to go out of
Haarlem by its north gate and to have progressed toward Groningen for a
quarter of an hour or so, leaving traces behind him which Nicolaes
Beresteyn would no doubt know how to interpret in favour of the
"sea-wolves" theory. He could also afford to think with equanimity now
of Pythagoras and Socrates in charge of the jongejuffrouw lying
comfortably perdu at a wayside inn, situated fully thirteen leagues to
the south of the nearest inland lair, which was known to be the halting
place of the notorious sea-robbers.

Indeed, his act of friendship in devoting his day to the interests of
Frans Hals had already obtained its reward, for he had gathered valuable
information, and his journey to Rotterdam would in consequence be vastly
more easy to plan.

No wonder that Frans Hals as he worked on the picture felt he had never
had such a sitter before; the thoughts within redolent of fun, of
amusement at the situation, of eagerness for the continuation of the
adventure seemed to bubble and to sparkle out of the eyes, the lines of
quiet humour, of gentle irony appeared ever mobile, ever quivering
around the mouth.

For many hours that day hardly a word passed between the two men while
the masterpiece was in progress, which was destined to astonish and
delight the whole world for centuries to come. They hardly paused a
quarter of an hour during the day to snatch a morsel of food; Hals,
imbued with the spirit of genius, begrudged every minute not spent in
work and Diogenes, having given his time to his friend, was prepared
that the gift should be a full measure.

Only at four o'clock when daylight faded, and the twilight began to
merge the gorgeous figure of the sitter into one dull, grey harmony, did
the artist at last throw down brushes and palette with a sigh of
infinite satisfaction.

"It is good," he said, as with eyes half-closed he took a final survey
of his sitter and compared the living model with his own immortal work.

"Have you had enough of me?" asked Diogenes.

"No. Not half enough. I would like to make a fresh start on a new
portrait of you at once. I would try one of those effects of light of
which Rembrandt thinks that he hath the monopoly, but which I would show
him how to treat without so much artificiality."

He continued talking of technicalities, rambling on in his usual
fretful, impatient way, while Diogenes stretched out his cramped limbs,
and rubbed his tired eyes.

"Can I undress now?