Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

slightly mixed with sand, rather moist than dry without a

fragment of stone or pebble.”

“Well done, Rosa, well done.”

“I am now only waiting for your further orders to put in the

bulb, you know that I must be behindhand with you, as I have

in my favour all the chances of good air, of the sun, and

abundance of moisture.”

“All true, all true,” exclaimed Cornelius, clapping his

hands with joy, “you are a good pupil, Rosa, and you are

sure to gain your hundred thousand guilders.”

“Don’t forget,” said Rosa, smiling, “that your pupil, as you

call me, has still other things to learn besides the

cultivation of tulips.”

“Yes, yes, and I am as anxious as you are, Rosa, that you

should learn to read.”

“When shall we begin?”

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“At once.”

“No, to-morrow.”

“Why to-morrow?”

“Because to-day our hour is expired, and I must leave you.”

“Already? But what shall we read?”

“Oh,” said Rosa, “I have a book, — a book which I hope will

bring us luck.”

“To-morrow, then.”

“Yes, to-morrow.”

On the following evening Rosa returned with the Bible of

Cornelius de Witt.

Chapter 17

The First Bulb

On the following evening, as we have said, Rosa returned

with the Bible of Cornelius de Witt.

Then began between the master and the pupil one of those

charming scenes which are the delight of the novelist who

has to describe them.

The grated window, the only opening through which the two

lovers were able to communicate, was too high for

conveniently reading a book, although it had been quite

convenient for them to read each other’s faces.

Rosa therefore had to press the open book against the

grating edgewise, holding above it in her right hand the

lamp, but Cornelius hit upon the lucky idea of fixing it to

the bars, so as to afford her a little rest. Rosa was then

enabled to follow with her finger the letters and syllables,

which she was to spell for Cornelius, who with a straw

pointed out the letters to his attentive pupil through the

holes of the grating.

The light of the lamp illuminated the rich complexion of

Rosa, her blue liquid eyes, and her golden hair under her

head-dress of gold brocade, with her fingers held up, and

showing in the blood, as it flowed downwards in the veins

that pale pink hue which shines before the light owing to

the living transparency of the flesh tint.

Rosa’s intellect rapidly developed itself under the

animating influence of Cornelius, and when the difficulties

seemed too arduous, the sympathy of two loving hearts seemed

to smooth them away.

And Rosa, after having returned to her room, repeated in her

solitude the reading lessons, and at the same time recalled

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all the delight which she had felt whilst receiving them.

One evening she came half an hour later than usual. This was

too extraordinary an instance not to call forth at once

Cornelius’s inquiries after its cause.

“Oh! do not be angry with me,” she said, “it is not my

fault. My father has renewed an acquaintance with an old

crony who used to visit him at the Hague, and to ask him to

let him see the prison. He is a good sort of fellow, fond of

his bottle, tells funny stories, and moreover is very free

with his money, so as always to be ready to stand a treat.”

“You don’t know anything further of him?” asked Cornelius,

surprised.

“No,” she answered; “it’s only for about a fortnight that my

father has taken such a fancy to this friend who is so

assiduous in visiting him.”

“Ah, so,” said Cornelius, shaking his head uneasily as every

new incident seemed to him to forebode some catastrophe;

“very likely some spy, one of those who are sent into jails

to watch both prisoners and their keepers.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Rosa, smiling; “if that worthy

person is spying after any one, it is certainly not after my

father.”

“After whom, then?”

“Me, for instance.”

“You?”

“Why not?” said Rosa, smiling.

“Ah, that’s true,” Cornelius observed, with a sigh. “You