d Kneuterdyk and Vyverberg to the inner court of
the ancient palace. The cells within are dark, noisome, and dimly
lighted, and even to this day the very instruments of torture, used in
the trials of these and other prisoners, may be seen by the curious. Half
a century later the brothers de Witt were dragged from this prison to be
literally torn to pieces by an infuriated mob.

The misery of that midnight interview between the widow of Barneveld, her
daughter-in-law, and the condemned son and husband need not be described.
As the morning approached, the gaoler warned the matrons to take their
departure that the prisoner might sleep.

"What a woful widow you will be," said Groeneveld to his wife, as she
sank choking with tears upon the ground. The words suddenly aroused in
her the sense of respect for their name.

"At least for all this misery endured," she said firmly, "do me enough
honour to die like a gentleman." He promised it. The mother then took
leave of the son, and History drops a decorous veil henceforth over the
grief-stricken form of Mary of Barneveld.

Next morning the life-guards of the Stadholder and other troops were
drawn up in battle-array in the outer and inner courtyard of the supreme
tribunal and palace. At ten o'clock Groeneveld came forth from the
prison. The Stadholder had granted as a boon to the family that he might
be neither fettered nor guarded as he walked to the tribunal. The
prisoner did not forget his parting promise to his wife. He appeared
full-dressed in velvet cloak and plumed hat, with rapier by his side,
walking calmly through the inner courtyard to the great hall. Observing
the windows of the Stadholder's apartments crowded with spectators, among
whom he seemed to recognize the Prince's face, he took off his hat and
made a graceful and dignified salute. He greeted with courtesy many
acquaintances among the crowd through which he passed. He entered the
hall and listened in silence to the sentence condemning him to be
immediately executed with the sword. Van Dyk and Korenwinder shared the
same doom, but were provisionally taken back to prison.

Groeneveld then walked calmly and gracefully as before from the hall to
the scaffold, attended by his own valet, and preceded by the
provost-marshal and assistants. He was to suffer, not where his father
had been beheaded, but on the "Green Sod." This public place of execution
for ordinary criminals was singularly enough in the most elegan