Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip

Cornelius darted with one spring from the window to the

door, his lips met those of Rosa, who told him, with a kiss,

—

“It is open, it is black, here it is.”

“How! here it is?” exclaimed Cornelius.

“Yes, yes, we ought indeed to run some little risk to give a

great joy; here it is, take it.”

And with one hand she raised to the level of the grating a

dark lantern, which she had lit in the meanwhile, whilst

with the other she held to the same height the miraculous

tulip.

Cornelius uttered a cry, and was nearly fainting.

“Oh!” muttered he, “my God, my God, Thou dost reward me for

my innocence and my captivity, as Thou hast allowed two such

flowers to grow at the grated window of my prison!”

The tulip was beautiful, splendid, magnificent; its stem was

more than eighteen inches high; it rose from out of four

green leaves, which were as smooth and straight as iron

lance-heads; the whole of the flower was as black and

shining as jet.

“Rosa,” said Cornelius, almost gasping, “Rosa, there is not

one moment to lose in writing the letter.”

“It is written, my dearest Cornelius,” said Rosa.

“Is it, indeed?”

“Whilst the tulip opened I wrote it myself, for I did not

wish to lose a moment. Here is the letter, and tell me

whether you approve of it.”

Cornelius took the letter, and read, in a handwriting which

was much improved even since the last little note he had

received from Rosa, as follows: —

“Mynheer President, — The black tulip is about to open,

perhaps in ten minutes. As soon as it is open, I shall send

a messenger to you, with the request that you will come and

fetch it in person from the fortress at Loewestein. I am the

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daughter of the jailer, Gryphus, almost as much of a captive

as the prisoners of my father. I cannot, therefore, bring to

you this wonderful flower. This is the reason why I beg you

to come and fetch it yourself.

“It is my wish that it should be called Rosa Barlaensis.

“It has opened; it is perfectly black; come, Mynheer

President, come.

“I have the honour to be your humble servant,

“Rosa Gryphus.

“That’s it, dear Rosa, that’s it. Your letter is admirable!

I could not have written it with such beautiful simplicity.

You will give to the committee all the information that will

be required of you. They will then know how the tulip has

been grown, how much care and anxiety, and how many

sleepless nights, it has cost. But for the present not a

minute must be lost. The messenger! the messenger!”

“What’s the name of the President?”

“Give me the letter, I will direct it. Oh, he is very well

known: it is Mynheer van Systens, the burgomaster of

Haarlem; give it to me, Rosa, give it to me.”

And with a trembling hand Cornelius wrote the address, —

“To Mynheer Peter van Systens, Burgomaster, and President of

the Horticultural Society of Haarlem.”

“And now, Rosa, go, go,” said Cornelius, “and let us implore

the protection of God, who has so kindly watched over us

until now.”

Chapter 23

The Rival

And in fact the poor young people were in great need of protection.

They had never been so near the destruction of their hopes

as at this moment, when they thought themselves certain of

their fulfilment.

The reader cannot but have recognized in Jacob our old

friend, or rather enemy, Isaac Boxtel, and has guessed, no

doubt, that this worthy had followed from the Buytenhof to

Loewestein the object of his love and the object of his

hatred, — the black tulip and Cornelius van Baerle.

What no one but a tulip-fancier, and an envious

tulip-fancier, could have discovered, — the existence of

the bulbs and the endeavours of the prisoner, — jealousy

had enabled Boxtel, if not to discover, at least to guess.

We have seen him, more successful under the name of Jacob

than under that of Isaac, gain the friendship of Gryphus,

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