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
merry-makers 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 façade 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, and Mynheer Beek, the
host of the "Lame Cow," who is 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 conviviality, 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 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 clientèle 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 philosophers 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 re-adjusted 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.
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
forward 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 semi-colon, 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.
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
moustache 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 permanently 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.
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
substantial fare.
The two serving wenches were more busy, hotter and more profusely
streaming with moisture than they had ever been before. It was "Käthi
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 over-flowing with
chairs and tables. People sat everywhere 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 white-washed 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, 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, fantastic names and shouted their rough jests
to one another across the width of the room. Homeless, shiftless,
thriftless, 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 Wry-face 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
anyone 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
interruption into the room. They brought with them an atmosphere 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 before, "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 warning 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."
"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
peaceful burghers of the city were only here on suffrance.
The three philosophers had already called for some old Rhenish wine on
draught. Käthi 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 nonsense," said Socrates, who was more
sulky now than he had been before he went to sleep.
Pythagoras uttered a prolonged sigh and gazed meditatively 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.
Socrates and Pythagoras nodded in their gloomy response.
"Gallantry, eh? some beauteous damsel, to succour whom we throw our
life, our best chances away?" continued 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 accompaniment 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 incidents 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.
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 mincing 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 dénouement 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 endowed 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?"
"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 unbuckled, 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
Cæsar for Cæsar 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, 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 committed 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 a 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; braggarts 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 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 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 delicately 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," rejoined Diogenes
lightly.
"You live by the profession of arms, sir? No offence, 'tis a noble
calling, though none too lucrative I understand."
"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 understand. 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
rôle in the comedy of a philosopher's life. As a means to an
end--perhaps ... the final dénouement...."
"Always that one aim I see--a desire for complete independence 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 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 complain
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
gesticulated with an air of independence which once more drew 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 sea-shore, 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 greatly stirred by memories of youth.