“Well—but failing. He is engaged on a book of meditations, he writes them down in the evenings.…”
“I should have liked,” said Cornelius, “to see him again.”
He was under no delusions as to his own fate, his one hope was to save his brother.
“You shall see him,” answered John firmly, though his heart swelled with choking anguish. “We shall get out of this. Why, these people are our countrymen—they are not murderers.”
“John, I was doomed since that day in Dordt,” returned Cornelius. “How they howl! I wonder why they hate us so?”
His eyes narrowed as he listened to the noise rising from the Plaats.
Neither spoke until they had finished their meal, each eating to maintain this show of calm before the other.
At the end, John rose and went again to the window.
He could not forbear a start.