which for several months he cultivated by means of the best
Genievre ever distilled from the Texel to Antwerp, and he
lulled the suspicion of the jealous turnkey by holding out
to him the flattering prospect of his designing to marry
Rosa.
Besides thus offering a bait to the ambition of the father,
he managed, at the same time, to interest his zeal as a
jailer, picturing to him in the blackest colours the learned
prisoner whom Gryphus had in his keeping, and who, as the
sham Jacob had it, was in league with Satan, to the
detriment of his Highness the Prince of Orange.
At first he had also made some way with Rosa; not, indeed,
in her affections, but inasmuch as, by talking to her of
marriage and of love, he had evaded all the suspicions which
he might otherwise have excited.
We have seen how his imprudence in following Rosa into the
garden had unmasked him in the eyes of the young damsel, and
how the instinctive fears of Cornelius had put the two
lovers on their guard against him.
The reader will remember that the first cause of uneasiness
was given to the prisoner by the rage of Jacob when Gryphus
crushed the first bulb. In that moment Boxtel’s exasperation
was the more fierce, as, though suspecting that Cornelius
possessed a second bulb, he by no means felt sure of it.
From that moment he began to dodge the steps of Rosa, not
only following her to the garden, but also to the lobbies.
Only as this time he followed her in the night, and
bare-footed, he was neither seen nor heard except once, when
Rosa thought she saw something like a shadow on the
staircase.
Her discovery, however, was made too late, as Boxtel had
heard from the mouth of the prisoner himself that a second
bulb existed.
Taken in by the stratagem of Rosa, who had feigned to put it
in the ground, and entertaining no doubt that this little
farce had been played in order to force him to betray
himself, he redoubled his precaution, and employed every
means suggested by his crafty nature to watch the others
without being watched himself.
He saw Rosa conveying a large flower-pot of white
earthenware from her father’s kitchen to her bedroom. He saw
Rosa washing in pails of water her pretty little hands,
begrimed as they were with the mould which she had handled,
to give her tulip the best soil possible.
And at last he hired, just opposite Rosa’s window, a little
attic, distant enough not to allow him to be recognized with
the naked eye, but sufficiently near to enable him, with the
help of his telescope, to watch everything that was going on
at the Loewestein in Rosa’s room, just as at Dort he had
watched the dry-room of Cornelius.
He had not been installed more than three days in his attic
before all his doubts were removed.
Page 129
Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip
From morning to sunset the flower-pot was in the window,
and, like those charming female figures of Mieris and
Metzys, Rosa appeared at that window as in a frame, formed
by the first budding sprays of the wild vine and the
honeysuckle encircling her window.
Rosa watched the flower-pot with an interest which betrayed
to Boxtel the real value of the object enclosed in it.
This object could not be anything else but the second bulb,
that is to say, the quintessence of all the hopes of the
prisoner.
When the nights threatened to be too cold, Rosa took in the
flower-pot.
Well, it was then quite evident she was following the
instructions of Cornelius, who was afraid of the bulb being
killed by frost.
When the sun became too hot, Rosa likewise took in the pot
from eleven in the morning until two in the afternoon.
Another proof: Cornelius was afraid lest the soil should
become too dry.
But when the first leaves peeped out of the earth Boxtel was
fully convinced; and his telescope left him no longer in any
uncertainty before they had grown one inch in height.
Cornelius possessed two bulbs, and the second was intrusted