just in time; I am very hungry.”
“Oh! you are hungry, are you?” said Gryphus.
“And why not?” asked Van Baerle.
“The conspiracy seems to thrive,” remarked Gryphus.
“What conspiracy?”
“Very well, I know what I know, Master Scholar; just be
quiet, we shall be on our guard.”
“Be on your guard, friend Gryphus; be on your guard as long
as you please; my conspiracy, as well as my person, is
entirely at your service.”
“We’ll see that at noon.”
Saying this, Gryphus went out.
“At noon?” repeated Cornelius; “what does that mean? Well,
let us wait until the clock strikes twelve, and we shall
see.”
It was very easy for Cornelius to wait for twelve at midday,
as he was already waiting for nine at night.
It struck twelve, and there were heard on the staircase not
only the steps of Gryphus, but also those of three or four
soldiers, who were coming up with him.
The door opened. Gryphus entered, led his men in, and shut
the door after them.
“There, now search!”
They searched not only the pockets of Cornelius, but even
his person; yet they found nothing.
They then searched the sheets, the mattress, and the straw
mattress of his bed; and again they found nothing.
Now, Cornelius rejoiced that he had not taken the third
sucker under his own care. Gryphus would have been sure to
ferret it out in the search, and would then have treated it
as he did the first.
And certainly never did prisoner look with greater
complacency at a search made in his cell than Cornelius.
Gryphus retired with the pencil and the two or three leaves
of white paper which Rosa had given to Van Baerle, this was
the only trophy brought back from the expedition.
At six Gryphus came back again, but alone; Cornelius tried
to propitiate him, but Gryphus growled, showed a large tooth
like a tusk, which he had in the corner of his mouth, and
went out backwards, like a man who is afraid of being
attacked from behind.
Cornelius burst out laughing, to which Gryphus answered
through the grating, —
Page 118
Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip
“Let him laugh that wins.”
The winner that day was Cornelius; Rosa came at nine.
She was without a lantern. She needed no longer a light, as
she could now read. Moreover, the light might betray her, as
Jacob was dogging her steps more than ever. And lastly, the
light would have shown her blushes.
Of what did the young people speak that evening? Of those
matters of which lovers speak at the house doors in France,
or from a balcony into the street in Spain, or down from a
terrace into a garden in the East.
They spoke of those things which give wings to the hours;
they spoke of everything except the black tulip.
At last, when the clock struck ten, they parted as usual.
Cornelius was happy, as thoroughly happy as a tulip-fancier
would be to whom one has not spoken of his tulip.
He found Rosa pretty, good, graceful, and charming.
But why did Rosa object to the tulip being spoken of?
This was indeed a great defect in Rosa.
Cornelius confessed to himself, sighing, that woman was not
perfect.
Part of the night he thought of this imperfection; that is
to say, so long as he was awake he thought of Rosa.
After having fallen asleep, he dreamed of her.
But the Rosa of his dreams was by far more perfect than the
Rosa of real life. Not only did the Rosa of his dreams speak
of the tulip, but also brought to him a black one in a china
vase.
Cornelius then awoke, trembling with joy, and muttering, —
“Rosa, Rosa, I love you.”
And as it was already day, he thought it right not to fall
asleep again, and he continued following up the line of
thought in which his mind was engaged when he awoke.
Ah! if Rosa had only conversed about the tulip, Cornelius
would have preferred her to Queen Semiramis, to Queen
Cleopatra, to Queen Elizabeth, to Queen Anne of Austria;
that is to say, to the greatest or most beautiful queens