“Read, Monseigneur, for Heaven’s sake, read!”
William handed the third sucker to Van Herysen, took the paper and read.
No sooner had he looked at it than he began to stagger; his hand trembled, and very nearly let the paperfall to the ground; and the expression of pain and compassion in his features was really frightful to see.
It was that fly-leaf, taken from the Bible, which Cornelius De Witte had sent to Dort by Craeke, the servant of his brother John, to request Van Baerle to burn the correspondence of the Grand Pensionary with the Marquis de Louvois.
This request, as the reader may remember, was couched in the following terms:—
My Dear Godson,
“Burn the parcel which I have entrusted to you. Burn it, without looking at it and without opening it, so that its contents may remain unknown to yourself. Secrets of this description are death to those with whom they are deposited. Burn it, and you will have saved John and Cornelius De Witte.
“Farewell, and love me.
“20th of August, 1672.”
This slip of paper offered the proofs both of Van Baerle’s innocence and of his claim to the property of the tulip.
Rosa and the Stadtholder exchanged one look only.
That of Rosa was meant to express, “Here, you see yourself.”
That of the Stadtholder signified, “Be quiet, and wait.”
The Prince wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and slowly folded up the paper, whilst his thoughts
