looking at at this moment is neither more nor less than the
black tulip.”
“The black tulip!” replied Van Baerle, thrusting half his
body out of the carriage window. “Where is it? where is it?”
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Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip
“Down there on the throne, — don’t you see?”
“I do see it.”
“Come along, sir,” said the officer. “Now we must drive
off.”
“Oh, have pity, have mercy, sir!” said Van Baerle, “don’t
take me away! Let me look once more! Is what I see down
there the black tulip? Quite black? Is it possible? Oh, sir,
have you seen it? It must have specks, it must be imperfect,
it must only be dyed black. Ah! if I were there, I should
see it at once. Let me alight, let me see it close, I beg of
you.”
“Are you mad, Sir? How could I allow such a thing?”
“I implore you.”
“But you forget that you are a prisoner.”
“It is true I am a prisoner, but I am a man of honour, and I
promise you on my word that I will not run away, I will not
attempt to escape, — only let me see the flower.”
“But my orders, Sir, my orders.” And the officer again made
the driver a sign to proceed.
Cornelius stopped him once more.
“Oh, be forbearing, be generous! my whole life depends upon
your pity. Alas! perhaps it will not be much longer. You
don’t know, sir, what I suffer. You don’t know the struggle
going on in my heart and mind. For after all,” Cornelius
cried in despair, “if this were my tulip, if it were the one
which has been stolen from Rosa! Oh, I must alight, sir! I
must see the flower! You may kill me afterwards if you like,
but I will see it, I must see it.”
“Be quiet, unfortunate man, and come quickly back into the
carriage, for here is the escort of his Highness the
Stadtholder, and if the Prince observed any disturbance, or
heard any noise, it would be ruin to me, as well as to you.”
Van Baerle, more afraid for his companion than himself,
threw himself back into the carriage, but he could only keep
quiet for half a minute, and the first twenty horsemen had
scarcely passed when he again leaned out of the carriage
window, gesticulating imploringly towards the Stadtholder at
the very moment when he passed.
William, impassible and quiet as usual, was proceeding to
the green to fulfil his duty as chairman. He held in his
hand the roll of parchment, which, on this festive day, had
become his baton.
Seeing the man gesticulate with imploring mien, and perhaps
also recognising the officer who accompanied him, his
Highness ordered his carriage to stop.
In an instant his snorting steeds stood still, at a distance
of about six yards from the carriage in which Van Baerle was
caged.
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“What is this?” the Prince asked the officer, who at the
first order of the Stadtholder had jumped out of the
carriage, and was respectfully approaching him.
“Monseigneur,” he cried, “this is the prisoner of state whom
I have fetched from Loewestein, and whom I have brought to
Haarlem according to your Highness’s command.”
“What does he want?”
“He entreats for permission to stop here for minute.”
“To see the black tulip, Monseigneur,” said Van Baerle,
clasping his hands, “and when I have seen it, when I have
seen what I desire to know, I am quite ready to die, if die
I must; but in dying I shall bless your Highness’s mercy for
having allowed me to witness the glorification of my work.”
It was, indeed, a curious spectacle to see these two men at
the windows of their several carriages; the one surrounded
by his guards, and all powerful, the other a prisoner and
miserable; the one going to mount a throne, the other
believing himself to be on his way to the scaffold.
William, looking with his cold glance on Cornelius, listened
to his anxious and urgent request.
Then addressing himself to the officer, he said, —