Черный тюльпан
The Hymn of the Flowers
”
“Ah,youaccursedsorcerer!youaremakinggameofme,Ibelieve,”roaredGryphus.
Corneliuscontinued:—
“Forheavenisourhome,Ourtruehome,asfromthencecomesoursoul,Asthitheroursoulreturns,—Oursoul,thatistosay,ourperfume.”
Gryphuswentuptotheprisonerandsaid,—
“Butyoudon’tseethatIhavetakenmeanstogetyouunder,andtoforceyoutoconfessyourcrimes.”
“Areyoumad,mydearMasterGryphus?”askedCornelius.
And,ashenowforthefirsttimeobservedthefrenziedfeatures,theflashingeyes,andfoamingmouthoftheoldjailer,hesaid,—
“Blesstheman,heismorethanmad,heisfurious.”
Gryphusflourishedhisstickabovehishead,butVanBaerlemovednot,andremainedstandingwithhisarmsakimbo.
“Itseemsyourintentiontothreatenme,MasterGryphus.”
“Yes,indeed,Ithreatenyou,”criedthejailer.
“Andwithwhat?”
“Firstofall,lookatwhatIhaveinmyhand.”
“Ithinkthat’sastick,”saidCorneliuscalmly,“butIdon’tsupposeyouwillthreatenmewiththat.”
“Oh,youdon’tsuppose!whynot?”
“Becauseanyjailerwhostrikesaprisonerisliabletotwopenalties,—thefirstlaiddowninArticle9oftheregulationsatLoewestein:—
“‘Anyjailer,inspector,orturnkeywholayshandsuponanyprisonerofStatewillbedismissed.’”
“Yes,wholayshands,”saidGryphus,madwithrage,“butthereisnotawordaboutastickintheregulation.
