Three times he felt, with a shudder, the cold current of air from the knife near his neck, but what a surprise! he felt neither pain nor shock. He saw no change in the colour of the sky, or of the world around him. Then suddenly Van Baerle felt gentle hands raising him, and soon stood on his feet again, although trembling a little. He looked around him. There was some one by his side, reading a large parchment, sealed with a huge seal of red wax. And the same sun, yellow and pale, as it behooves a Dutch sun to be, was shining in the skies; and the same grated window looked down upon him from the Buytenhof; and the same rabble, no longer yelling, but completely thunderstruck, were staring at him from the streets below. Van Baerle began to be sensible to what was going on around him. His Highness, William, Prince of Orange, very likely afraid that Van Baerle’s blood would turn the scale of judgment against him, had compassionately taken into consideration his good character, and the apparent proofs of his innocence. His Highness, accordingly, had granted him his life. Cornelius at first hoped that the pardon would be complete, and that he would be restored to his full liberty and to his flower borders at Dort. But Cornelius was mistaken. To use an expression of Madame de Sévigné, who wrote about the same time, “there was a postscript to the letter;” and the most important part of the letter was contained in the postscript. In this postscript, William of Orange, Stadtholder of Holland, condemned Cornelius van Baerle to imprisonment for life. He was not sufficiently guilty to suffer death, but he was too much so to be set at liberty. Cornelius heard this clause, but, the first feeling of vexation and disappointment over, he said to himself,-- “Never mind, all this is not lost yet; there is some good in this perpetual imprisonment; Rosa will be there, and also my three bulbs of the black tulip are there.” But Cornelius forgot that the Seven Provinces had seven prisons, one for each, and that the board of the prisoner is anywhere else less expensive than at the Hague, which is a capital. His Highness, who, as it seems, did not possess the means to feed Van Baerle at the Hague, sent him to undergo his perpetual imprisonment at the fortress of Loewestein, very near Dort, but, alas! also very far from it; for Loewestein, as the geographers tell us, is situated at the point of the islet which is formed by the confluence of the Waal and the Meuse, opposite Gorcum. Van Baerle was sufficiently versed in the history of his country to know that the celebrated Grotius was confined in that castle after the death of Barneveldt; and that the States, in their generosity to the illustrious publicist, jurist, historian, poet, and divine, had granted to him for his daily maintenance the sum of twenty-four stivers.