The Laughing Cavalier | Page 5

of the three men had been more thirsty, or the other more
insistent...
If it had been any other day of the year, or any other hour of any other
day...
If the three philosophers had taken their walk abroad in any other
portion of the city of Haarlem...
If...
Nay! but there's no end to the Ifs which I might adduce in order to
prove to you beyond a doubt that but for an extraordinary
conglomeration of minor circumstances, the events which I am about to
relate neither would nor could ever have taken place.
For indeed you must admit that had the snow come down again or the
weather been colder, or wetter, the three philosophers would mayhap
all have felt that priceless thirst and desire for comfort which the
interior of a well-administered tavern doth so marvelously assuage.
And had it been any other day of the year or any other hour of that
same day of they year 1623, those three philosophers would never have
thought of wiling away the penultimate hour of the dying year by
hanging round the Grootemarkt in order to see the respectable mynheer
burghers and the mevrouws their wives, filing into the cathedral in a
sober and orderly procession, with large silver-clasped Bibles under

their arms, and that air of satisfied unctuousness upon their faces which
is best suited to the solemn occasion of watch-night service, and the
desire to put oneself right with Heaven before commencing a New Year
of commercial and industrial activity.
And had those three philosophers not felt any desire to watch this same
orderly procession they would probably had taken their walk abroad in
another portion of the city from whence...
But now I am anticipating.
Events crowded in so thickly and so fast, during the last hour of the
departing year and the first of the newly-born one, that it were best
mayhap to proceed with their relation in the order in which they
occurred.
For, look you, the links of a mighty chain had their origin on the steps
of the Stadhuis, for it is at the foot of these that three men were
standing precisely at the moment when the bell of the cathedral struck
the penultimate hour of the last day of the year 1623.
Mynheer van der Meer, Burgomaster of Haarlem, was coming down
those same steps in the company of Mynheer van Zilcken, Mynheer
Beresteyn and other worthy gentlemen, all members of the town
council and all noted for their fine collections of rare tulips, the finest
in the whole of the province of Holland.
There was great rivalry between Mynheer van der Meer, Mynheer van
Zilcken and Mynheer Beresteyn on the subject of their tulip bulbs, on
which they expended thousands of florins every year. Some people held
that the Burgomaster had exhibited finer specimens of 'Semper
Augustus' than any horticulturist in the land, while others thought that
the 'Scwarzer Kato' shown by Mynheer Beresteyn had been absolutely
without a rival.
And as this group of noble councilors descended the steps of the
Stadhuis, preparatory to joining their wives at home and thence
escorting them to the watch-night service at the cathedral, their talk was

of tulips and of tulip bulbs, of the specimens which they possessed and
the prices which they had paid for these.
"Fourteen thousand florins did I pay for my 'Schwarzer Kato'," said
Mynheer Beresteyn complacently, "and now I would not sell it for
twenty thousand."
"There is a man up at Overveen who has a new hybrid now, a sport of
'Schone Juffrouw' -- the bulb has matured to perfection, he is putting it
up for auction next week," said Mynheer van Zilcken.
"It will fetch in the open market sixteen thousand at least," commented
Mynheer van der Meer sententiously.
"I would give that for it and more," rejoined the other, "if it is as perfect
as the man declares it to be."
"Too late," now interposed Mynheer Beresteyn with a curt laugh, "I
purchased the bulb from the man at Overveen this afternoon. He did not
exaggerate its merits. I never saw a finer bulb."
"You bought it?" exclaimed the Burgomaster in tones that were
anything but friendly towards his fellow councilor.
"This very afternoon," replied the other. "I have it in the inner pocket of
my doublet at this moment"
And he pressed his hand to his side, making sure that the precious bulb
still reposed next to his heart.
"I gave the lout fifteen thousand florins for it," he added airily, "he was
glad not to take the risks of an auction, and I equally glad to steal a
march on my friends."
The three men who were leaning against the wall of the Stadhuis, and
who had overheard this conversation, declared subsequently