CHAPTER XIII
THE SPANISH WENCH
An hour later in the tap-room of the "Lame Cow" Diogenes had finishedexplaining to his brother philosophers the work which he had in hand andfor which he required their help. The explanation had begun with thewords 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 undertakenin amicable trilogy that Diogenes would be as good as these words.
For the rest they did not greatly trouble themselves. There was a ladyto be conveyed with respect and with safety, out of Haarlem and as faras Rotterdam, and it was in Rotterdam that the 500 guilders would rewardeach man for his obedience to orders, his circumspection at all timesand his valour if necessity arose. From this hour onwards and throughoutthe journey friend Diogenes would provide for everything and see thathis faithful compeers lacked in nothing. Temperance and sober conductwould be the order paramount, but with that exception the adventurepromised to be as exciting as it was lucrative.
It was good to hear the guilders jingling in Diogenes' wallet, andthough he was sparing of them in the matter of heady ale or strongwines, he scattered them liberally enough on smoked sausage, friedlivers and the many other delicacies for which his brother philosophershad a fancy and for which the kitchen of the "Lame Cow" was famous.
When they had all eaten enough and made merry on a little good ale andthe prospects of the adventure, they parted on the doorstep of thetavern, Diogenes to attend to business, the other two to see to thehorses and the sleigh for this night. These were to be in readiness atthe point where the street of the Holy Cross abuts on the left bank ofthe Oude Gracht. Three good saddle horses were wanted--thick-setFlanders mares, rough shod against the slippery roads; also a coveredsledge, with two equally reliable horses harnessed there to and acoachman of sober appearance on the box. Socrates and Pythagoras wererequired to scour the city for these, and to bespeak them for seveno'clock this evening, Diogenes undertaking to make payment for them inadvance. There were also some warm rugs and wraps to be bought, for thenight would be bitterly cold and the lady not prepared mayhap with acloak sufficiently heavy for a lengthy journey.
All these matters having been agreed upon, Socrates and Pythagorasstarted to walk toward the eastern portion of the city where severalposting inns were situated and where they hoped to find the conveyancewhich they required as well as the necessary horses. Diogenes on theother hand turned his steps deliberately southwards.
After a few minutes brisk walking he found himself at the further end ofthe Kleine Hout Straat, there where stood the ricketty, half-mildewedand wholly insalubrious house which had previously sheltered him. Thedoor as usual was loose upon its hinges and swinging backwards andforwards in the draught with a squeaking, melancholy sound. Diogenespushed it further open and went in. The same fetid smells, peculiar toall the houses in this quarter of the city, greeted his nostrils, andfrom the depths of the dark and dank passage a dog gave a perfunctorybark.
Without hesitation Diogenes now began the ascent of the creaking stairs,his heavy footfall echoing through the silent house. On one or two ofthe landings as he mounted he was greeted by pale, inquiring faces andround inquisitive eyes, whilst ghostlike forms emerged out of hiddenburrows for a moment to look on the noisy visitor and then equallyfurtively vanished again.
On the topmost landing he halted; here a small skylight in the roofafforded a modicum of light. Two doors confronted him, he went up to oneof them and knocked on it loudly with his fist.
Then he waited--not with great patience but with his ear glued to thedoor listening to the sounds within. It almost seemed as if the roombeyond was the abode of the dead, for not a sound reached the listener'sear. He knocked again, more loudly this time and more insistently. Stillno response. At the other door on the opposite side of the landing afemale figure appeared wrapped in a worsted rag, and a head half hiddenby a linen coif was thrust forward out of the darkness behind it.
"They's won't answer you," said the apparition curtly. "They arestrangers ... only came last night, but all this morning when thelandlord or his wife knocked at the door, they simply would not openit."
"But I am a friend," said Diogenes, "the best I fancy that these poorfolk have."
"You used to lodge here until last night."
"Why yes. The lodgings are mine, I gave them up to these poor people whohad nowhere else to go."
"They won't answer you," reiterated the female apparition dolefully andonce more retired into its burrow.
The situation was becoming irritating. Diogenes put his mouth againstthe keyhole and shouted "What ho, there! Open!" as lustily as hispowerful 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 frightened small animal, followedby a patter of naked feet upon a naked floor; the next moment the doorwas thrown invitingly open, and Diogenes was able to step across itsthresh-hold.
"Dondersteen!" he ejaculated again, "hadst thou not opened, wench, Iwould 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 unrulywas coiled around her head, her shift and kirtle were neatly fastened,but her legs and feet were bare and above the shift her neck andshoulders appeared colourless and attenuated. Eyes and hair were dark,and her skin had the olive tint of the south, but her lips at thismoment looked bloodless, and there was the look of starvation in her wanface.
Diogenes walked past her into the inner room. The old man was lying onthe bed, and on the coverlet close to him a much fingered prayer-booklay open. The woman slipped noiselessly past the visitor and quietly putthe prayer-book away.
"You have come to tell us that we must go," she said in an undertone asshe suddenly faced the newcomer.
"Indeed, that was not my purpose," he replied gaily, "I have come on thecontrary to bring you good news, and it was foolish of you to keep medangling on your doorstep for so long."
"The landlord hates us," she murmured, "because you forced him lastnight to take us in. He came thundering at the door early this morning,and threatened to eject us as vagabonds or to denounce us as Spanishspies. I would not open the door to him, and he shouted his threats atus through the keyhole. When you knocked just now I was frightened. Ithought that he had come back."
Her voice was low and though she spoke Dutch fluently her throat had init the guttural notes of her native land. A touch of the gipsy theremust be in her, thought Diogenes as he looked with suddenly arousedinterest 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 hervisitor, then cast shy, timorous glances on him as he refused to sit,preferring to lean his tall figure against the white-washed wall. Shethought that never in her life had she seen any man so splendid and herlook of bold admiration told him so without disguise.
"Well!" he said with his quaint smile, "I am not the landlord, nor yetan enemy. Art thou convinced of that?"
"Yes, I am!" she said with a little sigh, as she turned away from him inorder 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 hadseen to the old man's wants, "and to-day he is so crippled that he canscarcely move. We ought never to have come to this horrible cold part ofthe country," she added with a sudden tone of fierce resentment. "Ithink 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 wereso rich. I was born not far from here, and so was my mother, but myfather is a native of Spain. In France, in Brabant w
here we wanderedbefore, 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 andfather is able to move, neither of which seems very likely just now."
"Ah!" he said cheerily, "that is, wench, where I proclaim thee wrong! Ido not know when thy father will be able to move, but I can tell thee atthis very moment where and how thou canst earn fifty guilders whichshould take thee quite a long way toward Spain."
She looked up at him and once more that glance of joy and of surprisecrept into her eyes which had seemed so full of vindictive anger justnow. 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 breezypersonality, with his swagger and with his laughter; his ringing voicehad roused the echoes that slept in the mouldy rafters and frightenedthe mice that dwelt in the wainscotting and now scampered hurriedlyaway.
"I," she said with obvious incredulity, "I to earn fifty guilders! Ihave not earned so much in any six months of my life."
"Perhaps not," he rejoined gaily. "But I can promise thee this; that thefifty guilders will be thine this evening, if thou wilt render me asimple service."
"Render thee a service," she said, and her low voice sounded quitecooing and gentle, "I would thank God on my knees if I could render theea service. Didst thou not save my life...."
"By thy leave we'll not talk of that matter. 'Tis over and done withnow. The service I would ask of thee, though 'tis simple enough toperform, I could not ask of anyone else but thee. An thou'lt do it, Ishall 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 theRemonstrant Chapel of St. Pieter."
"There is, sir. I know it."
"This evening at seven o'clock then thou'lt take thy stand at the cornerof this passage facing the Oude Gracht; and there thou wilt remain toask 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 cathedral, one or twopeople will no doubt come thy way. Thou'lt beg them for alms in theusual way. But anon a lady will come accompanied by a duenna andpreceded by two serving men carrying lanthorns. From her thou must askinsistently, 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 trimmedwith fur. Thou canst not mistake them even in the dark, for the light ofthe lanthorns which they carry will be upon them. But I will be in thepassage close behind thee. When I see her coming I will warn thee."
"I understand," she said, nodding her head slowly once or twice as ifshe were brooding over what she thought. "But surely that is not allthat I can do for thee."
"Indeed it is, and therefore none too difficult. Having drawn the ladyinto the shadow by thy talk, contrive to speak to her, telling her ofthy troubles. If anything occurs after that to surprise or mayhapfrighten thee, pay no heed to it, but take at once to thy heels and runstraight home here, without looking to right or left. No one will molestthee, 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 tocommand 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 thefifty guilders in thy hand."
"Fifty guilders!" she exclaimed almost with ecstasy, and pressed herhands to her breast. "My father and I need not starve or be homeless thewhole of this winter."
"Thou'lt make tracks for Spain very soon," he rejoined carelessly, forhe had accomplished his business and was making ready to go.
She threw him a strange look, half defiant yet almost reproachful.
"Perhaps!" she said curtly.
He took leave of her in his usual pleasant, airy manner, smiling at herearnestness and at her looks that reminded him of a starving dog whichhe had once picked up in the streets of Prague and kept and fed for atime, until he found it a permanent home. When he gave the dog away tosome kindly people who promised to be kind to it, it threw him, atparting, just such a look as dwelt in the dark depths of this girl'seyes now.
The old cripple on the bed had fallen into a torpor-like sleep. Diogenescast a compassionate glance on him.
"Thou canst take him to better quarters in a day or two," he said, "andmayhap 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, butat the timid look of humble apology which she raised to him, he saidgently:
"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 hoveringon 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 watchedher, 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-nightbecause of thy love for her?"
For a second or two he looked on her in blank amazement, marvelling ifhe had entrusted this vital business to a semi-imbecile. Then seeingthat indeed she appeared in deadly earnest, and that her great,inquiring but perfectly lucid eyes were fixed upon him with muteinsistence, he threw back his head and laughed till the very rafters ofthe 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 thyhead?"
"Thou dost propose to abduct her, I know that," she said more firmly. "Iam no fool, and I understand I am to be the decoy. The dark passage, thelonely spot, thy presence there ... and then the occurrence, as thousaidst, that might surprise or frighten me.... I am no fool," sherepeated 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 tohelp 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 seethee glad."
And he had his wish, for quite a joyous smile lit up her small, pinchedface. 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 tookhis leave, "give four raps on the door at marked intervals. I would flyto open it then."
He thanked her and went down stairs, humming a lively tune and neveronce turning to look on her again. And yet she was leaning over thericketty banisters watching his slowly descending figure, until itdisappeared in the gloom.