So they began to play, and as the game was simple very soon he picked up the points of it, and what is more, found them amusing.  At first the stakes were not high, but they doubled themselves in some automatic fashion, till Dirk was astonished to find that he was gambling for considerable sums and winning them.  Towards the last his luck changed a little, but when the game came to an end he found himself the richer by about three hundred and fifty florins.

“What am I do to with this?” he asked colouring up, as with sighs, which in one instance were genuine enough, the losers pushed the money across to him.

“Do with it?” laughed Montalvo, “did anybody ever hear such an innocent!  Why, buy your lady-love, or somebody else’s lady-love, a present.  No, I’ll tell you a better use than this, you give us to-morrow night at your lodging the best dinner that Leyden can produce, and a chance of winning some of this coin back again.  Is it agreed?”

“If the other gentlemen wish it,” said Dirk, modestly, “though my apartment is but a poor place for such company.”

“Of course we wish it,” replied the three as with one voice, and the hour for meeting having been fixed they parted, the Heer Brant walking with Dirk to the door of his lodging.

“I was going to call on you to-morrow,” he said, “to bring to you a letter of introduction from my father, though that should scarcely be needed as, in fact, we are cousins—­second cousins only, our mothers having been first cousins.”

“Oh! yes, Brant of The Hague, of whom my mother used to speak, saying that they were kinsmen to be proud of, although she had met them but little.  Well, welcome, cousin; I trust that we shall be friends.”

“I am sure of it,” answered Brant, and putting his arm through Dirk’s he pressed it in a peculiar fashion that caused him to start and look round.  “Hush!” muttered Brant, “not here,” and they began to talk of their late companions and the game of cards which they had played, an amusement as to the propriety of which Dirk intimated that he had doubts.

Young Brant shrugged his shoulders.  “Cousin,” he said, “we live in the world, so it is as well to understand the world.  If the risking of a few pieces at play, which it will not ruin us to lose, helps us to understand it, well, for my part I am ready to risk them, especially as it puts us on good terms with those who, as things are, it is wise we should cultivate.  Only, cousin, if I may venture to say it, be careful not to take more wine than you can carry with discretion.  Better lose a thousand florins than let drop one word that you cannot remember.”

“I know, I know,” answered Dirk, thinking of Lysbeth’s supper, and at the door of his lodgings they parted.