"You must leave! Go quickly, I implore you, in the name of your wife and daughters. Depart!"
"Tilly," replied John De Witt. "I am not devoid of courage. I should at least know the cause of your alarm!"
"Yes; you have a strong soul; yes, you sustain the blows of adversity with the serenity of an upright man—but however strong your soul, it is at the same time susceptible of great tenderness for the objects of your affection—you feel the smart of the blows that strike them—and—"
"My brother!" cried John De Witt turning pale and breaking in upon Monsieur Tilly. "It is about my brother!"
"Ask me no more questions—embrace your wife and daughters—and leave The Hague on the spot—you must not delay an instant!"
"But my brother—my dear and good brother—what has befallen him?"
"In God's name, spend no time with questions—depart—a few minutes more and it will be too late."
A tremor ran over John De Witt's frame. He wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and overpowering his emotion, bowed to Salaun Lebrenn and his son, saying to them in a firm voice: "You will have to excuse me, my friends, if I leave you. I can not remain any longer in this painful uncertainty regarding my brother's fate. I shall hurry to the castle, where he is confined."
"John!" broke in Monsieur Tilly, throwing himself in the way of the Grand Pensionary of Holland. "You shall not go there! By God! You shall not go to the castle—I shall tell you all—"
"They have killed him!" cried John De Witt in heartrending accents. "Unhappy me, they have killed him!"