A Last Request

           Atthissolemnmoment,andwhilstthecheersstillresounded,acarriagewasdrivingalongtheroadontheoutskirtsofthegreenonwhichthesceneoccurred;itpursueditswayslowly,onaccountoftheflocksofchildrenwhowerepushedoutoftheavenuebythecrowdofmenandwomen.

           Thiscarriage,coveredwithdust,andcreakingonitsaxles,theresultofalongjourney,enclosedtheunfortunateVanBaerle,whowasjustbeginningtogetaglimpsethroughtheopenwindowofthescenewhichwehavetried—withpoorsuccess,nodoubt—topresenttotheeyesofthereader.

           Thecrowdandthenoiseandthedisplayofartificialandnaturalmagnificencewereasdazzlingtotheprisonerasarayoflightflashingsuddenlyintohisdungeon.

           Notwithstandingthelittlereadinesswhichhiscompanionhadshowninansweringhisquestionsconcerninghisfate,heventuredoncemoretoaskthemeaningofallthisbustle,whichatfirstsightseemedtobeutterlydisconnectedwithhisownaffairs.

           “Whatisallthis,pray,MynheerLieutenant?”heaskedofhisconductor.

           “Asyoumaysee,sir,”repliedtheofficer,“itisafeast.”

           “Ah,afeast,”saidCornelius,inthesadtoneofindifferenceofamantowhomnojoyremainsinthisworld.

           Then,aftersomemoments,silence,duringwhichthecarriagehadproceededafewyards,heaskedoncemore,—

           “ThefeastofthepatronsaintofHaarlem?asIseesomanyflowers.”

           “Itis,indeed,afeastinwhichflowersplayaprincipalpart.”

           “Oh,thesweetscents!oh,thebeautifulcolours!”criedCornelius.