pleasure at being relieved from the necessity of witnessing
the shocking spectacle of the murder of the other brother.

He had scarcely left the room, when John -- who, with an
almost superhuman effort, had reached the stone steps of a
house nearly opposite that where his former pupil concealed
himself -- began to stagger under the blows which were
inflicted on him from all sides, calling out, --

"My brother! where is my brother?"

One of the ruffians knocked off his hat with a blow of his
clenched fist.

Another showed to him his bloody hands; for this fellow had
ripped open Cornelius and disembowelled him, and was now
hastening to the spot in order not to lose the opportunity
of serving the Grand Pensionary in the same manner, whilst
they were dragging the dead body of Cornelius to the gibbet.

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