actual aid; and he was calculating how long the formalities
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Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip
of the law would still detain him in prison.
This was just at the very moment when the mingled shouts of
the burgher guard and of the mob were raging against the two
brothers, and threatening Captain Tilly, who served as a
rampart to them. This noise, which roared outside of the
walls of the prison, as the surf dashing against the rocks,
now reached the ears of the prisoner.
But, threatening as it sounded, Cornelius appeared not to
deem it worth his while to inquire after its cause; nor did
he get up to look out of the narrow grated window, which
gave access to the light and to the noise of the world
without.
He was so absorbed in his never-ceasing pain that it had
almost become a habit with him. He felt with such delight
the bonds which connected his immortal being with his
perishable frame gradually loosening, that it seemed to him
as if his spirit, freed from the trammels of the body, were
hovering above it, like the expiring flame which rises from
the half-extinguished embers.
He also thought of his brother; and whilst the latter was
thus vividly present to his mind the door opened, and John
entered, hurrying to the bedside of the prisoner, who
stretched out his broken limbs and his hands tied up in
bandages towards that glorious brother, whom he now
excelled, not in services rendered to the country, but in
the hatred which the Dutch bore him.
John tenderly kissed his brother on the forehead, and put
his sore hands gently back on the mattress.
“Cornelius, my poor brother, you are suffering great pain,
are you not?”
“I am suffering no longer, since I see you, my brother.”
“Oh, my poor dear Cornelius! I feel most wretched to see you
in such a state.”
“And, indeed, I have thought more of you than of myself; and
whilst they were torturing me, I never thought of uttering a
complaint, except once, to say, ‘Poor brother!’ But now that
you are here, let us forget all. You are coming to take me
away, are you not?”
“I am.”
“I am quite healed; help me to get up, and you shall see how
I can walk.”
“You will not have to walk far, as I have my coach near the
pond, behind Tilly’s dragoons.”
“Tilly’s dragoons! What are they near the pond for?”
“Well,” said the Grand Pensionary with a melancholy smile
which was habitual to him, “the gentlemen at the Town-hall
expect that the people at the Hague would like to see you
depart, and there is some apprehension of a tumult.”
“Of a tumult?” replied Cornelius, fixing his eyes on his
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Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip
perplexed brother; “a tumult?”
“Yes, Cornelius.”
“Oh! that’s what I heard just now,” said the prisoner, as if
speaking to himself. Then, turning to his brother, he
continued, —
“Are there many persons down before the prison.”
“Yes, my brother, there are.”
“But then, to come here to me —- ”
“Well?”
“How is it that they have allowed you to pass?”
“You know well that we are not very popular, Cornelius,”
said the Grand Pensionary, with gloomy bitterness. “I have
made my way through all sorts of bystreets and alleys.”
“You hid yourself, John?”
“I wished to reach you without loss of time, and I did what
people will do in politics, or on the sea when the wind is
against them, — I tacked.”
At this moment the noise in the square below was heard to
roar with increasing fury. Tilly was parleying with the
burghers.
“Well, well,” said Cornelius, “you are a very skilful pilot,
John; but I doubt whether you will as safely guide your
brother out of the Buytenhof in the midst of this gale, and
through the raging surf of popular hatred, as you did the
fleet of Van Tromp past the shoals of the Scheldt to
Antwerp.”
“With the help of God, Cornelius, we’ll at least try,”
answered John; “but, first of all, a word with you.”