<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></SPAN>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
<h3>THE START</h3>
<p>Once the door safely closed behind him, he heaved a deep sigh as if of
intense relief and he passed his hand quickly across his brow.</p>
<p>"By St. Bavon," he murmured, "my friend Diogenes, thou hast had to face
unpleasantness before now—those arquebusiers at Magdeburg were
difficult to withstand, those murderous blackguards in the forests of
Prague nearly had thy skin, but verdommt be thou, if thou hast had to
hold thy temper in bounds like this before. Dondersteen! how I could
have crushed that sharp-tongued young vixen till she cried for
mercy ... or silenced those venomous lips with a kiss!... I was sore
tempted indeed to give her real cause for calling me a knave...."</p>
<p>In the tap-room downstairs he found Pythagoras and Socrates curled up on
the floor in front of the hearth. They were fast asleep, and Diogenes
did not attempt to wake them. He had given them their orders for the
next day earlier in the evening and with the promise of 500 golden
guilders to be won by implicit obedience the two worthies were not like
to disobey.</p>
<p>He himself had his promise to his friend Hals to redeem ... the flight
along the frozen waterways back to Haarlem, a few hours spent in the
studio in the Peuselaarsteeg, then the return flight to rejoin his
compeers and the jongejuffrouw at the little hamlet of Houdekerk off the
main road; thither he had ordered them to proceed in the early morning
there to lie perdu until his return. Houdekerk lay to the east of
Leyden and so well off the beaten track that the little party would be
safely hidden there during the day;—he intended to be with them again
well before midnight of the next day. For the nonce he collected a few
necessary provisions which he had ordered to be ready for him—a half
bottle of wine, some meat and bread, then he made his way out of the
little hostelry and across the courtyard to the stables where the horses
had been put up. The night was singularly clear: the waning moon after
she had emerged from a bank of low-lying clouds, lit up the surrounding
landscape with a radiance that was intensely blue.</p>
<p>Groping his way about in the stables Diogenes found his saddle which he
himself had lifted off his horse, and from out the holster he drew a
pair of skates. With these hanging by their straps upon his arm, he left
the building behind him and turned to walk in the direction of the
river.</p>
<p>The little city lay quite peaceful and still under the weird brilliancy
of the moon which threw many-hued reflections on the snow-covered
surfaces of roofs and tall gables. It was piercingly cold, the silver
ribbon of the Rhyn wound its graceful course westward to the North Sea
and from beyond its opposite bank a biting wind swept across the dykes
and over the flat country around, chasing myriads of crisp snowflakes
from their rest and driving them in wanton frolic round and round into
little whirlpools of mist that glistened like the facets of diamonds.</p>
<p>Diogenes had walked briskly along; the skates upon his arm clicked at
every one of his movements with a pleasing metallic sound. He chose a
convenient spot on the river bank whereon to squat on the ground, and
fastened on his skates.</p>
<p>After which he rose and for a moment stood looking straight out
northwards before him. But a few leagues—half a dozen at most—lay
between him and Haarlem. The Rhyn as well as the innumerable small
polders and lakes had left—after the autumn floods—their usual trail
of narrow waterways behind them which, frozen over now, joining,
intersecting and rejoining again formed a perfect, uninterrupted road
from hence to the northern cities. It had been along these frozen ways
that the daring and patriotic citizens of Leyden had half a century ago
kept up communication with the outer world during the memorable siege
which had lasted throughout the winter, and it was by their help that
they were able to defy the mighty investing Spanish army by getting
provisions into the beleaguered city.</p>
<p>A young adventurer stood here now calmly measuring in his mind the
distance which he would have to traverse in the teeth of a piercing gale
and at dead of night in order to satisfy the ambition of a friend. It
was not the first time in his hazardous career that he had undertaken
such a journey. He was accustomed to take all risks in life with
indifference and good humour, the only thing that mattered was the
ultimate end: an exciting experience to go through, a goodly competence
to earn, a promise to fulfil.</p>
<p>Up above, the waning moon seemed to smile upon his enterprise; she lay
radiant and serene on her star-studded canopy of mysterious ethereal
indigo. Diogenes looked back on the little hostelry, which lay some
little distance up the street at right angles to the river bank. Was it
his fancy or one of those many mysterious reflections thrown by the
moon? but it certainly seemed to him as if a light still burned in one
of the upper windows.</p>
<p>The unpleasant interview with the jongejuffrouw had evidently not
weighed his spirits down, for to that distant light he now sent a loud
and merry farewell.</p>
<p>Then deliberately facing the bitter blast he struck out boldly along the
ice and started on his way.</p>
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