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Page 120
"Go, Mr. Boxtel; justice shall be done, I promise you."
Then, turning to the President, he added, --
"You, my dear Mynheer van Systens, take charge of this young
woman and of the tulip. Good-bye."
All bowed, and the Prince left, among the deafening cheers
of the crowd outside.
Boxtel returned to his inn, rather puzzled and uneasy,
tormented by misgivings about that paper which William had
received from the hand of Rosa, and which his Highness had
read, folded up, and so carefully put in his pocket. What
was the meaning of all this?
Rosa went up to the tulip, tenderly kissed its leaves and,
with a heart full of happiness and confidence in the ways of
God, broke out in the words, --
"Thou knowest best for what end Thou madest my good
Cornelius teach me to read."
Chapter 28
The Hymn of the Flowers
Whilst the events we have described in our last chapter were
taking place, the unfortunate Van Baerle, forgotten in his
cell in the fortress of Loewestein, suffered at the hands of
Gryphus all that a prisoner can suffer when his jailer has
formed the determination of playing the part of hangman.
Gryphus, not having received any tidings of Rosa or of
Jacob, persuaded himself that all that had happened was the
devil's work, and that Dr. Cornelius van Baerle had been
sent on earth by Satan.
The result of it was, that, one fine morning, the third
after the disappearance of Jacob and Rosa, he went up to the
cell of Cornelius in even a greater rage than usual.
The latter, leaning with his elbows on the window-sill and
supporting his head with his two hands, whilst his eyes
wandered over the distant hazy horizon where the windmills
of Dort were turning their sails, was breathing the fresh
air, in order to be able to keep down his tears and to
fortify himself in his philosophy.
The pigeons were still there, but hope was not there; there
was no future to look forward to.
Alas! Rosa, being watched, was no longer able to come. Could
she not write? and if so, could she convey her letters to
him?
No, no. He had seen during the two preceding days too much
fury and malignity in the eyes of old Gryphus to expect that
his vigilance would relax, even for one moment. Moreover,
had not she to suffer even worse torments than those of
seclusion and separation? Did this brutal, blaspheming,
drunken bully take revenge on his daughter, like the
ruthless fathers of the Greek drama? And when the Genievre
had heated his brain, would it not give to his arm, which
had been only too well set by Cornelius, even double force?
The idea that Rosa might perhaps be ill-treated nearly drove
Cornelius mad.
He then felt his own powerlessness. He asked himself whether
God was just in inflicting so much tribulation on two
innocent creatures. And certainly in these moments he began
to doubt the wisdom of Providence. It is one of the curses
of misfortune that it thus begets doubt.
Van Baerle had proposed to write to Rosa, but where was she?
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