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- Александр Дюма
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"
Faith
,
sir
,
they
say
--
but
it
is
not
quite
sure
--
that
by
this
hour
the
burghers
must
be
murdering
Mynheer
Cornelius
and
Mynheer
John
de
Witt
.
"
"
Oh
,
"
muttered
,
or
rather
growled
Boxtel
,
closing
his
eyes
from
the
dreadful
picture
which
presented
itself
to
his
imagination
.
"
Why
,
to
be
sure
,
"
said
the
servant
to
himself
,
whilst
leaving
the
room
,
"
Mynheer
Isaac
Boxtel
must
be
very
sick
not
to
have
jumped
from
his
bed
on
hearing
such
good
news
.
"
And
,
in
reality
,
Isaac
Boxtel
was
very
sick
,
like
a
man
who
has
murdered
another
.
But
he
had
murdered
his
man
with
a
double
object
;
the
first
was
attained
,
the
second
was
still
to
be
attained
.
Night
closed
in
.
It
was
the
night
which
Boxtel
had
looked
forward
to
.
As
soon
as
it
was
dark
he
got
up
.
He
then
climbed
into
his
sycamore
.
He
had
calculated
correctly
;
no
one
thought
of
keeping
watch
over
the
garden
;
the
house
and
the
servants
were
all
in
the
utmost
confusion
.
He
heard
the
clock
strike
--
ten
,
eleven
,
twelve
.
