energy. He evidently had his good reasons for not making
himself known, as he hid his face in a handkerchief of fine
Frisian linen, with which he incessantly wiped his brow or
his burning lips.
With an eye keen as that of a bird of prey, — with a long
aquiline nose, a finely cut mouth, which he generally kept
open, or rather which was gaping like the edges of a wound,
— this man would have presented to Lavater, if Lavater had
lived at that time, a subject for physiognomical
observations which at the first blush would not have been
very favourable to the person in question.
“What difference is there between the figure of the
conqueror and that of the pirate?” said the ancients. The
difference only between the eagle and the vulture, —
serenity or restlessness.
And indeed the sallow physiognomy, the thin and sickly body,
and the prowling ways of the stranger, were the very type of
a suspecting master, or an unquiet thief; and a police
officer would certainly have decided in favour of the latter
supposition, on account of the great care which the
mysterious person evidently took to hide himself.
He was plainly dressed, and apparently unarmed; his arm was
lean but wiry, and his hands dry, but of an aristocratic
whiteness and delicacy, and he leaned on the shoulder of an
officer, who, with his hand on his sword, had watched the
scenes in the Buytenhof with eager curiosity, very natural
in a military man, until his companion drew him away with
him.
On arriving at the square of the Hoogstraet, the man with
the sallow face pushed the other behind an open shutter,
from which corner he himself began to survey the balcony of
the Town-hall.
At the savage yells of the mob, the window of the Town-hall
opened, and a man came forth to address the people.
“Who is that on the balcony?” asked the young man, glancing
at the orator.
“It is the Deputy Bowelt,” replied the officer.
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Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip
“What sort of a man is he? Do you know anything of him?”
“An honest man; at least I believe so, Monseigneur.”
Hearing this character given of Bowelt, the young man showed
signs of such a strange disappointment and evident
dissatisfaction that the officer could not but remark it,
and therefore added, —
“At least people say so, Monseigneur. I cannot say anything
about it myself, as I have no personal acquaintance with
Mynheer Bowelt.”
“An honest man,” repeated he who was addressed as
Monseigneur; “do you mean to say that he is an honest man
(brave homme), or a brave one (homme brave)?”
“Ah, Monseigneur must excuse me; I would not presume to draw
such a fine distinction in the case of a man whom, I assure
your Highness once more, I know only by sight.”
“If this Bowelt is an honest man,” his Highness continued,
“he will give to the demand of these furibund petitioners a
very queer reception.”
The nervous quiver of his hand, which moved on the shoulder
of his companion as the fingers of a player on the keys of a
harpsichord, betrayed his burning impatience, so ill
concealed at certain times, and particularly at that moment,
under the icy and sombre expression of his face.
The chief of the deputation of the burghers was then heard
addressing an interpellation to Mynheer Bowelt, whom he
requested to let them know where the other deputies, his
colleagues, were.
“Gentlemen,” Bowelt repeated for the second time, “I assure
you that in this moment I am here alone with Mynheer
d’Asperen, and I cannot take any resolution on my own
responsibility.”
“The order! we want the order!” cried several thousand
voices.
Mynheer Bowelt wished to speak, but his words were not
heard, and he was only seen moving his arms in all sorts of
gestures, which plainly showed that he felt his position to
be desperate. When, at last, he saw that he could not make
himself heard, he turned round towards the open window, and
called Mynheer d’Asperen.
The latter gentleman now made his appearance on the balcony,
where he was saluted with shouts even more energetic than