The Black Tulip, Alexandre Dumas [portable ebook reader .txt] 📗

chamber since I put it there.”

“You are right Rosa, it is your dowry, you know.”

“Yes, and with it I may marry a young man of twenty-six or twenty-eight years, whom I shall be in love with.”

“Don’t talk in that way, you naughty girl.”

That evening Cornelius was one of the happiest of men. Rosa allowed him to press her hand in his, and to keep it as long as he would, besides which he might talk of his tulip as much as he liked.

From that hour every day marked some progress in the growth of the tulip and in the affection of the two young people.

At one time it was that the leaves had expanded, and at another that the flower itself had formed.

Great was the joy of Cornelius at this news, and his questions succeeded one another with a rapidity which gave proof of their importance.

“Formed!” exclaimed Cornelius, “is it really formed?”

“It is,” repeated Rosa.

Cornelius trembled with joy, so much so that he was obliged to hold by the grating.

“Good heavens!” he exclaimed.

Then, turning again to Rosa, he continued his questions.

“Is the oval regular? the cylinder full? and are the points very green?”

“The oval is almost one inch long, and tapers like a needle, the cylinder swells at the sides, and the points are ready to open.”

Two days after Rosa announced that they were open.

“Open, Rosa!” cried Cornelius. “Is the involucrum open? but then one may see and already distinguish⁠—”

Here the prisoner paused, anxiously taking breath.

“Yes,” answered Rosa, “one may already distinguish a thread of different colour, as thin as a hair.”

“And its colour?” asked Cornelius, trembling.

“Oh,” answered Rosa, “it is very dark!”

“Brown?”

“Darker than that.”

“Darker, my good Rosa, darker? Thank you. Dark as⁠—”

“Dark as the ink with which I wrote to you.”

Cornelius uttered a cry of mad joy.

Then, suddenly stopping and clasping his hands, he said⁠—

“Oh, there is not an angel in heaven that may be compared to you, Rosa!”

“Indeed!” said Rosa, smiling at his enthusiasm.

“Rosa, you have worked with such ardour⁠—you have done so much for me! Rosa, my tulip is about to flower, and it will flower black! Rosa, Rosa, you are the most perfect being on earth!”

“After the tulip, though.”

“Ah! be quiet, you malicious little creature, be quiet! For shame! Do not spoil my pleasure. But tell me, Rosa⁠—as the tulip is so far advanced, it will flower in two or three days, at the latest?”

“Tomorrow, or the day after.”

“Ah! and I shall not see it,” cried Cornelius, starting back, “I shall not kiss it, as a wonderful work of the Almighty, as I kiss your hand and your cheek, Rosa, when by chance they are near the grating.”

Rosa drew near, not by accident, but intentionally, and Cornelius kissed her tenderly.

“Faith, I shall cull it, if you wish it.”

“Oh, no, no, Rosa! when it is open, place it carefully in the shade, and immediately send a message to Haarlem, to the President of the Horticultural Society, that the grand black tulip is in flower. I know well it is far to Haarlem, but with money you will find a messenger. Have you any money, Rosa?”

Rosa smiled.

“Oh, yes!” she said.

“Enough?” said Cornelius.

“I have three hundred guilders.”

“Oh, if you have three hundred guilders, you must not send a messenger, Rosa, but you must go to Haarlem yourself.”

“But what in the meantime is to become of the flower?”

“Oh, the flower! you must take it with you. You understand that you must not separate from it for an instant.”

“But whilst I am not separating from it, I am separating from you, Mynheer Cornelius.”

“Ah! that’s true, my sweet Rosa. Oh, my God! how wicked men are! What have I done to offend them, and why have they deprived me of my liberty? You are right, Rosa, I cannot live without you. Well, you will send someone to Haarlem⁠—that’s settled; really, the matter is wonderful enough for the President to put himself to some trouble. He will come himself to Loewestein to see the tulip.”

Then, suddenly checking himself, he said, with a faltering voice⁠—

“Rosa, Rosa, if after all it should not flower black!”

“Oh, surely, surely, you will know tomorrow, or the day after.”

“And to wait until evening to know it, Rosa! I shall die with impatience. Could we not agree about a signal?”

“I shall do better than that.”

“What will you do?”

“If it opens at night, I shall come and tell you myself. If it is day, I shall pass your door, and slip you a note either under the door, or through the grating, during the time between my father’s first and second inspection.”

“Yes, Rosa, let it be so. One word of yours, announcing this news to me, will be a double happiness.”

“There, ten o’clock strikes,” said Rosa, “I must now leave you.”

“Yes, yes,” said Cornelius, “go, Rosa, go!”

Rosa withdrew, almost melancholy, for Cornelius had all but sent her away.

It is true that he did so in order that she might watch over his black tulip.

XXII The Opening of the Flower

The night passed away very sweetly for Cornelius, although in great agitation. Every instant he fancied he heard the gentle voice of Rosa calling him. He then started up, went to the door, and looked through the grating, but no one was behind it, and the lobby was empty.

Rosa, no doubt, would be watching too, but, happier than he, she watched over the tulip; she had before her eyes that noble flower, that wonder of wonders, which not only was unknown, but was not even thought possible until then.

What would the world say when it heard that the black tulip was found, that it existed and that it was the prisoner Van Baerle who had found it?

How Cornelius would have spurned the offer of his liberty in exchange for his tulip!

Day came, without any news; the tulip was not yet in flower.

The day passed as the night. Night came, and with it Rosa, joyous and cheerful as a bird.

“Well?” asked Cornelius.

“Well, all is going on prosperously. This