from Hals he rose and, hat in hand, did indeed
approach Mynheer Beresteyn, looking every inch of him a perfect
embodiment of that spirit of adventure which was threatening to be
wafted away from these too prosperous shores. His tall figure looked of
heroic proportions in this low room and by contrast with the small,
somewhat obese burghers who still sat close to Cornelius, having
listened in silence to the latter's colloquy with the artist. His bright
eyes twinkled, his moustache bristled, his lips quivered with the
enjoyment of the situation. The grace and elegance of his movements,
born of conscious strength, added dignity to his whole personality.

"My friend hath name Diogenes," said Frans Hals, whose romantic
disposition revelled in this presentation, "but there's little of the
philosopher about him. He is a man of action, an invincible swordsman,
a----"

"Dondersteen, my good Hals!" ejaculated Diogenes gaily, "you'll shame me
before these gentlemen."

"There's naught to be ashamed of, sir, in the eulogy of a friend," said
Cornelius Beresteyn with quiet dignity, "and 'tis a pleasure to an old
man like me to look on one so well favoured as yourself. Ah, sir! 'tis
but sorrow that I shall know in future.... My daughter ... you have
heard...?"

"I know the trouble that weighs on your soul, mynheer," replied Diogenes
simply.

"You have heard then what your friend says of you?" continued the
old man, whose tear-dimmed eyes gleamed with the new-born flicker
of hope. "Our good Hals is enthusiastic, romantic ... mayhap he hath
exaggerated ... hath in fact been mistaken...."

It was sadly pathetic to see the unfortunate father so obviously
hovering 'twixt hope and fear, his hands trembled, there was an appeal
in his broken voice, an appeal that he should not be deceived, that he

should not be thrown back from the giddy heights of hope to the former
deep abyss of despair.

"My daughter, sir ..." he murmured feebly, "she is all the world to
me ... her mother died when she was a baby ... she is all the world
to me ... they have taken her from me ... she is so young, sir ... so
beautiful ... she is all the world to me ... I would give half my
fortune to have her back safely in my arms...."

There was silence in the quaint old-world place after that--silence only
broken by the suppressed sobs of the unfortunate man who had lost his
only daughter. The others sat round the table, saying no word, for the
pathos evoked