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Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

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.

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Categories: Dumas, Alexandre
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