“Wait a minute, papers like this are of importance, and are to be kept.”
Saying this, he folded up the document, and carefully put it in the pocket of his coat.
Then, turning round towards his troop, he gave the word of command,—
“Tilly’s dragoons, wheel to the right!”
After this, he added, in an undertone, yet loud enough for his words to be not altogether lost to those about him,—
“And now, ye butchers, do your work!”
A savage yell, in which all the keen hatred and ferocious triumph rife in the precincts of the prison simultaneously burst forth, and accompanied the departure of the dragoons, as they were quietly filing off.
The Count tarried behind, facing to the last the infuriated populace, which advanced at the same rate as the Count retired.
John de Witt, therefore, had by no means exaggerated the danger, when, assisting his brother in getting up, he hurried his departure. Cornelius, leaning on the arm of the Ex-Grand Pensionary, descended the stairs which led to the courtyard. At the bottom of the staircase he found little Rosa, trembling all over.
“Oh, Mynheer John,” she said, “what a misfortune!”