The Laughing Cavalier | Page 9

Come out, girl, and show thyself at
once, and we'll deal with thy protector later."
After which there were some lusty shouts of applause at this
determined attitude, shouts that were interrupted by a dulcet
high-pitched voice saying quietly:
"I take thee, friend Diogenes. Two guilders to three: do thou strike at
the pair of hands nearest to thee and while I count to three... "
From the torches up above there came a sharp glint of light as it struck
three steel blades, that swung out into the open.
"One -- two -- "
Four pairs of hands, which had been dragging on the woman's arm with
such determined force, disappeared precipitately into the darkness, and
thus suddenly released, the woman nearly fell backwards against the
gate.
"Pity," said the dulcet voice gently, "that bet will never be decided
now."
An angry murmur of protest rose from the crowd. The four men who
had been the leaders of the gang were pushed forward from the rear
amidst shouts of derision and brandishing of fists.

"Cowards! cowards! cowards! Jan Tiele, art not ashamed? Piet, go for
them! There are only three! Cowards to let yourselves be bullied!"
The crowd pushed from behind. The street being narrow, it could only
express its desire for a fight by shouts, it had no elbow-room for it, and
could only urge those in the forefront to pick a quarrel with the
interfering strangers.
"The blessing of God upon thee, stranger, and of the Holy Virgin..."
came in still quivering accents from out the darkness of the passage.
"Let the Holy Virgin help thee to hold thy tongue," retorted he who had
the name Diogenes, "and do thou let my friend Socrates close this
confounded door."
"Jan Tiele!" shouted some one in the crowd, "dost see what they are
doing? the gate is being closed..."
"And bolted," said a flute-like voice.
"Stand aside, strangers!" yelled the crowd.
"We are not in your way," came in calm response.
The three muffled figures side by side in close if somewhat
unnumerical battle array had taken their stand in front of the postern
gate, the heavy bolts of which were heard falling into their sockets
behind them with a loud clang. A quivering voice came at last from
behind the iron judas in the door.
"God will reward ye, strangers! we go pray for you to the Holy
Virgin..."
"Nay!" rejoined Diogenes lightly, "twere wiser to pray for Jan Tiele, or
for Piet or their mates -- some of them will have need of prayers in
about five minutes from now."
"Shame! cowards! plepshurk! At them, Jan! Piet! Willem!" shouted the
crowd lustily.

Once more stones were freely hurled, followed by a regular fusillade of
snowballs. One of these struck the crown of a plumed hat and knocked
it off the wearer's head. A face, merry, a trifle fleshy perhaps, but with
fine, straight brow, eyes that twinkled and mocked and a pair of full,
joyous lips adorned by a fair upturned moustache, met the gaze of an
hundred glowering eyes and towered half a head above the tallest man
there.
As his hat fell to the ground, the man made a formal bow to the yelling
and hooting crowd:
"Since one of you has been so kind as to lift my hat for me, allow me to
formally present myself and my friends here. I am known to my
compeers and to mine enemies as Diogenes," he said gravely, "a
philosopher of whom mayhap ye have never heard. On my left stands
Pythagoras, on my right Socrates. We are all at your service, including
even my best friend who is slender and is made of steel and hat name
Bucephalus -- he tells me that within the next few minutes he means to
become intimately acquainted with Dutch guts, unless ye disperse and
go peaceably back to church and pray God to forgive ye this act of
cowardice on New Year's eve!"
The answer was another volley of stones, one of which hit Socrates on
the side of the head.
"With the next stone that is hurled," continued Diogenes calmly, "I will
smash Jan Tiele's nose: and if more than one come within reach of my
hand, then Willem's nose shall go as well."
The warning was disregarded: a shower of stones came crashing
against the wall just above the postern gate.
"How badly these Dutchmen throw," growled Socrates in his gruff
voice.
"This present from thy friends in the rear, Jan Tiele," rejoined Diogenes,
as he seized that worthy by the collar and brandished a stone which he
had caught in its flight. " 'Tis they obviously who do not like the shape

of thy nose, else they had not sent me this wherewithal to flatten it for
thee."