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

Horticultural Society.

Rosa, reassured by this sort of encouragement which the stranger was giving her, related all that had happened for the last three months, all that she had done, and all that she had suffered. She described the cruelty of Gryphus; the destruction of the first bulb; the grief of the prisoner; the precautions taken to insure the success of the second bulb; the patience of the prisoner and his anxiety during their separation; how he was about to starve himself because he had no longer any news of his tulip; his joy when she went to see him again; and, lastly, their despair when they found that the tulip which had come into flower was stolen just one hour after it had opened.

All this was detailed with an accent of truth which, although producing no change in the impassible mien of the Prince, did not fail to take effect on Van Systens.

“But,” said the Prince, “it cannot be long since you knew the prisoner.”

Rosa opened her large eyes and looked at the stranger, who drew back into the dark corner, as if he wished to escape her observation.

“Why, sir?” she asked him.

“Because it is not yet four months since the jailer Gryphus and his daughter were removed to Loewestein.”

“That is true, sir.”

“Otherwise, you must have solicited the transfer of your father, in order to be able to follow some prisoner who may have been transported from the Hague to Loewestein.”

“Sir,” said Rosa, blushing.

“Finish what you have to say,” said William.

“I confess I knew the prisoner at the Hague.”

“Happy prisoner!” said William, smiling.

At this moment the officer who had been sent for Boxtel returned, and announced to the Prince that the person whom he had been to fetch was following on his heels with his tulip.

XXVII The Third Bulb

Boxtel’s return was scarcely announced, when he entered in person the drawing-room of Mynheer van Systens, followed by two men, who carried in a box their precious burden and deposited it on a table.

The Prince, on being informed, left the cabinet, passed into the drawing-room, admired the flower, and silently resumed his seat in the dark corner, where he had himself placed his chair.

Rosa, trembling, pale and terrified, expected to be invited in her turn to see the tulip.

She now heard the voice of Boxtel.

“It is he!” she exclaimed.

The Prince made her a sign to go and look through the open door into the drawing-room.

“It is my tulip,” cried Rosa, “I recognise it. Oh, my poor Cornelius!”

And saying this she burst into tears.

The Prince rose from his seat, went to the door, where he stood for some time with the full light falling upon his figure.

As Rosa’s eyes now rested upon him, she felt more than ever convinced that this was not the first time she had seen the stranger.

“Master Boxtel,” said the Prince, “come in here, if you please.”

Boxtel eagerly approached, and, finding himself face to face with William of Orange, started back.

“His Highness!” he called out.

“His Highness!” Rosa repeated in dismay.

Hearing this exclamation on his left, Boxtel turned round, and perceived Rosa.

At this sight the whole frame of the thief shook as if under the influence of a galvanic shock.

“Ah!” muttered the Prince to himself, “he is confused.”

But Boxtel, making a violent effort to control his feelings, was already himself again.

“Master Boxtel,” said William, “you seem to have discovered the secret of growing the black tulip?”

“Yes, your Highness,” answered Boxtel, in a voice which still betrayed some confusion.

It is true his agitation might have been attributable to the emotion which the man must have felt on suddenly recognising the Prince.

“But,” continued the Stadtholder, “here is a young damsel who also pretends to have found it.”

Boxtel, with a disdainful smile, shrugged his shoulders.

William watched all his movements with evident interest and curiosity.

“Then you don’t know this young girl?” said the Prince.

“No, your Highness!”

“And you, child, do you know Master Boxtel?”

“No, I don’t know Master Boxtel, but I know Master Jacob.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean to say that at Loewestein the man who here calls himself Isaac Boxtel went by the name of Master Jacob.”

“What do you say to that, Master Boxtel?”

“I say that this damsel lies, your Highness.”

“You deny, therefore, having ever been at Loewestein?”

Boxtel hesitated; the fixed and searching glance of the proud eye of the Prince prevented him from lying.

“I cannot deny having been at Loewestein, your Highness, but I deny having stolen the tulip.”

“You have stolen it, and that from my room,” cried Rosa, with indignation.

“I deny it.”

“Now listen to me. Do you deny having followed me into the garden, on the day when I prepared the border where I was to plant it? Do you deny having followed me into the garden when I pretended to plant it? Do you deny that, on that evening, you rushed after my departure to the spot where you hoped to find the bulb? Do you deny having dug in the ground with your hands⁠—but, thank God! in vain, as it was a stratagem to discover your intentions. Say, do you deny all this?”

Boxtel did not deem it fit to answer these several charges, but, turning to the Prince, continued⁠—

“I have now for twenty years grown tulips at Dort. I have even acquired some reputation in this art; one of my hybrids is entered in the catalogue under the name of an illustrious personage. I have dedicated it to the King of Portugal. The truth in the matter is as I shall now tell your Highness. This damsel knew that I had produced the black tulip, and, in concert with a lover of hers in the fortress of Loewestein, she formed the plan of ruining me by appropriating to herself the prize of a hundred thousand guilders, which, with the help of your Highness’s justice, I hope to gain.”

“Yah!” cried Rosa, beyond herself with anger.

“Silence!” said the Prince.

Then, turning to Boxtel, he said⁠—

“And who is that prisoner to whom you allude as the lover of