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- Александр Дюма
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- Черный тюльпан
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- Стр. 47/292
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John
uttered
a
cry
of
agony
and
grief
,
and
put
one
of
his
hands
before
his
eyes
.
"
Oh
,
you
close
your
eyes
,
do
you
?
"
said
one
of
the
soldiers
of
the
burgher
guard
;
"
well
,
I
shall
open
them
for
you
.
"
And
saying
this
he
stabbed
him
with
his
pike
in
the
face
,
and
the
blood
spurted
forth
.
"
My
brother
!
"
cried
John
de
Witt
,
trying
to
see
through
the
stream
of
blood
which
blinded
him
,
what
had
become
of
Cornelius
;
"
my
brother
,
my
brother
!
"
"
Go
and
run
after
him
!
"
bellowed
another
murderer
,
putting
his
musket
to
his
temples
and
pulling
the
trigger
.
But
the
gun
did
not
go
off
.
The
fellow
then
turned
his
musket
round
,
and
,
taking
it
by
the
barrel
with
both
hands
,
struck
John
de
Witt
down
with
the
butt-end
.
John
staggered
and
fell
down
at
his
feet
,
but
,
raising
himself
with
a
last
effort
,
he
once
more
called
out
,
--
"
My
brother
!
"
with
a
voice
so
full
of
anguish
that
the
young
man
opposite
closed
the
shutter
.
There
remained
little
more
to
see
;
a
third
murderer
fired
a
pistol
with
the
muzzle
to
his
face
;
and
this
time
the
shot
took
effect
,
blowing
out
his
brains
.
John
de
Witt
fell
to
rise
no
more
.
On
this
,
every
one
of
the
miscreants
,
emboldened
by
his
fall
,
wanted
to
fire
his
gun
at
him
,
or
strike
him
with
blows
of
the
sledge-hammer
,
or
stab
him
with
a
knife
or
swords
,
every
one
wanted
to
draw
a
drop
of
blood
from
the
fallen
hero
,
and
tear
off
a
shred
from
his
garments
.
