Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

boldness. Well, Rosa, I loved flowers dearly, and I have

found, or at least I believe so, the secret of the great

black tulip, which it has been considered impossible to

grow, and for which, as you know, or may not know, a prize

of a hundred thousand guilders has been offered by the

Horticultural Society of Haarlem. These hundred thousand

guilders — and Heaven knows I do not regret them — these

hundred thousand guilders I have here in this paper, for

they are won by the three bulbs wrapped up in it, which you

may take, Rosa, as I make you a present of them.”

“Mynheer Cornelius!”

“Yes, yes, Rosa, you may take them; you are not wronging any

one, my child. I am alone in this world; my parents are

dead; I never had a sister or a brother. I have never had a

thought of loving any one with what is called love, and if

any one has loved me, I have not known it. However, you see

well, Rosa, that I am abandoned by everybody, as in this sad

hour you alone are with me in my prison, consoling and

assisting me.”

“But, sir, a hundred thousand guilders!”

“Well, let us talk seriously, my dear child: those hundred

thousand guilders will be a nice marriage portion, with your

pretty face; you shall have them, Rosa, dear Rosa, and I ask

nothing in return but your promise that you will marry a

fine young man, whom you love, and who will love you, as

dearly as I loved my flowers. Don’t interrupt me, Rosa dear,

I have only a few minutes more.”

The poor girl was nearly choking with her sobs.

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Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

Cornelius took her by the hand.

“Listen to me,” he continued: “I’ll tell you how to manage

it. Go to Dort and ask Butruysheim, my gardener, for soil

from my border number six, fill a deep box with it, and

plant in it these three bulbs. They will flower next May,

that is to say, in seven months; and, when you see the

flower forming on the stem, be careful at night to protect

them from the wind, and by day to screen them from the sun.

They will flower black, I am quite sure of it. You are then

to apprise the President of the Haarlem Society. He will

cause the color of the flower to be proved before a

committee and these hundred thousand guilders will be paid

to you.”

Rosa heaved a deep sigh.

“And now,” continued Cornelius, — wiping away a tear which

was glistening in his eye, and which was shed much more for

that marvellous black tulip which he was not to see than for

the life which he was about to lose, — “I have no wish

left, except that the tulip should be called Rosa

Barlaensis, that is to say, that its name should combine

yours and mine; and as, of course, you do not understand

Latin, and might therefore forget this name, try to get for

me pencil and paper, that I may write it down for you.”

Rosa sobbed afresh, and handed to him a book, bound in

shagreen, which bore the initials C. W.

“What is this?” asked the prisoner.

“Alas!” replied Rosa, “it is the Bible of your poor

godfather, Cornelius de Witt. From it he derived strength to

endure the torture, and to bear his sentence without

flinching. I found it in this cell, after the death of the

martyr, and have preserved it as a relic. To-day I brought

it to you, for it seemed to me that this book must possess

in itself a divine power. Write in it what you have to

write, Mynheer Cornelius; and though, unfortunately, I am

not able to read, I will take care that what you write shall

be accomplished.”

Cornelius took the Bible, and kissed it reverently.

“With what shall I write?” asked Cornelius.

“There is a pencil in the Bible,” said Rosa.

This was the pencil which John de Witt had lent to his

brother, and which he had forgotten to take away with him.