those with which, ten minutes before, his colleague had been
received.
This did not prevent him from undertaking the difficult task
of haranguing the mob; but the mob preferred forcing the
guard of the States — which, however, offered no resistance
to the sovereign people — to listening to the speech of
Mynheer d’Asperen.
“Now, then,” the young man coolly remarked, whilst the crowd
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Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip
was rushing into the principal gate of the Town-hall, “it
seems the question will be discussed indoors, Captain. Come
along, and let us hear the debate.”
“Oh, Monseigneur! Monseigneur! take care!”
“Of what?”
“Among these deputies there are many who have had dealings
with you, and it would be sufficient, that one of them
should recognize your Highness.”
“Yes, that I might be charged with having been the
instigator of all this work, indeed, you are right,” said
the young man, blushing for a moment from regret of having
betrayed so much eagerness. “From this place we shall see
them return with or without the order for the withdrawal of
the dragoons, then we may judge which is greater, Mynheer
Bowelt’s honesty or his courage.”
“But,” replied the officer, looking with astonishment at the
personage whom he addressed as Monseigneur, “but your
Highness surely does not suppose for one instant that the
deputies will order Tilly’s horse to quit their post?”
“Why not?” the young man quietly retorted.
“Because doing so would simply be signing the death warrant
of Cornelius and John de Witt.”
“We shall see,” his Highness replied, with the most perfect
coolness; “God alone knows what is going on within the
hearts of men.”
The officer looked askance at the impassible figure of his
companion, and grew pale: he was an honest man as well as a
brave one.
From the spot where they stood, his Highness and his
attendant heard the tumult and the heavy tramp of the crowd
on the staircase of the Town-hall. The noise thereupon
sounded through the windows of the hall, on the balcony of
which Mynheers Bowelt and D’Asperen had presented
themselves. These two gentlemen had retired into the
building, very likely from fear of being forced over the
balustrade by the pressure of the crowd.
After this, fluctuating shadows in tumultuous confusion were
seen flitting to and fro across the windows: the council
hall was filling.
Suddenly the noise subsided, and as suddenly again it rose
with redoubled intensity, and at last reached such a pitch
that the old building shook to the very roof.
At length, the living stream poured back through the
galleries and stairs to the arched gateway, from which it
was seen issuing like waters from a spout.
At the head of the first group, man was flying rather than
running, his face hideously distorted with satanic glee:
this man was the surgeon Tyckelaer.
“We have it! we have it!” he cried, brandishing a paper in
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Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip
the air.
“They have got the order!” muttered the officer in
amazement.
“Well, then,” his Highness quietly remarked, “now I know
what to believe with regard to Mynheer Bowelt’s honesty and
courage: he has neither the one nor the other.”
Then, looking with a steady glance after the crowd which was
rushing along before him, he continued, —
“Let us now go to the Buytenhof, Captain; I expect we shall
see a very strange sight there.”
The officer bowed, and, without making any reply, followed
in the steps of his master.
There was an immense crowd in the square and about the
neighbourhood of the prison. But the dragoons of Tilly still
kept it in check with the same success and with the same
firmness.
It was not long before the Count heard the increasing din of
the approaching multitude, the first ranks of which rushed
on with the rapidity of a cataract.
At the same time he observed the paper, which was waving
above the surface of clenched fists and glittering arms.
“Halloa!” he said, rising in his stirrups, and touching his
lieutenant with the knob of his sword; “I really believe
those rascals have got the order.”
“Dastardly ruffians they are,” cried the lieutenant.