themselves against me, and then I shall be lost. If I am
lost that matters nothing, — but Cornelius and the tulip!”
She reflected for a moment.
“If I go to that Boxtel, and do not know him; if that Boxtel
is not my Jacob, but another fancier, who has also
discovered the black tulip; or if my tulip has been stolen
by some one else, or has already passed into the hands of a
third person; — if I do not recognize the man, only the
tulip, how shall I prove that it belongs to me? On the other
hand, if I recognise this Boxtel as Jacob, who knows what
will come out of it? whilst we are contesting with each
other, the tulip will die.”
In the meanwhile, a great noise was heard, like the distant
roar of the sea, at the other extremity of the market-place.
People were running about, doors opening and shutting, Rosa
alone was unconscious of all this hubbub among the
multitude.
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“We must return to the President,” she muttered.
“Well, then, let us return,” said the boatman.
They took a small street, which led them straight to the
mansion of Mynheer van Systens, who with his best pen in his
finest hand continued to draw up his report.
Everywhere on her way Rosa heard people speaking only of the
black tulip, and the prize of a hundred thousand guilders.
The news had spread like wildfire through the town.
Rosa had not a little difficulty is penetrating a second
time into the office of Mynheer van Systens, who, however,
was again moved by the magic name of the black tulip.
But when he recognised Rosa, whom in his own mind he had set
down as mad, or even worse, he grew angry, and wanted to
send her away.
Rosa, however, clasped her hands, and said with that tone of
honest truth which generally finds its way to the hearts of
men, —
“For Heaven’s sake, sir, do not turn me away; listen to what
I have to tell you, and if it be not possible for you to do
me justice, at least you will not one day have to reproach
yourself before God for having made yourself the accomplice
of a bad action.”
Van Systens stamped his foot with impatience; it was the
second time that Rosa interrupted him in the midst of a
composition which stimulated his vanity, both as a
burgomaster and as President of the Horticultural Society.
“But my report!” he cried, — “my report on the black
tulip!”
“Mynheer van Systens,” Rosa continued, with the firmness of
innocence and truth, “your report on the black tulip will,
if you don’t hear me, be based on crime or on falsehood. I
implore you, sir, let this Master Boxtel, whom I assert to
be Master Jacob, be brought here before you and me, and I
swear that I will leave him in undisturbed possession of the
tulip if I do not recognise the flower and its holder.”
“Well, I declare, here is a proposal,” said Van Systens.
“What do you mean?”
“I ask you what can be proved by your recognising them?”
“After all,” said Rosa, in her despair, “you are an honest
man, sir; how would you feel if one day you found out that
you had given the prize to a man for something which he not
only had not produced, but which he had even stolen?”
Rosa’s speech seemed to have brought a certain conviction
into the heart of Van Systens, and he was going to answer
her in a gentler tone, when at once a great noise was heard
in the street, and loud cheers shook the house.
“What is this?” cried the burgomaster; “what is this? Is it
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Dumas, Alexandre – The Black Tulip
possible? have I heard aright?”
And he rushed towards his anteroom, without any longer
heeding Rosa, whom he left in his cabinet.
Scarcely had he reached his anteroom when he cried out aloud
on seeing his staircase invaded, up to the very
landing-place, by the multitude, which was accompanying, or
rather following, a young man, simply clad in a