Whilst the events we have described in our last chapter weretaking place, the unfortunate Van Baerle, forgotten in hiscell in the fortress of Loewestein, suffered at the hands ofGryphus all that a prisoner can suffer when his jailer hasformed the determination of playing the part of hangman.
Gryphus, not having received any tidings of Rosa or ofJacob, persuaded himself that all that had happened was thedevil's work, and that Dr. Cornelius van Baerle had beensent on earth by Satan.
The result of it was, that, one fine morning, the thirdafter the disappearance of Jacob and Rosa, he went up to thecell of Cornelius in even a greater rage than usual.
The latter, leaning with his elbows on the window-sill andsupporting his head with his two hands, whilst his eyeswandered over the distant hazy horizon where the windmillsof Dort were turning their sails, was breathing the freshair, in order to be able to keep down his tears and tofortify himself in his philosophy.
The pigeons were still there, but hope was not there; therewas no future to look forward to.
Alas! Rosa, being watched, was no longer able to come. Couldshe not write? and if so, could she convey her letters tohim
No, no. He had seen during the two preceding days too muchfury and malignity in the eyes of old Gryphus to expect thathis vigilance would relax, even for one moment. Moreover,had not she to suffer even worse torments than those ofseclusion and separation? Did this brutal, blaspheming,drunken bully take revenge on his daughter, like theruthless fathers of the Greek drama? And when the Genievrehad heated his brain, would it not give to his arm, whichhad been only too well set by Cornelius, even double force
The idea that Rosa might perhaps be ill-treated nearly droveCornelius mad.
He then felt his own powerlessness. He asked himself whetherGod was just in inflicting so much tribulation on twoinnocent creatures. And certainly in these moments he beganto doubt the wisdom of Providence. It is one of the cursesof misfortune that it thus begets doubt.
Van Baerle had proposed to write to Rosa, but where was she
He also would have wished to write to the Hague to bebeforehand with Gryphus, who, he had no doubt, would bydenouncing him do his best to bring new storms on his head.
But how should he write? Gryphus had taken the paper andpencil from him, and even if he had both, he could hardlyexpect Gryphus to despatch his letter.
Then Cornelius revolved in his mind all those stratagemsresorted to by unfortunate prisoners.
He had thought of an attempt to escape, a thing which neverentered his head whilst he could see Rosa every day; but themore he thought of it, the more clearly he saw theimpracticability of such an attempt. He was one of thosechoice spirits who abhor everything that is common, and whooften lose a good chance through not taking the way of thevulgar, that high road of mediocrity which leads toeverything.
How is it possible," said Cornelius to himself, "that Ishould escape from Loewestein, as Grotius has done the samething before me? Has not every precaution been taken since
Are not the windows barred? Are not the doors of double andeven of treble strength, and the sentinels ten times morewatchful? And have not I, besides all this, an Argus so muchthe more dangerous as he has the keen eyes of hatred
Finally, is there not one fact which takes away all myspirit, I mean Rosa's absence? But suppose I should wasteten years of my life in making a file to file off my bars,or in braiding cords to let myself down from the window, orin sticking wings on my shoulders to fly, like Daedalus? Butluck is against me now. The file would get dull, the ropewould break, or my wings would melt in the sun; I shouldsurely kill myself, I should be picked up maimed andcrippled; I should be labelled, and put on exhibition in themuseum at the Hague between the blood-stained doublet ofWilliam the Taciturn and the female walrus captured atStavesen, and the only result of my enterprise will havebeen to procure me a place among the curiosities of Holland.
But no; and it is much better so. Some fine day Gryphuswill commit some atrocity. I am losing my patience, since Ihave lost the joy and company of Rosa, and especially sinceI have lost my tulip. Undoubtedly, some day or other Gryphuswill attack me in a manner painful to my self-respect, or tomy love, or even threaten my personal safety. I don't knowhow it is, but since my imprisonment I feel a strange andalmost irresistible pugnacity. Well, I shall get at thethroat of that old villain, and strangle him."Cornelius at these words stopped for a moment, biting hislips and staring out before him; then, eagerly returning toan idea which seemed to possess a strange fascination forhim, he continued, --"Well, and once having strangled him, why should I not takehis keys from him, why not go down the stairs as if I haddone the most virtuous action, why not go and fetch Rosafrom her room, why not tell her all, and jump from herwindow into the Waal? I am expert enough as a swimmer tosave both of us. Rosa, -- but, oh Heaven, Gryphus is herfather! Whatever may be her affection for me, she will neverapprove of my having strangled her father, brutal andmalicious as he has been.
I shall have to enter into an argument with her; and in themidst of my speech some wretched turnkey who has foundGryphus with the death-rattle in his throat, or perhapsactually dead, will come along and put his hand on myshoulder. Then I shall see the Buytenhof again, and thegleam of that infernal sword, -- which will not stophalf-way a second time, but will make acquaintance with thenape of my neck.
It will not do, Cornelius, my fine fellow, -- it is a badplan. But, then, what is to become of me, and how shall Ifind Rosa again?"Such were the cogitations of Cornelius three days after thesad scene of separation from Rosa, at the moment when wefind him standing at the window.
And at that very moment Gryphus entered.
He held in his hand a huge stick, his eyes glistening withspiteful thoughts, a malignant smile played round his lips,and the whole of his carriage, and even all his movements,betokened bad and malicious intentions.
Cornelius heard him enter, and guessed that it was he, butdid not turn round, as he knew well that Rosa was not comingafter him.
There is nothing more galling to angry people than thecoolness of those on whom they wish to vent their spleen.
The expense being once incurred, one does not like to loseit; one's passion is roused, and one's blood boiling, so itwould be labour lost not to have at least a nice little row.
Gryphus, therefore, on seeing that Cornelius did not stir,tried to attract his attention by a loud --"Umph, umph!"Cornelius was humming between his teeth the "Hymn ofFlowers," -- a sad but very charming song, --"We are the daughters of the secret fireOf the fire which runs through the veins of the earth;We are the daughters of Aurora and of the dew;We are the daughters of the air;We are the daughters of the water;But we are, above all, the daughters of heaven."This song, the placid melancholy of which was stillheightened by its calm and sweet melody, exasperated Gryphus.
He struck his stick on the stone pavement of the cell,and called out, --"Halloa! my warbling gentleman, don't you hear me?"Cornelius turned round, merely saying, "Good morning," andthen 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, Ibelieve," 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 frenziedfeatures, the flashing eyes, and foaming mouth of the oldjailer, he said, --"Bless the man, he is more than mad, he is furious."Gryphus flourished his stick above his head, but Van Baerlemoved not, and remained standing with his arms akimbo.
It seems your intention to threaten me, Master Gryphus.""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 Idon'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 twopenalties, -- the first laid down in Article 9 of theregulations at Loewestein: --"'Any jailer, inspector, or turnkey who lays hands upon anyprisoner of State will be dismissed.'""Yes, who lays hands," said Gryphus, mad with rage, "butthere is not a word about a stick in the regulation.""And the second," continued Cornelius, "which is not writtenin the regulation, but which is to be found elsewhere: --"'Whosoever takes up the stick will be thrashed by thestick.'"Gryphus, growing more and more exasperated by the calm andsententious tone of Cornelius, brandished his cudgel, but atthe 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 doanything 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 upstairsin the morning.""It's true, you generally bring me the worst soup, and themost miserable rations one can imagine. But that's not apunishment to me; I eat only bread, and the worse the breadis 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 youthink you do me harm.""Certainly; I don't give it you to please you, you brigand.""Well, then, I, who am a sorcerer, as you know, change yourbad into excellent bread, which I relish more than the bestcake; and then I have the double pleasure of eatingsomething that gratifies my palate, and of doing somethingthat 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, Idon't mind telling you.""Well, well, well," answered Gryphus. "But if a sorcerer canchange black bread into white, won't he die of hunger if hehas no bread at all?""What's that?" said Cornelius.
Consequently, I shall not bring you any bread at all, andwe shall see how it will be after eight days."Cornelius grew pale.
And," continued Gryphus, "we'll begin this very day. As youare such a clever sorcerer, why, you had better change thefurniture of your room into bread; as to myself, I shallpocket the eighteen sous which are paid to me for yourboard.""But that's murder," cried Cornelius, carried away by thefirst impulse of the very natural terror with which thishorrible mode of death inspired him.
Well," Gryphus went on, in his jeering way, "as you are asorcerer, you will live, notwithstanding."Cornelius put on a smiling face again, and said, --"Have you not seen me make the pigeons come here from Dort?""Well?" said Gryphus.
Well, a pigeon is a very dainty morsel, and a man who eatsone every day would not starve, I think.""And how about the fire?" said Gryphus.
Fire! but you know that I'm in league with the devil. Doyou think the devil will leave me without fire? Why, fire ishis proper element.""A man, however healthy his appetite may be, would not eat apigeon every day. Wagers have been laid to do so, and thosewho made them gave them up.""Well, but when I am tired of pigeons, I shall make the fishof the Waal and of the Meuse come up to me."Gryphus opened his large eyes, quite bewildered.
I am rather fond of fish," continued Cornelius; "you neverlet me have any. Well, I shall turn your starving me toadvantage, and regale myself with fish."Gryphus nearly fainted with anger and with fright, but hesoon rallied, and said, putting his hand in his pocket, --"Well, as you force me to it," and with these words he drewforth a clasp-knife and opened it.
Halloa! a knife?" said Cornelius, preparing to defendhimself with his stick.