The Black Tulip | Page 9

of the great care
which the mysterious person evidently took to hide himself.
He was plainly dressed, and apparently unarmed; his arm was lean but
wiry, and his hands dry, but of an aristocratic whiteness and delicacy,
and he leaned on the shoulder of an officer, who, with his hand on his
sword, had watched the scenes in the Buytenhof with eager curiosity,
very natural in a military man, until his companion drew him away
with him.
On arriving at the square of the Hoogstraet, the man with the sallow
face pushed the other behind an open shutter, from which corner he
himself began to survey the balcony of the Town-hall.
At the savage yells of the mob, the window of the Town-hall opened,
and a man came forth to address the people.
"Who is that on the balcony?" asked the young man, glancing at 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 showed signs of
such a strange disappointment and evident dissatisfaction that the
officer could not but remark it, and therefore added, --
"At least people say so, Monseigneur. I cannot say anything about it
myself, as I have no personal acquaintance with Mynheer Bowelt."
"An honest man," repeated he who was addressed as Monseigneur; "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 draw such
a fine distinction in the case of a man whom, I assure your 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 a very queer reception."
The nervous quiver of his hand, which moved on the shoulder of his
companion as the fingers of a player on the keys of a harpsichord,
betrayed his burning impatience, so ill concealed 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 heard addressing
an interpellation to Mynheer Bowelt, whom he requested to let them
know where the other deputies, his colleagues, were.
"Gentlemen," Bowelt repeated for the second time, "I assure you that in
this moment I am here alone with Mynheer d'Asperen, and I cannot
take any resolution on my own responsibility."
"The order! we want the order!" cried several thousand voices.

Mynheer Bowelt wished to speak, but his words were not heard, and he
was only seen moving his arms in all sorts of gestures, which plainly
showed that he felt his position to be desperate. When, at last, he saw
that he could not make himself heard, he turned round towards the open
window, and called Mynheer d'Asperen.
The latter gentleman now made his appearance on the balcony, where
he was saluted with shouts even more energetic than those with which,
ten minutes before, his colleague had been received.
This did not prevent him from undertaking the difficult task of
haranguing the mob; but the mob preferred forcing the guard of the
States -- which, however, offered no resistance to the sovereign people
-- to listening to the speech of Mynheer d'Asperen.
"Now, then," the young man coolly remarked, whilst the crowd was
rushing into the principal gate of the Town-hall, "it seems the question
will be discussed indoors, Captain. Come along, and let us hear the
debate."
"Oh, Monseigneur! Monseigneur! take care!"
"Of what?"
"Among these deputies there are many who have had dealings with you,
and it would be sufficient, that one of them should recognize your
Highness."
"Yes, that I might be charged with having been the instigator of all this
work, indeed, you are right," said the young man, blushing for a
moment from regret of having betrayed so much eagerness. "From this
place we shall see them return with or without the order for the
withdrawal of the dragoons, then we may judge which is greater,
Mynheer Bowelt's honesty or his courage."
"But," replied the officer, looking with astonishment at the personage
whom he addressed as Monseigneur, "but your Highness surely does
not suppose for one instant that the deputies 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 warrant of
Cornelius and John de Witt."
"We shall see," his Highness replied, with the most perfect coolness;
"God alone knows what is going on within the hearts of men."
The officer looked askance at the impassible figure of his companion,
and grew pale: he was