11 ?" he asked.
"Yes, Captain," answered a non-commissioned officer.
"Then this is the cell of the prisoner Cornelius van Baerle ?" "Exactly, Captain." "Where is the prisoner ?" "Here I am, sir," answered Cornelius, growing rather pale, notwithstanding all his courage.
"You are Dr.Cornelius van Baerle ?" asked he, this time addressing the prisoner himself.
"Yes, sir." "Then follow me." "Oh! oh!" said Cornelius, whose heart felt oppressed by the first dread of death.

"What quick work they make here in the fortress of Loewestein.
And the rascal talked to me of twelve hours!" "Ah! what did I tell you ?" whispered the communicative guard in the ear of the culprit.
"A lie." "How so ?" "You promised me twelve hours." "Ah, yes, but here comes to you an aide-de-camp of his Highness, even one of his most intimate companions Van Deken.

Zounds! they did not grant such an honour to poor Mathias." "Come, come!" said Cornelius, drawing a long breath.

"Come, I'll show to these people that an honest burgher, godson of Cornelius de Witt, can without flinching receive as many musket-balls as that Mathias." Saying this, he passed proudly before the clerk, who, being interrupted in his work, ventured to say to the officer,-- "But, Captain van Deken, the protocol is not yet finished." "It is not worth while finishing it," answered the officer.
"All right," replied the clerk, philosophically putting up his paper and pen into a greasy and well-worn writing-case.
"It was written," thought poor Cornelius, "that I should not in this world give my name either to a child to a flower, or to a book,--the three things by which a man's memory is perpetuated." Repressing his melancholy thoughts, he followed the officer with a resolute heart, and carrying his head erect.
Cornelius counted the steps which led to the Esplanade, regretting that he had not asked the guard how many there were of them, which the man, in his official complaisance, would not have failed to tell him.
What the poor prisoner was most afraid of during this walk, which he considered as leading him to the end of the journey of life, was to see Gryphus and not to see Rosa.

What savage satisfaction would glisten in the eyes of the father, and what sorrow dim those of the daughter! How Gryphus would glory in his punishment! Punishment?
Rather savage vengeance for an eminently righteous deed, which Cornelius had the satisfaction of having performed as a bounden duty.
But Rosa, poor girl! must he die without a glimpse of her, without an opportunity to give her one last kiss, or even to say one last word of farewell?
And, worst of all, must he die without any intelligence of the black tulip, and regain his consciousness in heaven with no idea in what direction he should look to find it?
In truth, to restrain his tears at such a crisis the poor wretch's heart must have been encased in more of the aes triplex--"the triple brass"-- than Horace bestows upon the sailor who first visited the terrifying Acroceraunian shoals.
In vain did Cornelius look to the right and to the left; he saw no sign either of Rosa or Gryphus.
On reaching the Esplanade, he bravely looked about for the guards who were to be his executioners, and in reality saw a dozen soldiers assembled.