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?
He also would have wished to write to the Hague to be beforehand with Gryphus, who, he had no doubt, would by denouncing him do his best to bring new storms on his head.
But how should he write?
Gryphus had taken the paper and pencil from him, and even if he had both, he could hardly expect Gryphus to despatch his letter.
Then Cornelius revolved in his mind all those stratagems resorted to by unfortunate prisoners.
He had thought of an attempt to escape, a thing which never entered his head whilst he could see Rosa every day; but the more he thought of it, the more clearly he saw the impracticability of such an attempt.

He was one of those choice spirits who abhor everything that is common, and who often lose a good chance through not taking the way of the vulgar, that high road of mediocrity which leads to everything.
"How is it possible," said Cornelius to himself, "that I should escape from Loewestein, as Grotius has done the same thing before me?
Has not every precaution been taken since?
Are not the windows barred?
Are not the doors of double and even of treble strength, and the sentinels ten times more watchful?
And have not I, besides all this, an Argus so much the more dangerous as he has the keen eyes of hatred?
Finally, is there not one fact which takes away all my spirit, I mean Rosa's absence?
But suppose I should waste ten years of my life in making a file to file off my bars, or in braiding cords to let myself down from the window, or in sticking wings on my shoulders to fly, like Daedalus?
But luck is against me now.

The file would get dull, the rope would break, or my wings would melt in the sun; I should surely kill myself, I should be picked up maimed and crippled; I should be labelled, and put on exhibition in the museum at the Hague between the blood-stained doublet of William the Taciturn and the female walrus captured at Stavesen, and the only result of my enterprise will have been to procure me a place among the curiosities of Holland.
"But no; and it is much better so.

Some fine day Gryphus will commit some atrocity.