CHAPTER VIII
THE LODGINGS WHICH WERE PAID FOR
And once again Chance set to with a will and forged yet another link inthat mighty chain which she had in hand.
For was it not in the natural course of things that the threephilosophers, weary and thirsty as they were, should go and seek solaceand material comfort under the pleasing roof of the "Lame Cow"--which asI remarked before was reputed one of the best conducted hostelries inHaarlem, and possessing a cellar full of wines and ales which had notits equal even in Amsterdam.
And was it not equally natural since the Lord of Stoutenburg lodged notfar from that self-same hostelry--again I repeat one of the soberest inHaarlem--that his friends should choose to join him in the tap-roomthere ere parting from one another on this eventful night.
Stoutenburg and his family were but little known in these parts and thehue and cry after the escaped traitor had somewhat abated these fewmonths past: moreover he was well disguised with beard and cloak and hekept a broad-brimmed hat pulled well down over his brow. On watch-nighttoo, the burghers and their vrouws as well as the civic and militarydignitaries of the town had plenty to do to think on their own enjoymentand the entertainment of their friends: they certes were not on thelook-out for conspiracies and dangerous enemies within their gates.
Stoutenburg had sat well screened from general observation within a darkrecess of the monumental fireplace. Nicolaes Beresteyn, the mostintimate of all his friends, sat close to him, but neither of themspoke much. Beresteyn was exceptionally moody; he appeared absorbed inthought and hardly gave answer to those who attempted to draw him intoconversation. Stoutenburg, on the other hand affected a kind of grimhumour, and made repeated allusions to scaffold or gallows as if he hadalready wholly resigned himself to an inevitable fate.
The others sipped their mulled wine and tried to cheat themselves out ofthe burning anxiety which Jongejuffrouw Beresteyn's presence in thecathedral had awakened in their hearts. They had made great efforts notto seem pre-occupied and to be outwardly at least as gay as any of theother watch-night revellers in the room.
But with their thoughts fixed upon that vision of awhile ago--a womanappearing before them within twenty paces of the spot where death to theStadtholder had just been loudly proclaimed amongst them--with thatvision fixed upon their minds, they found light conversation andordinary manner very difficult to keep up.
The peroration of the young adventurer had proved a welcome diversion:it had immediately aroused Stoutenburg's interest. He it was who firstdrew Beresteyn's attention to it, and he again who checked the angrywords which more than once rose to his friend's lips at the insolentattitude affected by the knave.
And now when the latter finally swaggered out of the room it wasStoutenburg who made a sign to Beresteyn and then immediately rose togo.
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 tofall in large sparse flakes that lay thick and glistening where theyfell. At the end of the Kleine Hout Straat where the two men presentlyfound themselves, the feeble light of a street lamp glimmered throughthis white fluttering veil: with its help the group of foreignmercenaries could be dimly seen in the distance as they took leave ofone another.
The tall form of Diogenes, crowned with his plumed hat, was easilydistinguishable amongst them. He with his two special friends, fatPythagoras and lean Socrates, remained standing for a few moments at thecorner of the street after the others had departed: then only did thethree of them turn and walk off in the direction of the Oude Gracht.
For some reason, as unexplainable as that which had guided their conductat the "Lame Cow," Beresteyn and Stoutenburg, quite unconscious of thecold, elected to follow.
Was it not Chance that willed it so? Chance who was busy forging a chainand who had need of these two men's extraordinary interest in a namelessadventurer in order to make the links of that chain fit as neatly as shedesired.
At the bottom of the Kleine Hout Straat, where it abuts on the OudeGracht, the three philosophers had again paused, obviously this time inorder to take leave of one another. The houses here were of a peculiarlywoe-begone appearance, with tiny windows which could not possibly haveallowed either air or light to penetrate within, and doors that wereleft ajar and were creaking on their hinges, showing occasional glimpsesof dark unventilated passages beyond and of drifts of snow heaped upagainst the skirting of the worm-eaten, broken-down wooden floors. Theywere 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-lookingshops, from which fetid odours emanated through the chinks and cracks ofthe walls. The upper rooms were let out as night-lodgings to those whowere too poor to afford better quarters.
Diogenes with all his swagger and his airs of an out-at-elbows gentlemanevidently was one of those, for he was now seen standing on thethreshold of one of these dilapidated houses and his two friends werefinally bidding him good-night.
By tacit consent Beresteyn and Stoutenburg drew back further into theshadow of the houses opposite. There appeared to be some understandingbetween these two men, an understanding anent a matter of supremelygrave import, which caused them to stand here on the watch with feetburied in the snow that lay thick in the doorways, silently taking noteof every word spoken and of every act that occurred on the other side ofthis evil-smelling street.
There seemed to be no need for speech between them; for the nonce eachknew that the other's thoughts were running in the same groove as hisown; and momentarily these thoughts were centred into a desire toascertain definitely if it was the tallest and youngest of those threeknaves over there who lodged in that particular house.
It was only when the fat man and the lean one had finally turned awayand left their comrade on the doorstep that the watchers appearedsatisfied and nodding silently to one another made ready to go home.They had turned their steps once more toward the more salubrious andelegant quarter of the city, and had gone but a few steps in thatdirection when something occurred behind them which arrested theirattention and caused them to look back once more.
The Something was a woman's cry, pitiful in the extreme: not an unusualsound in the streets of a prosperous city surely, and one which underordinary circumstances would certainly not have aroused Stoutenburg's orBeresteyn's interest. But the circumstances were not ordinary; the crycame from the very spot where the two men had last seen the youngstranger standing in the doorway of his lodgings and the appeal wasobviously directed toward him.
"Kind sir," the woman was saying in a quavering voice, "half a guilder Ientreat you for the love of Christ."
"Half a guilder, my good woman," Diogenes said in response, "'Tis afortune to such as I. I have not a kreutzer left in my wallet, 'pon myhonour!"
Whereupon the two men who watched this scene from the opposite side ofthe street saw that the woman fell on her knees, and that beside herthere stood an old man who made ready to follow her example.
"It's no use wearing out your stockings on this snow-covered ground, mygood girl," said Diogenes good-humouredly. "All the kneeling in theworld will not put half a guilder into my pocket nor apparently intoyours."
"And father and I must sleep under the canal bridge and it is sobitterly cold," the woman moaned more feebly.
"Distinctly an uncomfortable place whereat to spend a night," rejoinedthe philosopher, "I have slept there myself before now, so I know."
Seemingly he made an attempt to turn incontinently on his heel, for thewoman put out her hands and held on to his cloak.
"Father is crippled with ague, kind sir, he will die if he sleeps outthere to-night," she cried.
"I am afraid he will," said Diogenes blandly.
In the meanwhile, Pythagoras and Socrates, who evidently had not gonevery far, returned in order to see what was going on, on their friend'sdoor
step. 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 thisevening from that awful, howling mob. My father and I were able to go tomidnight 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 todie from cold and hunger under the bridge of the canal."
All of which was not incomprehensible to the two men on the watch whohad heard a graphic account of the affray in Dam Straat as it was toldby Pythagoras in the tap-room of the "Lame Cow." And they both drew alittle nearer so as not to lose a word of the scene which they werewatching with ever growing interest. Neither of them attempted tointerfere in it, however, though Beresteyn at any rate could have pouredmany a guilder in the hands of those two starving wretches, withoutbeing any the poorer himself and though he was in truth not ahard-hearted man.
"The wench is right," now said Diogenes firmly, "the life which wehelped to save, we must not allow to be frittered away. I talkedof stockings, girl," he added lightly, "but I see thy feet arebare.... 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 notone 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 roomin this very house which has been paid for three nights in advance. Goto it, wench, 'tis at the very top of the stairs, crawl thither as fastas thou canst, dragging thy ramshackle parent in thy wake. What hothere!" he shouted at the top of his ringing voice, "what ho my worthylandlord! What ho!"
And with his powerful fists he began pounding against the panels of thedoor which swung loosely under the heavy blows.
Stoutenburg and Beresteyn drew yet a little nearer: they were moredeeply interested than ever in all that was going on outside thissqualid lodging house.
The three philosophers were making a sufficiency of noise to wake halfthe street and within a very few minutes they succeeded in theirpurpose. Through one or two of the narrow frames overhead heads appearedenveloped in shawls or cloaks, and anon the landlord of the house cameshuffling down the passage, carrying a lighted, guttering taper.
The two silent watchers could not see this man, but they could hear himgrumbling and scolding audibly in short jerky sentences which heappeared to throw somewhat tentatively at his rowdy lodger.
"Late hour of the night," they heard him muttering. "New Year'smorning.... Respectable house ... noise to attract the town guard...."
"Hadst thou turned out of thy bed sooner, O well-beloved lord of thisabode of peace," said Diogenes cheerily, "there would have been lessnoise outside its portals. Had I not loved thee as I do, I would nothave wakened thee from thy sleep, but would have acted in accordancewith my rights and without bringing to thy ken a matter which wouldvastly have astonished thee in the morning."
The man continued to mutter, more impatiently this time:
"New Year's morning ... respectable citizen ... work to do in themorning ... undesirable lodgers...."
"All lodgers are desirable who pay for their lodging, O wise landlord,"continued Diogenes imperturbably, "I have paid thee for mine, for threenights from this day and I herewith desire thee to place my palatialresidence at the disposal of this jongejuffrouw and of mynheer herfather."
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 stillspeaking quite pleasantly, "for the lodgings being mine, I have theright to receive in them anybody whom I choose. Therefore now do I givethee the option, either to show my guests straightway and withmeticulous politeness into my room, or to taste the power and weight ofmy boot in the small of thy back and the hardness of my sword-hiltacross thy shoulders."
This time the man's mutterings became inaudible. Nicolaes Beresteyn andStoutenburg could only guess what was passing in the narrow corridor ofthe house opposite. The one moment there was a heart-rending howl, whichsuggested that the landlord's obduracy had lasted a few moments too longfor the impatient temper of a philosopher; but the howl was not repeatedand soon Diogenes' clear voice rang out lustily again:
"There! I knew that gentle persuasion would prevail. Dearly belovedlandlord, now I pray thee guide the jongejuffrouw and mynheer her fatherto 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 tocomplain of my friend the landlord, let me know. I am always to be foundat certain hours of the day within the congenial four walls of the 'LameCow.' Good-night then and pleasant dreams."
What went on after that the watchers could, of course, not see. Thewench and the old man had disappeared inside the house, where, if theyhad a spark of gratitude in them, they would undoubtedly be kneelingeven now at the feet of their whimsical benefactor.
The next moment the interested spectators of this stirring little scenebeheld the three philosophers once more standing together at the cornerof the street under the feebly flickering lamp and the slowly fallingsnow; the door of the lodging-house had been slammed to behind them andthe muffled heads had disappeared from out the framework of the windowsabove.
"And now, perhaps you will tell us what you are going to do," saidPythagoras in flute-like tones.
"There is not a bed vacant in the dormitory where I sleep," saidSocrates.
"Nor would I desire to sleep in one of those kennels fit only for dogswhich I cannot imagine how you both can stomach," quoth Diogeneslightly; "the close proximity of Pythagoras and yourself and of allthose who are most like you in the world would chase pleasing sleep frommine eyelids. I prefer the Canal."
"You cannot sleep out of doors in this h----l of a cold night," growledSocrates.
"And I cannot go back to the 'Lame Cow' for I have not a kreutzer leftin my wallet wherewith to pay for a sip."
"Then what the d----l are you going to do?" reiterated Pythagorasplaintively.
"I have a friend," said Diogenes after a slight pause.
"Hm?" was the somewhat dubious comment on this fairly simple statement.
"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 mewith hot ale and half his hunk of bread and cheese."
"Hals?" queried Socrates.
"Frans Hals," replied Diogenes; "he paints pictures and contrives tolive on the proceeds. If his wife does not happen to throw me out, hewill 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 agentleman now?"
"The play was short, O wise Pythagoras," retorted Diogenes withimperturbable good humour, "the curtain has already come down upon thelast act. I am once more a knave, a merchant ready to flatter thecustomer who will buy his wares: Hech there, sir, my lord! what are yourneeds? 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 thewench that pleases you. So many guilders! and when they are safely in mypocket I can throw my glove in your face lest you think I have furtherneed of your patronage."
"'Tis well to brag," muttered Pythagoras, "but you'll starve with coldthis night."
"But at dawn I'll eat a hearty breakfast offered me by my friend FransHals for the privilege of painting my portrait."
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"Doth he really paint thy portrait, O handsome Diogenes?" saidPythagoras unctuously.
"Aye! thou ugly old toad. He has begun a new one, for which I havepromised to sit. I'll pay for the breakfast he gives me, by donning agorgeous gold embroidered doubtlet which he once stole from somewhere,by putting my hand on my hip, tilting my hat at a becoming angle, andwinking at him by the hour whilst he paints away."
"Hm! after a night of wandering by the canal in the fog and snow andsharing the meagre breakfast of a half-starved painter, methinks theportrait will be that of a knight of the rueful countenance."
"Indeed not, old compeer," said Diogenes with a hearty laugh, "it shallbe the portrait of a Laughing Cavalier."