Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

then began his song again: —

“Men defile us and kill us while loving us,

We hang to the earth by a thread;

This thread is our root, that is to say, our life,

But we raise on high our arms towards heaven.”

“Ah, you accursed sorcerer! you are making game of me, I

believe,” roared Gryphus.

Cornelius continued: —

“For heaven is our home,

Our true home, as from thence comes our soul,

As thither our soul returns, —

Our soul, that is to say, our perfume.”

Gryphus went up to the prisoner and said, —

“But you don’t see that I have taken means to get you under,

and to force you to confess your crimes.”

“Are you mad, my dear Master Gryphus?” asked Cornelius.

And, as he now for the first time observed the frenzied

features, the flashing eyes, and foaming mouth of the old

jailer, he said, —

“Bless the man, he is more than mad, he is furious.”

Gryphus flourished his stick above his head, but Van Baerle

moved not, and remained standing with his arms akimbo.

“It seems your intention to threaten me, Master Gryphus.”

Page 158

Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

“Yes, indeed, I threaten you,” cried the jailer.

“And with what?”

“First of all, look at what I have in my hand.”

“I think that’s a stick,” said Cornelius calmly, “but I

don’t suppose you will threaten me with that.”

“Oh, you don’t suppose! why not?”

“Because any jailer who strikes a prisoner is liable to two

penalties, — the first laid down in Article 9 of the

regulations at Loewestein: —

“‘Any jailer, inspector, or turnkey who lays hands upon any

prisoner of State will be dismissed.'”

“Yes, who lays hands,” said Gryphus, mad with rage, “but

there is not a word about a stick in the regulation.”

“And the second,” continued Cornelius, “which is not written

in the regulation, but which is to be found elsewhere: —

“‘Whosoever takes up the stick will be thrashed by the

stick.'”

Gryphus, growing more and more exasperated by the calm and

sententious tone of Cornelius, brandished his cudgel, but at

the moment when he raised it Cornelius rushed at him,

snatched it from his hands, and put it under his own arm.

Gryphus fairly bellowed with rage.

“Hush, hush, my good man,” said Cornelius, “don’t do

anything to lose your place.”

“Ah, you sorcerer! I’ll pinch you worse,” roared Gryphus.

“I wish you may.”

“Don’t you see my hand is empty?”

“Yes, I see it, and I am glad of it.”

“You know that it is not generally so when I come upstairs

in the morning.”

“It’s true, you generally bring me the worst soup, and the

most miserable rations one can imagine. But that’s not a

punishment to me; I eat only bread, and the worse the bread

is to your taste, the better it is to mine.”

“How so?”

“Oh, it’s a very simple thing.”

“Well, tell it me,” said Gryphus.

“Very willingly. I know that in giving me bad bread you

think you do me harm.”

“Certainly; I don’t give it you to please you, you brigand.”

Page 159

Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

“Well, then, I, who am a sorcerer, as you know, change your

bad into excellent bread, which I relish more than the best

cake; and then I have the double pleasure of eating

something that gratifies my palate, and of doing something

that puts you in a rage.

Gryphus answered with a growl.

“Oh! you confess, then, that you are a sorcerer.”

“Indeed, I am one. I don’t say it before all the world,

because they might burn me for it, but as we are alone, I

don’t mind telling you.”

“Well, well, well,” answered Gryphus. “But if a sorcerer can

change black bread into white, won’t he die of hunger if he

has no bread at all?”

“What’s that?” said Cornelius.

“Consequently, I shall not bring you any bread at all, and

we shall see how it will be after eight days.”

Cornelius grew pale.

“And,” continued Gryphus, “we’ll begin this very day. As you

are such a clever sorcerer, why, you had better change the