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

“Both of which, sir, you will surely do,” now interposed Beresteyn with solemn conviction. “Your acts and words do proclaim you a gentleman, and therefore you will die one day, just as you have lived. In the meanwhile, I am as good as my word. My daughter’s safety, her life and her honour are worth a fortune to me. I am reputed a wealthy man. My business is vast, and I have one million guilders lying at interest in the hands of Mynheer Bergansius the world-famed jeweller of Amsterdam. One-half that money, sir, shall be yours together with my boundless gratitude, if you deliver my daughter out of the hands of the malefactors who have seized her person and bring her back safe and sound to me.”

“If life is granted me, sir,” rejoined Diogenes imperturbably, without a blush or a tremor, “I will find your daughter and bring her safely to you as speedily as God will allow me.”

“But you cannot do this alone, sir⁠ ⁠…” urged Cornelius, on whom doubt and fear had not yet lost their hold. “How will you set to work?”

“That, mynheer, is my secret,” rejoined Diogenes placidly, “and the discussion of my plans might jeopardise their success.”

“True, sir; but remember that the anxiety which I suffer now will be increased day by day, until it brings me on the threshold of the grave.”

“I will remember that, mynheer, and will act as promptly as may be; but the malefactors have twenty-four hours start of me. I may have to journey far ere I come upon their track.”

“But you will have companions with you, sir? Friends who will help and stand by you. Those sea-wolves are notorious for their daring and their cruelty⁠ ⁠… they may be more numerous too than you think.⁠ ⁠…”

“The harder the task, mynheer,” said Diogenes with his enigmatical smile, “the greater will be my satisfaction if I succeed in fulfilling it.”

“But though you will own to no kindred, surely you have friends?” insisted Beresteyn.

“Two faithful allies, and my sword, the most faithful of them all,” replied the other.

“You will let me furnish you with money in advance, I hope.”

“Not till I have earned it, mynheer.”

“You are proud, sir, as well as chivalrous,” retorted Cornelius.

“I pray you praise me not, mynheer. Greed after money is my sole motive in undertaking this affair.”

“This I’ll not believe,” concluded Beresteyn as he now rose to go. “Let me tell you, sir, that by your words, your very presence, you have put new life, new hope into me. Something tells me that I can trust you⁠ ⁠… something tells me that you will succeed.⁠ ⁠… Without kith or kindred, sir, a man may rise to fortune by his valour: ’tis writ in your face that you are such an one. With half a million guilders so earned a man can aspire to the fairest in the land,” he added not without significance, “and there is no father who would not be proud to own such a son.”

He then shook Diogenes warmly by the hand. He was a different man to the poor grief-stricken rag of humanity who had entered this tavern a few hours ago. His friends also shook the young man by the hand and said a great many more gracious and complimentary words to him which he accepted in grave silence, his merry eyes twinkling with the humour of it all.

The worthy burghers filed out of the taproom one by one, in the wake of Cornelius. It was bitterly cold and the snow was again falling: they wrapped their fur-lined mantles closely round them ere going out of the warm room, but their hats they kept in their hands until the last, and were loth to turn their backs on Diogenes as they went. They felt as if they were leaving the presence of some great personage.

It was only when the heavy oaken door had fallen to for the last time behind the pompous soberly-clad figures of the mynheers and Diogenes found himself alone in the tapperij with his friend Frans Hals that he at last gave vent to that overpowering sense of merriment which had all along threatened to break its bonds. He sank into the nearest chair:

“Dondersteen! Dondersteen!” he exclaimed between the several outbursts of irrepressible laughter which shook his powerful frame and brought the tears to his eyes, “Gods in Olympia! have you ever seen the like? Verrek jezelf, my good Hals, you should go straight to Paradise when you die for having brought about this heaven-born situation. Dondersteen! Dondersteen! I had promised myself two or three hours’ sleep, but we must have a bottle of Beek’s famous wine on this first!”

And Frans Hals could not for the life of him understand what there was in this fine situation that should so arouse Diogenes’ mirth.

But then Diogenes had always been an irresponsible creature, who was wont to laugh even at the most serious crisis of his life.

“Come to my lodgings, Nicolaes. I have good news for you, and you do no good by cooling your temper here in the open.”

Stoutenburg, coming out of his lodgings half an hour later to look for his friend, had found Beresteyn in the Hout Straat walking up and down like a caged beast in a fury.

“The vervloekte Keerl! the plepshurk! the smeerlap!” he ejaculated between his clenched teeth. “I’ll not rest till I have struck him in the face first and killed him after!”

But he allowed Stoutenburg to lead him down the street to the narrow gabled house where he lodged. Neither of them spoke, however; fury apparently beset them both equally, the kind of fury which is dumb, and all the more fierce because it finds no outlet in words.

Stoutenburg led the way up the wooden