ence ... so I understand. But surely at
your age, and--if you will pardon mine outspokenness--with your looks,
sir, women or mayhap one woman must play some part in your dreams of the
future."

"Women, sir," retorted Diogenes dryly, "should never play a leading
role in the comedy of a philosopher's life. As a means to an
end--perhaps ... the final denouement...."

"Always that one aim I see--a desire for complete independence which the
possession of wealth alone can give."

"Always," replied the other curtly.

"And beyond that desire, what is your chief ambition, sir?"

"To be left alone when I have no mind to talk," said Diogenes with a
smile which was so pleasant, so merry, so full of self-deprecating irony
that it tempered the incivility of his reply.

Again the other bit his lip, checking an angry word; for some
unexplained reason he appeared determined not to quarrel with this
insolent young knave. The others stared at their friend in utter
astonishment.

"What fly hath bitten Beresteyn's ear?" whispered one of them under his
breath. "I have never known him so civil to a stranger or so unwilling
to take offence."

Certainly the other man's good humour did not seem to have abated one
jot; after an imperceptible moment's pause, he rejoined with perfect
suavity:

"You do not belie your name, sir, I heard your friends calling you
Diogenes, and I feel proud that you should look on me as Alexander and
call on me to stand out of your sunshine."

"I crave your pardon, sir," said Diogenes somewhat more seriously, "my
incivility is unwarrantable in the face of your courtesy. No doubt it
had its origin in the fact that like my namesake I happened to want
nothing at the moment. To-morrow, sir, an you are minded to pay for my
services, to ask for my sword, my soul or my wits, and in exchange will
offer me the chance of winning a fortune or of marrying a wife who is
both rich and comely, why sir, I shall be your man, and will e'en
endeavour to satisfy you with the politeness of my speech and the
promptness and efficiency of my deeds. To-morrow, sir, you and the devil
will have an equal chance of purchasing my soul for a few thousand
guilders, my wits for a paltry hundred, my skin for a good supper and a
downy bed--to-morrow the desire will seize me once again to possess
wealth at any cost, and my friends here will have no cause to complain
of my playing a part which becomes a penniless wastrel like myself so
ill--t