CHAPTER XLII
THE FIGHT IN THE DOORWAY
It seemed to Stoutenburg that from the back of the hut there came thesound of bustle and activity: he thought that mayhap Beresteyn had hadthe good idea of making the sledge ready for departure, and he calledout 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 building Diogenes' tallfigure suddenly loomed before the Lord of Stoutenburg. He was standingin the doorway of the hut, with his back to it; one hand--the rightone--was thrust inside his doublet, the left was on the hilt of hissword; his battered hat was tilted rakishly above his brow and he wasregarding his approaching enemy with a look of keen amusement and ofscorn.
At first Stoutenburg thought that his fevered fancy was playing his eyesa weird and elusive trick, then as the reality of what he saw fullyburst upon his senses he uttered a loud and hoarse cry like a savagebeast that has been wounded.
"Plepshurk! smeerlap!" he cried fiercely.
"Rogue! Villain! Menial! Varlet! and all that you care to name me, mylord!" 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 buthe was no match for three philosophers, even though one of them atfirst was trussed like a fowl. Jan stuck to his post, my lord, rememberthat," he added more seriously, "even when all your other followers andfriends were scattered to the winds like a crowd of mice at the approachof a cat. We did not hurt Jan because he is a brave soldier, but we tiedhim down lest he ran to get assistance whilst assistance was stillavailable."
"You insolent knave...."
"You speak rightly, my lord: I am an insolent knave, and do so rejoicein mine insolence that I stayed behind here--while my brotherphilosophers accomplish the task which I have put upon them--on purposeto exercise some of that insolence upon you, and to see what power a manhath to curb his temper and to look pleasant, whilst an insolent knavedoth tell him to his face that he is an abject and degraded cur."
"Then by Heaven, you abominable plepshurk," cried Stoutenburg white withpassion, "since you stayed here to parley with me, I can still give youso complete a retort that your final insolence will have to be spoken inhell. But let me pass now. I have business inside the hut."
"I know you have, my lord," rejoined Diogenes coolly, "but I am afraidthat your business will have to wait until two philosophers namedrespectively 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 unworthyhead. Dondersteen! what have I not suffered already from thatall-powerful wrath!"
"You should have been hanged ere this...."
"It is an omission, my lord, which I fear me we must now leave to thefuture 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 rememberedthe man's wounded shoulder and saw that his right hand was temporarilydisabled.
"Ah, my lord!" quoth Diogenes lightly, as with his left he drewBucephalus out of its scabbard, "you had forgotten or perhaps you neverknew that during your follower's scramble for safety my sword remainedunheeded in an easily accessible spot, and also that it is as much athome in my left hand as in my right."
Like a bull goaded to fury Stoutenburg made a second and more vigorousthrust at his opponent. But Diogenes was already on guard: calm, veryquiet in his movements in the manner of the perfect swordsman.Stoutenburg, hot with rage, impetuous and clumsy, was at once at adisadvantage whilst this foreign adventurer, entirely self-possessed andgood-humoured, had the art of the sword at his finger-tips--the art ofperfect self-control, the art of not rushing to the attack, the supremeart of waiting for an opportunity.
No feint or thrust at first, only on guard, quietly on guard, andBucephalus seemed to be infinitely multiplied at times so quickly didthe bright steel flash out in the grey light and then subside again.
Stoutenburg was at once conscious of his own disadvantage. He was nomatch for this brilliant sword play; his opponent did indeed appear tobe only playing with him, but Stoutenburg felt all the time that theabominable 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 tohis head and was beating furiously in his temples, whilst the other manwith the additional advantage of a good position against the wall, keptup a perfect fusillade of good-humoured comments.
"Well attacked, my lord!" he cried gaily, "Dondersteen! were I as fat asyour Magnificence supposes, your sword would ere now have made a hole inmy side. Pity I am not broader, is it not? or more in the way of yoursword. There," he added as with a quick and sudden turn of the wrist heknocked his opponent's weapon out of his hand, "allow me to return youthis most useful sword."
He had already stooped and picked up Stoutenburg's sword, and now washolding it with slender finger tips by the point of its blade, andsmiling, urbane and mocking, he held it out at arm's length, bowing thewhile with courtly, ironical grace.
"Shall we call Jan, my lord," he said airily, "or one of your friends toaid you? Some of them I noticed just now seemed somewhat in a hurry toquit this hospitable molens, but mayhap one or two are still lingeringbehind."
Stoutenburg, blind with rage, had snatched his sword back out of thescoffer's hand. He knew that the man was only playing with him, onlykeeping him busy here to prevent his going to Gilda. This thought threwhim into a frenzy of excitement and not heeding the other's jeers hecried 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 hatredand his own fury, he would have heard not many paces away, the sound ofhorses' hoofs upon the hard ground, the champing of bits, the jingle ofharness. But of this he did not think, not just yet. His thoughts wereonly of Gilda, and that man was holding the door of the hut because hemeant to dispute with him the possession of Gilda. He cast aside allsense of pride and shame. He was no match with a foreign mercenary,whose profession was that of arms; there was no disgrace in his want ofskill. But he would not yield the ground to this adventurer who meant tosnatch Gilda away from him. After all the man had a wounded shoulder anda lacerated hip; with the aid of Jan and of Nicolaes he could soon berendered helpless.
New hope rose in the Lord of Stoutenburg's heart, giving vigour to hisarm. Now he heard the sound of running footsteps behind him; Jan wascoming to his aid and there were others; Nicolaes no doubt andHeemskerk.
"My lord! my lord!" cried Jan, horrified at what he saw. He had heardthe clang of steel against steel and had caught up the first sword thatcame to his hand. His calls and those of Stoutenburg as well as the morelusty ones of Diogenes reached the ears of Beresteyn, who with hisfriend Heemskerk was making a final survey of the molens, to search forcompromising papers that might have been left about. They too heard thecries 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, "andthe jongejuffrouw is still in the hut."
These last words dissipated Nicolaes Beresteyn's sudden thoughts ofcowardice. He too snatched up a sword and followed by Heemskerk he ranin Jan's wake.
The stranger, so lately a prisoner condemned to hang, was in the doorwayof the hut, with his back to it, his sword in his left hand keeping myLord of Stoutenburg at arm's length. Jan, Nicolaes and He
emskerk were onhim in a trice.
"Two, three, how many of you?" queried Diogenes with a laugh, as withsmart riposte he met the three blades which suddenly flashed out againsthim. "Ah, Mynheer Beresteyn, my good Jan, I little thought that I wouldsee 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 sentimentwhich had prompted him awhile ago to speak sympathetic words to acondemned man who had taken so much guilt upon his shoulders, stillfought in his heart against his hatred for the man himself. Since thattragic 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 hisfriends to the Stadtholder, and guessed that it was Gilda who hadinstigated or bribed him into that betrayal. And now the presentposition seemed to bring vividly before his mind the picture of thatafternoon in the "Lame Cow" at Haarlem, when the knave whom he had paidto keep Gilda safely out of the way was bargaining with his father tobring her back to him.
All the hatred of the past few days--momentarily lulled in the face of atragedy--rose up once more with renewed intensity in his heart. Here wasthe man who had betrayed him, and who, triumphant, was about to takeGilda back to Haarlem and receive a fortune for his reward.
While Heemskerk, doubtful and hesitating, marvelled if 'twere wise totake up Stoutenburg's private quarrels rather than follow his otherfriends to Scheveningen where safety lay, Jan and Beresteyn vigorouslyaided by Stoutenburg made a concerted attack upon the knave.
But it seemed as easy for Bucephalus to deal with three blades as withone: now it appeared to have three tongues of pale grey flame thatflashed hither and thither;--backwards, forwards, left, right, above,below, parry, riposte, an occasional thrust, and always quietly onguard.
Diogenes was in his greatest humour laughing and shouting with glee. Toanyone less blind with excitement than were these men it would soonhave been clear that he was shouting for the sole purpose of making anoise, a noise louder than the hammerings, the jinglings, the knockingthat was going on at the back of the hut.
To right and left of the front of the small building a high woodenpaling ran for a distance of an hundred paces or so enclosing a roughyard with a shed in the rear. It was impossible to see over the palingswhat was going on behind them and so loudly did the philosopher shoutand laugh, and so vigorously did steel strike against steel that it wasequally impossible to perceive the sounds that came from there.
But suddenly Stoutenburg was on the alert: something had caught his ear,a sound that rose above the din that was going on in the doorway ... awoman's piercing shriek. Even the clang of steel could not drown it, northe lusty shouts of the fighting philosopher.
For a second he strained his ear to listen. It seemed as if invisiblehands were suddenly tearing down the wooden palisade that hid the rearof the small building from his view; before his mental vision a wholepicture rose to sight. A window at the back of the hut broken in, Gildacarried away by the friends of this accursed adventurer--Jan had saidthat 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! inHeaven's name! Gilda! After me! quick!"
And then he starts to run, skirting the palisade in the direction whencecome now quite distinctly that ceaseless rattle, that jingle andstamping of the ground which proclaims the presence of horses on thepoint of departure.
"Jan, in Heaven's name, follow me!" cries Stoutenburg, pausing oneinstant ere he rounds the corner of the palisade. "Nicolaes, leave thatabominable 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 afterStoutenburg as fast as his tired limbs will allow. Heemskerk, forgettinghis own fears in the excitement of this hand-to-hand combat, follows intheir 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 likea vice. He could have screamed with the pain, and the sword which heheld falls out of his nerveless fingers. The next moment he feelshimself dragged by that same iron grasp through the open door into thehut, and hears the door slammed to and locked behind him.
"Your pardon if I have been rough, mynheer," said Diogenes' pleasantvoice, "but there was no time to argue outside that door and you seemedin such a mighty hurry to run straight into that yawning abyss ofdisgrace."
The grasp upon his arm had not relaxed, but it no longer hurt. Yet itwas so firm and so absolute that Nicolaes felt powerless to wrenchhimself away.
"Let me go!" he cried hoarsely.
"Not just yet, mynheer," rejoined Diogenes coolly, "not while this hottemper is upon you. Let the Lord of Stoutenburg and our friend Jan fightto their heart's content with a fat philosopher who is well able to holdhis own against them, while the other who is lean and a moderately goodcoachman sees that a pair of horses do not rear and bolt during thefray."
"Let me go, man, I tell you," cried Beresteyn who was making franticefforts to free himself from that slender white grapnel which held hisarm as in a vice.
"One moment longer, mynheer, and you shall go. The horses of which Ispeak are harnessed to a sledge wherein is the jongejuffrouw yoursister."
"Yes! verdommte Keerl! let me get to her or...."
"As soon as the fat philosopher has disposed of the Lord of Stoutenburgand of Jan he too will jump into the sledge and a minute later will bespeeding on its way to Haarlem."
"And there will be three of us left here to hang you to that samegallows on which you should have dangled an hour ago," exclaimedBeresteyn savagely.
"Possibly," retorted Diogenes dryly, "but even so your sister will be onthe way to Haarlem rather than to exile--whither the Lord of Stoutenburgand you--her brother--would drag her."
"And what is it to you, you abominable plepshurk, whither I go with mysister and my friend?"
"Only this, mynheer, that yesterday in this very room I proclaimedmyself a forger, a liar and a thief before the jongejuffrouw in orderthat her love for her only brother should not receive a mortal wound. Atthat moment I did greatly care for that lie," he added with his wontedflippancy, "but time hath lent it enchantment: It is on the whole one ofthe 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 minemade fruitless by the abominable action which you have incontemplation."
Beresteyn made no immediate reply. Easily swayed as he always was by acharacter stronger than his own, the words spoken by the man whom he hadalways affected to despise, could not fail to move him. He knew thatthat same abominable action of which he was being accused had indeedbeen contemplated not only by Stoutenburg but also by himself. It hadonly required one word from Stoutenburg--"Gilda of course comes withus"--one hint that her presence in Holland would be a perpetual menaceto his personal safety, and he had been not only willing but fullyprepared to put this final outrage upon the woman whom he should haveprotected with his life.
Therefore now he dared not meet the eager, questioning glance of thisadventurer, in whose merry eyes the look of irrepressible laughter wasmomentary veiled by one of anxiety. He looked around him restlessly,shiftily; his wandering glance fell on the narrow inner door which stoodopen, and he caught a glimpse of a smaller room beyond, with a window atthe further end of it. That window had been broken in from without, thenarrow frame torn out of its socket and the mullion wrenched out of itsgroove.
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 tothis spot. A short fat man with his back to the rear of the sledge washolding the Lord Stoutenburg and Heemskerk at
a couple of arm's lengthswith 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 withall his might to hold a pair of horses in, who frightened by the clangof steel against steel, by the movement and the shouting, werethreatening to plunge and rear at any moment.
Diogenes laughed aloud.
"My friend Pythagoras seems somewhat hard pressed," he said, "and thosehorses might complicate the situation at any moment. I must to them now,mynheer. Tell me then quickly which you mean to do; behave like anhonest man or like a cur?"
"What right have you to dictate to me?" said Beresteyn sullenly. "I haveno account to give to you of mine own actions."
"None I admit," rejoined the philosopher placidly, "but let me put thesituation a little more clearly before you. On the one hand you must ownthat I could at this moment with very little trouble and hardly anyscruples render you physically helpless first, then lock you up in thisroom, and go and join my friends outside. On the other hand you couldleave this room sound in body and at heart an honest man, jump into thesledge beside your sister and convey her yourself safely back to thehome from whence you--her own brother--should never have allowed her tobe taken."
"I cannot do it," retorted Beresteyn moodily, "I could not meet myfather face to face after what has happened."
"Think you Gilda would tell him that his only son has played the part oftraitor?"
"She loathes and despises me."
"She has a horror of that treacherous plot. But the plot has come tonaught; and she will consider that you are punished enough for italready, and feel happy that you are free from Stoutenburg's clutches."
"I cannot leave Stoutenburg now, and she must go with him. She hates mefor the outrage which was committed against her."
"She does not know your share in it," said Diogenes quickly, "have I nottold you that I lied admirably? She believes me to be the only culpritand 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, "whatmatters what my reputation is in her sight? She despises me so utterlyalready that a few sins more or less cannot lower me further in hersight."
"No! no! I cannot do it," persisted Beresteyn. "Go to your friends,man," he added fiercely, "the fat one is getting sorely pressed, theother cannot cope with the horses much longer! go to their aid! and killme if you are so minded. Indeed I no longer care, and in any case Icould 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 ownprotection, to keep her in the knowledge that whatever sins you may havecommitted you were at least true and loyal to herself. By Heaven man,hath she not suffered enough already in her person, in her pride, aboveall in her affections? Your loyalty to her at this moment would be amplecompensation for all that she hath suffered. Be an honest man and takeher 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 whosemoustache bristled with fury now, "for by Heaven I swear that you shallnot leave this place with a whole skin save to do an honest man's act ofreparation."
And as if to give greater emphasis to his words Diogenes gave the otherman's arm a vigorous wrench which caused Beresteyn to groan and cursewith pain.
"I may have to hurt you worse than this presently," said the philosopherimperturbably as he dragged Beresteyn--who by now felt dizzy andhelpless--to the nearest chair and deposited him there. "Were you nother brother, I believe I should crack your obstinate skull; as itis ... I will leave you here to take counsel with reason and honestyuntil I have finally disposed of my Lord of Stoutenburg."
He ran quickly to the outer door, pushed the bolts home, gave the key anextra turn and then pulled it out of the lock and threw it out of thewindow. Beresteyn--somewhat stunned with emotion, a little faint withthat vigorous wrench on his arm, and prostrate with the fatigue andexcitement of the past two days--made no attempt to stop him. No doubthe realized that any such attempt would indeed be useless: there was somuch vitality, so much strength in the man that his tall statureappeared to Nicolaes now of giant-like proportions, and his powers tosavour of the supernatural.
He watched him with dull, tired eyes, as he finally went out of the roomthrough 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 themist, only reached his dull perceptions like a far-off dream.
But in his mind he saw it all: the walls of the hut were transparentbefore his mental vision, he saw now the unequal fight; a perfectswordsman against Stoutenburg's unreasoning attacks and Heemskerk's wantof skill. Jan too will have joined them by now, but he was loutish andclumsy. The issue would have been a foregone conclusion even without theaid of the fat knave who had held his own already for nearly tenminutes. Yet, though his thoughts were not by any means all clear uponthe subject, Beresteyn made no attempt to go to his own friend'sassistance. Vaguely some pleasing visions began to float through spacearound him. It seemed as if the magic personality of a namelessadventurer still filled this narrow room with its vitality, with its joyand with its laughter. The optimistic breeziness which emanated from theman himself had lingered here after he was gone. His cheerful wordsstill 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 ofcourse. But that conspiracy had now aborted; Gilda would never betrayher brother's share in it either to the Stadtholder's vengeance or toher father's wrath.
And she had been made to believe that he was not the mover in theoutrage against her person.
"Then--why not?"
She had been forcibly dragged out of this hut: she knew that Stoutenburgmeant to take her away with him into exile; even if she had been onlypartially conscious since she was taken to the sledge, she would knowthat 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 ofthe sledge, and with the help of one or other of those knaves outsidesped away with her north to Haarlem, would she not be confirmed in herbelief in his loyalty, would he not play a heroic role, make her happyand himself free?
"Then--why not?"
All the papers relating to the aborted conspiracy which might havecompromised him he had upon his person even now. He and Heemskerk hadthemselves collected them in the weighing-room of the molens after Lucasof Sparendam had brought his terrible news.
"Then--why not?"
He rose briskly from his chair. The outer door of the hut was locked--hecrossed to the inner door. That was just on the latch and he threw itopen. Before him now was the broken window frame through which peepedthe dull grey light of this misty winter's morning. Out in the openthrough the filmy veil of the fog he could see the final phases of anunequal fight. Stoutenburg and Heemskerk were both disarmed and Jan hadjust appeared upon the scene. More far-seeing than were the Lord ofStoutenburg and Mynheer Heemskerk, he had very quickly realized thatsword in hand no one was a match for this foreigner and his invincibleblade. When the fighting was transferred from the doorway of the hut tothe open road-way in the rear, he had at first followed in the wake ofhis chief, then he had doubled back, swiftly running to the molens, andin the basement from out the scattered litter of arms hastily throwndown, he had quickly picked up a couple of pistols, found someammunition, quietly loaded the weapons and with them in his hand startedto run back to the hut.
All this had taken some few minutes while Pythagoras had borne the bruntof 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 had thrown open the door,and looked through the broken window at the precise moment when the Lordof Stoutenburg's sword flew out of his hand. Then it was that Jan camerunning along, shouting to my lord. Stoutenburg turned quickly, saw hisfaithful lieutenant and caught sight of the pistols which he held. Thenext second he had snatched one out of Jan's hand, and the pale ray of awintry sun penetrating through the mist found its reflection in a coupleof steel barrels pointed straight at a laughing philosopher.
Beresteyn from within felt indeed as if his heart stood still for thatone brief, palpitating second. Was Fate after all taking the decisionfor the future--Gilda's and his--out of his hands into her own? Would abullet end that vigorous life and still that merry laugh and that bitingtongue for ever, and leave Nicolaes to be swayed once more by the darkschemes and arbitrary will of his friend Stoutenburg?
Fate was ready, calmly spinning the threads of human destinies. Butthere are some men in the world who have the power and the skill to taketheir destinies in their own hands. The philosopher and weaver ofdreams, the merry Laughing Cavalier was one of these.
What the Lord of Stoutenburg had seen that he perceived equally quickly;he, too, had caught sight of Jan, and of the two steel barrelssimultaneously levelled at him; he too, realized that the most skilledswordsman is but a sorry match against a pair of bullets.
But while Beresteyn held his breath and Stoutenburg tried to steady thetrembling of his hand, he raised Bucephalus above his head and with awild shout pointed toward the southern horizon far away.
"The Stadtholder's guard!" he cried lustily, "they are on us! _Sauve quipeut!_"
Three cries of mad terror rent the air, there was a double detonation, agreat deal of smoke. The horses in the sledge reared and plunged wildly,forcing those who were nearest to the vehicle to beat a precipitateretreat.
"At the horses' heads, you wooden-headed bladder," shouted Diogeneslustily. Pythagoras did his best to obey, while Socrates was nearlydragged off the box by the frightened horses. Heemskerk had alreadyincontinently taken to his heels. Jan had dropped his weapon whichDiogenes at once picked up. The Lord of Stoutenburg was preparing tofire again.
"_Sauve qui peut_, my lord!" cried Diogenes, "before I change my mindand put a hole through your heel, which will prevent your running awayfast enough to escape the Stadtholder's wrath."
There was another detonation. The horses reared and plunged again. WhenBeresteyn once more obtained a clear view of the picture, he saw theLord of Stoutenburg stretched out on his back upon the ground in aposition that was anything but dignified and certainly very perilous,for Diogenes towering above him was holding him by both feet. The tallsoldierly figure of the foreigner stood out clearly silhouetted againstthe grey, misty light: his head with its wealth of unruly brown curlswas thrown back with a gesture that almost suggested boyish delight insome impish mischief, whilst his infectious laugh echoed and re-echoedagainst the walls of the molens and of the hut.
Jan was on his hands and knees crawling toward those two men--theconqueror and the conquered--with no doubt a vague idea that he mighteven now render assistance to my lord.
"Here, Pythagoras, old fat head," cried Diogenes gaily, "see that ourfriend here does not interfere with me: and that he hath not a concealedponiard somewhere about his person, then collect all pistols and swordsthat are lying about, well out of harm's way. In the meanwhile what am Ito do with his Magnificence? he is kicking like a vicious colt and thatshoulder of mine is beginning to sting like fury."
"Kill me, man, kill me!" cried Stoutenburg savagely, "curse you, whydon't you end this farce?"
"Because, my lord," said Diogenes more seriously than was his wont, "thepurest and most exquisite woman on God's earth did once deign to bestowthe priceless jewel of her love upon you. Did she know of your presentplight, she would even now be pleading for you: therefore," he addedmore flippantly, "I am going to give myself the satisfaction of makingyou a present of the last miserable shred of existence which you willdrag on from this hour forth in wretchedness and exile to the end ofyour days. Take your life and freedom, my lord," he continued inresponse to the invectives which Stoutenburg muttered savagely underhis breath, "take it at the hands of the miserable plepshurk whom you sodespise. It is better methinks to do this rather than fall into thehands of the Stadtholder, whose mercy for a fallen enemy would be equalto your own."
Then he shouted to Pythagoras.
"Here, old compeer! search his Magnificence for concealed weapons, andthen make ready to go. We have wasted too much time already."
Despite Stoutenburg's struggles and curses Pythagoras obeyed his brotherphilosopher to the letter. His lordship and Jan were both effectuallydisarmed now. Then only did Diogenes allow Stoutenburg to struggle tohis feet. He had his sword in his left hand and Pythagoras stood besidehim. 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 Lordof Heemskerk has gone and Mynheer Beresteyn has disappeared. Here we cando nothing more."
"Nothing, my good Jan," said Diogenes more seriously, "you are a bravesoldier 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 itseemed as if his blind fury would still conquer reason and prudence andthat he meant once more to make an attack upon his victorious enemy, butsomething in the latter's look of almost insolent triumph recalled himto the peril of his own situation: he passed his hand once or twice overhis brow, like a man who is dazed and only just returning toconsciousness, then he called loudly to Jan to follow him, and walkedrapidly away northwards through the fog.
Beresteyn went up to the broken window and watched him till he was outof sight, then he looked on Diogenes. That philosopher also watched theretreating figure of the Lord of Stoutenburg until the fog swallowed itup, 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 thepossession of a running river of home-brewed ale. And I am mightily dryat the present moment."
"Jump up then on the box beside Socrates, you old wine-tub, and get toLeyden as quickly as these horses will take you. A halt at Voorburg willrefresh 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 shallfollow you at a distance, and probably overtake you before you get toLeyden. 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 youmust serve her as best you can. Someone will be with her who will knowhow 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, 'tisonly three feet from the ground, and horses and men are quite ready foryou."
He gave a lusty cheer of satisfaction as Beresteyn, throwing all finalcowardly hesitations to the wind, suddenly made up his mind to take theone wise and prudent course. He swung himself through the window, and ina few moments was standing by Diogenes' side.
"Let me at least tell you, sir ..." he began earnestly.
"Hush!--tell me nothing now ..." broke in the other man quickly, "thejongejuffrouw might hear."
"But I must thank you----"
"If you say another word," said Diogenes, sinking his voice to awhisper, "I'll order Socrates to drive on and leave you standing here."
"But...."
"Into the sledge, man, in Heaven's name. The
jongejuffrouw isunconscious, her woman daft with fear. When the lady regainsconsciousness 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 theorder to start."
And without more ado, he hustled Nicolaes into the sledge. The latterbewildered, really not clear with himself as to what he ought to do,peeped tentatively beneath the cover of the vehicle. He saw his sisterlying there prone upon the wooden floor of the sledge, her head restedagainst a bundle of rugs hastily put together for her comfort. Maria wassquatting beside her, her head and ears muffled in a cloak, her hands upto her eyes; she was moaning incoherently to herself.
Gilda's eyes were closed, and her face looked very pale: Beresteyn'sheart ached at the pitiful sight. She looked so wan and so forlorn thata sharp pang of remorse for all his cruelty to her shot right throughhis dormant sensibilities.
There was just room for him under the low cover of the sledge; hehesitated no longer now, he felt indeed as if nothing would tear himaway from Gilda's side until she was safely home again in their father'sarms.
A peremptory order: "En avant," struck upon his ear, a shout from thedriver to his horses, the harness rattled, the sledge creaked upon itsframework and then slowly began to move: Beresteyn lifted the flap ofthe hood at the rear of the vehicle and looked out for the last timeupon the molens and the hut, where such a tragic act in his life's dramahad just been enacted.
He saw Diogenes still standing there, waving his hat in farewell: for afew moments longer his splendid figure stood out clearly against theflat grey landscape beyond, then slowly the veil of mist began toenvelop him, at first only blurring the outline of his mantle or hissash, then it grew more dense and the sledge moved away more rapidly.
The next moment the Laughing Cavalier had disappeared from view.