The soldiers smoke, guzzle, and get
drunk; they are gentle as lambs if you only give them brandy or Moselle,
but scholars, and drink, smoke, and fuddle--ah, yes, that's altogether
different. They keep sober, spend nothing, and have their heads always
clear to make conspiracies. But I tell you, at the very outset, it won't
be such an easy matter for you to conspire. First of all, you will
have no books, no paper, and no conjuring book. It's books that helped
Mynheer Grotius to get off."

"I assure you, Master Gryphus," replied Van Baerle, "that if I have
entertained the idea of escaping, I most decidedly have it no longer."

"Well, well," said Gryphus, "just look sharp: that's what I shall do
also. But, for all that, I say his Highness has made a great mistake."

"Not to have cut off my head? thank you, Master Gryphus."

"Just so, look whether the Mynheer de Witt don't keep very quiet now."

"That's very shocking what you say now, Master Gryphus," cried Van
Baerle, turning away his head to conceal his disgust. "You forget that
one of those unfortunate gentlemen was my friend, and the other my
second father."

"Yes, but I also remember that the one, as well as the other, was a
conspirator. And, moreover, I am speaking from Christian charity."

"Oh, indeed! explain that a little to me, my good Master Gryphus. I do
not quite understand it."

"Well, then, if you had remained on the block of Master Harbruck----"

"What?"

"You would not suffer any longer; whereas, I will not disguise it from
you, I shall lead you a sad life of it."

"Thank you for the promise, Master Gryphus."

And whilst the prisoner smiled ironically at the old jailer, Rosa, from
the outside, answered by a bright smile, which carried sweet consolation
to the heart of Van Baerle.

Gryphus stepped towards the window.

It was still light enough to see, although indistinctly, through the
gray haze of the evening, the vast expanse of the horizon.

"What view has one from here?" asked Gryphus.

"Why, a very fine and pleasant one," said Cornelius, looking at Rosa.

"Yes, yes, too much of a view, too much."

And at this moment the two pigeons, scared by the sight and especially
by the voice of the stranger, left their nest, and disappeared, quite
frightened in the evening mist.

"Halloa! what's this?" cried Gryphus.

"My pigeons," answered Cornelius.

"Your pigeons," cried the jailer, "your pigeons! has a prisoner anything
of his own?"