It was about midnight when poor Van Baerle was locked up inthe prison of the Buytenhof.
What Rosa foresaw had come to pass. On finding the cell ofCornelius de Witt empty, the wrath of the people ran veryhigh, and had Gryphus fallen into the hands of those madmenhe would certainly have had to pay with his life for theprisoner.
But this fury had vented itself most fully on the twobrothers when they were overtaken by the murderers, thanksto the precaution which William -- the man of precautions --had taken in having the gates of the city closed.
A momentary lull had therefore set in whilst the prison wasempty, and Rosa availed herself of this favourable moment tocome forth from her hiding place, which she also induced herfather to leave.
The prison was therefore completely deserted. Why shouldpeople remain in the jail whilst murder was going on at theTol-Hek
Gryphus came forth trembling behind the courageous Rosa.
They went to close the great gate, at least as well as itwould close, considering that it was half demolished. It waseasy to see that a hurricane of mighty fury had venteditself upon it.
About four o'clock a return of the noise was heard, but ofno threatening character to Gryphus and his daughter. Thepeople were only dragging in the two corpses, which theycame back to gibbet at the usual place of execution.
Rosa hid herself this time also, but only that she might notsee the ghastly spectacle.
At midnight, people again knocked at the gate of the jail,or rather at the barricade which served in its stead: it wasCornelius van Baerle whom they were bringing.
When the jailer received this new inmate, and saw from thewarrant the name and station of his prisoner, he mutteredwith his turnkey smile, --"Godson of Cornelius de Witt! Well, young man, we have thefamily cell here, and we will give it to you."And quite enchanted with his joke, the ferocious Orangemantook his cresset and his keys to conduct Cornelius to thecell, which on that very morning Cornelius de Witt had leftto go into exile, or what in revolutionary times is meantinstead by those sublime philosophers who lay it down as anaxiom of high policy, "It is the dead only who do notreturn."On the way which the despairing florist had to traverse toreach that cell he heard nothing but the barking of a dog,and saw nothing but the face of a young girl.
The dog rushed forth from a niche in the wall, shaking hisheavy chain, and sniffing all round Cornelius in order somuch the better to recognise him in case he should beordered to pounce upon him.
The young girl, whilst the prisoner was mounting thestaircase, appeared at the narrow door of her chamber, whichopened on that very flight of steps; and, holding the lampin her right hand, she at the same time lit up her prettyblooming face, surrounded by a profusion of rich wavy goldenlocks, whilst with her left she held her white night-dressclosely over her breast, having been roused from her firstslumber by the unexpected arrival of Van Baerle.
It would have made a fine picture, worthy of Rembrandt, thegloomy winding stairs illuminated by the reddish glare ofthe cresset of Gryphus, with his scowling jailer'scountenance at the top, the melancholy figure of Corneliusbending over the banister to look down upon the sweet faceof Rosa, standing, as it were, in the bright frame of thedoor of her chamber, with embarrassed mien at being thusseen by a stranger.
And at the bottom, quite in the shade, where the details areabsorbed in the obscurity, the mastiff, with his eyesglistening like carbuncles, and shaking his chain, on whichthe double light from the lamp of Rosa and the lantern ofGryphus threw a brilliant glitter.
The sublime master would, however, have been altogetherunable to render the sorrow expressed in the face of Rosa,when she saw this pale, handsome young man slowly climbingthe stairs, and thought of the full import of the words,which her father had just spoken, "You will have the familycell."This vision lasted but a moment, -- much less time than wehave taken to describe it. Gryphus then proceeded on hisway, Cornelius was forced to follow him, and five minutesafterwards he entered his prison, of which it is unnecessaryto say more, as the reader is already acquainted with it.
Gryphus pointed with his finger to the bed on which themartyr had suffered so much, who on that day had renderedhis soul to God. Then, taking up his cresset, he quitted thecell.
Thus left alone, Cornelius threw himself on his bed, but heslept not, he kept his eye fixed on the narrow window,barred with iron, which looked on the Buytenhof; and in thisway saw from behind the trees that first pale beam of lightwhich morning sheds on the earth as a white mantle.
Now and then during the night horses had galloped at a smartpace over the Buytenhof, the heavy tramp of the patrols hadresounded from the pavement, and the slow matches of thearquebuses, flaring in the east wind, had thrown up atintervals a sudden glare as far as to the panes of hiswindow.
But when the rising sun began to gild the coping stones atthe gable ends of the houses, Cornelius, eager to knowwhether there was any living creature about him, approachedthe window, and cast a sad look round the circular yardbefore himAt the end of the yard a dark mass, tinted with a dingy blueby the morning dawn, rose before him, its dark outlinesstanding out in contrast to the houses already illuminatedby the pale light of early morning.
Cornelius recognised the gibbet.
On it were suspended two shapeless trunks, which indeed wereno more than bleeding skeletons.
The good people of the Hague had chopped off the flesh ofits victims, but faithfully carried the remainder to thegibbet, to have a pretext for a double inscription writtenon a huge placard, on which Cornelius; with the keen sightof a young man of twenty-eight, was able to read thefollowing lines, daubed by the coarse brush of asign-painter: --"Here are hanging the great rogue of the name of John deWitt, and the little rogue Cornelius de Witt, his brother,two enemies of the people, but great friends of the king ofFrance."Cornelius uttered a cry of horror, and in the agony of hisfrantic terror knocked with his hands and feet at the doorso violently and continuously, that Gryphus, with his hugebunch of keys in his hand, ran furiously up.
The jailer opened the door, with terrible imprecationsagainst the prisoner who disturbed him at an hour whichMaster Gryphus was not accustomed to be aroused.
Well, now, by my soul, he is mad, this new De Witt," hecried, "but all those De Witts have the devil in them.""Master, master," cried Cornelius, seizing the jailer by thearm and dragging him towards the window, -- "master, whathave I read down there?""Where down there?""On that placard."And, trembling, pale, and gasping for breath, he pointed tothe gibbet at the other side of the yard, with the cynicalinscription surmounting it.
Gryphus broke out into a laugh.
Eh! eh!" he answered, "so, you have read it. Well, my goodsir, that's what people will get for corresponding with theenemies 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, hisarms hanging by his side, and his eyes closed.
The brothers De Witt have been judged by the people," saidGryphus; "you call that murdered, do you? well, I call itexecuted."And seeing that the prisoner was not only quiet, butentirely prostrate and senseless, he rushed from the cell,violently slamming the door, and noisily drawing the bolts.
Recovering his consciousness, Cornelius found himself alone,and recognised the room where he was, -- "the family cell,"as Gryphus had called it, -- as the fatal passage leading toignominious death.
And as he was a philosopher, and, more than that, as he wasa Christian, he began to pray for the soul of his godfather,then for that of the Grand Pensionary, and at last submittedwith resignation to all the sufferings which God mightordain for him.
Then turning again to the concerns of earth, and havingsatisfied himself that he was alone in his dungeon, he drewfrom his breast the three bulbs of the black tulip, andconcealed them behind a block of stone, on which thetraditional water-jug of the prison was standing, in thedarkest corner of his cell.
Useless labour of so many years! such sweet hopes crushed;his discovery was, after all, to lead to naught, just as hisown career was to be cut short. Here, in his prison, therewas not a trace of vegetation, not an atom of soil, not aray of sunshine.
At this thought Cornelius fell into a gloomy despair, fromwhich he was only aroused by an extraordinary circumstance.
What was this circumstance
We shall inform the reader in our next chapter.