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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, --
"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
whom the world has seen.

But Rosa had forbidden it under pain of not returning; Rosa
had forbidden the least mention of the tulip for three days.

That meant seventy-two hours given to the lover to be sure;
but it was seventy-two hours stolen from the horticulturist.

There was one consolation: of the seventy-two hours during
which Rosa would not allow the tulip to be mentioned,

thirty-six had passed already; and the remaining thirty-six
would pass quickly enough: eighteen with waiting for the

evening's interview, and eighteen with rejoicing in its
remembrance.

Rosa came at the same hour, and Cornelius submitted most
heroically to the pangs which the compulsory silence

concerning the tulip gave him.
His fair visitor, however, was well aware that, to command

on the one point, people must yield on another; she
therefore no longer drew back her hands from the grating,

and even allowed Cornelius tenderly to kiss her beautiful
golden tresses.

Poor girl! she had no idea that these playful little lovers'
tricks were much more dangerous than speaking of the tulip

was; but she became aware of the fact as she returned with a
beating heart, with glowing cheeks, dry lips, and moist

eyes.
And on the following evening, after the first exchange of

salutations, she retired a step, looking at him with a
glance, the expression of which would have rejoiced his

heart could he but have seen it.
"Well," she said, "she is up."

"She is up! Who? What?" asked Cornelius, who did not venture
on a belief that Rosa would, of her own accord, have

abridged the term of his probation.
"She? Well, my daughter, the tulip," said Rosa.

"What!" cried Cornelius, "you give me permission, then?"
"I do," said Rosa, with the tone of an affectionate" target="_blank" title="a.亲爱的">affectionate mother

who grants a pleasure to her child.
"Ah, Rosa!" said Cornelius, putting his lips to the grating

with the hope of touching a cheek, a hand, a forehead, --
anything, in short.

He touched something much better, -- two warm and half open
lips.

Rosa uttered a slight scream.
Cornelius understood that he must make haste to continue the

conversation. He guessed that this unexpected kiss had
frightened Rosa.

"Is it growing up straight?"
"Straight as a rocket," said Rosa.

"How high?"
"At least two inches."

"Oh, Rosa, take good care of it, and we shall soon see it
grow quickly."

"Can I take more care of it?" said she. "Indeed, I think of
nothing else but the tulip."

"Of nothing else, Rosa? Why, now I shall grow jealous in my
turn."

"Oh, you know that to think of the tulip is to think of you;
I never lose sight of it. I see it from my bed, on awaking

it is the first object that meets my eyes, and on falling
asleep the last on which they rest. During the day I sit and

work by its side, for I have never left my chamber since I
put it there."

"You are right Rosa, it is your dowry, you know."
"Yes, and with it I may marry a young man of twenty-six or

twenty-eight years, whom I shall be in love with."
"Don't talk in that way, you naughty girl."

That evening Cornelius was one of the happiest of men. Rosa
allowed him to press her hand in his, and to keep it as long

as he would, besides which he might talk of his tulip as
much as he liked.

From that hour every day marked some progress in the growth
of the tulip and in the affection of the two young people.

At one time it was that the leaves had expanded, and at
another that the flower itself had formed.

Great was the joy of Cornelius at this news, and his
questions succeeded one another with a rapidity which gave

proof of their importance.
"Formed!" exclaimed Cornelius, "is it really formed?"

"It is," repeated Rosa.
Cornelius trembled with joy, so much so that he was obliged

to hold by the grating.
"Good heavens!" he exclaimed.

Then, turning again to Rosa, he continued his questions.
"Is the oval regular? the cylinder full? and are the points

very green?"
"The oval is almost one inch long, and tapers like a needle,

the cylinder swells at the sides, and the points are ready
to open."

Two days after Rosa announced that they were open.
"Open, Rosa!" cried Cornelius. "Is the involucrum open? but

then one may see and already distinguish ---- "
Here the prisoner paused, anxiouslytaking breath.

"Yes," answered Rosa, "one may already distinguish a thread
of different colour, as thin as a hair."

"And its colour?" asked Cornelius, trembling.
"Oh," answered Rosa, "it is very dark!"

"Brown?"
"Darker than that."

"Darker, my good Rosa, darker? Thank you. Dark as ---- "
"Dark as the ink with which I wrote to you."

Cornelius uttered a cry of mad joy.
Then, suddenly stopping and clasping his hands, he said, --

"Oh, there is not an angel in heaven that may be compared to
you, Rosa!"

"Indeed!" said Rosa, smiling at his enthusiasm.
"Rosa, you have worked with such ardour, -- you have done so

much for me! Rosa, my tulip is about to flower, and it will
flower black! Rosa, Rosa, you are the most perfect being on

earth!"
"After the tulip, though."

"Ah! be quiet, you malicious little creature, be quiet! For
shame! Do not spoil my pleasure. But tell me, Rosa, -- as

the tulip is so far advanced, it will flower in two or three
days, at the latest?"

"To-morrow, or the day after."
"Ah! and I shall not see it," cried Cornelius, starting

back, "I shall not kiss it, as a wonderful work of the
Almighty, as I kiss your hand and your cheek, Rosa, when by

chance they are near the grating."
Rosa drew near, not by accident, but intentionally, and

Cornelius kissed her tenderly.
"Faith, I shall cull it, if you wish it."

"Oh, no, no, Rosa! when it is open, place it carefully in
the shade, and immediately send a message to Haarlem, to the

President of the Horticultural Society, that the grand black
tulip is in flower. I know well it is far to Haarlem, but

with money you will find a messenger. Have you any money,
Rosa?"

Rosa smiled.
"Oh, yes!" she said.

"Enough?" said Cornelius.
"I have three hundred guilders."

"Oh, if you have three hundred guilders, you must not send a
messenger, Rosa, but you must go to Haarlem yourself."

"But what in the meantime is to become of the flower?"
"Oh, the flower! you must take it with you. You understand

that you must not separate from it for an instant."
"But whilst I am not separating from it, I am separating

from you, Mynheer Cornelius."
"Ah! that's true, my sweet Rosa. Oh, my God! how wicked men

are! What have I done to offend them, and why have they


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