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- Александр Дюма
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- Черный тюльпан
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- Стр. 266/292
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"
It
is
not
worth
while
finishing
it
,
"
answered
the
officer
.
"
All
right
,
"
replied
the
clerk
,
philosophically
putting
up
his
paper
and
pen
into
a
greasy
and
well-worn
writing-case
.
"
It
was
written
,
"
thought
poor
Cornelius
,
"
that
I
should
not
in
this
world
give
my
name
either
to
a
child
to
a
flower
,
or
to
a
book
,
--
the
three
things
by
which
a
man
's
memory
is
perpetuated
.
"
Repressing
his
melancholy
thoughts
,
he
followed
the
officer
with
a
resolute
heart
,
and
carrying
his
head
erect
.
Cornelius
counted
the
steps
which
led
to
the
Esplanade
,
regretting
that
he
had
not
asked
the
guard
how
many
there
were
of
them
,
which
the
man
,
in
his
official
complaisance
,
would
not
have
failed
to
tell
him
.
What
the
poor
prisoner
was
most
afraid
of
during
this
walk
,
which
he
considered
as
leading
him
to
the
end
of
the
journey
of
life
,
was
to
see
Gryphus
and
not
to
see
Rosa
.
What
savage
satisfaction
would
glisten
in
the
eyes
of
the
father
,
and
what
sorrow
dim
those
of
the
daughter
!
How
Gryphus
would
glory
in
his
punishment
!
Punishment
?
Rather
savage
vengeance
for
an
eminently
righteous
deed
,
which
Cornelius
had
the
satisfaction
of
having
performed
as
a
bounden
duty
.
But
Rosa
,
poor
girl
!
must
he
die
without
a
glimpse
of
her
,
without
an
opportunity
to
give
her
one
last
kiss
,
or
even
to
say
one
last
word
of
farewell
?
And
,
worst
of
all
,
must
he
die
without
any
intelligence
of
the
black
tulip
,
and
regain
his
consciousness
in
heaven
with
no
idea
in
what
direction
he
should
look
to
find
it
?
In
truth
,
to
restrain
his
tears
at
such
a
crisis
the
poor
wretch
's
heart
must
have
been
encased
in
more
of
the
aes
triplex
--
"
the
triple
brass
"
--
than
Horace
bestows
upon
the
sailor
who
first
visited
the
terrifying
Acroceraunian
shoals
.
