GATE

THUS am I proved right in saying that but for the con-
glomeration of minor circumstances within the past half
hour, the great events which subsequently linked the
fate of a penniless foreign adventurer with that of a
highly honourable and highly esteemed family of Haarlem
never would or could have occurred.
For had the three philosophers adhered to their usual
custom of retiring to the warmth and comfort of the
" Lame Cow," situate in the Kleine Hout Straat, as soon
as the streets no longer presented an agreeable lolling
place, they would never have known of the tumult that
went on at this hour under the very shadow of the
cathedral.
But seeing it all going on before them, what could they
do but join in the fun ?
The details of the picture which had the low postern
gate for its central interest were gradually becoming
more defined. Now the figure of a woman showed clearly
under the flickering light of the resin torches, a woman
with rough, dark hair that hung loosely round her face,
and bare arms and legs, of which the flesh, blue with cold,
gleamed weirdly against the dark oak panelling of the gate.
She was stooping forward, with arms outstretched and
feet that vainly tried to keep a foothold of the ground
which snow and frost had rendered slippery. The hands
themselves were not visible, for one of them was lost in
the shadows behind her and the other disappeared in the
grip of six or eight rough hands.
36

THE FRACAS BY THE POSTERN GATE 37.
Through the mist and in the darkness it was impossible
to see whether the woman was young or old, handsome or
ill-favoured, but her attitude was unmistakable. The
men in the forefront of the crowd were trying to drag her
away from the shelter of the gate to which she clung with
desperate obstinacy.
Her repeated cries of "For the love of Christ ! " only
provoked loud and bibulous laughter. Obviously she
was losing her hold of the ground, and was gradually
being dragged out into the open.
" For the love of Christ, let me go, kind sirs ! "
" Come out quietly then," retorted one of the men in
front, " let's have a look at you."
"We only want to see the colour of your eyes," said
another with mock gallantry.
" Are you Spanish spies or are you not ? that's all that
we want to know," added a third. " How many black-
eyed wenches are there among ye ? Papists we know you
are."
"Papists ! Spanish spies! " roared the crowd in
unison.
"Shall we bait the Papists too, O Diogenes? " came
in dulcet tones from out the shadow of the stuccoed
wall.
" Bah ! women and old men, and only twenty of these,"
said his companion with a laugh and a shrug of his broad
shoulders, "whilst there are at least an hundred of the
others."
"More amusing certainly," growled Socrates under
the brim of his hat.
"For the love of Christ," wailed the woman piteously,
as her bare feet buried in the snow finally slid away from
the protecting threshold, and she appeared in the full light
of the resin torches, with black unkempt hair, ragged shift
and kirtle and a wild terror-stricken look in her black
eyes.
"Black eyes ! I guessed as much ! " shouted one of
the men excitedly. "Spaniards I tell you, friends!
Spanish spies all of them ! Out you come, wench ! out
you come ! "

$8 THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
" Out you come!" yelled the crowd. "Papists!
Spanish spies ! "
The woman gave a scream of wild terror as half a dozen
stones hurled from the rear of the crowd over the heads
of the ringleaders came crashing against the wall and the
gate all around her.
One of these stones was caught in mid air.
" I thank thee, friend," cried a loud, mocking voice that
rang clearly above the din, " my nose was itching and
thou didst strive to tickle it most effectually. Tell me
does thine itch too ? Here's a good cloth wherewith to
wipe it."
And the stone was hurled back into the thick of the
crowd by a sure and vigorous hand even whilst a pro-
longed and merry laugh echoed above the groans and
curses of the throng.
For an instant after that the shouts and curses were
still, the crowd-as is usual in such cases-pausing to
see whence this unexpected diversion had come. But all
that could be seen for the moment was a dark compact mass
of plumed hats and mantles standing against the wall, and
a triple glint as of steel peeping from out the shadows.
" By St. Bavon, the patron saint of this goodly city,
but here's a feast for philosophers," said that same
laughter-loving voice, "four worthy burghers grappling
with a maid. Let go her arm I say or four pairs of hands
will presently litter the corner of this street, and forty
fingers be scattered amongst the refuse. Pythagoras,
wilt take me at two guilders to three that I can cut off
two of these ugly, red hands with one stroke of Bucephalus
whilst Socrates and thou thyself wilt only account for one
apiece ? "
Whilst the merry voice went rippling on in pleasant
mocking tones, the crowd had had ample time to recover
itself and to shake off its surprise. The four stalwarts on
in front swore a very comprehensive if heterogeneous
oath. One of them did certainly let go the wench's arm
so!ewhat hastily, but seeing that his companions had
recovered courage and the use of their tongue, he swore
once again and more loudly this time.

THE FRACAS BY THE POSTERN GATE 39
"By that same St. Bavon," he shouted, "who is this
smeerlap whose interference I for one deeply resent?
Come out, girl, and show thyself at once, we'll deal with
thy protector later."
After which there were some lusty shouts of applause
at this determined attitude, shouts that were interrupted
by a dulcet high-pitched voice saying quietly :
" I take thee, friend Diogenes. Two guilders to three :
do thou strike at the pair of hands nearest to thee and
while I count three . . ."
From the torches up above there came a sharp glint
of light as it struck three steel blades, that swung out into
the open.
" One-two--"
Four pairs of hands, which had been dragging on the
woman's arm with such determined force, disappeared
precipitately into the darkness, and thus suddenly
released, the woman nearly fell backwards against the gate.
"Pity ! " said the dulcet voice gently, "that bet will
never be decided now."
An angry murmur of protest rose from the crowd. The
four men who had been the leaders of the gang were
pushed forward from the rear amidst shouts of derision
and brandishing of fists.
"Cowards ! cowards! cowards ! Jan Tiele, art not
ashamed ? Piet, go for them ! There are only three !
Cowards to let yourselves be bullied ! "
The crowd pushed from behind. The street being
narrow, it could only express its desire for a fight by
murmurs and by shouts, it had no elbow-room for it, and
could only urge those in the forefront to pick a quarrel
with the interfering strangers.
"The blessing of God upon thee, stranger, and of the
Holy Virgin . . ." came in still quivering accents from
out the darkness of the passage.
"Let the Holy Virgin help thee to hold thy tongue,"
retorted he who had name Diogenes, " and do thou let my
friend Socrates close this confounded door."
"Jan Tiele ! " shouted some one in the crowd, " dost
see what they are doing ? the gate is being closed . ."

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

" And bolted," said a flute-like voice.
" Stand aside, strangers ! " yelled the crowd.
"We are not in your way," came in calm response.
The three muffled figures side by side in close if some-
what unnumerical battle array had taken their stand in
front of the postern gate, the heavy bolts of which were
heard falling into their sockets behind them with a loud
clang. A quivering voice came at the last from behind
the iron judas in the door.
" God will reward ye, strangers ! we go pray for you to
the Holy Virgin . . ."
"Nay!" rejoined Diogenes lightly, "'twere wiser to
pray for Jan Tiele, or for Piet or their mates-some of
them will have need of prayers in about five minutes
from now."
" Shame! cowards ! plepshurk ! At them, Jan ! Piet !
Willem ! " shouted the crowd lustily.
Once more stones were freely hurled followed by a
regular fusillade of snowballs. One of these struck the
crown of a plumed hat and knocked it off the wearer's
head. A face, merry, a trifle fleshy perhaps, but with
fine, straight brow, eyes that twinkled and mocked and
a pair of full, joyous lips adorned by a fair upturned
moustache, met the gaze of an hundred glowering eyes
and towered half a head above the tallest man there.
As his hat fell to the ground, the man made a formal
bow to the yelling and hooting crowd :
" Since one of you has been so kind as to lift my hat
for me, allow me formally to present myself and my
friends here. I am known to my compeers and to mine
enemies as Diogenes," he said gravely, "a philosopher
of whom mayhap ye have never heard. On my left
stands Pythagoras, on my right Socrates. We are all
at your service, including even my best friend who is
slender and is made of steel and hath name Bucephalus-
he tells me that within the next few minutes he means
to become intimately acquainted with Dutch guts, unless
ye disperse and go peaceably back to church and pray
God to forgive ye this act of cowardice on New Year's
eve ! "

THE FRACAS BY THE POSTERN GATE 41
The answer was another volley of stones, one of which
hit Socrates on the side of the head.
"With the next stone that is hurled," continued
Diogenes calmly, " I will smash Jan Tiele's nose: and if
more than one come within reach of my hand, then
Willem's nose shall go as well."
The warning was disregarded: a shower of stones
came crashing against the wall just above the postern gate.
" How badly these Dutchmen throw," growled Socrates
in his gruff voice.
" This present from thy friends in the rear, Jan Tiele,"
rejoined Diogenes, as he seized that worthy by the collar
and brandished a stone which he had caught in its flight.
" 'Tis they obviously who do not like the shape of thy
nose, else they had not sent me the wherewithal to flatten
if for thee."
" I'll do that, good Diogenes," said Pythagoras gently,
as he took both the stone and the struggling Jan Tiele
from his friend's grasp, " and Socrates will see to Willem
at the same time. No trouble, I give thee my word--I
like to do these kind of jobs for my friends."
An awful and prolonged howl from Jan Tiele and from
Willem testified that the jobs had been well done.
" Papists ! Spaniards ! Spies!" roared the crowd,
now goaded to fury.
"Bucephalus, I do humbly beg thy pardon," said
Diogenes as he rested the point of his sword for one moment
on the frozen ground, then raised it and touched it with
his forehead and with his lips, "I apologize to thee for
using thee against such rabble."
"More stones please," came in a shrill falsetto from
Pythagoras, "here's Piet whose nose is itching fit to
make him swear."
He was a great adept at catching missiles in mid-air.
These now flew thick and fast, stones, short staves, heavy
leather pouches as well as hard missiles made of frozen
snow. But the throwers were hampered by one another :
they had no elbow-room in this narrow street.
The missiles for the most part fell wide of the mark.
Still ! the numbers might tell in the end. Socrates' face

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

was streaming with blood: a clump of mud and snow
had extinguished one of the torches, and a moment ago
a stone had caught Diogenes on the left shoulder.
The three men stood close together, sword in hand.
To the excited gaze of the crowd they scarcely seemed to
be using their swords or to heed those of their aggressors
who came threateningly nigh. They stood quite quietly
up against the wall hardly making a movement, their
sword hand and wrist never appeared to stir, but many
who had been in the forefront had retired howling and the
snow all around was deeply stained with red: Jan Tiele
and Willem had broken noses and Piet had lost one ear.
The three men were hatless and the faces of two of
them were smeared with blood. The third-taller and
broader than the others-stood between them, and with
those that pressed him closely he bandied mocking
words.
" Spaniards ! Papists !" yelled the crowd.
" If I hear those words again," he retorted pleasantly,
" I'll run three of you through on Bucephalus as on a
spit, and leave you thus ready for roasting in hell. We
are no Spaniards. My father was English and my friend
Pythagoras here was born in a donkey shed, whilst Socrates
first saw the light of day in a travelling menagerie. So
we are none of us Spaniards, and you can all disperse."
" Papists ! "
"And if I hear that again I'll send the lot of you to
hell."
" Art thou Samson then, to think thyself so strong ? "
shouted a shrill voice close to him.
" Give me thy jawbone and I'll prove thee that I
am," he retorted gaily.
" Spies ! " they cried.
" Dondersteen!" he shouted in his turn, swearing
lustily, " I am tired of this rabble. Disperse ! disperse,
I tell ye ! Bucephalus, my friend wilt have a taste of
Dutch guts ? Another ear ? a nose or two ? What, ye
will not go ? "
" Spaniards ! Spies ! Papists !"
The crowd was gathering unto itself a kind of fury

THE FRACAS BY THE POSTERN GATE 43
that greatly resembled courage. Those that were behind
pushed and those that were in front could no longer
retreat. Blood had begun to flow more freely and the
groans of the wounded had roused the bellicose instincts
of those whose skin was still whole. One or two of the
more venturesome had made close and gruesome acquaint-
ance with the silent but swift Bucephalus, whilst from
the market place in the rear the numbers of the crowd
thus packed in this narrow street corner swelled danger-
ously. The new comers did not know what had happened
before their arrival. They could not see over the heads
of the crowd what was going on at this moment. So
they pushed from behind and the three combatants with
their backs against the wall had much difficulty in keeping
a sufficiently wide circle around them to allow their
swords free play.
Already Socrates, dizzy from the blood that was
streaming down his sharp, hooked nose, had failed to
keep three of his foremost assailants at bay : he had been
forced to yield one step and then another, and the elbow
of his sword arm was now right up against the wall.
Pythagoras, too, was equally closely pressed, and Diogenes
had just sent an over-bold lout sprawling on the ground.
The noise was deafening. Every one was shouting, many
were screaming or groaning. The town guard, realizing
at last that a tumult of more than usual consequence was
going on in some portion of the city, had decided to go and
interfere; their slow and weighty steps and the clang of
their halberds could be heard from over the Grootemarkt
during the rare moments when shouts and clamour
subsided for a few seconds only to be upraised again with
redoubled power.
Then suddenly cries of " Help ! " were raised from the
further end of Dam Straat, there where it debouches on
the bank of the Spaarne. It was a woman's voice that
raised the cry, but men answered it with calls for the
guard. The tumult in front of the postern gate now
reached its climax, for the pressure from behind had
become terrible, and men and women were being knocked
down and trampled on. It seemed as if the narrow

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

street could not hold another human soul, and yet appar-
ently more and more were trying to squeeze into the
restricted space. The trampled, frozen snow had become
as slippery as a sheet of glass, and if the guard with their
wonted ponderous clumsiness charged into the crowd
with halberds now, then Heaven help the weak who could
not elbow a way out for themselves; they would be sure
to be trampled under foot.
Every one knew that on such occasions many a corpse
littered the roads when finally the crowd disappeared.
Those of sober sense realized all this, but they were but
small units in this multitude heated with its own rage,
and intoxicated with the first hope of victory. The three
strangers who, bare-headed, still held their ground with
their backs to the wall were obviously getting exhausted.
But a little more determination--five minutes respite
before the arrival of the guard, a few more stones skilfully
hurled and the Papists, Spaniards or Spies--whatever
they were-would have paid dearly for their impudent
interference.
" Papists, have ye had enough ? " yelled the crowd in
chorus as a stone well thrown hit the sword arm of the
tallest of the three men-he whose mocking voice had
never ceased its incessant chatter.
" Not nearly enough," he replied loudly, as he quietly
transferred faithful Bucephalus from his right hand to
his left.
" We are just beginning to enjoy ourselves," came in
dulcet tones from the small man beside him.
" At them ! at them ! Papists ! Spies!'
Once more a volley of stones.
"Dondersteen! but methinks we might vary the
entertainment," cried Diogenes lustily.
Quicker than a flash of lightning he turned, and once
more grasping Bucephalus in the partially disabled hand
he tore with the other the resin torch out of its iron socket,
and shouting to his two companions to hold their ground
he, with the guttering lighted torch, charged straight
into the crowd.
A wild cry of terror was raised, which echoed and

THE FRACAS BY THE POSTERN GATE 45
re-echoed from one end of the street to the other, reverber-
ated against the cathedral walls, and caused all peaceable
citizens who had found refuge in their homes to thank
the Lord that they were safely within.
Diogenes, with fair hair fluttering over his brow, his
twinkling eyes aglow with excitement, held the torch
well in front of aim, the sparks flew in all directions, the
lustiest aggressors fled to right and left, shrieking with
horror. Fire--that most invincible weapon--had ac-
complished what the finest steel never could have done;
it sobered and terrified the crowd, scattered it like a
flock of sheep, sent it running hither and thither, render-
ing it helpless by fear.
In the space of three minutes the circle round the three
combatants was several metres wide, five minutes later
the corner of the street was clear, except for the wounded
who lay groaning on the ground and one or two hideous
rags of flesh that lay scattered among heaps of stones,
torn wallets, staves and broken sticks.
From the precincts of the Grootemarkt the town
guard were heard using rough language, violent oaths and
pikes and halberds against the stragglers that were only
too eager now to go peaceably back to their homes. The
fear of burnt doublets or kirtles had effectually sobered
these overflowing tempers. There had been enough
Papist baiting to please the most inveterate seeker after
excitement this night.
A few youths, who mayhap earlier in the evening had
indulged too freely in the taverns of the Grootemarkt,
were for resuming the fun after the panic had subsided.
A score of them or so talked it over under the shadow
of the cathedral, but a detachment of town guard spied
their manoeuvres and turned them all back into the
market place.
The bell of the cathedral slowly struck the last hour
of this memorable year; and through the open portals
of the sacred edifice the cathedral choir was heard intoning
the First Psalm.
Like frightened hens that have been scared, and now
venture out again, the worthy burghers of Haarlem

46 THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
sallied out from the by-streets into the Grootemarkt,
on their way to watch-night service: Mynheer the
burgomaster, and mynheer the town advocate, and the
mevrouws their wives, and the town councillors and the
members of the shooting guilds, and the governors and
governesses of the Almshouses. With ponderous Bibles
and prayer-books under their arms, and cloaks of fur
closely wrapped round their shoulders, they once more
filled the Grootemarkt with the atmosphere of their own
solemnity. Their serving men carried the torches in
front of them, waiting women helped the mevrouws in
their unwieldy farthingales to walk on the slippery ground
with becoming sobriety.
The cathedral bells sent forth a merry peal to greet the
incoming year.

CHAPTER III

AN INTERLUDE

AND at the corner of Dam Straat, where the low postern
gate cuts into the tall stuccoed wall, there once more
reigned silence as of the grave.
Those that were hurt and wounded had managed to
crawl away, the town guard had made short work of it
all ; the laws against street brawling and noisy assemblies
were over severe just now; it was best to hide a wound
and go nurse it quietly at home. Fortunately the fog
favoured the disturbers of the peace. Gradually they all
contrived to sneak away, and later on in the night to
sally forth again for watch-night revelries, looking for all
the world as if nothing had happened.
" Tumult ? Papist baiting? Was there really any
Papist baiting this night ? Ah! these foreign adven-
turers do fill our peaceful city with their noise."
In the Dam Straat the fog and the darkness reigned
unchallenged. The second torch lay extinguished on the
ground, trampled out under the heel of a heavy boot.
And in the darkness three men were busy readjusting
their mantles and trying to regain possession of their hats.
" A very unprofitable entertainment," growled Socrates.
" Total darkness, not a soul in sight, and cold fit to
chill the inner chambers of hell," assented Pythagoras.
" And no chance of adding anything to the stock of
three guilders which must suffice us for to-night," con-
cluded Diogenes airily.
He was carefully wiping the shining blade of Buce-
phalus with the corner of Pythagoras' mantle.
47

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

" Verrek jezelf! and what the d----1 ? " queried the
latter in a high falsetto.
" My mantle is almost new," said Diogenes reproach-
fully; " thou would'st not have me soil it so soon ? "
" I have a hole in my head fit to bury those three
guilders in," murmured Socrates, with a sigh.
" And I, a blow in the stomach which has chilled me to
the marrow," sighed Pythagoras.
" And I a bruised shoulder," laughed Diogenes, " which
hath engendered an unquenchable thirst."
" I wouldn't sell my thirst for any money this night,"
assented Pythagoras.
" To the 'Lame Cow,' then, O Pythagoras, and I'll
toss thee for the first drink of hot ale."
" Ugh ! but my head feels mightily hot and thick,"
said Socrates, somewhat huskily.
" Surely thou canst walk as far as the' Lame Cow ? ' "
queried Pythagoras, anxiously.
" I doubt me," sighed the other.
' Ale !" whispered Diogenes, encouragingly ; "warm
sparkling, spicy ale ! "
" Hm ! hm ! " assented the wounded man feebly.
"Easy ! easy, my friend," said Diogenes, for his
brother philosopher had fallen heavily against him.
" What are we to do ? " moaned Pythagoras, in his
dulcet tones. "I have a thirst . . . and we cannot
leave this irresponsible fool to faint here in the fog."
" Hoist him up by the seat of his breeches then, on to
my back," retorted Diogenes lightly. "The ' Lame
Cow' is not far, and I too have a thirst."
Socrates would have protested. He did not relish the
idea of being tossed about like a bale of goods on his
friend's back. But he could only protest by word of
mouth, to which the others paid no heed; and when he
tried to struggle he rolled, dizzy and faint, almost to the
ground.
" There's nothing for it," piped Pythagoras with
consummate philosophy. "I couldn't carry him if I
tried."
Diogenes bent his broad back and rested his hands on

AN INTERLUDE

his thighs, getting as firm hold of the slippery ground as
he could. Socrates for the moment was like a helpless
log. There was much groping about in the darkness,
a good deal of groaning, and a vast amount of swearing.
Socrates had, fortunately, not fainted, and after a little
while was able to settle down astride on his friend's back,
his arms around the latter's neck, Pythagoras giving
vigorous pushes from the rear.
When Diogenes, firmly grasping the wounded man's
legs, was at last able to straighten himself out again, and
did so to the accompaniment of a mighty groan and
still more mighty oath, he found himself confronted by
two lanthorns which were held up within a few inches of
his nose.
"Dondersteen!" he ejaculated loudly, and nearly
dropped his half-conscious and swaying burden on the
ground.
" What is it now, Jakob ? " queried a woman's voice
peremptorily.
" I cannot see clearly, lady," replied one of the lanthorn-
bearers--" two men, I think."
" Then do thy thoughts proclaim thee a liar, friend,"
said Diogenes lightly; "there are three men here at
this lady's service, though one is sick, the other fat, and
the third a mere beast of burden."
" Let me see them, Jakob," ordered the woman. "I
believe they are the same three men who . . . "
The lanthorn-bearers made way for the lady, still
holding the lanthorns up so that the light fell fully on
the quaint spectacle presented by the three philosophers.
There was Socrates perched up aloft, his bird-like face
smeared with blood, his eyes rolling in their effort to
keep open, his thin back bent nearly double so that
indeed he looked like a huge plucked crow the worse for
a fight, and perched on an eminence where he felt none
too secure. And below him his friend with broad
shoulders bending under the burden, his plumed hat
shading his brow, his merry, twinkling eyes fixed a little
suspiciously on the four figures that loomed out of the
fog in front of him, his mocking lips ready framed for a
D

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

smile or an oath, his hands which supported the legs of
poor wounded Socrates struggling visibly toward the hilt
of his sword. And peeping round from behind him the
short, rotund form of Pythagoras, crowned with a tall
sugar-loaf hat which obviously had never belonged to
him until now, for it perched somewhat insecurely above
his flat, round face, with the small, upturned nose slightly
tinged with pink and the tiny eyes, round and bright as
new crowns.
Undoubtedly the sight was ludicrous in the extreme,
and the woman who looked on it now burst into a merry
peal of laughter.
" O Maria ! dost see them ? " she said, turning to her
companion, an elderly woman in sober black gown and
coif of tinsel lace. " Hast ever seen anything so
quaint ? "
She herself was young, and in the soft light of the two
lanthorns appeared to the three philosophers to be more
than passing fair.
"Socrates, thou malapert," said Diogenes sternly,
" take my hat off my head at once, and allow me to
make obeisance to the lady, or I'll drop thee incontinently
on thy back."
Then, as Socrates half mechanically lifted the plumed
hat from his friend's head, the latter bowed as well as he
could under the circumstances and said gallantly :
" Thy servants, lady, and eternally grateful are we for
a sight of thee at this moment when the world appeared
peculiarly fog-ridden and unpleasant. Having been the
fortunate cause of thy merriment, might we now crave
thy permission to continue our way. The weight of my
friend up there is greater than his importance warrants,
and I don't want to drop him ere we reach a haven of
iefuge, where our priceless thirst will soon, I hope, find
solace."
The delicate face of the young girl had suddenly become
more grave.
" Your pardon, gentle sirs," she said, with a pretty
mixture of imperiousness and humility; " my levity was
indeed misplaced. I know ye now for the same three

AN INTERLUDE

brave fellows who were fighting a few moments ago
against overwhelming odds, in order to protect a woman
against a rowdy crowd. Oh, it was a valorous deed l
My men and I were on our way to watch-night service,
and saw it all from a distance. We dared not come nigh,
the rabble looked so threatening. All I could do was to
shout for help, and summon the town guard to your aid.
It was you, was it not ? " she added, regarding with great
wondering blue eyes the three curious figures who stood
somewhat sheepishly before her.
" Yes, fair lady," piped Pythagoras, in his neatest
falsetto, " we were the three men who, in the face of
well-nigh overwhelming odds, did save a defenceless
woman from the insolent rabble. My friend who is
perched up there was severely wounded in the fray, I
myself received so violent a blow in the stomach that a
raging thirst has since taken possession of my throat,
and "
He stopped abruptly and murmured a comprehensive
oath. He had just received a violent kick in the shins
from Diogenes.
" What the h ? " he muttered.
But Diogenes paid no heed to him; looking on the
dainty picture before him, with eyes that twinkled whilst
they did not attempt to conceal the admiration which
he felt, he said, with elaborate gallantry, which his
position under the burden of Socrates' swaying figure
rendered inexpressibly droll:
" For the help rendered to us all at the moment of
distress, deign to accept, mejuffrouw, our humble thanks.
For the rest, believe me, our deed was not one of valour,
and such as it was it is wholly unworthy of the praise
thou dost deign to bestow upon it. I would tell thee
more," he added whimsically, " only that my friend
behind me is violently kicking the calves of my legs,
which renders the elegant flow of language well nigh
impossible. I stopped him talking just now-he retali-
ates . . . it is but just."
" Gentle sir," said the girl, who obviously had much
ado to preserve her gravity, "your modesty doth but

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

equal your gallantry. This do I see quite plainly. But
if at any time I can do aught to express in a more practical
manner the real admiration which I feel for your worth
I pray you command me. Alas! brave men are few
these days ! But my father's name is known through-
out Holland; his wealth and influence are vast. I pray
you tell me, can I do aught for you now ? "
She spoke so artlessly and at the same time with such
gentle dignity, it was small wonder that for the nonce
even the most talkative of all philosophers was dumb,
and that his habitual mocking banter failed to cross his
lips. The girl was young and exquisitely pretty; the
stiff, unwieldy costume of the time failed to conceal
altogether the graceful slenderness of her figure, just as
the prim coif of gold and silver tissue failed to hold the
unruly golden curls in bondage. The light from the
lanthorns fell full on her face, and round her throat,
beneath her fur-lined cloak, there was a glimmer of starched
linen and lace, whilst gems in her ears and on her breast
lent her an air of elegance and even of splendour.
Pythagoras in the rear heaved a deep sigh; he drew
in his breath preparatory to a long and comprehensive
oration. " Can I do aught for ye ? " the lady had said :
a lady who was rich and influential and willing. Ye
thunders and lightnings ! when but three guilders stood
between three philosophers and absolute penury! Ye
hails and storms ! what an opportunity! He would
have approached the lady, only Diogenes' wide shoulders
blocked him out from her view.
" Can I do aught for you now ? " she reiterated gently.
" Raise thy hand to my lips," said Diogenes lightly
" momentarily I have not the use of mine own."
She hesitated, but only for a brief moment, then did
just what he asked. She held her hand to his lips, mayhap
one second longer than was absolutely necessary, and her
eyes, large, deep and shy, looked for that one second into
a pair of merry, mocking ones. Then she sighed, whether
with satisfaction or embarrassment I would not under-
take to say, and asked with a gracious smile:
" And what is your next wish, gentle sir ? "

AN INTERLUDE

"Thy leave to continue our journey to the 'Lame
Cow,' " he replied airily; " my friend up there is getting
damnably heavy."
She drew back, visibly surprised and hurt.
"I do not detain ye," she said curtly, and without
another word she turned to her lanthorn-bearers and
ordered them to precede her; she also called to her
duenna to follow; but she did not bestow another look
on the three men, nor did she acknowledge the respectful
farewell which came from the lips of the beast of
burden.
The next moment she had already crossed the road
toward the cathedral, and she and her escort were swal-
lowed up by the fog.
" Well, of all the d----d idiots that ever . . ." swore
Pythagoras, in his shrillest tones.
Even Socrates pulled himself together in order to
declare emphatically that Diogenes was a confounded
fool.
"I pray thee raise thy hand to my lips," mimicked
Pythagoras mockingly. "Verrek jezelf!" he muttered
under his breath.
" If you do not hold your tongue, O wise Pythagoras,"
retorted Diogenes with all his wonted merriment, " I'll
even have to drop Socrates on the top of you in order to
break your head."
" But 'tis a fortune-the promise of a fortune which
you let slip so stupidly."
" There is a certain wisdom even in stupidity sometimes,
Pythagoras, as you will discover one day, when your
nose is less red and your figure less fat. Remember
that I have three guilders in my pocket, and that our
thirst hath not grown less. Follow me now, we've talked
enough for to-night."
And he started walking down the street with long and
rapid strides, Socrates up aloft swaying about like a
dummy figure in carnival time, and Pythagoras-still
muttering a series of diversified oaths-bringing up the
rear.

CHAPTER IV

WATCH-NIGHT

AND am I not proved fully justified in my statement that
but for many seemingly paltry circumstances, the further
events which I am about to place on record, and which
have been of paramount importance to the history of no
less than two great and worthy families, never would
have shaped themselves as they did.
For who could assert that but for the presence of three
philosophers on the Grootemarkt on the eve of the
New Year, and their subsequent interference in the fray
outside the Papist convent door in the Dam Straat, who
could assert, I say, that but for these minor circumstances
Jongejuffrouw Beresteyn would ever have condescended
to exchange half a dozen words with three out-at-elbows,
homeless, shiftless, foreign adventurers who happened to
have drifted into Haarlem-the Lord only knew for what
purpose and with what hopes.
Jongejuffrouw Beresteyn had been well and rigidly
brought up; she was well educated, and possessed more
knowledge than most young girls of her social standing
or of her age. Mynheer Beresteyn, her father, was a
gentleman of vast consideration in Haarlem, and as his
two children had been motherless as soon as the younger
one saw the light of day, he had been doubly careful in
his endeavours that his daughter should in no way feel
the lack of that tender supervision of which it had pleased
God to deprive her.
Thus she had been taught early in life to keep herself
aloof from all persons save those approved of by her
54

WATCH-NIGHT

father or her brother-a young man of sound under-
standing, some half dozen years older than herself. As
for the strangers who for purposes of commerce or other
less avowable motives filled the town of Haarlem with
their foreign ways-which oft were immoral and seldom
sedate-she had been strictly taught to hold these ii
abhorrence and never to approach such men either with
word or gesture.
Was it likely, then, that she ever would have spoken
to three thriftless knaves ?-and this at a late hour of the
night-but for the fact that she had witnessed their
valour from a distance, and with queenly condescension
hoped to reward them with a gracious word.
The kiss imprinted upon her hand by respectful, if
somewhat bantering, lips had greatly pleased her: such
she imagined would be the homage of a vassal proud to
have attracted the notice of his lady paramount. The
curtly expressed desire to quit her presence, in order to
repair to a tavern, had roused her indignation and her
contempt.
She was angered beyond what the circumstance
warranted, and while the minister preached an admirable
and learned watch-night sermon she felt her attention
drifting away from the discourse and the solemnity of
the occasion, whilst her wrath against a most unworthy
object was taking the place of more pious and charitable
feelings.
The preacher had taken for his text the sublime words
from the New Testament: "The greatest of these is
charity." He thought that the first day of the New
Year was a splendid opportunity for the good inhabitants
of Haarlem to cast off all gossiping and back-biting ways
and to live from this day forth in greater amity and
benevolence with one another. " Love thy neighbour as
thyself " he adjured passionately, and the burghers, with
their vrouws in their Sunday best, were smitten with
remorse of past scandal-mongering, and vowed that in the
future they would live in perfect accord and good-will.
Jongejuffrouw Beresteyn, too, thought of all her friends
and acquaintances with the kindliest of feelings, and she

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

had not a harsh thought for anyone in her heart . ..
not for anyone, at any rate, who was good and deserv-
ing . .'. As for that knavish malapert with the merry,
twinkling eyes and the mocking smile, surely God would
not desire her to be in charity with him ; a more ungrate-
ful, more impertinent wretch she had never met, and it
was quite consoling to think of all that Mynheer Beres-
teyn's influence could have done for those three raga-
muffins, and how in the near future they must all suffer
abominable discomfort, mayhap with shortage of food and
drink, or absence of shelter, when no doubt one of them
at least would remember with contrition the magnanimous
offer of help made to him by gracious lips, and which he
had so insolently refused.
So absorbed was Jongejuffrouw Beresteyn in these
thoughts that she never even noticed that the watch-
night service was over, and the minister already filing
out with the clerk. The general exodus around her
recalled her to herself and also to a sense of contrition
for the absent way in which she had assisted at this
solemn service.
She whispered to Maria to wait for her outside the
church with the men.
"I must yet pray for a little while alone," she said.
" I will join you at the north door in a quarter of an hour."
And she fell on her knees, and was soon absorbed in
prayer.
Maria found the two serving men in the crowd, and
transmitted to them her mistress's orders. The cathedral
had been very full for the service, and the worshippers
took a long time filing out; they lingered about in the
aisles, exchanging bits of city gossip and wishing one
another a happy New Year.
The verger had much ado to drive the goodly people
out of the edifice, no sooner had he persuaded one group
of chatterers to continue their conversation on the Groote-
markt outside, than another batch seemed to loom out
of the shadows, equally determined to conclude its gossip
here in the warmth, before sallying forth once more
into the foggy midnight air.

" I must close the cathedral for the night," the worthy
man repeated piteously, "do you think that I don't
want to get home and eat my watch-night supper at a
reasonable hour. Move on there, my masters, move
out please! My orders are to have the church closed
before one o'clock."
He came on a group of men who sat together in the
shadow of a heavy pillar close behind the pulpit.
" Now then, mynheers," he said, " 'tis closing time."
But those that were there made no sign to obey.
" All right, Perk," said one of them in a whisper, " we
are not going just yet."
" Aye, but ye. are," retorted the verger gruffly, for he
was cross now and wanting his supper, " what should
I allow ye to stay for ? "
"For the memory of Jan!" was the whispered
response.
The verger's manner changed in an instant, the few
words evidently bore some portentous meaning of which
he held the key-and I doubt not but that the key was
made of silver.
" All right, mynheers," he said softly, "the church
will be clear in a few minutes now."
" Go round, Perk," said he who had first spoken, " and
let us know when all is safe."
The verger touched his forelock and silently departed.
Those that were there in the shadow by the great pillar
remained in silence awaiting his return. The congregation
was really dispersing now, the patter of leather shoes
on the flagstones of the floor became gradually more
faint; then it died out altogether. That portion of the
Groote Kerk where is situate the magnificent carved
pulpit was already quite dark and wholly deserted save
for that group of silent, waiting figures that looked like
shadows within the shadows.
Anon the verger returned. He had only been absent
a few minutes.
" Quite safe now, mynheers," he said, "the last of
them has just gone through the main door. I have
locked all the doors save the west. If you want anything

AT CH -NIIGHT

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

you will find me there. I can leave this one light for
you, the others I must put out."
" Put them out, Perk, by all means," was the ready
response. " We can find our way about in the dark."
The verger left them undisturbed; his shuffling steps
were heard gliding along the flagstones until their murmur
died away in the vastness of the sacred edifice.
The group of men who sat behind the pulpit against
the heavy pillar, now drew their rush chairs closer to one
another.
There were six of them altogether, and the light from
the lamp above illumined their faces, which were stern
looking, dark and of set determination. All six of them
were young; only one amongst them might have been
more than thirty years of age; that a great purpose
brought them here to-night was obvious from their atti-
tude, the low murmur of their voices, that air of
mystery which hung round them, fostered by the dark
cloaks which they held closely wrapped round their
shoulders and the shadows from the pillar which they
sought.
One of them appeared to be the entre of their interest,
a man, lean and pallid-looking, with hollow purple-
rimmed eyes, that spoke of night vigils or mayhap of
unavowed, consuming thoughts. The mouth was hard
and thin, and a febrile excitement caused his lips to
quiver and his hand to shake.
The others hung upon his words.
"Tell us some of your adventures, Stoutenburg !"
said one of them eagerly.
Stoutenburg laughed harshly and mirthlessly.
" They would take years in telling," he said, " mayhap
one day I'll write them down. They would fill many a
volume."
" Enough that you did contrive to escape," said another
man, " and that you are back here amongst us once
more."
" Yes ! in order to avenge wrongs that are as countless
by now as the grains of sand on the sea-shore," rejoined
Stoutenburg earnestly.

WATCH-NIGHT

" You know that you are not safe inside Holland,"
suggested he who had first spoken.
" Aye, my good Beresteyn, I know that well enough,"
said Stoutenburg with a long and bitter sigh. " Your
own father would send me to the gallows if he had the
chance, and you with me mayhap, for consorting with
me."
" My father owes his position, his wealth, the pros-
perity of his enterprise to the Stadtholder," said Beresteyn,
speaking with as much bitterness as his friend. " He
looked upon the last conspiracy against the life of the
Prince of Orange as a crime blacker than the blackest
sin that ever deserved hell . . . If he thought that I
S. . at the present moment . ."
" Yes I know. But he has not the power to make
you false to me, has he, Nicolaes ? " asked Stoutenburg
anxiously. " You are still at one with us ? "
" With you to the death ! " replied Beresteyn fervently,
" so are we all."
" Aye ! that we are," said the four others with one
accord, whilst one of them added dryly:
" And determined not to fail like the last time by
trusting those paid hirelings, who will take your money
and betray you for more."
" Last February we were beset with bunglers and self-
seekers," said Stoutenburg, " my own brother Groeneveld
was half-hearted in everything save the desire to make
money. Slatius was a vindictive boor, van Dyk was a
busybody and Korenwinder a bloated fool. Well! they
have paid their penalty. Heaven have their souls!
But for God's sake let us do the work ourselves this
time."
" They say that the Stadtholder is sick unto death,"
said one of the men sombrely. " Disease strikes with a
surer hand sometimes than doth the poniard of an enemy."
" Bah I I have no time to waste waiting for his death,"
retorted Stoutenburg roughly, " there is an opportunity
closer at band and more swift than the weary watching
for the slew ravages of disease. The Stadtholder comes
to Amsterdam next week; the burghers of his beloved

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

city have begged of him to be present at the consecration
of the Western Kerk, built by Mynheer van Keyser,
as well as at the opening of the East India Company's
new hall. He plays up for popularity just now. The
festivals in connection with the double event at Amster-
dam have tempted him to undertake the long journey from
the frontier, despite his failing health. His visit to this
part of the country is a golden opportunity which I do
not intend to miss."
" You will find it very difficult to get near the Stadt-
holder on such an occasion," remarked Beresteyn. " He
no longer drives about unattended as he used to do."
"ALl the escort in the world will not save him from
my revenge," said Stoutenburg firmly. " Our position
now is stronger than it has ever been. I have adherents
in every city of Holland and of Zealand, aye, and in the
south too as far as Breda and in the east as far as Arnhem.
I tell you, friends, that I have spread a net over this country
out of which Maurice of Orange cannot escape. My
organisation too is better than it was. I have spies
within the camp at Sprang, a knot of determined men
all along the line between Breda and Amsterdam, at
Gonda, at Delft . . . especially at Delft."
" Why specially there ? " asked Beresteyn.
" Because I have it in my mind that mayhap we need
not take the risks of accomplishing our coup in Amster-
dam itself. As you say it might be very difficult and
very dangerous to get at the Stadtholder on a public
occasion . .. But Delft is on the way . .. Maurice of
Orange is certain to halt at Delft, if only in order to
make a pilgrimage to the spot where his father was
murdered. He will, I am sure, sleep more than one
night at the Prinsenhof . . . And from Delft the way
leads northwards past Ryswyk-Ryswyk close to which
I have had my headquarters three weeks past-Ryswyk,
my friends!" he continued, speaking very rapidly,
almost incoherently, in his excitement, "where I have
arms and ammunition, Ryswyk, which is the rallying
point for all my friends . . . the molens ! you remember ?
. . . close to the wooden bridge which spans the Schie

WATCH-NIGHT

. . . I have enough gunpowder stored at that molens
to blow up twenty wooden bridges . .. and the Stadt-
holder with his escort must cross the wooden bridge
which spans the Schie not far from the molens where
I have my headquarters . .. I have it all in my mind
already . . . I only wait to hear news of the actual
day when the Stadtholder leaves his camp ... I can
tell you more to-morrow, but in the meanwhile I want to
know if there are a few men about here on whom I can
rely at a moment's notice . . . whom I can use as spies
or messengers . . . or even to lend me a hand at Ryswyk
in case of need . . . thirty or forty would be sufficient
. . . if they are good fighting men . . . I said some-
thing about this in my message to you all."
"And I for one acted on your suggestion at once,"
said one of the others. " I have recruited ten stout
fellows: Germans and Swiss, who know not a word of
our language. I pay them well and they ask no ques-
tions. They will fight for you, spy for you, run for
you, do anything you choose, and can betray nothing,
since they know nothing. They are at your disposal at
any moment."
" That is good, and I thank you, my dear Heemskerk."
"I have half a dozen peasants on my own estate on
whom I can rely," said another of Stoutenburg's friends.
"They are good fighters, hard-headed and ready to go
through fire and water for me. They are as safe as
foreign mercenaries, for they will do anything I tell them
and will do it without asking the reason why."
" I have another eight or ten foreigners to offer you,"
said a third, ",they come from a part of Britain called
Scotland so I understand. I picked them up a week
ago when they landed at Scheveningen and engaged
them in my service then and there."
" And I can lay my hand at any moment on a dozen
or so young apprentices in my father's factory," added
a fourth, " they are always ready for a frolic or a fight
and ready to follow me to hell if need be."
" You see that you can easily count on three dozen
men," concluded Beresteyn.

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

" Three dozen men ready to hand," said Stoutenburg,
" for our present needs they should indeed suffice. Know-
ing that I can reckon on them I can strike the decisive
blow when and how I think it best. It is the blow that
counts," he continued between set teeth, " after that
everything is easy enough. The waverers hang back
until success is assured. But our secret adherents in
Holland can be counted by the score, in Zealand and
Utrecht by the hundred. When Maurice of Orange has
paid with his own blood the penalty which his crimes
have incurred, when I can proclaim myself over his dead
body Stadtholder of the Northern Provinces, Captain
and Admiral-General of the State, thousands will rally
round us and flock to our banner. Thousands feel as
we do, think as we do, and know what we know, that
John of Barneveld will not rest in his grave till I, his
last surviving son, have avenged him. Who made this
Republic what she is ? My father. Who gave the Stadt-
holder the might which he possesses ? My father. My
father whose name was revered and honoured throughout
the length and breadth of Europe and whom an ingrate's
hand hath branded with the mark of traitor. The
Stadtholder brought my father to the scaffold, heaping
upon him accusations of treachery which he himself
must have known were groundless. When the Stadt-
holder sent John of Barneveld to the scaffold he com-
mitted a crime which can only be atoned for by his own
blood. Last year we failed. The mercenaries whom
we employed betrayed us. My brother, our friends
went the way my father led, victims all of them of the
rapacious ambition, the vengeful spite of the Stadtholder.
But I escaped as by a miracle !-a miracle I say it was,
my friends, a miracle wrought by the God of vengeance,
who hath said: 'I will repay ! ' He hath also said that
whosoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his
blood be shed ! I am the instrument of his vengeance.
Vengeance is mine ! 'tis I who will repay ! "
He had never raised his voice during this long perora-
tion, but his diction had been none the less impressive
because it was spoken under his breath. The others had

listened in silence, awed, no doubt, by the bitter flood
of hate which coursed through every vein of this man's
body and poured in profusion from his lips. The death of
father and brother and of many friends, countless wrongs,
years of misery, loss of caste, of money and of home,
had numbed him against every feeling save that of
revenge.
" This time I'll let no man do the work for me," he
said after a moment's silence, "if you will all stand by
me, I will smite the Stadtholder with mine own hand."
This time he had raised his voice, just enough to wake
the echo that slept in the deserted edifice.
" Hush ! " whispered one of his friends, "Hush ! for
God's sake ! "
" Bah ! the church is empty," retorted Stoutenburg,
" and the verger too far away to hear. I'll say it again,
and proclaim it loudly now in this very church before
the altar of God: I will kill the Stadtholder with mine
own hand ! "
" Silence in the name of God ! "
More than one muffled voice had uttered the warning
and Beresteyn's hand fell heavily on Stoutenburg's arm.
" Hush, I say!" he whispered hoarsely, " there's
something moving there in the darkness."
" A rat mayhap ! " quoth Stoutenburg lightly.
" No, no . . .listen ! . .. some one moves . . . some
one has been there . . . all along... "
" A spy ! " murmured the others under their breath.
In a moment every man there had his hand on his
sword: Stoutenburg and Beresteyn actually drew theirs.
They did not speak to one another for they had caught
one another's swift glance, and the glance had in it the
forecast of a grim resolve.
Whoever it was who thus moved silently out of the
shadows-spy or merely indiscreet listener--would pay
with his life for the knowledge which he had obtained.
These men here could no longer afford to take any risks.
The words spoken by Stoutenburg and registered by
them all could be made the stepping stones to the scaffold
if strange ears had caught their purport.

WVATCH-NIIGHT

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

They meant death to some one, either to the speakers or
to the eavesdropper; and six men were determined
that it should be the eavesdropper who must pay for his
presence here.
They forced their eyes to penetrate the dense gloom
which surrounded them, and one and all held their breath,
like furtive animals that await their prey. They stood
there silent and rigid, a tense look on every face; the
one light fixed in the pillar above them played weirdly
on their starched ruffs scarce whiter than the pallid
hue of their cheeks.
Then suddenly a sound caught their ears, which caused
each man to start and to look at his nearest companion
with set inquiring eyes; it was the sound of a woman's
skirt swishing against the stone-work of the floor. The
seconds went by leaden-footed and full of portentous
meaning. Each heart-beat beneath the vaulted roof of
the cathedral to-night seemed like a knell from eternity.
How slow the darkness was in yielding up its
secret !
At last as the conspirators gazed, they saw the form
of a woman emerging out of the shadows. At first they
could only see her starched kerchief and a glimmer
of jewels beneath her cloak. Then gradually the figure--
ghostlike in this dim light-came more fully into view;
the face of a woman, her lace coif, the gold embroidery
of her stomacher all became detached one by one, but
only for a few seconds, for the woman was walking rapidly;
nor did she look to right or left, but glided along the
floor like a vision-white, silent, swift-which might
have been conjured up by a fevered brain.
" A ghost ! " whispered one of the young men hoarsely.
"No. A woman," said another, and the words came
like a hissing sound through his teeth.
Beresteyn and Stoutenburg said nothing for awhile.
They looked silently on one another, the same burning
anxiety glowing in their eyes, the same glance of mute
despair passing from one to the other.
" Gilda ! " murmured Stoutenburg at last.
The swish of the woman's skirt had died away in the

distance; not one of the men had attempted to follow
her or to intercept her passage.
Jongejuffrouw Beresteyn, no spy of course, just a chance
eavesdropper ! but possessed nevertheless now of a secret
which meant death to them all i
" How much did she hear, think you ? " asked Stouten-
burg at last.
He had replaced his sword in his scabbard with a
gesture that expressed his own sense of fatality. He
could not use his sword against a woman--even had
that woman not been Gilda Beresteyn.
" She cannot have heard much," said one of the others,
" we spoke in whispers."
" If she had heard anything she would have known
that only the west door was to remain open. Yet she
has made straight for the north portal," suggested another.
" If she did not hear the verger speaking she could
not have heard what we said," argued a third somewhat
lamely.
Every one of them had some suggestion to put forward,
some surmise to express, some hope to urge. Only
Beresteyn said nothing. He had stood by, fierce and
silent, ever since he had first recognized his sister; beenath
his lowering brows the resolve had not died out of his
eyes, and he still held his sword unsheathed in his hand.
Stoutenburg now appealed directly to him.
" What do you think of it, Beresteyn ? " he asked.
"I think that my sister did hear something of our
conversation,' he ahfswered quietly.
" Great God ! " ejaculated the others.
" But," added Beresteyn slowly, "I pledge you mine
oath that she will not betray us."
" How will you make sure of that ? " retorted Stouten-
burg, not without a sneer.
" That is mine affair."
" And ours too. We can do nothing, decide on nothing
until we are sure."
" Then I pray you wait for me here," concluded Beres-
teyn. "I will bring you a surety before we part thrb
night."

WVATCH-N IGHT

66 THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
" Let me go and speak to her," urged Stoutenburg.
" No, no, 'tis best that I should go."
Stoutenburg made a movement as if he would detain
him, then seemed to think better of it, and finally let
him go.
Beresteyn did not wait for further comment from his
friends but quickly turned on his heel. The next moment
he was speeding away across the vast edifice and his tall
figure was soon swallowed up by the gloom.

CHAPTER V

BROTHER AND SISTER

THE verger on guard at the west door had quietly dropped
to sleep. He did not wake apparently when Jongejuffrouw
Beresteyn slipped past him and out through the door.
Beresteyn followed close on his sister's heels. He
touched her shoulder just as she stood outside the portal,
wrapping her fur cloak more snugly over her shoulders
and looking round her, anxious where to find her servants.
" 'Tis late for you to be out this night, Gilda," he said,
" and alone."
" I am only alone for the moment," she replied quietly.
"Maria and Jakob and Piet are waiting for me at the
north door. I did not know it would be closed."
" But why are you so late ? "
" I stayed in church after the service."
" But why ? " he insisted more impatiently.
"I could not pray duri ig service," she said. " My
thoughts wandered. I wanted to be alone for a few
moments with God."
" Did you not know then that you were not alone ? "
"No. Not at first."
" But . . . afterwards . . . ? "
" Your voice, Nicolaes, struck on my ear. I did not
want to hear. I wanted to pray."
" Yet you listened ? "
" No. I did not wish to listen."
" But you heard ? "
She gave no actual reply, but he could see her profile
straight and white, the curved lips firmly pressed together,
67

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

the brow slightly puckered, and from the expression of
her face and of her whole attitude, he knew that she
had heard.
He drew in his breath, like one who has received a
blow and has not yet realized how deeply it would hurt.
His right hand which was resting on his hip tore at the
cloth of his doublet, else mayhap it would already have
wandered to the hilt of his sword.
He had expected it of course. Already when he saw
Gilda gliding out of the shadows with that awed, tense
expression on her face, he knew that she must have
heard . . . something at least . . . something that had
horrified her to the soul.
But now of course there was no longer any room
for doubt. She had heard everything and the question
was what that knowledge, lodged in her brain, might
mean to him and to his friends.
Just for a moment the frozen, misty atmosphere took
on a reddish hue, his tongue clove to the roof of his
mouth, a cold sweat broke out upon his forehead.
He looked around him furtively, fearfully, wondering
whence came that hideous, insinuating whisper which was
freezing the marrow in his bones. No doubt that had
she spoken then, had she reproached or adjured, he would
have found it impossible to regain mastery over himself.
But she looked so unimpassioned, so still, so detached,
that self-control came back to him, and for the moment
she was safe.
" Will you tell me what you did hear? " he asked
after awhile, with seeming calm, though he felt as
if his words must choke him, and her answer strike
him dead.
"I heard," she said, speaking very slowly and very
quietly, "that the Lord of Stoutenburg has returned,
and is trying to drag you and others into iniquity to
further his own ambitious schemes."
" You wrong him there, Gilda. The Lord of Stouten-
burg has certain wrongs to avenge which cry aloud to
Heaven."
" We will not argue about that, Nicolaes," she said

BROTHER AND SISTER

coldly. "Murder is hideous, call it what you will. The
brand of Cain doth defame a man and carries its curse
with it. No man can justify so dastardly a crime. 'Tis
sophistry to suggest it."
" Then in sending Barneveld to the scaffold did the
Prince of Orange call that curse upon himself, a curse
which-please the God of vengeance !-will come home
to him now at last."
" 'Tis not for you, Nicolaes, to condemn him, who has
heaped favours, kindness, bounties upon our father and
upon us. 'Tis not for you, the Stadtholder's debtor for
everything you are, for everything that you possess,
'tis not for you to avenge Barneveld's wrongs."
" 'Tis not for you, my sister," he retorted hotly, "to
preach to me your elder brother. I alone am responsible
for mine actions, and have no account to give to any
one."
" You owe an account of your actiors to your father
and to me, Nicolaes, since your dishonour will fall upon
us too."
" Take care, Gilda, take care ! " he exclaimed hoarsely,
" you speak of things which are beyond your ken, but
in speaking them you presume on my forebearance .. .
and on your sex."
" There is no one in sight," she said calmly, " you may
strike me without fear. One crime more or less on your
conscience will soon cease to trouble you."
" Gilda ! " he cried with sudden passionate reproach.
At this involuntary cry-in which the expression of
latent affection for her struggled with that of his rage
and of his burning anxiety-all her own tender feelings
for him, her womanliness, her motherly instincts were re-
awakened in an instant. They had only been dormant
for awhile, because of her horror of what she had heard.
And that horror of a monstrous deed, that sense of shame
that he-her brother-should be so ready to acquiesce
in a crime had momentarily silenced the call of sisterly
love. But this love once re-awaken ed was strong enough
to do battle in her heart on his behalf : the tense rigidity
of her attitude relaxed, her mouth softened, her eyes

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

filled with tears. The next moment she had turned fully
to him and was looking pleadingly into his face.
" Little brother," she murmured gently, " tell me that
it is not true. That it was all a hideous dream."
He looked down on her for a moment. It pleased him
to think that her affection for him was still there, that at
any rate his personal safety might prove a potent argu-
ment against the slightest thought of indiscretion on her
part. She tried to read his thoughts, but everything was
dark around them both, the outline of his brow and mouth
alone stood clearly out from the gloom: the expression
of his eyes she could not fathom. But womanlike she
was ready to believe that he would relent. It is so
difficult for a woman to imagine that one whom she loves
is really prone to evil. She loved this brother dearly,
and did not grasp the fact that he had reached a point in
his life when a woman's pleading had not the power to
turn him from his purpose. She did not know how
deeply he had plunged into the slough of conspiracy, and
that the excitement of it had fired his blood to the exclu-
sion of righteousness and of loyalty. She hoped-in the
simplicity of her heart-that he was only misled, that
evil counsels had only temporarily prevailed. Like a
true woman she still saw the child in this brother who had
grown to manhood by her side.
Therefore she appealed and she pleaded, she murmured
tender words and made fond suggestions, all the while
that his heart was hard to everything except to the one
purpose which she was trying to thwart.
Not unkindly but quite firmly he detached her clinging
arms from round his neck.
" Let us call it a dream, little sister," he said firmly,
" and do you try and forget it."
"That I cannot, Nicolaes," she replied, "unless you
will promise me . . ."
" To betray my friends ? " he sneered.
" I would not ask you to do that: but you can draw
back . .. it is not too late . . . For our father's sake,
and for mine, Nicolaes," she pleaded once more earnestly.
" Oh think, little brother, think ! It cannot be that you

BROTHER AND SISTER

could countenance such a hideous crime, you who were
always so loyal and so brave ! I remember when you
were quite a tiny boy what contempt you had for little
Jakob Steyn because he told lies, and how you thrashed
Frans van Overstein because he ill-treated a. dog ...
Little brother, when our father was ruined, penniless, after
that awful siege of Haarlem, which is still a hideous
memory to him, the Prince of Orange helped him with
friendship and money to re-establish his commerce, he
stood by him loyally, constantly, until more prosperous
days dawned upon our house. Little brother, you have
oft heard our father tell the tale, think . . . oh think of
the blow you would be dealing him if you lent a hand to
conspiracy against the Prince. Little brother, for our
father's sake, for mine, do not let yourself be dragged into
the toils of that treacherous Stoutenburg."
" You call him treacherous now, but you loved him
once."
" It is because I loved him once," she rejoined earnestly,
"' that I call him treacherous now."
He made no comment on this, for he knew in his heart
of hearts that what she said was true. He knew nothing
of course of the events of that night in the early spring
of the year when Gilda had sheltered and comforted the
man who had so basely betrayed her; but for her ministra-
tion to him then, when exhausted and half-starved he
sought shelter under her roof, in her very room-he would
not have lived for this further plotting and this further
infamy, nor yet to drag her brother down with him into
the abyss of his own disgrace.
Of this nocturnal visit Gilda had never spoken to any-
one, not even to Nicolaes who she knew was Stoutenburg's
friend, least of all to her father, whose wrath would have
fallen heavily on her had he known that she had har-
boured a traitor in his house.
" Stoutenburg lied to me, Nicolaes," she now said,
seeing that still her brother remained silent and morose,
" he lied to me when he stole my love, only to cast it
away from him as soon as ambition called him from my
side. And as he lied then, so will he lie to you, little

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

brother, he will steal your allegiance, use you for his own
ends and cast you ruthlessly from him if he find you no
longer useful. Yes, I did love him once," she continued
earnestly, " when he thought of staining his hands with
murder my love finally turned to contempt. This new
infamy which he plots hath filled the measure of my hate.
Turn from him, little brother, I do entreat you with my
whole soul. He has been false to his God, false to his
prince, false to me ! he will be false to you ! "
" It is too late, Gilda," he retorted sombrely, "even
if I were so minded, which please God II am not."
" It is never too late to draw back from such an abyss
of shame."
" Be silent, girl," he said more roughly, angered that he
was making no headway against her obstinacy. " God-
verdomme ! but I am a fool indeed to stand and parley
here with you, when grave affairs wait upon my time.
You talk at random and of things you do not understand:
I had no mind to argue this matter out with you."
" I do not detain you, Nicolaes," she said simply, with
a sigh of bitter disappointment. " If you will but call
Maria and the men who wait at the north door, I can
easily relieve you of my presence."
" Yes, and you can go home to your pots and pans,
to your sewing and your linen-chest, and remember to
hold your tongue, as a woman should do, for if you breathe
of what you have heard, if you betray Stoutenburg who
is my friend, it is me--your only brother--whom you
will be sending to the scaffold."
" I would not betray you, Nicolaes," she said.
" Or any of my friends ? "
" Or any of your friends."
" You swear it ? " he urged.
" There is no need for an oath."
" Yes, there is a pressing need for an oath, Gilda," he
retorted sternly. " My friends expect it of you, and you
must pledge yourself to them, to forget all that you heard
to-night and never to breathe of it to any living soul."
"I cannot swear," she replied, "to forget that which
my memory will retain in spite of my will: nor would I

BROTHER AND SISTER

wish to forget, because I mean to exert all the power I
possess to dissuade you from this abominable crime, and
because I mean to pray to God with all my might that He
may prevent the crime from being committed."
" You may pray as much as you like," he said roughly,
" but I'll not have you breathe a word of it to any living
soul."
" My father has the right to know of the disgrace that
threatens him."
" You would not tell him ? " he exclaimed hoarsely.
"Not unless . . ."
" Unless what ? "
" I cannot say. 'Tis all in God's hands and I do not
know yet what my duty is. As you say I am only a
woman, and my place is with my pots and pans, my
sewing and my spindle. I have no right to have thoughts
of mine own. Perhaps you are right, and in that case
my father must indeed be the one to act. But this I
do swear to you, Nicolaes, that before you stain your hand
with the blood of one who, besides being your sovereign
lord, is your father's benefactor and friend, I will implore
God above, that my father and I may both die ere we
see you and ourselves so disgraced."
Before he could detain her by word or gesture she had
slipped past him and turned to walk quickly toward the
facade of the cathedral. An outstanding piece of masonry
soon hid her from his view. For the moment he had
thoughts of following her. Nicolaes Beresteyn was not
a man who liked being thwarted, least of all by a woman,
and there was a sense of insecurity for him in what she
had said at the last. His life and that of his friends lay
in the hands of that young girl who had spoken some very
hard words to him just now. He loved her as a brother
should, and would not for his very life have seen her in any
danger, but he had all a man's desire for mastery and
hatred of dependence: she had angered and defied him,
and yet remained in a sense his master.
He and his friends were dependent on her whim--he
would not call it loyalty or sense of duty to be done-
it was her whim that would hold the threads of a

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

conspiracy which he firmly believed had the welfare of
Holland and of religion for its object, and it was her
whim that would hold the threat of the scaffold over
himself and Stoutenburg and the others. The situation
was intolerable.
He ground his heel upon the stone and muttered an
oath under his breath. If only Gilda had been a man
how simple would his course of action have been. A man
can be coerced by physical means, but a woman .. .
and that woman his own sister !
It was hard for Nicolaes Beresteyn to have to think
the situation out calmly, dispassionately, to procrastinate,
to let the matter rest at any rate until the next day.
But this he knew that he must do. He felt that he had
exhausted all the arguments, all the reasonings that were
consistent with his own pride; and how could he hope
to coerce her into oaths or promises of submission here
in the open street and with Maria and Jakob and Piet
close by-eavesdropping mayhap ?
Gilda was obstinate and had always been allowed more
latitude in the way of thinking things out for herself
than was good for any woman; but Nicolaes knew that
she would not take any momentous step in a hurry.
She would turn the whole of the circumstances over in
her mind and as she said do some praying too. What
she would do afterwards he dared not even conjecture.
For the moment he was forced to leave her alone, and
primarily he decided to let his friends know at once how
the matter stood.
He found them waiting anxiously for his return. I
doubt if they had spoken much during his absence. A
chorus of laconic inquiry greeted him as soon as his firm
step rang out upon the flagstones.
" Well ? "
" She has heard everything," he said quietly, " but
she will not betray us. To this I pledge ye my word."

CHAPTER VI

THE COUNSELS OF PRUDENCE

NEITHER Stoutenburg nor any of the others had made
reply to Beresteyn's firmly spoken oath. They were
hard-headed Dutchmen, every one of them: men of
action rather than men of words : for good or ill the rest
of the world can judge them for ever after by their deeds
alone.
Therefore when the spectre of betrayal and of sub-
sequent death appeared so suddenly before them they
neither murmured nor protested. They could not in
reason blame Beresteyn for his sister's presence in the
cathedral this night, nor yet that her thoughts and
feelings in the matter of the enmity between the Stadt-
holder and the Barneveld family did not coincide with
their own.
Silently they walked across the vast and lonely cathedral
and filed one by one out of the western door where Perk
still held faithful watch. Stoutenburg, their leader, had
his lodgings in a small house situate at the top of the
Kleine Hout Straat, close to the well-known hostelry at
the sign of the " Lame Cow." This latter was an hostelry
of unimpeachable repute and thither did the six friends
decide to go ere finally going home for the night.
It had been decided between them some time ago that
those who were able to do so would show themselves in
public as much as possible during the next few days, so
as to ward off any suspicion of intrigue which their
frequent consorting in secluded places might otherwise
have aroused.
75

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

Out in the open they thought it best to disperse, elect-
ing to walk away two and two rather than in a compact
group which might call forth the close attention of the
night watchmen.
Stoutenburg linked his arm in that of Beresteyn.
" Let the others go on ahead," he said confidentially,
" you and I, friend, must understand one another ere we
part for this night."
Then as Beresteyn made no immediate reply, he con-
tinued calmly:
" This will mean hanging for the lot of us this time,
Nicolaes ! "
" I pray to God . . . " exclaimed the other hoarsely.
" God will have nought to say in the matter, my
friend," retorted Stoutenburg dryly, " 'tis only the
Stadtholder who will have his say, and do you think that
he is like to pardon . ."
" Gilda will never .. ."
" Oh yes she will," broke in Stoutenburg firmly; " be
not deluded into thoughts of security. Gilda will think
the whole of this matter over for four and twenty hours
at the longest, after which, feeling herself in an impasse
between her affection for you and her horror of me, she
will think it her duty to tell your father all that she heard
in the cathedral to-night."
" Even then," said Beresteyn, hotly, " my father would
not send his only son to the gallows."
" Do you care to take that risk ? " was the other man's
calm retort.
" What can I do ? "
" You must act decisively and at once, my friend,"
said Stoutenburg dryly, " an you do not desire to see your
friends marched off to torture and the scaffold with
yourself following in their wake."
" But how ? how ? " exclaimed Beresteyn.
His was by far the weaker nature of the two: easily
led, easily swayed by a will stronger than his own.
Stoutenburg wielded vast influence over him; he had
drawn him into the net of his own ambitious schemes,
and had by promises and cajolery won his entire allegiance.

THE COUNSELS OF PRUDENCE

Now that destruction and death threatened Nicolaes
through his own sister-whom he sincerely loved-he
turned instinctively to Stoutenburg for help and for
advice.
" It is quite simple," said the latter slowly. " Gilda
must be temporarily made powerless to do us" any
harm."
" How ? " reiterated Beresteyn helplessly.
" Surely you can think of some means yourself,"
retorted Stoutenburg somewhat impatiently. " Self-
preservation is an efficient sharpener of wits as a rule,
and your own life is in the hands of a woman now, my
friend."
" You seem to forget that that woman is my sister.
How can I conspire to do her bodily harm ? "
" Who spake of bodily harm, you simpleton ? " quoth
Stoutenburg with a harsh laugh, " 'tis you who seem to
forget that if Gilda is your sister she is also the woman
whom I love more than my life . . . more than my
ambition . . . more even than my revenge . . . ."
He paused a moment, for despite his usual self-control
his passion at this moment threatened to master him.
His voice rose harsh and quivering, and was like to attract
the notice of passers-by. After a moment or two he
conquered his emotion and said more calmly:
" Friend, we must think of our country and of our
faith ; we must think of the success of our schemes : and,
though Gilda be dear to us both-infinitely dear to me-
she must not be allowed to interfere with the great object
which we hope to attain. Think out a way therefore of
placing her in such a position that she cannot harm
us: have her conveyed to some place where she can be
kept a prisoner for a few days until I have accomplished
what I have set out to do."
Then as Beresteyn said nothing, seeming to be absorbed
in some new train of thought, Stoutenburg continued
more persuasively:
" I would I could carry her away myself and hold her-
a beloved prisoner-while others did my work for me.
But that I cannot do: for 'twere playing the part of a

78 THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
coward and I have sworn before the altar of God that I
would kill the Stadtholder with mine own hand. Nor
would I have the courage so to offend her: for let me
tell you this, Nicolaes, that soaring even above my most
ambitious dreams, is the hope that when these have
been realized, I may ask Gilda to share my triumph with
me."
"Nor would I have the courage so to offend my sister
. . my father," said Beresteyn. " You speak of carry-
ing her off, and holding her a prisoner for eight days
perhaps or even a fortnight. How can I, her own brother,
do that? 'Tis an outrage she would never forgive:
my father would curse me . . . disinherit me . . . turn
me out of house and home .. ."
"And will he not curse you now, when he knows--
when to-morrow mayhap, Gilda will have told him that
you, his son, have joined hands with the Lord of Stouten-
burg in a conspiracy to murder the Prince of Orange-will
he not disinherit you then ? turn you out of house and
home ? "
"Hold on for mercy's sake," exclaimed Beresteyn,
who bewildered by the terrible alternative thus put
ruthlessly before him, felt that he must collect his thoughts,
and must-for the moment at any rate--put away from
him the tempter who insinuated thoughts of cowardice
into his brain.
" I'll say no more then," said Stoutenburg quietly,
"think it all over, Nicolaes. My life, your own, those of
all our friends are entirely in your hands: the welfare
of the State, the triumph of our faith depend on the
means which you will devise for silencing Gilda for a
few brief days."
After which there was silence between the two men.
Beresteyn walked more rapidly along, his fur-lined cloak
wrapped closely round him, his arms folded tightly across
his chest and his hands clenched underneath his cloak.
Stoutenburg on the other hand was also willing to let
the matter drop and to allow the subtle poison which he
had instilled into his friend's mind to ferment and bring
forth such thoughts as would suit his own plans.

THE COUNSELS OF PRUDENCE 79
He knew how to gauge exactly the somewhat vacillat-
ing character of Nicolaes Beresteyn, and had carefully
touched every string of that highly nervous organization
till he left it quivering with horror at the present and
deathly fear for the future.
Gilda was a terrible danger, of that there could be no
doubt. Nicolaes had realized this to the full: the
instinct of self-preservation was strong in him : he would
think over Stoutenburg's bold suggestion and would
find a way how to act on it. And at the bottom of his
tortuous heart Stoutenburg already cherished the hope
that this new complication which had dragged Gilda
into the net of his own intrigues would also ultimately
throw her--a willing victim-into his loving arms.

CHAPTER VII

THREE PHILOSOPHERS AND THEIR FRIENDS

WHEREUPON Chance forged yet another link in the chain
of a man's destiny.
I pray you follow me now to the tapperij of the " Lame
Cow." I had not asked you to accompany me thither
were it not for the fact that the " Lame Cow " situate in
the Kleine Hout Straat not far from the cathedral, was
a well-ordered and highly respectable tavern, where indeed
the sober merrymakers of Haarlem as well as the gay
and gilded youth of the city were wont to seek both
pleasure and solace.
You all know the house with its flat fagade of red
brick, its small windows and tall, very tall gabled roof
that ends in a point high up above the front door. The
tapperij is on your left as you enter. It is wainscotted
with oak which was already black with age in the year
1623; above the wainscot the walls are white-washed,
ad Mynheer Beek, the host of the " Lame Cow," who
s a pious man, has hung the walls round with scriptural
texts, appropriate to his establishment, such as: " Eat,
drink and be merry ! " and " Drink thy wine with a merry
heart ! "
From which I hope that I have convinced you that the
" Lame Cow" was an eminently orderly place of con-
viviality, where worthy burghers of Haarlem could drink
ale and hot posset in the company of mevrouws their
wives.
And it was to this highly praised and greatly respected
establishment that three tired-out and very thirsty
8o

THREE PHILOSOPHERS AND THEIR FRIENDS 81
philosophers repaired this New Year's night, instead of
attending the watch-night service at one of the churches.
Diogenes, feeling that three guilders still reposed safely
in his wallet, declared his intention of continuing his
career as a gentleman, and a gentleman of course could
not resort to one of those low-class taverns which were
usually good enough for foreign adventurers.
And thus did Fate have her will with him and brought
him here this night.
Moreover the tap-room of the "Lame Cow" wore a
very gay appearance always on New Year's night. It
was noted for its clientele on that occasion, for the good
Rhenish wine which it dispensed, and for the gay sight
engendered by the Sunday gowns of the burghers and their
ladies who came here after service for a glass of wine
and multifarious relish.
As the night was fine, despite the hard frost, Mynheer
Beek expected to be unusually busy. Already he had
arranged on the polished tables the rows of pewter
platters heaped up with delicacies which he knew would
be in great request when the guests would begin to arrive :
smoked sausage garnished with horseradish, roasted liver
and slabs of cheese.
The serving wenches with the sleeves of their linen
shifts tucked well up above their round red arms, their
stolid faces streaming with perspiration, were busy
polishing tables that already were over-polished and
making pewter mugs to shine that already shone with a
dazzling radiance.
For the nonce the place was still empty and the philo-
sophers when they entered were able to select the table
at which they wished to sit-one near the hearth in which
blazed gigantic logs, and at which they could stretch out
their limbs with comfort.
At Diogenes' suggestion they all made hasty repairs
to their disordered toilet, and readjusted the set of their
collars and cuffs with the help of the small mirror that
hung close by against the wall.
Three strange forms of a truth that were thus mirrored
in turns.

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

Socrates with a hole in his head, now freshly bandaged
with a bit of clean linen by the sympathetic hand of a
serving maid : his hooked nose neatly washed till it shone
like the pewter handle of a knife, his pointed cranium but
sparsely furnished with lanky black hair peeping out
above the bandage like a yellow wurzel in wrappings of
paper. His arms and legs were unusually long and
unusually thin, and he had long lean hands and long
narrow feet, but his body was short and slightly bent for-
ward as if under the weight of his head, which also was
narrow and long. His neck was like that of a stork that
has been half-plucked, it rose from out the centre of his
ruffled collar with a curious undulating movement,
which suggested that he could turn it right round and look
at the middle of his own back. He wore a brown doublet
of duffle and brown trunks and hose, and boots that
appeared to be too big even for his huge feet.
Beside him Pythagoras looked like the full stop in a
semicolon, for he was but little over five feet in height and
very fat. His doublet of thick green cloth had long ago
burst its buttons across his protuberent chest. His face,
which was round as a full moon, was highly coloured even
to the tip of his small upturned nose, and his forehead,
crowned by a thick mass of red-brown hair which fell in
heavy and lanky waves down to his eyebrows, was always
wet and shiny. He had a habit of standing with legs
wide apart, his abdomen thrust forward and his small
podgy hands resting upon it. His eyes were very small
and blinked incessantly. Below his double chin he wore
a huge bow of starched white linen, which at this moment
was sadly crumpled and stained, and his collar which also
had seen more prosperous days was held together by a
piece of string.
Like his friend Socrates his trunk and hose were of
worsted, and he wore high leather boots which reached
well above the knee and looked to have been intended
for a much taller person. The hat, with the tall sugar-loaf
crown, which he had picked up after the fray in the Dam
Straat, was much too small for his big round head. He
tried, before the mirror, to adjust it at a becoming angle.

THREE PHILOSOPHERS AND THEIR FRIENDS 83
In strange contrast to these two worthies was their
friend whom they called Diogenes. He himself, had you
questioned him ever so closely, could not have told you
from what ancestry or what unknown parent had come
to him that air of swagger and of assurance which his
avowed penury had never the power to subdue. Tall
above the average, powerfully built and solidly planted
on firm limbs he looked what he easily might have been,
a gentleman to the last inch of him. The brow was fine
and broad, the nose sensitive and well shaped, the mouth
a perfect expression of gentle irony. The soft brown
hair, abundant and unruly, lent perhaps a certain air of
untamed wildness to the face, whilst the upturned mous-
tache and the tiny tuft below the upper lip accentuated
the look of devil-may-care independence which was the
chief characteristic of the mouth.
But the eyes were the most remarkable feature of all.
They shone with an unconquerable merriment, they
twinkled and sparkled, and smiled and mocked, they
winked and they beckoned. They were eyes to which
you were obliged to smile in response, eyes that made you
laugh if you felt ever so sad, eyes that jested even before
the mouth had spoken, and the mouth itself was per-
manently curved into a smile.
Unlike his two companions, Diogenes was dressed not
only with scrupulous care but with a show of elegance.
His doublet though well-worn was fashioned of fine
black cloth, the slashed sleeves still showed the remnants
of gold embroidery, whilst the lace of his pleated collar
was of beautiful design.

Having completed their toilet the three friends sat at
their table and sipped their ale and wine in comparative
silence for a time. Socrates, weary with his wound, soon
fell asleep with his arms stretched out before him and
his head resting in the bend of his elbow.
Pythagoras too nodded in his chair; but Diogenes
remained wide awake, and no doubt Mynheer Beek's wine
gave him pleasing thoughts, for the merry look never fled
from his eyes.

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

Half an hour later you would scarce have recognised
the tapperij from its previous orderly silence, for at about
one o'clock it began to fill very fast. Mynheer Beek's
guests were arriving.
It was still bitterly cold and they all came into the warm
room clapping their hands together and stamping the
frozen snow off their feet, loudly demanding hot ale or
mulled wine, to be supplemented later on by more sub-
stantial fare.
The two serving wenches were more busy, hotter and
more profusely streaming with moisture than they had
ever b*en before. It was " Kiithi here ! " and " Luise,
why don't you hurry ? " all over the tapperij now; and
every moment the noise became louder and more cheery.
Every corner of the low, raftered room was filled to
overflowing with chairs and tables. People sat every-
where where a perch was to be found-on the corners of
the tables and on the window sill and many sat on the
floor who could not find room elsewhere. The women sat
on the men's knees, and many of them had children in
their arms as well. For indeed, on watch-night, room
had to be found for every one who wanted to come in ;
no one who wanted to drink and to make merry must be
left to wander out in the cold.
A veritable babel of tongues made the whitewashed
walls echo from end to end, for Haarlem now was a
mightily prosperous city, and there were a great many
foreign traders inside her walls, and some of these had
thought to make merry this night in the famed tap-room
of the " Lame Cow." French merchants with their silks,
English ones with fine cloths and paper, then there were
the Jew dealers from Frankfurt and Amsterdam, and the
Walloon cattle drovers from Flanders.
Here and there the splendid uniform of a member of
one of the shooting guilds struck a note of splendour
among the drabs and russets of worsted doublets and the
brilliant crimson or purple sashes gleamed in the feeble
light of the tallow candles which spluttered and flickered
in their sconces.
Then amongst them all were the foreign mercenaries,

THREE PHILOSOPHERS AND THEIR FRIENDS 85
from Italy or Brabant or Germany, or from God knows
where, loud of speech, aggressive in appearance, carrying
swords and wearing spurs, filling the place with their
swagger and their ribaldry.
They had come to the Netherlands at the expiration of
the truce with Spain, offering to sell their sword and their
skin to the highest bidder. They seemed all to be friends
and boon companions together, called each other queer, fan-
tastic names and shouted their rough jests to one another
across the width of the room. Homeless, shiftless, thrift-
less, they knew no other names save those which chance
or the coarse buffoonery of their friends had endowed them
with. There was a man here to-night who was called
Wryface and another who went by the name of Gutter-
rat. Not one amongst them mayhap could have told
you who his father was or who his mother, nor where he
himself had first seen the light of day; but they all knew
of one another's career, of one another's prowess in the
field at Prague or Ghent or Magdeburg, and they formed
a band of brothers--offensive and defensive-which was
the despair of the town guard whenever the law had to
be enforced against any one of them.
It was at the hour when Mynheer Beek was beginning
to hope that his guests would soon bethink themselves of
returning home and leaving him to his own supper and
bed, that a party of these worthies made noisy interrup-
tion into the room. They brought with them an atmos-
phere of boisterous gaiety with their clanking spurs and
swords, their loud verbiage and burly personality.
" Hech da ! " yelled one of these in a stentorian voice,
" whom have we there, snug and cosy in the warmest
corner of this hole but our three well-beloved philosophers.
Diogenes, old compeer," he shouted still louder than be-
fore, " is there room in your tub for your friends ? "
" Plenty round this table O noble Gutter-rat," shouted
Diogenes in joyful response, " but let me give you warn-
ing that space as well as common funds are running short,
and that every newcomer who wants to sit must stand the
others a draught of ale apiece ; that is the price of a corner
of this bench on which ye may sit if ye have a mind."

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

"Done with you," agreed all the newcomers lustily,
and with scant ceremony they pushed their way through
the closely packed throng.
They took no notice of the mutterings of more sober
customers, angered at seeing their mantles crushed or
feeling their toes trodden on. It suddenly seemed as if
the whole place belonged to these men and that the peace-
ful burghers of the city were only here on suffrance.
The three philosophers had already called for some old
Rhenish wine on draught. Kithi and Luise brought
pewter jugs and more goblets along. Soon Gutter-rat
and his friends were installed at the table, squeezed
against one another on the narrow wooden benches.
Pythagoras had already rolled off his corner seat and was
sitting on the floor; Diogenes was perched on the corner
of the table.
Socrates roused by the noise, opened a pair of heavy
eyes and blinked round him in astonishment. Gutter-
rat deposited his bulky form close beside him and brought
his large and grimy hand down on the shoulder of the
sleepy philosopher.
" Hello, wise Socrates," he cried in his rough, husky
voice, " I hope you have been having pleasant dreams."
" No, I have not," growled Socrates laconically.
" Take no heed of him," laughed Diogenes, " he has a
hole in his head through which his good temper has been
oozing out bit by bit. And yet if you'll all believe me he has
been reposing there so peacefully and snoring so lustily
that I thought he must be dreaming of Heaven and the
last trumpet call."
"I was dreaming of all the chances which Pythagoras
and I have missed to-night owing to your d -d non-
sense," said Socrates, who was more sulky now than he
had been before he went to sleep.
Pythagoras uttered a prolonged sigh and gazed medita-
tively down into the depths of his mug of ale. Gutter-rat
and the others looked inquiringly from one philosopher
to the other.
"Diogenes been at his tricks again ? " asked Gutter-
rat.

THREE PHILOSOPHERS AND THEIR FRIENDS 87
Socrates and Pythagoras nodded in their gloomy res-
ponse.
" Gallantry, eh ? some beauteous damsel, to succour
whom we throw our life, our best chances away ? " con-
tinued the other with ironical sympathy, the while
Diogenes' entire face was wreathed in one huge, all-
embracing smile. Gutter-rat admonished him with
solemn voice and uplifted finger.
" Conduct unworthy a philosopher," he said.
" If he had only injured himself," growled Socrates.
" And let us enjoy the gifts which a beneficent goddess
was ready to pour into our lap," added Pythagoras
dulcetly from the floor.
" Let's hear the story," concluded Gutter-rat.
The others clapped their mugs against the table-top
and shouted: "The story ! the story ! " to the accom-
paniment of din that drowned all other noises in the
room.
Pythagoras from his lowly position began his narrative
in a faint, injured tone of voice. He related the in-
cidents of this night from the moment when the chance of
possessing oneself with but little trouble of a tulip bulb
worth fifteen thousand florins was so airily flouted, down
to the awful moment when a young and beauteous lady
made offers of influence and of money which were equally
airily refused.
Gutter-rat and the others listened attentively. They
specially relished the exciting incidents connected with
the affray in Dam Straat, the breaking of Jan Tiele's
nose and the dispersal of the mob with the aid of a lighted
torch.
"Bravo! splendid! " they shouted at intervals and
loudly expressed their regret at having missed such furious
fun.
Socrates threw in a word or two now and then, when
Pythagoras did not fully explain his own valorous position
in the fight, but Diogenes said nothing at all; he allowed
his comrade to tell the tale his own way; the recollection
of it seemed to afford him vast amusement for he hummed
a lively tune to himself all the while.

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

Pythagoras now was mimicking his friend, throwing
into this performance all the disgust which he felt.
" Raise thy hand to my lips, mejuffrouw," he said min-
cing his words, " momentarily I have not the use of mine
own."
His round, beady eyes appealed to his listeners for
sympathy, and there is no doubt that he got that in
plenty. Gutter-rat more especially highly disapproved
of the d6nouement of what might have proved a lucrative
adventure.
" The rich jongejuffrouw might even have fallen in
love with you," he said sternly to Diogenes, " and en-
dowed you with her father's wealth and influence."
"That's just my complaint," said Pythagoras, " but
no ! what else do you think he said earlier in the evening ? "
" Well ? "
"To-night we'll behave like gentlemen," quoted the
other with ever-growing disgust, " and not like common
thieves."
" Why to-night ? " queried Gutter-rat in amazement.
" Why more especially to-night ? "
Pythagoras and Socrates both shrugged their shoulders
and suggested no explanation. After which there was
more vigorous clapping of mugs against the table-top
and Diogenes was loudly summoned to explain.
" Why to-night ? why to-night ? " was shouted at him
from every side.
Diogenes' face became for one brief moment quite
grave--quite grave be it said, but for his eyes which,
believe me, could not have looked grave had they tried.
" Because," he said at last when the shouts around him
had somewhat subsided, "I had three guilders in my
wallet, because my night's lodging is assured for the next
three nights and because my chief creditor has died like
a hero. Therefore, O comrades all! I could afford the
luxury."
" What luxury ? " sneered Gutter-rat in disgust, " to
refuse the patronage of an influential burgher of this city,
backed by the enthusiasm of the beauteous damsel, his
daughter ? "

THREE PHILOSOPHERS AND THEIR FRIENDS 89
"To refuse all patronage, good comrade," assented
Diogenes with emphasis.
" Bah ! for twenty-four hours . .
" Yes ! for twenty-four hours, friend Gutter-rat, while
those three florins last and I have a roof over my head
for which I have already paid . . . I can for those four
and twenty hours afford the luxury of doing exactly and
only what it pleases me to do."
He threw up his head and stretched out his massive
limbs with a gesture of infinite satisfaction, his merry
mocking glance sweeping over the company of watch-
night revellers, out-at-elbows ragamuffins, and sober
burghers with their respectable vrouws, all of whom were
gaping on him open-mouthed.
" For four and twenty hours, my dear Gutter-rat," he
continued after a long sigh of contentment, " that is
during this day which has just dawned and the night
which must inevitably follow it, I am going to give myself
the luxury of speaking only when I choose and of being
dumb if the fancy so takes me . . . while my three florins
last and I know that I need not sleep under the stars, I
shall owe my fealty only to my whim-I shall dream when
and what I like, sing what I like, walk in company or
alone. For four and twenty hours I need not be the ivy
that clings nor the hose that is ragged at the knee. I
shall be at liberty to wear my sash awry, my shoes un-
buckled, my hat tilted at an angle which pleases me best.
Above all, O worthy rat of the gutter, I need not stoop
for four and twenty hours one inch lower than I choose,
or render aught to Caesar for Caesar will have rendered
naught to me. On this the first day of the New Year
there is no man or woman living who can dictate to me
what I shall do, and to-night in the lodgings for which I
have paid, when I am asleep I can dream that I am
climbing up the heights toward a mountain top which
mayhap doth not quite stretch as far as the clouds, but
which I can reach alone. To-day and to-night I am a man
and not a bit of ribbon that flutters at the breath of man
or woman who has paid for the fluttering with patronage."
Gradually as he spoke and his fresh young voice,

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

90o

sonorous with enthusiasm, rang clearly from end to end
of the raftered room, conversation, laughter, bibulous
songs were stilled and every one turned to look at the
speaker, wondering who he could be. The good burghers
of Haarlem had no liking for the foreign mercenaries for
whom they professed vast contempt because of their
calling, and because of the excesses which they com-
mitted at the storming of these very walls, which event
was within the memory of most. Therefore, though they
were attracted by the speaker, they were disgusted to
find that he belonged to that rabble; but the women
thought that he was goodly to look upon, with those
merry, twinkling eyes of his, and that atmosphere of
light-heartedness and of gaiety which he diffused around
him. Some of the men who were there and who professed
knowledge in such matters, declared that this man's speech
betrayed him for an Englishman.
"I like not the race," said a pompous man who sat
with wife and kindred round a table loaded with good
things. " I remember the English Leicester and his
crowd, men of loose morals and doubtful piety; brag-
garts and roisterers we all thought them. This man is
very like some of them in appearance."
"Thou speakest truly, O wise citizen of this worthy
republic," said Diogenes, boldly answering the man's
low-spoken words, " my father was one of the roisterers
who came in English Leicester's train. An Englishman
he, of loose morals and doubtful piety no doubt, but your
sound Dutch example and my mother's Dutch blood-
Heaven rest her soul-have both sobered me since then."
He looked round at the crowd of faces, all of which were
now turned toward him, kindly faces and angry ones,
contemptuous eyes and good-natured ones, and some that
expressed both compassion and reproof.
" By the Lord," he said, and as he spoke he threw back
his head and burst into a loud and prolonged fit of laughter,
" but I have never in my life seen so many ugly faces
before."
There was a murmur and many angry words among
the assembly. One or two of the men half rose from

THREE PHILOSOPHERS AND THEIR FRIENDS 91
their seats, scowling viciously and clenching their fists.
Master Beek perspiring with anxiety saw these signs of a
possible fray. The thought drove him well-nigh frantic.
An affray in his establishment on New Year's morning !
it was unthinkable ! He rushed round to his customers
with a veritable dictionary of soothing words upon his
tongue.
"Gentlemen ! gentlemen," he entreated, "I beg of you
to calm yourselves . . . I humbly beseech you to pay no
heed to these men . . ."
" Plepshurk ! Insolent rabble ! " quoth a corpulent
gentleman who was crimson with wrath.
" Yes, mynheer, yes, yes," stammered Beek meekly,
"but they are foreigners . . . they . . . they do not
understand our Dutch ways ... but they mean no
harm ... they.. ."
Some of the younger men were not easily pacified.
" Throw them out, Beek," said one of them curtly.
"They make the place insufferable with their bragging
and their insolence," muttered another.
Diogenes and his friends could not help but see these
signs of latent storm, and Mynheer Beek's feeble efforts
at pacifying his wrathful guests. Diogenes had laughed
long and loudly, now he had to stop in order to wipe his
eyes which were streaming; then quite casually he drew
Bucephalus from its scabbard and thoughtfully examined
its blade.
Almost simultaneously the fraternity of merry-makers
at his table also showed a sudden desire to examine the
blade of their swords and immediately half a dozen glints
of steel caught the reflection of tallow candles.
I would not assert that order was restored because of
these unconscious gestures on the part of the insolent
rabble aforesaid, but certain it is that within the next few
seconds decorum once more prevailed as if magic had
called it forth.
Mynheer Beek heaved a sigh of relief.
"All that you said just now was well spoken, sir,"
broke in a firm voice which proceeded from a group of
gentlemen who sat at a table next to the one occupied by

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

the philosophers and their friends, " but 'twere interesting
to hear what you propose doing on the second day of this
New Year."
Diogenes was in no hurry to reply. The man who had
just spoken sat directly behind him, and Bucephalus-so
it seemed-still required his close attention. When he
had once more replaced his faithful friend into its deli-
cately wrought scabbard he turned leisurely round and
from the elevated position which he still occupied on the
corner of the table he faced his interlocutor.
"What I propose doing ? " he quoth politely.
"Why yes. You said just now that for four and
twenty hours you were free to dream and to act as you
will, but how will it be to-morrow ? "
" To-morrow, sir," rejoined Diogenes lightly, "I shall
be as poor in pocket as the burghers of Haarlem are in
wits, and then . . ."
" Yes ? and then ? "
"Why then, sir, I shall once more become an integral
portion of that rabble to which you and your friends
think no doubt that I rightly belong. I shall not have
one silver coin in my wallet and in order to obtain a
handful I shall be ready to sell my soul to the devil, my
skin to the Stadtholder . ."
"And your honour, sir ? " queried the other with a
sneer, " to whom will you sell that precious guerdon
to-morrow ? "
"To you, sir," retorted Diogenes promptly, "an you
are short of the commodity."
An angry word rose to the other man's lips, but his eyes
encountered those of his antagonist and something in the
latter's look, something in the mocking eyes, the merry
face, seemed to disarm him and to quench his wrath. He
even laughed good-humouredly and said:
" Well spoken, sir. You had me fairly there with the
point of your tongue. No doubt you are equally skilful
with the point of your rapier . ."
" It shall be at your service after to-morrow, sir," re-
joined Diogenes lightly.
" You live by the profession of arms, sir ? No offence,

THREE PHILOSOPHERS AND THEIR FRIENDS 93
'tis a noble calling, though none too lucrative I under-
stand."
" My wits supply, sir, what my sword cannot always
command."
" You are ambitious ? "
" I told my friends just now wherein lay my ambition."
" Money-an independent competence . . . so I under-
stand. But surely at your age, and-if you will pardon
mine outspokenness-with your looks, sir, women or
mayhap one woman must play some part in your dreams
of the future."
" Women, sir," retorted Diogenes dryly, " should never
play a leading r61e in the comedy of a philosopher's life.
As a means to an end-perhaps . . . the final denoue-
ment . .."
" Always that one aim I see--a desire for complete in-
dependence which the possession of wealth alone can give."
" Always," replied the other curtly.
" And beyond that desire, what is your chief ambition,
sir ? "
"To be left alone when I have no mind to talk," said
Diogenes with a smile which was so pleasant, so merry,
so full of self-deprecating irony that it tempered the
incivility of his reply.
Again the other bit his lip, checking an angry word;
for some unexplained reason he appeared determined not
to quarrel with this insolent young knave. The others
stared at their friend in utter astonishment.
" What fly hath bitten Beresteyn's ear ? " whispered
one of them under his breath. " I have never known him
so civil to a stranger or so unwilling to take offence."
Certainly the other man's good humour did not seem
to have abated one jot; after an imperceptible moment's
pause, he rejoined with perfect suavity:
" You do not belie your name, sir; I heard your friends
calling you Diogenes, and I feel proud that you should
look on me as Alexander and call on me to stand out of
your sunshine."
"I crave your pardon, sir," said Diogenes somewhat
more seriously, "my incivility is unwarrantable in the

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

face of your courtesy. No doubt it had its origin in the
fact that like my namesake I happened to want nothing
at the moment. To-morrow, sir, an you are minded to pay
for my services, to ask for my sword, my soul or my wits, and
in exchange will offer me the chance of winning a fortune,
or of marrying a wife who is both rich and comely, why,
sir, I shall be your man, and will e'en endeavour to satisfy
you with the politeness of my speech and the promptness
and efficiency of my deeds. To-morrow, sir, you and the
devil will have an equal chance of purchasing my soul for
a few thousand guilders, my wits for a paltry hundred,
my skin for a good supper and a downy bed-to-morrow
the desire will seize me once again to possess wealth at
any cost, and my friends here will have no cause to com-
plain of my playing a part which becomes a penniless
wastrel like myself so ill-the part of a gentleman. Until
then, sir, I bid you good-night. The hour is late and
Mynheer Beek is desirous of closing this abode of pleasure.
As for me, my lodgings being paid for I do not care to
leave them unoccupied."
Whereupon he rose and to Mynheer Beek-who came
to him with that same ubiquitous smile which did duty
for all the customers of the " Lame Cow "-he threw
the three silver guilders which the latter demanded in
payment for the wine and ale supplied to the honourable
gentleman: then as he met the mocking glance of his
former interlocutor he said with a recrudescence of
gaiety:
"I still have my lodgings, gentle sir, and need not
sell my soul or my skin until after I have felt a gnawing
desire for breakfast."
With a graceful flourish of his plumed hat he bowed to
the assembled company and walked out of the tap-room
of the." Lame Cow" with swagger that would have
befitted the audience chamber of a king.
In his wake followed the band of his boon companions,
they too strode out of the place with much jingle of steel
and loud clatter of heavy boots and accoutrements.
They laughed and talked loudly as they left and gesticu-
lated with an air of independence which once more drew

THREE PHILOSOPHERS AND THEIR FRIENDS 95
upon them the wrathful looks and contemptuous shrugs
of the sober townsfolk.
Diogenes alone as he finally turned once again in the
doorway encountered many a timid glance levelled at him
that were soft and kindly. These glances came from
the women, from the young and from the old, for women
are strange creatures of whims and of fancies, and there
was something in the swaggering insolence of that young
malapert that made them think of breezy days upon the
seashore, of the song of the soaring lark, of hyacinths in
bloom and the young larches on the edge of the wood.
And I imagine that their sluggish Dutch blood yielded
to these influences and was gently stirred by memories of
youth.

CHAPTER VIII

THE LODGINGS WHICH WERE PAID FOR

AND once again Chance set to with a will and forged yet
another link in that mighty chain which she had in hand.
For was it not in the natural course of things that the
three philosophers, weary and thirsty as they were, should
go and seek solace and material comfort under the pleasing
roof of the " Lame Cow "-which as I remarked before was
reputed one of the best conducted hostelries in Haarlem,
and possessing a cellar full of wines and ales which had
not its equal even in Amsterdam.
And was it not equally natural since the Lord of Stouten-
burg lodged not far from that self-same hostelry-again
I repeat one of the soberest in Haarlem-that his
friends should choose to join him in the tap-room there
ere parting from one another on this eventful night.
Stoutenburg and his family were but little known in
these parts and the hue and cry after the escaped traitor
had somewhat abated these few months past: moreover
he was well disguised with beard and cloak and he kept
a broad-brimmed hat pulled well down over his brow.
On watch-night too, the burghers and their vrouws as
well as the civic and military dignitaries of the town had
plenty to do to think on their own enjoyment and the
entertainment of their friends: they certes were not on
the look-out for conspiracies and dangerous enemies
within their gates.
Stoutenburg had sat well screened from general obser-
vation within a dark recess of the monumental fireplace.
Nicolaes Beresteyn, the most intimate of all his frienas,
96

THE LODGINGS WHICH WERE PAID FOR 97
sat close to him, but neither of them spoke much. Beres-
teyn was exceptionally moody; he appeared absorbed
in thought and hardly gave answer to those who attempted
to draw him into conversation. Stoutenburg on the other
hand affected a kind of grim humour, and made repeated
allusions to scaffold or gallows as if he had already wholly
resigned himself to an inevitable fate.
The others sipped their mulled wine and tried to cheat
themselves out of the burning anxiety which Jongejuffrouw
Beresteyn's presence in the cathedral had awakened in
their hearts. They had made great efforts not to seem
pre-occupied and to be outwardly at least as gay as any
of the other watch-night revellers in the room.
But with their thoughts fixed upon that vision of a while
ago-a woman appearing before them within twenty
paces of the spot where death to the Stadtholder had just
been loudly proclaimed amongst them-with that vision
fixed upon their minds, they found light conversation and
ordinary manner very difficult to keep up.
The peroration of the young adventurer had proved a
welcome diversion : it had immediately aroused Stouten-
burg's interest. He it was who first drew Beresteyn's
attention to it, and he again who checked the angry words
which more than once rose to his friend's lips at the insolent
attitude affected by the knave.
And now when the latter finally swaggered out of the
room it was Stoutenburg who made a sign to Beresteyn
and then immediately rose to go.
Beresteyn paid his account and went out too, in the
wake of his friend.
With the advent of the small morning hours the snow
once more began to fall in large sparse flakes that lay
thick and glistening where they fell. At the end of the
Kleine Hout Straat where the two men presently found
themselves, the feeble light of a street lamp glimmered
through this white fluttering veil: with its help the group
of foreign mercenaries could be dimly seen in the distance
as they took leave of one another.
The tall form of Diogenes, crowned with his plumed
hat, was easily distinguishable amongst them. He with
G

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

his two special friends, fat Pythagoras and lean Socrates,
remained standing for a few moments at the corner of the
street after the others had departed: then only did the
three of them turn and walk off in the direction of the
Oude Gracht.
For some reason, as unexplainable as that which had
guided their conduct at the " Lame Cow," Beresteyn and
Stoutenburg, quite unconscious of the cold, elected to
follow.
Was it not Chance that willed it so ? Chance who was
busy forging a chain and who had need of these two men's
extraordinary interest in a nameless adventurer in order
to make the links of that chain fit as neatly as she desired.
At the bottom of the Kleine Hout Straat, where it
abuts on the Oude Gracht, the three philosophers had
again paused, obviously this time in order to take leave
of one another. The houses here were of a peculiarly
woe-begone appearance, with tiny windows which could
not possibly have allowed either air or light to penetrate
within, and doors that were left ajar and were creaking
on their hinges, showing occasional glimpses of dark
unventilated passages beyond and of drifts of snow
heaped up against the skirting of the worm-eaten, broken-
down wooden floors. They were miserable lodging-
houses of flimsy construction and low rentals, which the
close proximity of the sluggish canal rendered undesirable.
The ground floor was in most instances occupied by
squalid-looking shops, from which fetid odours emanated
through the chinks and cracks of the walls. The upper
rooms were let out as night-lodgings to those who were
too poor to afford better quarters.
Diogenes, with all his swagger and his airs of an out-at-
elbows gentleman, evidently was one of those, for he was
now seen standing on the threshold of one of these dila-
pidated houses and his two friends were finally bidding
him good-night.
By tacit consent Beresteyn and Stoutenburg drew back
further into the shadow of the houses opposite. There
appeared to be some understanding between these two
men, an understanding anent a matter of supremely

THE LODGINGS WHICH WERE PAID FOR 99
grave import, which caused them to stand here on the
watch with feet buried in the snow that lay thick in the
doorways, silently taking note of every word spoken and
of every act that occurred on the other side of this evil-
smelling street.
There seemed to be no need for speech between them;
for the nonce each knew that the other's thoughts were
running in the same groove as his own; and momen-
tarily these thoughts were centred into a desire to ascertain
definitely if it was the tallest and youngest of those three
knaves over there who lodged in that particular house.
It was only when the fat man and the lean one had
finally turned away and left their comrade on the door-
step that the watchers appeared satisfied and nodding
silently to one another made ready to go home. They
had turned their steps once more toward the more salu-
brious and elegant quarter of the city, and had gone but
a few steps in that direction, when something occurred
behind them which arrested their attention and caused
them to look back once more.
The Something was a woman's cry, pitiful in the ex-
treme : not an unusual sound in the streets of a prosperous
city surely, and one which under ordinary circumstances
would certainly not have aroused Stoutenburg's or
Beresteyn's interest. But the circumstances were not
ordinary; the cry came from the very spot where the
two men had last seen the young stranger standing in the
doorway of his lodgings and the appeal was obviously
directed toward him.
" Kind sir," the woman was saying in a quavering
voice, " half a guilder, I entreat you, for the love of Christ."
" Half a guilder, my good woman," Diogenes said in
response, " 'Tis a fortune to such as I. I have not a
kreutzer left in my wallet, 'pon my honour ! "
Whereupon the two men who watched this scene from
the opposite side of the street saw that the woman fell
on her knees, and that beside her there stood an old man
who made ready to follow her example.
" It's no use wearing out your stockings on this
snow-covered ground, my good girl," said Diogenes

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

good-humouredly. " All the kneeling in the world will
not put half a guilder into my pocket nor apparently
into yours."
" And father and I must sleep under the canal bridge
and it is so bitterly cold," the woman moaned more
feebly.
" Distinctly an uncomfortable place whereat to spend
a night," rejoined the philosopher, " I have slept there
myself before now, so I know."
Seemingly he made an attempt to turn incontinently
on his heel, for the woman put out her hands and held
on to his cloak.
" Father is crippled with ague, kind sir, he will die
if he sleeps out there to-night," she cried.
" I am afraid he will," said Diogenes blandly.
In the meanwhile, Pythagoras and Socrates, who
evidently had not gone very far, returned in order to see
what was going on, on their friend's doorstep. It was
Pythagoras who first recognized the wench.
"Thunder and lightning," he exclaimed, " 'tis the
Papist! "
" Which Papist ? " queried Diogenes.
" Yes, gentle sirs," said the woman piteously, " you
rescued me nobly this evening from that awful, howling
mob. My father and I were able to go to midnight mass
in peace. May God reward you all. But," she added
naively, " 'twas no good preventing those horrid men
from killing us, if we are to die from cold and hunger
under the bridge of the canal."
All of which was not incomprehensible to the two men
oni the watch who had heard a graphic account of the
affray in Dam Straat as it was told by Pythagoras in the
tap-room of the " Lame Cow." And they both drew a
little nearer so as not to lose a word of the scene which
they were watching with ever growing interest. Neither
of them attempted to interfere in it, however, though
Beresteyn at any rate could have poured many a guilder
in the hands of those two starving wretches, without
being any the poorer himself and though he was in truth
not a hard-hearted man.

Io00

THE LODGINGS WHICH WERE PAID FOR ioi
" The wench is right," now said Diogenes firmly
" the life which we helped to save, we must not allow to
be frittered away. I talked of stockings, girl," he added
lightly, " but I see thy feet are bare . . . Brrr ! I freeze
when I look at thee . ."
" For a quarter guilder father and I could find a
lodging . ."
" But Dondersteen !" he exclaimed, "did I not tell
thee that I have not one kreutzer in my wallet, and unless
my friends can help thee . . ."
" Diogenes thou speakest trash," interposed Pythagoras
softly.
"We must both starve of cold this night," moaned
the woman in despair.
"Nay ye shall not!" said Diogenes with sudden
decision. " There is a room in this very house which has
been paid for three nights in advance. Go to it, wench,
'tis at the very top of the stairs, crawl thither as fast as
thou canst, dragging thy ramshackle parent in thy
wake. What ho there !" he shouted at the top of his
ringing voice, "what ho my worthy landlord ! What
ho!"
And with his powerful fists he began pounding against
the panels of the door which swung loosely under the
heavy blows.
Stoutenburg and Beresteyn drew yet a little nearer:
they were more deeply interested than ever in all that
was going on outside this squalid lodging house.
The three philosophers were making a sufficiency of
noise to wake half the street and within a very few minutes
they succeeded in their purpose. .Through one or two of
the narrow frames overhead heads appeared enveloped in
shawls or cloaks, and anon the landlord of the house came
shuffling down the passage, carrying a lighted, guttering
taper.
The two silent watchers could not see this man, but
they could hear him grumbling and scolding audibly in
short jerky sentences which he appeared to throw some-
what tentatively at his rowdy lodger.
" Late hour of the night," they heard him muttering.

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

" New Year's morning . . . Respectable house . . . noise
to attract the town guard . ."
"Hadst thou turned out of thy bed sooner, O well-
beloved lord of this abode of peace," said Diogenes
cheerily, "there would have been less noise outside its
portals. Had I not loved thee as I do, I would not
have wakened thee from thy sleep, but would have acted
in accordance with my rights and without bringing to
thy ken a matter which would vastly have astonished thee
in the morning."
The man continued tomutter, more impatiently this time:
"New Year's morning . . . respectable citizen . . .
work to do in the morning . . . undesirable lodgers . . ."
"All lodgers are desirable who pay for their lodging,
O wise landlord," continued Diogenes imperturbably.
"I have paid thee for mine, for three nights from this
day, and I herewith desire thee to place my palatial
residence at the disposal of this jongejuffrouw and of
mynheer her father."
The man's mutterings became still more distinct.
" Baggage . . . how do I know ? . . . not bound to
receive them. ."
"Nay! but thou art a liar, Master Landlord,"
quoth Diogenes, still speaking quite pleasantly, " for the
lodgings being mine I have the right to receive in them
anybody whom I choose. Therefore now do I give thee
the option, either to show my guests straightway and
with meticulous politeness into my room, or to taste
the power and weight of my boot in the small of thy
back and the hardness of my sword-hilt across thy
shoulders."
This time the man's mutterings became inaudible.
Nicolaes Beresteyn and Stoutenburg could only guess
what was passing in the narrow corridor of the house
opposite. At one moment there was a heart-rending
howl, which suggested that the landlord's obduracy had
lasted a few moments too long for the impatient temper
of a philosopher; but the howl was not repeated and soon
Diogenes' clear voice rang out lustily again:
" There ! I knew that gentle persuasion would prevail.

102

THE LODGINGS WHICH WERE PAID FOR Io3
Dearly beloved landlord, now I pray thee guide the
jongejuffrouw and mynheer her father to my sleeping
chamber. It is at thy disposal, wench, for three nights,"
he added airily, "make the most of it ; and if thou hast
aught to complain of my friend the landlord, let me know.
I am always to be found at certain hours of the day
within the congenial four walls of the 'Lame Cow.'
Good-night then and pleasant dreams."
What went on after that the watchers could, of course,
not see. The wench and the old man had disappeared
inside the house, where, if they had a spark of gratitude
in them, they would undoubtedly be kneeling even now
at the feet of their whimsical benefactor.
The next moment the interested spectators of this
stirring little scene beheld the three philosophers once
more standing together at the corner of the street under
the feebly flickering lamp and the slowly falling snow ; the
door of the lodging-house had been slammed to behind
them and the muffled heads had disappeared from out
the framework of the windows above.
" And now, perhaps you will tell us what you are going
to do," said Pythagoras in flute-like tones.
" There is not a bed vacant in the dormitory where I
sleep," said Socrates.
" Nor would I desire to sleep in one of those kennels
fit only for dogs which I cannot imagine how you both
can stomach," quoth Diogenes lightly; " the close proxi-
mity of Pythagoras and yourself and of all those who
are most like you in the world would chase pleasing sleep
from mine eyelids. I prefer the Canal."
"You cannot sleep out of doors in this h -- of a
cold night," growled Socrates.
"And I cannot go back to the 'Lame Cow,' for I
have not a kreutzer left in my wallet wherewith to pay
for a sip."
" Then what the d ----I are you going to do ? " reiterated
Pythagoras plaintively.
"I have a friend," said Diogenes after a slight pause.
" Hm ? " was the somewhat dubious comment on this
fairly simple statement.

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

" He will give me breakfast early in the morning."
" Hm! "
" 'Tis but a few hours to spend in lonely communion
-with nature."
" Hm!"
" The cathedral clock has struck three, at seven my
good Hals will ply me with hot ale and half his hunk of
bread and cheese."
" Hals ? " queried Socrates.
"Frans Hals," replied Diogenes; "he paints pictures
and contrives to live on the proceeds. If his wife does not
happen to throw me out, he will console me for the
discomforts of this night."
" Bah ! " ejaculated Pythagoras in disgust, " a painter
of pictures ! "
" And a brave man when he is sober."
"With a scold for a wife ! Ugh ! what about your
playing the part of a gentleman now ? "
" The play was short, O wise Pythagoras," retorted
Diogenes with imperturbable good humour, " the curtain
has already come down upon the last act. I am once
more a knave, a merchant ready to flatter the customer
who will buy his wares: Hech there, sir, my lord ! what
are your needs ? My sword, my skin, they are yours to
command ! so many guilders, sir, and I will kill your
enemy for you, fight your battles, abduct the wench that
pleases you. So many guilders! and when they are
safely in my pocket I can throw my glove in your face
lest you think I have further need of your patronage."
" 'Tis well to brag," muttered Pythagoras, " but you'll
starve with cold this night."
" But at dawn I'll eat a hearty breakfast offered me
by my friend Frans Hals for the privilege of painting my
portrait."
" Doth he really paint thy portrait, O handsome
Diogenes ? " said Pythagoras unctuously.
" Aye ! thou ugly old toad. He has begun a new one,
for which I have promised to sit. I'll pay for the break-
fast he gives me, by donning a gorgeous gold embroidered
doublet which he once stole from somewhere, by putting

THE LODGINGS WHICH WERE PAID FOR 105
my hand on my hip, tilting my hat at a becoming angle,
and winking at him by the hour whilst he paints away."
" Hm ! after a night of wandering by the canal in the
fog and snow and sharing the meagre breakfast of a half-
starved painter, methinks the portrait will be that of a
knight of the rueful countenance."
" Indeed not, old compeer," said Diogenes with a
hearty laugh, " it shall be the portrait of a Laughing
Cavalier."

CHAPTER IX

THE PAINTER OF PICTURES

AFTER this episode chance had little to do with the
further events of this veracious chronicle.
Men took their destiny in their own hands and laughed
at Fate and at the links of the chain which she had been
forging so carefully and so patiently ever since she began
the business on the steps of the Stadhuis a few short hours
ago.
Beresteyn and Stoutenburg walking home together in
the small hours of New Year's morning spoke very little
together at first. They strode along side by side, each
buried in his own thoughts, and only a few curt remarks
passed at intervals between them.
But something lay on the minds of both-something of
which each desired to speak to the other, yet neither of
them seemed willing to be the first to broach the absorbing
topic.
It was Stoutenburg who at last broke the silence.
" A curious personality, that knave," he said carelessly
after awhile, "an unscrupulous devil as daring as he is
reckless of consequences I should say ... yet trust-
worthy withal . . . what think you ? "
" A curious personality as you say," replied Beresteyn
vaguely.
" He might have been useful to us had we cared to pay
for his services . . . but now 'tis too late to think of
further accomplices . .. new men won or bought for
our cause only mean more victims for the gallows."
" You take a gloomy view of the situation," said
Beresteyn sombrely.
Io6

THE PAINTER OF PICTURES

" No! only a fatalistic one. With our secret in a
woman's keeping . . . and that woman free and even
anxious to impart it to one of my most bitter enemies . . .
I can see nought that can ward off the inevitable."
" Except . ."
"Yes, of course," rejoined Stoutenburg earnestly,
" if you, Nicolaes, are ready to make the sacrifice which
alone could save us all."
" It is a sacrifice which will involve my honour, my
sister's love for me, my father's trust . ."
"If you act wisely and circumspectly, my friend,"
retorted Stoutenburg dryly, "neither your father nor
Gilda herself need ever know that you had a share in . . .
in what you propose to do."
Beresteyn made no reply and he and his friend walked
on in silence until they reached the small house close to
the " Lame Cow " where Stoutenburg had his lodgings.
Here they shook hands before parting and Stoutenburg
held his friend's hand in his tightly grasped for a moment
or two while he said earnestly :
" It is only for a few days, Nicolaes, a few days during
which I swear to you that-though absent and engaged
in the greatest task that any man can undertake on
this earth-I swear to you that I will keep watch over
Gilda and defend her honour with my life. If you will
make the sacrifice for me and for our cause, Heaven and
your country will reward you beyond your dreams. With
the death of the Stadtholder my power in the Netherlands
will be supreme, and herewith, with my hand in yours, I
solemnly plight my troth to Gilda. She was the first
woman I ever loved, and I have never ceased to love her.
Now she fills my heart and soul even-at times-to the
exclusion of my most ambitious hopes. Nicolaes-my
friend-it is in your power to save my life as well as your
own: an you will do it, there will be no bounds to my
gratitude."
And Beresteyn replied calmly :
" The sacrifice which you ask of me I will make : I will
take the risk for the sake of my country and of my faith.
To-morrow at noon I will come to your lodgings and tell

107

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

you in detail all the arrangements which I shall have made
by then. I have no fear for Gilda. I believe that
Heaven has guided my thoughts and footsteps to-night
for the furtherance of our cause."
After which the two men took final leave of one
another: Stoutenburg's tall lean form quickly dis-
appeared under the doorway of the house, whilst Beresteyn
walked rapidly away up the street.

Now it was close on ten o'clock of New Year's morning.
Nicolaes Beresteyn had spent several hours in tossing
restlessly under the warm eiderdown and between the
fine linen sheets embroidered by his sister's deft hands.
During these hours of sleeplessness a plan had matured
in his mind which though it had finally issued from his
own consciousness had really found its origin in the
reckless brain of Willem van Stoutenburg.
Beresteyn now saw himself as the saviour of his friends
and of their patriotic cause. He felt that in order to
carry out the plan which he firmly believed that he himself
had conceived, he was making a noble sacrifice for his
country and for his faith, and he was proud to think that
it lay in his power to offer the sacrifice. That this same
sacrifice would have his own sister for victim, he cared
seemingly very little. He was one of those men in whose
hearts political aims outweigh every tender emotion, and
he firmly believed that Gilda would be richly rewarded
by the fulfilment of that solemn promise made by Stouten-
burg.
Exquisite visions of satisfied ambition, of triumph and
of glory chased away sleep: he saw his friend as supreme
ruler of the State, with powers greater than the Princes of
Orange had ever wielded: he saw Gilda-his sister-
grateful to him for the part which he had played in re-unit-
ing her to the man whom she had always loved, she too
supreme in power as the proud wife of the new Stadt-
holder. And he saw himself as the Lord High Advocate
of the Netherlands standing in the very shoes of that
same John of Barneveld whose death he would have
helped to avenge.

o08

THE PAINTER OF PICTURES

These and other thoughts had stirred Nicolaes
Beresteyn's fancy while he lay awake during these the
first hours of the New Year, and it was during those
self-same hours that a nameless stranger whom his
compeers called Diogenes had tramped up and down
the snow-covered streets of Haarlem trying to keep
himself warm.
I am very sorry to have to put it on record that during
that time he swore more than once at his own soft-
heartedness which had caused him to give up his hard
but sheltered paillasse to a pair of Papists who were
nothing to him and whom probably he would never see
again.
"I begin to agree with that bloated puff-ball Pytha-
goras," he mused dejectedly once, when an icy wind,
blowing straight from the North Sea, drove the falling
snow into his boots, and under his collar, and up his sleeves,
and nearly froze the marrow in his bones, " it is but
sorry pleasure to play at being a gentleman. And I had
not many hours of it either," he added ruefully.
Even the most leaden-footed hours do come to an end
however. At one half after six Diogenes turned his
steps toward the Peuselaarsteeg where dwelt his friend
Frans Hals, the painter of pictures. Fortunately Mev-
rouw Hals was in a fairly good temper, the last portrait
group of the officers of St. Joris' Shooting Guild had just
been paid for, and there was practically a new commission
to paint yet another group of these gentlemen.
And Mynheer van Zeller the deputy bailiff had bought
the fancy picture too, for which that knave Diogenes had
sat last year, so Mevrouw Hals was willing to provide the
young man with a savoury and hot breakfast if he were
willing once again to allow Frans to make a picture of
his pleasant face.
Mevrouw Hals being in rare good humour, the breakfast
was both substantial and savoury. Diogenes, who was
starved with cold as well as with hunger, did great honour
to all that was laid before him: he ate heartily while
recounting his adventures of the past night to his friend.
"All that trouble for a Papist wench," said the

lo9

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

painter as contemptuously as Pythagoras himself would
have done, " and maybe a Spaniard too."
" Good-looking girl," quoth Diogenes dryly, " and
would make you a good model, Frans. For a few kreut-
zers she'd be glad enough to do it."
" I'll have none of these vixens inside my house,"
interposed Mevrouw Hals decisively, " and don't you
teach Frans any of your loose ways, my man."
Diogenes made no reply, he only winked at his friend.
No doubt he thought that Hals no longer needed teaching.
The two men repaired to the studio, a huge bare room
littered with canvasses, but void of furniture, save for an
earthenware stove in which fortunately a cheerful fire was
blazing, a big easel roughly fashioned of deal, a platform
for the model to stand on, and two or three rush-bottomed
chairs: there was also a ramshackle dowry chest; black
with age, which mayhap had once held the piles of home-
made linen brought as a dowry by the first Mevrouw Hals :
now it seemed to contain a heterogeneous collection of
gaudy rags, together with a few fine articles of attire,
richly embroidered relics of more prosperous days.
The artist went straight up to the chest and from out
the litter he selected a bundle of clothes which he handed
over to his friend.
" Slip into them as quickly as you can, old compeer," he
said, " my fingers are itching to get to work."
And while he fixed the commenced picture on the
easel and set out his palette, Diogenes threw off his shabby
clothes and donned the gorgeous doublet and sash which
the painter had given him.

IIo

CHAPTER X

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

WE all know every fold of that doublet now, with its
magnificent sleeves, crimson-lined and richly embroided,
its slashings which afford peeps of snowy linen, and its
accessories of exquisite lace; the immortal picture then
painted by Frans Hals, and which he called the Laughing
Cavalier, has put its every line on record for all times.
Diogenes wore it with delight. Its splendour suited his
swaggering air to perfection : its fine black cloth, delicate
lace and rich silk sash set off to perfection his well-
proportioned massive figure.
A joy to the artist every bit of him, the tone, the pose,
the line, the colour and that face full of life, of the joy
of living, that merry twinkle in the eyes, that laugh that
for ever hovers on the lips.
We all stand before it, marvelling at the artist's skill,
for we know that the portrait is true to the life ; we know
that it is true, because we know the man; his whole
character is there indelibly writ upon the canvas by the
master-hand of a genius :-Diogenes the soldier of fortune
is there, the man who bows to no will save to his own, too
independent to bow to kindred or to power, the man who
takes life as he finds it, but leavens it with his own gaiety
and the priceless richness of his own humour: we know
him for his light-hearted gaiety, we condone his swagger,
we forgive his reckless disregard of all that makes for
sobriety and respectability. The eyes twinkle at us,
the mouth all but speaks, and we know and recognize
every detail as true; only the fine, straight brow, the
III

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

noble forehead, the delicate contour of the nose and jaw
puzzle us at times, for those we cannot reconcile with the
man's calling or with his namelessness, until we remember
his boast in the tavern of the "'Lame Cow" on New
Year's morning: "My father was one of those who
came in English Leicester's train."
So we see him now standing quite still, while the artist
is absorbed in his work: his tall figure very erect, the
head slightly thrown back, the well-shaped hand resting on
the hip and veiled in folds of filmy lace. And so did
MynheeVNicolaes Beresteyn see him as he entered the
artist's studio at ten o'clock of that same New Year's
morning.
" A happy New Year to you, my good Hals," he said
with easy condescension. " Vervloekte weather, eh-
for the incoming year ! there must be half a foot of snow
in the by-streets by now."
With that same air of graciousness he acknowledged
the artist's obsequious bow. His father, Mynheer Coun-
cillor Beresteyn, was an avowed patron of Frans Hals and
the hour had not yet struck in civilized Europe when
wealth would go hat in hand bowing to genius and
soliciting its recognition. In this year of grace 1624
genius had still to hold the hat and to acknowledge if
not to solicit the kindly favours of wealth.
Nicolaes Beresteyn did not know exactly how to greet
the man with whom he had a few hours ago bandied
arguments in the tap-room of a tavern, and whom-to
tell the truth-he had expressly come to find. The
complaisant. nod which he had bestowed on Frans Hals
did not somehow seem appropriate for that swaggering
young knight of industry, who looked down on him
from the high eminence of the model's platform so that
Nicolaes was obliged to look well up, if he wished to meet
his glance at all.
It was the obscure soldier of fortune who relieved the
pompous burgher of his embarrassment.
" Fate hath evidently not meant that we should
remain strangers, sir," he said lightly, " this meeting after
last night's pleasing amenities is indeed unexpected."

112

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

"And most welcome, sir, as far as I am concerned,"
rejoined Nicolaes pleasantly. "My name is Nicolaes
Beresteyn and right glad am I to renew our acquaintance
of last night. I had no idea that my friend Hals could
command so perfect a model. No wonder that his
pictures have become the talk of the town."
He turned back to Hals now with a resumption of his
patronizing manner.
"I came to confirm my father's suggestion; my good
Hals, that you should paint his portrait and at the price
you named yourself. The officers of St. Joris' Guild are
also desirous, as I understand, of possessing yet another
group from your brush."
" I shall be honoured," said the artist simply.
" 'Tis many an ugly face you'll have to paint within the
next few months, my friend," added Diogenes lightly.
" My father is reckoned one of the handsomest men in
Holland," retorted Beresteyn with becoming dignity.
" And the owner of the finest tulip bulbs in the land,"
said the other imperturbably. "I heard him tell last
night that he had just given more florins for one bit of
dried onion than I have ever fingered in the whole course
of my life."
" Fortune, sir, has not dealt with you hitherto in
accordance with your deserts."
" No ! 'tis my sternest reproach against her."
" There is always a tide, sir, in a man's fortunes."
" Mine I feel, sir, is rising at your call."
There was a moment's pause now while the two men
looked on one another eye to eye, appraising one another,
each counting on his opponent's worth. Then Nicolaes
suddenly turned back to Frans Hals.
" My good Hals," he said, " might I crave a favour from
your friendship ? "
" I am at your service, mynheer, now as always as you
know," murmured the artist, who indeed was marvelling
what favour so illustrious a gentleman could ask of a
penniless painter of portraits.
" 'Tis but a small matter to you," rejoined Nicolaes,
" but it would be of great service to me. I desire to hold
H

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

private conversation with this gentleman. Could I do
so in your house without attracting anybody's atten-
tion ? "
" Easily, sir. This room though none too comfortable
is at your disposal. I have plenty of work to do in
another part of my house. No one will come in here. You
will be quite undisturbed."
"I am infinitely obliged to you. 'Tis but half-an-
hour's privacy I desire . .. providing this gentleman
will grant me the interview."
" Like my friend Hals," rejoined Diogenes suavely,
" I am, sir, at your service. The tides are rising around
me, I feel them swelling even as I speak. I have an
overwhelming desire to ride on the crest of the waves,
rather than to duck under them against my will."
"I hope this intrusion will not retard your work too
much, my good Hals," said Beresteyn with somewhat
perfunctory solicitude when he saw that the artist finally
put his brushes and palette on one side, and in an ab-
stracted manner began to dust a couple of ricketty chairs
and then place them close to the stove.
" Oh! " interposed Diogenes airily, "the joy of being
of service to so bountiful a patron will more than com-
pensate Frans Hals for this interruption to his work.
Am I not right, old friend ? " he added with just a soupcon
of seriousness in the mocking tones of his voice.
Hals murmured a few words under his breath which
certainly seemed to satisfy Beresteyn, for the latter made
no further attempt at apology and only watched with
obvious impatience the artist's slow progress out of the
room.
As soon as the heavy oaken door had fallen-to behind
the master of this house, Beresteyn turned with marked
eagerness to Diogenes.
" Now, sir," he said, "will you accord me your close
attention for a moment. On my honour it will be to
your advantage so to do."
"And to your own, I take it, sir," rejoined Diogenes,
as he stepped down from the elevated platform and sat
himself astride one of the ricketty chairs facing his

I14

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

interlocutor who had remained standing. " To your own
too, sir, else you had not spent half an hour in that
vervloekte weather last night pacing an insalubrious
street in order to find out where I lodged."
Nicolaes bit his lip with vexation.
" You saw me ? " he asked.
" I have eyes at the back of my head," replied the young
man. " I knew that you followed me in company with a
friend all the way from the door of the ' Lame Cow' and
that you were not far off when I announced my intention
of sleeping under the stars and asking my friend Frans
Hals for some breakfast later on."
Beresteyn had quickly recovered his equanimity.
" I have no cause to deny it," he said.
" None," assented Diogenes.
" Something, sir, in your manner and your speech last
night aroused my interest. Surely you would not take
offence at that."
" Certainly not."
"And hearing you speak, a certain instinct prompted
me to try and not lose sight of you if I could by some
means ascertain where you lodged. My friend and I did
follow you : I own it, and we witnessed a little scene which
I confess did you infinite credit."
Diogenes merely bowed his head this time in acknow-
ledgment.
" It showed, sir," resumed Nicolaes after a slight pause,
" that you are chivalrous to a fault, brave and kindly:
and these are just the three qualities which I-even like
your illustrious namesake-have oft sought for in vain."
" Shall we add, also for the sake of truth, sir," said
Diogenes pleasantly, " that I am obviously penniless,
presumably unscrupulous and certainly daring, and that
these are just the three qualities which you . . . and
your friend . .. most require at the present moment
in the man whom you wish to pay for certain services."
" You read my thoughts, sir."
" Have I not said that I have eyes at the back of my
head ? "
And Nicolaes Beresteyn wondered if that second pair of

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

eyes were as merry and mocking and withal as inscrutable
as those that met his now.
"Well," he said as if with suddenly conceived deter-
mination, "again I see no cause why I should deny it.
Yes, sir, you have made a shrewd guess. I have need of
your services, of your chivalry and of your valour and
. well, yes," he added after an instant's hesitation, " of
your daring and your paucity of scruples too. As for
your penury, why, sir, if you like, its pangs need worry you
no longer."
" It all sounds very tempting, sir," said Diogenes with
his most winning smile, " suppose now that we put
preliminaries aside and proceed more directly with our
business."
"As you will."
Nicolaes Beresteyn now took the other chair and
brought it close to his interlocutor. Then he sat down
and sinking his voice to a whisper he began :
"I will be as brief and to the point as I can, sir.
There are secrets as you know the knowledge of which is
oft-times dangerous. Such an one was spoken of in the
cathedral last night after watch-night service by six men
who hold their lives in their hands and are ready to
sacrifice it for the good of their country and of their
faith."
"In other words," interposed Diogenes with dry
humour, " six men in the cathedral last night decided to
murder some one for the good of this country and of their
faith and for the complete satisfaction of the devil."
" 'Tis false ! " cried Beresteyn involuntarily.
" Be not angered, sir, I was merely guessing-and not
guessing methinks very wide of the mark. I pray you
proceed. You vastly interest me. We left then six
men in the cathedral after watch-night service plotting
for the welfare of Holland and the established Faith."
"Their lives, sir," resumed Beresteyn more calmly,
" depend on the inviolability of their secret. You are good
at guessing-will you guess what would happen to those
six men if their conversation last night had been over-
heard and their secret betrayed."

n16

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

"The scaffold," said Diogenes laconically.
" And torture."
"Of course. Holland always has taken the lead in
civilation of late."
"Torture and death, sir," reiterated Beresteyn ve-
hemently. " There are six men in this city to-day whose
lives are at the mercy of one woman."
"Oho ! 'twas a woman then who surprised those six
men in their endeavour to do good to Holland and to
uphold the Faith."
"Rightly spoken, sir ! To do good to Holland and to
uphold the Faith ! those are the two motives which guide
six ardent patriots in their present actions and cause
them to risk their lives and more, that they may bring
about the sublime end. A woman has surprised their
secret, a woman pure and good as the stars but a woman
for all that, weak in matters of sentiment and like to be
swayed by a mistaken sense of what she would call her
duty. A woman now, sir, holds the future happiness of
Holland, the triumph of Faith and the lives of six stalwart
patriots in the hollow of her hand."
" And 'tis with the lives of six stalwart patriots that we
are most concerned at the moment, are we not ? " asked
Diogenes blandly.
" Put it as you will, sir. I cannot expect you-a stran-
ger-to take the welfare of Holland and of her Faith so
earnestly as we Dutchmen do. Our present concern is
with the woman."
" Is she young ? "
" Yes."
" Pretty ? "
" What matter ? "
"I don't know. The fact might influence mine actions.
For of course you wish to put the woman out of the way."
" Only for a time and from my soul I wish her no harm.
I only want to place her out of the reach of doing us all
a grievous wrong. Already she has half threatened to
speak of it all to my father. The idea of it is unthinkable.
I want her out of the way for a few days, not more than
ten days at most. I want her taken out of Haarlem, to a

I1I7

118 THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
place of safety which I will point out to you anon, and
under the care of faithful dependents who would see that
not a hair on her head be injured. You see, sir, that
what I would ask of you would call forth your chivalry
and need not shame it; it would call forth your daring
and your recklessness of consequences and if you will
undertake to do me service in this, my gratitude and that
of my friends as well as the sum of 2,0oo guilders will
be yours to command."
" About a tenth part of the money in fact which your
father, sir, doth oft give for a bulb."
" Call it 3,000, sir," said Nicolaes Beresteyn, " we would
still be your debtors."
" You are liberal, sir."
" It means my life and that of my friends, and most of
us are rich."
" But the lady-I must know more about her. Ah sir !
this is a hard matter for me- A lady-young-presum-
ably fair-of a truth I care naught for women, but please
God I have never hurt a woman yet."
" Who spoke of hurting her, man ? " queried Nicolaes
haughtily.
"This abduction-the State secret-the matter of life
and death-the faithful dependent-how do I know, sir,
that all this is true ? "
"On the word of honour of a gentleman ! " retorted
Beresteyn hotly.
"A gentleman's honour is easily attenuated where a
woman is concerned."
" The lady is my own sister, sir."
Diogenes gave a long, low whistle.
" Your sister ! " he exclaimed.
" My only sister and one who is dearly loved. You see,
sir, that her safety and her honour are dearer to me than
mine own."
"Yet you propose entrusting both to me," said
Diogenes with a mocking laugh, "to me, a nameless
adventurer, a penniless wastrel whose trade lies in his
sword and his wits."
"Which must prove to you, sir, firstly b w true are

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

my instincts, and secondly how hardly I am pressed. My
instinct last night told me that in this transaction I could
trust you. To-day I have realized more fully than I did
last night that my sister is a deadly danger to many, to
our country and to our Faith. She surprised a secret,
the knowledge of which had she been a man would have
meant death then and there in the chapel of the cathe-
dral. Had it been a brother of mine instead of a sister
who surprised our secret, my friends would have killed
him without compunction and I would not have raised
a finger to save him. Being a woman she cannot pay
for her knowledge with her life; but her honour and her
freedom are forfeit to me because I am a man and she a
woman. I am strong and she is weak ; she has threatened
to betray me and my friends and I must protect them and
our cause. I have decided to place her there where she
cannot harm us, but some one must convey her thither,
since I must not appear before her in this matter. There-
fore hath my choice fallen on you, sir, for that mission,
chiefly because of that instinct which last night told me
that I could trust you. If my instinct should prove me
wrong, I would kill you for having cheated me, but I
would even then not regret what I had done."
He paused and for a moment looked straight into the
laughter-loving face of the man in whose keeping he
was ready to entrust with absolute callousness the safety
and honour of one whom he should have protected with
his life. The whole face even now seemed still to laugh,
the eyes twinkled, the mouth was curled in a smile.
The next moment the young adventurer had risen
to his full height. He picked up his hat which lay on
the platform close beside him and with it in his hand he
made an elaborate and deep bow to Nicolaes Beresteyn.
" Sir ? " queried the latter in astonishment.
"At your service, sir," said Diogenes gaily, "I am
saluting a greater blackguard than I can ever hope to be
myself."
" Insolent ! " exclaimed Nicolaes hotly.
" Easy, easy, my good sir," interposed the other calmly,
" it would not suit your purpose or mine that we should

r119

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

cut one another's throat. Let me tell you at once and
for the appeasing of your anxiety and that of your friends
that I will, for the sum of 4,000 guilders, take Jongejuff-
rouw Beresteyn from this city to any place you may choose
to name. This should also ease your pride, for it will
prove to you that I also am a consummate blackguard
and that you therefore need not stand shamed before me.
I have named a higher sum than the one which you have
offered me, not with any desire to squeeze you, sir, but
because obviously I cannot do this work single-handed.
The high roads are not safe. I could not all alone pro-
tect the lady against the army of footpads that infest
them, I shall have to engage and pay an escort for her all
the way. But she shall reach the place to which you
desire me to take her, to this I pledge you my word.
Beyond that . . . well! you have said it yourself, by
her knowledge of your secret she has forfeited her own
safety; you-her own brother--choose to entrust her
to me. The rest lies between you and your honour."
An angry retort once more rose to Nicolaes Beresteyn's
lips, but commonsense forced him to check it. The man
was right in what he said. On the face of it his action in
entrusting his own sister into the keeping of a knight of
industry, a nameless wastrel whose very calling pro-
claimed him an unscrupulous adventurer, was the action
of a coward and of a rogue. Any man with a spark of
honour in him-would condemn Nicolaes Beresteyn as
a blackguard for this deed. Nevertheless there was
undoubtedly something in the whole personality of this
same adventurer that in a sense exonerated Nicolaes from
the utter dishonour of his act.
On the surface the action was hideous, monstrous, and
cowardly, but beneath that surface there was the under-
current of trust in this one man, the firm belief born of
nothing more substantial than an intuition that this man
would in this matter play the part of a gentleman.
But it is not my business to excuse Nicolaes Beresteyn
in this. What guided him solely in his present action
was that primary instinct of self-preservation, that sense
which animals have without the slightest knowledge or

120

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER 121
experience on their part and which has made men play
at times the part of a hero and at others that of a knave.
Stoutenburg, who was always daring and always un-
scrupulous where his own ambitious schemes were at
stake, had by a careful hint shown him a way of effectually
silencing Gilda during the next few days. Beresteyn's
mind filled to overflowing with a glowing desire for success
and for life had readily worked upon the hint.
And he did honestly believe-as hundreds of misguided
patriots have believed before and since-that Heaven
was on his side of the political business and had expressly
led along his path this one man of all others who would do
what was asked of him and whom he could trust.

CHAPTER XI

THE BARGAIN

THERE had been silence in the great, bare work-room for
some time, silence only broken by Beresteyn's restless
pacing up and down the wooden floor. Diogenes had
resumed his seat, his shrewd glance following every
movement of the other man, every varied expression of
his face.
At last Nicolaes come to a halt opposite to him.
" Am I to understand then, sir," he asked, looking
Diogenes straight between the eyes and affecting not to
note the mocking twinkle within them, " that you accept
my proposition and that you are prepared to do me ser-
vice ? "
"Absolutely, sir," replied the other.
" Then shall we proceed with the details ? "
" An it please you."
" You will agree to do me service for the sum of 4,000
guilders ? "
" In gold."
"Of course. For this sum you will convey Jonge-
juffrouw Beresteyn out of Haarlem, conduct her with a
suitable escort and in perfect safety to Rotterdam and
there deliver her into the hands of Mynheer Ben Isaje-
the banker-who does a vast amount of business for me
and is entirely and most discreetly devoted to my interests.
His place of business is situated on the Schiedamsche
Straat and is a house well known to every one in Rotter-
dam seeing that Mynheer Ben Isaje is the richest money-
lending Jew in the city."
122

" That is all fairly simple, sir," assented Diogenes.
" You will of course tender me your oath of secrecy."
" My word of honour, sir. If I break that I would be
as likely to break an oath."
" Very well," said Beresteyn after a moment's hesita-
tion during which he tried vainly to scrutinize a face
which he had already learned was quite inscrutable.
" Shall we arrange the mode of payment then ? "
" If you please."
" How to obtain possession of the person of the jonge-
juffrouw is not my business to tell you. Let me but in-
form you that to-day being New Year's Day she will surely
go to evensong at the cathedral and that her way from
our home thither will lead her along the bank of the Oude
Gracht between the Zij Straat where our house is situate
and the Hout Straat which debouches on the Groote Markt.
You know the bank of the Oude Gracht better than I do,
sir, so I need not tell you that it is lonely, especially at the
hour when evensong at the cathedral is over. The j onge-
juffrouw is always escorted in her walks by an elderly
duenna whom you will of course take to Rotterdam, so
that she may attend on my sister on the way, and by
two serving men whose combined courage is not, of course,
equal to your own. This point, therefore, I must leave
you to arrange in accordance with your desire."
" I thank you, sir."
" In the same way it rests with you what arrangements
you make for the journey itself; the providing of a
suitable carriage and of an adequate escort I leave entirely
in your hands."
" Again I thank you."
" I am only concerned with the matter itself, and with
the payment which I make to you for your services.
As for your route, you will leave Haarlem by the Holy
Cross gate and proceed straight to Bennebrock, a matter
of a league or so. There I will meet you at the half-way
house which stands at the cross-roads where a signpost
points the way to Leyden. The innkeeper there is a
friend of mine, whose natural discretion has been well
nurtured by frequent gifts from me. He hath name Praff,

THE~ BARGAIN

123

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

and will see to the comfort of my sister and of her duenna,
while you and I settle the first instalment of our business,
quite unbeknown to her. There, sir, having assured my-
self that my sister is safe and in your hands, I will give
over to you the sum of I,ooo guilders, together with a
letter writ by me to the banker Ben Isaje of Rotterdam.
He knows Jongejuffrouw Beresteyn well by sight, and in
my letter I will ask him, firstly, to ascertain from herself
if she is well and safe, and secondly, to see that she is at
once conveyed, still under your escort, to his private
residence which is situate some little distance out of the
city between Schiedam and Overschie on the way to
Delft, and lastly, to hand over to you the balance of 3,000
guilders still due then by me to you."
He paused a moment to draw breath after the lengthy
peroration, then, as Diogenes made no comment, he said
somewhat impatiently:
"I hope, sir, that all these arrangements meet with
your approval ! "
"They fill me with profound respect for you, sir, and
admiration for your administrative capacities," replied
Diogenes, with studied politeness.
" Indeed I do flatter myself . . . " quoth the other.
"Not without reason, sir. The marvellous way in
which you have provided for the safety of three-fourths of
your money, and hardly at all for that of your sister,
fills me with envy which I cannot control."
" Insolent . ."
"No, no, my good sir," interposed Diogenes blandly,
" we have already agreed that we are not going to quarrel,
you and I . . . we have too great a need for one another;
for that 3,000 guilders-which, after deductions, will be
my profit in this matter-means a fortune to a penniless
adventurer, and you are shrewd enough to have gauged
that fact, else you had not come to me with such a pro-
posal. I will do you service, sir, for the 3,000 guilders
which will enable me to live a life of independence in the
future, and also for another reason, which I would not
care to put into words, and which you, sir, would fail to
understand. So let us say no more about all these matters.

124

I agree to your proposals and you accept my services.
To-night at ten o'clock I will meet you at the half-way
house which stands in the hamlet of Bennebrock at
the cross-roads where a signpost points the way to
Leyden."
"To-night ! That's brave!" exclaimed Beresteyn,
" You read my thoughts, sir, even before I could tell you
that delay in this affair would render it useless."
"To-night then, sir," said Diogenes in conclusion,
" I pray you have no fear of failure. The jongejuffrouw
will sleep at Leyden, or somewhere near there, this night.
The city is distant but half-a-dozen leagues, and we can
reach it easily by midnight. From thence in the morning
we can continue our journey, and should be in sight of
Rotterdam twenty-four hours later. For the rest, as
you say, the manner of our journey doth not concern
you. If the frost continues and we can travel by sledge
all the way we could reach Rotterdam in two days;
in any event, even if a thaw were to set in we should not
be more than three days on the way."
He rose from his chair and stood now facing Beresteyn.
His tall figure, stretched to its full height, seemed to
tower above the other man, though the latter was cer-
tainly not short; but Diogenes looked massive--a young
lion sniffing the scent of the desert. The mocking glance,
the curve of gentle irony were still there in eyes and mouth,
but the nostrils quivered with excitement, with the spirit
of adventure which never slept so soundly but that it
awakened at a word.
" And now, sir," he said, " there are two matters, both
of equal importance, which we must settle ere I can get to
work."
" What may these be, sir ? "
"Firstly the question of money. I have not the
wherewithal to make preparations. I shall have to
engage a sleigh for to-night, horses, an escort as far as
Leyden. I shall have to make payments for promises
of secrecy. .. ."
"That is just, sir. Would 200 guilders meet this
difficulty ? "

THE BARGAINN

125

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

"Five hundred would be safer," said Diogenes airily,
" and you may deduct that sum from your first payment
at Bennebrock."
Beresteyn did not choose to notice the impertinent tone
which rang through the other man's speech. Without
wasting further words, he took a purse from his wallet,
and sitting down on one corner of the model's platform,
he emptied the contents of the purse upon it.
He counted out five hundred guilders, partly in silver
and partly in gold. These he replaced in the purse and
then handed it over to Diogenes. The latter had not
moved from his position during this time, standing as
he did at some little distance so that Beresteyn had to
get up in order to hand him the money. Diogenes ac-
knowledged its receipt with a courteous bow.
" And what is the other matter, sir ? " asked Nicolaes,
after he had placed the rest of his money back into his
wallet, "what is the other matter which we have failed
to settle ? "
" The jongejuffrouw, sir . . . I am a comparative
stranger in Haarlem . . . I do not know the illustrious
lady by sight."
' True, I had not thought of that. But this omission
can very easily be remedied . . . if you, sir, will kindly
call our friend Hals; he has, an I mistake not, more than
one sketch of my sister in his studio and a half-finished
portrait of her as well."
" Then I pray you, sir," rejoined Diogenes airily, " do
you go and acquaint our mutual friend of your desire
to show me the half-finished portrait of the jongejuffrouw,
for I must now exchange this gorgeous doublet of a
prosperous cavalier for one more suited to this day's
purpose."
And he immediately proceeded to undress without
paying the slightest heed to Beresteyn's look of offended
dignity.
It was no use being angry with this independent
knave; Nicolaes Beresteyn had found that out by
now, therefore he thought it best to appear indifferent
to this new display of impudence and himself to go and

126

THE BARGAIN 127
seek out Frans Hals as if this had been his own intention
all along.
Inwardly fuming but without uttering another word
he turned on his heel and went out of the room, slamming
the door to behind him.

CHAPTER XII

THE PORTRAIT

WHEN Beresteyn returned to the studio in the company
of Frans Hals they found Diogenes once more clad in his
own well-fitting and serviceable doublet.
The artist looked bitterly disappointed at the sight,
but' naturally forbore to give vent to his feelings in the
presence of his exalted patron.
Apparently he had been told what was required, for
he went straight up to a large canvas which stood at the
further end of the room with its face to the wall, and this
he brought out now and placed upon the easel.
" It is an excellent likeness of my sister," said Nicolaes
with his usual gracious condescension to the artist, " and
does your powers of faithful portraiture vast credit, my
good Hals. I pray you, sir," he added calling to Dio-
genes," come and look at it."
The latter carme and stood in front of the easel and looked
on the picture which was there exhibited for his gaze.
Among the hard lessons which varying Fortune teaches
to those whom she most neglects, there is none so useful
as self-control. Diogenes had learned that lesson
early in his life, and his xwn good humour often had to act
as a mask for deeper emotions. Now, when in the picture
he recognized the woman who had spoken to him last
night after the affray in the Dam Straat, his face in no
sense exprss ed surprise, it still smiled and mocked and
twinkled, and-neither of the two men who stood by guessed
that he had seen the original of this dainty picture under
peculiar circumstances not many hours before.
a8

THE PORTRAIT

That portrait of Jongejuffrouw Beresteyn is one of the
finest ever painted by Frans Hals, the intense naturalness
of the pose is perfect, the sweet yet imperious expression
of the face is most faithfully portrayed. Diogenes saw
her now very much as he had seen her last night, for the
artist had painted the young head against a dark back-
ground and it stood out delicate as a flower, right out of
the canvas and in full light.
The mouth smiled as it had done last night when first
she caught sight of the ludicrous apparition of one philoso-
pher astride on the shoulders of the other, the eyes looked
grave as they had done when she humbly yet gracefully
begged pardon for her levity. The chin was uplifted
as it had been last night, when she made with haughty
condescension her offers of patronage to the penniless
adventurer, and there was the little hand soft and smooth
as the petal of a rose which had rested for one moment
against his lips.
And looking on the picture of this young girl, Diogenes
remembered the words which her own brother had spoken
to him only a few moments ago; " her honour and her
safety are forfeit to me. I would kill you if you cheated
me, but I would not even then regret what I had done."
The daughter of the rich city burgher was, of course,
less than nothing to the nameless carver of his own
fortunes; she was as far removed from his sphere of life
as were the stars from the Zuyder Zee, nor did women
as a sex play any serious part in his schemes for the future,
but at the recollection of those callous and selfish words,
Diogenes felt a wave of fury rushing through his blood;
the same rage seized his temper now as when he saw a
lout once plucking out the feathers of a song bird, and
he fell on him with fists and stick and left him lying bruised
and half-dead in a ditch.
But the hard lesson learned early in life stood him in
good stead. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and
anon his well-shaped hand went up to his moustache and
It almost seemed as if the slender fingers smoothed away
the traces of that wave of wrath which had swept over
him so unaccountably just now, and only left upon his

129

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

face those lines of mockery and of good-humour which a
nature redolent of sunshine had rendered indelible.
" What think you of it, sir ? " asked Beresteyn im-
patiently, seeing that Diogenes seemed inclined to linger
over long in his contemplation of the picture.
"I think, sir," replied the other, " that the picture
once seen would for ever be imprinted on the memory."
" Ah! it pleases me to hear you say that. I think
too that it does our friend Hals here infinite credit. You
must finish that picture soon, my good Frans. My
father I know is prepared to pay you well for it."
Then he turned once more to Diogenes.
" I'll take my leave now, sir," he said, "and must
thank you for so kindly listening to my proposals. Hals,
I thank you for the hospitality of your house. We meet
again soon I hope."
He took up his bat and almost in spite of himself
he acknowledged Diogenes' parting bow with one equally
courteous. Patron and employ6 stood henceforth on
equal terms.
"An you desire to see me again to-day, sir," he said
before finally taking his leave, " I shall be in the tapperij
of the 'Lame Cow' between the hours of four and five
and entirely at your service."
After that he walked out of the room escorted by Frans
Hals, and Diogenes who had remained alone in the big,
bare studio, stood in front of Jongejuffrouw Beresteyn's
portrait and had another long look at it.
A whimsical smile sat round his lips even as they
apostrophized the image that looked so gravely on him
out of the canvas.
"You poor, young, delicate creature! " he mur-
mured, " what of your imperious little ways now ? your
offers of condescension, your gracious wiping of your
dainty shoes on the commoner herd of humanity ? Your
own brother has thrown you at the mercy of a rogue,
eh ? A rogue whose valour must needs be rewarded by
money and patronage! . . . Will you recognise him
to-night, I wonder, as the rogue he really is ? the rogue
paid to do work that is too dirty for exalted gentlemen's

THE PORTRAIT 13i
hands to touch ? How you will loathe him after to-
night ! "
He drew in his breath with a quaint little s'gh that
had a thought of sadness in it, and turned away from
the picture just as Frans Hals re-entered the room.
" When this picture is finished," he said at once to his
friend, "your name, my dear Hals, will ring throughout
Europe."
" 'Tis your picture I want to finish," said the other
reproachfully, "I have such a fine chance of selling it
the day after to-morrow."
" Why the day after to-morrow ? "
"The Burgomaster, Mynheer van der Meer, comes to
visit my studio. He liked the beginnings of the picture
very much when he saw it, and told me then that he would
come to look at it again and would probably buy it."
"I can be back here in less than a week. You can
finish the picture then. The Burgomaster will wait."
The artist sighed a plaintive, uncomplaining little sigh
and shrugged his shoulders with an air of hopelessness.
"You don't know what these people are," he said,
"they will buy a picture when the fancy seizes them.
A week later they will mayhap not even look at it. Besides
which the Burgomaster goes to Amsterdam next week.
He will visit Rembrandt's studio, and probably buy a
picture there . ."
His speech meandered on, dully and tonelessly, losing
itself finally in incoherent mutterings. Diogenes looked
on him with good-natured contempt.
"And you would lick the boots of such rabble," he
said.
" I have a wife and a growing family," rejoined the
artist, "we must all live."
" I don't see the necessity," quoth Diogenes lightly,
" not at that price in any case. You must live of course,
my dear Hals," he continued, " because you are a genius
and help to fill this ugly grey world with your magnificent
works, but why should your wife and family live at the
expense of your manhood."
Then seeing the look of horror which his tirade had

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

called forth in the face of his friend, he said with more
seriousness:
"Would the price of that picture be of such vital
importance then ? "
"It is not the money so much," rejoined Frans Hals,
"though God knows that that too would be acceptable,
but 'tis the glory of it to which I had aspired. This
picture to hang in the Stanhuis, mayhap in the reception
hall, has been my dream these weeks past; not only
would all the wealthy burghers of Haarlem see it there,
but all the civic dignitaries of other cities when they come
here on a visit, aye ! and the foreign ambassadors too,
who often come to Haarlem. My fame then would
indeed ring throughout Europe . .. It is very hard
that you should disappoint me so."
While he went on mumbling in his feeble querulous
voice, Diogenes had been pacing up and down the floor
apparently struggling with insistent thoughts. There was
quite a suspicion of a frown upon his smooth brow,
but he said nothing until his friend had finished speaking.
Then he ceased his restless pacing and placed a hand
upon Hals' shoulder.
"Look here, old friend," he said, "this will never
do. It seems as if I, by leaving you in the lurch to-day,
stood in the way of your advancement and of your fortune.
That of course will never do," he reiterated earnestly.
"You the friend, who, like last night, are always ready
to give me food and shelter when I have been without
a grote in my pocket. You who picked me up ten years
ago a shoeless ragamuffin wandering homeless in the
streets, and gave me a hot supper and a bed, knowing
nothing about me save that I was starving . . . for that
was the beginning of our friendship, was it not, old
Frans ? "
"Of course it was," assented the other, " but that was
long ago. You have more than repaid me since then . . .
when you had the means ... and now there is the
picture . .."
"To repay a debt is not always to be rid of an obliga-
tion. How can I then leave you in the lurch now ? "

f32

"Why cannot you stay and sit for me to-day . . .
The light is fairly good . . ."
"I cannot stay now, dear old friend," said the other
earnestly, " on my honour I would do my duty by you
now if I only could. I have business of the utmost
importance to transact to-day and must see to it forth-
with."
"Then why not to-morrow ? . .. I could work on
the doublet and the lace collar to-day, by putting them
on a dummy model . . . All I want is a good long
sitting from you for the head . . . I could almost finish
the picture to-morrow," he pleaded in his peevish, melan-
choly voice, " and the Burgomaster comes on the next
day."
Diogenes was silent for awhile. Again that puzzled
frown appeared between his brows. To-morrow he
should be leaving Leyden on his way to Rotterdam;
I,ooo guilders would be in his pocket, and 3,000 more
would be waiting for him at the end of his journey . . .
To-morrow! . . .
Frans Hals' keen, restless eyes followed every varying
expression in the face he knew so well.
"Why should you not give up your day to me to-
morrow ? " he murmured peevishly. " You have nothing
to do."
"Why indeed not ?" said the other with a sudden
recrudescence of his usual gaiety. "I can do it, old
compeer ! Dondersteen, but I should be a smeerlap if
I did not. Wait one moment . . . Let me just think.
. . . Yes! T have the way clear in my mind now . . .
I will be here as early as I was to-day."
" By half-past seven o'clock the light is tolerable,"
said the artist.
" By half-past seven then I shall have donned the
doublet, and will not move off that platform unless you
bid me, until the shadows have gathered in, in the wake
of the setting sun. After that," he added with his
accustomed merry laugh, " let Mynheer the Burgomaster
come, your picture shall not hang fire because of me."
" That's brave ! " said Frans Hals more cheerily. " If

THE PORTRAIT

133

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

you will come I can do it. You will see how advanced
that sleeve and collar will be by half-past seven to-
morrow."
His voice had quite a ring in it now; he fussed about
in his studio, re-arranged the picture on the easel, and
put aside the portrait of Jongejuffrouw Beresteyn;
Diogenes watched him with amusement, but the frown
had not quite disappeared from his brow. He had made
two promises to-day, both of which he would have to
fulfil at all costs. Just now it was, in a flash, that the
thought came to him how he could help his friend and
yet keep his word to Beresteyn. A quick plan had
formed itself in his mind for accomplishing this-he
saw in a mental vision the forced run on the ice back
to Haarlem and back again in the wake of the sleigh.
It could be done with much pluck and endurance and a
small modicum of good luck, and already his mind was
made up to it, whatever the cost in fatigue or privations
might be.
But time was pressing now. After a renewed and
most solemn promise he took leave of Frans Hals, who
already was too deeply absorbed in work to take much
notice of his friend. The glorious, self-centred selfishness
of genius was in him. He cared absolutely nothing
for any worry or trouble he might cause to the other
man by his demand for that sitting on the morrow. The
picture mattered-nothing else--and the artist never even
asked his friend if he would suffer inconvenience or
worse by sacrificing his day to it to-morrow.

134

CHAPTER XIII

THE SPANISH WENCH

AN hour later, in the tap-room of the "Lame Cow,"
Diogenes had finished explaining to his brother philoso-
phers the work which he had in hand and for which he
required their help. The explanation had begun with
the words filled with portentous charm:
"There will be 500 guilders for each of you at the
end of our journey."
And they knew from many and varied experiences
of adventures undertaken in amicable trilogy that Dio-
genes would be as good as these words.
For the rest they did not greatly trouble themselves.
There was a lady to be conveyed, with respect and with
safety, out of Haarlem and as far as Rotterdam, and it
was in Rotterdam that the 500 guilders would reward
each man for his obedience to orders, his circumspection
at all times and his valour if necessity arose. From
this hour onwards and throughout the journey friend
Diogenes would provide for everything and see that his
faithful compeers lacked in nothing. Temperance and
sober conduct would be the order paramount, but with
that exception the adventure promised to be as exciting
as it was lucrative.
It was good to hear the guilders jingling in Diogenes'
wallet, and though he was sparing of them in the matter
of heady ale or strong wines, he scattered them liberally
enough 3n smoked sausage, fried livers and the many
other delicacies for which his brother philosophers had a
fancy and for which the kitchen of the " Lame Cow "
was famous.
r35

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

When they had all eaten enough and made merry on
a little good ale and the prospects of the adventure, they
parted on the doorstep of the tavern, Diogenes to attend
to business, the other two to see to the horses and the
sleigh for this night. These were to be in readiness at
the point where the street of the Holy Cross abuts on
the left bank of the Oude Gracht. Three good saddle
horses were wanted-thick-set Flanders mares, rough
shod against the slippery roads; also a covered sledge,
with two equally reliable horses harnessed thereto and a
coachman of sober appearance on the box. Socrates
and Pythagoras were required to scour the city for these,
and to bespeak them for seven o'clock this evening,
Diogenes undertaking to make payment for them in
advance. There were also some warm rugs and wraps
to be bought, for the night would be bitterly cold and
the lady not prepared mayhap with a cloak sufficiently
heavy for a lengthy journey.
All these matters having been agreed upon, Socrates
and Pythagoras started to walk toward the eastern
portion of the city where several posting inns were situated
and where they hoped to find the conveyance which they
required as well as the necessary horses. Diogenes on
the other hand turned his steps deliberately southwards.
After a few minutes brisk walking he found himself at
the further end of the Kleine Hout Straat, there where
stood the ricketty, half-mildewed and wholly insalubrious
house which had previously sheltered him. The door
as usual was loose upon its hinges and swinging back-
wards and forwards in the draught with a squeaking,
melancholy sound. Diogenes pushed it further open and
went in. The same fetid smells, peculiar to all the
houses in this quarter of the city, greeted his nostrils,
and from the depths of the dark and dank passage a
dog gave a perfunctory bark.
Without hesitation Diogenes now began the ascent
of the creaking stairs, his heavy footfall echoing through
the silent house. On one or two of the landings as he
mounted he was greeted by pale, inquiring faces and
round inquisitive eyes, whilst ghostlike forms emerged

136

THE SPANISH WENCH 137
out of hidden burrows for a moment to look on the nrisy
visitor and then equally furtively vanished again.
On the topmost landing he halted; here a small sky-
light in the roof afforded a modicum of light. Two
doors confronted him, he went up to one of them and
knocked on it loudly with his fist.
Then he waited-not with great patience but with his
ear glued to the door listening to the sounds within.
It almost seemed as if the room beyond was the abode
of the dead, for not a sound reached the listener's ear. He
knocked again, more loudly this time and more insistently.
Still no response. At the other door on the opposite
side of the landing a female figure appeared wrapped
in a worsted rug, and a head half hidden by a linen coif
was thrust forward out of the darkness behind it.
" They's won't answer you," said the apparition curtly.
"They are strangers .., only came last night, but
all this morning when the landlord or his wife knocked
at the door, they simply would not open it."
" But I am a friend," said Diogenes, "the best I
fancy that these poor folk have."
" You used to lodge here until last night."
" Why yes. The lodgings are mine, I gave them up
to these poor people who had nowhere else to go."
" They won't answer you," reiterated the 'female
apparition dolefully and once more retired into its
burrow.
The situation was becoming irritating. Diogenes put
his mouth against the keyhole and shouted " What ho,
there ! Open !" as lustily as his powerful lungs would
allow.
" Dondersteen! " he exclaimed, when even then he
received no response.
But strange to relate no sooner was this expletive out
of his mouth, than there came a cry like that of a fright-
ened small animal, followed by a patter of naked feet
upon a naked floor; the next moment the door was
thrown invitingly open, and Diogenes was able to step
across its threshold.
" Dondersteen !" he ejaculated again, " hadst thou

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

not opened, wench, I would within the next few seconds
have battered in the door."
The woman stood looking at him with great, dark
eyes in which joy, surprise and fear struggled for mastery.
Her hair though still unruly was coiled around her head,
her shift and kirtle were neatly fastened, but her legs
and feet were bare and above the shift her neck and
shoulders appeared colourless and attenuated. Eyes and
hair were dark, and her skin had the olive tint of the
south, but her lips at this moment looked bloodless, and
there was the look of starvation in her wan face.
Diogenes walked past her into the inner room. The
old man was lying on the bed. and on the coverlet close
to him a much fingered prayer-book lay open. The
woman slipped noiselessly past the visitor and quietly
put the prayer-book away.
"You have come to tell us that we must go," she
said in an undertone as she suddenly faced the newcomer.
" Indeed, that was not my purpose," he replied gaily.
" I have come on the contrary to bring you good news,
and it was foolish of you to keep me dangling on your
doorstep for so long."
"The landlord hates us," she murmured, "because
you forced him last night to take us in. He came thunder-
ing at the door early this morning, and threatened to
eject us as vagabonds or to denounce us as Spanish spies.
I would not open the door to him, and he shouted his
threats at us through the keyhole. When you knocked
just now I was frightened. I thought that he had
come back."
Her voice was low and though she spoke Dutch fluently
her throat had in it the gutteral notes of her native
land. A touch of the gipsy there must be in her, thought
Diogenes as he looked with suddenly aroused interest
on the woman before him, her dark skin, the long, supple
limbs, the velvety eyes with their submissive, terrified
look.
With embarrassed movements she offered the only
chair in the room to her visitor, then cast shy, timorous
glances on him as he refused to sit, preferring to lean

138

THE SPANISH WENCH 139
his tall figure against the white-washed wall. She thought
that never in her life had she seen any man so splendid
and her look of bold admiration told him so without
disguise.
"Well! " he said with his quaint smile, "I am not
the landlord, nor yet an enemy. Art thou convinced
of that ? "
" Yes, I am ! " she said with a little sigh, as she turned
away from him in order to attend to the old man, who
was moaning peevishly in bed.
"He has lost the use of speech," she said to Diogenes
as soon as she had seen to the old man's wants, "and
to-day he is so crippled that he can scarcely move. We
ought never to have come to this horrible cold part of
the country," she added with a sudden tone of fierce
resentment. "I think that we shall both die of misery
before we leave it again."
" Why did you come here then at all ? " asked Diogenes.
"We wandered hither, because we heard that the
people in this city were so rich. I was born not far
from here, and so was my mother, but my father is
a native of Spain. In France, in Brabant where we
wandered before, we always earned a good living by
begging at the church doors, but here the people are
so hard.. ."
" You will have to wander back to Spain."
" Yes," she said sullenly, " as soon as I have earned a
little money and father is able to move, neither of which
seems very likely just now."
"Ah!" he said cheerily, "that is, wench, where I
proclaim thee wrong! I do not know when thy father
will be able to move, but I can tell thee at this very
moment where and how thou canst earn fifty guilders
which should take thee quite a long way toward Spain."
She looked up at him and once more that glance of
joy and of surprise crept into her eyes which had seemed
so full of vindictive anger just now. With the surprise
and the joy there also mingled the admiration, the sense
of well-being in his presence.
Already he had filled the bare, squalid room with his

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

breezy personality, with his swagger and with his laugh-
ter; his ringing voice had roused the echoes that slept
in the mouldy rafters and frightened the mice that dwelt
in the wainscotting and now scampered hurriedly away.
" I," she said with obvious incredulity, "I to earn
fifty guilders ! I have not earned so much in any six
months of my life."
" Perhaps not," he rejoined gaily. " But I can promise
thee this ; that the fifty guilders will be thine this evening,
if thou wilt render me a simple service."
" Render thee a service," she said, and her low voice
sounded quite cooing and gentle, " I would thank God on
my knees if I could render thee a service. Didst thou
not save my life . . ."
" By thy leave we'll not talk of that matter. 'Tis
over and done with now. The service I would ask of
thee, though 'tis simple enough to perform, I could not
ask of anyone else but thee. An thou'lt do it, I shall
be more than repaid."
" Name it, sir," she said simply.
"Dost know the bank of the Oude Gracht ? " he
asked.
" Well," she replied.
" Dost know the Oudenvrouwenhuis situated there ? "
" Yes ! "
" Next to its outer walls there is a narrow passage
which leads to the Remonstrant Chapel of St. Pieter."
"There is, sir. I know it."
"This evening at seven o'clock then thou'lt take thy
stand at the corner of this passage facing the Oude
Gracht; and there thou wilt remain to ask alms from
the passers by. Thou'rt not afraid ? "
" Afraid of what, sir ? "
"The spot is lonely, the passage leads nowhere except
to the chapel, which has been deserted these past five
years."
" I am not afraid."
"That's brave ! After evensong is over at the cathe-
dral, one or two people will no doubt come thy way.
Thou'lt beg them for alms in the usual way. But anon

z4o

THE SPANISH WENCH

a lady will come accompanied by a duenna and preceded
by two serving men carrying lanthorns. From her thou
must ask insistently, and tell her as sad a tale of woe
as thou canst think on, keeping well within the narrow
passage and inducing her to follow thee."
" How shall I know the lady ? There may be others
who go past that way, and who might also be escorted
by a woman and two serving men."
"The men wear green and purple livery, with peaked
green caps trimmed with fur. Thou canst not mistake
them even in the dark, for the light of the lanthorns
which they carry will be upon them. But I will be in
the passage close behind thee. When I see her coming
I will warn thee."
"I understand," she said, nodding her head slowly
once or twice as if she were brooding over what she
thought. " But surely that is not all that I can do for
thee."
" Indeed it is, and therefore none too difficult. Having
drawn the lady into the shadow by thy talk, contrive
to speak to her, telling her of thy troubles. If anything
occurs after that to surprise or mayhap frighten thee,
pay no heed to it, but take at once to thy heels and run
straight home here, without looking to right or left. No
one will molest thee, I give thee my word."
" I understand ! " she reiterated once more.
" And wilt thou do as I ask ? "
" Of course. My life is thine ; thou didst save it twice.
Thou hast but to command and I will obey."
" We'll call it that," he said lightly, " since it seems
to please thee. To-night then at seven o'clock I too will
be on the spot to place the fifty guilders in thy hand."
" Fifty guilders ! " she exclaimed almost with ecstacy,
and pressed her hands to her breast. " My father and I
need not starve or be homeless the whole of this winter."
" Thou'It make tracks for Spain very soon," he rejoined
carelessly, for he had accomplished his business and was
making ready to go.
She threw him a strange look, half defiant yet almost
reproachful.

141

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

" Perhaps ! " she said curtly.
He took leave of her in his usual pleasant, airy manner,
smiling at her earnestness and at her looks that reminded
him of a starving dog which he had once picked up in
the streets of Prague and kept and fed for a time, until
he found it a permanent home. When he gave the dog
away to some kindly people who promised to be kind to
it, it threw him, at parting, just such a look as dwelt
in the dark depths of this girl's eyes now.
The old cripple on the bed had fallen into a torpor-like
sleep. Diogenes cast a compassionate glance on him.
"Thou canst take him to better quarters in a day or
two," he said, " and mayhap give him some good food . . .
Dondersteen ! " he exclaimed suddenly, "what art
doing, girl ? "
She had stooped and kissed his hand. He drew it
away almost roughly, but at the timid look of humble
apology which she raised to him, he said gently :
" By St. Bavon thou'rt a funny child ! Well? what is
it now ? " he asked, for she stood hesitating before him,
with a question obviously hovering on her lips.
" I dare not," she murmured.
" Art afraid of me then ? "
" A little."
" Yet there is something thou desirest to ask ? "
" Yes."
" What is it ? Quickly now, for I must be going."
She waited for a moment or two trying to gain courage,
whilst he watched her, greatly amused.
" What is it ? " he reiterated more impatiently.
Then a whispered murmur escaped her lips.
"The lady ? "
" Yes. What of her ? "
" Thou dost love her ? " she stammered, " and wilt
abduct her to-night because of thy love for her ? "
For a second or two he looked on her in blank amaze-
ment, marvelling if he had entrusted this vital business
to a semi-imbecile. Then seeing that indeed she appeared
in deadly earnest, and that her great, inquiring but
perfectly lucid eyes were fixed upon him with mute

142

THE SPANISH WENCH 143
insistence, he threw back his head and laughed till the
very rafters of the low room shook with the echo of his
merriment.
"Dondersteen !" he said as soon as he felt that he
could speak again, " but thou truly art a strange wench.
Whatever did put that idea into thy head ? "
" Thou dost propose to abduct her, I know that," she
said more firmly. "I am no fool, and I understand I
am to be the decoy. The dark passage, the lonely spot,
thy presence there ... and then the occurrence, as
thou saidst, that might surprise or frighten me . . . I
am no fool," she repeated sullenly, " I understand."
" Apparently," he retorted dryly.
" Thou dost love her ? " she insisted.
" What is it to thee ? "
" No matter; only tell me this, dost thou love her ? "
" If I said 'yes'" he asked with his whimsical smile,
" wouldst refuse to help me ? "
" Oh no ! "
" And if I said' no' ? "
" I should be glad," she said simply.
" Then we'll say ' no!' " he concluded lightly, " for I
would like to see thee glad."
And he had his wish, for quite a joyous smile lit up
her small, pinched face. She tripped quite briskly to the
door and held it open for him.
" If thou desirest to speak with me again," she said,
as he finally took his leave, " give four raps on the door
at marked intervals. I would fly to open it then."
He thanked her and went down stairs, humming a
lively tune and never once turning to look on her again.
And yet she was leaning over the ricketty banisters
watching his slowly descending figure, until it disappeared
in the gloom.

CHAPTER XIV

AFTER EVENSONG

JONGEJUFFROUW BERESTEYN had spent many hours in
church this New Year's Day, 1624. In spite of the
inclemency of the weather she had attended Morning
Prayer and Holy Communion and now she was back
again for Evensong.
The cathedral was not very full for it. Most people
were making merry at home to celebrate the festival; so
Gilda had a corner of the sacred building all to herself,
where she could think matters over silently and with
the help of prayer. The secret of which she had gained
knowledge was weighing heavily on her soul; and heart-
rending doubts had assailed her all night and throughout
the day.
How could she know what was the right thing to do ?-
to allow a crime of which she had fore-knowledge to be
committed without raising a finger to prevent it ? or to
betray her own brother and his friends-a betrayal which
would inevitably lead them to the scaffold ?
Her father was of course her great refuge, and to-night
through Evensong she prayed to God to guide her, as to
whether she should tell everything to her father or not.
She had warned Nicolaes that she might do so, and yet
her very soul shrank from the act which to many would
seem so like betrayal. Cornelius Beresteyn was a man
of rigid principles and unyielding integrity. What he
might do with the knowledge of the conspiracy in which
his own son was taking a leading part, no one-not even
his daughter-could foresee. In no case would she act
144

AFTER EVENSONG

hurriedly. She hoped against all hope that mayhap
Nicolaes would see his own treachery in its true light
and turn from it before it was too late, or that God would
give her some unmistakable sign of what He willed her
to do.
Perplexed and wretched she stayed long on her knees
and left the church after every one else. The night was
dark and though the snow had left off falling momentarily,
the usual frosty mist hung over the city. Jongejuffrouw
Beresteyn wrapped her fur-lined cloak closely round her
shoulders and started on her homeward walk, with Maria
by her side and Jakob and Piet on in front carrying
their lanthorns.
Her way took her firstly across the Groote Markt then
down the Hout Straat until she reached the Oude Gracht.
Here her two serving men kept quite close in front of
her for the embankment was lonely and a well-known
resort for evil doers who found refuge in the several dark
passages that run at right angles from the canal and have
no outlet at their further end.
Jongejuffrouw Beresteyn followed rapidly in the wake
of her lanthorn bearers and keeping Maria-who was
always timorous on dark nights and in lonely places--
quite close to her elbow. Every footstep of the way was
familiar to her. Now the ground was frozen hard and
the covering of snow crisp beneath her feet as she walked,
but in the autumn and the spring the mud here was ankle-
deep, save on one or two rare spots in front of the better
houses or public buildings where a few stones formed
a piece of dry pavement. Such a spot was the front of
the Oudenvrouwenhuis with its wide oaken gateway and
high brick walls. The unmade road here was always
swept neatly and tidily; during the rainy seasons the
mud was washed carefully away and in the winter it
was kept free from snow.
Beyond it was a narrow passage which led to the
Chapel of St. Pieter, now disused since the Remonstrants
had fallen into such bad odour after the death of Olden
Barneveld and the treachery of his sons. The corner
of this passage was a favourite haunt for beggars, but only
K

145

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

for the humbler ones-since there is a hierarchy even
amongst beggars, and the more prosperous ones, those
known to the town guard and the night-watchmen,
flocked around the church porches. In this spot, where
there were but a few passers-by, only those poor wretches
came who mayhap had something to hide from the
watchful eyes of the guardians of this city, those who had
been in prison or had deserted from the army, or were
known to be rogues and thieves.
Gilda Beresteyn, who had a soft heart, always kept a
few kreutzers in the palm of her hand ready to give to
any of these poor outcasts who happened to beg for alms
along the embankment, but she never liked to stop here
in order to give those other alms, which she knew were
oft more acceptable than money-the alms of kindly
words.
To-night, however, she herself felt miserable and lonely
and the voice that came to her out of the darkness of
the narrow passage which leads to the Chapel of St.
Pieter was peculiarly plaintive and sweet.
"For the love of Christ, gentle lady," murmured the
voice softly.
Gilda stopped, ready with the kreutzers in her hand.
But it was very dark just here and the snow appeared
too deep to traverse; she could not see the melancholy
speaker, though she knew of course that it was a woman.
" Bring the lanthorn a little nearer, Jakob," she said.
" Do not stop, mejuffrouw, to parley with any of these
scamps," said Maria as she clung fearsomely to her
mistress's cloak.
"For the love of Christ, gentle lady! " sighed the
pitiable voice out of the darkness again.
Jakob brought the lanthorn nearer.
Some half a dozen steps up the passage a pathetic
little figure appeared to view, the figure of a woman-
a mere girl-with ragged shift and bare legs half buried
in the depths of the snow.
Gilda without hesitation went up to her, money in
hand, her own feet sinking in ankle deep into the cold,
white carpet below. The girl retreated as the kind lady

146

AFTER EVENSONG

advanced, apparently scared by the two men who had
paused one at each corner of the passage holding their
lanthorns well above their heads.
"Don't be frightened, girl," said Gilda Beresteyn
gently, "' here's a little money. You look so cold, poor
child ! "
The next moment a double cry behind her caused her
to turn in a trice ; she had only just time to take in the
terrifying fact that Piet and Jakob had dropped their
lanthorns to the ground even as thick dark cloths were
thrown over their heads-before she found herself firmly
seized round the waist by a powerful arm whilst some
kind of scarf was wound quickly round her face.
She had not the time to scream, the enveloping scarf
smothered her cry even as it formed in her throat. The
last thing of which she was clearly conscious was of a
voice-which strangely enough sounded familiar-say-
ing hurriedly
"Here, take thy money, girl, and run home now as
fast as thy feet will take thee."
After that, though she was never totally unconscious,
she was only dimly aware of what happened to her.
She certainly felt herself lifted off the ground and carried
for some considerable distance. What seemed to her a
long, long time afterwards she became aware that she was
lying on her back and that there was a smell of sweet
hay and fresh straw around her. Close to her ear there
was the sound of a woman moaning. The scarf still
covered her face, but it had been loosened so that she could
breathe, and presently when she opened her eyes, she
found that the scarf only covered her mouth.
As she lay on her back she could see nothing above her.
She was not cold for the straw around her formed a
warm bed, and her cloak had been carefully arranged so
as to cover her completely, whilst her feet were wrapped
up snugly in a rug.
It was only when complete consciousness returned to
her that she realized that she was lying in an object
that moved: she became conscious of the jingling of
harness and of occasional unpleasant jolting, whilst the

147

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

darkness overhead was obviously caused by the roof of a
vehicle.
She tried to raise herself on her elbow, but she dis-
covered that loose, though quite efficient bonds held her
pinioned down; her arms, however, were free and she
put out her hand in the direction whence came the
muffled sound of a woman moaning.
"Lord ! God Almighty! Lord in Heaven !" and
many more appeals of a like character escaped the lips
of Gilda's companion in misfortune.
" Maria ! Is it thou ? " said Gilda in a whisper. Her
hand went groping in the dark until it encountered
firstly a cloak, then an arm and finally a head apparently
also enveloped in a cloth.
" Lord God Almighty!" sighed the other woman
feebly through the drapery. " Is it mejuffrouw ? "
"Yes, Maria, it is I !" whispered Gilda, "whither
are they taking us, thinkest thou ? "
"To some lonely spot where they can conveniently
murder us ! " murmured Maria with a moan of anguish.
" But what became of Piet and Jakob ? "
" Murdered probably. The cowards could not defend
us."
Gilda strained her ears to listen. She hoped by certain
sounds to make out at least in which direction she was
being carried away. Above the rattle and jingle of the
harness she could hear at times the measured tramp of
horses trotting in the rear, and she thought at one time
that the sleigh went over the wooden bridge on the
Spaarne and then under the echoing portals of one of
the city gates.
Her head after awhile began to ache terribly and her
eyes felt as if they were seared with coal. Of course
she lost all count of time : it seemed an eternity since she
had spoken to the girl in the dark passage which leads
to the chapel of St. Pieter.
Maria who lay beside her moaned incessantly for awhile
like a fretful child, but presently she became silent.
Perhaps she had gone to sleep. The night air which
found its way through the chinks of the hood came more

148

AFTER EVENSONG 149
keen and biting against Gilda's face. It cooled her eyes
and eased the throbbing of her head. She felt very tired
and as if her body had been bruised all over.
The noises around her became more monotonous, the
tramping of the horses in the rear of the sleigh sounded
muffled and subdued. Drowsiness overcame Gilda
Beresteyn and she fell into a troubled, half-waking sleep.

CHAPTER XV

THE HALT AT BENNEBROCK

FOR a long time she had been half awake, ever since the
vehicle had stopped, which must have been ages and
ages ago. She had lain in a kind of torpor, various
sounds coming to her ear as through the veil of dreams:
there was Maria snoring contentedly close by, and the
horses champing their bits and pawing the hard-frozen
ground, also there was the murmur of voices, subdued
and muffled-but she could not distinguish words.
Not for a long time at any rate--an interminably long
time !
Her body and limbs felt quite numb, pleasantly warm
under the rugs and cloaks, only her face rejoiced in the
cold blast that played around it and kept her forehead
and eyes cool.
Once it seemed to her as if out of the darkness more
than one pair of eyes were looking down on her, and she
had the sense as of a warm rapid breath that mingled
with the pure frosty air. After which some one murmured :
" She is still unconscious."
" I think not," was the whispered reply.
She lay quite still, in case those eyes came to look on
her again. The murmuring voices sounded quite close
to the sleigh now, and soon she found that by holding
her breath, and straining her every listening faculty she
could detach the words that struck her ear from all the
other sounds around her.
Two men, she thought, were speaking, but their voices
were never once raised above a whisper.
150

THE HALT AT BENNEBROCK

"You are satisfied ? " she heard one of these saying
quite distinctly.
" Entirely ! " was the response.
" The letter to Ben Isaje ? "
" I am not like to lose it."
" Hush ! I heard a sound from under the hood."
" 'Tis only the old woman snoring."
"I wish you could have found a more comfortable
sledge."
" There was none to be had in Haarlem to-day. But
we'll easily get one in Leyden."
In Leyden! Gilda's numbed body quivered with
horror. She was being taken to Leyden and further on
still by sleigh ! Her thoughts at present were still chaotic
but gradually she was sorting them out, one or two
becoming more clear, more insistent than the rest.
"I would like the jongejuffrouw to have something
to eat and drink," came once more in whispers from out
the darkness. " I fear that she will be faint ! "
" No ! no !" came the prompt, peremptory reply,
" it would be madness to let her realize so soon where
she is. She knows this place well."
A halt on the way to Leyden ! and thence a further
journey by sledge! Gilda's thoughts were distinctly
less chaotic already. She was beginning to marshal
them up in her mind, together with her recollections of
the events of the past twenty-four hours. The darkness
around her, which was intense, and the numbness of her
body all helped her to concentrate her faculties on these
recollections first and on the obvious conclusions based
upon her position at the present moment.
She was being silenced effectually because of the
knowledge which she had gained in the cathedral last
night. The Lord of Stoutenburg, frightened for his plans,
was causing her to be put out of his way. Never for a
moment did she suspect her own brother in this. It
was that conscienceless, ambitious, treacherous Stouten-
burg ! at most her brother was blindly acquiescent in
this infamy.
Gilda was not afraid. Not even when this conviction

151

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

became fully matured in her mind. She was not afraid
for herself, although for one brief moment the thought
did cross her mind that mayhap she had only been taken
out of Haarlem in order that her death might be more
secretly encompassed.
But she was cast in a firmer mould than most women
of her rank and wealth would be. She came of a race
that had faced misery, death and torture for over a
century for the sake of its own independence of life and
of faith, and was ready to continue the struggle for another
hundred years if need be for the same ideals, and making
the same sacrifices in order to attain them. Gilda Beresteyn
gave but little thought to her own safety. Life to her,
if Stoutenburg's dastardly conspiracy against the Stadt-
holder was successful and involved her own brother, would
be of little value to her. Nicolaes' act of treachery would
break her father's heart; what matter if she herself
lived to witness all that misery or not.
No ! it was her helplessness at this moment that caused
her the most excruciating soul-agony. She had been
trapped and was being cast aside like a noxious beast,
that is in the way of men. Like a child that is unruly
and has listened at the keyhole of the door, she was being
punished and rendered harmless.
Indeed she had no fear for her safety; the few words
which she had heard, the presence of Maria, all tended
to point out that there would be no direct attempt against
her life. It was only of that awful crime that she thought,
that crime which she had so fondly hoped that she might
yet frustrate: it was of the Stadtholder's safety that she
thought and of her brother's sin.
She also thought of her poor father who, ignorant of
the events which had brought about this infamous
abduction, would be near killing himself with sorrow
at the mysterious disappearance of his only daughter.
Piet and Jakob would tell how they had been set on in
the dark-footpads would be suspected, the country-
side where they usually have their haunts would be
scoured for them, but the high road leading to Leyden
would never mayhap be watched, and certainly a sleigh

152

THE HALT AT BENNEBROCK

under escort would never draw the attention of the
guardians of the peace.
While these thoughts whirled wildly in her brain it
seemed that preparations had been and were being made
for departure. She heard some whispered words again:
" Where will you put up at Leyden ? "
"At the 'White Goat.' I know the landlord well."
" Will he be awake at so late an hour ? "
"I will ride ahead and rouse his household. They
shall be prepared for our coming."
" But. . ."
" You seem to forget, sir," came in somewhat louder
tones, "that all the arrangements for this journey were
to be left entirely to my discretion."
For the moment Gilda could catch no further words
distinctly : whether a quarrel had ensued or not she could
not conjecture, but obviously the two speakers had gone
some little distance away from the sledge. All that she
could hear was-after a brief while of silence-a quaint
muffled laugh which though it scarce was distinguishable
from the murmur of the wind, so soft was it, nevertheless
betrayed to her keenly sensitive ear an undercurrent of
good-humoured irony.
Again there seemed something familiar to her in the
sound.
After this there was renewed tramping of heavy feet
on the snow-covered ground, the clang of bits and chains,
the creaking of trace, the subdued call of encouragement
to horses :
" Forward ! " came a cheery voice from the rear.
Once more they were on the move; on the way to
Leyden--distant six leagues from her home. Gilda could
have cried out now in her misery. She pictured her
father-broken-hearted all through the night, sending
messengers hither and thither to the various gates of
the city, unable no doubt to get satisfactory information
at this late hour : she pictured Nicolaes feigning ignorance
of the whole thing, making pretence of anxiety and grief.
Torturing thoughts kept her awake, though her body
was racked with fatigue. The night was bitterly cold,

153

154 THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
and the wind, now that they had reached open country,
cut at times across her face like a knife.
The sledge glided along with great swiftness now, over
the smooth, thick carpet of snow that covered the long,
straight road. Gilda knew that the sea was not far off:
but she also knew that every moment now she was being
dragged further and further away from the chance of
averting from her father and from her house the black
catastrophe of disgrace which threatened them.

CHAPTER XVI

LEYDEN

IT seemed that from some church tower far away a clock
struck the hour of midnight when the sledge at last came
to a halt.
Worn out with nerve-racking thoughts, as well as with
the cruel monotony of the past four hours, Gilda felt
her soul and body numb and lifeless as a stone. There
was much running and shouting round the vehicle, of
horses' hoofs resounding against rough cobble-stones,
of calls for ostler and landlord.
Then for awhile comparative quietude. Maria still
snored unperturbed, and Gilda, wide-eyed and with
beating heart, awaited further events. Firstly the hood
of the sledge in which she lay was lifted off: she could
hear the ropes and straps being undone, the tramp of
feet all round her and an occasional volley of impatient
oaths. Then out of the darkness a pleasant voice called
her somewhat peremptorily by name.
" Mejuffrouw Beresteyn ! "
She did not reply, but lay quite still, with wide-open
eyes like a bird that has been tracked and knows that it
is watched. Maria uttered a loud groan and tried to roll
over on her side.
" Where have those murderers taken us to now ? " she
muttered through the veil that still enveloped her mouth.
The pleasant voice close to Gilda's ear, now called out
more loudly :
" Here, Pythagoras, Socrates ! lift the mevrouw out of
the sleigh and carry her up to the room which the landlord
hath prepared for the ladies."
155

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

Maria immediately gave vent to violent shrieks of
protest.
"How dare ye touch me ! " she screamed at the top
of her voice, " ye murdering devils dare but lay a finger
on a respectable woman and God will punish you with
pestilence and dislocation and . . ."
It must be presumed that neither Pythagoras nor
Socrates were greatly upset by the mevrouw's curses, for
Gilda, who was on the alert for every movement and for
every sound, was well aware that Maria's highly respect-
able person was presently seized by firm hands, that the
shawl round her face was pressed more tightly against
her mouth-for her screams sounded more muffled-and
that despite her struggles, her cries and her kicking she
was lifted bodily out of the sledge.
When these disquieting sounds had died down the
same pleasant voice broke in once again on Gilda's obstin-
ate silence.
"Mejuffrouw Beresteyn !" it reiterated once again.
" Dondersteen ! but 'tis no use lying mum there, and
pretending to be asleep," it continued after awhile, since
Gilda certainly had taken no notice of the call, " that old
woman made enough noise to wake the dead."
Still not a sound from Gilda, who-more like a cowering
bird than ever-was trying with widely-dilated eyes to
pierce the darkness around her, in order to see something
of the enemy. She saw the outline of a plumed hat like
a patch of ink against the sky above, and also a pair of
very broad shoulders that were stooping toward the floor
of the sledge.
" Hey ! " shouted the enemy with imperturbable cheer-
fulness, " leave that door wide open, I'll carry the jonge-
juffrouw in myself. She seems to be unconscious."
The words roused Gilda out of her attitude of rigid
silence,-the words which she looked on as an awful
threat, and also the sensation that the loose bonds which
had pinioned her down to the vehicle were being undone.
"I am not unconscious," she said aloud and quite
calmly, " and was quite aware just now that you laid
rough hands on a helpless woman. Since I am equally

156

helpless and in your power I pray you to command what
I must do."
" Come! that's brave! I knew that you could not
be asleep," rejoined the enemy with inveterate good-
humour, " but for the moment, mejuffrouw, I must ask
you to descend from this sleigh. It has been a vastly
uncomfortable vehicle for you to travel in, I fear me, but
it was the best that we could get in Haarlem on New Year's
Day. An you will deign to enter this humble hostelry
you will find the mevrouw there, a moderately good supper
and something resembling a bed, all of which I am thinking
will be highly acceptable to you."
While the enemy spoke Gilda had a few seconds in
which to reflect. Above all things she was a woman of
sense and one who valued her own dignity; she knew
quite well that the making of a scene outside an inn in a
strange town and at this hour of the night could but result
in a loss of that dignity which she so highly prized, seeing
that she was entirely at the mercy of men who were not
likely to yield either to her protests or to her appeals.
Therefore, when she felt that she was free to move,
she made every effort to raise herself; unfortunately
these long hours of weary motionless lying on her back,
had made her limbs so numb that they refused her service.
She made one or two brave attempts to hide her helpless-
ness, but when she wanted to draw up her knees, she
nearly cried with the pain of trying to move them out of
their cramped position.
" It were wiser, methinks," quoth the enemy with a
slight tone of mockery in his cheerful voice, " it were
wiser to accept the help of my arms. They are strong,
firm and not cramped. Try them, mejuffrouw, you will
have no cause to regret it."
Quite involuntarily-for of a truth she shrank from the
mere touch of this rascal who obviously was in the pay of
Stoutenburg and doing the latter's infamous work for
him-quite involuntarily then, she placed her hand upon
the arm which he had put out as a prop for her.
It was as firm as a rock. Leaning on it somewhat
heavily she was able to struggle to her knees. This made

LEYDEN

157

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

her venturesome. She tried to stand up; but fatigue,
the want of food, the excitement and anxiety which she
had endured, combined with the fact that she had been
in a recumbent position for many hours, caused her to
turn desperately giddy. She swayed like a young sapling
under the wind, and would have fallen but that the same
strong arm firm as a rock was there to receive her ere she
fell.
I suppose that dizziness deprived her of her full senses,
else she would never have allowed that knave to lift her
out of the sledge and then to carry her into a building, and
up some narrow and very steep stairs. But this Diogenes
did do, with but scant ceremony; he thought her protests
foolish, and her attempts at lofty disdain pitiable. She
was after all but a poor, helpless scrap of humanity, so
slight and frail that as he carried her into the house, there
was grave danger of his crushing her into nothingness as
she lay in his arms.
Despite her pride and her aloofness he found it in his
heart to pity her just now. Had she been fully conscious
she would have hated to see herself pillowed thus against
the doublet of so contemptible a knave ; and here she was
absolutely handed over body and soul to a nameless
stranger, who in her sight, was probably no better than a
menial-and this by the cynical act of one who next to
her father was her most natural protector.
Yes, indeed he did pity her, for she seemed to him more
than ever like that poor little song-bird whom a lout had
tortured for his own pleasure by plucking out its feathers
one by one. It seemed monstrous that so delicate a
creature should be the victim of men's intrigues and
passions. Why ! even her breath had the subtle scent
of tulips as it fanned his cheeks and nostrils when he
stooped in order to look on her.
In the meanwhile he had been as good as his word.
He had pushed on to Leyden in advance of the cortege, had
roused the landlord of this hostelry and the serving wenches,
and scattered -money so freely that despite the lateness
of the hour a large square room-the best in the house,
and scrupulously clean as to the red-tiled floor and

158

walnut furniture-was at once put at the disposal of the
ladies of so noble a travelling company.
The maids were sent flying hither and thither, one into
the kitchen to make ready some hot supper, the other
to the linen press to find the finest set of bed linen all
sweetly laid by in rosemary.
Diogenes, still carrying Gilda, pushed the heavy panelled
door open with his foot, and without looking either to
right or left of him made straight for the huge open hearth,
wherein already logs of pinewood had been set ablaze,
and beside which stood an armchair, covered with Utrecht
velvet.
Into its inviting and capacious depths he deposited
his inanimate burden, and only then did he become
aware of two pairs of eyes, which were fixed upon him with
very different expression. A buxom wench in ample
wide kirtle of striped duffle had been busy when he
entered in spreading clean linen sheets upon the narrow
little bed built in the panelling of the room. From
under her quaint winged cap of starched lace a pair of
very round eyes, blue as the Ryn, peeped in naive un-
disguised admiration on the intruder, whilst from beneath
her disordered coif Maria threw glances of deadly fury upon
him.
Could looks but kill, Maria certes would have annihilated
the low rascal who had dared to lay hands upon the noble
jongejuffrouw. But our friend Diogenes was not a man
to be perturbed either by admiring or condemning looks.
He picked up a footstool from under the table and put it
under the jongejuffrouw's feet; then he looked about
him for a pillow, and with scant ceremony took one
straight out of the hands of the serving wench who was
just shaking it up ready for the bed. His obvious inten-
tion was to place it behind the jongejuffrouw's head,
but at this act of unforgiveable presumption Maria's
wrath cast aside all restraint. Like a veritable fury she
strode up to the insolent rascal, and snatched the pillow
from him, throwing on him such a look of angry con-
tempt as should have sent him grovelling on his knees.
" Keep thy blood cool, mevrouw," he said with the best

LEYDEN

159

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

of humour, " thy looks have already made a weak-kneed
coward of me."
With the dignity of an offended turkey hen, Maria
arranged the pillow herself under her mistress's head,
having previously shaken it and carefully dusted off the
blemish caused upon its surface by contact with an unclean
hand. As for the footstool, she would not even allow it
to remain there where that same unclean hand had
placed it; she kicked it aside with her foot and drew up
her small, round stature in a comprehensive gesture of
outraged pride.
Diogenes made her a low bow, sweeping the floor with
his plumed hat. The serving wench had much ado to
keep a serious countenance, so comical did the mevrouw
look in her wrath, and so mirth-provoking the gentleman
with his graceful airs and unruffled temper. Anon
laughter tickled her so that she had to run quickly out
of the room, in order to indulge in a fit of uncontrolled
mirth, away from the reproving glances of mevrouw.
It was the pleasant sound of that merry laughter out-
side the door that caused the jongejuffrouw to come to
herself and to open wide, wondering eyes. She looked
around her, vaguely puzzled, taking in the details of the
cosy room, the crackling fire, the polished table, the
inviting bed that exhaled an odour of dried rosemary.
Then her glance fell on Diogenes, who was standing
hat in hand in the centre of the room, with the light from
the blazing logs playing upon his smiling face, and the
immaculate whiteness of his collar.
She frowned. And he who stood there--carelessly
expectant-could not help wondering whether with that
swift contemptuous glance which she threw on him she
had already recognized him.
" Mejuffrouw," he said, thus checking with a loud word
the angry exclamation which hovered on her lips, " If
everything here is not entirely in accordance with your
desires, I pray you but to command and it shall be remedied
if human agency can but contrive to do so. As for me,
I am entirely at your service-your major domo, your
servant, your outrider, anything you like to name me.

160o

LEYDEN 161
Send but for your servant if you have need of aught;
supper will be brought up to you immediately, and in the
meanwhile I beg leave to free you from my unwelcome
company."
Already there was a goodly clatter of platters, and of
crockery outside, and as the wench re-entered anon
bearing a huge tray on which were set out several tooth-
some things, Diogenes contrived to make his exit without
encountering further fusillades of angry glances.
He joined his friends in the tap-room downstairs, and
as he was young, vigorous and hungry he set to with them
and ate a hearty supper. But he spoke very little and
the rough jests of his brother philosophers met with but
little response from him.

CHAPTER XVII

AN UNDERSTANDING

AT one hour after midnight the summons came.
Maria, majestic and unbending, sailed into the tap-room
where Pythagoras and Socrates were already stretched
out full length upon a couple of benches fast asleep and
Diogenes still struggling to keep awake.
"The noble Jongejuffrouw Beresteyn desires your
presence," she said addressing the latter with lofty
dignity.
At once he rose to his feet, and followed Maria up the
stairs and into the lady's room. From this room an inner
door gave on another smaller alcove-like chamber, wherein
a bed had been prepared for Maria.
Gilda somewhat curtly ordered her to retire.
" I will call you, Maria," she said, " when I have need
of you."
Diogenes with elaborate courtesy threw the inner door
open, and stood beside it plumed hat in hand while the
mevrouw sailed past him, with arms folded across her
ample bosom, and one of those dignified glances in her
round eyes that should have annihilated this impious
malapert, whose face-despite its airs of deference, was
wreathed in an obviously ironical smile.
It was only when the heavy oaken door had fallen to
behind her duenna that Gilda with an imperious little
gesture called Diogenes before her.
He advanced hat in hand as was his wont, his magnifi-
cent figure very erect, his head with its wealth of untamed
curls slightly bent. But he looked on her boldly with
162

AN UNDERSTANDING

those laughter-filled, twinkling eyes of his and since he
was young and neither ascetic nor yet a misanthrope,
we may take it that he had some considerable pleasure in
the contemplation of the dainty picture which she pre-
sented against the background of dull gold velvet her
small head propped against the cushions, and feathery
curls escaping from under her coif and casting pearly,
transparent shadows upon the ivory whiteness of her
brow. Her two hands were resting each on an arm of the
chair, and looked more delicate than ever now in the
soft light of the tallow candles that burned feebly in the
pewter candelabra upon the table.
Diogenes for the moment envied his friend Frans Hals
for the power which the painter of pictures has of placing
so dainty an image on record for all time. His look of
bold admiration, however, caused Gilda's glance to harden,
and she drew herself up in her chair in an attitude more
indicative of her rank and station and of her consciousness
of his inferiority.
But not with a single look or smile did she betray
whether she had recognized him or not.
" Your name ? " she asked curtly.
His smile broadened-self-deprecatingly this time.
" They call me Diogenes," he replied.
" A strange name," she commented, "but 'tis of no
consequence."
" Of none whatever," he rejoined, " I had not ventured
to pronounce it, only that you deigned to ask."
Again she frowned: the tone of gentle mockery had
struck unpleasantly on her ear and she did not like that
look of self-satisfied independence which sat on him as
if to the manner born, when he was only an abject menial,
paid to do dirty work for his betters.
" I have sent for you, sir," she resumed after a slight
pause, " because I wished to demand of you an explanation
of your infamous conduct. Roguery and vagabondage
are severely punished by our laws, and you have brought
your neck uncommonly near the gallows by your act of
highway robbery. Do you hear me ? " she asked more
peremptorily, seeing that he made no attempt at a reply.

163

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

" I hear you, mejuffrouw."
"And what is your explanation ? "
" That is my trouble, mejuffrouw. I have none to offer."
" Do you refuse then to tell me what your purpose is in
thus defying the laws of the land and risking the gallows
by laying hands upon me and upon my waiting woman
in the open streets, and by taking me away by brute force
from my home ? "
"My purpose, mejuffrouw, is to convey you safely
as far as Rotterdam, where I will hand you over into the
worthy keeping of a gentleman who will relieve me of
further responsibility with regard to your precious person."
" In Rotterdam ? " she exclaimed, " what should I do in
Rotterdam ? "
" Nothing I imagine," replied Diogenes dryly, " for you
would not remain there longer than is necessary. I am
the bearer of written orders to that same gentleman in
Rotterdam that he shall himself conduct you under
suitable escort-of which I no doubt will still form an
integral part-to his private residence, which I am told
is situate outside the city and on the road to Delft."
"A likely story indeed! " she rejoined vehemently,
" I'll not believe it ! Common theft and robbery are your
purpose, nothing less, else you had not stolen my purse
from me nor the jewels which I wore."
" I had to take your purse and your jewels from you,
mejuffrouw," he said with perfect equanimity, " else
you might have used them for the purpose of slipping
through my fingers. Wenches at wayside inns are easily
amenable to bribes, so are the male servants at city
hostelries. But your purse and the trinkets which you
wore are safely stowed away in my wallet. I shall have
the honour of returning them to you when we arrive
in Rotterdam."
" Of returning them to me," she said with a contemp-
tuous laugh, " do knaves like you ever return stolen
property ? "
" Seldom, I admit," he replied still with unruffled good
humour. " Nevertheless an exception hath often proved
a rule. Your purse and trinkets are here," he added.

i64

AN UNDERSTANDING

And from his wallet he took out a small leather purse
and some loose jewellery which he showed to her.
" And," he added ere he once more replaced them in his
wallet,," I will guard them most carefully until I can re-
turn them to you in Rotterdam, after which time 'twill
be some one else's business to see that you do not slip
through his fingers."
" And you expect me to believe such a senseless tale,"
she rejoined contemptuously.
" There are many things in this world and the next,
mejuffrouw," he said lightly, " that are true, though some
of us believe them not."
"Nay! but this I do believe on the evidence of
mine own eyes -that you stole my money and my
jewels and have no intention of returning them to
me."
" Your opinion of me, mejuffrouw, is already so low that
it matters little surely if you think me a common thief
as well.''
" My opinion of you, sir, is based upon your actions."
" And these I own stand in formidable array against
me."
She bit her lip in vexation and her slender fingers began
to beat a tattoo on the arm of her chair. This man's
placidity and inveterate good humour were getting on her
nerves. It is hard when one means to wound, to find
the surest arrows falling wide of the mark. But now
she waited for a moment or two lest her irritation be-
trayed itself in the quiver of her voice; and it was only
when she felt quite sure that it would sound as trenchant
and hard as she intended that it should, that she said
abruptly :
" Who is paying you, sir, for this infamy ? "
"One apparently who can afford the luxury," he
replied airily.
" You will not tell me ? "
" Do you think, mejuffrouw, that I could ? "
" I may guess."
" It should not be difficult," he assented.
" And you, sir," she continued more vehemently,

165

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

" are one of the many tools which the Lord of Stoutenburg
doth use to gain his own political ends."
" The Lord of Stoutenburg ? "
It was impossible for Gilda Beresteyn to gauge exactly
whether the astonishment expressed in that young
villain's exclamation was real or feigned. Certainly his
mobile face was a picture of puzzlement, but this may have
been caused only by his wondering how she could so
easily have guessed the name of his employer. For as
to this she was never for a moment in doubt. It was
easy enough for her to piece together the series of events
which had followed her parting from her brother at the
cathedral door. Stoutenburg, burning with anxiety and
glowing with his ardent desire for vengeance against the
Stadtholder, had feared that she--Gilda--would betray
the secret which she held, and he had paid this knave
to take her out of the way. Stoutenburg and his gang,
it could be no one else ! She dared not think that her own
brother would have a share in so dastardly an outrage.
It was Stoutenburg of course! and this smiling knave
knew it well ! aye ! even though he murmured again and
this time to the accompaniment of smothered oaths :
" Stoutenburg ? Bedonderd !"
"Aye !" she said loftily, "you see that I am not
deceived ! 'tis the Lord of Stoutenburg who gave you
money to play this trick on me. He paid you ! paid you,
I say, and you, a man who should be fighting for your
country, were over ready to make war upon a woman.
Shame on you ! shame I say ! 'tis a deed that should
cause you to blush, if indeed you have a spark of honesty
in you, which of a truth I do gravely doubt."
She had worked herself up into an outburst of indigna-
tion and flung insult upon insult on him in the vague hope
indeed of waking some slumbering remnant of shame in
his heart, and mayhap ruffling that imperturbable air
of contentment of his, and that impudent look of swagger
most unbecoming in a menial.
But by naming Stoutenburg, she had certainly brought
to light many things which Diogenes had only vaguely
suspected. His mind--keen and shrewd despite his

i66

AN UNDERSTANDING

follies-recalled his interview with Nicolaes Beresteyn
in the studio of Frans Hals; all the details of that inter-
view seemed suddenly to have gained significance as well
as lucidity. The lofty talk anent the future of Holland
and the welfare of the Faith was easily understandable
in this new light which the name of Stoutenburg had cast
upon it. Stoutenburg and the welfare of Holland!
a secret the possession of which meant death to six self-
less patriots or the forfeiture mayhap of her good name
and her honour to this defenceless girl! Stoutenburg at
the bottom of it all! Diogenes could have laughed aloud
with triumph, so clear now was the whole scheme to him !
There was no one living who did not think that at some
time or other Stoutenburg meant to come back and make
yet one more attempt to wipe a blood-stain from the
annals of his country by one equally foul.
One of Barneveld's sons had already paid for such an
attempt with his life ; the other had escaped only in order
to intrigue again, to plot again, and again to fail. And
this poor girl had by a fortuitous mishap overheard the
discussion of the guilty secret. Stoutenburg had come
back and meant to kill the Stadtholder : Nicolaes Beres-
teyn was his accomplice and had callously sacrificed his
innocent sister to the success of his friend's schemes.
If out of this network of intrigues a sensible philosopher
did not succeed in consolidating his independence with
the aid of a substantial fortune, then he was neither so
keen nor so daring as his friends and he himself supposed !
And Gilda wondered what went on in his mind, for those
twinkling eyes of his never betrayed any deeper thought :
but she noticed with great mortification that the insults
which she had heaped upon him so freely had not shamed
him at all, for the good-humoured smile was not effaced
from his lips, rather did the shapely hand wander up
to the moustache in order to give it-she thought-a
more provoking curl.
" I still await your answer," she said haughtily, seeing
that his prolonged silence savoured of impertinence.
"I humbly crave your pardon, mejuffrouw," he said
pleasantly, " I was absorbed in wonderment."

167

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

" You marvelled, sir, how easily I saw behind your
schemes, and saw the hand which drove you in harness ? "
" Your pardon, mejuffrouw. I was pondering on your
own words. You deigned to say just now that I-a man
should be fighting for my country."
" An you are worthy, sir, to be called a man."
"Quite so," he said whimsically. "But even if I
did lay claim to the title, mejuffrouw, how could I fight
for my country when my country doth not happen to
be at war just now."
" Your country ? What pray might your country be ?
Not that this concerns me in the least," she added hastily.
" Of course not," he rejoined blandly.
" What is your country, sir ? "
" England."
" I do not like the English."
"Nor do I, mejuffrouw. But I was unfortunately
not consulted as to my choice of a fatherland: nor doth
it change the fact that King James of England is at peace
just now with all the world."
" So you preferred to earn a dishonest living by abduct-
ing innocent women, to further the intrigues of your
paymaster."
" It is a harsh exposition," he said blandly, " of an
otherwise obvious fact."
" And you are not ashamed."
" Not more than is necessary for my comfort."
" And cannot I move you, sir," she said with sudden
warmth, "cannot an appeal to you from my lips rouse
a feeling of manhood within you. My father is a rich
man," she continued eagerly, "he hath it in his power
to reward those who do him service ; he can do so far more
effectually than the Lord of Stoutenburg. Sir ! I would
not think of making an appeal to your heart ! no doubt
long ago you have taught it to remain cold to the prayers
of a woman in distress: but surely you will listen to the
call of your own self-interest. My father must be nigh
heart-broken by now. The hours have sped away and
he knows not where to find me."
" No ! I have taken very good care of that, mejuffrouw.

168

AN UNDERSTANDING

We are at Leyden now, but we left Haarlem through the
Groningen gate. We travelled north first, then east,
then only south . .. Mynheer Beresteyn would require
a divining rod wherewith to find you now."
It seemed unnecessary cruelty to tell her that, when
already despair had seized on her heart, but she would not
let this abominable rogue see how deeply she was hurt.
She feigned not to have noticed the purport of his words
and continued with the same insistent eagerness:
"Torn with anxiety, sir, he will be ready with a rich
reward for one who would bring his only daughter safely
home to him. I know not what the Lord of Stoutenburg
hath promised you for doing his abominable work for him,
but this I do assure you, that my father will double and
treble whatever sum you choose to name. Take me
back to him, sir, now, this night, and to-morrow
morning you could count yourself one of the rich men of
Haarlem."
But Diogenes with half-closed eyes and gentle smile
slowly shook his head.
" Were I to present myself before Mynheer Beresteyn
to-night, he would summon the town guard and I should
count myself as good as hanged to-morrow."
" Do you measure other men's treachery then by your
own ? "
" I measure other men's wrath by mine, mejuffrouw-
and if a rogue had stolen my daughter, I should not rest
until I had seen him hanged."
" I pledge you my word-" she began hotly.
"And I mine, mejuffrouw," he broke in a little more
firmly than he had spoken hitherto, " that I will place you
safely and I pray God in good health, into the care of a
certain gentleman in Rotterdam. To this is my word of
honour pledged and even such a mean vagabond as I
is bound by a given word."
To this she made no reply. Perhaps she felt that in
his last words there lurked a determination which it were
useless to combat. Her pride too was up in arms. How
could she plead further to this rascal who met the most
earnest appeal with a pert jest ? who mocked at her

I69

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

distress, and was impervious alike to prayers and to in-
sults ?
" I see," she said coldly, " that I do but waste my time
in calling on your honour to forego this infamous trickery.
Where there is no chivalry there can be neither honour
nor pity. I am in your hands, helpless because I am a
woman. If it is the will of God that I should so remain,
I cannot combat brute force with my feeble strength. No
doubt He knows best ! and also I believe doth oft give
the devil power to triumph in the sight of men. After
this night, sir, I will no longer defame my lips by speaking
to you. If you have a spark of compassion left in your
heart for one who hath never wronged you, I but ask you
to relieve me of your presence as much as you can during
the weary hours of this miserable journey."
" Have I your leave to go at once ? " he said with un-
alterable cheerfulness and made haste to reach the door.
" Only one moment more must I detain you," she
rejoined haughtily. " I wish you to understand that from
this hour forth until such time as it pleaseth God to free
me from this humiliating position, I will follow your
commands to the best of my ability; not because I
recognize your right to dictate them but because I am
helpless to oppose you. If I and my waiting woman obey
your orders meekly, if we rise when so ordered, are ready
to start on the way whenever so compelled, get in or out
of the vehicle at the first word from you, can we at least
rest assured that we shall be spared further outrage ? "
" Do you mean, mejuffrouw, that I must no longer
attempt to lift you out of a coach or to carry you up to your
chamber, even if as to-night you are faint and but half-
conscious ? " he asked with whimsical earnestness.
"I desire, sir, that you and those who help you in
this shameful work, do in future spare me and my woman
the insult of laying hands upon our person."
He gave a long, low whistle.
" Dondersteen," he exclaimed flippantly, "I had no
thought that so much hatred and malice could lurk in the
frail body of a woman . . . 'tis true," he added with a
shrug of the shoulders, " that a rogue such as I must of

17o

AN UNDERSTANDING

necessity know very little of the workings of a noble
lady's mind."
" Had you known aught of mine, sir," she retorted
coldly, " you would have understood that it is neither
hatred nor malice which I feel for you and for those who
are paying you to do this infamy . . . what I feel is only
contempt."
" Is that all? " he queried blandly. "Ah, well, mejuff-
rouw, then am I all the more indebted to you for the
great honour which you have done me this hour past."
" Honour ? I do not understand. It was not in my
mind to do you honour."
" I am sure not. You did it quite unconsciously and
the honour was enhanced thereby. You honoured me,
mejuffrouw," he said while a tone of earnestness crept
into his merry voice, " by trusting me-the common thief,
the cut-throat, the hired brigand, alone in your presence
for a whole hour, while the entire household here was abed
and your duenna snoring contentedly in a room with locked
door close by. During that hour your tongue did not
spare my temper for one moment. For this recognition
of manly forbearance and chivalry-even though you
choose to deny their existence-do I humbly thank you.
Despite-or perhaps because of your harsh estimate of
me--you made me feel to-night almost a gentleman."
With his habitual elegance of gesture he swept her a
deep bow, then without another word or look, and with
firm, ringing steps he walked quickly out of the room.

]71

CHAPTER XVIII

THE START

ONCE the door safely closed behind him, he heaved a deep
sigh as if of intense relief and he passed his hand quickly
across his brow.
" By St. Bavon," he murmured, " my friend Diogenes,
thou hast had to face unpleasantness before now-those
arquebusiers at Magdeburg were difficult to withstand,
those murderous blackguards in the forests of Prague
nearly had thy skin, but verdommt be thou, if thou
hast had to hold thy temper in bounds like this before.
Dondersteen! how I could have crushed that sharp-
tongued young vixen till she cried for mercy . . . or
silenced those venomous lips with a kiss! . . . I was
sore tempted indeed to give her real cause for calling me
a knave .. ."
In the tap-room downstairs he found Pythagoras and
Socrates curled up on the floor in front of the hearth.
They were fast asleep, and Diogenes did not attempt to
wake them. He had given them their orders for the
next day earlier in the evening and with the promise of 500
golden guilders to be won by implicit obedience the two
worthies were not like to disobey.
He himself had his promise to his friend Hals to redeem
S. . the flight along the frozen waterways back to Haar-
lem, a few hours spent in the studio in the Peuselaar-
steeg, then the return flight to rejoin his compeers and
the jongejuffrouw at the little hamlet of Houdekerk off
the main road; thither he had ordered them to proceed
in the early morning there to lie perdu until his return
172

Houdeke,rk lay to the east of Leyden and so well off
the beaten track that the little party would be safely
hidden there during the day ;-he intended to be with
them again well before midnight of the next day. For the
nonce he collected a few necessary provisions which he
had ordered to be ready for him-a half bottle of wine, some
meat and bread, then he made his way out of the little
hostelry and across the courtyard to the stables where
the horses had been put up. The night was singularly
clear: the waning moon, after she had emerged from a
bank of low-lying clouds, lit up the surrounding landscape
with a radiance that was intensely blue.
Groping his way about in the stables Diogenes found his
saddle which he himself had lifted off his horse, and from
out the holster he drew a pair of skates. With these hang-
ing by their straps upon his arm, he left the building
behind him and turned to walk in the direction of the
river.
The little city lay quite peaceful and still under the
weird brilliancy of the moon which threw many-hued
reflections on the snow-covered surfaces of roofs and tall
gables. It was piercingly cold, the silver ribbon of the.
Rhyn wound its graceful course westward to the North
Sea and from beyond its opposite bank a biting wind swept
across the dykes and over the flat country around, chasing
myriads of crisp snowflakes from their rest and driving
them in wanton frolic round and round into little whirl-
pools of mist that glistened like the facets of diamonds.
Diogenes had walked briskly along; the skates upon
his arm clicked at every one of his movements with a
pleasing metallic sound. He chose a convenient spot on
the river bank whereon to squat on the ground and
fastened on his skates.
After which he rose and for a moment stood looking
straight out northwards before him. But a few leagues
-half a dozen at most-lay between him and Haarlem.
The Rhyn as well as the innumerable small polders and
lakes had left-after the autumn floods-their usual trail
of narrow waterways behind them which, frozen over
now, joining, intersecting and rejoining again formed a

THE START

173

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

perfect, uninterrupted road from hence to the northern
cities. It had been along these frozen ways that the
daring and patriotic citizens of Leyden had half a century
ago kept up communication with the outer world during
the memorable siege which had lasted throughout the
winter, and it was by their help that they were able to
defy the mighty investing Spanish army by getting pro-
visions into the beleaguered city.
A young adventurer stood here now calmly measuring
in his mind the distance which he would have to traverse
in the teeth of a piercing gale and at dead of night in order
to satisfy the ambition of a friend. It was not the first
time in his hazardous career that he had undertaken such
a journey. He was accustomed to take all risks in life
with indifference and good humour, the only thing that
mattered was the ultimate end: an exciting experience
to go through, a goodly competence to earn, a promise to
fulfil.
Up above, the waning moon seemed to smile upon his
enterprise ; she lay radiant and serene on her star-studded
canopy of mysterious ethereal indigo. Diogenes looked
back on the little hostelry, which lay some little distance
up the street at right angles to the river bank. Was it his
fancy or one of those many mysterious reflections thrown
by the moon ? but it certainly seemed to him as if a light
still burned in one of the upper windows.
The unpleasant interview with the jongejuffrouw had
evidently not weighed his spirits down, for to that distant
light he now sent a loud and merry farewell.
Then deliberately facing the bitter blast he struck out
boldly along the ice and started on his way.

174

CHAPTER XIX

IN THE KINGDOM OF THE NIGHT

HEIGH-HO ! for that run along the ice-a matter of half a
dozen leagues or so--at dead of night with a keen north-
easterly wind whipping up the blood, and motion-smooth
gliding motion-to cause it to glow in every vein.
Heigh-ho ! for the joy of living, for the joy in the
white, ice-covered world, the joy in the night, and in the
moon, and in those distant lights of Leyden which gradu-
ally recede and diminish-tiny atoms now in the infinite
and mysterious distance !
What ho ! a dark and heavy bank of clouds ! whence
come ye, ye disturbers of the moon's serenity ? Nay !
but we are in a hurry, the wind drives us at breathless
speed, we cannot stay to explain whence we have come.
Moon, kind moon, come out again ! ah, there she is,
pallid through the frosty mist, blinking at this white world
scarce less brilliant than she.
On, on ! silently and swiftly, in the stillness of the
night, the cruel skates make deep gashes on the smooth
skin of the ice, long even strokes now, for the Meer is
smooth and straight, and the moon-kind moon !--
marks an even silvery track, there where the capricious
wind has swept it free of snow.
Hat in hand, for the wind is cool and good, and tames
the hot young blood which a woman's biting tongue has
whipped into passion.
" The young vixen," shouts a laughing voice through
the night, " was she aware of her danger ? how I could
have tamed her, and cowed her and terrified her ! Did
175

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

she play a cat and mouse game with me I wonder .. .
Dondersteen ! if I thought that . . ."
But why think of a vixen now, of blue eyes and biting
tongue, when the night with unerring hand clothes the
landscape with glory. One word to the north-east wind
and he sweeps the track quite clear and causes myriads
of diamonds to fly aimlessly about, ere they settle like
tiny butterflies on tortuous twigs and rough blades of
coarse grass. One call to the moon and she partially
hides her face, painting the haze around her to a blood-
red hue; now a touch of blue upon the ice, further a
streak of emerald, and then the tender mauves of the
regal mantle of frost.
Then the thousand sounds that rise all around: the
thousand sounds which all united make one vast, compre-
hensive silence: the soughing of the wind in the bare
poplar trees, the rattle of the tiny dead twigs and moan-
ing of the branches ; from far away the dull and ceaseless
rumble which speaks of a restless sea, and now and again
the loud and melancholy boom of the ice, yielding to the
restless movements of the water beneath.
The sounds which make up silence-silence and lone-
liness, nature's perfect repose under its downy blanket of
snow, the vast embrace of the night stretching out into
infinity in monotonous flatnesses far away to the mys-
terious mists which lie beyond the horizon.
Oh ! for the joy of it all! the beauty of the night, the
wind and the frost ! and the many landmarks which loom
out of the darkness one by one, to guide that flying figure
on its way; the square tower of old Katwyk-binnen
church, the group of pollard willows at the corner of
Veenenburg Polder, the derelict boats on the bank of the
Haarlemer Meer, and always from the left that pungent
smell of the sea, the brine and the peculiar odour which
emanates from the dykes close by, from the wet clay and
rotting branches of willows that protect man against the
encroachment of the ocean.
On, on, thou sole inhabitant of this kingdom of the
night ! fly on thy wings of metal-hour after hour--mid-
aight-one-two--three-where are the hours now ? There

176

IN THE KINGDOM OF THE NIGHT

are no hours in the kingdom of the night ! On, on, for
the moon's course is swift and this will be a neck to neck
race. Ah ! the wicked one ! down she goes, lower and
lower in her career, and there is a thick veil of mist on the
horizon in the west ! Moon ! art not afraid ? the mists
will smother thee ! Tarry yet awhile! tarry ere thou
layest down on the cold, soft bed ! thy light ! give it yet
awhile !-two hours! one hour! until thou hast out-
lined with silver the openwork tower of Haarlem's Groote
Kirk.
On, on, for a brief hour longer ! how can one pause
even to eat or drink ? there is no hunger in the kingdom
of night, no thirst, no fatigue ! and this is a neck to neck
race with the moon.
Ah Dondersteen! but thou art beaten, fair moon !
Let the mists embrace thee now ! sink ! fall ! die as thou
list, there is the tower of St. Bavon ! and we defy the
darkness now !
Here it comes creeping like a furtive and stealthy
creature wiping out with thick black cloth here a star
and there the tip of a tall poplar tree, there a shrub,
there a clump of grass ! Take care, traveller, take care !
that was not just the shadow from the bank, it was a
bunch of reeds that entangle the feet and bring the
skater down on to his face and will drag him, if he be not
swift and alert, right under, into the water under the
ice.
Take care ! there is danger everywhere now in this
inky blackness ! danger on the ice, and upon the bank,
danger in the shadows that are less dark than the
night !
Darker and darker still, until it seemed as if the night's
brush could not hold a more dense hue. The night-
angered that she hath been so long defied-has over-
taken the flying skater at last. She grips him, she holds
him, he dare not advance, he will not retreat. Haarlem
is there not one whole league away and he cannot move
from where he is, in the midst of the Meer, on her icy
bosom, with shadows as tangible as human bodies hem-
ming him in on every side.
M

177

178 THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
Haarlem is there ! the last kiss of the moon before she
fell into that bed of mist, was for St. Bavon's tower,
which then seemed so near. Since then the night has
wiped out the tower, and the pointed gables which cluster
around, and the solitary skater is a prisoner in the fast-
nesses of the night.

CHAPTER XX

BACK AGAIN IN HAARLEM

THEY were terribly weary hours, these last two which the
soldier of fortune, the hardened campaigner had to kill
before the first streak of pallid, silvery dawn would break
over the horizon beyond the Zuyder Zee.
Until then it meant the keeping on the move, cease-
lessly, aimlessly, in order to prevent the frost from biting
the face and limbs, it meant wearily waiting in incessant,
nerve-racking movement for every quarter of an hour
tolled by the unseen cathedral clock; it meant counting
these and the intervening minutes which crawled along
on the leaden stilts of time, until the head began to buzz
and the brain to ache with the intensity of monotony and
of fatigue. It meant the steeling of iron nerves, the
bracing of hardy sinews, the keeping the mind clear and
the body warm.
Two hours to kill under the perpetual lash of a tearing
north wind, gliding up and down a half league of frozen
way so as not to lose the track in the darkness and with
a shroud of inky blackness to envelop everything around.
The hardened campaigner stood the test as only a man
of abnormal physique and body trained to privations
could have stood it. As soon as the thin grey light
began to spread over the sky and picked out a few stunted
snow-covered trees, one by one, he once more started on
his way.
He had less than a league to cover now, and when at
last the cathedral tower boomed out the hour of seven
he was squatting on the back of the Oude Gracht in
'79

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

Haarlem, and with numbed fingers and many an oath
was struggling with the straps of his skates.
A quarter of an hour later he was installed in his friend's
studio in front of a comfortable fire and with a mug of hot
ale in front of him.
" I didn't think that you really meant to come," Frans
Hals had said when he admitted him into his house in
response to his peremptory ring.
" I mean to have some breakfast now at any rate, my
friend," was the tired wayfarer's only comment.
The artist was too excited and too eager to get to work
to question his sitter further. I doubt if in Diogenes'
face or in his whole person there were many visible traces
of the fatigues of the night.
" What news in Haarlem ? " he asked after the first
draught of hot ale had put fresh life into his veins.
" Why ? where have you been that you've not heard ? "
queried Hals indifferently.
"Away on urgent business affairs," replied the other
lightly ; " and what is the news ? "
" That the daughter of Cornelius Beresteyn, the rich
grain merchant and deputy burgomaster of this city,
was abducted last night by brigands and hath not to my
knowledge been found yet."
Diogenes gave a long, low whistle of well-feigned
astonishment.
" The fact doth not speak much for the guardians of
the city," he remarked dryly.
" The outrage was very cleverly carried out, so I've
heard said ; and it was not until close upon midnight that
the scouts sent out by Mynheer Beresteyn in every direc-
tion came back with the report that the brigands left the
city by the Groningen gate and were no doubt well on
their way north by then."
" And what was done after that ? "
"I have not heard yet," replied Hals. " It is still
early. When the serving woman comes she will tell us
the latest news. I am afraid I can't get to work until the
light improves. Are you hungry ? Shall I get you
something more solid to eat ? "

180o

BACK AGAIN IN HAARLEM 181
"Well, old friend," rejoined the other gaily, " since
you are so hospitable . ."
By eight o'clock he was once more ensconced on the
sitter's platform, dressed in a gorgeous doublet and sash,
hat on head and hand on hip, smiling at his friend's
delight and eagerness in his work.
Hals in the meanwhile had heard further news of the
great event which apparently was already the talk of
Haarlem even at this early hour of the day.
" There seems no doubt," he said, " that the outrage is
the work of those vervloekte sea-wolves. They have
carried Gilda Beresteyn away in the hope of extorting a
huge ransom out of her father."
"I hope," said Diogenes unctuously, " that he can
afford to pay it."
" He is passing rich," replied the artist with a sigh.
" A great patron of the arts . . . it was his son you saw
here yesterday, and the portrait which I then showed you
was that of the unfortunate young lady who has been so
cruelly abducted."
" Indeed," remarked Diogenes ostentatiously smother-
ing a yawn as if the matter was not quite so interesting
to him-a stranger to Haarlem-as it was to his friend.
" The whole city is in a tumult," chntinued Hals, who
was busily working on his picture all the while that he
talked, " and Mynheer Beresteyn and his son Nicolaes
are raising a private company of Waardgelders to pursue
the brigands. One guilder a day do they offer to these
volunteers and Nicolaes Beresteyn will himself command
the expedition."
" Against the sea-wolves ? " queried the other blandly.
" In person. Think of it, man ! The girl is his own
sister."
" It is unthinkable," agreed Diogenes solemnly.
All of which was, of course, vastly interesting to him,
since what he heard to-day would be a splendid guidance
for him as to his future progress southwards to Rotter-
dam. Nicolaes Beresteyn leading an expedition of raw
recruits in the pursuit of his sister was a subject humorous
enough to delight the young adventurer's sense of fun;

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

moreover it was passing lucky that suspicion had at once
fallen on the sea-wolves-a notorious band of ocean
pirates whose acts of pillage and abduction had long since
roused the ire of all northern cities that suffered from
their impudent depredations. Diogenes congratulated
himself on the happy inspiration which had caused him to
go out of Haarlem by its north gate and to have pro-
gressed toward Groningen for a quarter of an hour or so,
leaving traces behind him which Nicolaes Beresteyn would
no doubt know how to interpret in favour of the "sea
wolves " theory. He could also afford to think with
equanimity now of Pythagoras and Socrates in charge of
the jongejuffrouw lying comfortably perdu at a wayside
inn, situated fully thirteen leagues to the south of the
nearest inland lair, which was known to be the halting
place of the notorious sea-robbers.
Indeed, his act of friendship in devoting his day to the
interests of Frans Hals had already obtained its reward,
for he had gathered valuable information, and his journey
to Rotterdam would in consequence be vastly more easy
to plan.
No wonder that Frans Hals as he worked on the picture
felt he had never had such a sitter before; the thoughts
within redolent of fun, of amusement at the situation, of
eagerness for the continuation of the adventure, seemed
to bubble and to sparkle out of the eyes; the lines of quiet
humour, of gentle irony appeared ever mobile, ever
quivering around the mouth.
For many hours that day hardly a word passed be-
tween the two men while the masterpiece was in progress,
which was destined to astonish and delight the whole
world for centuries to come. They hardly paused a
quarter of an hour during the day to snatch a morsel of
food; Hals, imbued with the spirit of genius, begrudged
every minute not spent in work, and Diogenes, having
given his time to his friend, was prepared that the gift
should be a full measure.
Only at four o'clock when daylight faded, and the
twilight began to merge the gorgeous figure of the sitter
into one dull, grey harmony, did the artist at last throw

182

BACK AGAIN IN HAARLEM

down brushes and palette with a sigh of infinite satis-
faction.
" It is good," he said, as with eyes half-closed he took
a final survey of his sitter and compared the living model
with his own immortal work.
" Have you had enough of me ? " asked Diogenes.
" No. Not half enough. I would like to make a fresh
start on a new portrait of you at once. I would try one
of those effects of light, of which Rembrandt thinks that he
hath the monopoly, but which I would show him how to
treat without so much artificiality."
He continued talking of technicalities, rambling on in
his usual fretful, impatient way, while Diogenes stretched
out his cramped limbs, and rubbed his tired eyes.
" Can I undress now ? "
" Yes. The light has quite gone," said the artist with
a sigh.
Diogenes stood for a long time in contemplation of the
masterpiece, even as the shadows of evening crept slowly
into every corner of the studio and cast their gloom over
the gorgeous canvas in its magnificent scheme of colour.
" Am I really as good looking as that ? " he asked with
one of his most winning laughs.
" Good looking? I don't know," replied Hals, " you
are the best sitter I have ever had. To-day has been one
of perfect, unalloyed enjoyment to me."
All his vulgar, mean little ways'had vanished, his obse-
quiousness, that shifty look of indecision in the eyes
which proclaimed a growing vice. His entire face flowed
with the enthusiasm of a creator who has had to strain
every nerve to accomplish his work, but having accom-
plished it, is entirely satisfied with it. He could not tear
himself away from the picture, but stood looking at it long
after the gloom had obliterated all but its most striking
lights.
Then only did he realise that he was both hungry and
weary.
" Will you come with me to the ' Lame Cow,' " he said
to his friend, "we can eat and drink there and hear all
the latest news. I want to see Cornelius Beresteyn if

-83

184 THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
I can: he must be deeply stricken with grief and will
have need of the sympathy of all his well-wishers. What
say you ? Shall we get supper at the 'Lame Cow' ? "
To which proposition Diogenes readily agreed. It
pleased his spirit of adventure to risk a chance encounter
in the popular tavern with Nicolaes Beresteyn or the
Lord of Stoutenburg, both of whom must think him at
this moment several leagues away in the direction of
Rotterdam. Neither of these gentlemen would venture
to question him in a public place; moreover it had been
agreed from the first that he was to be given an absolutely
free hand with regard to his plans for conducting the
jongejuffrouw to her ultimate destination.
Altogether the afternoon and evening promised to be
more amusing than Diogenes had anticipated.

CHAPTER XXI

A GRIEF-STRICKEN FATHER

FRANS HALS had not been guilty of exaggeration when he
said that the whole city was in a turmoil about the
abduction of Gilda Beresteyn by that impudent gang of
ocean-robbers who called themselves the sea-wolves.
On this subject there were no two opinions. The sea-
wolves had done this deed as they had done others of a
like nature before. The abduction of children of rich
parents was one of their most frequent crimes : and many
a wealthy burgher had had to pay half his fortune away
in ransom for his child. The fact that a covered sledge
escorted by three riders who were swathed in heavy
mantles had been seen to go out of the city by the northern
gate at seven o'clock last evening, was held to be sufficient
proof that the unfortunate jongejuffrouw was being
conveyed straightway to the coast where the pirates had
their own lairs and defied every effort which had hitherto
been made for their capture.
On this the 2nd day of January, 1624-rather less than
twenty-four hours after the abduction of Gilda Beresteyn,
the tapperij of the " Lame Cow " presented an appearance
which was almost as animated as that which had graced
it on New Year's night. Every one who took an interest
in the terrible event went to the " Lame Cow" in the
hope of finding another better informed than himself.
Men and women sat round the tables or leaned against
the bars discussing the situation: every one, of course,
had a theory to put forward, or a suggestion to offer.
" 'Tis time the old law for the raising of a corps of
185

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

Waardgelders by the city were put into force once more,"
said Mynheer van der Meer the burgomaster, whose
words carried weight. " What can a city do for the preser-
vation of law and order if it has not the power to levy its
own military guard ? "
" My opinion is," said Mynheer van Zeller, who was
treasurer of the Oudemannenhuis and a personage of
vast importance, " that we in this city ought to close
our gates against all this foreign rabble who infest us
with their noise and their loose ways. Had there not
been such a crowd of them here for the New Year you
may depend on it that Jongejuffrouw Beresteyn would
not have had to suffer this dastardly abomination."
Others on the other hand thought that the foreign
mercenaries now within the city could be utilised for
the purpose of an expedition against the sea-wolves.
" They are very daring and capable fighters," suggested
Mynheer van Beerenbrock-a meek, timid but vastly
corpulent gentleman of great consideration on the town
council, "and more able to grapple with desperate
brigands than were a levy of raw recruits from among our
young townsfolk."
" Set a rogue to fight a rogue, say I," assented another
pompous burgher.
Cornelius Beresteyn sat at a table with his son and
surrounded by his most influential friends. Those who
knew him well declared that he had aged ten years in the
past few hours. His devotion to his daughter was well
known and it was pitiable to see the furrows in his cheeks
wet with continuously falling tears. He sat huddled up
within himself, his elbows resting on the table, his head
often buried in his hands when emotion mastered him,
and he felt unable to restrain his tears. He looked like
a man absolutely dazed with the immensity of his grief,
as if some one had dealt him a violent blow on the head
which had half-addled his brain.
Throughout the day his house had been positively
invaded by the frequent callers who, under a desire to
express their sympathy, merely hid their eagerness to
learn fresh details of the outrage. Cornelius Beresteyn,

186

A GRIEF-STRICKEN FATHER

harassed by this well-meaning and very noisy crowd
and feeling numb in mind and weary in body, had been
too feeble to withstand the urgent entreaties of his
friends who had insisted on dragging him to the " Lame
Cow," where the whole situation-which had become
of almost national importance-could be fully and
comprehensively discussed.
" You want to get your daughter back, do you not,
old friend ? " urged Mynheer van der Meer the burgomaster.
" Of course," assented Beresteyn feebly.
" And you want to get her back as quickly as possible,"
added the pompous treasurer of the Oudemannenhuis.
" As quickly as possible," reiterated Beresteyn vaguely.
" Very well then," concluded the burgomaster, in tones
of triumph which suggested that he had gained a great
victory over the obstinate will of his friend, " what you
must do, my good Beresteyn, is to attend an informal
council which I have convened for this afternoon at the
'Lame Cow' and whereat we will listen to all the pro-
positions put forward by our fellow-townsmen for the
speedy capture of those vervloekte brigands and the
liberation of your beloved daughter."
In the meanwhile an untoward accident had momen-
tarily arrested the progress of the original band of
volunteers who, under the leadership of Nicolaes Beresteyn,
had started quite early in the morning on the Groningen
route in pursuit of the sea-wolves. Nicolaes, namely,
on remounting his horse after a brief halt at Bloemendal,
had slipped on the snow-covered ground; his horse
jumped aside and reared and, in so doing, seriously wrenched
Nicolaes' right arm, almost dislocating his shoulder and
causing him thereby such excruciating pain that he nearly
fainted on the spot.
Further progress on horseback became an impossibility
for him, and two of the volunteers had much difficulty in
conveying him back to Haarlem, where, however, he
displayed the utmost fortitude by refusing to waste his
time in being examined and tended by the bone-setter, and
declaring that since he could not take an active part in
the campaign against the vervloekte malefactors he would

187

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

give every moment of his time and every faculty he
possessed for the organisation of an effective corps of
soldiery capable of undertaking a successful punitive
expedition.
He joined his father in the tap-room of the " Lame
Cow," and though he was obviously in great pain with
his arm and shoulder which he had hastily and per-
functorily tied up with his sash, he was untiring in his
suggestions, his advice, his offers of money and of well-
considered plans.
Unbeknown to anyone save to him, the Lord of Stouten-
burg sat in a dark recess of the tapperij deeply interested
in all that was going on. He knew, of course, every detail
of the plot which Nicolaes Beresteyn had hatched at his
instigation and-hidden as he was in his obscure corner-
it pleased his masterful mind to think that the tangled
skein of this affair which these solemn and pompous
burghers were trying to unravel had been originally
embroiled by himself.
He listened contemptuously and in silence to the wild
and oft senseless talk which went on around him; but
when he caught sight of Diogenes swaggering into the
room in the wake of the painter Frans Hals he very
nearly betrayed himself.
Nicolaes Beresteyn too was dumbfounded. For the
moment he literally gasped with astonishment, and was
quite thankful that his supposedly dislocated shoulder
furnished a good pretext for the string of oaths which he
uttered. But Diogenes, sublimely indifferent to the
astonishment of his patron, took a seat beside his friend
at one of the vacant tables and ordered a substantial
supper with a bottle of very choice wine wherewith to
wash it down, all of which he evidently meant to pay
for with Nicolaes' money. The latter could do nothing
but sit by in grim silence while the man whom he had
paid to do him service ate and drank heartily, cracked
jokes and behaved for all the world as if he were a burgher
of leisure plentifully supplied with money.
Time was going on: the subject of the expedition
against the sea-wolves had been fully discussed and

188

A GRIEF-STRICKEN FATHER

certain resolutions arrived at, which only lacked the
assent of the burgomaster sitting in council and of
Cornelius Beresteyn-the party chiefly interested in the
affair-in order to take effect on the morrow.
Gradually the tap-room became less and less full:
one by one the eager and inquisitive townsfolk departed
in order to impart what news they had gleaned to their
expectant families at home.
Nicolaes Beresteyn, inwardly fuming and fretting with
rage, had been quite unable to stay on quietly while
Diogenes sat not twenty paces away from him, wasting
his patron's time and money and apparently in the best
of humours, for his infectious laugh rang from end to end
of the raftered room; he had soon assembled a small
crowd of boon-companions round his table, whom he
treated to merry jests as well as to Mynheer Beek's most
excellent wine: but when he leaned forward bumper in
hand and actually had the audacity loudly to pledge the
noble Beresteyn family and to wish the heroic Nicolaes
speedy mending of his broken bones, the latter rose with
a muttered curse and, having taken a curt farewell from
his friends, he strode glowering out of the room.
The Lord of Stoutenburg-as unobtrusive and silent
as was his wont-rose quietly a few minutes later and
followed in the wake of his friend.

189

CHAPTER XXII

A DOUBLE PLEDGE

CORNELIUS BERESTEYN had now only a few of his most
intimate friends beside him, and when Frans Hals had
finished his supper he ventured to approach the rich
patron of arts and to present his own most respectful
expressions of sympathy.
Softened by grief the old man was more than usually
gracious to the artist.
" 'Tis a bitter blow, my good Hals," 'he said dully.
"Please God, those devils have only an eye on your
money, mynheer," said the artist consolingly. " They will
look on the jongejuffrouw as a valuable hostage and
treat her with the utmost deference in the hopes of getting
a heavy ransom from you."
" May you be speaking truly," sighed Cornelius with a
disconsolate shake of the head, "but think what she
must be suffering now, while she is uncertain of her own
fate, poor child "
" Alas ! "
"This delay is killing me, Hals," continued the old
man, who in the midst of his more pompous friends seemed
instinctively drawn to the simple nature of this humble
painter of pictures. " The burgomaster means well but
his methods are slow and ponderous. All my servants
and dependents have joined the first expedition toward
Groningen, but God knows how they will get on, now
that Nicolaes no longer leads them. They have had no
training in such matters, and will hardly know how to
proceed."
Igo

A DOUBLE PLEDGE

" You really want some one who is daring and capable,
mynheer, some one who will be as wary as those ver-
vloekte sea-wolves and beat them at their own game.
'Tis not so much the numbers that you want as the one
brain to direct and to act."
"True ! true, my good Hals ! But our best men are
all at the war fighting for our religious and political
liberties, while we-the older citizens of our beloved
country with our wives and our daughters--are left a prey
to the tyranny of malefactors and of pirates. The
burgomaster hopes to raise an efficient corps of volunteers
by to-morrow . . . but I doubt me if he will succeed . . .
I have sent for help, I have spared no money to obtain
assistance . .. but I am an old man myself, and my son
alas ! has been rendered helpless at the outset, through
no fault of his own . . . "
" But surely there are young men left in Haarlem
whom wanton mischief such as this would cause to boil
with indignation."
"There are few young men left in Haarlem, my
friend," rejoined Beresteyn sadly, " the Stadtholder hath
claimed the best of them. Those who are left behind are
too much engrossed in their own affairs to care greatly
about the grief of an old man, or a wrong done to an
innocent girl."
" I'll not believe it," said Hals hotly.
" Alas, 'tis only too true ! Men nowadays-those at
any rate who are left in our cities-no longer possess that
spirit of chivalry or of adventure which caused our
forebears to give their life's blood for justice and for
liberty."
" You wrong them, mynheer," protested the artist.
" I think not. Think on it, Hals. You know Haarlem
well; you know most people who live in the city. Can
you name me one man who would stand up before me
to-day and say boldly: ' Mynheer, you have lost your
daughter: evil-doers have taken her from her home.
Here am I ready to do you service, and by God do I
swear that I will bring your daughter back to you!'
So would our fathers have spoken, my good Hals, before

191

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

commerce and prosperity had dulled the edge of reckless
gallantry. By God ! they were fine men in those days-we
are mere pompous, obese, self-satisfied shopkeepers now."
There was a great deal of bitter truth in what Cornelius
Beresteyn had said : Hals-the artist-who had listened
to the complacent talk that had filled this room awhile
ago--who knew of the commercial transactions that
nowadays went by the name of art-patronage-he knew
that the old man was not far wrong in his estimate of his
fellow-countrymen in these recent prosperous times.
It was the impulsive, artistic nature in him which
caused him to see what he merely imagined-chivalry,
romance, primeval notions of bravery and of honour.
He looked round the room-now almost deserted-
somewhat at a loss for words that would soothe Beresteyn's
bitter spirit of resentment, and casually his glance fell
on the broad figure of his friend Diogenes, who, leaning
back in his chair, his plumed hat tilted rakishly across his
brow, had listened to the conversation between the two
men with an expression of infinite amusement literally
dancing in his eyes. And it was that same artistic,
impulsive nature which caused Frans Hals then to exclaim
suddenly :
"Well, mynheer ! since you call upon me and on my
knowledge of this city, I can give you answer forthwith.
Yes ! I do know a man, now in Haarlem, who hath no
thought of commerce or affairs, who possesses that spirit
of chivalry which you say is dead among the men of
Holland. He would stand up boldly before you, hat in
hand and say to you: 'Mynheer, I am ready to do you
service, and by God do I swear that I will bring your
daughter back to you, safe and in good health ! ' I know
such a man, mynheer!"
" Bah ! you talk at random, my good Hals!" said
Beresteyn with a shrug of the shoulders.
" May I not present him to you, mynheer ? "
" Present him ? Whom ? . . . What nonsense is this?"
asked the old man, more dazed and bewildered than before
by the artist's voluble talk. "Whom do you wish to
present to me ? "

192

A DOUBLE PLEDGE

"The man who I firmly believe would out of pure
chivalry and the sheer love of adventure do more toward
bringing the jongejuffrouw speedily back to you than all
the burgomaster's levies of guards and punitive ex-
peditions."
" You don't mean that, Hals ?-'twere a cruel jest to
raise without due cause the hopes of a grief-stricken old
man."
" 'Tis no jest, mynheer! " said the artist, "there sits
the man !"
And with a theatrical gesture-for Mynheer Hals had
drunk some very good wine after having worked at high
pressure all day, and his excitement had gained the better
of him-he pointed to Diogenes, who had heard every
word spoken by his friend, and at this denouement burst
into a long, delighted, ringing laugh.
" Ye gods ! " he exclaimed, " your Olympian sense of
humour is even greater than your might."
At an urgent appeal from Hals he rose and, hat in hand,
did indeed approach Mynheer Beresteyn, looking every
inch of him a perfect embodiment of that spirit of adven-
ture which was threatening to be wafted away from these
too prosperous shores. His tall figure looked of heroic
proportions in this low room and by contrast with the
small, somewhat obese burghers who still sat close to
Cornelius, having listened in silence to the latter's colloquy
with the artist. His bright eyes twinkled, his moustache
bristled, his lips quivered with the enjoyment of the
situation. The grace and elegance of his movements,
born of conscious strength, added dignity to his whole
personality.
"My friend hath name Diogenes," said Frans Hals,
whose romantic disposition revelled in this presentation,
" but there's little of the philosopher about him. He is
a man of action, an invincible swordsman, a- "
"Dondersteen, my good Hals ! " ejaculated Diogenes
gaily, " you'll shame me before these gentlemen."
"There's naught to be ashamed of, sir, in the eulogy
of a friend," said Cornelius Beresteyn with quiet dignity,
" and 'tis a pleasure to an old man like me to look on one
N

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

so well favoured as yourself. Ah, sir! 'tis but sorrow
that I shall know in future ... My daughter . . . you
have heard . .? "
" I know the trouble that weighs on your soul, mynheer,"
replied Diogenes simply.
" You have heard then what your friend says of you ?"
continued the old man, whose tear-dimmed eyes gleamed
with the new-born flicker of hope. " Our good Hals is
enthusiastic, romantic . . . mayhap he hath exaggerated
. . . hath in fact been mistaken . . ."
It was sadly pathetic to see the unfortunate father so
obviously hovering 'twixt hope and fear, his hands
trembled, there was an appeal in his broken voice, an
appeal that he should not be deceived, that he should not
be thrown back from the giddy heights of hope to the
former deep abyss of despair.
"My daughter, sir. .." he murmured feebly, "she
is all the world to me . . . her mother died when she
was a baby ... she is all the world to me. .. they
have taken her from me . . . she is so young, sir . . . so
beautiful . . . she is all the world to me . . . I would
give half my fortune to have her back safely in my
arms ."
There was silence in the quaint old-world place after
that--silence only broken by the suppressed sobs of the
unfortunate man who had lost his only daughter. The
others sat round the table, saying no word, for the pathos
evoked by Beresteyn's grief was too great for words. Hals'
eyes were fixed on his friend, and he tried in vain to read
and understand the enigmatical smile which hovered in
every line of that mobile face. The stillness only lasted
a few seconds : the next moment Diogenes' ringing voice
had once more set every lurking echo dancing from rafter
to rafter.
" Mynheer!" he said loudly, "you have lost your
daughter. Here am I to do you service, and by God I
swear that I will bring your daughter safely back to
you."
Frans Hals heaved a deep sigh of satisfaction. Corne-
lius Beresteyn, overcome by emotion, could not at first

A DOUBLE PLEDGE

utter a word. He put out his hand, groping for that of
the man who had fanned the flames of hope into living
activity.
Diogenes, solemnly trying to look grave and earnest,
took the hand thus loyally offered to him. He could
have laughed aloud at the absurdity of the present
situation. He--pledged by solemn word of honour to
convey Jongejuffrouw Beresteyn to Rotterdam and there
to place her into the custody of Ben Isaje, merchant of
that city, he-carrying inside his doublet an order to
Ben Isaje to pay him 3,000 guilders, he-known to the
jongejuffrouw as the author of the outrage against her
person, he was here solemnly pledging himself to restore
her safely into her father's arms. How this was to be
fulfilled, how he would contrive to earn that comfortable
half of a rich Haarlem merchant's fortune, he had-we
may take it-at the present moment not the remotest
idea: for indeed, the conveying of the jongejuffrouw
back to Haarlem would be no difficult matter, once his
promise to Nicolaes Beresteyn had been redeemed. The
question merely was how to do this without being de-
nounced by the lady herself as an impudent and double-
dealing knave, which forsooth she already held him to be.
Cornelius and his friends, however, gave him no time
now for further reflection. All the thinking out would
have to be done presently-no doubt on the way between
Haarlem and Houdekerk, and probably in a mist of
driving snow-for the nonce he had to stand under the
fire of unstinted eulogy hurled at him from every side.
" Well spoken, young man ! "
" 'Tis gallant bearing forsooth ! "
" Chivalry indeed is not yet dead in Holland."
" Are you a Dutchman, sir ? "
To this direct query he gave reply :
" My father was one of those who came in English
Leicester's train, whose home was among the fogs of
England and under the shadow of her white, mysterious
cliffs. My mother was Dutch and he broke her heart..."
" Not an unusual story, alas, these times !" quoth a
sober mynheer with a sigh. " I know of more than one

195

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

case like your own, sir. Those English adventurers were
well favoured and smooth tongued, and when they
gaily returned to their sea-girt island they left a long trail
behind them of broken hearts--of sorrowing women and
forsaken children."
"My mother, sir, was a saint," rejoined Diogenes
earnestly, "my father married her in Amsterdam when
she was only eighteen. She was his wife, yet he left her
homeless and his son fatherless."
" But if he saw you, sir, as you are," said Cornelius
Beresteyn kindly, "he would surely make amends."
" But he shall not see me, sir," retorted Diogenes
lightly, " for I hate him so, because of the wrong he did to
my mother and to me. He shall never even hear of me
unless I succeed in carving mine own independent fortune,
or contrive to die like a gentleman."
" Both of which, sir, you will surely do," now interposed
Beresteyn with solemn conviction. "Your acts and
words do proclaim you a gentleman, and therefore you
will die one day, just as you have lived. In the meanwhile,
I am as good as my word. My daughter's safety, her life
and her honour are worth a fortune to me. I am reputed
a wealthy man. My business is vast, and I have one
million guilders lying at interest in the hands of Mynheer
Bergansius the world-famed jeweller of Amsterdam.
One half that money, sir, shall be yours, together with my
boundless gratitude, if you deliver my daughter out of
the hands of the malefactors who have seized her person
and bring her back safe and sound to me."
" If life is granted me, sir," rejoined Diogenes im-
perturbably, without a blush or a tremor, "I will find
your daughter and bring her safely to you as speedily
as God will allow me."
" But you cannot do this alone, sir . ." urged Corne-
lius, on whom doubt and fear had not yet lost their hold.
" How will you set to work ? "
"That, mynheer, is my secret," rejoined Diogenes
placidly, "and the discussion of my plans might
jeopardise their success."
"True, sir; but remember that the anxiety which I

196

A DOUBLE PLEDGE 197
suffer now will be increased day by day, until it brings
me on the threshold of the grave."
"I will remember that, 'mynheer, and will act as
promptly as may be; but the malefactors have twenty-
four hours start of me. I may have to journey far ere I
come upon their track."
" But you will have companions with you, sir ? Friends
who will help and stand by you. Those sea-wolves are
notorious for their daring and their cruelty . .. they
may be more numerous too than you think . . ."
"The harder the task, mynheer," said Diogenes with
his enigmatical smile, " the greater will be my satisfaction
if I succeed in fulfilling it."
" But though you will own to no kindred, surely you
have friends ? " insisted Beresteyn.
"Two faithful allies, and my sword, the most faithful
of them all," replied the other.
" You will let me furnish you with money in advance, I
hope."
" Not till I have earned it, mynheer."
"You are proud, sir, as well as chivalrous," retorted
Cornelius.
"I pray you praise me not, mynheer. Greed after
money is my sole motive in undertaking this affair."
" This I'll not believe," concluded Beresteyn as he now
rose to go. " Let me tell you, sir, that by your words,
your very presence, you have put new life, new hope into
me. Something tells me that I can trust you ...
something tells me that you will succeed . . . Without
kith or kindred, sir, a man may rise to fortune by his
valour : 'tis writ in your face that you are such an one.
With half a million guilders so earned a man can aspire
to the fairest in the land," he added not without signi-
ficance, " and there is no father who would not be proud
to own such a son."
He then shook Diogenes warmly by the hand. He was
a different man to the poor grief-stricken rag of humanity
who had entered this tavern a few hours ago. His
friends also shook the young man by the hand and said
a great many more gracious and complimentary words

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

to him, which he accepted in grave silence, his merry eyes
twinkling with the humour of it all.
The worthy burghers filed out of the tap-room one by
one in the wake of Cornelius. It was bitterly cold and
the snow was again falling: they wrapped their fur-
lined mantles closely round them ere going out of the
warm room, but their hats they kept in their hands until
the last, and were loth to turn their backs on Diogenes
as they went. They felt as if they were leaving the
presence of some great personage.
It was only when the heavy oaken door had fallen
to for the last time behind the pompous soberly-clad
figures of the mynheers and Diogenes found himself alone
in the tapperij with his friend Frans Hals that he at last
gave vent to that overpowering sense of merriment which
had all along threatened to break its bonds. He sank
into the nearest chair:
" Dondersteen ! Dondersteen ! " he exclaimed between
the several outbursts of irrepressible laughter which
shook his powerful frame and brought the tears to his
eyes, " Gods in Olympia ! have you ever seen the like ?
Verrek jezelf, my good Hals, you should go straight to
Paradise when you die for having brought about this
heaven-born situation. Dondersteen! Dondersteen! I had
promised myself two or three hours' sleep, but we must
have a bottle of Beek's famous wine on this first ! "
And Frans Hals could not for the life of him understand
what there was in this fine situation that should so
arouse Diogenes' mirth.
But then Diogenes had always been an irresponsible
creature, who was wont to laugh even at the most serious
crises of his life.

198

CHAPTER XXIII

A SPY FROM THE CAMP

" COME to my lodgings, Nicolaes. I have good news
for you, and you do no good by cooling your temper
here in the open."
Stoutenburg, coming out of his lodgings half an hour
later to look for his friend, had found Beresteyn in the
Hout Straat walking up and down like a caged beast
in a fury.
"The vervloekte Keerl! the plepshurk ! the smeer-
lap ! " he ejaculated between his clenched teeth. " I'll
not rest till I have struck him in the face first and killed
him after ! "
But he allowed Stoutenburg to lead him down the
street to the narrow gabled house where he lodged.
Neither of them spoke however; fury apparently beset
them both equally, the kind of fury which is dumb, and
all the more fierce because it finds no outlet in words.
Stoutenburg led the way up the wooden stairs to a
small room at the back of the house. There was no
light visible anywhere inside the building, and Nicolaes,
not knowing his way about, stumbled upwards in the
dark keeping close to the heels of his friend. The latter
had pushed open the door of his room. Here a tallow
candle placed in a pewter sconce upon a table shed a
feeble, flickering light around. The room by this scanty
glimmer looked to be poorly but cleanly furnished;
there was a curtained bed in the panelling of the wall,
and a table in the middle of the room with a few chairs
placed in a circle round it.
x99

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

On one of these sat a man who appeared to be in the
last stages of weariness. His elbows rested on the table
and his head was buried in his folded arms. His clothes
looked damp and travel-stained; an empty mug of ale
and a couple of empty plates stood in front of him, beside
a cap made of fur and a pair of skates.
At the sound made by the opening of the door and
the entrance of the two men, he raised his head and
seeing the Lord of Stoutenburg he quickly jumped to his
feet.
" Sit down, Jan," said Stoutenburg curtly, " you must
be dog-tired. Have you had enough to eat and drink ? "
" I thank you, my lord, I have eaten my fill," replied
Jan, " and I am not so tired now that I have had some
rest."
" Sit down," reiterated Stoutenburg peremptorily, " and
you too, my good Nicolaes," he added as he offered a chair
to his friend. "Let me just tell you the news which
Jan has brought, and which should make you forget
even your present just wrath, so glorious, so important
is it."
He went up to a cabinet which stood in one corner of
the room, and from it took a bottle and three pewter
mugs. These he placed on the table and filled the mugs
with wine. Then he drew another chair close to the
table and sat down.
"Jan," he resumed, turning to Beresteyn, " left the
Stadtholder's camp at Sprang four days ago. He has
travelled the whole way along the frozen rivers and
waterways only halting for the nights. The news which
he brings carries for the bearer of such splendid tidings
its own glorious reward; Jan, I must tell you, is with
us heart and soul and hates the Stadtholder as much
as I do. Is that not so, Jan ? "
"My father was hanged two years ago," replied Jan
simply, "because he spoke disparaging words of the
Stadtholder. Those words were called treason, and my
father was condemned to the gallows merely for speaking
them."
Stoutenburg laughed, his usual harsh, mirthless laugh.

200

A SPY FROM THE CAMP

" Yes ! that is the way justice is now administered
in the free and independent United Provinces," he said
roughly; "down on your knees, ye lumbering Dutch-
men t lick the dust off the boots of His Magnificence
Maurice of Nassau Prince of Orange ! kiss his hand, do
his bidding! give forth fulsome praise of his deeds!
S. . How long, O God, how long? " he concluded with a
bitter sigh.
" Only for a few more days, my lord," said Jan firmly.
"The Stadtholder left his camp the same day as I did.
But he travels slowly, in his sledge, surrounded by a
bodyguard of an hundred picked men. He is sick and
must travel slowly. Yesterday he had only reached
Dordrecht, to-day-if my information is correct--he
should sleep at Ijsselmunde. But to-morrow he will be
at Delft, where he will spend two days at the Prinsenhof."
" At Delft !" exclaimed Stoutenburg as he brought
his clenched fist down upon the table. "Thank God i
I have got him at last."
He leaned across nearer still to Nicolaes and in his
excitement clutched his friend's wrists with nervy trem-
bling fingers, digging his nails into the other man's flesh
till Beresteyn could have screamed with pain.
" From Delft," he murmured hoarsely, " the only way
northwards is along the left bank of the Schie, the river
itself is choked with ice-floes which renders it impassable.
Just before Ryswyk the road crosses to the right bank
of the river over a wooden bridge which we all know
well. Half a league to the south of the bridge is the
molens which has been my headquarters ever since I
landed at Scheveningen three weeks ago; there I have
my stores and my ammunition. Do you see it all,
friend ? " he queried whilst a feverish light glowed in
his eyes. " Is it not God who hath delivered the tyrant
into my hands at last ? I start for Ryswyk to-night
with you to help me, Nicolaes, with van Does and all
my friends who will rally round me, with the thirty or
forty men whom they have recruited for placing at my
disposal. The molens to the south of the wooden bridge
which spans the Schie is our rallying point. In the night

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

before the Stadtholder starts on his way from Delft
we make our final preparations. I have enough gun-
powder stowed away at the mill to blow up the bridge.
We'll dispose it in its place during that night. Then
you, Nicolaes, shall fire the powder at the moment when
the Stadtholder's escort is half way across the bridge.
.. . In the confusion and panic caused by the explosion
and the collapse of the bridge our men can easily over-
power the Prince's bodyguard--whilst I, dagger in hand,
do fulfil the oath which I swore before the altar of God,
to kill the Stadtholder with mine own hand."
Gradually as he spoke his voice became more hoarse
and more choked with passion; his excitement gained
upon his hearers until both Nicolaes Beresteyn his friend
and Jan the paid spy and messenger felt their blood
tingling within their veins, their throats parched, their
eyes burning as if they had been seared with living fire.
The tallow-candle flickered in its socket, a thin draught
from the flimsily constructed window blew its flame
hither and thither, so that it lit up fitfully the faces of
those three men drawn closely together now in a bond
of ambition and of hate.
"'Tis splendidly thought out," said Beresteyn at last
with a sigh of satisfaction. " I do not see how the plan
can fail."
"Fail ? " exclaimed Stoutenburg with a triumphant
laugh, "of course it cannot fail! There are practically
no risks even. The place is lonely, the molens a splendid
rallying point. We can all reach it by different routes
and assemble there to-morrow eve or early the next
day. That would give us another day and night at least
to complete our preparations. I have forty barrels of
gunpowder stowed away at the mill, I have new pattern
muskets, cullivers, swords and pistols .. . gifts to me
from the Archduchess Isabella . . . enough for our coup
. . . Fail ? How can we fail when everything has been
planned, everything thought out ? and when God has
so clearly shown that He is on our side ? "
Jan said nothing for the moment; he lowered his eyes
not caring just then to encounter those of his leader,

202

A SPY FROM THE CAMP

for the remembrance had suddenly flashed through his
mind of that other day--not so far distant yet--when
everything too had been planned, everything thought
out and failure had brought about untold misery and a
rich harvest for the scaffold.
Beresteyn too was silent now. Something of his
friend's enthusiasm was also coursing through his veins,
but with him it was only the enthusiasm of ambition,
of discontent, of a passion for intrigue, for plots and
conspiracies, for tearing down one form of government
in order to make room for another-but his enthusiasm
was not kept at fever-heat by that all-powerful fire of
hate which made Stoutenburg forget everything save his
desire for revenge.
The latter had pushed his chair impatiently aside and
now was pacing up and down the narrow room like some
caged feline creature waiting for its meal. Beresteyn's
silence seemed to irritate him for he threw from time to
time quick, furtive glances on his friend.
" Nicolaes, why don't you speak ? " he said with
sudden impatience.
" I was thinking of Gilda," replied the other dully.
" Gilda ? Why of her ? "
"That knave has betrayed me I am sure. He has
hidden her away somewhere, not meaning to stick to his
bargain with me, and then has come back to Haarlem
in order to see if he can extort a large ransom for her
from my father."
" Bah ! He wouldn't dare .. . "
"Then why is he here ? " exclaimed Beresteyn hotly.
"Gilda should be in his charge ! If he is here, where
is Gilda ? "
" Good God, man !" ejaculated Stoutenburg, pausing
in his restless walk and looking somewhat dazed on his
friend, as if he were just waking from some feverish
sleep. "Good God ! you do not think that . . ."
" That her life is in danger from that knave ? " rejoined
Beresteyn quietly. " Well, no ! I do not think that . . .
I do not know what to think . . . but there is a hint of
danger in that rascal's presence here in Haarlem to-day."

20o3

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

He rose and mechanically re-adjusted his cloak and
looked round for his hat.
" What are you going to do ? " asked Stoutenburg.
"Find the knave," retorted the other, "and wring
his neck if he does not give some satisfactory account of
Gilda."
" No ! no ! you must not do that . . . not in a public
place at any rate . . . the rascal would betray you if
you quarrelled with him . . . or worse still you would
betray yourself. Think what it would mean to us now-
at this moment if it were known that you had a hand
in the abduction of your sister . . . if she were traced
and found, think what that would mean-denunciation-
failure-the scaffold for us all ! "
" Must I leave her then at the mercy of a man who is
proved to be both a liar and a cheat ? "
" No I you shall not do that. Let me try and get speech
with him. He does not know me; and I think that I
could find out what double game he is playing and where
our own danger lies. Let me try and find him."
" How can you do that ? "
" You remember the incident on New Year's Eve,
when you and I traced that cursed adventurer to his
own doorstep ? "
" Yes ! "
"Then you remember the Spanish wench and the old
cripple to whom our man relinquished his lodgings on
that night."
" Certainly I do."
"Well! yesterday when the hour came for the rascal
to seize Gilda, I could not rest in this room. I wanted
to see, to know what was going on. Gilda means so much
to me, that remorse I think played havoc with my pru-
dence then and I went out into the Groote Markt to watch
her come out of church. I followed her at a little distance
and saw her walking rapidly along the bank of the Oude
Gracht. She was accosted by a woman who spoke to
her from out the depths of the narrow passage which leads
to the disused chapel of St. Pieter. Gilda was quickly
captured by the brute whom you had paid to do this

204

A SPY FROM THE CAMP

monstrous deed, and I stood by like an abject coward,
not raising a hand to save her from this cruel outrage."
He paused a moment and passed his hand across his
brow as if to chase away the bitter and insistent recol-
lection of that crime of which he had been the chief
instigator.
" Why do you tell me all that ? " queried Beresteyn
sombrely. " What I did, I did for you and for the triumph
of your cause."
"I know, I know," replied Stoutenburg with a sigh,
" may Heaven reward you for the sacrifice. But I merely
acted for mine own selfish ends, for my ambition and
my revenge. I love Gilda beyond all else on earth, yet
I saw her sacrificed for me and did not raise a finger
to save her."
" It is too late for remorse," retorted Beresteyn roughly,
" if Gilda had been free to speak of what she heard in the
cathedral on New Year's Eve, you and I to-day would
have had to flee the country as you fled from it once
before, branded as traitors, re-captured mayhap, dragged
before the tribunal of a man who has already shown
that he knows no mercy. Gilda's freedom would have
meant for you, for me, for Heemskerk, van Does and
all the others, torture first and a traitor's death at the
last."
" You need not remind me of that," rejoined Stouten-
burg more calmly. " Gilda has been sacrificed for me and
by God I will requite her for all that she has endured !
My life, my love are hers and as soon as the law sets me
free to marry she will have a proud position higher than
that of any other woman in the land."
" For the moment she is at the mercy of that black-
guard . . ."
" And I tell you that I can find out where she is."
" How ? "
"The woman who accosted Gilda last night, who
acted for the knave as a decoy, was the Spanish wench
whom he had befriended the night before."
" You saw her ? "
" Quite distinctly. She passed close to me when she

205

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

ran off after having done her work. No doubt she is
that rascal's sweetheart and will know of his movements
and of his plans. Money or threats should help me to
extract something from her."
" But where can you find her ? "
" At the same lodgings where she has been these two
nights, I feel sure."
" It is worth trying," mused Beresteyn.
" And in the meanwhile we must not lose sight of our
knave. Jan, my good man, that shall be your work.
Mynheer Beresteyn will be good enough to go with you
as far as the tapperij of the 'Lame Cow,' and there
point out to you a man whom it will be your duty to
follow step by step this evening until you find out where
he intends to pitch his tent for the night. You under-
stand ? "
" Yes, my lord," said Jan, smothering as best he could
an involuntary sigh of weariness.
"It is all for the ultimate triumph of our revenge,
good Jan," quoth Stoutenburg significantly, " the work of
watching which you will do this night is at least as import-
ant as that which you have so bravely accomplished
these past four days. The question is, have you strength
left to do it ? "
Indeed the question seemed unnecessary now. At the
word " revenge" Jan had already straightened out his
long, lean figure and though traces of fatigue might still
linger in his drawn face, it was obvious that the spirit
within was prepared to fight all bodily weaknesses.
"There is enough strength in me, my lord," he said
simply, " to do your bidding now as always for the welfare
of Holland and the triumph of our faith:"
After which Stoutenburg put out the light, and with a
final curt word to Jan and an appeal to Beresteyn he
led the way out of the room, down the stairs and finally
into the street.

zo6

CHAPTER XXIV

THE BIRTH OF HATE

HERE the three men parted; Beresteyn and Jan to go
to the " Lame Cow" where the latter was to begin his
work of keeping track of Diogenes, and Stoutenburg
to find his way to that squalid lodging house which was
situate at the bottom of the Kleine Hout Straat where it
abuts on the Oude Gracht.
It had been somewhat impulsively that he had sug-
gested to Beresteyn that he would endeavour to obtain
some information from the Spanish wench as to Diogenes'
plans and movements and the whereabouts of Gilda, and
now that he was alone with more sober thoughts he
realised that the suggestion had not been over-backed
by reason. Still as Beresteyn had said: there could be
no harm in seeking out the girl. Stoutenburg was quite
satisfied in his mind that she must be the rascal's sweet-
heart, else she had not lent him an helping hand in the
abduction of Gilda, and since he himself was well supplied
with money through the generosity of his rich friends
in Haarlem, he had no doubt that if the wench knew
anything at all about the rogue, she could easily be
threatened first, then bribed and cajoled into telling all
that she knew.
Luck in this chose to favour the Lord of Stoutenburg,
for the girl was on the doorstep when he finally reached
the house where two nights ago a young soldier of fortune
had so generously given up his lodgings to a miserable
pair of beggars. He had just been vaguely wondering
how best he could--without endangering his own safety-
207

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
obtain information as to which particular warren in the
house she and her father inhabited, when he saw her
standing under the lintel of the door, her meagre figure
faintly lit ap by the glimmer of a street lamp fixed in
the wall just above her head.
" I would have speech with thee," he said in his usual
peremptory manner as soon as he had approached her,
" show me the way to thy room."
Then as, like a frightened rabbit, she made ready to
run away to her burrow as quickly as she could, he seized
hold of her arm and reiterated roughly:
" I would have speech of thee, dost hear? Show me
the way to thy room at once. Thy safety and that of
thy father depend on thy obedience. There is close
search in the city just now for Spanish spies."
The girl's pale cheeks took on a more ashen hue, her
lips parted with a quickly smothered cry of terror. She
knew-as did every stranger in these Dutch cities just
now-that the words "Spanish spy" had a magical
effect on the placid tempers of their inhabitants, and
that many a harmless foreign wayfarer had suffered
imprisonment, aye and torture too, on the mere suspicion
of being a " Spanish spy."
"I have nothing to fear," she murmured under her
breath.
" Perhaps not," he rejoined, " but the man who shelters
and protects thee is under suspicion of abetting Spanish
spies. For his sake 'twere wiser if thou didst obey me."
Stoutenburg had every reason to congratulate himself
on his shrewd guess, for at his words all resistance on the
girl's part vanished, and though she began to tremble
in every limb and even for a moment seemed ready to
swoon, she murmured words which if incoherent certainly
sounded submissive, and then silently led the way up-
stairs. He followed her closely, stumbling behind her
in the dark, and as he mounted the ricketty steps he was
rapidly rehearsing in his mind what he would say to the
wench.
That the girl was that abominable villain's sweetheart
he was not for a moment in doubt, her submission just

THE BIRTH OF HATE

now, at the mere hint of the fellow's danger, showed the
depth of her love for him. Stoutenburg felt therefore
that his success in obtaining what information he wanted
would depend only on how much she knew. In any case
she must be amenable to a bribe for she seemed wretchedly
poor ; even in that brief glimpse which he had had of her
by the dim light of the street-door lamp, he could not
help but see how ragged was her kirtle and how pinched
and wan her face.
On the landing she paused and taking a key from
between the folds of her shift she opened the door of her
lodging and humbly begged the gracious mynheer to
enter. A tallow candle placed upon a chair threw its
feeble light upon the squalid abode, the white-washed
walls, the primitive bedstead in the corner made up of
deal planks and covered with a paillasse and a thin
blanket. From beneath that same blanket came the
gentle and fretful moanings of the old cripple.
But Stoutenburg was far too deeply engrossed in his
own affairs to take much note of his surroundings; as
soon as the girl had closed the door behind her, he called
her roughly to him and she-frightened and obedient-
came forward without a word, standing now before him,
with hanging arms and bowed head, whilst a slight shiver
shook her girlish form from time to time.
He dragged a chair out to the middle of the room and
sat himself astride upon it, his arms resting across the
back, his booted and spurred feet thrust out in front of
him, whilst his hollow, purple-rimmed eyes with their
feverish glow of ever-present inward excitement were
fixed upon the girl.
"I must tell thee, wench," he began abruptly, " that
I mean to be thy friend. No harm shall come to thee if
thou wilt answer truthfully certain questions which I
would ask of thee."
Then as she appeared too frightened to reply and
only cast a furtive, timorous glance on him, he continued
after a slight pause:
"The man who protected thee against the rabble the
other night, and who gave thee shelter afterwards, the
O

o209

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

man in whose bed thy crippled father lies at this moment
-he is thy sweetheart, is he not ? "
" What is that to you ? " she retorted sullenly.
"Nothing in itself," he said quietly. " I merely spoke
of it to show thee how much I know. Let me tell thee
at once that I was in the tavern with him on New Year's
Eve when his boon-companions told the tale of how he
had protected thee against a crowd; and that I was
in this very street not twenty paces away when in response
to thy appeal he gave up his room and his bed to thee,
and for thy sake paced the streets for several hours in the
middle of the night and in weather that must have frozen
the marrow in his bones."
" Well ? What of that ? " said the girl simply. " He
is kind and good, and hath that pity for the poor and
homeless which would grace many a noble gentleman."
"No doubt," he retorted dryly, " but a man will not
do all that for a wench, save in expectation of adequate
payment for his trouble and discomfort."
" What is that to you ? " she reiterated, with the same
sullen earnestness.
" Thou art in love with that fine gallant, eh, my girl ? "
he continued with a harsh, flippant laugh, " and art not
prepared to own to it. Well! I'll not press thee for a
confession. I am quite satisfied with thine evasive
answers. Let me but tell thee this; that the man whom
thou lovest is in deadly danger of his life."
"Great God, have pity on him!" she exclaimed
involuntarily.
" In a spirit of wanton mischief-for he is not so faithful
to thee as thou wouldst wish-he has abducted a lady
from this city, as thou well knowest, since thou didst lend
him thy help in the committal of this crime. Thou
seest," he added roughly, " that denials on thy part were
worse than useless, since I know everything. The lady's
father is an important magistrate in this city, he has
moved every process of the law so that he may mete
out an exemplary punishment to the blackguard who has
dared to filch his daughter. Hanging will be the most
merciful ending to thy lover's life, but Mynheer Beresteyn

210

THE BIRTH OF HATE

talks of the rack, of quartering and of the stake, and he is
a man of boundless influence in the administration of the
law."
" Lord, have mercy upon us," once again murmured
the wretched girl whose cheeks now looked grey and
shrunken; her lips were white and quivering and her
eyes with dilated pupils were fixed in horror on the har-
binger of this terrible news.
" He will have none on thy sweetheart, I'll warrant
thee unless . . ."
He paused significantly, measuring the effect of his
words and of that dramatic pause upon the tense sensi-
bilities of the girl.
" Unless . . . what ? " came almost as a dying murmur
from her parched throat.
" Unless thou wilt lend a hand to save him."
" I ? " she exclaimed pathetically, " I would give my
hand . . . my tongue . . . my sight . . . my life to
save him."
" Come ! " he said, " that's brave ! but it will not be
necessary to make quite so violent a sacrifice. I have
great power too in this city and great influence over the
bereaved father," he continued, lying unblushingly, "I
know that if I can restore his daughter to him within the
next four and twenty hours, I could prevail upon him to
give up pursuit of the villain who abducted her, and to
let him go free."
But these words were not yet fully out of his mouth,
before she had fallen on her knees before him, clasping
her thin hands together and raising up to his hard face
large, dark eyes that were brimful of tears.
" Will you do that then, O my gracious lord," she
pleaded. " Oh ! God will reward you if you will do this."
" How can I, thou crazy wench," he retorted, " how
can I restore the damsel to her sorrowing father when I
do not know where she is ? "
" But -"
" It is from thee I want to hear where the lady is."
" From me ? "
" Why yes ! of course! Thou art in the confidence

21I

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

of thy lover, and knowest where he keeps the lady hidden.
Tell me where she is, and I will pledge thee my word
that thou and he will have nothing more to fear."
" He is not my lover," she murmured dully, " nor am
I in his confidence."
She was still on her knees, but had fallen back on her
heels, with arms hanging limp and helpless by her side.
Hope so suddenly arisen had equally quickly died out of
her heart, and her pinched face expressed in every line
the despair and misery which had come in its wake.
" Come ! " he cried harshly, " play no tricks with me,
wench. Thou didst own to being the rascal's sweetheart."
" I owned to my love for him," she said simply, " not
to his love for me."
" I told thee that he will hang or burn unless thou art
willing to help him."
"And I told thee, gracious sir, that I would give my
life for him."
" Which is quite unnecessary. All I want is the
knowledge of where he keeps the lady whom he has
outraged."
" I cannot help you, mynheer, in that."
"Thou wilt not ! " he cried.
"I cannot," she reiterated gently. " I do not know
where she is."
"Will fifty guilders help thy memory ?" he sneered.
" Fifty guilders would mean ease and comfort to my
father and to me for many months to come. I would do
much for fifty guilders but I cannot tell that which I do
not know."
" An hundred guilders, girl, and the safety of thy
lover. Will that not tempt thee ? "
" Indeed, indeed, gracious sir," she moaned piteously,
" I swear to you that I do not know."
" Then dost perjure thyself and wilt rue it, wench,"
he exclaimed as he jumped to his feet, and with a loud
curse kicked the chair away from him.
The Lord of Stoutenburg was not a man who had been
taught to curb his temper ; he had always given way to
his passions, allowing them as the years went' on to master

212

THE BIRTH OF HATE

every tender feeling within him; for years now he had
sacrificed everything to them, to his ambition, to his
revenge, to his loves and hates. Now that this fool of a
girl tried to thwart him as he thought, he allowed his
fury against her full rein, to the exclusion of reason, of
prudence, or ordinary instincts of chivalry. He stooped
over her like a great, gaunt bird of prey and his thin
claw-like hand fastened itself on her thin shoulder.
"Thou liest, girl," he said hoarsely, " or art playing
with me ? Money thou shalt have. Name thy price.
I'll pay thee all that thou wouldst ask. I'll not believe
that thou dost not know ! Think of thy lover under
torture, on the rack, burnt at the stake. Hast ever seen
a man after he has been broken on the wheel ? his limbs
torn from their sockets, his chest sunken under the weights
-and the stake ? hast seen a heretic burnt alive . .. ? "
She gave a loud scream of agony : her hands went up to
her ears, her eyes stared out of her head like those of one
in a frenzy of terror.
"Pity! pity ! my lord, have pity! I swear that I do
not know."
"Verdomme!" he cried out in the madness of his
rage as with a cruel twist of his hand he threw the wretched
girl off her balance and sent her half-fainting, cowering on
the floor.
" Verdommt be thou, plepshurk," came in a ringing
voice from behind him.
The next moment he felt as if two grapnels made of
steel had fastened themselves on his shoulders and as if
a weight of irresistible power was pressing him down,
down on to his knees. His legs shook under him, his
bones seemed literally to be cracking beneath that iron
grip, and he had not the power to turn round in order
to see who his assailant was. The attack had taken him
wholly by surprise and it was only when his knees finally
gave way under him, and he too was down on the ground,
licking the dust of the floor-as he had forced the wretched
girl to do-that he had a moment's respite from that
cruel pressure and was able to turn in the direction whence
it had come.

213

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

Diogenes, with those wide shoulders of his squared out
to their full breadth, legs apart and arms crossed over his
mighty chest, was standing over him, his eyes aflame and
his moustache bristling till it stood out like the tusks of a
boar.
" Dondersteen ! " he exclaimed as he watched the other
man's long, lean figure thus sprawling on the ground,
" this is a pretty pass to which to bring this highly civilized
and cultured country. Men are beginning to browbeat
and strike the women now! Dondersteen !"
Stoutenburg, whose vocabulary of oaths was at least
as comprehensive as that of any foreign adventurer, had
-to its accompaniment-struggled at last to his feet.
"You . . ." he began as soon as he had partially
recovered his breath. But Diogenes putting up his hand
hastily interrupted him :
" Do not speak just now, mynheer," he said with his
wonted good humour. "Were you to speak now, I feel
that your words would not be characterized by that
dignity and courtesy which one would expect from so
noble a gbntleman."
"Smeerlap !- " began Stoutenburg once more.
"There now," rejoined the other with imperturbable
bonhomie, " what did I tell you ? Believe me, sir, 'tis
much the best to be silent if pleasant words fail to reach
one's lips."
" A truce on this nonsense, sir," quoth Stoutenburg
hotly, " you took me unawares-like a coward . .."
" Well said, mynheer ! Like a coward-that is just
how I took you-in the act of striking a miserable atom
of humanity-who is as defenceless as a sparrow."
" 'Tis ludicrous indeed to see a man of your calling
posing as the protector of women," retorted Stoutenburg
with a sneer. " But enough of this. You find me un-
armed at this moment, else you had already paid for this
impudent interference."
" I thank you, sir," said Diogenes as he swept the Lord
of Stoutenburg a deep, ironical bow, "I thank you for
thus momentarily withholding chastisement from my
unworthiness. When may I have the honour of calling

214

THE BIRTH OF HATE

on Your Magnificence in order that you might mete unto
me the punishment which I have so amply deserved ? "
"That chastisement will lose nothing by waiting,
since indeed your insolence passes belief," quoth Stouten-
burg hotly. " Now go!" he added, choosing not to
notice the wilfully impertinent attitude of the other man,
" leave me alone with this wench. My business is with her."
" So is mine, gracious lord," rejoined Diogenes with a
bland smile, " else I were not here. This room is mine-
perhaps Your Magnificence did not know that-you would
not like surely to remain my guest a moment longer than
you need."
" Of a truth I knew that the baggage was your sweet-
heart-else I had not come at all."
"Leave off insulting the girl, man," said Diogenes,
whose moustache bristled again, a sure sign that his
temper was on the boil, " she has told you the truth, she
knows nothing of the whereabouts of the noble lady who
hath disappeared from Haarlem. An you desire informa-
tion on that point you had best get it elsewhere."
But Stoutenburg had in the meanwhile succeeded in
recovering-at any rate partially-his presence of mind.
All his life he had been accustomed to treat these foreign
adventurers with the contempt which they deserved. In
the days of John of Barneveld's high position in the
State, his sons would never have dreamed of parleying
with the knaves, and if-which God forbid !-one of
them had dared then to lay hands on any member of the
High Advocate's family, hanging would certainly have
been the inevitable punishment of such insolence.
Something of that old haughtiness and pride of caste
crept into the attitude of the Lord of Stoutenburg now,
and prudence also suggested that he should feign to ignore
the rough usage which he had received at the hands of this
contemptible rascal. Though he was by no means un-
armed-for he never went abroad these days without a
poniard in his belt-he had, of a truth, no mind to engage
in a brawl with this young Hercules whose profession was
that of arms and who might consequently easily get the
better of him.

215

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

He made every effort therefore to remain calm and to
look as dignified as his disordered toilet would allow.
" You heard what I said to this girl ? " he queried,
speaking carelessly.
" You screamed loudly enough," replied Diogenes
lightly. "I heard you through the closed door. I
confess that I listened for quite a long while: your con-
versation greatly interested me. I only interfered when I
thought it necessary."
" So then I need not repeat what I said," quoth the
other lightly. "Hanging for you, my man, unless you
tell me where you have hidden Jongejuffrouw Beresteyn."
" I ? What have I to do with that noble lady, pray ? "
" It is futile to bandy words with me. I know every
circumstance of the disappearance of the lady, and could
denounce you to the authorities within half an hour, and
see you hanged for the outrage before sunrise."
"Then I do wonder," said Diogenes suavely, "that
Your Magnificence doth not do this, for of a truth you
must hate me fairly thoroughly by now."
" Hate you, man ? I'd gladly see you hang, or better
still broken on the wheel. But I must know from you
first where you have hidden the jongejuffrouw."
" If I am to hang anyway, sir, why should I trouble to
tell you ? "
"The lady is my affianced wife," said Stoutenburg
haughtily, " I have every right to demand an explanation
from you, why you are here when by the terms of your
contract with my friend Nicolaes Beresteyn you should at
this moment be on your way to Rotterdam, escorting the
jongejuffrouw to the house of Ben Isaje, the banker .. .
You see that I am well informed," he added impatiently,
seeing that Diogenes had become suddenly silent, and
that a curious shadow had spread over his persistently
smiling face.
" So well informed, sir," rejoined the latter after a
slight pause, and speaking more seriously than he had
done hitherto, " so well informed that I marvel you do
not know that by the terms of that same contract I pledged
my word to convey the jongejuffrouw safely to a certain

216

THE BIRTH OF HATE

spot and with all possible speed, but that further actions
on my part were to remain for mine own guidance. I
also pledged my word of honour that I would remain
silent about all these matters."
"Bah ! " broke in Stoutenburg roughly, " knaves like
you have no honour to pledge."
"No doubt, sir, you are the best judge of what a knave
would do."
" Insolent ... do you dare ... ?"
" If you like it better, sir, I'll say that I have parleyed
long enough with you to suit my temper. This room is
mine," he added speaking every whit as haughtily as did
the other man. " I have business with this wench, and
came here, desirous to speak with her alone, so I pray you
go ! this roof is too lowly to shelter the Lord of Stouten-
burg."
At mention of his name Stoutenburg's sunken cheeks
took on the colour of lead, and with a swift, instinctive
gesture, his hand flew to the hilt of the dagger under his
doublet. During his hot and brief quarrel with this
man, the thought had never entered his mind that his
identity might be known to his antagonist, that he-a
fugitive from justice and with a heavy price still upon
his head-was even now at the mercy of this contemptible
adventurer whom he had learnt to hate as he had never
hated a single human soul before now.
Prudence, however, was quick enough to warn him not
to betray himself completely. The knave obviously
suspected his identity-how he did that, Stoutenburg
could not conjecture, but after all he might only have
drawn a bow at a venture: it was important above all
not to let him see that that bow had struck home. There-
fore after the first instant of terror and surprise he resumed
as best he could his former haughty attitude, and said
with well-feigned carelessness:
"The Lord of Stoutenburg ? Do you expect his visit
then ? What have you to do with him ? 'Tis dangerous,
you know, to court his friendship just now."
" I do not court his friendship, sir," replied Diogenes
with his gently ironical smile, "the Lord of Stoutenburg

217

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

hath many enemies these days; and, methinks, that if it
came to a question of hanging he would stand at least
as good a chance of the gallows as I."
" No doubt an you knew how to lay hands on him,
you would be over ready tb denounce him to the Stadt-
holder for the sake of the blood-money which you would
receive for this act."
" Well played, my lord," retorted Diogenes with a
ringing laugh. " Dondersteen ! but you apparently think
me a fool as well as a knave. Lay my hands on the
Lord of Stoutenburg did you say? By St. Bavon, have I
not done so already ? aye ! and made him lick the dust
too, at my feet ? I could sell him to the Stadtholder
without further trouble-denounce him even now to the
authorities only that I do not happen to be a vendor of
swine-flesh-or else . .."
A. double cry interrupted the flow of Diogenes' wrathful
eloquence: a cry of rage from Stoutenburg and one of
terror from the girl, who all this while--not understanding
the cause and purport of the quarrel between the two
men-had been cowering in a remote corner of the room
anxious only to avoid observation, fearful lest she should
be seen.
But now she suddenly ran forward, swift as a deer,
unerring as a cat, and the next moment she had thrown
herself on the upraised arm of Stoutenburg in whose
hand gleamed the sharp steel of his dagger.
" Murder ! " she cried in a frenzy of horror. " Save
thyself I he will murder thee ! "
Diogenes, as was his wont, threw back his head and
sent his merry laugh echoing through the tumble-down
house from floor to floor, until, in response to that light-
heartedness which had burst forth in such a ringing
laugh, pallid faces were lifted wearily from toil, and around
thin, pinched lips the reflex of a smile came creeping over
the furrows caused by starvation and misery.
" Let go his arm, wench," he cried gaily, " he'll not
hurt me, never fear. Hatred has drawn a film over his
eyes and caused his hand to tremble. Put back your
poniard, my lord," he added lightly, " the penniless

z218

THE BIRTH OF HATE

adventurer and paid hireling is unworthy of your steel.
Keep it whetted for your own defence and for the pro-
tection of the gracious lady who has plighted her troth
to you."
" Name her not, man ! " cried Stoutenburg, whose arm
had dropped by his side, but whose voice was still hoarse
with the passion of hate which now consumed him.
" Is her name polluted through passing my lips ? Yet
is she under my protection, placed there by those who
should have guarded her honour with their life."
" Touch my future wife but with the tips of thy fingers,
plepshurk, and I'll hang thee on the nearest tree with mine
own hands."
"Wait to threaten, my lord, until you have the power:
until then go your way. I-the miserable rascal whom
you abhor, the knave whom you despise-do give you
your life and your freedom which, as you well know,
I hold at this moment in the hollow of my hand. But
remember that I give it you only because to my mind
one innocent woman has already suffered quite enough
because of you, without having to mourn the man whom
she loves and being widowed ere she is a wife. Because
of that you may go out of this room a free man-free to
pursue your tortuous aims and your ambitious schemes.
They are naught to me and I know nothing about them.
But this I do know-that a woman has been placed in my
charge by one who should deem her honour more sacred
than his own; in this infamy I now see that you too, my
lord, have had a hand. The lady, you say, is your future
wife, yet you placed her under my care--a knave, a
rascal-miserable plepshurk was the last epithet which
you applied to me-you ! who also should have guarded
her good name with your very life. To suit your own
ends, you entrusted her to me! Well! to suit mine
own I'll not let you approach her, until-having accom-
plished the errand for which I am being paid-I will
myself escort the lady back to her father. To this am I
also pledged ! and both these pledges do I mean to fulfil
and you, my lord, do but waste your time in arguing with
me."

219

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

The Lord of Stoutenburg had not attempted to interrupt
Diogenes in his long peroration. All the thoughts of
hatred and of revenge that sprang in his mind with every
word which this man uttered, he apparently thought
wisest to conceal for the moment.
Now that Diogenes, after he had finished speaking,
turned unceremoniously on his heel and left Stoutenburg
standing in the middle of the room, the latter hesitated
for a few minutes longer. Angry and contemptuous
words were all ready to his lips, but Diogenes was paying
no heed to him; he had drawn the girl with him to the
bedside of the cripple, and there began talking quietly
in whispers to her. Stoutenburg saw that he gave the
wench some money.
Smothering a final, comprehensive oath the noble lord
went quietly out of the room.
" How that man doth hate thee," whispered the girl
in awe-struck tones, as soon as she saw that the door
had closed behind him. "And I hate him, too," she
added, as she clenched her thin hands, "he is cruel,
coarse and evil."
" Cruel, coarse and evil ? " said Diogenes with a shrug
of his wide shoulders, " and yet there is a delicate, innocent
girl who loves him well enough to forget all his crimes
and to plight her troth to him. Women are strange
creatures, wench-'tis a wise philosopher who steers
widely clear of their path."

220

CHAPTER XXV

AN ARRANT KNAVE

IN the street below, not far from the house which he
had just quitted, Stoutenburg came on Nicolaes and
Jan ensconced in the dark against a wall. Beresteyn
quickly explained to his friend the reason of his presence
here.
" I came with Jan," he said, " because I wished to
speak with you without delay."
" Come as far as the cathedral then," said Stoutenburg
curtly. "I feel that in this vervloekte street the walls
and windows are full of ears and prying eyes. Jan," he
added, turning to the other man, " you must remain here
and on no account lose sight of that rascal when he
leaves this house. Follow him in and out of Haarlem,
and if you do not see me again to-night, join me at Ryswyk
as soon as you can, and come there prepared with full
knowledge of his plans."
Leaving Jan in observation the two men made their
way now in the direction of the Groote Markt. It was
still very cold, even though there was a slight suspicion
in the air of a coming change in the weather: a scent as
of the south wind blowing from over the estuaries, while
the snow beneath the feet had lost something of its
crispness and purity. The thaw had not yet set in, but
it was coquetting with the frost, challenging it to a
passage of arms, wherein either combatant might com-
pletely succumb.
As Stoutenburg had surmised the porch of the cathedral
was lonely and deserted, even the beggars had all gone
221

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

home for the night. A tiny lamp fixed into the panelling
of the wall flickered dimly in the draught. Stoutenburg
sat down on the wooden bench, dark and polished with
age, which ran alongside one of the walls, and with a
brusque and febrile gesture drew his friend down beside
him.
" Well ? " he asked in that nervous, jerky way of his,
" What is it ? "
" Something that will horrify you, just as it did me,"
replied Beresteyn, who spoke breathlessly as if under
stress of grave excitement. " When I parted from you
awhile ago, I did what you asked me to do. I posted
Jan outside the door of the tapperij after I had pointed
out our rogue to him through the glass door. Imagine
my astonishment when I saw that at that moment our
rascal was in close conversation with my father."
" With your father ? "
" With my father," reiterated Beresteyn. " That fool,
Hals, was with him, and there were another half dozen
busybodies sitting round the table. Our man was
evidently the centre of interest; I could not then hear
what was said, but at one moment I saw that my father
shook him cordially by the hand."
" Vervloekte Keerl ! " exclaimed Stoutenburg.
" I didn't know at first what to do. I didn't want to
go into the tapperij and to show myself just then, but at
all costs I wished to know what my father and that
arrant rascal had to say to one another. So, bidding
Jan on no account to lose sight of the man, I made my
way round to the service door behind the bar, and there
bribed one of the wenches to let me stand under the
lintel and to remain on the watch. It was quite dark
where I stood and I had a good view of the tapperij
without fear of being seen, and as my father and that
cursed adventurer were speaking loudly enough I could
hear all that they said."
"Well ? " queried Stoutenburg impatiently.
"Well, my friend," quoth Beresteyn with slow em-
phasis, " that vervloekte scoundrel was making a promise
to my father to bring Gilda safely bck to Haarlem,

222

AN ARRANT KNAVE

and my father was promising him a fortune as his re-
ward."
" I am not surprised," remarked Stoutenburg calmly.
" But .. ."
"That man, my friend, is the most astute blackguard
I have ever come across in the whole course of my life.
His English blood I imagine hath made him into a
thorough-going rogue. He has played you false-always
did mean to play you false if it suited his purpose ! By
God, Nicolaes ! what fools we were to trust one of these
foreign adventurers. They'll do anything for money, and
this man instead of being-as we thought-an exception
to the rule, is a worse scoundrel than any of his compeers.
He has simply taken Gilda a little way out" of Haarlem,
and then came back here to see what bargain he could
strike with your father for her return."
" Gilda is some way out of Haarlem," rejoined Beresteyn
thoughtfully. "Jan and I heard that knave talking to
his friend Hals later on. Hals was asking him to sup and
sleep at his house. But he declined the proffered bed,
though he accepted the supper : ' I have a journey before
me this night,' he said, 'and must leave the city at
moonrise.' It seemed to me that he meant to travel far."
" She may be still at Bennebrock, or mayhap at Leyden
-he could not have taken her further than that in the
time. Anyhow it would be quite easy for him to go back
to her during the night, and bring her into Haarlem to-
morrow. Friend ! " he added earnestly, " the situation
is intolerable-unthinkable ! After all that we have
done, the risks which we have taken, Gilda's return now-
a certain denunciation from her-and failure and death
once more stare us in the face, and this time more
insistently."
" It is unthinkable, as you say," cried Beresteyn
vehemently, " but the situation is not so hopeless as you
seem to think. I can go at once to my father and de-
nounce the rogue to him. I can tell him that I have
reason to believe that the man to whom he has just
promised a fortune for the return of Gilda is the very
man who hath abducted her."

223

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

" Impossible," said Stoutenburg calmly.
" Why ? "
" Your father would have the man arrested, he would
be searched, and papers and letters writ by you to Ben
Isaje of Rotterdam will be found in his possession. These
papers would proclaim you the prime mover in the out-
rage against your sister."
" True ! I had not thought of that. But, instead of
going to my father, I could denounce the rascal to the
city magistrate on suspicion of having abducted my
sister. Van der Meer would give me the command of the
town guard sent out to arrest him, I could search him
myself and take possession of all his papers ere I bring
him before the magistrate."
" Bah ! the magistracy of Haarlem moves with ponder-
ous slowness. While that oaf, Van der Meer, makes
preparations for sending out the town guard, our rogue
will slip through our fingers, and mayhap be back in
Haarlem with Gilda ere we find him again."
" Let me have Jan and one or two of Heemskerk's
mercenaries," urged Beresteyn, "we could seize him
and his papers to-night as soon as he leaves the city
gates."
" Then, out of revenge," said Stoutenburg, "he will
refuse to tell us what he hath done with Gilda."
" Bah 1" retorted Beresteyn cynically, "here in
Haarlem we can always apply torture."
" Then, if he speaks, Gilda can be back here in time to
denounce us all. No, no, my friend," continued Stouten-
burg firmly, " let us own at once that by trusting that
scoundrel we have run our heads into a noose out of
which only our wits can extricate us. We must meet
cunning with cunning, treachery if need be with treachery.
Gilda-of course--must not remain at the mercy of
brigands, but she must not be given her freedom to do
us the harm which she hath already threatened. Re-
member this, Nicolaes," he added, placing his hand upon
his friend's shoulder and forcing him to look straight
into his own feverishly glowing eyes, " remember that,
when all these troubles are over, Gilda will become my

224

AN ARRANT KNAVE

wife. The devotion of my entire life shall then com-
pensate her for the slight wrong which fate compels us
to do her at this moment. Will you remember that,
my friend ? "
" I do remember it," replied the other, " but . .."
"And will you try and trust me as you would your-
self ? "
" I do trust you, Willem, as I would trust myself ; only
tell me what you want to do."
" I want to bring that knave to the gallows without
compromising you and the success of our cause," said
Stoutenburg firmly.
" But how can you do it ? "
" That I do not know yet ; I have only vague thoughts
in my mind. But hate, remember, is a hard and very
efficient task-master, and I hate that man, Nicolaes, almost
as much as I hate the Prince of Orange. But 'tis the
Prince's death which I want first; because of this my
hatred of the rascal must lie dormant just a few days.
But it shall lose nothing by waiting, and already I see
before me visions of an exemplary revenge which shall
satisfy you and gratify my hate."
" Can I help you in any way ? "
" Not at present; I have no definite plans just now.
All I know is that we must possess ourselves of the
rascal's person as well as of Gilda without the risk of
compromising ourselves. In this, of course, we have
now Jan's valuable help; he is a splendid leader and
entirely trustworthy where the cause of his own hatred
against the Prince is served."
" And, of course, you have the thirty or forty men-
mercenaries and louts-whom Heemskerk, van Does and
the others have been recruiting for you."
" Exactly. I can easily detail half a dozen of them
to follow Jan. That is our first move, my good Beresteyn,"
he added emphatically, " to gain possession of Gilda, and
to capture the rascal. Only tell me this, what are the
papers now in that knave's possession which might com-
promise you if they were found ? "
" I had to write a letter to Ben Isaje, telling him to
P

225

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

convince himself that Gilda was safe and in good health,
ere he paid the rascal a sum of 3,000 guilders. This
letter is writ in mine own hand and signed with my name.
Then there is a formal order to Ben Isaje to pay over the
money, but that was writ in the usual way by the public
scrivener and is signed with the cypher which I always
use in all monetary transactions with the Jew. He keeps
these formal documents in his archives and all his clients
use a cypher in the same way."
" How is that formal order worded ? "
" As far as I remember it runs thus : ' In consideration
of valuable services rendered to me by the bearer of this
note, I desire you to pay him the sum of 3,000 guilders
out of my monies which lie with you at interest.' The
cypher signature consists of the words' Schwarzer Kato'
surmounted by a triangle."
"And is that cypher known to anyone save to Ben
Isaje? "
" Alas ! it is known to my father. We both use it for
private business transactions."
" But to Gilda ? " insisted Stoutenburg. "Would
Gilda know it if she saw it."
" She could not be certain of it . . . though, of course,
she might guess. 'Schwarzer Kato' is the name of a
tulip raised by my father, and the triangle is a sign used
sometimes by our house in business. But it would be
mere conjecture on her part."
" Then everything will still be for the best, never fear,
my good Beresteyn," exclaimed Stoutenburg, whose hard,
cruel face was glowing with excitement. " Chance indeed
has been on our side throughout this business. An you
will trust me to finish it now; you'll have no cause for
anxiety or regrets. Come ! let us find Jan at once!
I have a few orders to give him, and then mean to be on
my way to Ryswyk to-night."
He rose to his feet and now the glitter in his hollow
eyes appeared almost inhuman. He was a man whose
whole soul fed upon hatred, upon vengeance planned
and accomplished, upon desire for supreme power; and
at this moment his scheme for murdering the Stadtholder

226

AN ARRANT KNAVE

was backed by one for obtaining possession of the woman
he loved, and being revenged on the man who had insulted
and jeered at him.
Beresteyn, always ready to accept the leadership of his
friend, followed him in silence down the street. After
awhile they once more came upon Jan, who apparently
had never moved all this while from his post of observa-
tion.
"Well ? " asked Stoutenburg in a scarce audible
whisper, " has he not gone yet ? "
" Not yet ? " replied Jan.
Stoutenburg cast a quick, almost furtive glance in the
direction of the house where he had experienced such
dire humiliation a brief half hour ago. A curious whistling
sound escaped through his clenched teeth, a sound such
as many a wild beast makes when expectant of prey.
Then he drew Jan further away from the house, fearful
lest his words were wafted toward it on the wind.
" Keep him in sight, Jan," he commanded, "until he
goes to the house of Mynheer Hals in the Peuselaarsteg,
whither he means to go for supper. There you may
safely leave him for an hour, and go directly to the house
of my Lord of Heemskerk whom you know. Ask him for
half a dozen of his foreign mercenaries; tell him they are
for my immediate service. These men will then help
you to keep our knave in sight. He will leave Haarlem
at moonrise, and you must never lose his track for a
moment. Presently he should be escorting a lady in
the direction of Rotterdam. If he does this-if he travel
south toward that city, do not molest him, only keep
him in sight, and the moment he arrives at Rotterdam
come and report to me at Ryswyk. But," he added more
emphatically, " if at any time it appears to you that he is
turning back with the lady toward Haarlem come upon
him at once with your men and seize him together with
any companions he may have with him. You under-
stand ? "
"Perfectly, my lord. While he travels southwards
with the lady, we are only to keep him in sight ; when he
and the lady arrive at Rotterdam we must report to you

227

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

at Ryswyk, but the moment he turns back toward
Haarlem we are to fall on him and seize him and his
companions."
"The lady you will treat with the utmost respect,"
resumed Stoutenburg with an approving nod, " the
rascal and his companions you may mishandle as much as
you like, without, however, doing them mortal injury.
But, having taken the whole party prisoner, you will
forthwith convey them to the molens at Ryswyk, where
you will find me. Now is all that clear ? "
" Nothing could be clearer, my lord," repeated Jan
firmly. "We follow him while he travels south, but
seize him with his company and the lady if he turn back
toward Haarlem. Nothing could be easier."
" You will not let him slip through your fingers, Jan ? "
said Stoutenburg earnestly.
Jan laughed and shrugged his shoulders.
"You said that this work would help to forward our
cause," he said simply. " I ask no questions. I believe
you and obey."
"That's brave ! And you will take great care of the
lady, when she falls into your hands ? "
"I understand that she is my lord's future lady,"
rejoined Jan, with the same calm simplicity which makes
the perfect soldier and the perfect servant, and which
promised obedience without murmur and without
question.
" Yes, Jan. The lady is my future wife," said Stouten-
burg. "Treat her as such. As for the man . . . I
want him alive . . . do not kill him, Jan, even if he
provoke you. And he will do that by his insolence, I
know."
" My lord shall have his enemy alive," said Jan, "a
helpless prisoner . . . but alive."
" Then good luck to you, Jan," concluded Stoutenburg
with a sigh of satisfaction. " I am well pleased with you.
In the near future I shall be happy to remember that the
high offices of State and those around my person must
be filled by those who have well deserved of them."
He put out his thin, nervy hand and Jan fell on one

228

AN ARRANT KNAVE 229
knee in order to kiss it with fervour and respect. The
son of John of Barneveld could still count on the loyalty
of a few who believed in him, and who looked on his
crimes as a necessary means to a glorious end.
A few moments later Beresteyn and Stoutenburg had
disappeared in the darkness of the narrow street, and
Jan remained alone at his post of observation.

CHAPTER XXVI

BACK TO HOUDEKERK

AND now back once more in the kingdom of the night
and of the frost, of the darkness and of silence, back
along the ice ways on a swift and uninterrupted flight.
The moon is less kind now, fitful and coy; she will
not peep out from behind the banks of clouds save at
rare intervals ; and the clouds are heavy; great billows,
clumsy in shape as if weighted with lead; the moon
plays a restless game of hide and seek amongst them for
the bewilderment of the skater, to whom last night she
was so kind.
They come tumbling in more and more thickly from
the south-those clouds--driven more furiously by the
gusty wind. Brother north-easter has gone to rest, it is
the turn of the south wind now-not the soft south wind
of summer, but a turbulent and arrogant fellow who
bellows as loudly as he can, and who means to have a
frolic in this world of ice and snow from which his colder
brethren have exiled him until now.
Straight at the head of the skater, it expended the
brunt of its fury, sending his hat flying in one direction
and in wanton delight leading him into a mad chase after
it; then when once more he was on his way-hat in
hand this time--it tore with impish glee at his hair,
impeded his movements, blew doublet and sash awry.
What a chase! what a fight! what a run! But
Dondersteen! we do defy thee, O frolicsome south
wind ! aye, and the darkness too ! Back to Houdekerk,
the first stage on the road to fortune.
230

BACK TO HOUDEKERK

It is not nearly so cold now that brother north-easter
has yielded to his madcap brother from the south ! gusty
and rough and a hand-to-hand fight for progress all the
time, with tears running down the cheeks, and breath
coming in gasps from the chest ! It is not so cold, and
the ice is less crisp, its smooth skin is furrowed and
wrinkled, soft and woolly beneath the touch of the steel
blades; but the snow still lies thickly upon the low-
lying ground, and holds in its luminous embrace all the
reflections which the capricious moon will lend it.
For the first half hour, while the moon was still very
brilliant and the night air very still, it seemed to Diogenes
as if the loneliness around him was only fictitious, as if
somewhere--far away mayhap-men moved in the same
way as he did, swiftly and silently over the surface of
the ice. It seemed to him in fact that he was being
followed.
He tried to make sure of this, straining his ears to
listen, and now and then he caught very distinctly the
sound of the metallic click of several pairs of skates. His
senses, trained to over-acuteness through years of hard
fighting and of campaigning, could not easily be deceived ;
and presently there was no doubt in his mind that Nicolaes
Beresteyn or the Lord of Stoutenburg had set spies upon
his track.
This knowledge caused him only to set his teeth, and
to strike out more vigorously and more rapidly than
before; those who followed him were fairly numerous-
over half a dozen he reckoned-the only chance of evading
them was therefore in flight. He took to noting the
rolling banks of cloud with a more satisfied eye, and
when, after the first hour or so, the light of the waning
moon became more dim and even at times disappeared
completely, he took the first opportunity that presented
itself of making a, detour over a backwater of the Meer,
which he knew must bewilder his pursuers.
Whether the pursuit was continued after that, he
could not say. His eyes trying to pierce the gloom
could tell him nothing; but there were many intricate
little by-ways just south of the Meer over backwaters

231

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

and natural canals, which he knew well, and over these
he started on an eccentric and puzzling career which
was bound to baffle the spies on his track.
Whenever he spoke subsequently of the many adven-
tures which befell him during the first days of this memor-
able New Year, he never was very explicit on the subject
of this night's run back to Houdekerk.
As soon as he had rid himself-as he thought-of his
pursuers, he allowed his mind to become more and more
absorbed in the great problem which confronted him
since he had pledged his word to Mynheer Beresteyn
to bring the jongejuffrouw safely back to him.
He now moved more mechanically over the iceways,
taking no account of time or space or distance, only
noting with the mere eye of instinct the various land-
marks which loomed up from time to time out of the
fast gathering darkness.
This coming darkness he welcomed, for he knew his
way well, and it would prove his staunch ally against
pursuit. For the rest he was conscious neither of cold,
of hunger nor of fatigue. Pleasant thoughts helped to
cheer his spirits and to give strength to his limbs. His
brief visit to Haarlem had indeed been fruitful of experi-
ences. A problem confronted him which he had made
up his mind to solve during his progress across the ice
in the night. How to keep his word to Nicolaes Beresteyn,
and yet bring the jongejuffrouw safely back to her
father.
She would not, of course, willingly follow him, and his
would once again be the uncongenial task of carrying
her off by force if he was to succeed in his new venture.
A fortune if he brought her back !. That sounded
simple enough, and the thought of it caused the phil-
osopher's blood to tingle with delight.
A fortune if he brought her back! It would have
to be done after he had handed her over into the care
of Mynheer Ben Isaje at Rotterdam. He was pledged
to do that, but once this was accomplished-his word
to Nicolaes Beresteyn would be redeemed.
A fortune if he brought her back ! And when he had

232

BACK TO HOUDEKERK

brought her back she would tell of his share in her abduc-
tion, and instead of the fortune mayhap the gallows
would be meted out to him.
'Twas a puzzle indeed, a hard nut for a philosopher
to crack. It would be the work of an adventurer, of a
man accustomed to take every risk on the mere chance
of success.
But Gilda's image never left him for one moment while
his thoughts were busy with that difficult problem. For
the first time now he realized the utter pathos of her
helplessness. The proud little vixen, as he had dubbed
her a while ago, was after all but a poor defenceless girl
tossed hither and thither just to suit the ambitions of
men. Did she really love that unscrupulous and cruel
Stoutenburg, he wondered. Surely she must love him,
for she did not look the kind of woman who would plight
her troth against her will. She loved him and would
marry him, her small white hand, which had the subtle
fragrance of tulips, would be placed in one which was
deeply stained with blood.
Poor young vixen, with the sharp tongue that knew
how to hurt and the blue eyes that could probe a wound
like steel ! It was strange to think that their soft glances
were reserved for a man whose heart was more filled
with hate for men than with love for one woman.
" If I loved you, little vixen," he once murmured
apostrophizing the elusive vision which lightened the
darkness around him, " if I loved you, I would break
my word to that dastard who is your brother . . . I
would not take you to Rotterdam to further his ambition,
but I would carry you off to please myself. I would
take you to some distant land, mayhap to my unknown
father's home in England, where the sounds of strife
and hatred amongst men would only come as a faint
and intangible echo. I would take you to where roses
bloom in profusion, and where in the spring the petals
of apple-blossoms would cover you like a mantle of
fragrant snow. There I would teach that sharp tongue
of yours to murmur words of tenderness and those
perfect blue eyes to close in the ecstasy of a kiss. But,"

233

234 THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
he added with his habitual light-hearted laugh, "I do
not love you, little vixen, for heigh-ho! if I did 'twere
hard for my peace of mind."

When Diogenes neared the town of Leyden he heard
its church clocks ring out the hour of three. Close by
the city walls he took off his skates, preferring to walk
the short league which lay between him and Houdekerk.
He was more tired than he cared to own even to him-
self, and the last tramp along the road was inexpressibly
wearisome. But he had seen or heard nothing more of
his pursuers; he was quite convinced that they had
lost track of him some hours ago. The south wind
blew in heavy gusts from over the marshlands far away,
and the half-melted snow clung sticky and dank against
the soles and heels of his boots. A smell of dampness
in the air proclaimed the coming triumph of the thaw.
The roads, thought Diogenes, would be heavy on the
morrow, impassable mayhap to a sledge, and the jonge-
juffrouw would have to travel in great discomfort in a
jolting vehicle.
At last in the near distance a number of tiny lights
proclaimed the presence of a group of windmills. It was
in one of these that Pythagoras and Socrates had been
ordered to ask for shelter-in the fifth one down the
road, which stood somewhat isolated from the others;
even now its long, weird arms showed like heavy lines
of ink upon the black background of the sky.
Diogenes almost fell up against the door; he could
hardly stand. But the miller was on the look-out for
him, having slept only with half an eye, waiting for the
stranger whose emissaries had already paid him well.
He carried a lanthorn and a bunch of keys; his thin,
sharp head was surmounted with a cotton nightcap and
his feet were encased in thick woollen hose.
It took him some time to undo the many heavy bolts
which protected the molens against the unwelcome visits
of night marauders, and before he pushed back the final
one, he peered through a tiny judas in the door and in a
querulous voice asked the belated traveller's name.

BACK TO HOUDEKERK

" Never mind my name," quoth Diogenes impatiently,
"and open thy door, miller, ere I break it in. I am
as tired as a nag, as thirsty as a dog and as hungry as a
cat. The jongejuffrouw is I trust safe: I am her major
domo and faithful servant, so open quickly, or thy shoulder
will have to smart for the delay."
I have Diogenes' own assurance that the miller was
thereupon both obedient and prompt. He--like all his
compeers in the neighbourhood-found but scanty living
in the grinding of corn for the neighbouring peasantry,
there was too much competition nowadays and work
had not multiplied in proportion. Optimists said that
in a few years time the paralysing effects of the constant
struggle against Spain would begin to wear off, that the
tilling of the soil would once more become a profitable
occupation and that the molens which now stood idle
through many days in the year would once more become
a vast storehouse of revenue for those who had continued
to work them.
But in the meanwhile the millers and their families
were oft on the verge of starvation, and some of them
eked out a precarious livelihood by taking in wayfarers
who were on their way to and from the cities and had
sundry reasons-into which it was best not to inquire-
for preferring to sleep and eat at one of these out-of-the-
way places rather than in one of the city hostelries.
Diogenes had made previous acquaintance with his
present landlord; he knew him to be a man of discretion
and of boundless cupidity, two very useful qualities
when there is a secret to be kept and plenty of money
wherewith to guard it.
Therefore did Diogenes order his companions to
convey the jongejuffrouw to the molens of Mynheer
Patz, and there to keep guard over her until his own
return.
Patz looked well after his belated guest's material
comfort. There was some bread and cheese and a large
mug of ale waiting for him in the wheel-house and a
clean straw paillasse in a corner. The place smelt sweetly
of freshly ground corn, of flour and of dry barley and

235

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

maize, and a thin white coating of flour-soft to the
touch as velvet-lay over everything.
Diogenes ate and drank and asked news of the jonge-
juffrouw. She was well but seemed over sad, the miller
explained; but his wife had prepared a comfortable bed
for her in the room next to the tiny kitchen. It was
quite warm there and Mevrouw Patz had spread her
one pair of linen sheets over the bed. The jongejuffrouw's
serving woman was asleep on the kitchen floor; she
declared herself greatly ill-used, and had gone to sleep
vowing that she was so uncomfortable she would never
be able to close an eye.
As for the two varlets who had accompanied the noble
lady, they were stretched out on a freshly made bed of
straw in the weighing-room.
Patz and his wife seemed to have felt great sympathy
for the jongejuffrouw, and Diogenes had reason to con-
gratulate himself that she was moneyless, else she would
have found it easy enough to bribe the over-willing pair
into helping her to regain her home.
He dreamt of her all night; her voice rang in his ear
right through the soughing of the wind which beat against
the ill-fitting windowq of the wheel-house. Alternately
in his dream she reviled him, pleaded with him, heaped
insults upon him, but he was securely bound and gagged
and could not reply to her insults or repulse her plead-
ings. He made frantic efforts to tear the gag from his
mouth, for he wished to tell her that he had not lost his
heart to her and cared nothing for the misery which she
felt.

236

CHAPTER XXVII

THENCE TO ROTTERDAM

HE only caught sight of the jongejuffrouw later on in
the morning when she came out of the molens and stepped
into the sledge which stood waiting for her at the door.
The thaw had not been sufficiently heavy, nor had it
lasted a sufficient number of hours to make a deep impres-
sion on the thick covering of snow which still lay over the
roads. The best and quickest mode of travelling-at
any rate for the next few hours-would still be by sledge,
the intervening half-dozen leagues that lay between
Houdekerk and Rotterdam could be easily covered in
the day provided an early start was made and no long
halts allowed for meals.
Diogenes had made arrangements for the start to be
made by seven o'clock. A dull light of pale rosy grey
hung over the snow-covered landscape, and far away
on the horizon line that same rose-grey light was just
assuming a more brilliant hue. He sent Mevrouw Patz
up to the jongejuffrouw to acquaint her with the plans
for the day, and to beg her to give these her approval.
Mevrouw Patz returned with the message that the
jongejuffrouw was ready to start at any hour which
Mynheer would command and was otherwise prepared
to obey him in all things.
So Diogenes, standing well out of sight, watched Gilda
as she came out of the door of the molens and remained
for one moment quite still, waiting for the sledge to draw
up. She looked fragile this morning, he thought, and her
face looked tiny and very pale within the soft frame
237

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

of the fur hood which covered her head. For a second
or two it seemed to him as if she was looking round
somewhat anxiously, with a frown upon her smooth
forehead-puzzled and almost frightened--as if she
expected and at the same time feared to see some one or
something.
The next second the cloud appeared to lift from her
face and Diogenes even thought-but in this he may
have been mistaken-that a sigh of relief escaped her
lips.
After that she stepped into the sledge, closely followed
by Maria.
Pythagoras and Socrates had been well drilled in their
duties toward the jongejuffrouw and Diogenes noted
with satisfaction that his brother philosophers did their
best to make the lady as comfortable as possible with a
pillow or two bought at Leyden the day previously and
the warm rugs from Haarlem which they wrapped care-
fully round her feet. Maria, dignified and unbending,
did her best to prevent those rascals from doing their
duty in this manner, but soon her own wants got the better
of her pride, and shivering with cold she was glad enough
to allow Pythagoras to roll a thick horse-cloth about her
knees.
A few moments later a start was made to the accom-
paniment of lusty cheering from the miller and his wife,
both of whom were pleasant-even obsequious to the
last.
The stolid peasant who held the reins urged his horses
on to a brisk trot as soon as they had reached the flat
open road. The three philosophers rode at some little
distance behind the sledge, ready only to push forward
if some marauder or footpad showed signs of molesting
the sledge.
Diogenes caught only a few brief glimpses of the jonge-
luffrouw during the day; once at Zegwaard where there
was a halt for dinner, then at Zevenhuisen and Hillegers-
berg where horses and men were ready for a rest. But
she never seemed to see him, passing quickly in and out
of the small huts or cottages to which Pythagoras or

238

THENCE TO ROTTERDAM 239
Socrates escorted her from a respectful distance. She
never spoke to either of these worthies on those occasions,
nor did she question any orders for halting or re-starting.
To those who attended on her, however, at the halting
places, to the cottagers or millers who brought her milk
and bread to eat she was graciousness itself, and whenever
it was time to go, Diogenes before leaving had invariably
to listen to the loud praises of the beautiful jongejuffrouw
with the sweet, sad face.
As to his own existence, she seemed hardly aware of
it; at Zevenhuisen, when she went back to the sledge,
Diogenes was not very far from where she passed. More-
over he was quite sure that she had seen him, for her
head was turned straight in the direction where he stood,
hat in hand, waiting to see her comfortably settled in the
sledge, before remounting. It was in the early part of
the afternoon and once more bitterly cold-no doubt
she felt the return of the frost, for she seemed to give
a little shiver and pulled the hood more closely over her
face.
The roads had been very heavy earlier in the day with
their carpet of partially melted snow, but now this surface
had frozen once more and the track was slippery like
glass under the sledge, but terribly trying for the horses.
Progress was necessarily slow and wearisome both to
man and beast, and the shades of evening were beginning
to gather in very fast when at last the wooden spire of
Rotterdam's Groote Kerk emerged out of the frozen
mist.
Diogenes-as he had done before at Leyden and at
Zegwaard-pushed on ahead now; he wanted to reach
the house of Ben Isaje in advance of the jongejuffrouw
and prepare the Hebraic gentleman against her coming.
The little town with its intricate network of narrow
streets intersected by canals did not seem imposing to
the eye. Diogenes marvelled with what thoughts the
jongejuffrouw would survey it-wondering no doubt if it
would prove the end of her journey or merely a halt on
the way to some other place more distant still from her
home.

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

Ben Isaje appeared to be a person of some consequence
in Rotterdam, for the moment he questioned a passer-by
as to where the Jewish mynheer resided, there were
plenty of willing tongues ready to give him information.
Having followed accurately the instructions which were
given to him, Diogenes found himself presently at the
top of a street which was so narrow that he reckoned
if he stretched out his legs, his feet would be knocking
against opposite walls. Anyhow, it looked almost impas-
sable for a rider. He peered down it somewhat dubiously.
It was very badly lighted; two feeble lamps alone glim-
mered at either end of it, and not a soul was in sight.
Close to where his horse was standing at the corner
of that same street the word "Tapperij " writ in bold
letters and well lit by a lamp placed conveniently above
it, invited the tired wayfarer to enter. This philosopher
was not the man to refuse so insinuating an invitation.
He dismounted and leaving his horse in charge of an
ostler, he entered the tap-room of the tiny hostel and,
being both tired and thirsty, he refreshed himself with a
draught of good Rhyn wine.
After which he collected more information about the
house of Mynheer Ben Isaje. It was situate about midway
down that narrow street round the corner, and was easily
distinguishable through its crooked and woe-begone
appearance, and the closely shuttered projecting window
on the ground floor.
A very few minutes later Diogenes had identified the
house from the several descriptions which had been given
him. Ben Isaje's abode proved to be a tiny shop with a
tall pointed gable sitting above it like a sugar-loaf hat.
Its low casement window was securely barred with stout
wooden shutters, held in place by thick iron bars. The
upper part of the house looked to be at perpetual enmity
with the lower, for it did not sit straight, or even securely
above the humble ground floor below. The upper floor
moreover projected a good three feet over the front door
and the shop window, whilst the single gable sat askew
over the lot.
From the house itself--as Diogenes stood somewhat

240

THENCE TO ROTTERDAM

doubtfully before it-there came the pungent odour of
fried onions, and from the one next door an equally
insistent one of damp leather. The philosopher thought
that it was high time to swear, and this he did lustily,
anathematizing in one comprehensive oath every dirty
Hebrew and every insalubrious Dutch city that he had
ever come across.
After which he examined the abode of Mynheer Ben
Isaje more closely. In the pointed gable, just under the
roof, a tiny window with a light behind it seemed to be
blinking out of the darkness like the single eye of some
inebriate loafer. Seeing that the small casement was
partially open and concluding that some one at any rate
must be making use of that light up there, Diogenes
at last made up his mind to knock at the door; and as
there was no knocker and he never carried a riding whip
he gave the substantial oak panel a vigorous kick with his
boot.
Whereupon the light up above immediately went out,
just as if the one-eyed inebriate had dropped off to
sleep.
This sudden extinguishing of the light, however, only
served to prove to Diogenes that some one was up and
astir inside the house, so without more ado he proceeded
to pound more forcibly against the door with his foot,
to shout at the top of his voice, and generally to make
a rousing noise--an art of which he was past master.
Soon he heard a soft grating behind the judas, and he
felt-more than he saw-that a pair of eyes were peering
at him from within.
" Open, Mynheer Ben Isaje," he cried loudly and per-
emptorily, " ere I rouse this entire evil-smelling neigh-
bourhood with my calls. Open I tell you ere I break in
your door first and your nose-which I suspect to be
over long and over ruddy-afterwards."
"'Tis too late to transact business now," came in a
feeble high-pitched voice from behind the narrow judas,
" too late and too dark. The shop is closed."
" 'Tis not with your shop that I have to do, master,"
quoth Diogenes impatiently, " but with yourself, if indeed

241

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

you are Mynheer Ben Isaje, as I gravely suspect that
you are."
" What do you want with Ben Isaje ? " queried the
timorous voice, " he hath gone home for the night. His
house is situate . . ."
" His house shall be verdommt if you parley any
longer behind that grating, man; aye and this shop too,
for if you do not open that door immediately I will break
the windows, for my business brooks no delay, and I
must needs get into this house as best I can."
But despite this threat, no attempt was made to draw
the bolts from within, whereupon Diogenes, whose stock
of patience was never inexhaustible, and who moreover
wished to give value to his threats, took a step back-
wards and then with a sudden spring threw his whole
weight against the oak door; a proceeding which caused
the tumbledown house to shake upon its foundations.
The next moment the timorous voice was once more
raised behind the judas:
" Kindly have patience, gentle sir. I was even now
about to open."
Diogenes heard the drawing of more than one heavy
bolt, then the grinding of a key in the lock; after which
the door was partially opened, and a thin face with hooked
nose and sunken cheeks appeared in the aperture.
To imagine that any man could hold a door against
Diogenes when he desired to pass through it was to be
totally unacquainted with that philosopher. He certainly
would have smashed in the door of Ben Isaje's abode
with his powerful shoulders had it been kept persistently
closed against him; but as it was, he only gave it a push
with his knee, flinging it wide open thereby, and then
stepped coolly into the narrow ill-lighted passage.
There was a blank wall each side of him, and a door
lower down on the left; straight ahead a narrow ladder-
like staircase was half lost in the gloom.
The anxious janitor had hastily retreated down the
dark passage at sight of the towering figure which now
confronted him, and in his fright he must have dropped
the lanthorn which apparently he had been carrying,

242

THENCE TO ROTTERDAM 243
There it lay on the floor, fortunately still alight, so
Diogenes picked it up and holding it high above his head
he took a closer survey of the man.
" You are Ben Isaje," he said calmly, as he held the
light close to the man's face and then let it travel over
his spare and shrinking form; " your dress and nose do
proclaim your race. Then pray tell me what was the use of
making such a to-do, seeing that I had business with you
and therefore meant to come in . . . Now take this
lanthorn and lock your front door again, after which you
had best conduct me to a room where I can talk privately
with you."
No doubt there was something in the stranger's face
and attitude which reassured the Jew, for after a few
more seconds of anxious hesitancy, he did take the
lanthorn from Diogenes' hand and then shuffled back to
the street door which he once more carefully barred and
bolted.
After which with the aid of one of the many large keys
which hung by a steel chain in a bunch from his waist,
he unlocked the door in the passage and standing a little
to one side he bade his belated guest walk in.

CHAPTER XXVIII

CHECK

THE room into which Diogenes now stepped in looked at
first sight to be almost devoid of furniture: it was only
when the Jew had entered and placed the lanthorn down
upon a wooden table at one end of the room that the
philosopher realized where he was.
The dark low walls showed themselves lined with solid
oak chests and presses, each with massive hinges and
locks, rusty and covered with dust, but firm enough to
withstand for many an hour the depredations of thieves.
Ben Isaje was obviously a jeweller by trade and this was
the shop where he kept his precious goods: no wonder
then that he looked with obvious fear on his belated
visitor with the powerful shoulders and vigorous limbs,
seeing that to all appearances he was at the moment alone
in the house.
Like all jewellers settled in the Dutch cities at this
time Ben Isaje carried on a number of other trades-
some of which were perhaps not altogether avowable. He
acted as banker and moneylender, and general go-between
in financial transactions, some of which had political
aims. Discretion was of necessity his chief stock-in-
trade, and his small cargo of scruples he had thrown
overboard long ago.
He was as ready now to finance a conspiracy against the
Stadtholder as against the Archduchess or Don John,
provided he saw huge monetary profits in the deal, and
received bribes with a calm conscience both from Maurice
of Nassau and the Lord of Stoutenburg. But once he was
244

liberally paid he would hold to his bond:' it was only by
keeping the good graces of all political parties that he
remained free from molestation.
Diogenes had known exactly what to expect when
Nicolaes Beresteyn gave him the letter and bond to
present to Ben Isaje; he was, therefore, not surprised in
the least when he saw before him the true type of financial
agent whom already he had met more than once in his
life before.
Ben Isaje, who was the depositary of vast sums of money
placed in his house by clients of substance and of note,
wore a long, greasy kaftan of black cloth, which was worn
threadbare at the elbows and the knees, and the shop
wherein he transacted business both for governments
and private individuals which oft times involved several
million guilders, had only a few very ricketty chairs, one
or two tables blackened with dirt and age, and a piece
of tattered carpet in one corner as sole expressions of
comfort.
But all these facts were of course none of Diogenes'
business. At his host's invitation he had sat down on
one of the ricketty chairs and then proceeded to extract
some papers from out the inner lining of his doublet.
"It would save time," he began dryly, and seeing that
the man still eyed him with suspicion, " if you would
cease to deny that you are Ben Isaje, jeweller of Rotter-
dam. I have here some papers which I must deliver into
the said Ben Isaje's own hands : they are writ by Mynheer
Nicolaes Beresteyn of Haarlem and do explain the purport
of my visit here."
"From Nicolaes Beresteyn," quoth the other with an
obvious sigh of relief. "Why did you not name him
before, sir ? I am always at Mynheer Nicolaes Beres-
teyn's commands. Indeed my name is Ben Isaje. An
you have cause to doubt it, sir . . ."
"Dondersteen ! but I never did doubt it, man, from
the moment I saw the end of your hooked nose through
the aperture of your door. So no more talk now, I pray you.
Time is getting on. Here is the letter which Mynheer
Beresteyn bade me present to you."

CHECK

245

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

He handed over the letter to Ben Isaje which was writ
in Beresteyn's own hand and duly signed with his own
name. The Jew took it from him and drawing a chair
close to the light on the table he unfolded the paper and
began to read.
Diogenes the while examined him attentively. He was
the man who after this night would have charge of Gilda,
at the bidding of her own brother ; he--Diogenes-would
after this night become a free agent, his pledge to Beresteyn
would be redeemed and he would be free-in an hour's time
mayhap-to work for his own ends--to restore the
jongejuffrouw to her sorrowing father, by taking her by
force from this old Jew's keeping and returning with
utmost speed and in utmost secrecy the very way he had
just come. A fortune of 500,000 guilders awaited him in
Haarlem, provided he could cajole or threaten Gilda in
keeping his share of her original abduction a secret for
all times.
How this could be done he had not yet thought on ; but
that it could be done he had no manner of doubt. An
interview with the lady either this night or on the morrow,
a promise to take her back to her father at once if she
swore a solemn oath never to betray him, and he might
be back in Leyden with her to-morrow eve and in posses-
sion of a fortune the following day.
No wonder then, that with these happy thoughts
whirling in his head, he could scarcely restrain his temper
while Ben Isaje read the long letter through, and then
re-read it again a second time.
"Have you not finished, sir ? " he exclaimed at last
with marked impatience, "meseems the letter is explicit
enough."
" Quite explicit, sir, I thank you," replied Ben Isaje,
as he slowly folded up the letter and slipped it into the
pocket of his kaftan. "I am to assure myself that the
Jongejuffrouw Gilda Beresteyn, who is in your charge, is
safe and well and hath no grave complaints to make
against you, beyond that you did seize her by force in
the streets of Haarlem. After which I am to see that she is
conveyed with respect and safety to my own private house

246

which is situate outside this city, or to any other place
which I might think fitting, and there to keep her in
comfort until such time as Mynheer Beresteyn desires.
All that is quite clearly set forth in the letter, sir, and
also that in payment for your services you are to receive
the sum of 3,000 guilders which I am to give you in
exchange for the formal bond which you will duly
present."
The Jew spoke very deliberately-too deliberately, in
fact, for Diogenes' endurance. Now he broke in im-
patiently.
" Is that all that is set forth in the letter ? "
The Jew smiled somewhat sardonically.
" Not quite all," he said, " there is, of course, question
in it of payment to myself."
"And certain conditions too, I imagine, attached to
such payment. I know that Mynheer Nicolaes Beresteyn
is prudent beyond his years."
"There is but one condition, sir, which enjoins me to
keep a watchful eye on the jongejuffrouw once she is
under my roof: to set a watch over her and her move-
ments, and never, if possible, to let her out of my sight;
he suggests that she might at any time make an attempt
at escape, which he strictly commands me to frustrate,
and in point of fact he desires me to look upon his sister
as a prisoner of war not even to be let out on parole."
Diogenes' low, prolonged whistle was his only comment
on what he had just heard.
" Mynheer Beresteyn also suggests to me, sir," continued
the Jew with marked affability, " the advisability of
keeping a watchful eye over you until such time as the
jongejuffrouw is safely housed under my roof."
" You will find that injunction somewhat more difficult
to follow, my friend, than you imagine," retorted Diogenes
with a ringing laugh, " an you'll take my advice you will
have extra watchmen posted outside your door."
"I have valuable things as well as monies stored in
this house, sir," rejoined the Jew simply. "I have a
picked guard of ten men sleeping here every night, and
two watchmen outside my door until dawn."

CHECK

247

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

Once more a long, low whistle escaped from the philoso-
pher's lips.
" You are careful, my friend ! " he said lightly.
" One has to be careful, sir, against thieves and house-
breakers."
"And will your picked guard of ten men escort the
jongejuffrouw to your private house this night ? "
But the other slowly shook his head in response.
"The lady and her escort," he said, " must, I fear me,
accept the hospitality of this hovel for to-night."
"But . . "
" My wife is away, sir, visiting her father in Dordrecht.
She will only be home to-morrow. In the meanwhile my
house is empty, and I am spending my nights here as
well as my days."
"But ". ."
" It will not be a great hardship for the jongejuffrouw,
sir," broke in the Jew again, " she will be made as com-
fortable for the night as maybe-she and her attendant
too. I have a serving woman here who will see to the beds
and the supper. Then to-morrow I can send a messenger
to my private house to prepare my wife the moment she
arrives, against the coming of the jongejuffrouw. 'Tis
situate but half a league from here, and she would then be
sure of a welcome equal to her worth."
Then as Diogenes was silent-since he felt perplexed
and anxious at this unlooked-for turn of events and this
first check to his plans-Ben Isaje continued with even
greater affability than heretofore:
" Indeed, sir, and is it not better for the lady's own
comfort ? She will be over-fatigued when she arrives,
and delighted-I know-at finding a nice bed and supper
ready for her. Is it not all for the best ? " he reiterated
pleasantly.
But Diogenes was not satisfied. He did not like the
idea of losing sight of Gilda altogether, quite so soon.
"I do not care to leave the jongejuffrouw," he said
" until I see her safely on her way to your house."
"Nor need you leave her, sir. There is a small room
at the back of this shop, to which you are heartily welcome

248

for the night. It is usually occupied by some of my
guard, but they can dispose themselves in other rooms in
the house. They are sturdy fellows, sir, and well-armed,"
continued the Jew, not without significance, " and I trust
that they will not disturb you with their noise. Other-
wise, sir, you are most welcome to sleep and sup under
this roof."
Diogenes murmured vague thanks. Indeed, he was not
a little troubled in his mind. The plans which he had
formed for the second abduction of Gilda would prove
more difficult of execution than he had supposed. The
Jew had more than the customary prudence of his race,
and Beresteyn had made that prudence and the measures
which it suggested a condition of payment.
Between the prudence of Beresteyn and that of Ben
Isaje, it was difficult to see how an adventurous plan could
succeed. Three philosphers against a picked guard of
ten men, with two more to keep watch outside the door,
did not seem a promising venture. But Diogenes would
not have been the happy-go-lucky soldier of fortune that
he was, had he paused for long at this juncture in order
to brood over likely failure, or had he not been willing
to allow Chance a goodly share in the working out of his
destiny.
It certainly was useless to argue any of these matters
further with Ben Isaje; fate had willed it that the
philosopher should spend this night under the same roof
as the jongejuffrouw with a watch of twelve picked men-
not counting the Jew himself-set over him, and to rebel
against that fate now were puerile and useless.
So he murmured more audible thanks for the proffered
hospitality, and put on as good-humoured an air over the
matter as he could.
From the distance now there came the sound of jingling
bells and the clatter of horses' hoofs upon the cobble-
stones of the streets.
" 'Tis the jongejuffrouw," exclaimed Diogenes, spring-
ing to his feet.
"The sledge cannot turn into this narrow way,"
rejoined Ben Isaje, " will you go meet the lady, sir, at the

CHECK

249

250 THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
top of the street where she must needs dismount, and
escort her hither, while I go to give orders to the serving
woman. Your men," he added, as Diogenes at once rose
and went to the door, " and the horses can put up at the
hostelry close by where no doubt they have halted even
now."
But already Diogenes was half way down the passage;
soon he was at the front door fumbling in the dark for
the heavy bolts. Ben Isaje followed him more deliber-
ately, lanthorn in hand. He unlocked the door, and the
next moment Diogenes was once more out in the street,
walking rapidly in the direction whence came the occa-
sional pleasing sound of the tinkling of sleigh-bells.

CHAPTER XXIX

CHECK AGAIN

THOUGH the jongejuffrouw seemed inexpressibly tired
and weak, her attitude toward Diogenes lost nothing of
its cold aloofness. She was peeping out under the hood
of the sledge when he approached it, and at sight of him
she immediately drew in her head.
" Will you deign to descend, mejuffrouw," he said with
that slight tone of good-humoured mockery in his voice
which had the power to irritate her. " Mynheer Ben
Isaje, whose hospitality yof will enjoy this night, lives
some way up this narrow, insalubrious street, and he
has bidden me to escort you to his house."
Silently, and with a great show of passive obedience,
Gilda made ready to step out of the sledge.
" Come, Maria," she said curtly.
"The road is very slippery, mejuffrouw," he added
warningly, " will you not permit me--for your own con-
venience' sake--to carry you as far as Ben Isaje's door ? "
" It would not be for my convenience, sir," she re-
torted haughtily, " an you are so chivalrously inclined
perhaps you would kindly convey my waiting woman
thither in your arms."
"At your service, mejuffrouw," he said with imper-
turbable good temper.
And without more ado, despite her screams and her
struggles, he seized Maria round her ample waist and
round her struggling knees at the moment that she was
stepping out of the sledge in the wake of her mistress.
The lamp outside the hostel at the corner illumined for a
251

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

moment Gilda's pale, wearied face, and Diogenes saw
that she was trying her best to suppress an insistent
outburst of laughter.
" Hey there!" he shouted, " Pythagoras, Socrates,
follow the jongejuffrouw at a respectful distance and see
that no harm come to her while I lead the way with this
featherweight in my arms."
Nor did he deposit Maria to the ground until he reached
the door of Ben Isaje's house; here, when the mevrouw
began to belabour him with her tongue and with her fists,
he turned appealingly to Gilda :
"Mejuffrouw," he said merrily, "is this abuse not
unmerited ? I did but obey your behests and see how
I must suffer fof mine obedience."
But Gilda vouchsafed him no reply, and in the darkness
he could not see if her face looked angered or smiling.
Ben Isaje, hearing the noise that went on outside his
house, had already hastened to. open the door. He
welcomed the jongejuffrouw with obsequious bows.
Behind him in the dark passage stood a lean and towzled-
looking serving woman of uncertain years who was as
obsequious as her master. When Gilda, confused and
wearied, and mayhap not a little tired, advanced timor-
ously into the narrow passage, the woman rushed up to her,
and almost kneeling on the floor in the lowliness of her
attitude, she kissed the jongejuffrouw's hand.
Diogenes saw nothing more of Gilda and Maria after that.
They vanished into the gloom up the ladder-like staircase,
preceded by the towzled but amiable woman, who by her
talk and clumsy attempts at service had already earned
Maria's fulsome contempt.
" You, too, must be hungry, sir," murmured a smooth
affable voice close to Diogenes' elbow. " There is a bite
and a drink ready for you; will you sup, sir, ere you go
to bed ? "
Before, however, following Ben Isaje into the shop
Diogenes exchanged a few words with his brother philoso-
phers, who, impassive and unquestioning, had escorted
the jongejuffrouw to the door, and now stood there
awaiting further orders. Diogenes suggested their getting

252

supper and a bed in the hostelry at the top of the street in
company with their driver; the horses too should all be
stabled there.
" I am going to spend the night under this tumble-down
roof," he said, " but remember to sleep with one eye open
and be prepared for a summons from me at any hour of
the night or morning. Until that comes, however, do
not leave the hostel. Care well for the horses, we may
have need of them to-morrow. Good-night! pleasant
dreams! Do not forget that to-morrow five hundred
guilders will fill each of your pockets. In the meanwhile
here is the wherewithal to pay for bed and supper."
He gave them some money and then watched the two
quaint figures, the long one and the round one, until they
were merged in the blackness of the narrow street.
Then he went within. Ben Isaje once more closed and
bolted the front door and the two men then went together
into the shop.
Here an appetizing supper had been laid ready upon
the table and a couple of tallow candles burned in pewter
sconces.
Ben Isaje at once invited his guest to eat and drink.
" Not before we have settled our business together,
master," said the latter as he dragged a chair towards
him, and sitting astride upon it, with his shapely legs
thrust well out before him, he once more drew a paper
from out the lining of his doublet.
" You are satisfied," he resumed after a slight pause,
" that the lady whom I have had the honour of bringing
into your house is indeed the Jongejuffrouw Gilda
Beresteyn, sister of your client Mynheer Nicolaes Beres-
teyn of Haarlem ? "
" I am quite satisfied on that point," replied the Jew,
whose thin, bent form under the rigid folds of the blak
kaftan looked curiously weird in the feeble yellow light.
His face was narrow and also waxlike in hue and the
flickering candle-light threw quaint, distorted shadows
around his long hooked nose.
"Then," said Diogenes blandly while he held out a
folded paper to Ben Isaje, " here is the bond signed by

CHECK AGAIN

253

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

Mynheer Beresteyn wherein he orders you to pay me the
sum of 3,000 guilders in consideration of the services
which I have rendered him."
But Ben Isaje did not take the paper thus held out to
him.
" It is too late," he said quietly, " to transact business
to-night."
"Too late ! " exclaimed Diogenes with a blunt oath.
" What in thunder do you mean ? "
" I mean, sir, that you must try and curb your natural
impatience until to-morrow."
" But I will not curb mine impatience another moment,
plepshurk," cried the philosopher in a rage, " I have ful-
filled my share of a bargain, 'tis only a verdommte Keerl
who would shirk paying his own share on the nail."
" Nor would Mynheer Beresteyn desire me to shirk
his responsibilities, I assure you," rejoined the Jew
suavely, " and believe me, sir, that you will not lose one
grote by waiting until the morrow. Let a good supper
and a comfortable bed freely offered you atone for this
unimportant delay. You still hold Mynheer Beresteyn's
bond: to-morrow at the first business hour you shall be
paid."
" But why any delay at all," thundered Diogenes, who
indeed misliked this way of doing business. " Why not
pay me the money now ?-at once? I will gladly forego
the supper and sit all night upon your door-step, but
have my money in my pocket."
"Unfortunately, sir," said Ben Isaje with imperturb-
able amiability, "I am quite helpless in the matter. I
am not the sole master of this business, my wife's brother
shares my profits and my obligations. Neither of us is at
liberty to pay out a large sum of money, save in the
presence of the other."
" You and your partner know how to trust one another,"
said Diogenes with a laugh.
The Jew made no comment on this, only shrugged his
shoulders in that calm manner peculiar to his race, which
suggests the Oriental resignation to compelling fate.
Diogenes-inwardly fuming-thought over the matter

254

CHECK AGAIN

very quietly for a few moments: it was obviously as
useless to argue this matter out with Ben Isaje, as it had
been to combat his dictum anent the jongejuffrouw
spending the night under his roof, and as usual the
wholesome lesson of life which the philosopher had learnt
so thoroughly during his adventurous career stood him
in good stead now : the lesson was the one which taught
him never to waste time, temper or words over a purpose-
less argument.
That one shrug of Isaje's shoulders had told him with
dumb eloquence that no amount of persuasion on his part
would cause the banker to swerve from his determination.
The money would be foithcoming on the morrow but not
before, and there were ten picked men somewhere in the
house at the present moment to prevent Diogenes from
settling this matter in a primitive and efficient way by
using his fists.
So in this instance too-disappointed though he was-
he quickly regained his good humour. After all, the Jew
was right : a night's delay would not spell a loss, and was
well compensated for by a good supper and cosy bed.
With his habitual light-hearted laugh and careless shrug
of the shoulders, he folded the paper up again and once
more slipped it carefully into the inner lining of his
doublet.
" You are right, sir, he said, " 'twere foolish to allow
choler to spoil the appetite. I am as hungry as the dog
of a Spaniard. By your leave I'll test the strength of your
ale and to-morrow ere I leave your house you shall pay
me over the money in the presence of your trusting
brother-in-law. Until then the bond remains with me,
and I hold myself responsible for the safety of the jonge-
juffrouw. So I pray you be not surprised if I forbid her
removal from this house until after I have exchanged
this bond for the sum of 3,000 guilders."
After which he drew his chair close to the table, and fell
to all its good cheer with a hearty will. Ben Isaje,
hospitable and affable to the last, waited on him with
his own hands.

255

CHAPTER XXX

A NOCTURNE

IT was only natural that, though tired as he was and
enjoying an unusually contented mind, Diogenes was
nevertheless unable to get to sleep.
He had had a very good supper and had parted at an
early hour from his host. Ben Isaje had been amiable
even deferential to the last, and indeed there had been
nothing in the Jew's demeanour to arouse misgivings
in the most suspicious mind.
The lean and towzled serving woman had prepared a
clean and comfortable bed in the narrow alcove within
the wall panelling of the small room which adjoined the
shop, but though the weary philosopher wooed sleep with
utmost persistence, it resolutely refused to be lured to his
pillow. At first the arrival of the night watchmen had
kept him awake: for they made their entrance with
much jangling of swords and loud and lusty talk. There
was apparently a good solid partition between his room
and the shop because as soon as the watchmen were
settled at their post their voices only reached Diogenes'
ear like a muffled murmur.
A door gave from his room on the passage and this he
had carefully locked; but it hung loosely on its hinges
and the slightest noise in the house-a heavy footfall
overhead or in the shop-would cause it to rattle with
a weird, intermittent sound which sent sleep flying
baffled away.
There were thoughts too which crowded in upon him-
pleasant thoughts as well as others that were a trifle
256

sad--the immediate future with its promise of a possible
fortune loomed brightly enough, but the means to that
happy end was vaguely disturbing the light-hearted
equanimity of this soldier of fortune accustomed hitherto
to grip Chance by the hair whenever she rushed past him
in her mad, whirling career, and without heeding those
who stood in his way.
But suddenly the whole thing seemed different, and
Diogenes himself could not have told you why it was so.
Thoughts of the future and of the promises which it held
disturbed when they should have elated him: there was
a feeling in him which he could not analyse, a feeling where-
in a strange, sweet compassion seemed to form the main
ingredient. The philosopher who had hitherto viewed
life through the rosy glasses of unalterable good humour,
who had smiled at luck and ill-luck, laughed at misfortune
and at hope, suddenly felt that there was something in
life which could not be dismissed light-heartedly, some-
thing which really counted, though it was so intangible
and so elusive that even now he could not give it a name.
The adventurer, who had slept soundly and dream-
lessly in camp and on the field, in the streets of a sacked
town or the still smouldering battlements of a fortress,
could find no rest in the comfortable bed so carefully
prepared for him in the house of Ben Isaje the Jew. The
murmur of voices from the shop, low and monotonous,
irritated his nerves, the rattling of the door upon its
hinges drove him well-nigh distracted.
He heard every noise in the house as they died out one
by one; the voice of the serving woman bidding the
jongejuffrouw " good-night," the shuffling footsteps of
the old Jew, the heavy tread of Maria overhead, and
another, light and swift which-strangely enough-
disturbed him more completely than the louder sounds
had done.
At last he could stand his, present state no longer,
he felt an unpleasant tingling to the very tips of his
fingers and the very roots of his hair; it seemed to him
as if soft noiseless steps wandered aimlessly outside his
door ; furtive tiny animals with feet of velvet must have
R

A NOCTURNE

257

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

run down the stairs and then halted, breathless and terri-
fied, on the other side of those rattling wooden panels.
He sat up in bed and groping for his tinder he struck
a light; then he listened again. Not a sound now
stirred inside the house, only the wind soughed through
the loose tiles of the roof and found out the chinks and
cracks of the ill-fitting window, through which it blew
with a sharp, whistling sound. From the shop there came
the faint murmur of some of the watchmen snoring at their
post.
Beyond that, nothing. And yet Diogenes, whose keen
ear was trained to catch the flutter of every twig, the
movement of every beast, could have sworn that some
one was awake at this moment, in this house besides him-
self-some one who breathed and trembled on the other
side of the door.
Without a moment's hesitation he slipped on his
clothes as quickly as he could, then he pulled the curtains
across in front of the alcove and paused for one second
longer in order to listen.
He had certainly not been mistaken. Through the
stillness of the house he heard the soughing of the wind,
the snoring of the watchmen, and that faint, palpitating
sound outside in the passage-that sound which was as
the breathing of some living, frightened thing.
Then he walked as noiselessly as he could up to the
door, and with a sudden simultaneous turn of key and
handle he opened it suddenly.
It opened outwards, and the passage beyond was pitch
dark, but there in front of him now, white as a ghost,
white as the garment which she wore, white as the marble
statue of the Madonna which he had seen in the cathedral
at Prague, stood the jongejuffrouw.
The candle which she carried flickered in the draught,
and thus flickering it lit up her large blue eyes which she
kept fixed upon him with an expression half defiant yet
wholly terrified.
Frankly he thought at first that this was an apparition,
a vivid embodiment of the fevered fancies which had
been haunting him. No wonder therefore that he made

258

no movement toward her, or expressed the slightest aston-
ishment at seeing her there, all alone, in the middle of the
night, not five paces away from him.
Thus they stood looking at one another for some time
in absolute silence; she obviously very frightened, hesi-
tating betwixt audacity and immediate flight, and he
puzzled and with a vague sense of unreality upon him, a
sense as of a dream which yet had in it the pulsating
vividness of life.
She was the first to break this silence which was be-
ginning to be oppressive. Gilda Beresteyn was not a
timid woman nor was hers a character which ever vacil-
lated once her mind was made up. The step which she
had taken this night-daring and unconventional as it
was-had been well thought out: deliberately and seri-
ously she had weighed every danger, every risk which
she ran, even those which in her pure-minded innocence
she was not able fully to appreciate. Now though
she was scared momentarily, she had no thought of turn-
ing back.
The old stiff-necked haughtiness of her race did not
desert her for a moment, even though she was obviously
at a disadvantage in this instance, and had come here as
a suppliant.
"I wished to speak with you, sir," she said, and her
voice had scarce a tremor in it, "my woman was too
timorous to come down and summon you to my presence,
as I had ordered her to do; so I was forced to come
myself."
Though she looked very helpless, very childlike in her
innocence, she had contrived to speak to him like a
princess addressing a menial, holding her tiny head very
high and making visible efforts to still the quivering of
her lips, I
There was something so quaint in this proud attitude
of hers under the present circumstances, that despite
its pathos Diogenes' keen sense of humour was not proof
against it, and that accustomed merry smile of his crept
slowly over every line of his face.
" I am ever at your service, mejuffrouw," he said as

A NOCTURNE

259

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

gravely as he could," your major domo, your valet . .. I
always await your commands."
"Then I pray you take this candle," she said coldly,
" and stand aside that I may enter. What I have to
say cannot be told in this passage."
He took the candle from her, since she held it out to
him, and then stepped aside just as she had commanded,
keeping the door wide open for her to pass through into
the room. She was holding herself very erect, and with
perfect self-possession she now selected a chair whereon
to sit. She wore the same white gown which she had on
when first he laid hands on her in the streets of Haarlem,
and the fur cloak wherein she had wrapped herself had
partially slid from her shoulders.
Having sat down, close to the table, with one white
arm resting upon it, she beckoned peremptorily to him to
close the door and to put the candle down; all of which
he did quite mechanically, for the feeling had come back
to him that the white figure before him was only a vision-
or mayhap a dream--from which, however, he hoped not
to waken too soon.
" At your command, mejuffrouw," was all that he
said, and he remained standing quite close to the door,
with half the width of the room between himself and
her.
But to himself he murmured under his breath i
" St. Bavon and the Holy Virgin, do ye both stand by me
now ! "
" I do not know, sir," she began after awhile, "if my
coming here at this hour doth greatly surprise you, but
in truth the matter which brings me is so grave that I
cannot give a thought to your feelings or to mine own."
" And mine, mejuffrouw, are of such little consequence,"
he said good-humouredly seeing that she appeared to
wait for a reply, " that it were a pity you should waste
precious time in considering them."
" Nor have I come to talk of feelings, sir. My purpose
is' of deadly earnestness. I have come to propose a
bargain for your acceptance."
"A bargain ? "

z26o

"Yes. A bargain," she reiterated. "One I hope and
think that you will find it worth while to accept."
" Then may I crave the honour of hearing the nature
of that bargain, mejuffrouw ? " he asked pleasantly.
She did not give him an immediate reply but remained
quite still and silent for a minute or even two, looking
with wide-open inquiring eyes on the tall figure of the
man who had-to her mind-done her such an infinite
wrong. She noted and acknowledged quite dispassion-
ately the air of splendour which became him so well-
splendour of physique, of youth and of strength, and
those laughing eyes that questioned and that mocked,
the lips that always smiled and the straight brow with its
noble sweep which hid the true secret of his personality.
And once again-as on that evening at Leyden-she
fell almost to hating him, angered that such a man
should be nothing better than a knave, a mercenary
rogue paid to lend a hand in unavowable deeds.
He stood her scrutiny as best he could, answering her
look of haughty condescension with one of humble de-
ference; but the smile of gentle irony never left his lips
and tempered the humility of his attitude.
" You have owned to me, sir," resumed Gilda Beresteyn
at last, " that you have been paid for the infamous work
which you are doing now; for laying hands on me in the
streets of Haarlem and for keeping me a prisoner at the
good will of your employer. To own to such a trade, sir,
is to admit oneself somewhat below the level of honest
men. Is that not so ? "
" Below the level of most men, mejuffrouw, I admit,"
he replied imperturbably.
"Had it not been for that admission on your part, I
would never have thought of coming to you with a pro-
posal which . .."
" Which you never would have put before an honest
man," he broke in with perfect equanimity, seeing that
she hesitated.
" You anticipate my thought, sir: and I am glad to
find that you will make my errand even easier than I had
hoped. Briefly then let me tell you-as I told you at

A NOCTURNE

261

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

Leyden-that I know who your paymaster is. A man
has thought fit to perpetrate a crime against me, for a
reason which no doubt he deemed expedient and which
probably he has not imparted to you. Reasons and causes
I imagine, sir, are no concern of yours. You take pay-
ment for your deeds and do not inquire into motives.
Is that not so ? "
This time Diogenes only made a slight bow in acknow-
ledgment of her question. He was smiling to himself
more grimly than was his wont, for he had before him
the recollection of the Lord of Stoutenburg-cruel, coarse,
and evil-bullying and striking a woman, and of Nicolaes
Beresteyn--callous and cynical-bartering his sister's
honour and safety to ensure his own. To the one she
had plighted her troth, the other was her natural pro-
tector, dear to her through those sweet bonds of childhood
which bind brother and sister in such close affection.
Yet both are selfish, unscrupulous rogues, thought the
philosopher, though both very dear to her, and both
honest men in her sight.
"That being so, sir," she resumed once more, "me-
seems that you should be equally ready to do me service
and to ask me no questions, provided that I pay you
well."
"That, mejuffrouw," he said quietly, "would depend
on the nature of the service."
" It is quite simple, sir. Let me explain. While my
woman and I were having supper upstairs, the wench who
served us fell to gossiping, telling us the various news of
the day which have filtered through into Rotterdam.
Among other less important matters, sir, she told us that
the Prince of Orange had left his camp at Sprang in order
to journey northwards to Amsterdam. Yesterday he
and his escort of one hundred men-at-arms passed close
to this city; they were making for Delft where the Prince
means to spend a day or two before proceeding further
on his journey. He sleeps at the Prinzenhof in Delft
this night."
" Yes, mejuffrouw ? " he said, for suddenly her manner
had changed; something of its coolness had gone from it,

262

even if the pride was still there. While she spoke a
warm tinge of pink flooded her cheeks; she was leaning
forward, her eyes bright and glowing were fixed upon him
with a look of eagerness and almost of appeal, and her lips
were moist and trembling, whilst the words which she
wished to speak seemed to be dying in her throat.
" What hath the progress of the Prince of Orange to
do with your most humble and most obedient servant ? "
he asked again.
"I must speak with the Prince of Orange, sir," she
said while her voice now soft and mellow fell almost like
a prayer on his ear. " I must go to him to Delft not later
than to-morrow. Oh ! you will not refuse me this .. .
you cannot . . . I . .."
She had clasped her hands together, her eyes were wet
with tears, and as she pleaded, she bent forward so low
in her chair, that it seemed for a moment as if her knees
would touch the ground. In the flickering candle-light
she looked divinely pretty thus, with all the cold air of
pride gone from her childlike face. A gentle draught
stirred the fair curls round her head, the fur cloak had
completely slipped down from her shoulders and her
white dress gave her more than ever the air of that
Madonna carved in marble which he had seen once in the
cathedral at Prague.
The philosopher passed a decidedly shaking hand across
his forehead : the room was beginning to whirl round him,
the floor to give way under his feet. He fell to thinking
that the mild ale offered to him by Ben Isaje had been
more heady than he had thought.
" St. Bavon," he murmured to himself, "where in
Heaven's name are ye now ? I asked you to stand by
me."
It was one of those moments--perfect in themselves--
when a man can forget everything that pertains to the
outer world, when neither self-interest nor ordinary
prudence will count, when he is ready to jeopardize his
life, his career, his future, his very soul for the ecstasy
which lies in the one heaven-born minute. Thus it was
with this philosopher, this man of the moment, the

263

A NOCTURNE

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

adventurer, the soldier of fortune; the world which he
had meant to conquer, the fortune which he had vowed
to win seemed to slip absolutely away from him. This
dream--for it was after all only a dream, it was just too
beautiful to be reality-the continuance of this dream
seemed to him to be all that mattered, this girl--proud
and pleading-a Madonna, a saint, a child of innocence,
was the only perfect, desirable entity in this universe.
"St Bavon, you rogue ! you are playing me false ! "
he murmured, as the last vestige of self-control and of
prudence threatened to fall away from him.
" Madonna," he said as with a quick movement he
came forward and bent the knee before her, " I entreat
you to believe that whatever lies in my power to do in
your service, that will I gladly do. How can I refuse,"
he added whilst that immutable smile, gentle, humorous,
faintly ironical, once more lit up his face as he looked
straight into hers, " how can I refuse to obey since you
deign to plead to me with those lips ? how can I withstand
your appeal when it speaks to me through your eyes ? "
" You will let me do what I ask ? " she exclaimed with
a little cry of joy, for his attitude was very humble and
his voice yielding and kind; he was kneeling at some
little distance from her, which was quite becoming in a
mercenary knave.
" If it be in my power, Madonna ! " he said simply.
"Then will I pay you well," she continued eagerly.
" I have thought it all out. I am rich, you know, and my
bond is as good as that of any man. Do you but bring
me inkhorn and paper, I will give you a bond for 4,000
guilders on Mynheer Ben Isaje himself, he hath monies
of mine own in trust and at interest. But if 4,000 guilders
are not enough, I pray you name your price; it shall be
what you ask."
" What do you desire me to do, Madonna ? "
" I desire you to escort me to Delft so that I may speak
with the Prince of Orange."
" The Prince of Orange is well guarded. No stranger is
allowed to enter his presence."
" I am not a stranger to him. My father is his friend;

264

a word from me to him, a ring of mine sent in with a
request for an audience and he will not refuse."
" And having entered the presence of the Stadtholder,
mejuffrouw, what do you propose to say to him ? "
" That, sir, is naught to you," she retorted coldly.
" I pray you forgive me," he said, still humbly kneeling,
" but you have deigned to ask my help, and I'll not give
it unless you will tell me what your purpose is."
" You would not dare .. ."
" To make conditions for my services ? " he said speak-
ing always with utmost deference, " this do I dare,
mejuffronw, and my condition is for your acceptance or
refusal-as you command."
" I did not ask for your help, sir," she said curtly. " I
offered to pay you for certain services which I desire you
to render me."
Already her look of pleading had gone. She had
straightened herself up, prouder and more disdainful
than before. He dared to make conditions! he ! the
mercenary creature whom any one could buy body and
soul for money, who took payment for doing such work
as would soil an honest man's hand ! It was monstrous,
impossible, unthinkable! She thought that her ears had
deceived her or that mayhap he had misunderstood.
In a moment at her words, at the scornful glance which
accompanied them, he had risen to his feet. The subtle
moment had gone by; the air was no longer oppressive,
and the ground felt quite steady under him. Calm,
smiling, good-tempered, he straightened out his massive
figure as if to prepare himself for those shafts which her
cruel little tongue knew so well how to deal.
And inwardly he offered up a thanksgiving to St.
Bavon for this cold douche upon his flaming temper.
"I did not misunderstand you, mejuffrouw," he said
lightly, " and I am ready to do you service-under a
certain condition."
She bit her lip with vexation. The miserable wretch
was obviously not satisfied with the amount which she had
named as payment for his services, and he played some
weak part of chivalry and of honour in order to make his

A N-OCTURNE

265

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

work appear more difficult, and to extract a more sub-
stantial reward from her. She tried to put into the glance
which she now threw on him all the contempt which she
felt and which truly nauseated her at this moment.
Unfortunately she had need of him, she could not start
for Delft alone, marauders and footpads would stop her
ever reaching that city. Could she have gone alone she
were not here now craving the help of a man whom she
despised.
" Meseems," she said coldly after a slight pause, " that
you do wilfully misunderstand our mutual positions.
I am not asking you to do anything which could offend
your strangely susceptible honour, whose vagaries, I
own, I am unable to follow. Will Io,ooo guilders satisfy
your erratic conscience ? Or did you receive more than
that for laying hands on two helpless women and dragging
one-who has never done you any wrong-to a depth of
shame and sorrow which you cannot possibly fathom ? "
"My conscience, mejuffrouw," he replied, seemingly
quite unperturbed at her contemptuous glance and in-
sulting speech, " is, as you say, somewhat erratic. For the
moment it refuses to consider the possibility of escorting
you to Delft unless I know what it is that you desire to
say to the Prince of Orange."'
" If it is a question of price . ."
" It is not a question of price, mejuffrouw," he broke in
firmly, " let us, an you will allow it, call it a question of
mine erratic conscience."
" I am rich, sir . . . my private fortune . ."
" Do not name it, mejuffrouw," he said jovially, "the
sound of it would stagger a poor man who has to scrape
up a living as best he can."
"Forty thousand guilders, sir," she said pleading
once more eagerly, "an you will take me to Delft to-
morrow."
"Were it ten hundred thousand, mejuffrouw, I would
not do it unless I knew what you wished to say to the
Stadtholder."
" Sir, can I not move you," she implored, " this means
more to me than I can hope to tell you." Once again her

266

pride had given way before this new and awful fear that
her errand would be in vain, that she had come here as
a suppliant before this rogue, that she had humbled her
dignity, entreated him, almost knelt to him, and that he,
for some base reason which she could not understand,
meant to give himself the satisfaction of refusing the
fortune which she did promise him.
" Can I not move you," she reiterated, appealing yet
more earnestly, for, womanlike, she could not forget that
moment awhile ago, when he had knelt instinctively
before her, when the irony had gone from his smile, and
the laughter in his mocking eyes had yielded to an inward
glow.
He shook his head, but remained unmoved.
" I cannot tell you, sir," she urged plaintively, " what
I would say to the Prince."
" Is it so deadly a secret then ? " he asked.
" Call it that, an you will."
" A secret that concerns his life ? "
" That I did not say."
" No. It was a guess. A right one methinks."
" Then if you think so, sir, why not let me go to him ? "
" So that you may warn him ? "
"You were merely guessing, sir . .."
"That you may tell him not to continue his journey,"
he insisted, speaking less restrainedly now, as he leaned
forward closer to her, her fair curls almost brushing
against his cheek as they fluttered in the draught.
" I did not say so," she murmured.
"Because there is a trap laid for him . . . a trap of
which you know . . ."
" No, no ! " she cried involuntarily.
" A trap into which he may fall ... unknowingly .. .
on his way to the north."
" You say so, sir," she moaned, "not I . .."
" Assassins are on his track ... an attempt will be
made against this life . . . the murderers lie in wait for
him . . . even now . . . and you, mejuffrouw, who
know who those murderers are . . ."
A cry of anguish rose to her lips.

A NOCTURNE

267

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

" No, no, no," she cried, " it is false . . . you are only
guessing . . . remember that I have told you nothing."
But already the tense expression on his face had gone.
He drew himself up to his full height once more and
heaved a deep breath which sounded like a sigh of satis-
faction.
"Yet in your candour, mejuffrouw, you have told me
much," he said quietly, "confirmed much that I only
vaguely guessed. The Stadtholder's life is in peril and
you hold in your feeble little hands the threads of the
conspiracy which threatens him ... is that not why
you are here, mejuffrouw . . . a prisoner, as you say,
at the goodwill of my employer? I am only guessing,
remember, but on your face, meseems that I can read
that I do guess aright."
"Then you will do what I ask? " she exclaimed with
a happy little gasp of renewed hope.
"That, mejuffrouw, is I fear me impossible," he said
quietly.
" Impossible ? But--just now . .."
"Just now," he rejoined with affected carelessness,
" I said, mejuffrouw, that I would on no account escort
you to Delft without knowing what your purpose is with
the Prince of Orange. Even now I do not know, I merely
guessed."
"But," she entreated, "if I do own that you have
guessed aright-partly at any rate--if I do tell you that
the Stadtholder's life might be imperilled if I did not give
him a timely word of warning, if . ."
" Even if you told me all that, mejuffrouw," he broke
in lightly, "if you did bring your pride down so far as
to trust a miserable knave with a secret which he might
sell for money on the morrow--even then, I fear me, I
could not do what you ask."
" But why not ? " she insisted, her voice choking in
her throat in the agony of terrible doubt and fear.
" Because the man of whom you spoke just now, the
man whom you love, mejuffrouw, has been more farseeing,
more prudent than you or I. He hath put it out of my
power to render you this service."

268

" How ? "
" By warning Mynheer Ben Isaje against any attempt
at escape on your part, against any attempt at betrayal
on mine. Mynheer Ben Isaje is prepared: he hath a
guard of ten picked men on the watch, and two more
men outside his door. If you tried to leave this house
with me without his consent he would prevent you, and
I am no match alas ! for twelve men."
" Why should he guard me so ? "
" Because he will not be paid if he keep not watch over
you."
" But I'll swear to return straightway from Delft.
I'll only speak with the Prince and return immediately.
. . . Money ! always money!" she cried with sudden
vehemence, "a great man's life, the honour of a house,
the salvation of the land, are these all to be sacrificed
because of the greed and cupidity of men ? "
" Shall I call Mynheer Ben Isaje ? " asked Diogenes
placidly, " mayhap, mejuffrouw, that you could persuade
him more easily than me i "
But at this she rose to her feet as suddenly as if she
had been stung : the colour in her cheeks deepened, the
tears were dry in her eyes.
" You," she exclaimed, and there was a world of bitter
contempt in the tone of her voice, " persuade you who have
tricked and fooled me, even while I began to believe in
you ? You, who for the past half hour have tried to
filch a secret from me bit by bit ! with lying words you
led me into telling you even more than I should ! and I,
poor fool! thought that I had touched your heart, or
that at least there was some spark of loyalty in you which
mayhap prompted you to guess that the Prince was in
danger. Fool that I was! miserable, wretched fool!
to think for a moment that you would lend a hand in
aught that was noble and chivalrous ! I would I had the
power to raise the blush of shame in your cheeks, but
alas ! the shame is only for me, who trusting in your
false promises and your lies have allowed my tongue to
speak words which I would give my life now to unsay-
for me who thought that there was in you one feeble spark

A NOCTURNE

269

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

of pity or of honour. Fool! fool that I was ! when I
forgot for one brief moment that it was your greed and
cupidity that were the props without which this whole
edifice of infamy had tottered long ago; persuade you
to do a selfless deed ! you the abductor of women, the
paid varlet and mercenary rogue who will thieve and
outrage and murder for money ! "
She sank back in her chair and, resting her arms upon
the table, she buried her face in them, for she had given
way at last to a passionate fit of weeping. The dis-
appointment was greater than she could bear after the
load of sorrow which had been laid on her these past few
days.
When she heard through the chatterings of a servant
that the Stadtholder was at Delft this very night, the
memory of every word which she had heard in the cathe-
dral on New Year's Eve came back to her with renewed
vividness. Delft ! she remembered that name so well
and Ryswyk close by, the only possible way for a north-
ward journey ! Then the molens which Stoutenburg had
said were his headquarters, where he stored arms and
ammunition and enough gunpowder to blow up the
wooden bridge which spans the Schie and over which the
Stadtholder and his bodyguard must pass.
Every word that Stoutenburg and her brother and
the others had spoken that night, rang now in her ears
like a knell: Delft, Ryswyk, the molens, the wooden
bridge ! Delft, Ryswyk, the molens, the wooden bridge !
Delft .. .
Delft was quite near, less than four leagues away . . .
the Stadtholder was there now . . . he could be warned
before it was too late .. . and she could warn him
without compromising her brother and his friends ...
Then it was that she remembered that in the room below
there slept a knave who would do anything for gold.
Thus she had run down to him- full of eagerness and
full of hope. And now he had refused to help her, and
worse still had guessed at a secret which, if he bartered
or sold it, meant death to her brother and his friends.
Contempt and hate had broken down her spirit.

270

Smothering both, she was even now ready to fall on her
knees, to plead with him, to pray, to implore . . if only
that could have moved him . . . if only it meant safety
for the Stadtholder, and not merely a useless loss of pride
and of dignity.
Anger and misery and utter hopelessness ! they were
causing her tears, and she hated this man who had her
in his power and mocked her in her misery; and there
was the awful thought that the Stadtholder was so near
-less than four leagues away ! Why ! had she been free
she could have run all the way to him-that hideous
crime, that appalling tragedy in which her brother would
bear a hand, could be averted even now if she were free !
Oh ! the misery of it ! the awful, wretched helplessness !
in a few days-hours mayhap-the Stadtholder would
be walking straight into the trap which his murderers had
set for him . . . the broken bridge! the explosion!
the assassin at the carriage door ! She saw it all as in
a vision of the future, and her brother in the midst of
it all with hands deeply stained in blood.
And she could avert it all-the crime, the sorrow, the
awful, hideous shame if only she were free.
She looked up at last, ashamed of her tears, ashamed
that a rogue should have seen how keenly she suffered.
She looked up and turned to him once more. The
flickering light of the candles fell full upon his splendid
figure and upon his face: it was the colour of ashes, and
there was no trace of his wonted smile around his lips:
the eyes too looked sunken and their light was hid beneath
the drooping lids. Her shafts which she had aimed
with such deadly precision had gone home at last: in
the bitterness of her heart she apparently had found
words which had cut him like a lash.
Satisfied at least in this she rose to go.
"There is nothing more to say," she said as calmly
as she could, trying to still the quivering of her lips,
"as you say, Mynheer Ben Isaje has carefully taken the
measure of your valour and it cannot come up to a dozen
picked men, even though life and honour, country and
faith might demand at least an effort on their behalf. I

A NOCTURNE

27I

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

pray you open the door. I would-for mine own sake
as well as your own--that I had not thought of breaking
in on your rest."
Without a word he went to the door, and had his hand
on the latch ready to obey her, when something in his
placid attitude irritated her beyond endurance. Woman-
like she was not yet satisfied ; perhaps a thought of
remorse at her cruelty fretted her, perhaps she pitied him
in that he was so base.
Be that as it may, she spoke to him again :
" Have you nothing then to say ? " she asked.
"What can I say, mejuffrouw ? " he queried in reply,
as the ghost of his wonted smile crept swiftly back into
his pale face.
" Methought no man would care to be called a coward
by a woman, and remain silent under the taunt."
" You forget, mejuffrouw," he retorted, " that I am
so much less than a man . . . a menial, a rogue, a vaga-
bond-so base that not even the slightest fear of me did
creep into your heart . . . you came to me, here, alone
at dead of night with an appeal upon your lips, yet you
were not afraid, then you struck me in the face like you
would a dog with a whip, and you were no more afraid of
me than of the dog whom you had thrashed. So base
am I then that words of mine are not worthy of your ear.
Whatever I said, I could not persuade you that for one
man to measure his strength against twelve others were
not an act of valour, but one of senseless foolishness. I
might tell you that bravery lies oft in prudence but
seldom in foolhardiness, but this I know you are not in a
mood now to believe. I might even tell you," he con-
tinued with a slight return to his wonted light-hearted
carelessness, "I might tell you that certain acts of
bravery cannot be accomplished without the intervention
of protecting saints, and that I have found St. Bavon
an admirable saint to implore in such cases, but this I
fear me you are not like to understand. So you see,
mejuffrouw, that whatever I said I could not prove to
you that I am less of a blackguard than I seem."
"You could at least prove it to this extent," she

retorted, "by keeping silence over what you may have
guessed."
" You mean that I must not sell the secret which you
so nearly betrayed . . . have no fear, mejuffrouw, my
knowledge of it is so scanty that the Stadtholder would not
give me five guilders for it."
" Will you swear . . ."
"Such a miserable cur as I am, mejuffrouw," he said
lightly, "is surely an oath-breaker as well as a liar and
a thief-what were the good of swearing ? ... But
I'll swear an you wish . . ." he added gaily.
" Surely you .. ." she began.
But with a quick gesture he interrupted her.
"Dondersteen, mejuffrouw," he said more firmly than
he had yet spoken before, "if beauty in you is tempered
with pity, I entreat you to spare me now : even knaves,
remember, become men sometimes and my patron Saint
Bavon threatens to leave me in the lurch."
He held open the door for her to pass through, and
gravely held out one of the pewter candles to her. She
could not help but take it, though indeed she felt that the
last word between that rogue and herself had not by any
means been spoken yet. But she hardly looked at him
as she sailed past him out of the room, her heavy skirt
trailing behind her with a soft hissing sound.
As soon as she heard the door shut to behind her, she
ran up the stairs back to her own room with all speed,
like a frightened hare.
Had she remained in the passage one instant longer
she would have heard a sound which would have terrified
her; it was the sound of a prolonged and ringing laugh
which roused the echoes of this sleeping house, but which
had neither mirth nor joy in its tone, and had she then
peeped through a key-hole she would have seen a strange
sight. A man who in the flickering candlelight looked
tall and massive as a giant took up one of the wooden
chairs in the room, and after holding it out at arm's
length for a few seconds, he proceeded to smash it viciously
bit by bit until it lay a mass of broken debris at his feet.

A NOCTURNE

273

CHAPTER XXXI

THE MOLENS

LESS than half a league to the south-east of Ryswyk-
there where the Schie makes a sharp curve up toward
the north-there is a solitary windmill-strange in this,
that it has no companions near it, but stands quite alone
with its adjoining miller's hut nestling close up against
it like a tiny chick beside the mother hen, and dominates
the mud flats and lean pastures which lie for many leagues
around.
On this day which was the fourth of the New Year,
these mud flats and the pasture land lay under a carpet
of half-melted snow and ice which seemed to render
the landscape more weird and desolate, and the molens
itself more deserted and solitary. Yet less than half a
league away the pointed gables and wooden spires of
Ryswyk break the monotony of the horizon line and
suggest the life and movement pertaining to a city,
however small. But life and movement never seem to
penetrate as far as this molens; they spread their way
out toward 'S Graven Hage and the sea.
Nature herself hath decreed that the molens shall
remain solitary and cut off from the busy world, for day
after day and night after night throughout the year a
mist rises from the mud flats around and envelops the
molens as in a shroud. In winter the mist is frosty, in
summer at times it is faintly tinged with gold, but it is
always there and through it the rest of the living world--
Ryswyk and 'S Graven Hage and Delft further away only
appear as visions on the other side of a veil.
274

Just opposite the molens, some two hundred paces
away to the east, the waters of the Schie rush with un-
wonted swiftness round the curve; so swiftly in fact
that the ice hardly ever forms a thick crust over them,
and this portion of an otherwise excellent waterway is-
in the winter-impracticable for sleighs.
Beyond this bend in the river, however, less than half
a league away, there is a wooden bridge, wide and strongly
built, across which it is quite easy for men and beasts
to pass who have come from the south and desire to
rejoin the great highway which leads from Delft to
Leyden.
In the morning of that same fourth day in the New
Year, two men sat together in what was once the weighing-
room of the molens; their fur coats were wrapped closely
round their shoulders, for a keen north-westerly wind
had found its way through the chinks and cracks of
tumble-down doors and ill-fitting window frames.
Though a soft powdery veil-smooth as velvet to the
touch and made up of flour and fine dust-lay over
everything, and the dry, sweet smell of corn still hung
in the close atmosphere, there was little else in this room
now that suggested the peaceful use for which it had
been originally intended.
The big weighing machines had been pushed into
corners, and all round the sloping walls swords, cullivers
and muskets were piled in orderly array, also a row of
iron boxes standing a foot or so apart from one another
and away from any other objects in the room.
The silence which reigned over the surrounding land-
scape did not find its kingdom inside this building, for a
perpetual hum, a persistent buzzing noise as of bees
in their hives, filtrated through the floor and the low
ceiling of this room. Men moved and talked and laughed
inside the molens, but the movement and the laughter
were subdued as if muffled in that same mantle of mist
which covered the outside world.
The two men in the weighing-room were sitting at a
table on which were scattered papers, inkhorn and pens,
a sword, a couple of pistols and two or three pairs of

THE MO~LENS

275

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

skates. One of them was leaning forward and talking
eagerly :
" I think you can rest satisfied, my good Stoutenburg,"
he said, " our preparations leave nothing to be desired. I
have just seen Jan, and together we have despatched
the man Lucas van Sparendam to Delft. He is the
finest spy in the country, and can ferret out a plan or sift
a rumour quicker than any man I know. He will remain
at Delft and keep the Prinzenhof under observation:
and will only leave the city if anything untoward
should happen, and then he will come straight here and
report to us. He is a splendid runner, and can easily
cover the distance between Delft and this molens in an
hour. That is satisfactory, is it not ? "
" Quite," replied Stoutenburg curtly.
" Our arrangements here on the other hand are
equally perfect," resumed Beresteyn eagerly, "we have
kept the whole thing in our own hands . . . Heemskerk
and I will be at our posts ready to fire the gunpowder
at the exact moment when the advance guard of the
Prince's escort will have gone over the bridge .. . you,
dagger in hand, will be prepared to make a dash for the
carriage itself . . . our men will attack the scattered and
confused guard at a word from van Does . . . What
could be more simple, more perfect than that ? Your-
self, Heemskerk, van Does and I . . . all of one mind
.. all equally true, silent and determined... You
seem so restless and anxious . . Frankly I do not
understand you."
" It is not of our preparations or of our arrangements
that I am thinking, Nicolaes," said Stoutenburg sombrely,
"these have been thought out well enough. Nothing
but superhuman intervention or treachery can save the
Stadtholder-of that am I convinced. Neither God
nor the devil care to interfere in men's affairs-we need
not therefore fear superhuman intervention. But 'tis
the thought of treachery that haunts me."
" Bah ! " quoth Beresteyn with a shrug of the shoulders,
" you have made a nightmare of that thought. Treachery ?
there is no fear of treachery. Yourself, van Does,

276

Heemskerk and I are the only ones who know anything
at this moment of our plans for to-morrow. Do you
suspect van Does of treachery, or Heemskerk, or me ? "
"I was not thinking of Heemskerk or of van Does,"
rejoined Stoutenburg, "and even our men will know
nothing of the attack until the last moment. Danger,
friend, doth not lie in or around the molens; it lurks
at Rotterdam and hath name Gilda."
" Gilda ! What can you fear from Gilda now ? "
"Everything. Have you never thought on it, friend ?
Jan, remember, lost track of that knave soon after he
left Haarlem. At first he struck across the waterways
in a southerly direction and for awhile Jan and the others
were able to keep him in sight. But soon darkness
settled in and along many intricate backwaters our rogue
was able to give them the slip."
"I know that," rejoined Beresteyn somewhat impa-
tiently. "I was here in the early morning when Jan
reported to you. He also told you that he and his men
pushed on as far as Leyden that night and regained the
road to Rotterdam the following day. At Zegwaard
and again at Zevenhuizen they ascertained that a party
consisting of two women in a sledge and an escort of
three cavaliers had halted for refreshments at those
places and then continued their journey southwards.
Since then Jan has found out definitely that Gilda and
her escort arrived early last night at the house of Ben
Isaje of Rotterdam, and he came straight on here to
report to you. Frankly I see notling in all this to
cause you so much anxiety."
" You think then that everything is for the best ? "
asked Stoutenburg grimly, " you did not begin to wonder
how it was that-as Jan ascertained at Zegwaard and at
Zevenhuizen-Gilda continued her journey without any
protest. According to the people whom Jan questioned
she looked sad certainly, but she was always willing to re-
start on her way. What do you make of that, my friend ?"
Once more Beresteyn shrugged his shoulders.
" Gilda is proud," he said. " She hath resigned herself
to her fate."

THE M]OLENS

277

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

Stoutenburg laughed aloud.
"How little you-her own brother-know her," he
retorted. " Gilda resigned ? Gilda content to let events
shape themselves--such events as those which she heard
us planning in the Groote Kerk on New Year's Eve ?
Why, my friend, Gilda will never be resigned, she will
never be content until she hath moved earth and heaven
to save the Stadtholder from my avenging hand ! "
" But what can she do now ? Ben Isaje is honest in
business matters. It would not pay him to play his
customers false. And I have promised him two thousand
guilders if he keeps her safely as a prisoner of war, not
even to be let out on parole. Ben Isaje would not betray
me. He is too shrewd for that."
" That may be true of Ben Isaje himself ; but what of
his wife ? his sons or daughters if he have any ? his
serving wenches, his apprentices and his men ? How do
you know that they are not amenable to promises of
heavy bribes ? "
" But even then .. ."
" Do you not think that at Rotterdam every one by now
knows the Prince's movements ? He passed within half
a league of the town yesterday; there is not a serving
wench in that city at this moment who does not know
that Maurice of Nassau slept at Delft last night and
will start northwards to-morrow."
"And what of that ? " queried Beresteyn, trying to
keep up a semblance of that carelessness which he was
far from feeling now.
"Do you believe then that Gilda will stay quietly in
the house of Ben Isaje, knowing that the Prince is within
four leagues of her door ? . . . knowing that he will
start northwards to-morrow . . . knowing that my head-
quarters are here-close to Ryswyk . . knowing in fact
all that she knows ? "
" I had not thought on all that," murmured Beresteyn
under his breath.
"And there is another danger too, friend, greater
perhaps than any other," continued Stoutenburg vehe-
mently.

278

" Good G-d, Stoutenburg, what do you mean ? "
"That cursed foreign adventurer "
" What about him ? "
" Have you then never thought of him as being amen-
able to a bribe from Gilda."
" In Heaven's name, man, do not think of such awful
eventualities ! "
" But we must think of them, my good Beresteyn.
Events are shaping themselves differently to what we
expected. We must make preparations for our safety
accordingly, and above all realize the fact that Gilda
will move heaven and earth to thwart us in our plans."
" But she can do nothing," persisted Beresteyn sullenly,
"without betraying me. In Haarlem it was different.
She might have spoken to my father of what she knew,
but she would not do so to a stranger, knowing that with
one word she can send me first and all of you afterwards
to the scaffold."
Stoutenburg with an exclamation of angry impatience
brought his clenched fist crashing down upon the table.
"Are you a child, Beresteyn," he cried hotly, " or are
you wilfully blind to your danger and to mine. I tell
you that Gilda will never allow me to kill the Prince of
Orange without raising a finger to save him."
"But what can I do ? "
"Send for Gilda at once, to-night," urged Stouten-
burg, "convey her under escort hither . . . in all defer-
ence ... in all honour ... she would be here under
her brother's care."
"A woman in this place at such a moment," cried
Beresteyn; " you are mad, Stoutenburg."
" I shall go mad if she is not here," rejoined the other
more calmly, " the fear has entered into my soul, Nicolaes,
that Gilda will yet betray us at the eleventh hour. That
fear is an obsession . . . call it premonition if you will,
but it unmans me, friend."
Beresteyn was silent now. He drew his cloak closer
round his shoulders, for suddenly he felt a chill which
seemed to have crept into his bones.
" But it is unpractical, man," he persisted with a kind

THE cOLENS

279

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

of sullen despair. " Gilda and another woman here . . .
to-morrow . . . when not half a league away . ."
" Justice will be meted out to a tyrant and an assassin,"
broke in Stoutenburg quietly. " Gilda is not a woman
as other women are; though in her soul now she may
be shrinking at the thought of this summary justice, she
will be strong and brave when the hour comes. In any
case," he added roughly, "we can keep her closely
guarded, and in the miller's hut, with the miller and his
wife to look after her, she will be as safe and as comfort-
able as circumstances will allow. We should havel-her then
under our own eyes and know that she cannot betray us."
As usual Beresteyn was already yielding to the stronger
will, the more powerful personality of his friend. His
association with Stoutenburg had gradually blunted his
finer feelings; like a fly that is entangled in the web
of a spider, he tried to fight against the network of intrigue
and of cowardice which hemmed him in more and more
closely with every step that he took along the path of
crime. He was filled with remorse at thought of the
wrong which he had done to Gilda, but he was no longer
his own master. He was being carried away by the tide
of intrigue and by the fear of discovery, away from his
better self.
" You should have thought on all that sooner, Stouten-
burg," he said in final, feeble protest, " we need never
have sent Gilda to Rotterdam in the company of a
foreign adventurer of whom wei knew nothing."
" At the time it seemed simple enough," quoth Stouten-
burg impatiently, " you suggested the house- of Ben
Isaje the banker and it seemed an excellent plan. I did
not think of distance then, and it is only since we arrived
at Ryswyk that I realized how near all these places are
to one another, and how easy it would be for Gilda to
betray us even now."
Beresteyn was silent after that. It was easy to see
that his friend's restless anxiety was eating into his own
soul. Stoutenburg watched him with those hollow
glowing eyes of his that seemed to send a magnetic current
of strong will-power into the weaker vessel.

280

"Well! perhaps you are right," said Beresteyn at
last, " perhaps you are right. After all," he added half
to himself, " perhaps I shall feel easier in my conscience
when I have Gilda near me and feel that I can at least
watch over her."
Stoutenburg, having gained his point, jumped to his
feet and drew a deep breath of satisfaction.
"That's bravely said," he exclaimed. " Will you go
yourself at once to Rotterdam ? with two or three of
our most trusted men you could bring Gilda here with
absolute safety; you only need to make a slight detour
when you near Delft so as to avoid the city. You could
be here by six o'clock this evening at the latest, and Jan
in the meanwhile with a contingent of our stalwarts
shall try and find that abominable plepshurk again and
bring him here too without delay."
" No, no," said Beresteyn quickly, "I'll not go myself.
I could not bear to meet Gilda just yet. I will not
have her think that I had a hand in her abduction and
my presence might arouse her suspicions."
Stoutenburg laughed unconcernedly.
" You would rather that she thought I had instigated
the deed. Well ! " he added with a careless shrug, " my
shoulders are broad enough to bear the brunt of her wrath
if she does. An you will not go yourself we will give
full instructions to Jan. He shall bring Gilda and her
woman hither with due respect and despatch, and lay
the knave by the heels at the same time. Ten or a dozen
of our men or even more can easily be spared to-day,
there is really nothing for them to do, and they are best
out of mischief by being kept busy. Now while I go to
give Jan his instructions do you write a letter to Ben
Isaje, telling him that it is your wish that Gilda should
accompany the bearer of your sign-manual."
" But . "
"Tush, man 1 " exclaimed Stoutenburg impatiently,
while a tone of contempt rang through his harsh voice,
"you can so word the letter that even if it were found
it need not compromise you in any way. You might
just have discovered that your sister was in the hands

THE M~OLENS

281

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

of brigands, and be sending an escort to rescue her; Gilda
will be grateful to you then and ready to believe in you.
Write what you like, but for God's sake write quickly.
Every moment's delay drives me well-nigh distraught."
With jerky, feverish movements he pushed paper and
inkhorn nearer to Beresteyn, who hesitated no longer and
at once began to write. Stoutenburg went to the door
and loudly called for Jan.
Ten minutes later the letter was written, folded and
delivered into Jan's keeping, who was standing at atten-
tion and recapitulating the orders which had been given
him.
" I take a dozen men with me," he said slowly, " and
we follow the course of the Schie as far as Rotterdam.
Fortunately it is passable practically the whole of the
way."
Stoutenburg nodded in approval.
" I present this letter to Mynheer Ben Isaje, the banker,"
continued Jan, "and ask him at once to apprise the
jongejuffrouw that she deign to accompany us."
"Yes. That is right," quoth Stoutenburg, "but
remember that I want you above all things to find that
foreigner again. You said that he was sleeping last night
in Mynheer Ben Isaje's house."
" So I understood, my lord."
" Well ! you must move heaven and earth to find him.
Jan. I want him here-a prisoner-remember! Do not
let him slip through your fingers this time. It might
mean life or death to us all. By fair means or foul you
must lay him by the heels."
" It should not be difficult, my lord," assented Jan
quietly. " I will pick my men, and I have no doubt that
we shall come across the foreigner somewhere in the
neighbourhood. He cannot have gone far, and even if he
left the city we will easily come on his track."
" That's brave, Jan. Then come straight back here;
two or three of your men can in the meanwhile escort
the jongejuffrouw, who will travel by sledge. You must
avoid Delft of course, and make a detour there."
"I had best get horses at Rotterdam, my lord; the

282

sledge can follow the left bank of the Schie all the way,
which will be the best means of avoiding Delft."
" And remember," concluded Stoutenburg in his most
peremptory manner, " that you must all be back here
before ten o'clock to-night. The jongejuffrouw first and
you with the foreigner later. It is not much more than
eight o'clock now; you have the whole day before you.
Let the sledge pull up outside the miller's hut, everything
will be ready there by then for the jongejuffrouw's recep-
tion; and let your watchwords be 'Silence, discretion,
speed ! '-you understand ? "
"I understand, my lord," replied Jan simply as he
gave a military salute, then quietly turned on his heel
and went out of the room.
The two friends were once more alone, straining their ears
to catch every sound which came to them now from
below. Muffled and enveloped in the mist, the voice of
Jan giving brief words of command could be distinctly
heard, also the metallic click of skates and the tramping
of heavily-booted feet upon the ground. But ten minutes
later all these sounds had died away. Jan and his men
had gone to fetch Gilda-the poor little pawn moved
hither and thither by the ruthless and ambitious hands
of men.
Beresteyn had buried his head in his hands, in a sudden
fit of overpowering remorse. Stoutenburg looked onhim
silently for awhile, his haggard face appeared drawn and
sunken in the pale grey light which found its way through
the tiny window up above. Passion greater than that
which broke down the spirit of his friend, was tearing
at his heartstrings; ambition fought with love, and
remorse with determination. But through it all the
image of Gilda flitted before his burning eyes across
this dimly-lighted room, reproachful and sweet and
tantalizingly beautiful. The desire to have her near him
in the greatest hour of his life on the morrow, had been
the true mainspring which had prompted him to urge
Beresteyn to send for her. It seemed to him that Gilda's
presence would bring him luck in his dark undertaking
so heavily fraught with crime, and with a careless shrug

THE MOLENS

283

284 THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
of the shoulders he was ready to dismiss all thoughts
of the wrong which he had done her, in favour of his
hopes, his desire, his certainty that a glorious future in
his arms would compensate her for all that he had caused
her to endure.

CHAPTER XXXII

A RUN THROUGH THE NIGHT

THAT same morning of this fourth day of the New
Year found Gilda Beresteyn sitting silent and thoughtful
in the tiny room which had been placed at her disposal
in the house of Mynheer Ben Isaje, the banker.
A few hours ago she had come back to it, running
like some frightened animal who had just escaped an
awful-but unknown-danger, and had thrown herself
down on the narrow bed in the alcove in an agony of
soul far more difficult to bear than any sorrow which
had assailed her during the last few days.
A great, a vivid ray of hope had pierced the darkness of
her misery, it had flickered low at first, then had glowed
with wonderful intensity, flickered again and finally died
down as hope itself fell dying once more in the arms of
despair.
The disappointment which she had endured then
amounted almost to physical pain; her heart ached
and beat intolerably, and with that disappointment was
coupled a sense of hatred and of humiliation, different
to any suffering she had ever had to bear before.
A man could have helped her and had refused: he
could have helped her to avert a crime more hideous
than any that had ever blackened the pages of this coun-
try's history. With that one man's help she could have
stopped that crime from being committed and he had
refused . . . nay more ! he had first dragged her secret
from her, word by word, luring her into thoughts of
security with the hope that he dangled before her.
285

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

He knew everything now: she had practically ad-
mitted everything, save the identity of those whose
crime she wished to avert. But even that identity
would be easy for the man to guess. Stoutenburg, of
course, had paid him to lay hands on her . . . but her
brother Nicolaes was Stoutenburg's friend and ally, and
his life and that of his friends were now in the hands of
that rogue, who might betray them with the knowledge
which he had filched from her.
No wonder that hour after hour she lay prostrate on
the bed, while these dark thoughts hammered away in
her brain. The Prince of Orange walking unknowingly
straight to his death, or Nicolaes-her brother-and
his friends betrayed to the vengeance of that Prince.
Ghosts of those who had already died-victims to that
same merciless vengeance--flitted in the darkness before
her feverish fancy: John of Barneveld, the Lord of
Grceneveld, the sorrowing widows and fatherless chil-
dren . . and in their trail the ghost of the great
Stadtholder, William the Silent, murdered-as his son
would be-at Delft, close to Ryswyk and the molens,
where even now Nicolaes her brother was learning the
final lesson of infamy.
When in the late morning Maria came into the room
to bring her mistress some warm milk and bread, and to
minister to her comforts, she found her dearly loved
jongejuffrouw wide-eyed and feverish.
But not a word could she get out of Gilda while she
dressed her hair, except an assurance that their troubles-
as far as Maria could gauge them-would soon be over
now, and that in twenty-four hours mayhap they would
be escorted back to Haarlem.
" When, I trust, that I shall have the joy of seeing
three impudent knaves swing on gibbets in the Market
Place," quoth Maria decisively, " and one of them-the
most impudent of the lot-drawn and quartered, or
burnt at the stake ! " she added with savage insistence.
When Gilda was ready dressed, she asked for leave
to speak with Mynheer Ben Isaje. The Jew, obsequious
and affable, received her with utmost deference, and in

286

A RUN THROUGH THE NIGHT

a few words put the situation before her. Mevrouw
Isaje, he said, was from home : he had not been apprised
of the jongejuffrouw's coming, or his wife would have
been ready to receive her at his private house, which was
situate but half a league out of Rotterdam. But Mevrouw
Isaje would return from the visit which she had been
paying to her father in the course of the afternoon, until
that hour Mynheer Ben Isaje begged that the jonge-
juffrouw would look upon this miserable hovel as her
property and would give what orders she desired for the
furtherance of her comfort. In the afternoon, he con-
cluded, an escort would once more be ready to convey
the jongejuffrouw to that same private house of his, where
there was a nice garden and a fine view over the Schie
instead of the confined outlook on squalid houses op-
posite, which was quite unworthy of the jongejuffrouw's
glance.
Gilda did not attempt to stay the flow of Ben Isaje's
eloquence: she thanked him graciously for everything
that he had already done for her comfort.
Maria-more loquacious, and bubbling over with
indignation-asked him when this outrageous con-
finement of her person and that of her exalted mistress
at the hands of brigands would cease, and if Mynheer
Ben Isaje was aware that such confinement against the
jongejuffrouw's will would inevitably entail the punish-
ment of hanging.
But thereupon Mynheer Ben Isaje merely rubbed his
thin hands together and became as evasive first and then
as mute as only those of his race can contrive to be.
Then Gilda-making an effort to speak unconcernedly-
asked him what had become of the men who had brought
her hither from Haarlem.
"They spent half the night eating and drinking at
the tavern, mejuffrouw," said the Jew blandly.
"Ah ! " rejoined Gilda quietly, "methought one of
them had found hospitality under your roof."
" So he had, mejuffrouw. But this morning when I
called him-for I had some business to transact with
him-I found his room already empty. No doubt he

287

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

had gone to join his companions at the tavern. But the
rascal's movements need not disturb the jongejuffrouw
for one moment. After to-day she need never set eyes
on him again."
" Save when he is hanging on a gibbet in the Groote
Markt," broke in Maria viciously. "I for one never
go to see such sights, but when that rascal hangs it
shall be a holiday for me to go and get a last look at
him."

Later on in the day, Ben Isaje, more affable and obse-
quious than he had ever been, came to announce to the
jongejuffrouw that her sledge was awaiting her at the
top of the street.
Silently and resignedly as had been her wont these
past two days Gilda Beresteyn, wrapping her cloak and
hood closely round her, followed Mynheer Ben Isaje
out of the house. Maria walked immediately behind
her, muttering imprecations against brigands, and threat-
ening dire punishments against every Jew.
Though it was only three o'clock in the afternoon, it
was already quite dark in this narrow street, where tall
gables almost touched one another at the top: only
from the tiny latticed windows feeble patches of yellow
light glimmered weirdly through the fog.
The sledge was waiting at the top of the street, as
Mynheer Ben Isaje had said. Gilda shuddered as soon as
she caught sight of it again; it represented so much
that was vivid and tangible of her present anxiety and
sorrow. It stood upon an open market-place, with the
driver sitting up at his post and three horses harnessed
thereto. The small tavern was at the corner on the
left, and as Gilda walked rapidly up to the sledge, she
saw two of the men who had been escorting her hitherto,
the thin man with the abnormally long legs, and the fat
one with the red nose and round eyes : but of the third
tall, splendid figure she did not catch one glimpse.
The two men nudged one another as she passed, and
whispered excitedly to one another, but she could not
hear what they said, and the next moment she found

288

A RUN THROUGH THE NIGHT

herself being handed into the vehicle by Ben Isaje, who
thereupon took humble leave of her.
"You are not coming with us, mynheer ? " she asked
in astonishment.
"Not . . . not just yet, mejuffrouw," murmured
the Jew somewhat incoherently, "it is too early yet in
the afternoon . . . er .. . for me to ... to leave my
business . . . I have the honour to bid the jongejuffrouw
' Godspeed.' "
" But," said Gilda, who suddenly misliked Ben Isaje's
manner, yet could not have told you why, " the mevrouw
-your wife-she is ready to receive me ? "
"Of a truth-certainly," replied the man. Gilda
would have given much to question him further. She
was quite sure that there was something strange in his
manner, something that she mistrusted; but just as she
was about to speak again, there was a sudden command
of "Forward ! " the driver cracked his whip, the harness
jingled, the sledge gave a big lurch forward and the next
moment Gilda found herself once more being rushed at
great speed through the cold night air.
She could not see much round her, for the fog out in
the open seemed even more dense than it was inside the
city and the darkness of the night crept swiftly through
the fog. All that she knew for certain was that the city
was very soon left behind, that the driver was urging his
horses on to unusual speed, and that she must be travel-
ling along a river bank, because when the harness rattled
and jingled less loudly than usual, she could hear dis-
tinctly the clink of metal skates upon the ice, as way-
farers no doubt were passing to and fro.
Solitary as she was-for Maria and her eternal grum-
blings were but poor company-she fell to thinking
again over the future, as she had done not only last
night but through the past few interminable days; it
almost seemed as if she had never, never thought of
anything else, as if those same few days stretched out
far away behind her into dim and nebulous infinity.
During those days she had alternately hoped and
feared and been disappointed only to hope again; but

289

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

the disappointment of last night was undoubtedly the
most bitter that she had yet experienced. So bitter
had it been that for a time-after its intense poignancy
had gone-her faculties and power of thinking had be-
come numbed, and now, very gradually, unknown at
first even to herself, hope shook itself free from the grip
of disappointment and peeped up at her out of the abyss
of her despair.
Did that unscrupulous knave really have the last word
in the matter ? had his caprice the power to order the
destiny of this land and the welfare of its faith ?
Bah ! the very thought was monstrous and impossible.
Was the life of the Prince of Orange to be sacrificed
because a rascal would not help her to give him that
word of warning which might save him even now at the
eleventh hour ?
No ! Gilda Beresteyn refused to believe that God-
who had helped the armies of the Netherlands throughout
their struggle against the might of Spain-would allow
a rogue to have so much power. After all, she was not
going to be shut up in prison ! she was going to the house
of ordinary, respectable burghers; true, they were of
alien and of despised faith, but .they were well-to-do,
had a family, serving women and men.
Surely among these there would be one who-amen-
able to cajoleries or to promises-would prove to be the
instrument sent by God to save the Stadtholder from
an assassin's dagger !
Gilda Beresteyn, wrapped in this new train of thought,
lost count of time, of distance and of cold: she lived
during one whole hour in the happiness of this newly-
risen hope, making plans, conjecturing, rehearsing over
in her mind what she would say, how she would probe
the loyalty, the kindness of those who would be around
her to-night.
Delft was so near ! and after all even Maria might be
bribed to forget her fears and her grievances and to
become that priceless instrument of salvation of which
Gilda dreamed as the sledge flew swiftly along through
the night.

29go

A RUN THROUGH THE NIGHT

It was Maria who roused her suddenly out of these
happy fancies a Maria who said plaintively :
" Shall we never get to that verdommte house. The
Jew said that it was only situate half a league from
Rotterdam."
" We must be close to it," murmured Gilda.
" Close to it ! " retorted Maria, " we seem to be burning
the ground under the horses' hoofs-we have left Rotter-
dam behind us this hour past ... It is the longest
half league that I have ever known."
"Peep out under the hood, Maria. Cannot you see
where we are ? "
Maria peeped out as she was bid.
" I can see the lights of a city far away on our right,"
she said. " From the direction in which we have been
going and the ground which we have covered I should
guess that city to be Delft."
"Delft!" exclaimed Gilda, smothering a louder
scream.
The driver had just pulled up his horses, allowing them
to go at a walk so as to restore their wind and ease them
for awhile. Gilda tried her best to peer through the
darkness. All that she could see were those lights far
away on the right which proclaimed the distant city.
A chill struck suddenly to her heart. Ben Isaje had
lied! Why? She was not being taken to his house
which was situate half a league outside Rotterdam . . .
then whither was she being taken ? What new misery,
what new outrage awaited her now ?
The lights of the distant city receded further and
further away from her view, the driver once more put
his horses at a trot, the sledge moved along more smoothly
now: it seemed as if it were going over the surface of the
river. Delft was being left behind, and the sledge was
following the course of the Schie... on toward
Ryswyk .. .
The minutes sped on, another quarter of an hour,
another half hour, another hour in this dread suspense.
The driver was urging his horses unmercifully: he gave
them but little rest. It was only when for a few brief

291

292 THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
moments he put them at walking pace, that Gilda heard--
all around her as it seemed-that metallic click of skates
which told her that the sledge was surrounded by men
who were there to watch over her and see that she did
not escape.

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE CAPTIVE LION

BERESTEYN was sitting at the table in the weighing-
room of the molens : his elbows rested on the table, and
his right hand supported his head; in the feeble light of
the lanthorn placed quite close to him, his face looked
sullen and dark, and his eyes, overshadowed by his frown-
ing brows, were fixed with restless eagerness upon the
narrow door.
Stouteanburg, with hands crossed over his chest, with
head bare and collar impatiently torn away from round
his neck, was pacing up and down the long, low room
like a caged beast of prey.
" Enter i" he shouted impatiently in response to a
loud knock on the door. Then as Jan entered, and having
saluted, remained standing by the door, he paused in his
feverish walk, and asked in a curiously hoarse voice,
choked with anxiety:
"Is everything all right, Jan ? "
"Everything, my lord."
" The jongejuffrouw ? . . "
" In the hut, my lord. There is a good fire there and
the woman is preparing some hot supper for the lady."
"How does she seem ? "
" She stepped very quietly out of the sledge, my lord,
the moment I told her that we had arrived. She asked
no questions, and walked straight into the hut. Me-
seemed that the jongejuffrouw knew exactly where she
was."
" The woman will look after her comforts well ? "
293

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

" Oh yes, my lord, though she is only a rough peasant,
she will try and do her best, and the jongejuffrouw has
her own waiting woman with her as well."
" And the horses ? "
" In the shed behind the hut."
"Look after them well, Jan: we may want to use
them again to-morrow."
" They shall be well looked after, my lord."
" And you have placed the sentry outside the hut ? "
"Two men in the front and two in the rear, as you
have commanded, my lord."
Stoutenburg drew a deep breath of satisfaction: but
anxiety seemed to have exhausted him, for now that his
questions had been clearly answered, he sank into a
chair.
" All well, Nicolaes," he said more calmly as he placed
a re-assuring hand upon his friend's shoulder.
But Nicolaes groaned aloud.
" Would to God," he said, " that all were well I "
Smothering an impatient retort Stoutenburg once
more turned to Jan.
"And what news of the foreigner ? " he queried eagerly.
" We have got him, my lord," replied Jan.
"By G-d ! " exclaimed Stoutenburg, "how did you
do it ? "
His excitement was at fever pitch now. He was lean-
ing forward, and his attitude was one of burning expect-
ancy. His hollow eyes were fixed upon Jan's lips as if
they would extract from them the glad news which they
held. Whatever weakness there was in Stoutenburg's
nature, one thing in him was strong--and that was hatred.
He could hate with an intensity of passion worthy of a
fine cause. He hated the Stadtholder first, and secondly
the nameless adventurer who had humiliated him and
forced him to lick the dust: wounded in his vanity
and in his arrogance he was consumed with an inordinate
desire for revenge. The hope that this revenge was now
at last in sight--that the man whom he hated so des-
perately was now in his power-almost caused the light
of mania to dance in his glowing eyes.

294

THE CAPTIVE LION

"' How did you do it, Jan ? " he reiterated hoarsely.
"It was not far from the molens," said Jan simply,
" until then he gave us the slip, though we spied him just
outside Delft on our way to Rotterdam this morning.
My impression is that he went back to Rotterdam then,
and that he followed the jongejuffrouw's sledge practically
all the way. Close to the molens he was forced to draw
a little nearer as it was getting very dark and probably he
did not know his way about. I am convinced that he
wished to ascertain exactly whither we were taking the
jongejuffrouw. At any rate, I and some of our fellows
who had lagged in the rear caught sight of him then . . ."
" And you seized him ? " cried Stoutenburg with exul-
tant joy.
"He was alone, my lord," replied Jan with a placid
smile, " and there were seven of us at the time. Two
or three of the men, though, are even now nursing un-
pleasant wounds. I myself fared rather badly with a
bruised head and half-broken collar-bone . . . The man
is a demon for fighting, but there were seven of us."
" Well done, Jan I " cried Beresteyn now, for Stouten-
burg had become speechless with the delight of this
glorious news ; " and what did you do with the rogue ? "
" We tied him securely with ropes and dragged him
along with us. Oh ! we made certain of him, my lord,
you may be sure of that. And now I and another man
have taken him down into the basement below and we
have fastened him to one of the beams, where I imagine the
north-west wind will soon cool his temper."
" Aye, that it will ! " quoth Stoutenburg lustily. " Take
the lanthorn, Jan, and let us to him at once. Beresteyn,
friend, will you come too ? Your hand like mine must be
itching to get at the villain's face."
The two men took good care to wrap their cloaks well
round their shoulders and to pull their fur caps closely
round their ears. Thus muffled up against the bitterness
of the night, they went out of the molens, followed by
Jan, who carried the lanthorn.
Outside the door, steep, ladder-like steps led to the
ground. The place referred to by Jan as " the basement "

295

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

was in reality the skeleton foundations on which the molens
rested. These were made up of huge beams--green and
slimy with age, and driven deep down into the muddy
flat below. Ten feet up above, the floor of the molens
sat towering aloft. Darkness like pitch reigned on this
spot, but as Jan swung his lanthorn along, the solid
beams detached themselves one by one out of the gloom,
their ice-covered surface reflected the yellow artificial
light, and huge icicles of weird and fantastic shapes like
giant arms and fingers stretched out hung down from the
transverse bars and from the wooden frame-work of the
molens above.
To one of the upright beams a man was securely fastened
with ropes wound round about his body. His powerful
muscles were straining against the cords which tied his
arms behind his back. A compassionate hand had put
his broad-brimmed hat upon his head, to protect his
ears and nose against the frost, but his mighty chest was
bare, for doublet and shirt had been torn in the reckless
fight which preceded final capture.
Jan held up the lanthorn and pointed out to my lord
the prisoner whom he was so proud to have captured.
The light fell full upon the pinioned figure, splendid in its
air of rebellious helplessness. Here was a man, momen-
tarily conquered it is true, but obviously not vanquished,
and though the ropes now cut into his body, though the
biting wind lashed his bare chest, and dark stains showed
upon his shirt, the spirit within was as free and untram-
melled as ever--the spirit of independence and of adventure
which is willing to accept the knockdown blows of fate as
readily and cheerfully as her favours.
Despite the torn shirt and the ragged doublet there was
yet an air of swagger about the whole person of the man,
swagger that became almost insolent as the Lord of
Stoutenburg approached. He threw back his head and
looked his sworn enemy straight in the face, his eyes were
laughing still, and a smile of cool irony played round his
lips.
" Well done, Jan! " quoth Stoutenburg with a deep
sigh of satisfaction.

296

THE CAPTIVE LION
He was standing with arms akimbo and legs wide apart,
enjoying to the full the intense delight of gazing for awhile
in silence on his discomfitted enemy.
" Ah I but it is good," he said at last, " to look upon
a helpless rogue."
" 'Tis a sight then," retorted the prisoner lightly,
"which your Magnificence hath often provided for your
friends and your adherents."
" Bah ! " rejoined Stoutenburg, who was determined
to curb his temper if he could, " your insolence now, my
man, hath not the power to anger me. It strikes me as
ludicrous--even pathetic in its senselessness. An I
were in your unpleasant position, I would try by sub-
mission to earn a slight measure of leniency from my
betters."
"No doubt you would, my lord," quoth Diogenes
dryly, " but you see I have up to now not yet come across
my betters. When I do, I may take your advice."
"Verdommte Keerl! What say you, Beresteyn,"
added Stoutenburg turning to his friend, " shall we leave
him here to-night to cool his impudence; we can always
hang him to-morrow."
Beresteyn made no immediate reply, his face was pale
and haggard, and his glance--shifty and furtive-seemed
to avoid that of the prisoner.
" You must see that the fellow is well guarded, Jan,"
resumed Stoutenburg curtly, " give him some food, but
on no account allow him the slightest freedom."
" My letters to Ben Isaje," murmured Beresteyn, as
Stoutenburg already turned to go. " Hath he perchance
got them by him still ? "
" The letters ! yes ! I had forgotten ! " said the other.
"Search him, Jan I " he commanded.
Jan put down the lanthorn and then proceeded to lay
rough hands upon the captive philosopher ; he had a heavy
score to pay off against him-an aching collar-bone and
a bruised head, and the weight of a powerful fist to avenge.
He was not like to be gentle in his task. He tore at the
prisoner's doublet and in his search for a hidden pocket he
disclosed an ugly wound which had lacerated the shoulder.

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
" Some of us took off our skates," he remarked casually,
"and brought him down with them. The blades were
full sharp, and we swung them by their straps; they
made excellent weapons thus; the fellow should have
more than one wound about him."
"Three, my good Jan, to be quite accurate," said
Diogenes calmly, " but all endurable. I had ten about
me outside Prague once, but the fellows there were
fighting better than you, and in a worthier cause."
Jan's rough hands continued their exhaustive search;
a quickly smothered groan from the prisoner caused
Stoutenburg to laugh.
" That sound," he said, " was music to mine ear."
Jan now drew a small leather wallet and a parchment
roll both from the wide flap of the prisoner's boot. Stout-
enburg pounced upon the wallet, and Beresteyn with
eager anxiety tore the parchment out of Jan's hand.
" It is the formal order to Ben Isaje," he said, " to pay
over the money to this knave. Is there anything else,
Jan ? " he continued excitedly, " a thinner paper ?-
shaped like a letter ? "
" Nothing else, mynheer," replied Jan.
"Did you then deliver my letter to Ben Isaje, fellow ? "
queried Beresteyn of the prisoner.
" My friend Jan should be able to tell you that," he
replied, " hath he not been searching the very folds of my
skin."
In the meanwhile Stoutenburg had been examining the
contents of the wallet.
"Jewellery belonging to the jongejuffrouw," he said dryly,
" which this rogue hath stolen from her. Will you take
charge of them, Nicolaes ? And here," he added, counting
out a few pieces of gold and silver, " is some of your own
money."
He made as if he would return this to Beresteyn, then
a new idea seemed to strike him, for he put all the money
back into the wallet and said to Jan :
"Put this wallet back where you found it, Jan, and
Nicolaes," he added turning back to his friend, "will
you allow me to look at that bond ? "

THE CAPTIVE LION

While Jan obeyed and replaced the wallet in the flap
of the prisoner's boot, Beresteyn handed the parchment
to Stoutenburg. The latter then ordered Jan to hold up
the lanthorn so that by its light he might read the
writing.
This he did, twice over, with utmost attention; after
which he tore off very carefully a narrow strip from the
top of the document.
" Now," he said quietly, " this paper, wherever found,
cannot compromise you in any way, Nicolaes. The
name of Ben Isaje who alone could trace the cypher
signature back to you, we will scatter to the winds."
And he tore the narrow strip which he had severed from
the document into infinitesimal fragments, which he then
allowed the wind to snatch out of his hand and to whirl
about and away into space. But the document itself he
folded up with ostentatious care.
" What do you want with that ? " asked Beresteyn
anxiously.
"I don't know yet, but it might be very useful,"
replied the other. " So many things may occur within the
next few days that such an ambiguously worded document
might prove of the utmost value."
" But . .. the signature . . ." urged Beresteyn, " my
father . ."
"The signature, you told me, friend, is one that you use
in the ordinary way of business, whilst the wording of the
document in itself cannot compromise you in any way;
it is merely a promise to pay for services rendered. Leave
this document in my keeping; believe me, it is quite safe
with me and might yet be of incalculable value to us.
One never knows."
" No! one never does know," broke in the prisoner
airily, " for of a truth when there's murder to be done,
pillage or outrage, the Lord of Stoutenburg never knows
what other infamy may come to his hand."
" Insolent knave! " exclaimed Stoutenburg hoarsely,
as with a cry of unbridled fury he suddenly raised his
arm and with the parchment roll which he held, he struck
the prisoner savagely in the face.

299

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

"Take care, Stoutenburg," ejaculated Beresteyn al-
most involuntarily.
" Take care of what," retorted the other with a harsh
laugh, "the fellow is helpless, thank God i and I would
gladly break my riding whip across his impudent face."
He was livid and shaking with fury. Beresteyn--
honestly fearing that in his blind rage he would compromise
his dignity before his subordinates---dragged him by the
arm away from the presence of this man whom he appeared
to hate with such passionate intensity.
Stoutenburg, obdurate at first, almost drunk with his
own fury, tried to free himself from his friend's grasp.
He wanted to lash the man he hated once more in the face,
to gloat for a while longer on the sight of his enemy now
completely in his power. But all around in the gloom
he perceived figures that moved; the soldiers and mer-
cenaries placed at his disposal by his friends were here in
numbers: some of them had been put on guard over the
prisoner by Jan, and others had joined them, attracted
by loud voices.
Stoutenburg had just enough presence of mind left
in him to realize that the brutal striking of a defenceless
prisoner would probably horrify these men, who were
fighters and not bullies, and might even cause them to
turn from their allegiance to him.
So with a desperate effort he pulled himself together
and contrived to give with outward calm some final
orders to Jan.
'' See that the ropes are securely fastened, Jan," he
said, " leave half a dozen men on guard, then follow me."
But to Beresteyn, who had at last succeeded in dragging
him away from this spot, he said loudly :
" You do not know, Nicolaes, what a joy it is to me to
be even with that fellow at last."
A prolonged laugh, that had a note of triumph in it;
gave answer to this taunt, whilst a clear voice shouted
lustily :
" Nay ! we never can be quite even, my lord ; since you
were not trussed like a capon when I forced you to lick
the dust."

300

CHAPTER XXXIV

PROTESTATIONS

HALF AN HOUR later, the Lord of Stoutenburg was in
Gilda's presence. Hle was glad enough that Nicolaes
Beresteyn-afraid to meet his sister-had refused to
accompany him. He, too, felt nervous and anxious at
thought of meeting her face to face at last. He had not
spoken to her since that day in March when he was a
miserable fugitive-in a far worse plight than was the
wounded man tied with cords to a beam. He had been
a hunted creature then, every man's hand raised against
him, his life at the mercy of any passer-by, and she had
given him shelter freely and fearlessly- shelter and
kind words-and her ministrations had brought him
luck, for he succeeded in reaching the coast after he
parted from her, and finding shelter once more in a foreign
land.
Since then her image had filled his dreams by night
and his thoughts by day. His earlier love for her,
smothered by ambition, rose up at once more strong,
more insistent than before; it became during all these
months of renewed intrigues and plots the one ennobling
trait in his tortuous character. His love for Gilda was
in itself not a selfish feeling; neither ambition nor the
mere gratification of obstinate desire entered in its
composition. He loved Gilda for herself alone, with all
the adoration which a pious man would have given to
his God, and while one moment of his life was occupied
in planning a ruthless and dastardly murder, the other
was filled with hopes of a happier future, with Gilda
sor

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

beside him as his idolized wife. But though his love was
in itself pure and selfless, he remained tru to his un-
scrupulous nature in the means which he adopted in
order to win the object of his love.
Even now, when he entered her presence in the miserable
peasant's hut where he chose to hold her a prisoner, he
felt no remorse at the recollection of what she must have
suffered in the past few days; his one thought was-
now that he had her completely under his control-how
he could best plead his cause first, or succeed in coercing
her will if she proved unkind.
She received him quite calmly, and even with a gracious
nod of the head, and he thought that he had never seen
her look more beautiful than she did now, in her straight
white gown, with that sweet, sad face of hers framed by a
wealth of golden curls. In this squalid setting of white-
washed walls and rafters blackened with age, she looked
indeed---he thought-like one of those fairy princesses
held prisoner by a wicked ogre--of whom he used to read
long ago when he was a child, before sin and treachery and
that insatiable longing for revenge had wholly darkened
his soul.
With bare head and back bent nearly double in the
depth of his homage he approached his divinity.
" It is gracious of you, mejuffrouw, to receive me," he
said forcing his harsh voice to tones of gentleness.
" I had not the power to refuse, my lord," she replied
quietly, " seeing that I am in your hands and entirely at
your commands."
" I entreat you do not say that," he rejoined eagerly,
" there is no one here who has the right to command
save yourself. 'Tis I am in your hands and your most
humble slave."
"A truce to this farce, my lord," she retorted im-
patiently. "I were not here if you happened to be my
slave, and took commands from me."
" 'Tis true mayhap that you would not be here now,
mejuffrouw," he said blandly, "but I could only act for
the best, and as speedily as I could. The moment I
heard that you were in the hands of brigands I moved

302

PROTESTATIONS

heaven and earth to find out where you were. I only
heard this morning that you were in Rotterdam . . ."
" You heard that I was in the hands of brigands," she
murmured, almost gasping with astonishment, "you
heard this morning that I was in Rotterdam . . . ? "
"I sent spies and messengers in every direction the
moment I heard of the abominable outrage against your
person," he continued with well-feigned vehemence. "I
cannot even begin to tell you what I endured these past
three days, until at last, by dint of ruse and force, I was
able to circumvent the villains who held you captive, and
convey you hither in safety and profound respect until
such time as I can find a suitable escort to take you back
to your father."
" If what you say is true, my lord, you could lend me
an escort at once, that I might return to my dear father
forthwith. Truly he must have broken his heart by now,
weeping for me."
" Have I not said that I am your slave ? " he rejoined
gently, "an you desire to return to Haarlem immedi-
ately, I will see about an escort for you as quickly as may
be. The hour is late now," he added hypocritically, " but
a man can do much when his heart's desire lies in doing
the behests of a woman whom he worships."
Though she frowned at these last words of his, she
leaned forward eagerly to him.
" You will let me go... at once . . . to-night ? "
"At once if it lies in my power," he replied unblush-
ingly, "but I fear me that you will have to wait a few
hours; the night is as dark as pitch. It were impossible
to make a start in it. To-morrow, however . . ."
" To-morrow ? " she cried anxiously, "'Tis to-night
that I wish to go."
" The way to Haarlem is long .. ." he murmured.
" 'Tis not to Haarlem, my lord, but to Delft that I long
to go."
"To Delft ? " he exclaimed with a perfect show of
astonishment.
She bit her lip and for the moment remained silent. It
had, indeed, been worse than folly to imagine that he-

303

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

of all men in the world-would help her to go to Delft.
But he had been so gentle, so kind, apparently so ready
to do all that she asked, that for the moment she forgot
that he and he alone was the mover of that hideous
conspiracy to murder which she still prayed to God that
she might avert.
"I had forgotten, my lord," she said, as tears threatened
to choke her voice, "I had forgotten."
" Forgotten ? What ? " he asked blankly.
" That you are not like to escort me to Delft."
" Why not to Delft, an you wish to go there ? "
" But . . ." she murmured, " the Stadtholder. ."
"Ah!" he exclaimed, " now I understand. You are
thinking of what you overheard in the cathedral of
Haarlem."
" Indeed, how could I forget it ? "
" Easily now, Gilda," he replied with solemn earnest-
ness. "The plans which my friends and I formed on
that night have been abandoned."
"Abandoned ? "'
"' Yes 1 Your brother was greatly impressed by all
that you said to him. He persuaded us all to think more
lengthily over the matter. Then came the news of the
outrage upon your person, and all thoughts of my ambi-
tion and of my revenge faded before this calamity, and I
have devoted every hour of mine existence since then to
find you and to restore you to your home."
Bewildered, wide-eyed; Gilda listened to him. In all
her life hitherto, she had never come into contact with
lying and with deceit: she had never seen a man lying
unblushingly, calmly, not showing signs of confusion or
of fear. Therefore, the thought that this man could be
talking so calmly, so simply, so logically, and yet be
trying to deceive her, never for one moment entered her
head. The events of the past few days crowded in upon
her brain in such a maddening array, that, as she sat
here now, face to face with the man whom she had been
so ready to suspect, she could not disentangle from those
events one single fact that could justify her suspicions.
Even looking back upon the conversation which she

304

PROTESTATIONS

had had with that impudent rogue in Leyden and again
last night, she distinctly remembered now that he had
never really said a single thing that implicated the Lord
of Stoutenburg or any one else in this villainy.
She certainly was bewildered and very puzzled now:
joy at the thought that after all the Stadtholder was safe,
joy that her brother's hand would not be stained with
murder, or his honour with treachery, mingled with a
vague sense of mistrust which she was powerless to com-
bat, yet felt ashamed to admit.
"Then, my lord," she murmured at last, " do you
really tell me that the outrage of which I have been the
victim was merely planned by villains, for mercenary
motives ? "
" What else could have prompted it ? " he asked
blandly.
" Neither you . . nor.., nor any of your friends
had a hand in it ? " she insisted.
" I ? " he exclaimed with a look of profound horror.
" I ? .. . to do you such a wrong ! For what purpose,
ye gods ? "
" To . . . to keep me out of the way .. ."
"I understand," he said simply. "And you, Gilda,
believed this of me ? "
" I believed it," she replied calmly.
" You did not realize then that I would give every drop
of my blood to save you one instant's pain ? "
" I did not realize," she said more coldly, "that you
would give up your ambition for any woman or for
anything."
" You do not believe, then, that I love you ? "
"Speak not of love, my lord," she retorted, "it is a
sacred thing. And you methinks do not know what lQve
is."
" Indeed you are right, Gilda," he said, " I do not know
what is the love of ordinary men. But if to love you,
Gilda, means that every thought, every hope, every
prayer is centred upon you, if it means that neither sleep,
nor work, nor danger, can for one single instant chase your
image from my soul, if to love you means that my very

305

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

sinews ache with the longing to hold you in my arms, and
that every moment which keeps me from your side is
torture worse than hell; if love means all that, Gilda,
then do I know to mine own hurt what love is."
" And in your ambition, my lord, you allowed that love
to be smothered," she retorted calmly. " It is too late
now to speak of it again, to any woman save to Walburg
de Marnix."
" I'll speak of it to you, Gilda, while the breath in my
body lasts. Walburg de Marnix is no longer my wife.
The law of our country has already set me free."
" The law of God binds you to her. I pray you speak
ao more of such things to me."
" You are hard and cruel, Gilda."
" I no longer love you."
" You will love again," he retorted confidently; " in the
meanwhile, have I regained your trust ? "
" Not even that, wholly," she replied.
" Let me at least do one thing in my own justification,"
he pleaded. " Allow me to prove to you now and at once
that-great though my love is for you, and maddening
my desire to have you near me-I could not be guilty of
such an outrage, as I know that in your heart you do
accuse me of."
" I did accuse you of it, my lord, I own. But how can
you prove me wrong now and at once ? "
" By bringing before you the only guilty person in this
network of infamy," he replied hotly.
" You know him then ? "
" For these three days now I and my faithful servants
have tracked him. I have him here now a prisoner at
last. His presence before you will prove to you that I at
least bore no share in the hideous transaction."
" Of whom do you speak, my lord ? " she asked.
" Of the man who dared to lay hands upon you in
Haarlem . . ."
" He is here-now ? " she exclaimed.
"A helpless prisoner in my hands," he replied, "to-
morrow summary justice shall be meted out to him, and
he will receive the punishment which his infamy deserves."

306

PROTESTATIONS

" But he did not act on his own initiative," she said
eagerly, " another man more powerful, richer than he,
prompted him--paid him-tempted him . . ."
Stoutenburg made a gesture of infinite contempt.
" So, no doubt, he has told you, Gilda. Men of his
stamp are always cowards at heart, even though they
have a certain brutish instinct for fighting-mostly in
self-defence. He tried to palliate his guilt before you
by involving me in its responsibility."
" You," she whispered under her breath, " or one of
your friends."
"You mean your brother Nicolaes," he rejoined
quietly. "Ah ! the man is even a more arrant knave
than I thought. So ! he has tried to fasten the responsi-
bility for this outrage against your person, firstly on me
who worship the very ground you walk on, secondly on
the brother whom you love ? "
" No, no," she protested eagerly, " I did not say that.
It was I who .. ."
" Who thought so ill of me," broke in Stoutenburg with
gentle reproach, " of me and of Nicolaes. You questioned
the rogue, and he did not deny it, nay more he enlarged
upon the idea, which would place all the profits of this
abominable transaction in his hands and yet exonerate
him from guilt. But you shall question him yourself,
Gilda. By his looks, by his answers, by his attitude,
you will be able to judge if I or Nicolaes-or any of our
friends, have paid him to lay hands upon you. Remember
however," he added significantly, " that such a low-born
knave will always lie to save his skin, so this do I entreat
of you on my knees: judge by his looks more than by
his words, and demand a proof of what he asserts."
" I will judge, my lord, as I think best," she retorted
coldly. " And now, I pray you, send for the man. I
would like to hear what he has to say."
Stoutenburg immediately turned to obey: there was
a guard outside the door, and it was easy to send one of
the men with orders to Jan to bring the prisoner hither.
Within himself he was frankly taken aback at Gilda's
ready acquiescence--nay obvious desire to parley with

307

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

the foreigner. A sharp pang of jealousy had shot through
his heart when he saw her glowing eyes, her eagerness to
defend the knave. The instinct that guided his fierce
love for Gilda, had quickly warned him that here was a
danger of which he had never even dreamed.
Women were easily swayed, he thought, by a smooth
tongue and a grand manner, both of which-Stoutenburg
was bound to admit-the rogue possessed in no scanty
measure. Fortunately the mischief-if indeed mischief
there was-had only just begun: and of a truth reason
itself argued that Gilda must loathe and despise the
villain who had wronged her so deeply: moreover
Stoutenburg had every hope that the coming interview
if carefully conducted would open Gilda's eyes more fully
still to the true character of the foreign mercenary with
the unctuous tongue and the chivalrous ways.
In any case the Lord of Stoutenburg himself had
nothing to fear from that interview, and he felt that his
own clever words had already shaken the foundations of
Gilda's mistrust of him. Mayhap in desiring to parley
with the knave, she only wished to set her mind at rest
finally on these matters, and also with regard to her own
brother's guilt. Stoutenburg with an inward grim smile
of coming triumph passed his hand over his doublet where
-in an inner pocket-reposed the parchment roll which
was the last proof of Beresteyn's connivance.
Gilda did not know the cypher-signature, and the
knave would have some difficulty in proving his assertion,
if indeed, he dared to name Nicolaes at all: whilst if he
chose to play the chivalrous part before Gilda, then the
anonymous document would indeed prove of incalcula-
ble value. In any case the complete humiliation of the
knave who had succeeded in gaining Gilda's interest, if
nothing more, was Stoutenburg's chief aim when he
suggested the interview, and the document with the
enigmatical signature could easily become a powerful
weapon wherewith to make that humiliation more
complete.
And thus musing, speculating, scheming, the Lord of
Stoutenburg sent Jan over to the molens with orders

308

PROTESTATIONS 309
to bring the prisoner under a strong guard to the jonge-
juffrouw's presence, whilst Gilda, silent and absorbed, sat
on in the tiny room of the miller's hut.
In spite of her loyalty, her love for her brother, in
spite of Stoutenburg's smooth assertions, a burning
anxiety gnawed at her heart--she felt wretchedly,
miserably lonely, with a sense of treachery encompassing
her all round.
But there was a strange glow upon her face, which of a
truth anxiety could not have brought about; rather
must it have been inward anger, which assailed her
whenever thoughts of the rogue whom she so hated
intruded themselves upon her brain.
No doubt, too, the heat of the fire helped to enhance
that delicate glow which lent so much additional beauty
to her face and such additional brilliance to her eyes.

CHAPTER XXXV

THE WITNESS FOR THE DEFENCE

THE Lord of Stoutenburg was the first to enter : behind
him came Jan, and finally a group of soldiers above whose
heads towered another broad white brow, surmounted by
a wealth of unruly brown hair which now clung matted
against the moist forehead.
At a word of command from Stoutenburg, Jan and
the other soldiers departed, leaving him and the prisoner
only before Gilda Beresteyn.
The man had told her on that first night at Leyden that
his name was Diogenes--a name highly honoured in the
history of philosophy. Well !-philosophy apparently
was standing him in good stead, for truly it must be
responsible for the happy way in which he seemed to be
bearing his present unhappy condition.
They had tied his arms behind his back and put a
pinion through them, his clothes were torn, his massive
chest was bare, his shirt bore ugly, dark stains upon it,
but his face was just the same, that merry laughing face
with the twinkling eyes, and the gentle irony that lurked
round the lines of the sensitive mouth : at any rate when
Gilda-overcome with pity-looked up with sweet
compassion on him, she saw that same curious, immutable
smile that seemed even now to mock and to challenge.
"This is the man, mejuffrouw," began Stoutenburg
after awhile, " who on New Year's Day at Haarlem dared
to lay hands upon your person. Do you recognize him ? "
" I do recognize him," replied Gilda coldly.
"I imagine," continued Stoutenburg, "that he hath
310

THE WITNESS FOR THE D-EFENCE

tried to palliate his own villainies by telling you that he
was merely a paid agent in that abominable outrage."
" I do not think," she retorted still quite coldly, " that
this . . this ... person told me that he was being
paid for that ugly deed ; though when I did accuse him
of it he did not deny it."
"Do you hear, fellow ?" asked Stoutenburg, turning
sharply to Diogenes, " it is time that all this lying should
cease. By your calumnies and evil insinuations you
have added to the load of crimes which already have
earned for you exemplary punishment; by those same
lies you have caused the jongejuffrouw an infinity of
pain, over and above the horror which she has endured
through your cowardly attack upon her. Therefore I
have thought it best to send for you now so that in her
exalted presence at least you may desist from further
lying and that you may be shamed into acknowledging
the truth. Do you hear, fellow ? " he reiterated more
harshly as Diogenes stood there, seemingly not even hear-
ing what the Lord of Stoutenburg said, for his eyes, in
which a quaint light of humour danced, were fixed upon
Gilda's hands that lay clasped upon her lap.
The look in the man's face, the soft pallor on the girl's
cheek, exasperated Stoutenburg's jealous temper beyond
his power of control.
"Do you hear ?" he shouted once more, and with a
sudden grip of the hand he pulled the prisoner roughly
round by the shoulder. That shoulder had been torn
open with a blow dealt by a massive steel blade which had
lacerated it to the bone; even a philosopher's endurance
was not proof against this sudden rending of an already
painful wound. Diogenes' pale face became the colour
of lead : the tiny room began dancing an irresponsive
saraband before his eyes, he felt himself swaying, for the
ground was giving way under him, when a cry, gentle
and compassionate, reached his fading senses, and a
perfume of exquisite sweetness came to his nostrils,
even as his pinioned arms felt just enough support to
enable him to steady himself.
"Gilda," broke in Stoutenburg's harsh voice upon this

3zz

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

intangible dream, " I entreat you not to demean yourself
by ministering to that rogue."
" My poor ministry was for a wounded man, my lord,"
she retorted curtly.
Then she turned once more to the prisoner.
" You are hurt, sir," she asked as she let her tender
blue eyes rest with kind pity upon him.
"Hurt, mejuffrouw ? " he replied with a laugh, which
despite himself had but little merriment in it. " Ask his
Magnificence there, he will tell you that such knaves
as I have bones and sinews as tough as their skins. Of
a truth I am not hurt, mejuffrouw ... only overcome
with the humour of this situation. The Lord of Stouten-
burg indignant and reproachful at thought that another
man is proficient in the art of lying."
"By heaven," cried Stoutenburg who was white with
fury. " Insolent varlet, take . . ."
He had seized the first object that lay close to his
hand, the heavy iron tool used for raking the fire out of
the huge earthenware stove; this he raised above his
head; the lust to kill glowed out of his eyes, which had
become bloodshot, whilst a thin red foam gathered at
the corners of his mouth. The next moment the life of a
philosopher and weaver of dreams would have been very
abruptly ended, had not a woman's feeble hand held up the
crashing blow.
"Hatred, my lord, an you will," said Gilda with per-
fect sangfroid as she stood between the man who had
so deeply wronged her and the upraised arm of his
deadly enemy, "hatred and fair fight, but not outrage,
I pray you."
Stoutenburg, smothering a curse, threw the weapon
away from him : it fell with a terrific crash upon the
wooden floor. Gilda, white and trembling now after the
agonizing excitement of the past awful moment, had sunk
half-swooning back against, a chair. Stoutenburg fell
on one knee and humbly raised her gown to his lips.
"Your pardon, Madonna," he whispered, "the sight
of your exquisite hands in contact with that infamous
blackguard made me mad. I was almost ready to cheat

312

THE WITNESS FOR THE DEFENCE 313
the gallows of their prey. I gratefully thank you in that
you saved me from the indignity of staining my hand
with a vile creature's blood."
Quietly and dispassionately Gilda drew her skirts
away from him.
"An you have recovered your temper, my lord,"
she said coldly, " I pray you ask the prisoner those ques-
tions which you desired to put to him. I am satisfied
that he is your enemy, and if he were not bound, pinioned
and wounded he would probably not have need of a
woman's hand to protect him."
Stoutenburg rose to his feet. He was angered with
himself for allowing his hatred and his rage to get the
better of his prudence, and tried to atone for his exhibition
of incontinent rage by a great show of dignity and of
reserve.
" I must ask you again, fellow-and for the last time,"
he said slowly turning once more to Diogenes, "if you
have realized how infamous have been your insinuations
against mine honour, and that of others whom the jonge-
juffrouw holds in high regard ? Your calumnies have
caused her infinite sorrow more bitter for her to bear
than the dastardly crime which you did commit against her
person. Have you realized this, and are you prepared
to make amends for your crime and to mitigate somewhat
the grave punishment which you have deserved by speak-
ing the plain truth before the jongejuffrouw now ? "
"And what plain truth doth the jongejuffrouw desire
to hear ? " asked Digenes with equal calm.
Stoutenburg would have replied, but Gilda broke in
quietly:
" Your crime against me, sir, I would readily forgive,
had I but the assurance that no one in whom I trusted,
no one whom I loved had a hand in instigating it."
The ghost of his merry smile-never very distant-
spread over the philosopher's pale face.
" Will you deign to allow me, mejuffrouw," he said,
" at any rate to tell you one certain, unvarnished truth,
which mayhap you will not even care to believe, and that
is that I would give my life-the few chances, that is,

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

that I still have of it--to obliterate from your mind the
memory of the past few days."
"That you cannot do, sir," she rejoined, "but you
would greatly ease the load of sorrow which you have
helped to lay upon me, if you gave me the assurance which
I ask."
The prisoner did not reply immediately, and for one
brief moment there was absolute silence in this tiny room,
a silence so tense and so vivid that an eternity of joy and
sorrow, of hope and of fear, seemed to pass over the life
of these three human creatures here. All three had eyes
and ears only for one another: the world with its grave
events, its intrigues and its wars, fell quite away from them:
they were the only people existing--each for the other-
for this one brief instant that passed by.
The fire crackled in the huge hearth, and slowly the
burning wood ashes fell with a soft swishing sound one
by one. But outside all was still: not a sound of the
busy life around the molens, of conspiracies and call to
arms, penetrated the dense veil of fog which lay upon the
low-lying land.
At last the prisoner spoke.
"'Tis easily done, mejuffrouw," he said, and all at
once his whole face lit up with that light-hearted gaiety,
that keen sense of humour which would no doubt follow
him to the grave, " that assurance I can easily give you. I
was the sole criminal in the hideous outrage which brought
so much sorrow upon you. Had I the least hope that
God would hear the prayer of so despicable a villain as
I am I would beg of Him to grant you oblivion of my deed.
As for me," he added and now real laughter was dancing
in his eyes: they mocked and challenged and called
back the joy of life, "as for me, I am impenitent. I
would not forget one minute of the last four days."
" To-morrow then you can take the remembrance with
you to the gallows," said Stoutenburg sullenly.
Though a sense of intense relief pervaded him now,
since by his assertions Diogenes had completely vindicated
him as well as Nicolaes in Gilda's sight, his dark face
showed no signs of brightening. That fierce jealousy

314

THE WITNESS FOR THE DEFENCE

of this nameless adventurer which had assailed him a while
ago was gnawing at his heart more insistently than before ;
he could not combat it, even though reason itself argued
that jealousy of so mean a knave was unworthy, and that
Gilda's compassion was only the same that she would
have extended to any dog that had been hurt.
Even now-reason still argued-was it not natural
that she should plead for the villain just as any tender-
natured woman would plead even for a thief. Women
hate the thought of violent death, only an amazon would
desire to mete out death to any enemy : Gilda was warm-
hearted, impulsive, the ugly word " gallows " grated no
doubt unpleasantly on her ear. But even so, and despite
the dictates of reason, Stoutenburg's jealousy and hatred
were up in arms the moment she turned pleading eyes
upon him.
" My lord," she said gently, " I pray you to remember
that by this open confession this . . . this gentleman
has caused me infinite happiness. I cannot tell you what
misery my own suspicions have caused me these past
two days. They were harder to bear than any humiliation
or sorrow which I had to endure."
"This varlet's lies confirmed you in your suspicions,
Gilda," retorted Stoutenburg roughly, " and his confes-
sion--practically at the foot of the gallows-is but a
tardy one."
"Do not speak so cruelly, my lord," she pleaded,
" you say that . . . that you have some regard for me
... let not therefore my prayer fall unheeded on your
ear . . .
" Your prayer, Gilda ? "
"My prayer that you deal nobly with an enemy,
whose wrongs to me I am ready to forgive . . ."
" By St. Bavon, mejuffrouw," here interposed the
prisoner firmly, " an mine ears do not deceive me, you are
even now pleading for my life with the Lord of Stouten-
burg."
" Indeed, sir, I do plead for it with my whole heart,"
she said earnestly.
" Ye gods I " he exclaimed, " and ye do not interfere 1"

315

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

" My lord I " urged Gilda gently, " for my sake . . ."
Her words, her look, the tears that despite her will had
struggled to her eyes, scattered to the winds Stoutenburg's
reasoning powers. He felt now that nothing while this
man lived would ever still that newly-risen passion of
jealousy. He longed for and desired this man's death
more even than that of the Prince of Orange. His
honour had been luckily white-washed before Gilda
by this very man whom he hated. He had a feeling that
within the last half-hour he had made enormous strides
in her regard. Already he persuaded himself that she
was looking on him more kindly, as if remorse at her
unjust suspicions of him had touched her soul on his
behalf.
Everything now would depend on how best he could
seem noble and generous in her sight ; but he was more
determined than ever that his enemy should stand dis-
graced before her first and die on the gallows on the
morrow.
Then it was that putting up his hand to the region of his
heart, which indeed was beating furiously, it encountered
the roll of parchment which lay in the inner pocket of his
doublet. Fate, chance, his own foresight, were indeed
making the way easy for him, and quicker than lightning
his tortuous brain had already formed a plan upon which
he promptly acted now.
"Gilda," he said quietly, "though God knows how
ready I am to do you service in all things, this is a case
where weakness on my part would be almost criminal,
for indeed it would be to a hardened and abandoned
criminal that I should be extending that mercy for which
you plead."
" Indeed, my lord," she retorted coldly, " though only
a woman, I too can judge if a man is an abandoned
criminal or merely a misguided human creature who doth
deserve mercy since his confession was quite open and
frank."
"Commonsense did prompt him no doubt to this half-
confession," said Stoutenburg dryly, " or a wise instinct
to win leniency by his conduct, seeing that he had no

316

THE WITNESS FOR THE DEFENCE

proofs wherewith to substantiate his former lies. Am I
not right, fellow ?" he added, once more turning to the
prisoner, " though you were forced to own that you alone
are responsible for the outrage against the jongejuffrouw,
you have not told her yet that you are also a forger and a
thief."
Diogenes looked on him for a moment or two in silence,
just long enough to force Stoutenburg's shifty eyes to
drop with a sudden and involuntary sense of shame, then
he rejoined with his usual good-humoured flippancy :
" It was a detail which had quite escaped my memory.
No doubt your Magnificence is fully prepared to rectify
the omission."
" Indeed I wish that I could have spared you this
additional disgrace," retorted Stoutenburg, whose sense
of shame had indeed been only momentary, " seeing that
anyhow you must hang to-morrow. But," he added once
more to the jongejuffrouw, " I could not bear you to think,
Gilda, that I could refuse you anything which it is in my
power to grant you. Before you plead for this scoundrel
again, you ought to know that he has tried by every
means in his power-by lying and by forgery-to fasten
the origin of all this infamy upon your brother."
" Upon Nicolaes," she cried, " I'll not believe it. A
moment ago he did vindicate him freely."
" Only because I had at last taken away from him the
proofs which he had forged."
"The proofs ? what do you mean, my lord ? "
"When my men captured this fellow last night, they
found upon him a paper-a bond which is an impudent
forgery-purported to have been written by Nicolaes
and which promised payment to this knave for laying
hands upon you in Haarlem."
"A bond ? " she murmured, " signed by Nicolaes ? "
"I say it again, 'tis an impudent forgery," declared
Stoutenburg hotly, "we-all of us who have seen it and
who know Nicolaes' signature could see at a glance that
this one was counterfeit. Yet the fellow used it, he ob-
tained money on the strength of it, for beside the jewellery
which he had filched from you, we found several hundred

317

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

guilders upon his person. Liar, forger, thief ! " he cried,
" in Holland such men are broken on the wheel. Hanging
is thought merciful for such damnable scum as they ! "
And from out the pocket of his doublet he drew the paper
which had been writ by the public scrivener and was
signed with Nicolaes' cypher signature : he handed it to
Gilda, even whilst the prisoner, throwing back his head,
sent one of his heartiest laughs echoing through the
raftered room.
" Well played, my lord ! " he said gaily, " nay! but
by the devils whom you serve so well, you do indeed de-
serve to win."
In the meanwhile Gilda, wide-eyed and horrified, not
knowing what to think, nor yet what to believe, scarcely
dared to touch the infamous document whose very pre-
sence in her lap seemed a pollution. She noticed that
some portion of the paper had been torn off, but the word-
ing of the main portion of the writing was quite clear as
was the signature "Schwarzer Kato" with the triangle
above it. On this she looked now with a curious mixture
of loathing and of fear. Schwarzer Kato was the name
of the tulip which her father had raised and named:
the triangle was a mark which the house of Beresteyn
oft used in business.
"O God have mercy upon me ! " she murmured in-
wardly, " what does all this treachery mean ? "
She looked up from one man to the other. The Lord of
toutenburg, dark and sullen, was watching her with
restless eyes; the prisoner was smiling, gently, almost
self-deprecatingly she thought, and as he met her fright-
ened glance it seemed as if in his merry eyes there crept
a look of sadness-even of pity.
" What does all this treachery mean ? " she murmured
again with pathetic helplessness, and this time just above
her breath.
" It means," said Stoutenburg roughly, " that at last
you must be convinced that this man on whom you have
wasted your kindly pity is utterly unworthy of it. That
bond was never written by your brother, it was never
signed by him. But we found it on this villain's person ;

318

THE WITNESS FOR THE DEFENCE

he has been trading on it, obtaining money on the strength
of this forgery. He has confessed to you that he had no
accomplice, no paymaster in his infamies, then ask him
whence came this bond in his possession, whence the
money which we found upon him. Ask him to deny thr
fact that less than twenty-four hours after he had laid
hands on you, he was back again in Haarlem, bargaining
with your poor, stricken father to bring you back to him."
He ceased speaking, almost choked now by his own
eloquence, and the rapidity with which the lying words
escaped his lips. And Gilda slowly turned her head to-
ward the prisoner, and met that subtly-ironical, good-
humoured glance again.
"Is this all true, sir ? " she asked.
" What, mejuffrouw ? " he retorted.
" That this bond promising you payment for the cruel
outrage upon me is a forgery ? "
" His Magnificence says so, mejuffrouw," he replied
quietly, " surely you know best if you can believe him."
" But this is not my brother's signature ? " she asked:
and she herself was not aware what an infinity of pleading
there was in her voice.
"No!" he replied emphatically, "it is not your
brother's signature."
" Then it is a forgery ? "
" We will leave it at that, mejuffrouw," he said, " that
it is a forgery."
A sigh, hoarse and passionate in its expression of in-
finite relief, escaped the Lord of Stoutenburg's lips.
Though he knew that the man in any case could have no
proof if he accused Nicolaes, yet there was great satisfac-
tion in this unqualified confession. Slowly the prisoner
turned his head and looked upon his triumphant enemy,
and it was the man with the pinioned arms, with the
tattered clothes and the stained shirt who seemed to
tower in pride, in swagger and in defiance while the other
looked just what he was--a craven and miserable cur.
Once more there was silence in the low-raftered room.
From Gilda's eyes the tears fell slowly one by one. She
could not have told you herself why she was crying at this

319

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

moment. Her brother's image stood out clearly before
her wholly vindicated of treachery, and a scoundrel had
been brought to his knees, self-confessed as a liar, a forger
and a thief ; the Lord of Stoutenburg was proved to have
been faithful and true, and yet Gilda felt such a pain in her
heart that she thought it must break.
The Lord of Stoutenburg at last broke the silence which
had become oppressive.
" Are you satisfied, Gilda ? " he asked tenderly.
" I feel happier," she replied softly, " than I have felt
these four days past, at thought that my own brother
at least-nor you, my lord had a hand in all this
treachery."
She would not look again on the prisoner, even though
she felt more than she saw, that a distinctly humorous
twinkle had once more crept into his eyes. It seemed,
however, as if she wished to say something else, something
kind and compassionate, but Stoutenburg broke in
impatiently:
"May I dismiss the fellow now ? " he asked. "Jan
is waiting for orders outside."
" Then I pray you call to Jan," she rejoined stiffly.
" The rogue is securely pinioned," he added even as he
turned toward the door. " I pray you have no fear of
him."
" I have no fear," she said simply.
Stoutenburg strode out of the room and anon his harsh
voice was heard calling to Jan.
For a moment then Gilda was alone--for the third
time now-with the man whom she had hated more than
she had ever hated a human creature before. She re-
membered how last night and again at Leyden she had
been conscious of an overpowering desire to wound him
with hard and bitter words. But now she no longer
felt that desire, since Fate had hurt him more cruelly
than she had wished to do. He was standing there now
before her, in all the glory of his magnificent physique,
yet infinitely shamed and disgraced, self-confessed of
every mean and horrible crime that has ever degraded
manhood.

32o

THE WITNESS FOR THE DEFENCE 321
Yet in spite of this shame he still looked splendid and
untamed: though his arms were bound to a pinion
behind his back, his broad chest was not sunken, and he
held himself very erect with that leonine head of his
thrown well back and a smile of defiance, almost of
triumph, sat upon every line of his face.
Anon she met his eyes; their glance compelled and
held her own. There was nothing but kindly humour
within their depths. Humour, ye gods ! whence came
the humour of the situation ! Here was a man condemned
to death by an implacable enemy who was not like to
show any mercy, and Gilda herself-remembering all
his crimes--could no longer bring herself to ask for mercy
for him, and yet the man seemed only to mock, to smile
at fate, to take his present desperate position as lightly
and as airily as another would take a pleasing turn of
fortune's wheel.
Conscious at last that his look of unconquerable good-
humour was working upon her nerves, Gilda forced her-
self to break the spell of numbness which had so un-
accountably fallen upon her.
"I should like to say to you, sir," she murmured,
"how deeply I regret the many harsh words I spoke to
you at Leyden and . . . and also last night . . . believe
me there was no feeling in me of cruelty toward you
when I spoke them."
"Indeed, mejuffrouw," he rejoined placidly, whilst
the gentle mockery in his glance became more accen-
tuated, "indeed I am sure that your harshness towards
me was only dictated by your kindliness. Believe me,"
he added lightly, " your words that evening at Leyden,
and again last night were most excellent discipline for
my temper: for this do I thank you ! they have helped
me to bear subsequent events with greater equanimity."
She bit her lip, feeling vexed at his flippancy. A man
on the point of death should take the last hours of his
life more seriously.
" It grieved me to see," she resumed somewhat more
stiffly, " that one who could on occasions be so brave,
should on others stoop to such infamous tricks."
x

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

"Man is ever a creature of opportunity, mejuffrouw,"
he said imperturbably.
" But I remembered you-you see-on New Year's
Eve in the Dam Straat when you held up a mob to protect
an unfortunate girl; oh ! it was bravely done ! "
" Yet believe me, mejuffrouw," he said with a whim-
sical smile, "that though I own appearances somewhat
belie me, I have done better since."
" I wish I could believe you, sir. But since then . .
oh ! think of my horror when I recognized you the next
day-at Leyden-after your cowardly attack upon me."
" Indeed I have thought of it already, mejuffrouw.
Dondersteen! I must have appeared a coward before
you then ! "
He gave a careless shrug of the shoulders, and very
quaintly did that carelessness sit on him now that he was
pinioned, wounded and in a relentless enemy's hands.
" Perhaps I am a coward," he added with a strange
little sigh, "you think so; the Lord of Stoutenburg
declares that I am a miserable cur. Does man ever know
himself ? I for one have never been worth the study."
"Nay, sir, there you do wrong yourself," she said
gently, "I cannot rightly gauge what temptations did
beset you when you lay hands upon a defenceless woman,
or when you forged my brother's name . . . for this you
did do, did you not ? " she asked insistently.
" Have I not confessed to it ? " he retorted quietly.
"Alas ! And for these crimes must I despise you,"
she added quaintly. "But since then my mind hath
been greatly troubled. Something tells me-and would
to God I saw it all more clearly-that much that you so
bravely endure just now, is somehow because of me.
Am I wrong ? "
He laughed, a dry, gentle, self-mocking laugh.
"That I have endured much because of you, me-
juffrouw," he said gaily, "I'll not deny; my worthy
patron St. Bavon being singularly slack in his protection
of me on two or three memorable occasions; but this
does not refer to my present state, which has come about
because half a dozen men fell upon me when I was

322

THE WITNESS FOR THE DEFENCE

unarmed and pounded at me with heavy steel skates,
which they swung by their straps. The skates were
good weapons, I must own, and have caused one or two
light wounds which are but scraps of evil fortune that a
nameless adventurer like myself must take along with
kindlier favours. So I pray you, mejuffrouw, have no
further thought of my unpleasant bodily condition.
I have been through worse plights than this before, and
if to-morrow I must hang . . ."
" No, no ! " she interrupted with a cry of horror, " that
cannot and must not be."
" Indeed it can and must, mejuffrouw. Ask the Lord
of Stoutenburg what his intentions are."
" Oh ! but I can plead with him," she declared. " He
hath told me things to-day which have made me very
happy. My heart is full of forgiveness for you, who have
wronged me so, and I would feel happy in pleading for
you.))
Something that she said appeared to tickle his fancy,
for at her words he threw his head right back and laughed
immoderately, loudly and long.
" Ye gods ! " he cried, while she-a little frightened
and puzzled--looked wide-eyed upon him, "let me hear
those words ringing in mine ears when the rope is round
my neck. The Lord of Stoutenburg hath the power to
make a woman happy ! the words he speaks are joy unto
her heart ! Oh ! ye gods, let me remember this and laugh
at it until I die ! "
His somewhat wild laugh had not ceased to echo in the
low-raftered room, nor had Gilda time to recover her
composure, before the door was thrown violently open
and the Lord of Stoutenburg re-entered, followed by
Jan and a group of men.
He threw a quick, suspicious glance on Gilda and on
Diogenes; the latter answered him with one of good-
humoured irony, but Gilda-pale and silent-turned her
head away.
Stoutenburg then pointed to Diogenes.
"Here is your prisoner," he said to Jan, " take him
back to the place from whence you brought him. Guard

323

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

him well, Jan, for to-morrow he must hang, and remember
that your life shall pay for his if he escapes."
Jan thereupon gave a brief word of command, the men
ranged themselves around the prisoner, whose massive
figure was thus completely hidden from Gilda's view;
only-towering above the heads of the soldiers-the
wide sweep of the brow caught a glimmer of light from
the flickering lamp overhead.
Soon the order was given. The small knot of men
turned and slowly filed out. The Lord of Stoutenburg
was the last to leave. He bowed nearly to the ground
when he finally left Gilda's presence.
And she remained alone, sitting by the fire, and staring
into the smouldering ashes. She had heard news to-night
that flooded her soul with happiness. Her brother whom
she loved was innocent of crime, and God Himself had
interfered; He had touched the heart of the Lord of
Stoutenburg and stopped the infamous plot against the
Stadtholder's life. Yet Gilda's heart was unaccountably
heavy, and as she sat on, staring into the fire, heavy
tears fell unheeded from her eyes.

324

CHAPTER XXXVI

BROTHER PHILOSOPHERS

AND now for the clang of arms, the movement, the
bustle, the excitement of combat! There are swords to
polish, pistols to clean, cullivers to see to ! Something
is in the air ! We have not been brought hither all the
way to this God-forsaken and fog-ridden spot in order to
stare on a tumbledown molens, or watch a solitary
prisoner ere he hang.
Jan knows of course, and Jan is eager and alert, febrile
in his movements, there is a glow in his hollow eyes. And
Jan always looks like that when fighting is in the air,
when he sniffs the scent of blood and hears the resonance
of metal against metal. Jan knows of course. He has
no thought of sleep, all night he wanders up and down
the improvised camp. No fires allowed and it is pitch
dark, but an occasional glimmer from a lanthorn lights
up compact groups of men lying prone upon the frozen
ground, wrapped in thick coats, or huddled up with knees
to chin trying to keep warm.
A few lanthorns are allowed, far into the interior of
that weird forest of beams under the molens where slender
protection against a bitter north-westerly wind can alone
be found.
Shoulder to shoulder, getting warmth one from the
other, we are all too excited to sleep. Something is in the
air, some fightiig to be done, and yet there are only thirty
or forty of us at most : but swords and cullivers have been
given out, and half the night through my lord and his
friends, served only by Jan, have been carrying heavy
325

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

loads from the molens out toward the Schie and the
wooden bridge that spans it.
Silently, always coming away with those heavy loads
from the molens, and walking with them away into the
gloom, always returning empty-handed, and served only
by Jan. Bah, we are no cullions! 'tis not mighty
difficult to guess. And by the saints! why all this
mystery? Some of us are paid to fight, what care we
how we do it ? in the open with muskets or crossbows, or
in the dark, with a sudden blow which no man knows
from whence it comes.
All night we sit and wait, and all night we are under
the eye of Jan. He serves his lord and helps him to carry
those heavy boxes from the molens to some unknown
place by the Schie, but he is always there when you least
expect him, watching to see that all is well, that there is
not too much noise, that no one has been tempted to light
a fire, that we do not quarrel too hotly among ourselves.
He keeps a watchful eye, too, upon the prisoner : poor
beggar ! with a broken shoulder and a torn hip, and
some other wounds too about his body. A good fighter
no doubt ! but there were seven against him, and that
was a good idea to swing heavy skates by their straps and
to bring him down with them. His head was too high,
else a blow from those sharp blades might have ended
his life more kindly than the Lord of Stoutenburg hath
planned to do.
A merry devil too ! full of quaint jokes and tales of
gay adventure! By Gad! a real soldier of fortune!
devil-may-care! eat and drink and make merry for
to-morrow we may die. Jan has ordered him to be kept
tied to a beam ! Godverdomme ! but 'tis hard on a
wounded man, but he seems tougher than the beams,
and laughter in his throat quickly smothers groans.
Tied to a beam, he is excellent company ! Ye gods, how
his hands itch to grip his sword. Piet the Red over
there ! let him feel the metal against his palms, 'twill
ease his temper for sure ! Jan is too severe : but 'tis my
lord's rage that was unbridled. Ugh ! to strike a prisoner
in the face. 'Twas a dirty trick and many saw it.

326

BROTHER PHILOSOPHERS 327
Heigh-ho, but what matter! To-morrow we fight,
to-morrow he hangs ! What of that ? To-morrow most
of us mayhap will be lying stark and stiff upon the frozen
ground, staring up at next night's moon, with eyes that
no longer see ! A rope round the neck, a hole in the side,
a cracked skull ! What matters which mode Dame Death
will choose for our ultimate end. But 'tis a pity about
the prisoner ! A true fighter if there was one, a stoic
and a philosopher. " The Cavalier " we pretty soon call
him.
"What ho! " he shouts, "call me the Laughing
Cavalier ! "
Poor devil ! he tries not to show his hurts. He suffers
much what with that damnable wind and those ropes that
cut into his tough sinews, but he smiles at every twinge of
pain: smiles and laughs and cracks the broadest jokes
that have e'er made these worm-eaten beams ring with
their echo.
The Laughing Cavalier in sooth !
There ! now we can ease him somewhat. Jan's back
is turned; we dare not touch the ropes, but a cloak put
between his back and the beam, and another just against
his head.
Is that not better, old compeer ?
Aye ! but is it not good to be a villain and a rogue and
herd with other villains and other rogues who are so
infinitely more kind and gentle than all those noble
lords ?
Diogenes--his head propped against the rude cushion
placed there by the hand of some rough Samaritan-has
fallen into a fitful doze.
Whispers around him wake him with a start. Ye
gods ! was there ever so black a night ? The whispers
become more eager, more insistent.
" Let us but speak with him. We'll do no harm ! "
St. Bavon tell us how those two scarecrows have got
here ! For they are here in the flesh, both of them.
Diogenes would have spotted his brother philosophers
through darkness darker than the blackest hell. Pytha-
goras rolling in fat and Socrates lean and hungry-looking,

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

peering like a huge gaunt bird through the gloom. Some
one is holding up a lanthorn and Pythagoras' tip-tilted
nose shines with a ruddy glow.
" But how did you get here, you old mushroom-face ? "
asks one of the men.
"We had business with him at Rotterdam, ' quoth
Socrates with one of his choicest oaths and nodding in
the direction of the prisoner. " All day we have wondered
what has become of him."
" Then in the afternoon," breaks in Pythagoras, to the
accompaniment of a rival set of expletives, "we saw
him trussed like a fowl and tied into a sledge drawn by
a single horse, which started in the wake of a larger one
wherein sat a lovely jongejuffrouw."
" Then what did you do ? " queries some one.
" Do ? " exclaimed the philosophers simultaneously
and in a tone of deep disgust.
" Followed on his trail as best we could," rejoins
Socrates simply, " borrowed some skates, ran down the
Schie in the wake of the two sledges and their escort."
" And after that ? "
" After that we traced him to this solitary God-forsaken
hole, but presently we saw that this molens was not so
deserted as it seemed, so we hung about until now . .
then we ventured nearer . . . and here we are."
Here they were of course, but how was it possible to
contravene the orders of Jan? What could these
scarecrows have to say to the Laughing Cavalier ?
" Just to ask him if there's anything we can do,"
murmurs Socrates persuasively. " He's like to hang to-
morrow, you said, well ! grant something then to a dying
man."
Grave heads shake in the gloom.
" Our orders are strict . . ."
" 'Tis a matter of life and death it seems . . ."
" Bah!" quoth Pythagoras more insinuatingly still,
" we are two to your thirty ! What have ye all to fear ? "
" Here! tie my hands behind my back," suggests
Socrates. "I only want to speak with him. How could
we help him to escape ? "

328

BROTHER PHILOSOPHERS

"We would not think of such a thing," murmurs
Pythagoras piously.
Anxious glances meet one another in consultation.
More than one kindly heart beats beneath these ragged
doublets. Bah ! the man is to hang to-morrow, why
not give pleasure to a dying man ?
If indeed it be pleasure to look on such hideous scare-
crows a few hours before death.
Jan is not here. He is with my lord, helping with
those heavy boxes.
" Five minutes, you old mushroom-face," suggests he
who has been left in charge.
And all the others nod approval.
But they will take no risks about the prisoner. Pleasure
and five minutes conversation with his friends, yes !
but no attempt at escape. So the men make a wide circle
sitting out of ear-shot, but shoulder to shoulder the thirty
of them who happen to be awake. In the centre of the
circle is the Laughing Cavalier tied to a beam, trussed
like a fowl since he is to hang on the morrow.
Close beside his feet is the lanthorn so that he may
have a last look at his friends, and some few paces away
his naked sword which Jan took from him when the men
brought him down.
He has listened to the whispered conversation-he
knows that his brother philosophers are here. May the
God of rogues and villains bless them for their loyalty.
" And now St. Bavon show me the best way to make
use of them ! "
There is still something to be done, which hath been
left undone, a word hath been given and that pledge
must be fulfilled, and the promised fortune still awaits him
who will bring the jongejuffrouw safely to her father !
" My God, if it were not for that broken shoulder and
that torn hip ! . . . there are many hours yet before the
morrow."
" Old compeer ! " came in a hoarse whisper close to his
ear, " how did you come to such a pass ? "
" They came and took the jongejuffrouw away from
Rotterdam," he replied also speaking in a whisper. " I

329

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

had just returned from Delft, where I had business to
transact and I recognized Jan beside the sledge into
which the jongejuffrouw was stepping even then. He
had ten or a dozen men with him. I felt that they meant
mischief--but I had to follow . . . I had to find out
whither they were taking her . . ."
"Verdommt!" growled Socrates under his breath.
" Why did you not take us along ? "
" I meant to come back for you, as soon as I knew .. .
but in the dark . . . and from behind, seven of these
fellows fell upon me . . . they used their skates like
javelins . . . mine were still on my feet . . . I had only
Bucephalus . . . A blow from one of the heaviest blades
cracked my shoulder, another caught me on the hip.
There were seven of them," he reiterated with a careless
laugh, " it was only a question of time, they were bound
to bring me down in the end."
" But who has done this ? " queried Pythagoras with
an oath.
"A lucky rogue on whom God hath chosen to smile.
But," he added more seriously and sinking his voice to the
lowest possible whisper, " never mind about the past.
Let us think of the future, old compeers."
" We are ready," they replied simultaneously.
"A knife ? " he murmured, "can you cut these con-
founded ropes ? "
" They took everything from us," growled Socrates,
" ere they let us approach you."
" Try with your hands to loosen the knots."
"What ho! you brigands, what are you doing
there ? "
In a moment the circle around broke up. A crowd of
angry faces were gathered closely round the philosophers,
and more than one pair of rough hands were laid upon
their shoulders.
" Play fair, you two ! " cried Piet the Red, who was in
command, " or we'll tie you both to the nearest beams
and await my lord's commands."
" Easy, easy, friend," quoth Diogenes with a pleasant
laugh, " my nose was itching and my compeer held on to

330

BROTHER PHILOSOPHERS

my arm while he tried to reach my nose in order to
scratch it."
"Then if it itch again," retorted the man with an
equally jovial laugh, " call for my services, friend. And
now, you two scarecrows! the five minutes are over.
Jan will be here in a moment."
But they formed up the circle once more, kind and
compassionate. Jan was not yet here, and the rogues
had had a warning ; they were not like to be at their tricks
again.
" Never mind about me," whispered Diogenes hurriedly
as Pythagoras and Socrates, baffled and furious, were
giving forth samples of their choicest vocabularies.
" You see that Chance alone can favour me an she choose,
if not . . . 'tis no matter. What you can do for me is
far more important than cheating the gallows of my
carcase."
" What is it ? " they asked simply.
"The jongejuffrouw," he said, "you know where she
is ? "
" In the hut--close by," replied Socrates, " we saw the
sledge draw up there . . ."
" But the house is well guarded," murmured Pytha-
goras.
" Nor would I ask you to run your heads in the same
noose wherein mine will swing to-morrow. But keep the
hut well in sight. At any hour-any moment now-there
may be a call of sauve qui peut. Every man for himself
and the greatest luck to the swiftest runner."
" But why ? "
"Never mind why. It is sure to happen., Any minute
you may hear the cry . . . confusion, terror . . . a
scramble and a rush for the open."
" And our opportunity," came in a hoarse whisper
from Socrates. " I think that I begin to understand."
" We lie low for the present and when sauve qui peut
is called we come straight back here and free you . . . in
the confusion they will have forgotten you."
" If the confusion occurs in time," quoth Diogenes with
his habitual carelessness, "you may still find me here

33-1

332 THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
trussed like a fowl to this verdommte beam. But I have
an idea that the Lord of Stoutenburg will presently be
consumed with impatience to see me hang . . . he has
just finished some important work by the bridge on the
Schie . . . he won't be able to sleep, and the devil will
be suggesting some mischief for his idle hands to do.
There will be many hours to kill before daylight, one of
them might be well employed in hanging me."
"Then we'll not leave you an instant," asserted
Pythagoras firmly.
"What can you do, you two old scarecrows, against
the Lord of Stoutenburg who has thirty men here paid to
do his bidding ? "
"We are not going to lie low and play the part of
cowards while you are being slaughtered."
" You will do just what I ask, faithful old compeers,"
rejoined Diogenes more earnestly than was his wont.
" You will lie very low and take the greatest possible care
not to run your heads into the same rope wherein mayhap
mine will dangle presently. Nor will you be playing the
part of cowards, for you have not yet learned the A B C of
that part, and you will remember that on your safety and
freedom of action lies my one chance, not so much of life
as of saving my last shred of honour."
" What do you mean ? "
"The jongejuffrouw-" he whispered, "I swore to
bring her back to her father and I must cheat a rascal of
his victory. In the confusion-at dawn to-morrow-
think above all of the jongejuffrouw . . . In the con-
fusion you can overpower the guard-rush the miller's
hut where she is . . . carry her off . . . the horses are
in the shed behind the hut . . . you may not have time
to think of me."
" But . ."
"Silence-they listen . .. "
" One of us with the jongejuffrouw-the other to help
you-"
" Silence . . I may be a dead man by then-the
jongejuffrouw, remember-make for Ryswyk with her
first of all-thence straight to Haarlem-to her father-

BROTHER PHILOSOPHERS

you can do it easily. A fortune awaits you if you bring
her safely to him. Fulfil my pledge, old compeers, if
I am not alive to do it myself. I don't ask you to swear-
I know you'll do it-and if I must to the gallows first I'll
do so with a cry of triumph."
" But you . . ."
"Silence!" he murmured again peremptorily, but
more hoarsely this time, for fatigue and loss of blood and
tense excitement are telling upon his iron physique at
last-he is well-nigh spent and scarce able to speak.
"Silence-I can hear Jan's footsteps. Here ! quick !
inside my boot . . . a wallet ! Have you got it ? " he
added with a brief return to his habitual gaiety as he felt
Socrates' long fingers groping against his shins, and
presently beheld his wallet in his compeer's hand, "You
will find money in there-enough for the journey. Now
quick into the night, you two-disappear for the nonce,
and anon when sauve qui peut rings in the air, to-night
or at dawn or whenever this may be, remember the
jongejuffrouw first of all and when you are ready give
the cry we all know so well-the cry of the fox when it
lures its prey. If I am not dangling on a gibbet by then,
I shall understand. But quick now!-Jan comes !-
Disappear I say ! . . ."
Quietly and swiftly Socrates slipped the wallet with
some of the money back into his friend's boot, the rest he
hid inside his own doublet.
Strange that between these men there was no need of
oaths. Pythagoras and Socrates had said nothing:
silent and furtive they disappeared into the darkness.
Diogenes' head sank down upon his breast with a last sigh
of satisfaction. He knew that his compeers would do
what he had asked. Jan's footsteps rang on the hard-
frozen ground-silently the living circle had parted and
the philosophers were swallowed up by the gloom.
Jan looks suspiciously at the groups of men who now
stand desultorily around.
"Who was standing beside the prisoner just now ? "
he asks curtly.
"When, captain ?" queries one of the men blandly.

333

334 THE LAUGHING CAVALIERL
"A moment ago. I was descending the steps. The
lanthorn was close to the prisoner; I saw two forms-
that looked unfamiliar to me--close to him."
"Oh ! " rejoined Piet the Red unblushingly, "it must
have been my back that you saw, captain. Willem and I
were looking to see that the ropes had not given way.
The prisoner is so restless . . ."
Jan-not altogether re-assured--goes up to the prisoner.
He raises the lanthorn and has a good and comprehensive
look at all the ropes. Then he examines the man's face.
"What ho 1 " he cries, "a bottle of spiced wine from
my wallet. The prisoner has fainted."

CHAPTER XXXVII

DAWN

WHAT a commotion when dawn breaks at last; it comes
grey, dull, leaden, scarce lighter than the night, the haze
more dense, the frost miore biting. But it does break at
last after that interminable night of excitement and sleep-
lessness and preparations for the morrow.
Jan has never closed an eye, he has scarcely rested
even, pacing up and down, in and out of those gargantuan
beams, with the molens and its secrets towering above his
head. Nor I imagine did those noble lords and mynheers
up there sleep much during this night; but they were
tired and lay like logs upon straw paillasses, living over
again the past few hours, the carrying of heavy iron
boxes one by one from the molens to the wooden bridge,
the unloading there, the unpacking in the darkness, and
the disposal of the death-dealing powder, black and evil
smelling, which will put an end with its one mighty crash
-to tyranny and the Stadtholder's life.
Tired they are but too excited to sleep: the last few
hours are like a vivid dream; the preparation of the
tinder, the arrangements, the position to be taken up by
Beresteyn and Heemskerk, the two chosen lieutenants
who will send the wooden bridge over the Schie flying
in splinters into the air.
Van Does too has his work cut out. General in command
of the forces--foreign mercenaries and louts from the
country-he has Jan for able captain. The mercenaries
and the louts know nothing yet of what will happen to-
morrow-when once the dawn has broken-but they
335

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

are well prepared; like beasts of the desert they can
scent blood in the air; look at them polishing up their
swords and cleaning their cullivers ! They know that
to-morrow they will fight, even though to-night they have
had no orders save to see that one prisoner tied with
ropes to a beam and fainting with exposure and loss of
blood does not contrive to escape.
But the Lord of Stoutenburg is more wakeful than all.
Like a caged beast of prey he paces up and down the low,
narrow weighing-room of the molens, his hands tightly
clenched behind his back, his head bare, his cloak cast
aside despite the bitter coldness of the night.
Restless and like a beast of prey, his nostrils quiver
with the lust of hate and revenge that seethes within his
soul. Two men doth he hate with a consuming passion
of hatred, the Stadtholder Prince of Orange, sovereign
ruler of half the Netherlands, and a penniless adventurer
whose very name is unknown.
Both these men are now in the power of the Lord of
Stoutenburg. The bridge is prepared, the powder laid,
to-morrow justice will be meted out to the tyrant ; God
alone could save him now, and God, of a surety, must be
on the side of a just revenge. The other man is helpless
and a prisoner; despite his swagger and his insolence,
justice shall be meted out to him too; God alone could
save him, and God, of a surety, could not be on the side
of an impudent rogue.
These thoughts, which were as satisfying to the Lord
of Stoutenburg as food placed at an unattainable distance
is to a starving beast, kept him awake and pacing up and
down the room after he had finished his work under the
bridge.
He could not sleep for thinking of the prisoner, of
the man's insolence, of the humiliation and contempt'
wherewith with every glance he had brought shame to
his cheeks. - The Lord of Stoutenburg could not sleep
also for thinking of Gilda, and the tender, pitying eyes
wherewith she regarded the prisoner, the gentle tone of
her voice when she spoke to him, even after proof had been
placed before her that the man was a forger and a thief.

336

The Lord of Stoutenburg could not sleep and all the
demons of jealousy, of hatred and of revenge were chasing
him up and down the room and whispering suggestions of
mischief to be Twrought, of a crime to be easily committed.
"While that man lives," whispered the demon of
hate in his ear, "' thou wilt not know a moment's rest.
To-morrow when thy hand should be steady when it
wields the dagger against the Stadtholder, it will tremble
and falter, for thoughts of that man will unsettle thy
nerves and cause the blood to tingle in thy veins."
" While that man lives," whispered the demon of
revenge, "thou wilt not know a moment's rest. Thou
wilt think of him and of his death, rather than of thy
vengeance against the Stadtholder."
" While that man lives," whispered the demon of
jealousy more insistently than did the other evil spirits,
" Gilda will not cease to think of him, she will plead for
him, she will try mayhap to save him and then.-"
And the Lord of Stoutenburg groaned aloud in the
silence of the night, and paused in his restless walk. He
drew a chair close to the table, and sat down; then
resting his elbows upon the table, he buried his head in
his hands, and remained thus motionless but breathing
heavily like one whose soul is fighting a losing battle.
The minutes sped on. He had no means of gauging
the time. It was just night, black impenetrable night.
From down below came the murmur of all the bustle that
was going on, the clang of arms, the measured footsteps
which told of other alert human creatures who were
waiting in excitement and tense expectancy for that
dawn which still was far distant.
The minutes sped on, on the leaden feet of time. How
long the Lord of Stoutenburg had sat thus, silent and
absorbed, he could not afterwards have said. Perhaps
after all he had fallen asleep, overcome with fatigue and
with the constant sleeplessness of the past few days.
But anon he was wide awake, slightly shivering with the
cold. The tallow candle was spluttering, almost dying
out. With a steady hand the Lord of Stoutenburg
snuffed the smouldering wick, the candle flickered up

DAWN

337

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

again. Then he rose and quietly walked across the room.
He pulled open the door and loudly called for Jan.
A few minutes later Jan was at the door, silent, sullen,
obedient as usual.
" My lord called ? " he asked.
" Yes," replied Stoutenburg, " what hour is it ? "
" Somewhere near six I should say, my lord. I heard
the tower-clock at Ryswyk strike five some time ago."
" How long is it before the dawn ? "
" Two hours, my lord."
" Time to put up a gibbet, Jan, and to hang a man ? "
" Plenty of time for that, my lord," replied Jan quietly.
" Then see to it, Jan, as speedily as you can. I feel
that that man down below is our evil genius. While
he lives Chance will be against us, of that I am as con-
vinced as I am of the justice of our cause. If that man
lives, Jan, the Stadtholder will escape us; I feel it in
my bones: something must have told me this in the
night-it is a premonition that comes from above."
" Then the man must not live, my lord," said Jan
coldly.
" You recognize that too, Jan, do you not ? " rejoined
Stoutenburg eagerly. " I am compelled in this-I won't
say against my will, but compelled by a higher, a super-
natural power. You, too, believe in the supernatural, do
you not, my faithful Jan ? "
" I believe, my lord, first and foremost in the justice
of our cause. I hate the Stadtholder and would see him
dead. Nothing in the world must place that great aim
of ours in jeopardy."
Stoutenburg drew a deep breath of satisfaction.
"Then see to the gibbet, my good Jan," he said in a
firm almost lusty voice, "have it erected on the further
side of the molens so that the jongejuffrouw's eyes are
not scandalized by the sight. When everything is ready
come and let me know, and guard him well until then,
Jan, guard him with your very life; I want to see him
hang, remember that! Come and tell me when the
gallows are ready and I'll go to see him hang . .. I
want to see him hang .. ."

338

And Jan without another word salutes the Lord of
Stoutcnburg and then goes out.
And thus it is that a quarter of an hour later the silence
of the night is broken by loud and vigorous hammering.
Jan sees to it all and a gibbet is not difficult to erect.
The men grumble of course; they are soldiers and not
executioners, and their hearts for the most have gone out
to that merry compeer-the Laughing Cavalier-with
his quaint jokes and his cheerful laugh. He has been
sleeping soundly too for several hours, but now he is awake,
Jan has told him that his last hour has come: time to put
up a gibbet with a few stiff planks taken from the store-
room of the molens and a length of rope.
He looks round him quite carelessly. Bah! death
has no terrors for such a splendid soldier as he is. How
many times hath he faced death ere this ?-why he was
at Prague and at Magdeburg where few escaped with their
lives. He bears many a fine scar on that broad chest
of his and none upon his back. A splendid fighter, if
ever there was one !
But hanging ? Bah !
The men murmur audibly as plank upon plank is nailed.
Jan directs operations whilst Piet the Red keeps guard
over the prisoner. Two or three of the country louts
know something of carpentering. They do the work
under Jan's watchful eye. They grumble but they
work, for no one has been paid yet, and if you rebel
you are like to be shot, and in any case you lose your
pay.
And Diogenes leaning up against the beam watches
with lazy quaintly-smiling eyes the preparations that are
going on not a hundred paces away from him. After
a while the darkness all around is beginning to yield to the
slow insistence of dawn. It rises slowly behind the veils
of mist which still envelop the distant East. Gradually
an impalpable greyness creeps around the molens, objects
begin to detach themselves one by one out of the gloom,
the moving figures of the mercenaries, the piles of arms
heaped up here and there out of the damp, the massive
beams slimy and green which support the molens, and a

DAVVWN

339

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

little further on the tall erection with a projecting arm
round which great activity reigns.
Diogenes watches it all with those same lazy eyes, and
that same good-humoured smile lingering round his lips.
That tall erection over there which still looks ghostlike
through the mist is for him. The game of life is done
and he has lost. Death is there at the end of the pro-
jecting arm on which even now Jan is fixing a rope.
" Death in itself matters but little," mused the philo-
sopher with his gently ironical smile. "I would have
chosen another mode than hanging . . . but after all
'tis swift and sure; and of course now she will never
know."
Know what, O philosopher ? What is it that she-
Gilda, with the fair curls and the blue eyes, the proud
firm mouth and rounded chin-what is it that she will
never know ?
She will never know that a nameless, penniless soldier
of fortune has loved her with every beat of his heart,
every thought of his brain, with every sinew and every
aspiration. She will never know that just in order to
remain near her, when she was dragged away out of
Rotterdam he affronted deliberately the trap into which
he fell. She will never know that for her dear sake
he has borne humiliation against which every nerve of his
splendid nature did inwardly rebel, owning to guilt
and shame lest her blue eyes shed tears for a brother's
sin. She will never know that the warning to the Stadt-
holder came from him, and that he was neither a forger
nor a thief, only just a soldier of fortune with a contempt
for death, and an unspoken adoration for the one woman
who seemed to him as distant from him as the stars.
But there were no vain regrets in him now; no regret of
life, for this he always held in his own hand ready to toss
it away for a fancy or an ideal-no regret of the might-have-
been because he was a philosopher, and the very moment
that love for the unattainable was born in his heart he
had already realized that love to him could only mean a
memory.
Therefore when he watched the preparations out there

340

DAWN 341
in the mist, and heard the heavy blows upon the wooden
planks and the murmurs of his sympathizers at their
work, he only smiled gently, self-deprecatingly, but always
good-humouredly.
If the Lord of Stoutenburg only knew how little he
really cared!

CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE HOUR

A CURIOUSLY timid voice roused the philosopher from his
dreams.
"Is there aught I can do for you, sir? Alas! my
friend the Lord of Stoutenburg is deeply angered
against you. I could do nothing with him on your
behalf."
Diogenes turned his head in the direction whence had
come the voice. He saw Nicolaes Beresteyn standing
there in the cold grey mist, with his fur cloak wrapped
closely up to his chin, and his face showing above the
cloak, white and drawn.
The situation was not likely to escape Diogenes' irrepres-
sible sense of humour.
" Mynheer Beresteyn," he exclaimed; "Dondersteen!
what brings your Mightiness here at this hour ? A man
on the point of death, sir, has no call for so pitiable a
sight as is your face just now."
" I heard from my Lord Stoutenburg what happened in
the hut last night," said Beresteyn in a faltering voice,
and determined not to heed the other's bantering tone.
" You exonerated me before my sister . . . sir, this was
a noble act . . . I would wish to thank you ... "
" And do so with quaking voice and shaking knees,"
quoth Diogenes with unalterable good humour, through
which there pierced however an obvious undercurrent of
contempt. " Ye gods ! " he added with a quaint sigh,
" these men have not even the courage of their
infamy ! "
342

The words, the tone, the shrug of the shoulders which
accompanied these, stung Nicolaes Beresteyn's dormant
dignity to the quick.
"I do not wonder," he said more firmly, " that you
feel bitter contempt for me now. Your generosity for
which I did not crave hath placed me momentarily at a
disadvantage before you. Yet believe me I would not be
outdone by you in generosity; were it not for my allegiance
to the Lord of Stoutenburg I would go straight to my
sister now and confess my guilt to her . . . You believe
me, I trust," he added, seeing that Diogenes' merry eyes
were fixed mockingly upon him, " did Fate allow it I would
gladly change places with you even now."
" I am about to hang, sir," quoth Diogenes lightly.
" Alas! "
" And you are forced, you say, to play a craven's part;
believe me, sir, I would not change places with you for a
kingdom."
" I do believe you, sir," rejoined Beresteyn earnestly,
" yet I would have you think of me as something less of a
coward than I seem. Were I to make full confession to
my sister now, I should break her heart--but it would not
save your neck from the gallows."
" And a rogue's neck, sir, is of such infinitely less value
than a good woman's heart. So I pray you say no more
about it. Death and I are old acquaintances, oft hath
he nodded to me en passant, we are about to become
closer friends, that is all."
" Some day my sister shall know, sir, all that you have
done for her and for me."
The ghost of a shadow passed over the Laughing
Cavalier's face.
" That, sir, I think had best remain 'twixt you and
me for all times. But this I would have you know, that
when I accepted the ignoble bargain which you proposed
to me in my friend Hals' studio, I did so because I thought
that the jongejuffrouw would be safer in my charge then
than in yours ! "
Beresteyn was about to retort more hotly when Jan.
closely followed by half a dozen men, came with swift,

THE HOUR

343

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

firm footsteps up to the prisoner. He saluted Beresteyn
deferentially as was his wont.
" Your pardon, mynheer," he said, " my lord hath
ordered that the prisoner be forthwith led to execu-
tion."
Nicolaes' pale face became the colour of lead.
" One moment, Jan," he said, " one moment. I must
speak with my lord . . . I . ... "
" My lord is with the jongejuffrouw," said Jan curtly,
" shall I send to tell him that you desire to speak with
him ? "
" No-no--that is I ... I ... " stammered Nicolaes
who, indeed, was fighting a cruel battle with his own
weakness, his own cowardice now. It was that weak-
ness which had brought him to the abject pass in which
he now stood, face to face with the man he had affected to
despise, and who was about to die, laden with the crimes
which he Nicolaes had been the first to commit.
Stoutenburg's influence over him had been paramount,
through it he had lost all sense of justice, of honour and
of loyalty; banded with murderers he had ceased to
recognize the very existence of honesty, and now he was in
such a plight morally, that though he knew himself to
be playing an ignoble r68e, he did not see the way to
throw up the part and to take up that of an honest man.
One word from him to Gilda, his frank confession of his
own guilt, and she would so know how to plead for the
condemned man that Stoutenburg would not dare to
proceed with this monstrous act.
But that word he had not the courage to speak.
With dull eyes and in sullen silence he watched Piet
the Red untying under Jan's orders the ropes which held
the prisoner to the beam, and then securing others to
keep his arms pinioned behind his back. The mist now
was of a faint silvery grey, and the objects around had
that mysterious hushed air which the dawn alone can
lend. The men, attracted by the sight of a fellow creature
in his last living moments, had gathered together in close
knots of threes and fours. They stood by, glowering and
sombre, and had not Jan turned a wilfully deaf ear to their

344

murmurings he would have heard many an ugly word
spoken under their breath.
These were of course troublous and fighting times,
when every man's hand was against some other, when
every able-bodied man was firstly a soldier and then only
a peaceable citizen. Nor was the present situation an
uncommon one: the men could not know what the
prisoner had done to deserve this summary punishment.
He might have been a spy-an informer-or merely a
prisoner of war. It was no soldier's place to interfere,
only to obey orders and to ask no questions.
But they gave to the splendid personality of the con-
demned man the tribute of respectful silence. Whilst
Jan secured the slender white hands of the prisoner, and
generally made those awful preparations which even so
simple a death as hanging doth demand, jests and oaths
were stilled one by one among these rough fighting men,
not one head but was uncovered, not a back that was not
straightened, not an attitude that was not one of deference
and attention. Instinct-that unerring instinct of the
soldier-had told them that here was no scamp getting
his just reward, but a brave man going with a careless
smile to his death.
" Has mynheer finished with the prisoner," asked Jan
when he saw that Piet had finished his task and that the
prisoner was ready to be led away. " Is there aught
your greatness would still desire to say to him ? "
" Only this," said Beresteyn firmly, " that were his
hands free I would ask leave to grasp them."
A look of kindly amusement fell from the prisoner's
eyes upon the pale face of the young man.
" I have never known you, sir, save by a quaint nick-
name," continued Beresteyn earnestly, " but surely you
have kith and kin somewhere. Have you no father or
mother living whom you will leave to mourn ? "
The prisoner made no immediate reply, the smile of
kindly amusement still lingered round his lips, but
presently with an instinctive gesture of pride, he threw
back his head and looked around him, as one who has
nothing to fear and but little to regret. He met the

THE HOUR

345

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

sympathetic glance cast on him by the man who had
done him-was still doing him-an infinite wrong, and
all round those of his mute and humble friends who
seemed to be listening eagerly now for the answer which
he would give to mynheer. Then with a quick sweep his
eyes suddenly rested on the wooden erection beyond the
molens that loomed out so tragically through the mist,
pointing with its one weird arm to some infinite distance
far away.
Something in the gentle pathos of this humble deference
that encompassed him, something mayhap in the solem-
nity of that ghostly arm suddenly seemed to melt the
thin crust of his habitual flippancy. He looked back
on Beresteyn and said softly:
" I have a friend, Frans Hals--the painter of pictures-
tell him when next you See him that I am glad his portrait
of me is finished, and that I asked God to bless him for
all his goodness has meant to me in the past."
"But your father, sir," urged Beresteyn, "your
kindred . . ."
"My father, sir," replied Diogenes curtly, " would
not care to hear that his son had died upon the gallows."
Beresteyn would have spoken again but Jan interposes
once more, humbly but firmly.
" My lord's orders," he now says briefly, " and time
presses, mynheer."
Beresteyn stands back, smothering a sigh. Jan on
ahead, then Piet the Red and the six soldiers with the
prisoner between them. A few steps only divide them
from the gruesome erection that looms more solidly now
out of the mist. Beresteyn, wrapping his head up in his
cloak to shut out sound and sight, walks rapidly away
in the opposite direction.

346

CHAPTER XXXIX

* SAUVE QUI PEUT "

THEN it is that, out of the thickness of the fog a figure
suddenly emerges running and panting: a man has
fallen up against the group of soldiers who have just
halted beside the gibbet.
" It is Lucas of Sparendam come back from Delft,"
they cry as soon as they recognize the stained face, wet
with the frost and the mist.
Already Jan-who with Piet's help was busy with the
rope-has heard the name. His wan, thin face has
become the colour of ashes.
" Lucas of Sparendam back from Delft," he murmurs,
" the Lord save us all! "
Lucas of Sparendam was sent yesterday to Delft by
the Lord of Stoutenburg to spy and to find out all that
was going on inside the Prinzenhof where slept the Stadt-
holder and his bodyguard of one hundred men-at-arms:
and now he has come back running and panting: his
clothes torn, his face haggard and spent. He has run
all the way from Delft-a matter of a league and a half !
Why should a man half kill himself by endeavouring to
cover a league and a half in one hour ?
" A drop of hot wine for Lucas," cries one of the soldiers.
"He is faint."
The other men-there are close on forty all told-
crowd round the gibbet now, those in charge of the
prisoner have much ado to keep the space clear. They
don't say anything just yet, but there is a strange, rest-
less loik in their eyes, and their lips tremble with all the
347

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

unspoken questions. Only two men remain calm and
silent, Jan has never ceased in his task of adjusting the
ropes, and the prisoner stands quite still, bound with
cords, and neither looking on Lucas nor yet on the gibbet
above him. His eyes are half closed and there is a
strained look on his merry face as if he were trying to
listen to something that was too far off to hear.
But one man in the meanwhile is ready with the bottle
of spiced wine, the best cordial there is for a fainting
man. The others make way for him so that he can
minister to Lucas. And Lucas drinks the wine eagerly,
then he opens his eyes.
" We are betrayed," he murmurs.
" Great God ! " exclaims Jan dully.
" Betrayed ! "
" What does it mean ? "
No one heeds the prisoner now. They all crowd around
Lucas. Jan calls out his orders in vain: Piet the Red
alone listens to what he says, the others all want to know
what Lucas means. They had been in the thick of a
plot of course, they all knew that: a guet-apens had
been prepared by the Lord of Stoutenburg for the Stadt-
holder whom he hates. The heavy boxes of course--
gunpowder . . . to blow up the wooden bridge when
the Stadtholder and his escort are half way across !
Of course they had all guessed it, thought on it all
through the night while they polished the arms-the
swords and the pistols and the cullivers-which had been
served out to them. They had guessed of course-the
foreign mercenaries who were always in the thick of every
conspiracy and well paid for being so--they had been
the first to guess and they had told the country louts,
who only grinned enjoying the prospect of the fun.
But now they were betrayed. Lucas of Sparendam
had come back with the news, and even Jan stopped in
his hideous task in order to listen to what he had to say.
" It all happened yesterday," quoth Lucas as soon as he
had recovered his breath, "the rumour began in the
lower quarters of the town. Nobody knows who began
it. Some say that a foreigner came into the city n the

348

" SAUVE QUI PEUT "

early morning and sat down at one of the taverns to
eat and drink with the Prince's soldiers."
"A foreigner ? "
Jan turns to look on the prisoner and encounters his
mocking glance. Smothering a curse he resumes his
task of adjusting the rope upon the gibbet, but his fingers
are unsteady and his work doth not progress.
" Yes, a foreigner," continued Lucas volubly, " though
it all has remained very mysterious. The Prince's
soldiers spoke of it' amongst themselves . .. the
foreigner had said something about a guet-apens, a plot
against the Stadtholder's life on his way to the North .
then one of the officers heard the rumour and carried it
to one of his superiors . .. By the evening it had
reached the Stadtholder's ears."
"Then what happened? " they all asked eagerly.
" Nothing for some hours," replies Lucas, " but I know
that spies were sent round in every direction, and that
by midnight there was general talk in the city that the
Stadtholder would not continue his journey to the North.
When the captain of the guard came to him for orders
the Prince said curtly: 'We do not start to-morrow ! '
As soon as I heard of this I made preparations. It was
then an hour after midnight. I was still alert and listen-
ing: all around me-as I made ready to leave the city--
I heard rumours among the soldiers and spies of the
Stadtholder, of their knowledge of a lonely spot-a
deserted molens-near Ryswyk where they declared
many men did lately congregate. I heard too that soon
after dawn the Prince's guard would make straight for
the molens, so I put on my snow shoes and started to
run, despite the darkness and the fog, for we are all
betrayed and the Stadtholder's soldiers will be on us in
a trice."
Hardly are the words out of Lucas Sparendam's mouth
than the commotion begins, the disbanding; there is a
roar and a bustle and a buzz: metal clashing, men
rushing, cries of " We are betrayed ! sauve qui peut / "
At first there is a general stampede for the places
where the arms are kept-the muskets, the swords and

349

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

cullivers-but these are thrown down almost as soon as
they are picked up. They are no use now and worse
than useless in a flight. But pistols are useful, in case
of pursuit "Quick, turn fire! . . . so where are the
pistols? . . . Jan, where are those pistols ? "
There are not enough to go round: about a dozen
were served out last night, and there are forty pairs of
hands determined to possess one at least. So they
begin to fight for them, tearing one another to pieces,
shouting execrations, beating round with bare fists, since
the other arms have already been laid down.
Now the confusion becomes worse than any that might
reign among a herd of animals who are ready to rend
one another: they tear the clothes off one another's
back, the skin off one another's face: fear-hideous,
overwhelming, abject fear, has made wild beasts of these
men. The mist envelops them, it is barely light in this
basement beneath the molens: lanthorn's have long
ago been kicked into extinction. The hot breath of
forty panting throats mingles with the mist, and the
heat of human bodies fever-heated with passion, fights
against the strength of the frost. The frozen ground
yields under the feet, clots of mud are thrown up by the
stampede, from the beams up aloft the heavy icicles
melt and drip monotonously, incessantly down upon
those faces, red and perspiring in an agony of demented
fear.
Jan and Piet the Red stand alone beside the prisoner:
a sense of duty, of decency, hath kept their blood cool.
Until they are relieved from their post of guarding this
man by orders from their lord, they will not move. Let
the others rage and scream and tumble over one another,
there must be at least a few soldiers among this rabble.
And the prisoner looks on all this confusion with eyes
that dance and sparkle with the excitement of what is
yet to come. Torn rags and broken accoutrements
soon lie in a litter in the mud, trampled in by forty pairs
of feet. There is not one face now that is not streaked
with blood, not one throat that is not hoarse with terror-
the terror of the unknown.

35o

" SAUVE QUI PEUT "

In vain Jan from his post beside the prisoner shouts,
harangues, appeals, threatens! A fight ? yes! defeat ?
why not ? but betrayal! . . . no, no, let's away.
The Stadtholder is fiercer than any Inquisitor of Spain . . .
his cruelty last February almost turned the nation
against him. But now-this second conspiracy-Stout-
enburg again ! what hope for his followers ?
The horrors of last February perpetrated in the Gevan-
gen Poort of 'S Graven Hage still cause many a rough
cheek to blanch at their recollection. Men had gone
mad who had heard the cries which pierced those stone
walls then. One executioner had thrown down his
bloody tools and fled from the place like one possessed !
Van Dyk and Korenwinder, Slatius and the rest had
been in hell ere a merciful death at last released them
from the barbaric cruelty of the Prince of Orange.
"No, no ! such a fate cannot be risked. We are be-
trayed ! let us fly ! "
Suddenly one man starts to run.
"I am for the coast!" he shouts, and incontinently
takes to his heels.
" Sauve qui peut / "
Like irresponsible creatures they throw down the very
weapons for which they have been fighting. The one
man has given the signal for the run. Everything now
is thrown aside, there is no thought save for flight.
A splashing of the mud, a general shout, a scramble, a
clatter-they run-they run-crying to those who are
behind to follow and run too.
In five minutes the dark basement is clear of noise--
a litter of broken arms lies in one heap close by, others are
scattered all over the ground in the mud, together with
torn clothing, rags of leather and of cloth and great red
pools that mingle with the melted ice.
The mist surrounds it all, this abandoned battle field.
wherein fear was the victor over man. The swiftly flying
figures are soon swallowed up by the grey wall which lies
dense and heavy over the lowland around; for a time
they appear like ghosts with blurred outlines of torn
doublets and scraps of felt hats placed awry; then the

351

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

outline gets more dim as they run, and the kindly mist
hides them from view.
Under the molens all is silent now. Jan and Piet the
Red guard the prisoner alone. The gallows are ready or
nearly so, but there is no one to send to the Lord of
Stoutenburg to tell him this-as he hath commanded-
so that he may see this man hang whom he hates. And
it would not be safe to leave the prisoner unguarded.
Only from time to time Jan looks to see that the ropes
still hold fast, but for the most part his eyes are fixed
upon the mist on his left, for that way lies Delft, and
from thence will loom out by and by the avenging hordes
sent by the Prince of Orange.
Now that all those panting, perspiring human creatures
have gone, the frost is more bitter, more biting than
before; but neither Piet nor Jan seem to heed it, though
their flesh is blue with the cold. Overhead there is a
tramp of feet ; the noble mynheers must have heard the
confusion, they must have seen the flight; they are
even now preparing to do in a slightly more dignified
way what the foreign mercenaries and the louts from
the country have done so incontinently.
The prisoner, hearing this tramp of feet over his head,
looks more alertly around him. He sees that Jan and
Piet have remained on guard even whilst the others
have fled. He also sees the pile of heaped-up arms, the
broken metal, the rags and the mud, and through the
interstices of the wooden steps the booted feet of the
mynheers running helter-skelter down; and a mad,
merry laugh-that holds a world of joy in its rippling
tones-breaks from his lips.
The next moment from far away comes a weird cry
through the mist. A fox on the alert tries to lure his
prey with that quaint cry of his, which appeals to the
young birds and encourages them to come. What should
a fox be doing on these ice-covered tracks ? he must
have strayed from very far, from over the moor mayhap
beyond Gonda; hunger no doubt hath made a wanderer
of him, an exile from his home.
Jan listens-greatly astonished-what should a fox

352

" SAUVE QUI PEUT " 353
be doing here? Piet is impassive, he knows nothing of
the habits of foxes; sea-wolves are more familiar to him.
With his eyes Jan instinctively questions the prisoner:
" What should a fox be doing here on these ice-bound
flats ? " he mutely asks.
But the prisoner apparently cares nothing about the
marvels of nature, cares nothing about exiled foxes.
His head is erect, his eyes dance with glee, a happy smile
lights up his entire face.
Jan remembered that the others last night had called
the wounded man the Laughing Cavalier. A Cavalier
he looked, every inch of him ; the ropes mattered nothing,
nor the torn clothing ; proud, triumphant, happy, he was
laughing with all the light-hearted gaiety which pertains
to youth.
The Laughing Cavalier forsooth. Lucky devil! if he
can laugh ! Jan sighed and marvelled when the Lord
of Stoutenburg would relieve him from his post.

CHAPTER XL

THE LOSER PAYS

NICOLAES BERESTEYN had not gone far when Lucas ot
Sparendam came running with the news. He heard it
all, he saw the confusion, the first signs of sauve qui
peut.
At first he was like one paralyzed with horror and with
fear; he could not move, his limbs refused him service.
Then he thought of his friends-some up in the molens,
others at various posts on the road and by the bridge--
they might not hear the confusion and the tumult, they
might not see the coming sauve qui peut; they might not
hear that the Stadtholder's spies are on the alert, and that
his bodyguard might be here at any time.
Just then the disbanding began. Nicolaes Beresteyn
pushed his way through the fighting, quarrelling crowd
to where Lucas of Sparendam, still exhausted and weak,
was leaning up against a beam.
" Their lordships up in the molens," he said in a voice
still choked with fear, " and the Lord of Stoutenburg in
the hut with the jongejuffrouw... Come and tell
them at once all that you know."
And he dragged Lucas of Sparendam in his wake.
The Lord of Stoutenburg was at Gilda's feet when
Beresteyn ran in with Lucas to tell him the news.
After he had given Jan the orders to prepare the gallows
for the summary execution of the prisoner he had resumed
his wild, restless pacing up and down the room. There
was no remorse in him for his inhuman and cowardly
act, but his nerves were all on the jar, and that perpetual
354

THE LOSER PAYS

hammering which went on in the distance drove him to
frantic exasperation.
A picture of the happenings in the basement down
below would obtrude itself upon his mental vision; he
saw the prisoner-careless, contemptuous, ready for death;
Jan sullen but obedient; the men murmuring and dis-
affected. He felt as if the hammering was now directed
against his own head, he could have screamed aloud with
the agony of this weary, expectant hour.
Then he thought of Gilda. Slowly the dawn was
breaking, the hammering had ceased momentarily; silence
reigned in the basement after the turbulence of the
past hour. The Lord of Stoutenburg did not dare con-
jecture what this silence meant.
The thought of Gilda became more insistent. He
snatched up a cloak and wrapping it closely round him,
he ran out into the mist. Quickly descending the steps,
he at once turned his back on the basement where the
last act of the supreme tragedy would be enacted presently.
He felt like a man pursued, with the angel of Nemesis
close to his heels, hour-glass in hand to mark the hour of
retribution.
He hoped to find rest and peace beside Gilda; he
would not tell her that he had condemned the man to
death. Let her forget him peaceably and naturally; the
events of to-day would surely obliterate other matters
from her mind. What was the life of a foreign vagabond
beside the destinies of Holland which an avenging God
would help to settle to-day ?
The Lord of Stoutenburg had walked rapidly to the
hut where he hoped to find Gilda ready to receive him.
He knocked at the door and Maria opened it to him.
To his infinite relief she told him that the jongejuffrouw
had broken her fast and would gladly speak with him.
Gilda, he thought, looked very pale and fragile in the
dim light of two or three tallow candles placed in sconces
about the room. There were dark circles round her eyes,
and a pathetic trembling of her lips proclaimed the near
presence of tears.
But there was an atmosphere of peace in the tiny

355

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

room, with its humble little bits of furniture and the
huge earthenware stove from which the pleasing glow of
a wood fire emanated and shed a cheerful radiance around.
The Lord of Stoutenburg felt that here in Gilda's
presence he could forget his ambitions and his crimes,
the man whom he was so foully putting to death, his
jealousies and even his revenge.
He drew a low chair close to her and half-sitting, half-
kneeling, began speaking to her as gently, as simply as
his harsh voice and impatient temperament would allow.
He spoke mostly about the future, only touching very
casually on the pain which she had caused him by her
unjust suspicions of him.
Gilda listened to him in silence for awhile. She was
collecting all her will-power, all her strength of purpose
for the task which lay before her-the task of softening
a hardened and treacherous heart, of rousing in it a spark
of chivalry and of honour so that it showed mercy there
where it now threatened injustice, cruelty and almost
inhuman cowardice.
A brave man's life was in the hands of this man, who
professed love for her; and though Gilda rejected that
love with contempt, she meant, womanlike, to use that
love as a mainspring for the softened mood which she
wished to call forth.
The first thought that had broken in upon her after a
brief and troubled sleep was that a brave young life
would be sacrificed to-day to gratify the petty spite of a
fiend. She had been persuaded yesterday that the man
who-though helpless and pinioned-stood before her in
all the splendour of manhood and of a magnificent person-
ality was nothing but a common criminal-a liar, a forger
and a thief.
Though this thought should have made her contented,
since by bringing guilt home to a man who was nothing
to her, it exonerated her brother whom she loved, she
had felt all night, right through the disturbing dreams
which had floated through her consciousness, a leaden
weight sitting upon her heart, like the sense of the com-
mittal of some great and irreparable wrong. Indeed, she

356

THE LOSER PAYS

felt that if here in this very place which he had filled
last night with his exuberant vitality, she had to think
of him as silent and cold for all eternity, such a thought
would drive her mad.
The Lord of Stoutenburg's honeyed words fell unheeded
on her ear; his presence near her filled her with horror;
she only kept up a semblance of interest in him, because
he held the fate of another man in the hollow of his
hand.
She was preparing in her mind what she was going to
say to him, she rehearsed the words which were most
likely to appeal to his callous nature. Already she was
nerving herself for the supreme effort of pleading for a
brave man's life when suddenly the tramping of heavy
feet outside the hut, confused shouts and clang of arms,
caused Stoutenburg to jump to his feet.
The door was torn open, and Nicolaes Beresteyn stood
for a moment on the threshold, pale, speechless, with body
trembling and moisture thick upon his brow. Lucas of
Sparendam was close behind him equally pale and
still.
At first sight of her brother Gilda had uttered a little
cry of joy; but that cry soon died upon her lips. Beres-
teyn had scarcely looked on her, his glance at once had
found that of Stoutenburg, and the two men seemed to
understand one another.
"We are betrayed ? " cried Stoutenburg hoarsely.
Beresteyn nodded in reply.
" How ? "
Lucas of Sparendam in short jerky sentences retold
once more the tale of all that had happened at Delft:
the Prince of Orange warned, the spies which he had
sent broadcast, the bodyguard which even now was on
its way.
"They know of this place," murmured Beresteyn
between quivering lips, "they might be here at any
moment."
Through the open door there came the noise of the
men fighting, the cries of rage and of fear, the clatter
of metal and the tramping of many feet.

357

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

"They are scared and half mad," said Lucas of Spar-
endam, "in five minutes the sauve qui peut will com-
mence."
" We are quite near the coast," said Stoutenburg with
outward calm, though his voice was choked and his
tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, "go you and
tell the others, Beresteyn," he added, turning to his
friend, " then collect all our papers that are in the molens.
Thank God there are only a few that might compromise
us at all. Heemskerk and van Does will help you, they
are not like to be seized with panic. We can then make
quietly for Scheveningen, where the boats are ready.
There is a sledge here and a pair of horses which I shall
need; but it is less than a league to Scheveningen, and
you can all walk it easily. Tell the others not to lose time
and I will follow with the sledge as soon as may be. There
is no cause for a panic and we can all save ourselves."
Beresteyn made ready to go. He took less pains than
Stoutenburg to conceal his terror and his knees frankly
shook under him. At the door he paused. He had
suddenly remembered Gilda.
She had risen from her chair and stood now like a
statue carved in stone, white to the lips, wide-eyed, her
whole expression one of infinite horror.
It had all been lies then, all that Stoutenburg had
told her yesterday! He had concealed the monstrous
truth, lying to her with every word he uttered. Now he
stood there pale and trembling, the traitor who in his
turn has been betrayed. Fear and blind rage were
fighting their last deathly battle in his soul. The edifice
of his treachery was crumbling around him; God's
hand--through an unknown channel-had set the limit
to his crimes. Twice a traitor, he had twice failed.
Already he could see the disbanding of his mercenary
troops, the beginning of that mad, wild flight to the coast,
and down the steps of the molens his friends too were
running helter-skelter, without thought of anything save
of their own safety.
It would be so immeasurably horrible to fall into the
Stadtholder's hands.

358

THE LOSER PAYS

And Gilda, pale and silent, stood between the two men
who had lied to her, outraged her to the end. Nicolaes
was a traitor after all; he had cast the eternal shroud
of shame over the honour and peace of his house. An
God did not help him now, his death would complete
that shame.
She tried to hold his glance, but he would not look at
her; she felt that his wrath of her almost bordered on
hatred because he believed that she had betrayed them
all. His eyes were fixed upon his leader and friend,
and all the anxiety which he felt was for that one man.
"You must not delay, Nicolaes," said Stoutenburg
curtly, "go, warn the others and tell them to make for
Scheveningen. But do you wait for me--we'll follow
anon in the sledge and, of course, Gilda comes with us."
And Beresteyn said firmly :
" Of course, Gilda comes with us."
She was not afraid, even when he said this, even when
his fierce glance rested upon her, and she was too proud
to make an appeal to him. It was her turn now to
avert her glance from him; to the bottom of her soul
she loathed his cowardice, and the contempt with which
she regarded him now was almost cruel in its intensity.
He went out of the room followed by Lucas of Sparen-
dam, and now she was once more alone with the Lord
of Stoutenburg.
" Gilda," he cried with a fierce oath, "when did you
do this ? "
" It was not I, my lord," she replied calmly, " you and
Nicolaes did all that lay in your power to render me
helpless in this. God knows I would not have betrayed
you . . . it is His hand that hath pointed the way to
one who was more brave than I."
" 'Tis false," he exclaimed violently, "no one knew
of our plans save those who now must flee because like us
they have been betrayed. No sane man would wilfully
put his head in the halter; and there are no informers
amongst us."
" You need not believe me, my lord," she rejoined
coldly, " an you do not wish, But remember that I

359

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

have never learnt the art of lying, nor could I be the
Judas to betray my own brother. Therefore do I pledge
you my word that I had no share in this decree of God."
"If not yourself," he retorted, "you spoke of it to
some one .. . who went to the Stadtholder ... and
warnedhim ! to some one . . . some one who .. . Ah ! "
he cried suddenly with a loud and ghoulish scream wherein
rage, horror and fear and a kind of savage triumph too
rang out, "I see that I have guessed aright. You did
speak of what you knew .., to the miserable knave
whom Nicolaes paid to outrage you . . . and you offered
him money to betray your own brother."
" It is false ! "
" It is true--I can read it in your face. That man
went to Delft yesterday-he was captured by Jan on his
way back to Rotterdam. He had fulfilled your errand
and warned the Prince of Orange and delivered me and
all my friends into hands that never have known mercy."
He was blind with passion now and looked on her with
bloodshot eyes that threatened to kill. But Gilda was
not cast in the same mould as was this traitor.
Baffled in his crime, fear had completely unmanned him,
but with every cry of rage uttered by Stoutenburg she
became more calm and less afraid.
" Once more, my lord," she said quietly in the brief
interval of Stoutenburg's ravings and while he was forced
to draw breath, " do I pledge my word to you that I
had no hand in saving the Stadtholder's life. That God
chose for this another instrument than I, I do thank
Him on my knees."
While she spoke Stoutenburg had made a quick effort
to regain some semblance of composure, and now he
contrived to say quite calmly and with an evil sneer
upon his face :
" That instrument of God is, an I mistake not, tied to a
post with ropes like an ox ready for the butcher's hand.
Though I have but sorry chances of escape myself and
every minute hath become precious, I can at least spend
five in making sure that his fate at any rate be sorrier
than mine."

360

THE LOSER PAYS

Her face became if possible even paler than before.
" What do you mean to do ? " she murmured.
"The man who has betrayed me to the Prince of Orange
is the same man who laid hands upon you in Haarlem-
is that not so ? "
" I cannot say," she said firmly.
" The same man who was here in this room yesterday,
bound and pinioned before you ? " he insisted.
" I do not know."
" Will you swear then that you never spoke to him
of the Prince of Orange, and of our plans."
" Not of your plans . . ." she protested calmly.
" You see that you cannot deny it, Gilda," he continued
with that same unnatural calm which seemed to her far
more horrible than his rage had been before. " Willingly
or unwittingly you let that man know what you overheard
in the Groote Kerk on New Year's Eve. Then you bribed
him into warning the Prince of Orange, since you could
not do it yourself."
" It is false," she reiterated wildly.
Once more that evil sneer distorted his pale face.
" Well ! " he said, "whether you bribed him or not
matters to me but little. I do believe that willingly
you would not have betrayed Nicolaes or me or any
of our friends to the Stadtholder, knowing what he is.
But you wanted to cross our plans, you wanted to warn
the Stadtholder of his danger, and you-not God-chose
that man for your instrument."
" It is not true-I deny it," she repeated fearlessly.
" You may deny it with words, Gilda, but your whole
attitude proclaims the truth. Thank God! " he cried
with a note of savage triumph in his voice, "that man
is still a helpless prisoner in my hands."
" What do you mean? " she murmured.
" I mean that it is good to hold the life of one's dead-
liest enemy in the hollow of one's hand."
" But you would not slay a defenceless prisoner," she
cried.
He laughed, a bitter, harsh, unnatural laugh.
" Slay him," he cried, " aye that I will, if it is not

36i

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

already done. Did you hear the hammering and the
knocking awhile ago ? It was Jan making ready the
gibbet. And now-though the men have run away like
so many verdommde cowards, I know that Jan at any
rate has remained faithful to his post. The gibbet is
still there, and Jan and I and Nicolaes, we have three
pairs of hands between us, strong enough to make an
enemy swing twixt earth and heaven, and three pairs of
eyes wherewith to see an informer perish upon the gallows."
But already she had interrupted him with a loud cry
of overwhelming horror.
" Are you a fiend to think of such a thing ? "
"No," he replied, " only a man who has a wrong to
avenge."
" The wrong was in your treachery," she retorted,
even while indignation nearly choked the words in her
throat, " no honest man could refuse to warn another
that a murderous trap had been laid for him."
" Possibly. But through that warning given by a
man whom I hate, my life is practically at an end."
" Life can only be ended by death," she pleaded, " and
yours is in no danger yet. In a couple of hours as you
say you will have reached the coast. No doubt you have
taken full measures for your safety. The Stadtholder is
sick. He hath scarce a few months to live; when he
dies everything will be forgotten, you can return and
begin your life anew. Oh ! you will thank God then on
your knees, that this last hideous crime doth not weigh
upon your soul."
"A wrong unavenged would weigh my soul down
with bitterness," he said sombrely. " My life is done,
Gilda. Ambition, hope, success, everything that I care
for has gone from me. Nicolaes may begin his life anew;
he is young and his soul is not like mine consumed with
ambition and with hatred. But for that one man, I
were to-day Stadtholder of half our provinces and sole
ruler of our United Netherlands, instead of which from
this hour forth I shall be a fugitive, a pariah, an exile.
All this do I owe to one man," he added fiercely, " and I
take my revenge, that is all."

36z

THE LOSER PAYS

He made a feint as if ready to go. But Gilda with a
moan of anguish had already held him back. Despite
the loathing which the slightest contact with such a
fiend caused her, she clung with both her hands to his
arm.
" My lord! " she entreated, " in the name of your
dear mother, in the name of all that is yet good and
pure and noble in you, do not allow this monstrous crime
to add to the heavy load of sin which rests upon your
soul. God is just," she added earnestly, " God will
punish us all if such an infamy is done now at this supreme
hour when our destinies are being weighed in the balance."
But he looked down on her suddenly, with an evil
leer which sent a chill right through her to her heart.
" Are you pleading for a man who mayhap hath sent
your brother to the scaffold ? " he asked.
His glance now was so dark and so cruel, the suspicion
which lurked in it was so clear, that for the moment
Gilda was overawed by this passion of hate and jealousy
which she was unable to fathom. The quick hot blood
of indignation rushed to her pale cheeks.
"It was of Nicolaes that I was thinking," she said
proudly, "if that man dies now, I feel that such a das-
tardly crime would remain a lasting stain upon the honour
of our house."
"The crime is on you, Gilda," he retorted, "in that
you did betray us all. Willingly or unwittingly, you did
deliver me into the hands of my most bitter enemy.
But, I pray, you, plead no more for a knave whom you
surely must hate even more bitterly than I do hate him.
The time goes by, and every wasted minute becomes
dangerous now. I pray you make yourself ready to
depart."
She had not given up all thoughts of pleading yet;
though she knew that for the moment she had failed,
there floated vaguely at the back of her mind a dim
hope that God would not abandon her in this her bitterest
need. He had helped her in her direst trouble; He had
averted the hideous treachery which threatened to stain
her father's honoured name and her own with a hideous

363

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

mark of shame; surely He would not allow this last
most terrible crime to be committed.
No doubt that vague frame of mind, born of intense
bodily and mental fatigue, betrayed itself in the absent
expression in her eyes, for Stoutenburg reiterated impati-
ently 4
" I can give you a quarter of an hour wherein to make
ready."
"A quarter of an hour," she murmured vaguely, "to
make ready ? . . . for what ? "
" For immediate departure with me and your brother
for Belgium."
Still she did not understand. A deep frown of puzzle-
ment appeared between her brows.
"Departure ?-with you ?-what do you mean, my
lord ? " she asked.
" I mean," he replied roughly, " that out of the wreck-
age of all my ambitions, my desires and my hopes I will
at least save something that will compensate me for all
that I have lost. You said just now that life could only
end in death. Well! next to mine ambition and my
desire for vengeance, you, Gilda, as you know, do fill my
entire soul. With you beside me I may try to begin life
anew. I leave for the coast in less than half an hour;
Nicolaes will be with us and he will care for you. But
I will not go without you, so you must come with
us."
" Never ! " she said firmly.
But Stoutenburg only laughed with careless mockery.
"Who will protect you ? " he said, "when I take
you in my arms and carry you to the sledge, which in a
quarter of an hour will be ready for you ? Who will
protect you when I carry you in my arms from the sledge
to the boat which awaits us at Scheveningen ? "
"Nicolaes, "she rejoined calmly, " is my brother-he
would not permit such an outrage."
An ironical smile curled the corners of his cruel lips.
" Do you really think, Gilda," he said, " that Nicolaes
will run counter to my will ? I have but to persuade
him that your presence in IIolland will be a pert etual

364

THE LOSER PAYS

menace to our safety. Besides, you heard what he said
just now; that you, of course, would come with us."
" My dead body you can take with you," she retorted,
" but I-alive-will never follow you."
" Then 'tis your dead body I'll take, Gilda," he said
with a sneer, " I will be here to fetch you in a quarter
of an hour, so I pray you make ready while I go to deal
with that meddlesome instrument of God."
She was spent now, and had no strength for more; a
great numbness, an overpowering fatigue seemed to creep
into her limbs. She even allowed him to take her hand
and to raise it to his lips, for she was quite powerless
to resist him; only when she felt those burning lips
against her flesh a shudder of infinite loathing went right
through her body.
Soon he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.
She heard the thin wooden door fall to with a bang
behind him; but she could no longer see, a kind of dark-
ness had fallen over her eyes, a darkness in which only
one figure appeared clearly-the figure of a man upon a
gibbet. All else was blackness around her, impenetrable
blackness, almost tangible in its intensity, and out of the
blackness which seemed like that of a dungeon there
came cries as of human creatures in hell.
" Lord have mercy upon him!" her lips, cold and
white, murmured vaguely and insistently, "Lord have
mercy upon him ! Lord have mercy upon us all ! "

365

CHAPTER XLI

"VENGEANCE IS MINE"

IT was like a man possessed of devils that the Lord of
Stoutenburg ran out through the mist toward the molens.
The grey light of this winter's morning had only vaguely
pierced the surrounding gloom, and the basement beneath
the molens still ldoked impenetrably dark. Dark and
silent ! the soldiers-foreign mercenaries and louts-had
vanished in the fog, arms hastily thrown down littered
the mud-covered ground, swords, pistols, muskets, torn
clothing, here and there a neck-cloth, a steel bonnet, a
bright coloured sash. Stoutenburg saw it all, right
through the gloom, and he ground his teeth together
to smother a cry of agonized impotence.
Only now and then a ghostly form flitted swift and
silent- among the intricate maze of beams, a laggard
left behind in the general scramble for safety, or a human
scavenger on the prowl for loot. Now and then a groan
or a curse came from out the darkness, and a weird, shape-
less, moving thing would crawl along in the mud like
some creeping reptile seeking its lair. But Stoutenburg
looked neither to right nor left. He paid no heed to
these swiftly fleeting ghostlike forms. He knew well
enough that he would find silence here, that three dozen
men-cowards and mercenaries all-had been scattered
like locusts before a gale. Overhead he heard the tramp-
ing of feet, his friends-Beresteyn, Heemskerk, van Does-
were making ready for flight. His one scheme of ven-
geance-that for which he had thirsted and plotted and
sinned-had come to nought, but he had yet another
166

" VENGEANCE IS MINE"

in his mind-one which, if successful, would give him no
small measure of satisfaction for the failure of the other.
And ahead the outline of the hastily improvised
gallows detached itself out of the misty shroud, and from
the Lord of Stoutenburg's throat there came a fierce cry
of joy which surely must have delighted all the demons
in hell.
He hurried on, covering with swift eager steps the
short distance that separated him from the gibbet.
He called loudly to Jan, for it seemed to him as if the
place was unaccountably deserted. He could not see
Jan nor yet the prisoner, and surely Piet the Red had
not proved a coward.
The solid beams above and around him threw back
his call in reverberating echoes. He called again, and
from far away a mocking laugh seemed alone to answer
him.
Like a frightened beast now he bounded forward.
There were the gallows not five paces away from him;
the planks hastily hammered together awhile ago were
creaking weirdly, buffeted by the wind, and up aloft
the rope was swinging, beating itself with a dull, eerie
sound against the wood.
The Lord of Stoutenburg-dazed and stupefied-
looked on this desolate picture like a man in a dream.
" My lord ! "
The voice came feebly from somewhere close by.
"My lord ! for pity's sake ! "
It was Jan's voice of course. The Lord of Stoutenburg
turned mechanically in the direction from whence it came.
Not far from where he was standing he saw Jan lying
on the ground against a beam, with a scarf wound loosely
round his mouth and his arms held with a cord behind
his back. Stoutenburg unwound the scarf and untied the
cord, then he murmured dully:
" Jan ? What does this mean ? "
" The men all threw down their arms, my lord," said
Jan as soon as he had struggled to his feet, "they ran
like cowards when Lucas of Sparendam brought the
news."

367

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

"I knew that," said Stoutenburg hoarsely, "curse
them all for their miserable cowardice. But the prisoner,
man, the prisoner ? What have you done with him ?
Did I not order you to guard him with your life ? "
"Then is mine own life forfeit, my lord," said Jan
simply, " for I did fail in guarding the prisoner."
A violent oath broke from Stoutenburg's trembling
lips. He raised his clenched fist, ready to strike in his
blind, unreasoning fury the one man who had remained
faithful to him to the last.
Jan slowly bent the knee.
" Kill me, my lord," he said calmly, "I could not
guard the prisoner."
Stoutenburg was silent for a moment, then his upraised
arm fell nervelessly by his side.
" How did it happen ? " he asked.
"I scarce can tell you, my lord," replied Jan, "the
attack on us was so quick and sudden. Piet and I did
remain at our post, but in the rush and the panic we
presently were left alone beside the prisoner. Two
men--who were his friends-must have been on the
watch for this opportunity, they fell on us from behind
and caught us unawares. We called in vain for assist-
ance; it was a case of sauve qui peut and every one for
himself; in a trice the cords that bound the prisoner
were cut, and the three men had very quickly the best of
us. Piet, though wounded in the leg, contrived to escape,
but it almost seemed as if those three demons were deter-
mined to spare me. Though, by God," added Jan fer-
vently, " I would gladly have died rather than have seen
all this shame ! When they had brought me down they
wound a scarf round my mouth and left me here tied
to a beam, while they disappeared in the fog."
Stoutenburg made no comment on this brief narrative,
even the power of cursing seemed to have deserted him.
He left Jan kneeling there on the frozen ground, and
without a word he turned on his heel and made his way
once more between the beams under the molens back
toward the hut.
Vengeance indeed had eluded his grasp. The two men

368

"VENGEANCE IS MINE"

whom on earth he hated most had remained triumphant
while he himself had been brought down to the lowest
depths of loneliness and misery. Friendless, kinless now,
life indeed, as he had told Gilda, was at an end for him.
Baffled vengeance would henceforth make of him a
perpetual exile and a fugitive with every man's hand
raised against him, a price once more upon his head.
The world doth at times allow a man to fail in the task
of his life, it will forgive that one failure and allow the
man to try again. But a second failure is unforgiveable,
men turn away from the blunderer in contempt. Who
would risk life, honour and liberty in a cause that has
twice failed ?
Stoutenburg knew this. He knew that within the next
hour his friends would already have practically deserted
him. Panic-stricken now they would accompany him as
far as the coast, they would avail themselves of all the
measures which he had devised for their mutual safety,
but in their innermost hearts they would already have
detached themselves from his future ill-fortunes; and
anon, in a few months mayhap, when the Stadtholder
had succumbed to the disease which was threatening his
life, they would all return to their homes and to their
kindred and forget this brief episode wherein their
leader's future had been so completely and so irretrievably
wrecked.
They would forget, only he-Stoutenburg-would re-
main the pariah, the exile, that carries the brand of
traitor for ever upon the pages of his life.
And now the hut is once more in sight, and for one
brief instant an inward light flickers up in Stoutenburg's
dulled eyes. Gilda is there, Gilda whom he loves, and
whose presence in the sorrow-laden years that are to
come would be a perpetual compensation for all the humi-
liation and all the shame which he had endured.
To-day mayhap she would follow him unwillingly, but
Stoutenburg's passion was proof against her coldness.
He felt that he could conquer her, that he could win her
love, when once he had her all to himself in a distant land,
when she-kinless too and forlorn--would naturally turn
2A

369

370 THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
to him for protection and for love. He had little doubt
that he would succeed, and vaguely in his mind there rose
the pale ray of hope that her love would then bring him
luck, or at any rate put renewed energy in him to begin
his life anew.

CHAPTER XLII

THE FIGHT IN THE DOORWAY

IT seemed to Stoutenburg that from the back of the hut
there came the sound of bustle and activity: he thought
that mayhap Beresteyn had had the good idea of making
the sledge ready for departure, and he called out loudly
to his friend.
It was a mocking voice, however, that rose in response:
" Was your Magnificence perchance looking for me ? "
Out of the mist which still hung round the small build-
ing Diogenes' tall figure suddenly loomed before the
Lord of Stoutenburg. He was standing in the doorway
of the hut, with his back to it ; one hand-the right one-
was thrust inside his doublet, the left was on the hilt of his
sword; his battered hat was tilted rakishly above his
brow and he was regarding his approaching enemy with
a look of keen amusement and of scorn.
At first Stoutenburg thought that his fevered fancy
was playing his eyes a weird and elusive trick, then as
the reality of what he saw fully burst upon his senses
he uttered a loud and hoarse cry like a savage beast that
has been wounded.
" Plepshurk ! smeerlap ! " he cried fiercely.
" Rogue ! Villain ! Menial ! Varlet ! and all that you
care to name me, my lord!" quoth the philosopher
lightly, " and entirely at your service."
" Jan !" cried Stoutenburg, " Jan! In the name of
hell where are you ? "
" Not very far, my lord," rejoined the other. " Jan
is a brave soldier but he was no match for three philoso-
phers, even though one of them at first was trussed like
a fowl. Jan stuck to his post, my lord, remember that,"
he added more seriously, "even when all your other
371

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

followers and friends were scattered to the winds like a
crowd of mice at the approach of a cat. We did not hurt
Jan because he is a brave soldier, but we tied him down
lest he ran to get assistance whilst assistance was still
available."
" You insolent knave . . ."
" You speak rightly, my lord : I am an insolent knave,
and do so rejoice in mine insolence that I stayed behind
here-while my brother philosophers accomplish the
task which I have put upon them--on purpose to exercise
some of that insolence upon you, and to see what power
a man hath to curb his temper and to look pleasant,
whilst an insolent knave doth tell him to his face that
he is an abject and degraded cur."
" Then by Heaven, you abominable plepshurk," cried
Stoutenburg white with passion, " since you stayed here
to parley with me, I can still give you so complete a retort
that your final insolence will have to be spoken in hell.
But let me pass now. I have business inside the hut."
" I know you have, my lord," rejoined Diogenes coolly,
" but I am afraid that your business will have to wait
until two philosophers named respectively Pythagoras
and Socrates have had time to finish theirs."
" What do you mean ? Let me pass, I tell you, or .. ."
" Or the wrath of your Magnificence will once more be
upon mine unworthy head. Dondersteen! what have
I not suffered already from that all-powerful wrath ! "
" You should have been hanged ere this . ."
" It is an omission, my lord, which I fear me we must
now leave to the future to rectify."
" Stand aside, man," cried Stoutenburg, who was hoarse
with passion.
" No ! not just yet ! " was the other's calm reply.
" Stand aside ! " reiterated Stoutenburg wildly.
He drew his sword and made a quick thrust at his
enemy; he remembered the man's wounded shoulder
and saw that his right hand was temporarily disabled.
" Ah, my lord ! " quoth Diogenes lightly, as with his
left he drew Bucephalus out of its scabbard, " you had
forgotten or perhaps you never knew that during your

372

THE FIGHT IN THE DOORWAY

followers' scramble for safety my sword remained un-
heeded in an easily accessible spot, and also that it is as
much at home in my left hand as in my right."
Like a bull goaded to fury Stoutenburg made a second
and more vigorous thrust at his opponent. But Diogenes
was already on guard : calm, very quiet in his movements,
in the manner of the perfect swordsman. Stoutenburg, hot
with rage, impetuous and clumsy, was at once at a dis-
advantage whilst this foreign adventurer, entirely self-
possessed and good-humoured, had the art of the sword
at his finger-tips--the art of perfect self-control, the art
of not rushing to the attack, the supreme art of waiting
for an opportunity.
No feint or thrust at first, only on guard, quietly on
guard, and Bucephalus seemed to be infinitely multiplied
at times so quickly did the bright steel flash out in the
grey light and then subside again.
Stoutenburg was at once conscious of his own disad-
vantage. He was no match for this brilliant sword-play;
his opponent did indeed appear to be only playing with
him, but Stoutenburg felt all the time that the abominable
knave might disarm him at any moment if he were so
minded.
Nor could he see very clearly: the passionate blood in
him had rushed to his head and was beating furiously
in his temples, whilst the other man with the additional
advantage of a good position against the wall, kept up a
perfect fusillade of good-humoured comments.
" Well attacked, my lord ! " he cried gaily, " Donder-
steen ! were I as fat as your Magnificence supposes, your
sword would ere now have made a hole in my side. Pity
I am not broader, is it not ? or more in the way of your
sword. There," he added as with a quick and sudden
turn of the wrist he knocked his opponent's weapon out of
his hand, " allow me to return you this most useful sword."
He had already stooped and picked up Stoutenburg's
sword, and now was holding it with slender finger tips
by the point of its blade, and smiling, urbane and mocking,
he held it out at arm's length, bowing the while with
courtly, ironical grace.

373

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

" Shall we call Jan, my lord," he said airily, " or one
of your friends to aid you ? Some of them I noticed just
now seemed somewhat in a hurry to quit this hospitable
molens, but mayhap one or two are still lingering behind."
Stoutenburg, blind with rage, had snatched his sword
back out of the scoffer's hand. He knew that the man was
only playing with him, only keeping him busy here to
prevent his going to Gilda. This thought threw him
into a frenzy of excitement and not heeding the other's
jeers he cried out at the top of his voice :
" Jan! Jan! Nicolaes ! What-ho ! "
And the other man putting his hand up to his mouth
also shouted lustily:
" Jan ! Nicolaes ! What ho "
Had Stoutenburg been less blind and deaf to aught save
to his own hatred and his own fury, he would have heard
not many paces away, the sound of horses' hoofs upon the
hard ground, the champing of bits, the jingle of harness.
But of this he did not think, not just yet. His thoughts
were only of Gilda, and that man was holding the door
of the hut because he meant to dispute with him the
possession of Gilda. He cast aside all sense of pride and
shame. He was no match with a foreign mercenary,
whose profession was that of arms; there was no dis-
grace in his want of skill. But he would not yield the
ground to this adventurer who meant to snatch Gilda
away from him. After all the man had a wounded
shoulder and a lacerated hip; with the aid of Jan and of
Nicolaes he could soon be rendered helpless.
New hope rose in the Lord of Stoutenburg's heart,
giving vigour to his arm. Now he heard the sound of
running footsteps behind him; Jan was coming to his
aid and there were others; Nicolaes, no doubt, and Heem-
skerk.
" My lord ! my lord ! " cried Jan, horrified at what he
saw. He had heard the clang of steel against steel and
had caught up the first sword that came to his hand. His
calls and those of Stoutenburg as well as the more lusty
ones of Diogenes reached the ears of Beresteyn, who with
his friend Heemskerk was making a final survey of the

374

THE FIGHT IN THE DOORWAY

molens, to search for compromising papers that might
have been left about. They too heard the cries and the
clash of steel; they ran down the steps of the molens,
only to meet Jan who was hurrying toward the hut with
all his might.
" I think my lord is being attacked," shouted Jan as
he flew past, " and the jongejuffrouw is still in the hut."
These last words dissipated Nicolaes Beresteyn's
sudden thoughts of cowardice. He too snatched up a
sword and followed by Heemskerk he ran in Jan's wake.
The stranger, so lately a prisoner condemned to hang,
was in the doorway of the hut, with his back to it, his
sword in his left hand keeping my Lord of Stoutenburg at
arm's length. Jan, Nicolaes and Heemskerk were on
him in a trice.
"Two, three, how many of you ? " queried Diogenes
with a laugh, as with smart riposte he met the three blades
which suddenly flashed out against him. " Ah, Mynheer
Beresteyn, my good Jan, I little thought that I would
see you again."
" Let me pass, man," cried Beresteyn, " I must to my
sister."
" Not yet, friend," he replied, " till I know what your
intentions are."
For one instant Beresteyn appeared to hesitate. The
kindly sentiment which had prompted him awhile ago
to speak sympathetic words to a condemned man who
had taken so much guilt upon his shoulders, still fought
in his heart against his hatred for the man himself. Since
that tragic moment at the foot of the gallows which had
softened his mood, Beresteyn had learnt that it was this
man who had betrayed him and his friends to the Stadt-
holder, and guessed that it was Gilda who had instigated
or bribed him into that betrayal. And now the present
position seemed to bring vividly before his mind the
picture of that afternoon in the " Lame Cow " at Haarlem,
when the knave whom he had paid to keep Gilda safely
out of the way was bargaining with his father to bring
her back to him.
All the hatred of the past few days--momentarily

375

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

lulled in the face of a tragedy-rose up once more with
renewed intensity in his heart. Here was the man who
had betrayed him, and who, triumphant, was about to
take Gilda back to Haarlem and receive a fortune for his
reward.
While Heemskerk, doubtful and hesitating, marvelled
if 'twere wise to take up Stoutenburg's private quarrels
rather than follow his other friends to Scheveningen where
safety lay, Jan and Beresteyn, vigorously aided by Stouten-
burg, made a concerted attack upon the knave.
But it seemed as easy for Bucephalus to deal with three
blades as with one : now it appeared to have three tongues
of pale grey flame that flashed hither and thither ;-back-
wards, forwards, left, right, above, below, parry, riposte,
an occasional thrust, and always quietly on guard.
Diogenes was in his gayest humour, laughing and shout-
ing with glee. To any one less blind with excitement
than were these men it would soon have been clear that
he was shouting for the sole purpose of making a noise,
a noise louder than the hammerings, the jinglings, the
knocking that was going on at the back of the hut.
To right and left of the front of the small building a
high wooden paling ran for a distance of an hundred
paces or so enclosing a rough yard with a shed in the rear.
It was impossible to see over the palings what was going
on behind them and so loudly did the philosopher shout
and laugh, and so vigorously did steel strike against steel
that it was equally impossible to perceive the sounds
that came from there.
But suddenly Stoutenburg was on the alert: some-
thing had caught his ear, a sound that rose above the
din that was going on in the doorway . . . a woman's
piercing shriek. Even the clang of steel could not drown
it, nor the lusty shouts of the fighting philosopher.
For a second he strained his ear to listen. It seemed
as if invisible hands were suddenly tearing down the
wooden palisade that hid the rear of the small building
from his view; before his mental vision a whole picture
rose to sight. A window at the back of the hut broken in,
Gilda carried away by the friends of this accursed

376

THE FIGHT IN THE DOORWAY

adventurer-Jan had said,that two came to his aid at the
foot of the gallows-Maria screaming, the sledge in wait,
the horses ready to start.
" My God, I had not thought of that," he cried, " Jan !
Nicolaes ! in Heaven's name ! Gilda ! After me !
quick ! "
And then he starts to run, skirting the palisade in the
direction whence come now quite distinctly that cease-
less rattle, that jingle and stamping of the ground which
proclaims the presence of horses on the point of departure.
" Jan, in Heaven's name, follow me !" cries Stoutenburg,
pausing one instant ere he rounds the corner of the palisade.
" Nicolaes, leave that abominable knave ! Gilda, I tell
you ! Gilda ! They are carrying her away ! "
Jan already has obeyed, grasping his sword he does not
pause to think. My lord has called and 'tis my lord whom
he follows. He runs after Stoutenburg as fast as his
tired limbs will allow. Heemskerk, forgetting his own
fears in the excitement of this hand-to-hand combat,
follows in their wake.
Nicolaes, too, at Stoutenburg's call, is ready to follow
him.
He turns to run when a grasp of iron falls upon his arm,
holding it like a vice. He could have screamed with the
pain, and the sword which he held falls out of his nerve-
less fingers. The next moment he feels himself dragged
by that same iron grasp through the open door into the
hut, and hears the door slammed to and locked behind
him.
" Your pardon if I have been rough, mynheer," said
Diogenes' pleasant voice, "but there was no time to
argue outside that door and you seemed in such a mighty
hurry to run straight into that yawning abyss of disgrace."
The grasp upon his arm had not relaxed, but it no
longer hurt. Yet it was so firm and so absolute that
Nicolaes felt powerless to wrench himself away.
" Let me go ! " he cried hoarsely.
"Not just yet, mynheer," rejoined Diogenes coolly,
"not while this hot temper is upon you. Let the Lord
of Stoutenburg and our friend Jan fight to their heart's

377

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

content with a fat philosopher who is well able to hold
his own against them, while the other who is lean and a
moderately good coachman sees that a pair of horses
do not rear and bolt during the fray."
" Let me go, man, I tell you," cried Beresteyn who was
making frantic efforts to free himself from that slender
white grapnel which held his arm as in a vice.
" One moment longer, mynheer, and you shall go. The
horses of which I speak are harnessed to a sledge wherein
is the jongejuffrouw your sister."
" Yes ! verdommte Keerl ! let me get to her or .. ."
"As soon as the fat philosopher has disposed of the
Lord of Stoutenburg and of Jan he too will jump into the
sledge and a minute later it will be speeding on its way
to Haarlem."
" And there will be three of us left here to hang you to
that same gallows on which you should have dangled
an hour ago," exclaimed Beresteyn savagely.
"Possibly," retorted Diogenes dryly, " but even so
your sister will be on the way to Haarlem rather than to
exile whither the Lord of Stoutenburg and you-her
brother-would drag her."
"And what is it to you, you abominable plepshurk,
whither I go with my sister and my friend ? "
" Only this, mynheer, that yesterday in this very room
I proclaimed myself a forger, a liar and a thief before the
jongejuffrouw in order that her love for her only brother
should not receive a mortal wound. At the moment
I did not greatly care for that lie," he added with his
wonted flippancy, " but time hath lent it enchantment :
It is on the whole one of the finest lies I. ever told in my
life; moreover it carried conviction; the jongejuffrouw
was deceived. Now I will not see that pet lie of mine
made fruitless by the abominable action which you have
in contemplation."
Beresteyn made no immediate reply. Easily swayed
as he always was by a character stronger than his own,
the words spoken by the man whom he had always
affected to despise, could not fail to move him. He knew
that that same abominable action of which he was being

378

THE FIGHT IN THE DOORWAY 379
accused had indeed been contemplated not only by Stout-
enburg but also by himself. It had only required one
word from Stoutenburg-" Gilda of course comes with
us "--one hint that her presence in Holland would be a
perpetual menace to his personal safety, and he had been
not only willing but fully prepared to put this final outrage
upon the woman whom he should have protected with
his life.
Therefore now he dared not meet the eager, questioning
glance of this adventurer, in whose merry eyes the look
of irrepressible laughter was momentary veiled by one of
anxiety. He looked around him restlessly, shiftily; his
wandering glance fell on the narrow inner door which stood
open, and he caught a glimpse of a smaller room beyond,
with a window at the further end of it. That window
had been broken in from without, the narrow frame torn
out of its socket and the mullion wrenched out of its
groove.
Through the wide breach thus made in the lath and
mud walls of the hut, Beresteyn suddenly saw the horses
and the sledge out there in the open. The fight of awhile
ago by the front door had now been transferred to this
spot. A short fat man with his back to the rear of the
sledge was holding the Lord of Stoutenburg and Heem-
skerk at a couple of arm's lengths with the point of his
sword. Jan was apparently not yet on the scene.
Another man, lean and tall, was on the box of the sledge,
trying with all his might to hold a pair of horses in, who,
frightened by the clang of steel against steel, by the
movement and the shouting, were threatening to plunge
and rear at any moment.
Diogenes laughed aloud.
" My friend Pythagoras seems somewhat hard pressed,"
he said, " and those horses might complicate the situation
at any moment. I must to them now, mynheer. Tell
me then quickly which you mean to do; behave like an
honest man or like a cur."
" What right have you to dictate to me ? " said Bere-
steyn sullenly. "I have no account to give to you of
mine own actions."

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

" None I admit," rejoined the philosopher placidly,
" but let me put the situation a little more clearly before
you. On the one hand you must own that I could at
this moment with very little trouble and hardly any
scruples render you physically helpless first, then lock
you up in this room, and go and join my friends outside.
On the other hand you could leave this room sound in
body and at heart an honest man, jump into the sledge
beside your sister and convey her yourself safely back
to the home from whence you-her own brother--should
never have allowed her to be taken."
"I cannot do it," retorted Beresteyn moodily, "I
could not meet my father face to face after what has
happened."
" Think you Gilda would tell him that his onlyson has
played the part of traitor ? "
" She loathes and despises me."
" She has a horror of that treacherous plot. But the
plot has come to naught; and she will consider that you
are punished enough for it already, and feel happy that
you are free from Stoutenburg's clutches."
"I cannot leave Stoutenburg now, and she must go
with him. She hates me for the outrage which was
committed against her."
" She does not know your share in it," said Diogenes
quickly, "have I not told you that I lied admirably.
She believes me to be the only culprit and to have forged
your name to hide mine own infamy."
A hot flush rose to Beresteyn's pale cheeks.
"I cannot bear to profit by your generosity," he said
dully.
" Pshaw man!" rejoined the other not without a
tone of bitterness, "what matters what my reputation
is in her sight ? She despises me so utterly already that
a few sins more or less cannot lower me further in her
sight."
" No ! no ! I cannot do it," persisted Beresteyn. " Go
to your friends, man," he added fiercely, " the fat one is
getting sorely pressed, the other cannot cope with the
horses much longer ! go to their aid ! and kill me if you

380

THE FIGHT IN THE DOORWAY

are so minded. Indeed I no longer care, and in any case
I could not survive all this shame."
"Die by all means when and where you list," said
Diogenes placidly, "but 'tis your place first of all to
take your sister now under your own protection, to keep
her in the knowledge that whatever sins you may have
committed you were at least true and loyal to herself.
By Heaven, man, hath she not suffered enough already
in her person, in her pride, above all in her affections ?
Your loyalty to her at this moment would be ample
compensation for all that she hath suffered. Be an
honest man and take her to her home."
" How can I ? I have no home: and she is a menace
to us all .. ."
"I am a menace to you, you weak-hearted craven,"
cried Diogenes whose moustache bristled with fury now,
" for by Heaven I swear that you shall not leave this
place with a whole skin save to do an honest man's act
of reparation."
And as if to give greater emphasis to his words
Diogenes gave the other man's arm a vigorous
wrench which caused Beresteyn to groan and curse with
pain.
"I may have to hurt you worse than this presently,"
said the philosopher imperturbably as he dragged Bere-
steyn--who by now felt dizzy and helpless--to the nearest
chair and deposited him there. "Were you not her
brother, I believe I should crack your obstinate skull;
as it is ... . I will leave you here to take counsel with
reason and honesty until I have finally disposed of my
Lord of Stoutenburg."
He ran quickly to the outer door, pushed the bolts
home, gave the key an extra turn and then pulled it
out of the lock and threw it out of the window. Bere-
steyn--somewhat stunned with emotion, a little faint
with that vigorous wrench on his arm, and prostrate with
the fatigue and excitement of the past two days-made no
attempt to stop him. No doubt he realized that any such
attempt would indeed be useless: there was so much
vitality, so much strength in the man that his tall stature

381

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

appeared to Nicolaes now of giant-like proportions, and
his powers to savour of the supernatural.
He watched him with dull, tired eyes, as he finally went
out of the room through the inner door; no doubt that
this too he locked behind him. Beresteyn did not know ;
he half lay, half sat in the chair like a log, the sound of the
fight outside, of the shouts that greeted Diogenes' arrival,
of the latter's merry laughter that went echoing through
the mist, only reached his dull perceptions like a far-off
dream.
But in his mind he saw it all : the walls of the hut were
transparent before his mental vision, he saw now the
unequal fight; a perfect swordsman against Stouten-
burg's unreasoning attacks and Heemskerk's want of
skill. Jan too will have joined them by now, but he
was loutish and clumsy. The issue would have been a
foregone conclusion even without the aid of the fat knave
who had held his own already for nearly ten minutes.
Yet, though his thoughts were not by any means all clear
upon the subject, Beresteyn made no attempt to go to
his own friend's assistance. Vaguely some pleasing
visions began to float through space around him. It
seemed as if the magic personality of a nameless adven-
turer still filled this narrow room with its vitality, with
its joy and with its laughter. The optimistic breeziness
which emanated from the man himself had lingered here
after he was gone. His cheerful words still hung and
reverberated upon the cold, wintry air.
" After all, why not ? " mused Beresteyn.
Gilda knew of his share in the conspiracy against the
Stadtholder of course. But that conspiracy had now
aborted; Gilda would never betray her brother's share
in it either to the Stadtholder's vengeance or to her
father's wrath.
And she had been made to believe that he was not the
mover in the outrage against her person.
" Then--why not ? "
She had been forcibly dragged out of this hut: she
knew that Stoutenburg meant to take her away with him
into exile; even if she had been only partially conscious

382

THE FIGHT IN THE DOORWAY

since she was taken to the sledge, she would know that
a desperate fight had been going on around her. Then
if he, Nicolaes, now appeared upon the scene-if he
took charge of her and of the sledge, and with the help
of one or other of those knaves outside sped away with
her north to Haarlem, would she not be confirmed in
her belief in his loyalty, would he not play a heroic r6le,
make her happy and himself free ?
" Then-why not ? "
All the papers relating to the aborted conspiracy which
might have compromised him he had upon his person
even now. He and Heemskerk had themselves collected
them in the weighing-room of the molens after Lucas of
Sparendam had brought his terrible news.
" Then-why not ? "
He rose briskly from his chair. The outer door of the
hut was locked-he crossed to the inner door. That was
just on the latch and he threw it open. Before him
now was the broken window frame through which peeped
the dull grey light of this misty winter's morning. Out
in the open through the filmy veil of the fog he could see
the final phases of an unequal fight. Stoutenburg and
Heemskerk were both disarmed and Jan had just appeared
upon the scene. More far-seeing than were the Lord of
Stoutenburg and Mynheer Heemskerk, he had very
quickly realized that sword in hand no one was a match
for this foreigner and his invincible blade. When the
fighting was transferred from the doorway of the hut
to the open roadway in the rear, he had at first followed
in the wake of his chief, then he had doubled back,
swiftly running to the molens, and in the basement from
out the scattered litter of arms hastily thrown down,
he had quickly picked up a couple of pistols, found some
ammunition, quietly loaded the weapons and with them
in his hand started to run back to the hut.
All this had taken some few minutes while Pythagoras
had borne the brunt of a vigorous attack from the Lord
of Stoutenburg and Mynheer Heemskerk, whilst Diogenes
parleyed with Beresteyn inside the hut.
Beresteyn saw the whole picture before him, He

383

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

had thrown open the door, and looked through the broken
window at the precise moment when the Lord of Stouten-
burg's sword flew out of his hand. Then it was that Jan
came running along, shouting to my lord. Stoutenburg
turned quickly, saw his faithful lieutenant and caught sight
of the pistols which he held. The next second he had
snatched one out of Jan's hand, and the pale ray of a
wintry sun penetrating through the mist found its re-
flection in a couple of steel barrels pointed straight at a
laughing philosopher.
Beresteyn from within felt indeed as if his heart stood
still for that one brief, palpitating second. Was Fate
after all taking the decision for the future--Gilda's and
his-out of his hands into her own ? Would a bullet end
that vigorous life and still that merry laugh and that
biting tongue for ever, and leave Nicolaes to be swayed
once more by the dark schemes and arbitrary will of his
friend Stoutenburg ?
Fate was ready, calmly spinning the threads of human
destinies. But there are some men in the world who have
the power and the skill to take their destinies in their own
hands. The philosopher and weaver of dreams, the merry
Laughing Cavalier was one of these.
What the Lord of Stoutenburg had seen that he per-
ceived equally quickly; he, too, had caught sight of Jan,
and of the two steel barrels simultaneously levelled at him ;
he, too, realized that the most skilled swordsman is but
a sorry match against a pair of bullets.
But while Beresteyn held his breath and Stoutenburg
tried to steady the trembling of his hand, he raised
Bucephalus above his head and with a wild shout pointed
toward the southern horizon far away.
" The Stadtholder's guard ! " he cried lustily, " they
are on us ! Sauve qui peut ! "
Three cries of mad terror rent the air, there was a
double detonation, a great deal of smoke. The horses
in the sledge reared and plunged wildly, forcing those
who were nearest to the vehicle to beat a precipitate
retreat.
" At the horses' heads, you wooden-headed bladder,"

384

THE FIGHT IN THE DOORWAY 385
shouted Diogenes lustily. Pythagoras did his best to
obey, while Socrates was nearly dragged off the box
by the frightened horses. Heemskerk had already in-
continently taken to his heels. Jan had dropped his
weapon which Diogenes at once picked up. The Lord
of Stoutenburg was preparing to fire again.
"Sauve qui peut, my lord !" cried Diogenes, "before
I change my mind and put a hole through your heel,
which will prevent your running away fast enough to
escape the Stadtholder's wrath."
There was another detonation. The horses reared
and plunged again. When Beresteyn once more obtained
a clear view of the picture, he saw the Lord of Stoutenburg
stretched out on his back upon the ground in a position
that was anything but dignified and certainly very
perilous, for Diogenes towering above him was holding
him by both feet. The tall soldierly figure of the foreigner
stood out clearly silhouetted against the grey, misty light ;
his head with its wealth of unruly brown curls was
thrown back with a gesture that almost suggested boyish
delight in some impish mischief, whilst his infectious
laugh echoed and re-echoed against the walls of the molens
and of the hut.
Jan was on his hands and knees crawling toward those
two men-the conqueror and the conquered-with no
doubt a vague idea that he might even now render assist-
ance to my lord.
"Here, Pythagoras, old fat head," cried Diogenes
gaily, "see that our friend here does not interfere with me:
and that he hath not a concealed poniard somewhere
about his person, then collect all pistols and swords that
are lying about, well out of harm's way. In the mean-
while what am I to do with his Magnificence? he is
kicking like a vicious colt and that shoulder of mine is
beginning to sting like fury."
" Kill me, man, kill me ! " cried Stoutenburg savagely,
" curse you, why don't you end this farce ? "
" Because, my lord," said Diogenes more seriously than
was his wont, " the purest and most exquisite woman
on God's earth did once deign to bestow the priceless
2B

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

jewel of her love upon you. Did she know of your present
plight, she would even now be pleading for you: there-
fore," he added more flippantly, "I am going to give
myself the satisfaction of making you a present of the
last miserable shred of existence which you will drag on
from this hour forth in wretchedness and exile to the end
of your days. Take your life and freedom, my lord,"
he continued in response to the invectives which Stouten-
burg muttered savagely under his breath, " take it at
the hands of the miserable plepshurk whom you so despise.
It is better methinks to do this rather than fall into the
hands of the Stadtholder, whose mercy for a fallen enemy
would be equal to your own."
Then he shouted to Pythagoras.
" Here, old compeer ! search his Magnificence for con-
cealed weapons, and then make ready to go. We have
wasted too much time already."
Despite Stoutenburg's struggles and curses Pythagoras
obeyed his brother philosopher to the letter. His lordship
and Jan were both effectually disarmed now. Then only
did Diogenes allow Stoutenburg to struggle to his feet.
He had his sword in his left hand and Pythagoras stood
beside him. Jan found his master's hat and cloak and
helped him on with them, and then he said quietly :
" The minutes are precious, my lord, 'tis a brief run to
Ryswyk : my Lord of Heemskerk has gone and Mynheer
Beresteyn has disappeared. Here we can do nothing
more."
" Nothing, my good Jan," said Diogenes more seriously,
" you are a brave soldier and a faithful servant. Take
his Magnificence away to safety. You have well deserved
your own.'"
Stoutenburg gave a last cry of rage and of despair.
For a moment it seemed as if his blind fury would still
conquer reason and prudence and that he meant once more
to make an attack upon his victorious enemy,but something
in the latter's look of almost insolent triumph recalled him
to the peril of his own situation: he passed his hand once
or twice over his brow, like a man who is dazed and only
just returning to consciousness, then he called loudly to

386

THE FIGHT IN THE DOORWAY

Jan to follow him, and walked rapidly away northwards
through the fog.
Beresteyn went up to the broken window and watched
him till he was out of sight, then he looked on Diogenes.
That philosopher also watched the retreating figure of
the Lord of Stoutenburg until the fog had swallowed it
up, then he turned to his friend.
"Pythagoras, old compeer," he said with a shrug of
his broad shoulders, " what would you take to be walking
at this moment in that man's shoes ? "
" I wouldn't do it, friend," rejoined Pythagoras placidly,
"for the possession of a running river of home-brewed
ale. And I am mightily dry at the present moment."
"Jump up then on the box beside Socrates, you old
winetub, and get to Leyden as quickly as these horses
will take you. A halt at Voorburg will refresh you all."
" But you ? " queried Socrates from his post of vantage.
" I shall make my way to Ryswyk first and get a horse
there. I shall follow you at a distance, and probably
overtake you before you get to Leyden. But you will
not see me after this . . . unless there is trouble, which
is not likely."
" But the jongejuffrouw ? " persisted Socrates.
"Hush ! I shall never really lose sight of you and the
sledge. But you must serve her as best you can. Some
one will be with her who will know how to take care of
her."
" Who ? "
"Her own brother of course, Mynheer Beresteyn.
Over the sill, mynheer!" he now shouted, calling to
Nicolaes, who still stood undecided, shamed, hesitating
in the broken framework of the window, "over the sill,
'tis only three feet from the ground, and horses and men
are quite ready for you."
He gave a lusty cheer of satisfaction as Beresteyn,
throwing all final cowardly hesitations to the wind,
suddenly made up his mind to take the one wise and
prudent course. He swung himself through the window,
and in a few moments was standing by Diogenes' side,
" Let me at least tell you, sir . . ." he began earnestly.

387

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

" Hush !--tell me nothing now . . ." broke in the other
man quickly, " the jongejuffrouw might hear."
"But I must thank you-"
" If you say another word," said Diogenes, sinking his
voice to a whisper, " I'll order Socrates to drive on and
leave you standing here."
" But. ."
"Into the sledge, man, in Heaven's name. The
jongejuffrouw is unconscious, her woman daft with
fear. When the lady regains consciousness let her
brother's face be the first sight to comfort her. Into
the sledge, man," he added impatiently, " or by Heaven
I'll give the order to start."
And without more ado, he hustled Nicolaes into the
sledge. The latter bewildered, really not clear with
himself as to what he ought to do, peeped tentatively
beneath the cover of the vehicle. He saw his sister
lying there prone upon the wooden floor of the sledge,
her head rested against a bundle of rugs hastily put
together for her comfort. Maria was squatting beside
her, her head and ears muffled in a cloak, her hands up
to her eyes; she was moaning incoherently to herself.
Gilda's eyes were closed, and her face looked very
pale: Beresteyn's heart ached at the pitiful sight. She
looked so wan and so forlorn that a sharp pang of remorse
for all his cruelty to her shot right through his dormant
sensibilities.
There was just room for him under the low cover of
the sledge; he hesitated no longer now, he felt indeed as
if nothing would tear him away from Gilda's side until
she was safely home again in their father's arms.
A peremptory order : " En avant," struck upon his ear, a
shout from the driver to his horses, the harness rattled,
the sledge creaked upon its framework and then slowly
began to move: Beresteyn lifted the flap of the hood at
the rear of the vehicle and looked out for the last time
upon the molens and the hut, where such a tragic act in
his life's drama had just been enacted.
He saw Diogenes still standing there, waving his hat
in farewell: for a few moments longer his splendid

388

THE FIGHT IN THE DOORWAY 389
figure stood out clearly against the flat grey landscape
beyond, then slowly the veil of mist began to envelop him,
at first only blurring the outline of his mantle or his sash,
then it grew more dense and the sledge moved away
more rapidly.
The next moment the Laughing Cavalier had dis-
appeared from view.

CHAPTER XLIIII

LEYDEN ONCE MORE

AFTER that Gilda had lived as in a dream: only vaguely
conscious that good horses and a smoothly gliding
vehicle were conveying her back to her home. Of this
fact she was sure because Nicolaes was sitting quite close
under the hood of the sledge and when first she became
fully aware of the reality of his presence, he had raised
her hand to his lips and had said in response to a mute
appeal from her eyes :
"We are going home."
After that a quiet sense of utter weariness pervaded her
being, and she fell into a troubled sleep. She did not
heed what went on around her, she only knew that once
or twice during the day there was a halt for food and
drink.
The nearness of her brother, his gentleness toward her,
gave her a sense of well-being, even though her heart felt
heavy with a great sorrow which made the whole
future appear before her like an interminable vista of
blank and grey dullness.
It was at her suggestion that arrangements were
made for an all night halt at Leyden, which city they
reached in the early part of the afternoon. She begged
Nicolaes that they might put up at the hostelry of the
"White Goat " on the further side of the town, and that
from thence a messenger might be sent to her father,
asking him to come and meet her there on the morrow.
Though Nicolaes was not a little astonished at this
suggestion of Gilda's--seeing that surely she must be
390

LEYDEN ONCE MORE 391
longing to be home again and that Haarlem could easily
have been reached before night--he did not wish to run
counter to her will. True enough, he dreaded the meeting
with his father, but he knew that it had to come, and felt
that whatever might be the future consequences of it all-
he could not possibly bear alone the burden of remorse and
of shame which assailed him every time he encountered
Gilda's tear-stained eyes, and saw how wearied and
listless she looked.
So he called a halt at the " White Goat " and as soon as
he saw his sister safely installed, with everything ordered
for her comfort and a tasteful supper prepared, lie sent a
messenger on horseback at once to Haarlem to his father.
Gilda had deliberately chosen to spend the night at
the hostelry of the " White Goat " because she felt that
in that quaint old building with its wide oak staircase--
over which she had been carried five days ago, dizzy and
half fainting--the blackened rafters would mayhap still
echo with the sound of a merry laughter which she would
never hear again.
But when the sledge finally turned in under the low
gateway and drew up in the small courtyard of the inn-
when with wearied feet and shaking knees she walked up
those oaken stairs, it seemed to her that the vivid memories
which the whole place recalled were far harder to bear
than those more intangible ones which-waking and
sleeping-had tortured her up to now.
The bedroom too, with the smaller one leading out of it,
was the same in which she had slept. As the obsequious
waiting-wench threw open the door for the noble jonge-
juffrouw to pass through she saw before her the wide
open hearth with its crackling fire, the high-backed chair
wherein she had sat, the very footstool which he had put
to her feet.
It seemed to her at first as if she could not enter, as if
his splendid figure would suddenly emerge out of the
semi-darkness to confront her with his mocking eyes
and his smiling face. She seemed to see him everywhere,
and she had to close her eyes to chase away that all too
insistent vision

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

The waiting-wench did not help matters either, for she
asked persistently and shyly about the handsome mynheer
who had such an irresistible fund of laughter in him.
Maria too, in her mutterings and grumblings, contrived-
most unwittingly, since she adored Gilda-to inflict a
series of tiny pin-pricks on an already suffering heart.
Tired in body and in mind, Gilda could not sleep that
night. She was living over again every second of the past
five days: the interview with that strangely winning
person- a stranger still to her then-here in this room I
how she had hated him at first ! lIow she had tried to shame
and wound him with her words, trying all the while to
steel her heart against that irresistible gaiety and good
humour which shone from him like a radiance: then
that second interview in Rotterdam ! Did she still hate him
then ? and if not when was hatred first changed into the
love which now so completely filled her soul ?
Looking back on those days, she could not tell. All
that she knew was that when he was brought before her
helpless and pinioned she already loved him, and that
since that moment love had grown and strengthened
until her whole heart was given to that same nameless
soldier of fortune whom she had first despised.
To live over again those few brief days which seemed now
like an eternity was a sweet, sad pleasure which Gilda
could endure, but what became intolerable in the darkness
and in the silence of the night was the remembrance of
the immediate past.
Clearly cut out before her mental vision were the
pictures of her life this morning in the hut beside the
molens; and indeed, it was a lifetime that had gone by
in those few hours.
Firstly Stoutenburg's visit in the early morning, his
smooth words and careless chatter! She, poor fool !
under the belief all the time that the treacherous plot
had been abandoned, and that she would forthwith be
conveyed back to her father. Her thoughts of pleading
for the condemned man's life then the tramping of
feet, the cries of terror, her brother's appearance bringing
the awful news of betrayal. She lived over again those

392

LEYDEN ONCE MORE

moments of supreme horror when she realized how
Stoutenburg had deceived her, and that Nicolaes himself
was but a traitor and a miserable liar.
She knew then that it was the adventurer, the penniless
soldier of fortune whom she had tried to hate and to
despise, who had quietly gone to warn the Stadtholder, and
that his action had been the direct working of God's will
in a brave and loyal soul: she knew also by a mysterious
intuition which no good woman has ever been able to
resist, that the man who had stood before her-self-
convicted and self-confessed-had accepted that humilia-
tion to save her the pain of fearing and despising her own
brother.
The visions now became more dim and blurred. She
remembered Stoutenburg's fury, his hideous threats of
vengeance on the man who had thrown himself across his
treacherous path. She remembered pleading to that
monster, weeping, clinging to his arm in a passionate
appeal. She remembered the soul agony which she felt
when she realized that that appeal had been in vain.
Then she had stood for a moment silent and alone in the
hut. Stoutenburg had left her in order to accomplish
that hideous act of revenge.
After that she remembered nothing clearly. She could
only have been half-conscious and all round her there
was a confusion of sounds, of shouts and clash of arms ;
she thought that she was being lifted out of the chair into
which she had fallen in a partial swoon, that she heard
Maria's cries of terror, and that she felt the cold damp
morning air striking upon her face.
Presently she knew that Nicolaes was beside her, and
that she was being taken home. All else was a blank or
a dream.
Now she was tossing restlessly upon the lavender-
scented bed in this hostelry so full of memories. Her
temples were throbbing, her eyes felt like pieces of glowing
charcoal in her head. The blackness around her weighed
upon her soul until she felt that she could not breathe.
Outside the silence of the night was being gravely
disturbed; there was the sound of horses' hoofs upon the

393

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

cobblestones of the yard, the creaking of a vehicle brought
to a standstill, the usual shouts for grooms and
ostlers. A late arrival had filled the tranquil inn with
its bustle and its noise.
Then once again all was still, and Gilda turned her
aching head upon the pillow. Though the room was not
hot, and the atmosphere outside heavy with frost, she
felt positively stifled.
After a while this feeling of oppression became intoler-
able, she rose, and in the darkness she groped for her
fur-lined cloak which she wrapped closely around her.
Then she found her way across to the window and drew
aside the curtain. No light penetrated through the
latticed panes ; the waning moon which four nights ago had
been at times so marvellously brilliant, had not yet risen
above the horizon line. As Gilda's fingers fumbled for
the window-latch she heard a distant church clock strike
the midnight hour.
She threw open the casement. The sill was low and she
leaned out peering up and down the narrow street. It
was entirely deserted and pitch dark save where on the
wall opposite the light from a window immediately below
her threw its feeble reflection. Vaguely she wondered
who was astir in the small hostelry. No doubt it was the
tap-room which was there below her, still lighted up, and
apparently with its small casement also thrown open, like
the one out of which she was leaning.
For now, when the reverberating echo of the chiming
clock had entirely died away, she was conscious of a vague
murmur of voices coming up from below, confused at
first and undistinguishable, but presently she heard a
click as if the casement had been pushed further open or
mayhap a curtain pulled aside, for after that the sound
of the voices became more distinct and clear.
With beating heart and straining ears Gilda leaned
as far out of the window as she could, listening intently:
she had recognized her father's voice, and he was speaking
so strangely that even as she listened she felt all the blood
tingling in her veins.
" My son, sir," he was saying, " had, I am glad to say,

394

LEYDEN ONCE MORE

sufficient pride and manhood in him not to bear the full
weight of your generosity any longer. He sent a special
messenger on horseback out to me this afternoon. As
soon as I knew that my daughter was here I came as fast
as a sleigh and the three best horses in my stables could
bring me. I had no thought, of course, of seeing you
here."
"I had no thought that you should see me, sir," said
a voice which by its vibrating tones had the power of
sending the hot blood rushing to the listener's neck and
cheeks. " Had I not entered the yard just as your sledge
turned in under the gateway, you had not been offended
by mine unworthy presence."
"I would in that case have searched the length and
breadth of this land to find you, sir," rejoined Cornelius
Beresteyn earnestly, " for half an hour later my son had
told me the whole circumstances of his association with
you."
" An association of which Mynheer Nicolaes will never
be over-proud, I'll warrant," came in slightly less flippant
accents than usual from the foreigner. " Do I not stand
self-confessed as a liar, a forger and abductor of helpless
women ? A fine record forsooth: and ere he ordered
me to be hanged my Lord of Stoutenburg did loudly
proclaim me as such before his friends and before his
followers."
" His friends, sir, are the sons of my friends. I will
loudly proclaim you what you truly are: a brave man, a
loyal soldier, a noble gentleman ! Nicolaes has told me
every phase of his association with you, from his shame-
ful proposal to you in regard to his own sister, down to
this moment when you still desired that Gilda and I should
remain in ignorance of his guilt."
" What is the good, mynheer, of raking up all this
past ? " said the philosopher lightly, "I would that
Mynheer Nicolaes had known how to hold his tongue."
"Thank God that he did not," retorted Cornelius
Beresteyn hotly, " had he done so I stood in peril of
failing-for the first time in my life--in an important
business obligation."

395

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

" Not towards me, mynheer, at any rate."
" Yes, sir, towards you," affirmed Beresteyn decisively.
" I promised you five hundred thousand guilders if you
brought my daughter safely back to me. I know from
mine own son, sir, that I owe her safety to no one but to
you."
" Ours was an ignoble bargain, mynheer," said Diogenes
with his wonted gaiety, and though she could not see him,
Gilda could picture his face now alive with merriment and
suppressed laughter. "The humour of the situation
appealed to me--it proved irresistible--but the bargain in
no way binds you seeing that it was I who had been impious
enough to lay hands upon your daughter."
"At my son's suggestion I know," rejoined Beresteyn
quietly, " and from your subsequent acts, sir, I must infer
that you only did it because you felt that she was safer
under your charge than at the mercy of her own brother
and his friends ... Nay! do not protest," he added
earnestly, " Nicolaes, as you see, is of the same opinion."
" May Heaven reward you, sir, for that kindly thought
of me," said Diogenes more seriously, " it will cheer me in
the future, when I and all my doings will have faded from
your ken."
" You are not leaving Holland, sir ? "
"Not just now, mynheer, while there is so much
fighting to be done. The Stadtholder hath need of
soldiers . . ."
" And he will, sir, find none better than you throughout
the world. And with a goodly fortune to help you .. ."
" Speak not of that, mynheer," he said firmly, " I could
not take your money. If I did I should never know a
happy hour again."
" Oh !"
" I am quite serious, sir, though indeed you might not
think that I can ever be serious. For six days now I
have had a paymaster: Mynheer Nicolaes' money has
burned a hole in my good humour, it has scorched my
hands, wounded my shoulder and lacerated my hip, it
has brought on me all the unpleasant sensations which
I have so carefully avoided hitherto, remorse, humiliation,

396

LEYDEN ONCE MORE 397
and one or two other sensations which will never leave
me until my death. It changed temporarily the shiftless,
penniless soldier of fortune into a responsible human
being, with obligations and duties. I had to order
horses, bespeak lodgings, keep accounts. Ye gods, it
made a slave of me 1 Keep your money, sir, it is more
fit for you to handle than for me. Let me go back to
my shiftlessness, my penury, my freedom, eat my fill
to-day, starve to-morrow, and one day look up at the
stars from the lowly earth, with a kindly bullet in my chest
that does not mean to blunder. And if in the days to come
your thoughts ever do revert to me, I pray you think
of me as happy or nearly so, owning no master save my
whim, bending my back to none, keeping my hat on my
head when I choose, and ending my days in a ditch or in
a palace, the carver of mine own destiny, the sole arbiter
of my will. And now I pray you seek that rest of which
you must be sorely in need. I start at daybreak to-
morrow: mayhap we shall never meet again, save in
Heaven, if indeed, there be room there for such a thriftless
adventurer as I."
" But whither do you mean to go, sir ? "
" To the mountains of the moon, sir," rejoined the philo-
sopher lightly, " or along the milky way to the land of
the Might-Have-Been."
" Before we part, sir, may I shake you by the hand ? "
There was silence down below after that. Gilda
listened in vain, no further words reached her ears just
then. She tiptoed as quietly as she could across the
room, finding her way with difficulty in the dark. At
last her fumbling fingers encountered the latch of the
door of the inner room where Maria lay snoring lustily.
It took Gilda some little time to wake the old woman,
but at last she succeeded, and then ordered her very
peremptorily, to strike a light.
"Are you ill, mejuffrouw ? " queried Maria anxiously,
even though she was but half awake.
"No," replied Gilda curtly, " but I want my dress--
quick now," she added, for Maria showed signs of desiring
to protest.

398 THE LAUGHING CAVALIER
The jongejuffrouw was in one of those former imperious
moods of hers when she exacted implicit obedience from
her servants. Alas ! the last few days had seen that mood
submerged into an ocean of sorrow and humiliation, and
Maria-though angered at having been wakened out of
a first sleep-was very glad to see her darling looking so
alert and so brisk.
Indeed-the light being very dim--Maria could not
see the brilliant glow that lit up the jongejuffrouw's
cheeks as with somewhat febrile gestures she put on her
dress and smoothed her hair.
" Now put on your dress too, Maria," she said when she
was ready, " and tell my father, who is either in the tap-
room down below or hath already retired to his room, that
I desire to speak with him."
And Maria, bewildered and flustered, had no option but
to obey.

CHAPTER XLIV

BLAKE OF BLAKENEY

WHILE Maria completed a hasty toilet, Gilda's instinct
had drawn her back once more to the open window.
The light from the room below was still reflected on the
opposite wall, and from the tap-room the buzz of voices
had not altogether ceased.
Cornelius Beresteyn was speaking now:
" Indeed," he said, " it will be the one consolation left
to me, since you do reject my friendship, sir."
"Not your friendship, sir-only your money," inter-
posed Diogenes.
" Well! you do speak of lifelong parting. But your
two friends have indeed deserved well of me. Without
their help no doubt you, sir, first and then my dearly
loved daughter would have fallen victims to that infamous
Stoutenburg. Will a present of twenty thousand guilders
each gratify them, do you think ? "
A ringing laugh roused the echoes of the sleeping
hostelry.
"Twenty thousand guilders! ye gods!" exclaimed
Diogenes merrily. " Pythagoras, dost hear, old bladder-
face ? Socrates, my robin, dost realize it ? Twenty
thousand guilders each in your pockets, old compeers.
Lord ! how drunk you will both be to-morrow."
Out of the confused hubbub that ensued Gilda could
disentangle nothing definite; there was a good deal of
shouting and clapping of pewter mugs against a table,
and through it all that irresponsible, infectious laughter
which-strangely enough-had to Gilda's ears at this
399

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

moment a curious tone, almost of bitterness, as if its
merriment was only forced.
Then when the outburst of gaiety had somewhat
subsided she once more heard her father's voice. Maria
was dressed by this time, and now at a word from Gilda
was ready to go downstairs and to deliver the jonge-
juffrouw's message to her father.
" You spoke so lightly just now, sir, of dying in a ditch
or palace," Cornelius Beresteyn was saying, " but you did
tell me that day in Haarlem that you had kith and kindred
in England. Where is that father of whom you spoke,
and your mother who is a saint ? Your irresponsible
vagabondage will leave her in perpetual loneliness."
"My mother is dead, sir," said Diogenes quietly,
" my father broke her heart."
" Even then he hath a right to know that his son is a
brave and loyal gentleman."
" He will only know that when his son is dead."
" That was a cruel dictum, sir."
" Not so cruel as that which left my mother to starve
in the streets of Haarlem."
" Aye ! ten thousand times more cruel, since your dear
mother, sir, had not to bear the awful burden of lifelong
remorse."
" Bah ! " rejoined the philosopher with a careless shrug
of the shoulders, " a man seldom feels remorse for wrongs
committed against a woman."
"But he doth for those committed against his flesh
and blood-his son---"
" I have no means of finding out, sir, if my father hath
or hath not remorse for his wilful desertion of wife and
child--England is a far-off country--I would not care to
undertake so unprofitable a pilgrimage."
" Then why not let me do so, sir ? " queried Cornelius
Beresteyn calmly.
" You ? "
" Yes. Why not ? "
" Why should you trouble, mynheer, to seek out the
father of such a vagabond as I ? "
' Because I would like to give a man----an old man your

400

BLAKE OF BLAKENEY

father must be now-the happiness of calling you his
son. You say he lives in England. I often go to England
on business. Will you not at least tell me your father's
name ? "
"I have no cause to conceal it, mynheer," rejoined
Diogenes carelessly. " In England they call him Blake
of Blakeney; his home is in Sussex and I believe that
it is a stately home."
"But I know the Squire of Blakeney well," said
Cornelius Beresteyn eagerly, " my bankers at Amsterdam
also do business for him. I know that just now he is in
Antwerp on a mission from King James of England
to the Archduchess. He hath oft told Mynheer Beuselaar,
our mutual banker, that he was moving heaven and
earth to find the son whom he had lost."
"Heaven and earth take a good deal of moving,"
quoth Diogenes lightly, " once a wife and son have been
forsaken and left to starve in a foreign land. Mine
English father wedded my mother in the church of St.
Pieter at Haarlem. My friend Frans Hals-God bless
him-knew my mother and cared for me after she died.
He has all the papers in his charge relating to the marriage.
It hag long ago been arranged between us that if I die
with ordinary worthiness, he will seek out my father
in England and tell him that mayhap-after all--even
though I have been a vagabond all my life-I have never
done anything that should cause him to blush for his
son."
Apparently, at this juncture, Maria must have knocked
at the door of the tapperij, for Gilda, whose heart was
beating more furiously than ever, heard presently the
well-known firm footsteps of her father as he rapidly
ascended the stairs.
Two minutes later Gilda lay against her father's heart,
and her hand resting in his she told him from beginning
to end everything that she had suffered from the moment
when after watch-night service in the Groote Kerk she
first became aware of the murmur of voices, to that when
she first realized that the man whom she should have
hated, the knave whom she should have despised, filled
2C

401O

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

her heart and soul to the exclusion of all other happiness
in the world, and that he was about to pass out of her
life for ever.
It took a long time to tell-for she had suffered more,
felt more, lived more in the past five days than would fill
an ordinary life-nor did she disguise anything from her
father, not even the conversation which she had had at
Rotterdam in the dead of night with the man who had
remained nameless until now, and in consequence of
which he had gone at once to warn the Stadtholder and
had thus averted the hideous conspiracy which would
have darkened for ever the destinies of many Dutch
homes.
Of Nicolaes she did not speak; she knew that he had
confessed his guilt to his father, who would know how to
forgive in the fulness of time.
When she had finished speaking her father said some-
what roughly:
" But for that vervloekte adventurer down there,
you would never have suffered, Gilda, as you did. Nico-
laes . . ."
" Nicolaes, father dear," she broke in quietly, "is
very dear to us both. I think that his momentary weak-
ness will endear him to us even more. But he was a tool
in the hands of that unscrupulous Stoutenburg-and
but for that nameless and penniless soldier whose hand
you were proud to grasp just now, I would not be here
in your arms at this moment."
"Ah!" said Cornelius Beresteyn dryly, " is this the
way that the wind blows, my girl ? Did you not know
then that the rascal-the day after he dared to lay hands
upon you-was back again in Haarlem bargaining with
me to restore you to my arms in exchange for a fortune."
" And two days later, father dear," she retorted, "he
endured insults, injuries, cruelties from Stoutenburg,
rather than betray Nicolaes' guilt before me."
" Hm ! " murmured Cornelius, and there was a humor-
ous twinkle in his eyes as he looked down upon his
daughter's bowed head.
" And but for that same rascal, father," she continued

402

BLAKE OF BLAKENEY

softly, "you would at this moment be mourning a dead
daughter and Holland a hideous act of treachery."
" Hush, my dear!" cried the old man impulsively,
as he put his kind, protecting arms round the child whom
he loved so dearly.
" I would never have followed the Lord of Stoutenburg
while I lived," she said simply.
" Please God," he said earnestly, " I would sooner have
seen you in the crypt beside your mother."
" Then, father, hath not the rascal you speak of deserved
well of us ? Can we not guess that even originally he
took me away from Haarlem, only because he knew that
if he refused the bargain proposed to him by mine own
brother, Stoutenburg would have found some other means
of ensuring my silence."
" You are a good advocate, my girl," rejoined Cornelius
with a sly wink which brought the colour rushing up to
Gilda's cheeks. " I think, by your leave, I'll go and shake
that vervloekte Keerl once more by the hand . . . And
. . shall I tell him that you bear him no ill-will ? "
he added roguishly.
" Yes, father dear, tell him that," she said gently.
"Then will you go to bed, dear ? " he asked, "you
are overwrought and tired."
" I will sit by the window quietly for a quarter of an
hour," she said, " after that I promise you that I will go
peaceably to bed."
He kissed her tenderly, for she was very dear to him,
but being a man of vast understanding and profound
knowledge of men and things, the humorous twinkle did
not altogether fade from his eyes as he finally bade his
daughter " Good-night," and then quietly went out of the
room.

403

CHAPTER XLV

THE END

DIOGENES sat beside the window in the tapperij listening
with half an ear to the sounds in and about the hostelry
which were dying out one by one. At first there had been
a footfall in the room overhead which had seemed to him
the sweetest music that man could hear. It had paced
somewhat restlessly up and down and to the Laughing
Cavalier, the gay and irresponsible soldier of fortune, it
had seemed as if every creaking of a loose board beneath
the featherweight of that footfall found its echo in his
heart.
But anon Mynheer Cornelius Beresteyn was called
away and then all was still in the room upstairs, and
Diogenes burying his head in his hands evoked the picture
of that room as he had seen it five days ago. The proud
jongejuffrouw in her high-backed chair, looking on him
with blue eyes which she vainly tried to render hard
through their exquisite expression of appealing, childlike
gentleness : and he groaned aloud with the misery of the
inevitable which with stern finger bade him go and leave
behind him all the illusions, all the dreams which he had
dared to weave.
Had she not told him that she despised him, that his
existence was as naught to her, that she looked on him as a
menial and a knave, somewhat below the faithful hench-
men who were in her father's service ? Ye gods ! he had
endured much in his life of privations, of physical and
mental pain, but was there aught on earth or in the outer-
most pits of hell to be compared with the agony of this
ending to a dream.
404

The serving-wench came in just then. She scarcely
dared approach the mynheer with the merry voice and
the laughter-filled eyes who now looked so inexpressibly
sad.
Yet she had a message for him. Mynheer Cornelius
Beresteyn, she said, desired to speak with him once more.
The wench had murmured the words shyly, for her heart
was aching for the handsome soldier and the tears were
very near her eyes. But hearing the message he had
jumped up with alacrity and was immediately ready to
follow her.
Mynheer Beresteyn had a room on the upper floor,
she explained, as she led the way upstairs. The old man
was standing on the narrow landing and as soon as Diogenes
appeared upon the stairs, he said simply:
"There was something I did forget to say to you
downstairs; may I trouble you, sir, to come into my room
for a moment."
He threw open one of the doors that gave on the landing
and politely stood aside that his visitor might pass through.
Diogenes entered the room: he heard the door being
closed behind him, and thought that Mynheer Beresteyn
had followed him in.
The room was very dimly lighted by a couple of tallow
candles that flickered in their sconces, and at first he
could not see into the dark recesses of the room. But
presently something moved, something ethereal and
intangible, white and exquisite. It stirred from out the
depths of the huge high-backed chair, and from out the
gloom there came a little cry of surprise and of joy which
was as the call of bird or angel.
He did not dare to move, he scarcely dared to breathe.
He looked round for Mynheer Beresteyn who had dis-
appeared.
Surely this could be only a dream. Nothing real on
earth could be so exquisite as that subtle vision which he
had of her now, sitting in the high-backed chair, leaning
slightly forward toward him. Gradually his eyes became
accustomed to the gloom : he could see her quite distinctly
now, her fair curls round her perfect head, her red lips

THE END

405

THE LAUGHING CAVALIER

parted, her eyes fixed upon him with a look which he
dared not interpret.
All around him was the silence and the darkness of
the night, and he was alone with her just as he had been
in this very room five days ago and then again at Rotter-
dam.
"St. Bavon, you rogue ! " he murmured, " where are
you ? How dare you leave me in the lurch like this."
Then-how it all happened he could not himself have
told you-he suddenly found himself at her feet, kneeling
beside the high-backed chair; his arms were round her
shoulders and he could feel the exquisite perfume of her
breath upon his cheek.
" St. Bavon," he cried exultingly to himself, " go away,
you rogue ! there's no need for your admonitions now."
Mynheer Beresteyn tiptoed quietly into the room. The
roguish smile still played around his lips. He came up
close to the high-backed chair and placed his hand upon his
daughter's head.
Diogenes looked up, and met the kindly eyes of the
old man fixed with calm earnestness upon him.
" Mynheer," he said, and laughter which contained a
world of happiness as well as of joy danced and sparkled
in every line of his face, " just now I refused one half of
your fortune ! But 'tis your greatest treasure I claim
from you now."
"Nay ! you rascal," rejoined Beresteyn, as he lifted
his daughter's chin gently with one finger and looked
into her deep blue eyes which were brimful of happiness,
"methinks that that treasure is yours already!"
" Go back, good St. Bavon," cried the Laughing Cavalier
in an ecstacy of joy, " your heaven-you rogue-is not
more perfect than this."

London Hoddr and Stoughton 1914

406

By the same Author.

ELDORADO

A Story of the Scarlet Pimpernel. Cloth. Price 6/-

"Sir Percy Blakeney at his delightful best."-
Punch.

"A capital story and one that will sustain the
position of its author in the popular regard."-Daily
Telegraph.

"A web of adventures of exciting and breathless
Interest. . .. Imagination is given full play, and not
until the final issue have we even a suspicion of what
will arise next."-Daily Chronicle.

"There is a fine spirit of adventure in the book,
and Sir Percy effects his miracles just as deftly as of
old."-Daily Mail.

"Good, vigorous romance."-Daily News.

"Fully equal to its exciting predecessors. In one
sense, indeed, it surpasses them, for not even the
'Scarlet Pimpernel' was ever in such a tlght place as
he tinds himself during the course of this story ....
It is a splendid, stirring romance of adventure."--Globe.

"Sir Percy Blakeney is as debonair, as gay and
careless, and as adventurous as ever."--Daily Express.

"Told with its author's accustomed brilliancy of
dramatic invention."--Scotsman.

"The 'Scarlet Pimpernel' is indefatigable. He
appears again at his old tricks in 'Eldorado.' Baroness
Orczy's hand loses none of Its cunning in depicting
daring escapes, fearful perils. . ... A very exciting
story." - Truth.

LONDON: HODDER AND STOUGHTON.

By the same Author.

UNTO CIESAR

Cloth. Price 6/-

"Baroness Orczy's book ranks next to 'The Last
Days of Pompeii' as a romance of the early Roman
Empire. 'UNTO CAiSAR' is in every way a finer
work than 'Quo Vadis.' "-British Weekly.

" Full of movement, sympathy, and pictorial effect,
a novel that carries us away in spite of ourselves.-
Morning Post.

"One of the cleverest pictures written of Roman
history.-Daily Graphic.

"The author has handled this difficult subject with
remarkable skill and directness."-Pall Mall Gazette.

"The fascinating atmosphere of ancient Rome is
well achieved in 'UNTO CAESAR" . . . . The story
is told with all the wealth of detail, the vivid pictorial
display and emotional colour for which its author has
long been distinguished."-Daily Chronicle.

"Very admirably she has reproduced the spirit of
luxurious, degenerate Rome. . . . 'UNTO CAESAR'
is from first to last excellent, and the ddnouement is
not the least pleasing feature of a fascinating book."
Dundee Advertiser.

"A worthy successor to ' The Scarlet Pimpernel '."
-Christian World.

"The Baroness has scored another big success.
This story of love and persecution in early days at
Rome is up to her best work, and strong thrilling
scenes follow each other in rapid succession."-Church
Family Newspaper.

LONDON : HODDER AND STOUGHTON.

This book is a preservation facsimile produced for
the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign.
It is made in compliance with copyright law
and produced on acid-free archival
60# book weight paper
which meets the requirements of
ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (permanence of paper).

Preservation facsimile printing and binding
by
Northern Micrographics
Brookhaven Bindery
La Crosse, Wisconsin
2012