第 3 页

"Then we are lost, as far as this life is concerned,"quietly said the Grand Pensionary, approaching the window.

"No, on the contrary, John, we shall at the same time saveour lives and regain our popularity."

"But what have you done with these letters?"

"I have intrusted them to the care of Cornelius van Baerle,my godson, whom you know, and who lives at Dort."

"Poor honest Van Baerle! who knows so much, and yet thinksof nothing but of flowers and of God who made them. You haveintrusted him with this fatal secret; it will be his ruin,poor soul!"

"His ruin?"

"Yes, for he will either be strong or he will be weak. If heis strong, he will, when he hears of what has happened tous, boast of our acquaintance; if he is weak, he will beafraid on account of his connection with us: if he isstrong, he will betray the secret by his boldness; if he isweak, he will allow it to be forced from him. In either casehe is lost, and so are we. Let us, therefore, fly, fly, aslong as there is still time."

Cornelius de Witt, raising himself on his couch, andgrasping the hand of his brother, who shuddered at the touchof his linen bandages, replied, --

"Do not I know my godson? have not I been enabled to readevery thought in Van Baerle's mind, and every sentiment inhis heart? You ask whether he is strong or weak. He isneither the one nor the other; but that is not now thequestion. The principal point is, that he is sure not todivulge the secret, for the very good reason that he doesnot know it himself."

John turned round in surprise.

"You must know, my dear brother, that I have been trained inthe school of that distinguished politician John de Witt;and I repeat to you, that Van Baerle is not aware of thenature and importance of the deposit which I have intrustedto him."

"Quick then," cried John, "as there is still time, let usconvey to him directions to burn the parcel."

"Through whom?"

"Through my servant Craeke, who was to have accompanied uson horseback, and who has entered the prison with me, toassist you downstairs."

"Consider well before having those precious documents burnt,John!"

"I consider, above all things, that the brothers De Wittmust necessarily save their lives, to be able to save theircharacter. If we are dead, who will defend us? Who will havefully understood our intentions?"

"You expect, then, that they would kill us if those paperswere found?"

John, without answering, pointed with his hand to thesquare, whence, at that very moment, fierce shouts andsavage yells made themselves heard.

"Yes, yes," said Cornelius, "I hear these shouts veryplainly, 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, raisinghis 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 onthe threshold.

"Come in, Craeke, and mind well what my brother will tellyou."

"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 burnit without a special command to do so."

"But will you be able to write, poor old fellow?" Johnasked, with a look on the scorched and bruised hands of theunfortunate sufferer.

"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. "Theexecutioners have indeed pinched me badly enough, but myhand will not tremble once in tracing the few lines whichare requisite."

And really Cornelius took the pencil and began to write,when through the white linen bandages drops of blood oozedout which the pressure of the fingers against the pencilsqueezed 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 itwithout looking at it, and without opening it, so that itscontents may for ever remain unknown to yourself. Secrets ofthis description are death to those with whom they aredeposited. Burn it, and you will have saved John andCornelius de Witt.

"Farewell, and love me.

"Cornelius de Witt

"August 20th, 1672."

John, with tears in his eyes, wiped off a drop of the nobleblood which had soiled the leaf, and, after having handedthe despatch to Craeke with a last direction, returned toCornelius, who seemed overcome by intense pain, and nearfainting.

"Now," said he, "when honest Craeke sounds his coxswain'swhistle, it will be a signal of his being clear of thecrowd, 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 shrillwhistle was heard through the din and noise of the square ofthe Buytenhof.

John gratefully raised his eyes to heaven.

"And now," said he, "let us off, Cornelius."

Chapter 3

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 hisbrother Cornelius, a deputation of burghers had gone to theTown-hall to demand the withdrawal of Tilly's horse.

It was not far from the Buytenhof to Hoogstraet (HighStreet); and a stranger, who since the beginning of thisscene had watched all its incidents with intense interest,was seen to wend his way with, or rather in the wake of, theothers towards the Town-hall, to hear as soon as possiblethe current news of the hour.

This stranger was a very young man, of scarcely twenty-twoor three, with nothing about him that bespoke any greatenergy. He evidently had his good reasons for not makinghimself known, as he hid his face in a handkerchief of fineFrisian linen, with which he incessantly wiped his brow orhis burning lips.

With an eye keen as that of a bird of prey, -- with a longaquiline nose, a finely cut mouth, which he generally keptopen, or rather which was gaping like the edges of a wound,-- this man would have presented to Lavater, if Lavater hadlived at that time, a subject for physiognomicalobservations which at the first blush would not have beenvery favourable to the person in question.

"What difference is there between the figure of theconqueror and that of the pirate?" said the ancients. Thedifference only between the eagle and the vulture, --serenity or restlessness.

And indeed the sallow physiognomy, the thin and sickly body,and the prowling ways of the stranger, were the very type ofa suspecting master, or an unquiet thief; and a policeofficer would certainly have decided in favour of the lattersupposition, on account of the great care which themysterious person evidently took to hide himself.

He was plainly dressed, and apparently unarmed; his arm waslean but wiry, and his hands dry, but of an aristocraticwhiteness and delicacy, and he leaned on the shoulder of anofficer, who, with his hand on his sword, had watched thescenes in the Buytenhof with eager curiosity, very naturalin a military man, until his companion drew him away withhim.

On arriving at the square of the Hoogstraet, the man withthe sallow face pushed the other behind an open shutter,from which corner he himself began to survey the balcony ofthe Town-hall.

At the savage yells of the mob, the window of the Town-hallopened, and a man came forth to address the people.

"Who is that on the balcony?" asked the young man, glancingat the orator.

"It is the Deputy Bowelt," replied the officer.

"What sort of a man is he? Do you know anything of him?"

"An honest man; at least I believe so, Monseigneur."

Hearing this character given of Bowelt, the young man showedsigns of such a strange disappointment and evidentdissatisfaction that the officer could not but remark it,and therefore added, --

"At least people say so, Monseigneur. I cannot say anythingabout it myself, as I have no personal acquaintance withMynheer Bowelt."

"An honest man," repeated he who was addressed asMonseigneur; "do you mean to say that he is an honest man(brave homme), or a brave one (homme brave)?"

"Ah, Monseigneur must excuse me; I would not presume to drawsuch a fine distinction in the case of a man whom, I assureyour Highness once more, I know only by sight."

"If this Bowelt is an honest man," his Highness continued,"he will give to the demand of these furibund petitioners avery queer reception."

The nervous quiver of his hand, which moved on the shoulderof his companion as the fingers of a player on the keys of aharpsichord, betrayed his burning impatience, so illconcealed at certain times, and particularly at that moment,under the icy and sombre expression of his face.

The chief of the deputation of the burghers was then heardaddressing an interpellation to Mynheer Bowelt, whom herequested to let them know where the other deputies, hiscolleagues, were.

"Gentlemen," Bowelt repeated for the second time, "I assureyou that in this moment I am here alone with Mynheerd'Asperen, and I cannot take any resolution on my ownresponsibility."

"The order! we want the order!" cried several thousandvoices.

Mynheer Bowelt wished to speak, but his words were notheard, and he was only seen moving his arms in all sorts ofgestures, which plainly showed that he felt his position tobe desperate. When, at last, he saw that he could not makehimself heard, he turned round towards the open window, andcalled Mynheer d'Asperen.

The latter gentleman now made his appearance on the balcony,where he was saluted with shouts even more energetic thanthose with which, ten minutes before, his colleague had beenreceived.

This did not prevent him from undertaking the difficult taskof haranguing the mob; but the mob preferred forcing theguard of the States -- which, however, offered no resistanceto the sovereign people -- to listening to the speech ofMynheer d'Asperen.

"Now, then," the young man coolly remarked, whilst the crowdwas rushing into the principal gate of the Town-hall, "itseems the question will be discussed indoors, Captain. Comealong, and let us hear the debate."

"Oh, Monseigneur! Monseigneur! take care!"

"Of what?"

"Among these deputies there are many who have had dealingswith you, and it would be sufficient, that one of themshould recognize your Highness."

"Yes, that I might be charged with having been theinstigator of all this work, indeed, you are right," saidthe young man, blushing for a moment from regret of havingbetrayed so much eagerness. "From this place we shall seethem return with or without the order for the withdrawal ofthe dragoons, then we may judge which is greater, MynheerBowelt's honesty or his courage."

"But," replied the officer, looking with astonishment at thepersonage whom he addressed as Monseigneur, "but yourHighness surely does not suppose for one instant that thedeputies will order Tilly's horse to quit their post?"

"Why not?" the young man quietly retorted.

"Because doing so would simply be signing the death warrantof Cornelius and John de Witt."

"We shall see," his Highness replied, with the most perfectcoolness; "God alone knows what is going on within thehearts of men."

The officer looked askance at the impassible figure of hiscompanion, and grew pale: he was an honest man as well as abrave one.

From the spot where they stood, his Highness and hisattendant heard the tumult and the heavy tramp of the crowdon the staircase of the Town-hall. The noise thereuponsounded through the windows of the hall, on the balcony ofwhich Mynheers Bowelt and D'Asperen had presentedthemselves. These two gentlemen had retired into thebuilding, very likely from fear of being forced over thebalustrade by the pressure of the crowd.

After this, fluctuating shadows in tumultuous confusion wereseen flitting to and fro across the windows: the councilhall was filling.

Suddenly the noise subsided, and as suddenly again it rosewith redoubled intensity, and at last reached such a pitchthat the old building shook to the very roof.

At length, the living stream poured back through thegalleries and stairs to the arched gateway, from which itwas seen issuing like waters from a spout.

At the head of the first group, man was flying rather thanrunning, his face hideously distorted with satanic glee:this man was the surgeon Tyckelaer.

"We have it! we have it!" he cried, brandishing a paper inthe air.

"They have got the order!" muttered the officer inamazement.

"Well, then," his Highness quietly remarked, "now I knowwhat to believe with regard to Mynheer Bowelt's honesty andcourage: he has neither the one nor the other."

Then, looking with a steady glance after the crowd which wasrushing along before him, he continued, --

"Let us now go to the Buytenhof, Captain; I expect we shallsee a very strange sight there."

The officer bowed, and, without making any reply, followedin the steps of his master.

There was an immense crowd in the square and about theneighbourhood of the prison. But the dragoons of Tilly stillkept it in check with the same success and with the samefirmness.

It was not long before the Count heard the increasing din ofthe approaching multitude, the first ranks of which rushedon with the rapidity of a cataract.

At the same time he observed the paper, which was wavingabove the surface of clenched fists and glittering arms.

"Halloa!" he said, rising in his stirrups, and touching hislieutenant with the knob of his sword; "I really believethose rascals have got the order."