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The Black Tulip-Part14_Alexandre Dumas(1802-1870)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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Cornelius recognised the gibbet.

On it were suspended two shapeless trunks, which indeed were



no more than bleeding skeletons.

The good people of the Hague had chopped off the flesh of



its victims, but faithfully carried the remainder to the

gibbet, to have a pretext for a double inscription written



on a huge placard, on which Cornelius; with the keen sight

of a young man of twenty-eight, was able to read the



following lines, daubed by the coarse brush of a

sign-painter: --



"Here are hanging the great rogue of the name of John de

Witt, and the little rogue Cornelius de Witt, his brother,



two enemies of the people, but great friends of the king of

France."



Cornelius uttered a cry of horror, and in the agony of his

frantic terror knocked with his hands and feet at the door



so violently and continuously, that Gryphus, with his huge

bunch of keys in his hand, ran furiously up.



The jailer opened the door, with terrible imprecations

against the prisoner who disturbed him at an hour which



Master Gryphus was not accustomed to be aroused.

"Well, now, by my soul, he is mad, this new De Witt," he



cried, "but all those De Witts have the devil in them."

"Master, master," cried Cornelius, seizing the jailer by the



arm and dragging him towards the window, -- "master, what

have I read down there?"



"Where down there?"

"On that placard."



And, trembling, pale, and gasping for breath, he pointed to

the gibbet at the other side of the yard, with the cynical



inscription surmounting it.

Gryphus broke out into a laugh.



"Eh! eh!" he answered, "so, you have read it. Well, my good

sir, that's what people will get for corresponding with the



enemies 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, his

arms hanging by his side, and his eyes closed.



"The brothers De Witt have been judged by the people," said

Gryphus; "you call that murdered, do you? well, I call it



executed."

And seeing that the prisoner was not only quiet, but



entirely 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 to

ignominious death.



And as he was a philosopher, and, more than that, as he was

a Christian, he began to pray for the soul of his godfather,



then for that of the Grand Pensionary, and at last submitted

with resignation to all the sufferings which God might



ordain for him.

Then turning again to the concerns of earth, and having



satisfied himself that he was alone in his dungeon, he drew

from his breast the three bulbs of the black tulip, and



concealed them behind a block of stone, on which the

traditional water-jug of the prison was standing, in the



darkest 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 his

own career was to be cut short. Here, in his prison, there



was not a trace of vegetation, not an atom of soil, not a

ray of sunshine.



At this thought Cornelius fell into a gloomydespair, from

which he was only aroused by an extraordinary circumstance.



What was this circumstance?

We shall inform the reader in our next chapter.



Chapter 10

The Jailer's Daughter



On the same evening Gryphus, as he brought the prisoner his

mess, slipped on the damp flags whilstopening the door of



the cell, and fell, in the attempt to steady himself, on his




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