The Laughing Cavalier by Baroness Orczy (best 7 inch ereader .TXT) 📕

patronage!⁠ ⁠… Will you recognise him tonight I wonder, as the rogue he really is? the rogue paid to do work that is too dirty for exalted gentlemen’s hands to touch? How you will loathe him after tonight!”

He drew in his breath with a quaint little sigh that had a thought of sadness in it, and turned away from the picture just as Frans Hals re-entered the room.

“When this picture is finished,” he said at once to his friend, “your name, my dear Hals, will ring throughout Europe.”

“ ’Tis your picture I want to finish,” said the other reproachfully, “I have such a fine chance of selling it the day after tomorrow.”

“Why the day after tomorrow?”

“The Burgomaster, Mynheer van der Meer, comes to visit my studio. He liked the beginnings of the picture very much when he saw it, and told me then that he would come to look at it again and would probably buy it.”

“I can be back here in less than a week. You can finish the picture then. The Burgomaster will wait.”

The artist sighed a plaintive, uncomplaining little sigh and shrugged his shoulders with an air of hopelessness.

“You don’t know what these people are,” he said, “they will buy a picture when the fancy seizes them. A week later they will mayhap not even look at it. Besides which the Burgomaster goes to Amsterdam next week. He will visit Rembrandt’s studio, and probably buy a picture there⁠ ⁠…”

His speech meandered on, dully and tonelessly, losing itself finally in incoherent mutterings. Diogenes looked on him with good-natured contempt.

“And you would lick the boots of such rabble,” he said.

“I have a wife and a growing family,” rejoined the artist, “we must all live.”

“I don’t see the necessity,” quoth Diogenes lightly, “not at that price in any case. You must live of course, my dear Hals,” he continued, “because you are a genius and help to fill this ugly grey world with your magnificent works, but why should your wife and family live at the expense of your manhood.”

Then seeing the look of horror which his tirade had called forth in the face of his friend, he said with more seriousness:

“Would the price of that picture be of such vital importance then?”

“It is not the money so much,” rejoined Frans Hals, “though God knows that that too would be acceptable, but ’tis the glory of it to which I had aspired. This picture to hang in the Stanhuis, mayhap in the reception hall, has been my dream these weeks past; not only would all the wealthy burghers of Haarlem see it there, but all the civic dignitaries of other cities when they come here on a visit, aye! and the foreign ambassadors too, who often come to Haarlem. My fame then would indeed ring throughout Europe.⁠ ⁠… It is very hard that you should disappoint me so.”

While he went on mumbling in his feeble querulous voice, Diogenes had been pacing up and down the floor apparently struggling with insistent thoughts. There was quite a suspicion of a frown upon his smooth brow, but he said nothing until his friend had finished speaking. Then he ceased his restless pacing and placed a hand upon Hals’ shoulder.

“Look here, old friend,” he said, “this will never do. It seems as if I, by leaving you in the lurch today, stood in the way of your advancement and of your fortune. That of course will never do,” he reiterated earnestly. “You the friend, who, like last night, are always ready to give me food and shelter when I have been without a grote in my pocket. You who picked me up ten years ago a shoeless ragamuffin wandering homeless in the streets, and gave me a hot supper and a bed, knowing nothing about me save that I was starving⁠ ⁠… for that was the beginning of our friendship was it not, old Frans?”

“Of course it was,” assented the other, “but that was long ago. You have more than repaid me since then⁠ ⁠… when you had the means⁠ ⁠… and now there is the picture.⁠ ⁠…”

“To repay a debt is not always to be rid of an obligation. How can I then leave you in the lurch now?”

“Why cannot you stay and sit for me today.⁠ ⁠… The light is fairly good⁠ ⁠…”

“I cannot stay now, dear old friend,” said the other earnestly, “on my honour I would do my duty by you now if I only could. I have business of the utmost importance to transact today and must see to it forthwith.”

“Then why not tomorrow?⁠ ⁠… I could work on the doublet and the lace collar today, by putting them on a dummy model.⁠ ⁠… All I want is a good long sitting from you for the head.⁠ ⁠… I could almost finish the picture tomorrow,” he pleaded in his peevish, melancholy voice, “and the Burgomaster comes on the next day.”

Diogenes was silent for awhile. Again that puzzled frown appeared between his brows. Tomorrow he should be leaving Leyden on his way to Rotterdam; 1,000 guilders would be in his pocket, and 3,000 more would be waiting for him at the end of his journey.⁠ ⁠… Tomorrow!⁠ ⁠…

Frans Hals’ keen, restless eyes followed every varying expression in the face he knew so well.

“Why should you not give up your day to me tomorrow?” he murmured peevishly. “You have nothing to do.”

“Why indeed not?” said the other with a sudden recrudescence of his usual gaiety. “I can do it, old compeer! Dondersteen, but I should be a smeerlap if I did not. Wait one moment.⁠ ⁠… Let me just think.⁠ ⁠… Yes! I have the way clear in my mind now.⁠ ⁠… I will be here as early as I was today.”

“By half-past seven o’clock the light is tolerable,” said the artist.

“By half-past seven then I shall have donned the doublet, and will not move off that platform unless you bid me, until the shadows have gathered in, in the wake of the setting sun. After that,” he added with his accustomed merry laugh, “let