John looked at him in a troubled, earnest way.
“Forgive me,” said Cornelius, breathing heavily with pain. “I was under torture for two hours yesterday, and as my rheumatism made me sensitive … it has left me weak.… I cannot explain it all to you as I should wish.”
John wiped his brow, and then clenched his handkerchief in his hand.
“I must get you away; you are at least free, Cornelius.”
“No—I will appeal to the Grand Council against this unlawful sentence.”
“I dare not consent to any delay in your release.”
Cornelius answered proudly—
“Shall I leave this prison a condemned criminal when I am innocent?”
“Alas! I fear you will never obtain justice—only through my personal appeal to the Prince have the people been disappointed of your death.”
“The Prince!” repeated Cornelius fiercely. “I do not wish the pity of the Prince, but the justice of the States.”