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The Black Tulip-Part16_Alexandre Dumas(1802-1870)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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among all the causes of death against which a cautious man

may guard, I should never have supposed this to be



comprised."

On this answer, the Recorder saluted Van Baerle with all



that consideration which such functionaries generally bestow

upon great criminals of every sort.



But whilst he was about to withdraw, Cornelius asked, "By

the bye, Mr. Recorder, what day is the thing -- you know



what I mean -- to take place?"

"Why, to-day," answered the Recorder, a little surprised by



the self-possession of the condemned man.

A sob was heard behind the door, and Cornelius turned round



to look from whom it came; but Rosa, who had foreseen this

movement, had fallen back.



"And," continued Cornelius, "what hour is appointed?"

"Twelve o'clock, sir."



"Indeed," said Cornelius, "I think I heard the clock strike

ten about twenty minutes ago; I have not much time to



spare."

"Indeed you have not, if you wish to make your peace with



God," said the Recorder, bowing to the ground. "You may ask

for any clergyman you please."



Saying these words he went out backwards, and the assistant

turnkey was going to follow him, and to lock the door of



Cornelius's cell, when a white and trembling arm interposed

between him and the heavy door.



Cornelius saw nothing but the golden brocade cap, tipped

with lace, such as the Frisian girls wore; he heard nothing



but some one whispering into the ear of the turnkey. But the

latter put his heavy keys into the white hand which was



stretched out to receive them, and, descending some steps,

sat down on the staircase which was thus guarded above by



himself, and below by the dog. The head-dress turned round,

and Cornelius beheld the face of Rosa, blanched with grief,



and her beautiful eyes streaming with tears.

She went up to Cornelius, crossing her arms on her heaving



breast.

"Oh, sir, sir!" she said, but sobs choked her utterance.



"My good girl," Cornelius replied with emotion, "what do you

wish? I may tell you that my time on earth is short."



"I come to ask a favour of you," said Rosa, extending her

arms partly towards him and partly towards heaven.



"Don't weep so, Rosa," said the prisoner, "for your tears go

much more to my heart than my approaching fate, and you



know, the less guilty a prisoner is, the more it is his duty

to die calmly, and even joyfully, as he dies a martyr. Come,



there's a dear, don't cry any more, and tell me what you

want, my pretty Rosa."



She fell on her knees. "Forgive my father," she said.

"Your father, your father!" said Cornelius, astonished.



"Yes, he has been so harsh to you; but it is his nature, he

is so to every one, and you are not the only one whom he has



bullied."

"He is punished, my dear Rosa, more than punished, by the



accident that has befallen him, and I forgive him."

"I thank you, sir," said Rosa. "And now tell me -- oh, tell



me -- can I do anything for you?"

"You can dry your beautiful eyes, my dear child," answered



Cornelius, with a good-tempered smile.

"But what can I do for you, -- for you I mean?"



"A man who has only one hour longer to live must be a great

Sybarite still to want anything, my dear Rosa."



"The clergyman whom they have proposed to you?"

"I have worshipped God all my life, I have worshipped Him in



His works, and praised Him in His decrees. I am at peace

with Him and do not wish for a clergyman. The last thought



which occupies my mind, however has reference to the glory

of the Almighty, and, indeed, my dear, I should ask you to



help me in carrying out this last thought."




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