Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

glistening like carbuncles, and shaking his chain, on which

the double light from the lamp of Rosa and the lantern of

Gryphus threw a brilliant glitter.

The sublime master would, however, have been altogether

unable to render the sorrow expressed in the face of Rosa,

when she saw this pale, handsome young man slowly climbing

the stairs, and thought of the full import of the words,

which her father had just spoken, “You will have the family

cell.”

This vision lasted but a moment, — much less time than we

have taken to describe it. Gryphus then proceeded on his

way, Cornelius was forced to follow him, and five minutes

afterwards he entered his prison, of which it is unnecessary

to say more, as the reader is already acquainted with it.

Gryphus pointed with his finger to the bed on which the

martyr had suffered so much, who on that day had rendered

his soul to God. Then, taking up his cresset, he quitted the

cell.

Thus left alone, Cornelius threw himself on his bed, but he

slept not, he kept his eye fixed on the narrow window,

barred with iron, which looked on the Buytenhof; and in this

way saw from behind the trees that first pale beam of light

which morning sheds on the earth as a white mantle.

Now and then during the night horses had galloped at a smart

pace over the Buytenhof, the heavy tramp of the patrols had

resounded from the pavement, and the slow matches of the

arquebuses, flaring in the east wind, had thrown up at

intervals a sudden glare as far as to the panes of his

window.

But when the rising sun began to gild the coping stones at

the gable ends of the houses, Cornelius, eager to know

whether there was any living creature about him, approached

the window, and cast a sad look round the circular yard

before him

At the end of the yard a dark mass, tinted with a dingy blue

by the morning dawn, rose before him, its dark outlines

standing out in contrast to the houses already illuminated

by the pale light of early morning.

Cornelius recognised the gibbet.

On it were suspended two shapeless trunks, which indeed were

no more than bleeding skeletons.

The good people of the Hague had chopped off the flesh of

its victims, but faithfully carried the remainder to the

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Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

gibbet, to have a pretext for a double inscription written

on a huge placard, on which Cornelius; with the keen sight

of a young man of twenty-eight, was able to read the

following lines, daubed by the coarse brush of a

sign-painter: —

“Here are hanging the great rogue of the name of John de

Witt, and the little rogue Cornelius de Witt, his brother,

two enemies of the people, but great friends of the king of

France.”

Cornelius uttered a cry of horror, and in the agony of his

frantic terror knocked with his hands and feet at the door

so violently and continuously, that Gryphus, with his huge

bunch of keys in his hand, ran furiously up.

The jailer opened the door, with terrible imprecations

against the prisoner who disturbed him at an hour which

Master Gryphus was not accustomed to be aroused.

“Well, now, by my soul, he is mad, this new De Witt,” he

cried, “but all those De Witts have the devil in them.”

“Master, master,” cried Cornelius, seizing the jailer by the

arm and dragging him towards the window, — “master, what

have I read down there?”

“Where down there?”

“On that placard.”

And, trembling, pale, and gasping for breath, he pointed to

the gibbet at the other side of the yard, with the cynical

inscription surmounting it.

Gryphus broke out into a laugh.

“Eh! eh!” he answered, “so, you have read it. Well, my good

sir, that’s what people will get for corresponding with the

enemies of his Highness the Prince of Orange.”

“The brothers De Witt are murdered!” Cornelius muttered,

with the cold sweat on his brow, and sank on his bed, his

arms hanging by his side, and his eyes closed.

“The brothers De Witt have been judged by the people,” said