Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

will not always have suitors in vain; this man may become

your husband.”

“I don’t say anything to the contrary.”

“What cause have you to entertain such a happy prospect?”

“Rather say, this fear, Mynheer Cornelius.”

“Thank you, Rosa, you are right; well, I will say then, this

fear?”

“I have only this reason —- ”

“Tell me, I am anxious to hear.”

“This man came several times before to the Buytenhof, at the

Hague. I remember now, it was just about the time when you

were confined there. When I left, he left too; when I came

here, he came after me. At the Hague his pretext was that he

wanted to see you.”

“See me?”

“Yes, it must have undoubtedly been only a pretext for now,

when he could plead the same reason, as you are my father’s

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prisoner again, he does not care any longer for you; quite

the contrary, — I heard him say to my father only yesterday

that he did not know you.”

“Go on, Rosa, pray do, that I may guess who that man is, and

what he wants.”

“Are you quite sure, Mynheer Cornelius, that none of your

friends can interest himself for you?”

“I have no friends, Rosa; I have only my old nurse, whom you

know, and who knows you. Alas, poor Sue! she would come

herself, and use no roundabout ways. She would at once say

to your father, or to you, ‘My good sir, or my good miss, my

child is here; see how grieved I am; let me see him only for

one hour, and I’ll pray for you as long as I live.’ No, no,”

continued Cornelius; “with the exception of my poor old Sue,

I have no friends in this world.”

“Then I come back to what I thought before; and the more so

as last evening at sunset, whilst I was arranging the border

where I am to plant your bulb, I saw a shadow gliding

between the alder trees and the aspens. I did not appear to

see him, but it was this man. He concealed himself and saw

me digging the ground, and certainly it was me whom he

followed, and me whom he was spying after. I could not move

my rake, or touch one atom of soil, without his noticing

it.”

“Oh, yes, yes, he is in love with you,” said Cornelius. “Is

he young? Is he handsome?”

Saying this he looked anxiously at Rosa, eagerly waiting for

her answer.

“Young? handsome?” cried Rosa, bursting into a laugh. “He is

hideous to look at; crooked, nearly fifty years of age, and

never dares to look me in the face, or to speak, except in

an undertone.”

“And his name?”

“Jacob Gisels.”

“I don’t know him.”

“Then you see that, at all events, he does not come after

you.”

“At any rate, if he loves you, Rosa, which is very likely,

as to see you is to love you, at least you don’t love him.”

“To be sure I don’t.”

“Then you wish me to keep my mind easy?”

“I should certainly ask you to do so.”

“Well, then, now as you begin to know how to read you will

read all that I write to you of the pangs of jealousy and of

absence, won’t you, Rosa?”

“I shall read it, if you write with good big letters.”

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Then, as the turn which the conversation took began to make

Rosa uneasy, she asked, —

“By the bye, how is your tulip going on?”

“Oh, Rosa, only imagine my joy, this morning I looked at it

in the sun, and after having moved the soil aside which

covers the bulb, I saw the first sprouting of the leaves.

This small germ has caused me a much greater emotion than

the order of his Highness which turned aside the sword

already raised at the Buytenhof.”

“You hope, then?” said Rosa, smiling.

“Yes, yes, I hope.”

“And I, in my turn, when shall I plant my bulb?”

“Oh, the first favourable day I will tell you; but, whatever