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

night as maybe⁠—she and her attendant too. I have a serving woman here who will see to the beds and the supper. Then tomorrow I can send a messenger to my private house to prepare my wife the moment she arrives, against the coming of the jongejuffrouw. ’Tis situate but half a league from here, and she would then be sure of a welcome equal to her worth.”

Then as Diogenes was silent⁠—since he felt perplexed and anxious at this unlooked-for turn of events and this first check to his plans⁠—Ben Isaje continued with even greater affability than heretofore:

“Indeed, sir, and is it not better for the lady’s own comfort? She will be overfatigued when she arrives, and delighted⁠—I know⁠—at finding a nice bed and supper ready for her. Is it not all for the best?” he reiterated pleasantly.

But Diogenes was not satisfied. He did not like the idea of losing sight of Gilda altogether, quite so soon.

“I do not care to leave the jongejuffrouw,” he said, “until I see her safely on her way to your house.”

“Nor need you leave her, sir. There is a small room at the back of this shop, to which you are heartily welcome for the night. It is usually occupied by some of my guard, but they can dispose themselves in other rooms in the house. They are sturdy fellows, sir, and well-armed,” continued the Jew, not without significance, “and I trust that they will not disturb you with their noise. Otherwise, sir, you are most welcome to sleep and sup under this roof.”

Diogenes murmured vague thanks. Indeed, he was not a little troubled in his mind. The plans which he had formed for the second abduction of Gilda would prove more difficult of execution than he had supposed. The Jew had more than the customary prudence of his race, and Beresteyn had made that prudence and the measures which it suggested a condition of payment.

Between the prudence of Beresteyn and that of Ben Isaje, it was difficult to see how an adventurous plan could succeed. Three philosophers against a picked guard of ten men, with two more to keep watch outside the door, did not seem a promising venture. But Diogenes would not have been the happy-go-lucky soldier of fortune that he was, had he paused for long at this juncture in order to brood over likely failure, or had he not been willing to allow Chance a goodly share in the working out of his destiny.

It certainly was useless to argue any of these matters further with Ben Isaje; fate had willed it that the philosopher should spend this night under the same roof as the jongejuffrouw with a watch of twelve picked men⁠—not counting the Jew himself⁠—set over him, and to rebel against that fate now were puerile and useless.

So he murmured more audible thanks for the proffered hospitality, and put on as good-humoured an air over the matter as he could.

From the distance now there came the sound of jingling bells and the clatter of horses’ hoofs upon the cobblestones of the streets.

“ ’Tis the jongejuffrouw,” exclaimed Diogenes, springing to his feet.

“The sledge cannot turn into this narrow way,” rejoined Ben Isaje, “will you go meet the lady, sir, at the top of the street where she must needs dismount, and escort her hither, while I go to give orders to the serving woman. Your men,” he added, as Diogenes at once rose and went to the door, “and the horses can put up at the hostelry close by where no doubt they have halted even now.”

But already Diogenes was half way down the passage; soon he was at the front door fumbling in the dark for the heavy bolts. Ben Isaje followed him more deliberately, lantern in hand. He unlocked the door, and the next moment Diogenes was once more out in the street, walking rapidly in the direction whence came the occasional pleasing sound of the tinkling of sleigh-bells.

XXIX Check Again

Though the jongejuffrouw seemed inexpressibly tired and weak, her attitude toward Diogenes lost nothing of its cold aloofness. She was peeping out under the hood of the sledge when he approached it, and at sight of him she immediately drew in her head.

“Will you deign to descend, mejuffrouw,” he said with that slight tone of good-humoured mockery in his voice which had the power to irritate her. “Mynheer Ben Isaje, whose hospitality you will enjoy this night, lives some way up this narrow, insalubrious street, and he has bidden me to escort you to his house.”

Silently, and with a great show of passive obedience, Gilda made ready to step out of the sledge.

“Come, Maria,” she said curtly.

“The road is very slippery, mejuffrouw,” he added warningly, “will you not permit me⁠—for your own convenience’ sake⁠—to carry you as far as Ben Isaje’s door?”

“It would not be for my convenience, sir,” she retorted haughtily, “an you are so chivalrously inclined perhaps you would kindly convey my waiting woman thither in your arms.”

“At your service, mejuffrouw,” he said with imperturbable good temper.

And without more ado, despite her screams and her struggles, he seized Maria round her ample waist and round her struggling knees at the moment that she was stepping out of the sledge in the wake of her mistress.

The lamp outside the hostel at the corner illumined for a moment Gilda’s pale, wearied face, and Diogenes saw that she was trying her best to suppress an insistent outburst of laughter.

“Hey there!” he shouted, “Pythagoras, Socrates, follow the jongejuffrouw at a respectful distance and see that no harm come to her while I lead the way with this featherweight in my arms.”

Nor did he deposit Maria to the ground until he reached the door of Ben Isaje’s house; here, when the mevrouw began to belabour him with her tongue and with her fists, he turned appealingly