The next moment the interested spectators of this stirring little scene beheld the three philosophers once more standing together at the corner of the street under the feebly flickering lamp and the slowly falling snow; the door of the lodging-house had been slammed to behind them and the muffled heads had disappeared from out the framework of the windows above.
"And now, perhaps you will tell us what you are going to do," said Pythagoras in flute-like tones.
"There is not a bed vacant in the dormitory where I sleep," said Socrates.
"Nor would I desire to sleep in one of those kennels fit only for dogs which I cannot imagine how you both can stomach," quoth Diogenes lightly; "the close proximity of Pythagoras and yourself and of all those who are most like you in the world would chase pleasing sleep from mine eyelids. I prefer the Canal."
"You cannot sleep out of doors in this h——l of a cold night," growled Socrates.
"And I cannot go back to the 'Lame Cow' for I have not a kreutzer left in my wallet wherewith to pay for a sip."
"Then what the d——l are you going to do?" reiterated Pythagoras plaintively.
"I have a friend," said Diogenes after a slight pause.
"Hm?" was the somewhat dubious comment on this fairly simple statement.
"He will give me breakfast early in the morning."