Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

inestimable treasure, let himself out by the window, glided

down the ladder, carried it back to the place whence he had

taken it, and, like a beast of prey, returned growling to

his house.

Chapter 9

The Family Cell

It was about midnight when poor Van Baerle was locked up in

the prison of the Buytenhof.

What Rosa foresaw had come to pass. On finding the cell of

Cornelius de Witt empty, the wrath of the people ran very

high, and had Gryphus fallen into the hands of those madmen

he would certainly have had to pay with his life for the

prisoner.

But this fury had vented itself most fully on the two

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brothers when they were overtaken by the murderers, thanks

to the precaution which William — the man of precautions —

had taken in having the gates of the city closed.

A momentary lull had therefore set in whilst the prison was

empty, and Rosa availed herself of this favourable moment to

come forth from her hiding place, which she also induced her

father to leave.

The prison was therefore completely deserted. Why should

people remain in the jail whilst murder was going on at the

Tol-Hek?

Gryphus came forth trembling behind the courageous Rosa.

They went to close the great gate, at least as well as it

would close, considering that it was half demolished. It was

easy to see that a hurricane of mighty fury had vented

itself upon it.

About four o’clock a return of the noise was heard, but of

no threatening character to Gryphus and his daughter. The

people were only dragging in the two corpses, which they

came back to gibbet at the usual place of execution.

Rosa hid herself this time also, but only that she might not

see the ghastly spectacle.

At midnight, people again knocked at the gate of the jail,

or rather at the barricade which served in its stead: it was

Cornelius van Baerle whom they were bringing.

When the jailer received this new inmate, and saw from the

warrant the name and station of his prisoner, he muttered

with his turnkey smile, —

“Godson of Cornelius de Witt! Well, young man, we have the

family cell here, and we will give it to you.”

And quite enchanted with his joke, the ferocious Orangeman

took his cresset and his keys to conduct Cornelius to the

cell, which on that very morning Cornelius de Witt had left

to go into exile, or what in revolutionary times is meant

instead by those sublime philosophers who lay it down as an

axiom of high policy, “It is the dead only who do not

return.”

On the way which the despairing florist had to traverse to

reach that cell he heard nothing but the barking of a dog,

and saw nothing but the face of a young girl.

The dog rushed forth from a niche in the wall, shaking his

heavy chain, and sniffing all round Cornelius in order so

much the better to recognise him in case he should be

ordered to pounce upon him.

The young girl, whilst the prisoner was mounting the

staircase, appeared at the narrow door of her chamber, which

opened on that very flight of steps; and, holding the lamp

in her right hand, she at the same time lit up her pretty

blooming face, surrounded by a profusion of rich wavy golden

locks, whilst with her left she held her white night-dress

closely over her breast, having been roused from her first

slumber by the unexpected arrival of Van Baerle.

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It would have made a fine picture, worthy of Rembrandt, the

gloomy winding stairs illuminated by the reddish glare of

the cresset of Gryphus, with his scowling jailer’s

countenance at the top, the melancholy figure of Cornelius

bending over the banister to look down upon the sweet face

of Rosa, standing, as it were, in the bright frame of the

door of her chamber, with embarrassed mien at being thus

seen by a stranger.

And at the bottom, quite in the shade, where the details are

absorbed in the obscurity, the mastiff, with his eyes