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 adventurers 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," concluded Diogenes airily.
He was carefully wiping the shining blade of Bucephalus with the corner
of Pythagoras' mantle.
"Verrek jezelf! and what the d----l?" queried the latter in a high
falsetto.
"My mantle is almost new," said Diogenes reproachfully; "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 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 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 refuge, 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 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! 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
retaliates ... it is but just."
"Gentle sir," said the girl, who obviously had much ado to preserve her
gravity, "your modesty doth but 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 throughout 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 undertake to say, and
asked with a gracious smile:
"And what is your next wish, gentle sir?"
"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 swallowed 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.