The Laughing Cavalier Baroness Orczy (bill gates books recommendations txt) 📖

“Mejuffrouw,” he said merrily, “is this abuse not unmerited? I did but obey your behests and see how I must suffer for mine obedience.”

But Gilda vouchsafed him no reply, and in the darkness he could not see if her face looked angered or smiling.

Ben Isaje, hearing the noise that went on outside his house, had already hastened to open the door. He welcomed the jongejuffrouw with obsequious bows. Behind him in the dark passage stood a lean and tousled-looking serving woman of uncertain years who was as obsequious as her master. When Gilda, confused and wearied, and mayhap not a little tired, advanced timorously into the narrow passage, the woman rushed up to her, and almost kneeling on the floor in the lowliness of her attitude, she kissed the jongejuffrouw’s hand.

Diogenes saw nothing more of Gilda and Maria after that. They vanished into the gloom up the ladder-like staircase, preceded by the tousled but amiable woman, who by her talk and clumsy attempts at service had already earned Maria’s fulsome contempt.

“You, too, must be hungry, sir,” murmured a smooth affable voice close to Diogenes’ elbow. “There is a bite and a drink ready for you; will you sup, sir, ere you go to bed?”

Before, however, following Ben Isaje into the shop Diogenes exchanged a few words with his brother philosophers, who, impassive and unquestioning, had escorted the jongejuffrouw to the door, and now stood there awaiting further orders. Diogenes suggested their getting supper and a bed in the hostelry at the top of the street in company with their driver; the horses too should all be stabled there.

“I am going to spend the night under this tumble-down roof,” he said, “but remember to sleep with one eye open and be prepared for a summons from me at any hour of the night or morning. Until that comes, however, do not leave the hostel. Care well for the horses, we may have need of them tomorrow. Good night! pleasant dreams! Do not forget that tomorrow five hundred guilders will fill each of your pockets. In the meanwhile here is the wherewithal to pay for bed and supper.”

He gave them some money and then watched the two quaint figures, the long one and the round one, until they were merged in the blackness of the narrow street. Then he went within. Ben Isaje once more closed and bolted the front door and the two men then went together into the shop.

Here an appetizing supper had been laid ready upon the table and a couple of tallow candles burned in pewter sconces.

Ben Isaje at once invited his guest to eat and drink.

“Not before we have settled our business together, master,” said the latter as he dragged a chair towards him, and sitting astride upon it, with his shapely legs thrust well out before him, he once more drew a paper from out the lining of his doublet.

“You are satisfied,” he resumed after a slight pause, “that the lady whom I have had the honour of bringing into your house is indeed the Jongejuffrouw Gilda Beresteyn, sister of your client Mynheer Nicolaes Beresteyn of Haarlem?”

“I am quite satisfied on that point,” replied the Jew, whose thin, bent form under the rigid folds of the black kaftan looked curiously weird in the feeble yellow light. His face was narrow and also waxlike in hue and the flickering candlelight threw quaint, distorted shadows around his long hooked nose.

“Then,” said Diogenes blandly while he held out a folded paper to Ben Isaje, “here is the bond signed by Mynheer Beresteyn wherein he orders you to pay me the sum of 3,000 guilders in consideration of the services which I have rendered him.”

But Ben Isaje did not take the paper thus held out to him.

“It is too late,” he said quietly, “to transact business tonight.”

“Too late!” exclaimed Diogenes with a blunt oath. “What in thunder do you mean?”

“I mean, sir, that you must try and curb your natural impatience until tomorrow.”

“But I will not curb mine impatience another moment, plepshurk,” cried the philosopher in a rage, “I have fulfilled my share of a bargain, ’tis only a verdommte Keerl who would shirk paying his own share on the nail.”

“Nor would Mynheer Beresteyn desire me to shirk his responsibilities, I assure you,” rejoined the Jew suavely, “and believe me, sir, that you will not lose one grote by waiting until the morrow. Let a good supper and a comfortable bed freely offered you atone for this unimportant delay. You still hold Mynheer Beresteyn’s bond: tomorrow at the first business hour you shall be paid.”

“But why any delay at all?” thundered Diogenes, who indeed misliked this way of doing business. “Why not pay me the money now?⁠—at once, I will gladly forego the supper and sit all night upon your doorstep, but have my money in my pocket.”

“Unfortunately, sir,” said Ben Isaje with imperturbable amiability, “I am quite helpless in the matter. I am not the sole master of this business, my wife’s brother shares my profits and my obligations. Neither of us is at liberty to pay out a large sum of money, save in the presence of the other.”

“You and your partner know how to trust one another,” said Diogenes with a laugh.

The Jew made no comment on this, only shrugged his shoulders in that calm manner peculiar to his race, which suggests the Oriental resignation to compelling fate.

Diogenes⁠—inwardly fuming⁠—thought over the matter very quietly for a few moments: it was obviously as useless to argue this matter out with Ben Isaje, as it had been to combat his dictum anent the jongejuffrouw spending the night under his roof, and as usual the wholesome lesson of life which the philosopher had learnt so thoroughly during his adventurous career stood him in good stead now: the lesson was the one which taught him never to waste time, temper or words over a purposeless argument.

That one shrug