bitterly cold," the woman moaned more feebly.

"Distinctly an uncomfortable place whereat to spend a night," rejoined
the philosopher, "I have slept there myself before now, so I know."

Seemingly he made an attempt to turn incontinently on his heel, for the
woman put out her hands and held on to his cloak.

"Father is crippled with ague, kind sir, he will die if he sleeps out
there to-night," she cried.

"I am afraid he will," said Diogenes blandly.

In the meanwhile, Pythagoras and Socrates, who evidently had not gone
very far, returned in order to see what was going on, on their friend's
doorstep. It was Pythagoras who first recognized the wench.

"Thunder and lightning," he exclaimed, "'tis the Papist!"

"Which Papist?" queried Diogenes.

"Yes, gentle sirs," said the woman piteously, "you rescued me nobly this
evening from that awful, howling mob. My father and I were able to go to
midnight mass in peace. May God reward you all. But," she added naively,
"'twas no good preventing those horrid men from killing us, if we are to
die from cold and hunger under the bridge of the canal."

All of which was not incomprehensible to the two men on the watch who
had heard a graphic account of the affray in Dam Straat as it was told
by Pythagoras in the tap-room of the "Lame Cow." And they both drew a
little nearer so as not to lose a word of the scene which they were
watching with ever growing interest. Neither of them attempted to
interfere in it, however, though Beresteyn at any rate could have poured
many a guilder in the hands of those two starving wretches, without
being any the poorer himself and though he was in truth not a
hard-hearted man.

"The wench is right," now said Diogenes firmly, "the life which we
helped to save, we must not allow to be frittered away. I talked
of stockings, girl," he added lightly, "but I see thy feet are
bare.... Brrr! I freeze when I look at thee...."

"For a quarter guilder father and I could find a lodging...."

"But Dondersteen!" he exclaimed, "did I not tell thee that I have not
one kreutzer in my wallet, and unless my friends can help thee...."

"Diogenes thou speakest trash," interposed Pythagoras softly.

"We must both starve of cold this night," moaned the woman in despair.

"Nay ye shall not!" said Diogenes with sudden decision. "There is a room
in this very house which has been paid for three nights in advance. Go
to it, wench, 'tis at the very top of the stairs,