Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

his head, just as the broken gate gave admittance to the

populace.

The dungeon where Rosa had induced her father to hide

himself, and where for the present we must leave the two,

offered to them a perfectly safe retreat, being known only

to those in power, who used to place there important

prisoners of state, to guard against a rescue or a revolt.

The people rushed into the prison, with the cry —

“Death to the traitors! To the gallows with Cornelius de

Witt! Death! death!”

Chapter 4

The Murderers

The young man with his hat slouched over his eyes, still

leaning on the arm of the officer, and still wiping from

time to time his brow with his handkerchief, was watching in

a corner of the Buytenhof, in the shade of the overhanging

weather-board of a closed shop, the doings of the infuriated

mob, a spectacle which seemed to draw near its catastrophe.

“Indeed,” said he to the officer, “indeed, I think you were

right, Van Deken; the order which the deputies have signed

is truly the death-warrant of Master Cornelius. Do you hear

these people? They certainly bear a sad grudge to the two De

Witts.”

“In truth,” replied the officer, “I never heard such

shouts.”

“They seem to have found out the cell of the man. Look,

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Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

look! is not that the window of the cell where Cornelius was

locked up?”

A man had seized with both hands and was shaking the iron

bars of the window in the room which Cornelius had left only

ten minutes before.

“Halloa, halloa!” the man called out, “he is gone.”

“How is that? gone?” asked those of the mob who had not been

able to get into the prison, crowded as it was with the mass

of intruders.

“Gone, gone,” repeated the man in a rage, “the bird has

flown.”

“What does this man say?” asked his Highness, growing quite

pale.

“Oh, Monseigneur, he says a thing which would be very

fortunate if it should turn out true!”

“Certainly it would be fortunate if it were true,” said the

young man; “unfortunately it cannot be true.”

“However, look!” said the officer.

And indeed, some more faces, furious and contorted with

rage, showed themselves at the windows, crying, —

“Escaped, gone, they have helped them off!”

And the people in the street repeated, with fearful

imprecations, —

“Escaped gone! After them, and catch them!”

“Monseigneur, it seems that Mynheer Cornelius has really

escaped,” said the officer.

“Yes, from prison, perhaps, but not from the town; you will

see, Van Deken, that the poor fellow will find the gate

closed against him which he hoped to find open.”

“Has an order been given to close the town gates,

Monseigneur?”

“No, — at least I do not think so; who could have given

such an order?”

“Indeed, but what makes your Highness suppose?”

“There are fatalities,” Monseigneur replied, in an offhand

manner; “and the greatest men have sometimes fallen victims

to such fatalities.”

At these words the officer felt his blood run cold, as

somehow or other he was convinced that the prisoner was

lost.

At this moment the roar of the multitude broke forth like

thunder, for it was now quite certain that Cornelius de Witt

was no longer in the prison.

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Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

Cornelius and John, after driving along the pond, had taken

the main street, which leads to the Tol-Hek, giving

directions to the coachman to slacken his pace, in order not

to excite any suspicion.

But when, on having proceeded half-way down that street, the

man felt that he had left the prison and death behind, and

before him there was life and liberty, he neglected every

precaution, and set his horses off at a gallop.

All at once he stopped.

“What is the matter?” asked John, putting his head out of

the coach window.

“Oh, my masters!” cried the coachman, “it is —- ”

Terror choked the voice of the honest fellow.

“Well, say what you have to say!” urged the Grand

Pensionary.

“The gate is closed, that’s what it is.”

“How is this? It is not usual to close the gate by day.”