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_ The two remained silent for some minutes, Gryphus on the offensive, and
Van Baerle on the defensive.
Then, as the situation might be prolonged to an indefinite length,
Cornelius, anxious to know something more of the causes which had so
fiercely exasperated his jailer, spoke first by putting the question,--
"Well, what do you want, after all?"
"I'll tell you what I want," answered Gryphus; "I want you to restore to
me my daughter Rosa."
"Your daughter?" cried Van Baerle.
"Yes, my daughter Rosa, whom you have taken from me by your devilish
magic. Now, will you tell me where she is?"
And the attitude of Gryphus became more and more threatening.
"Rosa is not at Loewestein?" cried Cornelius.
"You know well she is not. Once more, will you restore her to me?"
"I see," said Cornelius, "this is a trap you are laying for me."
"Now, for the last time, will you tell me where my daughter is?"
"Guess it, you rogue, if you don't know it."
"Only wait, only wait," growled Gryphus, white with rage, and with
quivering lips, as his brain began to turn. "Ah, you will not tell me
anything? Well, I'll unlock your teeth!"
He advanced a step towards Cornelius, and said, showing him the weapon
which he held in his hands,--
"Do you see this knife? Well, I have killed more than fifty black cocks
with it, and I vow I'll kill their master, the devil, as well as them."
"But, you blockhead," said Cornelius, "will you really kill me?"
"I shall open your heart to see in it the place where you hide my
daughter."
Saying this, Gryphus in his frenzy rushed towards Cornelius, who had
barely time to retreat behind his table to avoid the first thrust; but
as Gryphus continued, with horrid threats, to brandish his huge knife,
and as, although out of the reach of his weapon, yet, as long as it
remained in the madman's hand, the ruffian might fling it at him,
Cornelius lost no time, and availing himself of the stick, which he held
tight under his arm, dealt the jailer a vigorous blow on the wrist of
that hand which held the knife.
The knife fell to the ground, and Cornelius put his foot on it.
Then, as Gryphus seemed bent upon engaging in a struggle which the pain
in his wrist, and shame for having allowed himself to be disarmed, would
have made desperate, Cornelius took a decisive step, belaboring his
jailer with the most heroic self-possession, and selecting the exact
spot for every blow of the terrible cudgel.
It was not long before Gryphus begged for mercy. But before begging for
mercy, he had lustily roared for help, and his cries had roused all the
functionaries of the prison. Two turnkeys, an inspector, and three or
four guards, made their appearance all at once, and found Cornelius
still using the stick, with the knife under his foot.
At the sight of these witnesses, who could not know all the
circumstances which had provoked and might justify his offence,
Cornelius felt that he was irretrievably lost.
In fact, appearances were sadly against him.
In one moment Cornelius was disarmed, and Gryphus raised and supported;
and, bellowing with rage and pain, he was able to count on his back
and shoulders the bruises which were beginning to swell like the hills
dotting the slopes of a mountain ridge.
A protocol of the violence practiced by the prisoner against his jailer
was immediately drawn up, and as it was made on the depositions of
Gryphus, it certainly could not be said to be too tame; the prisoner
being charged with neither more nor less than with an attempt to murder,
for a long time premeditated, with open rebellion.
Whilst the charge was made out against Cornelius, Gryphus, whose
presence was no longer necessary after having made his depositions,
was taken down by his turnkeys to his lodge, groaning and covered with
bruises.
During this time, the guards who had seized Cornelius busied themselves
in charitably informing their prisoner of the usages and customs of
Loewestein, which however he knew as well as they did. The regulations
had been read to him at the moment of his entering the prison, and
certain articles in them remained fixed in his memory.
Among other things they told him that this regulation had been carried
out to its full extent in the case of a prisoner named Mathias, who
in 1668, that is to say, five years before, had committed a much less
violent act of rebellion than that of which Cornelius was guilty. He had
found his soup too hot, and thrown it at the head of the chief turnkey,
who in consequence of this ablution had been put to the inconvenience of
having his skin come off as he wiped his face.
Mathias was taken within twelve hours from his cell, then led to the
jailer's lodge, where he was registered as leaving Loewestein, then
taken to the Esplanade, from which there is a very fine prospect over
a wide expanse of country. There they fettered his hands, bandaged his
eyes, and let him say his prayers.
Hereupon he was invited to go down on his knees, and the guards of
Loewestein, twelve in number, at a sign from a sergeant, very cleverly
lodged a musket-ball each in his body.
In consequence of this proceeding, Mathias incontinently did then and
there die.
Cornelius listened with the greatest attention to this delightful
recital, and then said,--
"Ah! ah! within twelve hours, you say?"
"Yes, the twelfth hour had not even struck, if I remember right," said
the guard who had told him the story.
"Thank you," said Cornelius.
The guard still had the smile on his face with which he accompanied and
as it were accentuated his tale, when footsteps and a jingling of spurs
were heard ascending the stair-case.
The guards fell back to allow an officer to pass, who entered the cell
of Cornelius at the moment when the clerk of Loewestein was still making
out his report.
"Is this No. 11?" he asked.
"Yes, Captain," answered a non-commissioned officer.
"Then this is the cell of the prisoner Cornelius van Baerle?"
"Exactly, Captain."
"Where is the prisoner?"
"Here I am, sir," answered Cornelius, growing rather pale,
notwithstanding all his courage.
"You are Dr. Cornelius van Baerle?" asked he, this time addressing the
prisoner himself.
"Yes, sir."
"Then follow me."
"Oh! oh!" said Cornelius, whose heart felt oppressed by the first dread
of death. "What quick work they make here in the fortress of Loewestein.
And the rascal talked to me of twelve hours!"
"Ah! what did I tell you?" whispered the communicative guard in the ear
of the culprit.
"A lie."
"How so?"
"You promised me twelve hours."
"Ah, yes, but here comes to you an aide-de-camp of his Highness, even
one of his most intimate companions Van Deken. Zounds! they did not
grant such an honour to poor Mathias."
"Come, come!" said Cornelius, drawing a long breath. "Come, I'll show
to these people that an honest burgher, godson of Cornelius de Witt, can
without flinching receive as many musket-balls as that Mathias."
Saying this, he passed proudly before the clerk, who, being interrupted
in his work, ventured to say to the officer,--
"But, Captain van Deken, the protocol is not yet finished."
"It is not worth while finishing it," answered the officer.
"All right," replied the clerk, philosophically putting up his paper and
pen into a greasy and well-worn writing-case.
"It was written," thought poor Cornelius, "that I should not in this
world give my name either to a child to a flower, or to a book,--the
three things by which a man's memory is perpetuated."
Repressing his melancholy thoughts, he followed the officer with a
resolute heart, and carrying his head erect.
Cornelius counted the steps which led to the Esplanade, regretting that
he had not asked the guard how many there were of them, which the man,
in his official complaisance, would not have failed to tell him.
What the poor prisoner was most afraid of during this walk, which he
considered as leading him to the end of the journey of life, was to see
Gryphus and not to see Rosa. What savage satisfaction would glisten in
the eyes of the father, and what sorrow dim those of the daughter!
How Gryphus would glory in his punishment! Punishment? Rather savage
vengeance for an eminently righteous deed, which Cornelius had the
satisfaction of having performed as a bounden duty.
But Rosa, poor girl! must he die without a glimpse of her, without an
opportunity to give her one last kiss, or even to say one last word of
farewell?
And, worst of all, must he die without any intelligence of the black
tulip, and regain his consciousness in heaven with no idea in what
direction he should look to find it?
In truth, to restrain his tears at such a crisis the poor wretch's
heart must have been encased in more of the aes triplex--"the triple
brass"--than Horace bestows upon the sailor who first visited the
terrifying Acroceraunian shoals.
In vain did Cornelius look to the right and to the left; he saw no sign
either of Rosa or Gryphus.
On reaching the Esplanade, he bravely looked about for the guards
who were to be his executioners, and in reality saw a dozen soldiers
assembled. But they were not standing in line, or carrying muskets, but
talking together so gayly that Cornelius felt almost shocked.
All at once, Gryphus, limping, staggering, and supporting himself on a
crooked stick, came forth from the jailer's lodge; his old eyes, gray
as those of a cat, were lit up by a gleam in which all his hatred was
concentrated. He then began to pour forth such a torrent of disgusting
imprecations against Cornelius, that the latter, addressing the officer,
said,--
"I do not think it very becoming sir, that I should be thus insulted by
this man, especially at a moment like this."
"Well! hear me," said the officer, laughing, "it is quite natural that
this worthy fellow should bear you a grudge,--you seem to have given it
him very soundly."
"But, sir, it was only in self-defence."
"Never mind," said the Captain, shrugging his shoulders like a true
philosopher, "let him talk; what does it matter to you now?"
The cold sweat stood on the brow of Cornelius at this answer, which he
looked upon somewhat in the light of brutal irony, especially as coming
from an officer of whom he had heard it said that he was attached to the
person of the Prince.
The unfortunate tulip-fancier then felt that he had no more resources,
and no more friends, and resigned himself to his fate.
"God's will be done," he muttered, bowing his head; then, turning
towards the officer, who seemed complacently to wait until he had
finished his meditations he asked,--
"Please, sir, tell me now, where am I to go?"
The officer pointed to a carriage, drawn by four horses, which reminded
him very strongly of that which, under similar circumstances, had before
attracted his attention at Buytenhof.
"Enter," said the officer.
"Ah!" muttered Cornelius to himself, "it seems they are not going to
treat me to the honours of the Esplanade."
He uttered these words loud enough for the chatty guard, who was at his
heels, to overhear him.
That kind soul very likely thought it his duty to give Cornelius some
new information; for, approaching the door of the carriage, whilst the
officer, with one foot on the step, was still giving some orders, he
whispered to Van Baerle,--
"Condemned prisoners have sometimes been taken to their own town to be
made an example of, and have then been executed before the door of their
own house. It's all according to circumstances."
Cornelius thanked him by signs, and then said to himself,--
"Well, here is a fellow who never misses giving consolation whenever an
opportunity presents itself. In truth, my friend, I'm very much obliged
to you. Goodbye."
The carriage drove away.
"Ah! you villain, you brigand," roared Gryphus, clinching his fists at
the victim who was escaping from his clutches, "is it not a shame that
this fellow gets off without having restored my daughter to me?"
"If they take me to Dort," thought Cornelius, "I shall see, in passing
my house, whether my poor borders have been much spoiled." _
Read next: Chapter 30. Wherein the Reader begins to guess the Kind of Execution that was awaiting Van Baerle
Read previous: Chapter 28. The Hymn of the Flowers
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