Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

John!”

“I consider, above all things, that the brothers De Witt

must necessarily save their lives, to be able to save their

character. If we are dead, who will defend us? Who will have

fully understood our intentions?”

“You expect, then, that they would kill us if those papers

were found?”

John, without answering, pointed with his hand to the

square, whence, at that very moment, fierce shouts and

savage yells made themselves heard.

“Yes, yes,” said Cornelius, “I hear these shouts very

plainly, but what is their meaning?”

John opened the window.

“Death to the traitors!” howled the populace.

“Do you hear now, Cornelius?”

“To the traitors! that means us!” said the prisoner, raising

his eyes to heaven and shrugging his shoulders.

“Yes, it means us,” repeated John.

“Where is Craeke?”

“At the door of your cell, I suppose.”

“Let him enter then.”

John opened the door; the faithful servant was waiting on

the threshold.

“Come in, Craeke, and mind well what my brother will tell

you.”

“No, John; it will not suffice to send a verbal message;

unfortunately, I shall be obliged to write.”

“And why that?”

“Because Van Baerle will neither give up the parcel nor burn

it without a special command to do so.”

“But will you be able to write, poor old fellow?” John

asked, with a look on the scorched and bruised hands of the

unfortunate sufferer.

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Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

“If I had pen and ink you would soon see,” said Cornelius.

“Here is a pencil, at any rate.”

“Have you any paper? for they have left me nothing.”

“Here, take this Bible, and tear out the fly-leaf.”

“Very well, that will do.”

“But your writing will be illegible.”

“Just leave me alone for that,” said Cornelius. “The

executioners have indeed pinched me badly enough, but my

hand will not tremble once in tracing the few lines which

are requisite.”

And really Cornelius took the pencil and began to write,

when through the white linen bandages drops of blood oozed

out which the pressure of the fingers against the pencil

squeezed from the raw flesh.

A cold sweat stood on the brow of the Grand Pensionary.

Cornelius wrote: —

“My dear Godson, —

“Burn the parcel which I have intrusted to you. Burn it

without looking at it, and without opening it, so that its

contents may for ever remain unknown to yourself. Secrets of

this description are death to those with whom they are

deposited. Burn it, and you will have saved John and

Cornelius de Witt.

“Farewell, and love me.

“Cornelius de Witt

“August 20th, 1672.”

John, with tears in his eyes, wiped off a drop of the noble

blood which had soiled the leaf, and, after having handed

the despatch to Craeke with a last direction, returned to

Cornelius, who seemed overcome by intense pain, and near

fainting.

“Now,” said he, “when honest Craeke sounds his coxswain’s

whistle, it will be a signal of his being clear of the

crowd, and of his having reached the other side of the pond.

And then it will be our turn to depart.”

Five minutes had not elapsed, before a long and shrill

whistle was heard through the din and noise of the square of

the Buytenhof.

John gratefully raised his eyes to heaven.

“And now,” said he, “let us off, Cornelius.”

Chapter 3

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Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

The Pupil of John de Witt

Whilst the clamour of the crowd in the square of Buytenhof,

which grew more and more menacing against the two brothers,

determined John de Witt to hasten the departure of his

brother Cornelius, a deputation of burghers had gone to the

Town-hall to demand the withdrawal of Tilly’s horse.

It was not far from the Buytenhof to Hoogstraet (High

Street); and a stranger, who since the beginning of this

scene had watched all its incidents with intense interest,

was seen to wend his way with, or rather in the wake of, the

others towards the Town-hall, to hear as soon as possible

the current news of the hour.

This stranger was a very young man, of scarcely twenty-two

or three, with nothing about him that bespoke any great