and I have missed
to-night owing to your d----d nonsense," said Socrates, who was more
sulky now than he had been before he went to sleep.

Pythagoras uttered a prolonged sigh and gazed meditatively down into the
depths of his mug of ale. Gutter-rat and the others looked inquiringly
from one philosopher to the other.

"Diogenes been at his tricks again?" asked Gutter-rat.

Socrates and Pythagoras nodded in their gloomy response.

"Gallantry, eh? some beauteous damsel, to succour whom we throw our
life, our best chances away?" continued the other with ironical
sympathy, the while Diogenes' entire face was wreathed in one huge,
all-embracing smile. Gutter-rat admonished him with solemn voice and
uplifted finger.

"Conduct unworthy a philosopher," he said.

"If he had only injured himself," growled Socrates.

"And let us enjoy the gifts which a beneficent goddess was ready to pour
into our lap," added Pythagoras dulcetly from the floor.

"Let's hear the story," concluded Gutter-rat.

The others clapped their mugs against the table-top and shouted: "The
story! the story!" to the accompaniment of din that drowned all other
noises in the room.

Pythagoras from his lowly position began his narrative in a faint,
injured tone of voice. He related the incidents of this night from the
moment when the chance of possessing oneself with but little trouble of
a tulip bulb worth fifteen thousand florins was so airily flouted, down
to the awful moment when a young and beauteous lady made offers of
influence and of money which were equally airily refused.

Gutter-rat and the others listened attentively. They specially relished
the exciting incidents connected with the affray in Dam Straat, the
breaking of Jan Tiele's nose and the dispersal of the mob with the aid
of a lighted torch.

"Bravo! splendid!" they shouted at intervals and loudly expressed their
regret at having missed such furious fun.

Socrates threw in a word or two now and then, when Pythagoras did not
fully explain his own valorous position in the fight, but Diogenes said
nothing at all; he allowed his comrade to tell the tale his own way; the
recollection of it seemed to afford him vast amusement for he hummed a
lively tune to himself all the while.

Pythagoras now was mimicking his friend, throwing into this performance
all the disgust which he felt.

"Raise thy hand to my lips, mejuffrouw," he said mincing his words,
"momentarily I have not the use of