CHAPTER XVIII

THE START

Once the door safely closed behind him, he heaved a deep sigh as if of

intense relief and he passed his hand quickly across his brow.

"By St. Bavon," he murmured, "my friend Diogenes, thou hast had to face

unpleasantness before now--those arquebusiers at Magdeburg were

difficult to withstand, those murderous blackguards in the forests of

Prague nearly had thy skin, but verdommt be thou, if thou hast had to

hold thy temper in bounds like this before. Dondersteen! how I could

have crushed that sharp-tongued young vixen till she cried for

mercy ... or silenced those venomous lips with a kiss!... I was sore

tempted indeed to give her real cause for calling me a knave...."

In the tap-room downstairs he found Pythagoras and Socrates curled up on

the floor in front of the hearth. They were fast asleep, and Diogenes

did not attempt to wake them. He had given them their orders for the

next day earlier in the evening and with the promise of 500 golden

guilders to be won by implicit obedience the two worthies were not like

to disobey.

He himself had his promise to his friend Hals to redeem ... the flight

along the frozen waterways back to Haarlem, a few hours spent in the

studio in the Peuselaarsteeg, then the return flight to rejoin his

compeers and the jongejuffrouw at the little hamlet of Houdekerk off the

main road; thither he had ordered them to proceed in the early morning

there to lie perdu until his return. Houdekerk lay to the east of

Leyden and so well off the beaten track that the little party would be

safely hidden there during the day;--he intended to be with them again

well before midnight of the next day. For the nonce he collected a few

necessary provisions which he had ordered to be ready for him--a half

bottle of wine, some meat and bread, then he made his way out of the

little hostelry and across the courtyard to the stables where the horses

had been put up. The night was singularly clear: the waning moon after

she had emerged from a bank of low-lying clouds, lit up the surrounding

landscape with a radiance that was intensely blue.

Groping his way about in the stables Diogenes found his saddle which he

himself had lifted off his horse, and from out the holster he drew a

pair of skates. With these hanging by their straps upon his arm, he left

the building behind him and turned to walk in the direction of the

river.

The little city lay quite peaceful and still under the weird brilliancy

of the moon which threw many-hued reflections on the snow-covered

surfaces of roofs and tall gables. It was piercingly cold, the silver

ribbon of the Rhyn wound its graceful course westward to the North Sea

and from beyond its opposite bank a biting wind swept across the dykes

and over the flat country around, chasing myriads of crisp snowflakes

from their rest and driving them in wanton frolic round and round into

little whirlpools of mist that glistened like the facets of diamonds.

Diogenes had walked briskly along; the skates upon his arm clicked at

every one of his movements with a pleasing metallic sound. He chose a

convenient spot on the river bank whereon to squat on the ground, and

fastened on his skates.

After which he rose and for a moment stood looking straight out

northwards before him. But a few leagues--half a dozen at most--lay

between him and Haarlem. The Rhyn as well as the innumerable small

polders and lakes had left--after the autumn floods--their usual trail

of narrow waterways behind them which, frozen over now, joining,

intersecting and rejoining again formed a perfect, uninterrupted road

from hence to the northern cities. It had been along these frozen ways

that the daring and patriotic citizens of Leyden had half a century ago

kept up communication with the outer world during the memorable siege

which had lasted throughout the winter, and it was by their help that

they were able to defy the mighty investing Spanish army by getting

provisions into the beleaguered city.

A young adventurer stood here now calmly measuring in his mind the

distance which he would have to traverse in the teeth of a piercing gale

and at dead of night in order to satisfy the ambition of a friend. It

was not the first time in his hazardous career that he had undertaken

such a journey. He was accustomed to take all risks in life with

indifference and good humour, the only thing that mattered was the

ultimate end: an exciting experience to go through, a goodly competence

to earn, a promise to fulfil.

Up above, the waning moon seemed to smile upon his enterprise; she lay

radiant and serene on her star-studded canopy of mysterious ethereal

indigo. Diogenes looked back on the little hostelry, which lay some

little distance up the street at right angles to the river bank. Was it

his fancy or one of those many mysterious reflections thrown by the

moon? but it certainly seemed to him as if a light still burned in one

of the upper windows.

The unpleasant interview with the jongejuffrouw had evidently not

weighed his spirits down, for to that distant light he now sent a loud

and merry farewell.

Then deliberately facing the bitter blast he struck out boldly along the

ice and started on his way.

The Laughing Cavalier: The Story of the Ancestor of the Scarlet Pimpernel · 第 18 / 45 章