On the following evening, at the usual hour, Van Baerleheard some one scratch at the grated little window, just asRosa had been in the habit of doing in the heyday of theirfriendship.
Cornelius being, as may easily be imagined, not far off fromthe door, perceived Rosa, who at last was waiting again forhim with her lamp in her hand.
Seeing him so sad and pale, she was startled, and said, --"You are ill, Mynheer Cornelius?""Yes, I am," he answered, as indeed he was suffering in mindand in body.
I saw that you did not eat," said Rosa; "my father told methat you remained in bed all day. I then wrote to calm youruneasiness concerning the fate of the most precious objectof your anxiety.""And I," said Cornelius, "I have answered. Seeing yourreturn, my dear Rosa, I thought you had received my letter.""It is true; I have received it.""You cannot this time excuse yourself with not being able toread. Not only do you read very fluently, but also you havemade marvellous progress in writing.""Indeed, I have not only received, but also read your note.
Accordingly I am come to see whether there might not be someremedy to restore you to health.""Restore me to health?" cried Cornelius; "but have you anygood news to communicate to me?"Saying this, the poor prisoner looked at Rosa, his eyessparkling with hope.
Whether she did not, or would not, understand this look,Rosa answered gravely, --"I have only to speak to you about your tulip, which, as Iwell know, is the object uppermost in your mind."Rosa pronounced those few words in a freezing tone, whichcut deeply into the heart of Cornelius. He did not suspectwhat lay hidden under this appearance of indifference withwhich the poor girl affected to speak of her rival, theblack tulip.
Oh!" muttered Cornelius, "again! again! Have I not toldyou, Rosa, that I thought but of you? that it was you alonewhom I regretted, you whom I missed, you whose absence Ifelt more than the loss of liberty and of life itself?"Rosa smiled with a melancholy air.
Ah!" she said, "your tulip has been in such danger."Cornelius trembled involuntarily, and showed himself clearlyto be caught in the trap, if ever the remark was meant assuch.
Danger!" he cried, quite alarmed; "what danger?"Rosa looked at him with gentle compassion; she felt thatwhat she wished was beyond the power of this man, and thathe must be taken as he was, with his little foible.
Yes," she said, "you have guessed the truth; that suitorand amorous swain, Jacob, did not come on my account.""And what did he come for?" Cornelius anxiously asked.
He came for the sake of the tulip.""Alas!" said Cornelius, growing even paler at this piece ofinformation than he had been when Rosa, a fortnight before,had told him that Jacob was coming for her sake.
Rosa saw this alarm, and Cornelius guessed, from theexpression of her face, in what direction her thoughts wererunning.
Oh, pardon me, Rosa!" he said, "I know you, and I am wellaware of the kindness and sincerity of your heart. To youGod has given the thought and strength for defendingyourself; but to my poor tulip, when it is in danger, Godhas given nothing of the sort."Rosa, without replying to this excuse of the prisoner,continued, --"From the moment when I first knew that you were uneasy onaccount of the man who followed me, and in whom I hadrecognized Jacob, I was even more uneasy myself. On the day,therefore, after that on which I saw you last, and on whichyou said -- "Cornelius interrupted her.
Once more, pardon me, Rosa!" he cried. "I was wrong insaying to you what I said. I have asked your pardon for thatunfortunate speech before. I ask it again: shall I alwaysask it in vain?""On the following day," Rosa continued, "remembering whatyou had told me about the stratagem which I was to employ toascertain whether that odious man was after the tulip, orafter me ---- ""Yes, yes, odious. Tell me," he said, "do you hate thatman?""I do hate him," said Rosa, "as he is the cause of all theunhappiness I have suffered these eight days.""You, too, have been unhappy, Rosa? I thank you a thousandtimes for this kind confession.""Well, on the day after that unfortunate one, I went downinto the garden and proceeded towards the border where I wasto plant your tulip, looking round all the while to seewhether I was again followed as I was last time.""And then?" Cornelius asked.
And then the same shadow glided between the gate and thewall, and once more disappeared behind the elder-trees.""You feigned not to see him, didn't you?" Cornelius asked,remembering all the details of the advice which he had givento Rosa.
Yes, and I stooped over the border, in which I dug with aspade, as if I was going to put the bulb in.""And he, -- what did he do during all this time?""I saw his eyes glisten through the branches of the treelike those of a tiger.""There you see, there you see!" cried Cornelius.
Then, after having finished my make-believe work, Iretired.""But only behind the garden door, I dare say, so that youmight see through the keyhole what he was going to do whenyou had left?""He waited for a moment, very likely to make sure of my notcoming back, after which he sneaked forth from hishiding-place, and approached the border by a longround-about; at last, having reached his goal, that is tosay, the spot where the ground was newly turned, he stoppedwith a careless air, looking about in all directions, andscanning every corner of the garden, every window of theneighbouring houses, and even the sky; after which, thinkinghimself quite alone, quite isolated, and out of everybody'ssight, he pounced upon the border, plunged both his handsinto the soft soil, took a handful of the mould, which hegently frittered between his fingers to see whether the bulbwas in it, and repeated the same thing twice or three times,until at last he perceived that he was outwitted. Then,keeping down the agitation which was raging in his breast,he took up the rake, smoothed the ground, so as to leave iton his retiring in the same state as he had found it, and,quite abashed and rueful, walked back to the door, affectingthe unconcerned air of an ordinary visitor of the garden.""Oh, the wretch!" muttered Cornelius, wiping the cold sweatfrom his brow. "Oh, the wretch! I guessed his intentions.
But the bulb, Rosa; what have you done with it? It isalready rather late to plant it.""The bulb? It has been in the ground for these six days.""Where? and how?" cried Cornelius. "Good Heaven, whatimprudence! What is it? In what sort of soil is it? It whataspect? Good or bad? Is there no risk of having it filchedby that detestable Jacob?""There is no danger of its being stolen," said Rosa, "unlessJacob will force the door of my chamber.""Oh! then it is with you in your bedroom?" said Cornelius,somewhat relieved. "But in what soil? in what vessel? Youdon't let it grow, I hope, in water like those good ladiesof Haarlem and Dort, who imagine that water could replacethe earth?""You may make yourself comfortable on that score," saidRosa, smiling; "your bulb is not growing in water.""I breathe again.""It is in a good, sound stone pot, just about the size ofthe jug in which you had planted yours. The soil is composedof three parts of common mould, taken from the best spot ofthe garden, and one of the sweepings of the road. I haveheard you and that detestable Jacob, as you call him, sooften talk about what is the soil best fitted for growingtulips, that I know it as well as the first gardener ofHaarlem.""And now what is the aspect, Rosa?""At present it has the sun all day long, -- that is to saywhen the sun shines. But when it once peeps out of theground, I shall do as you have done here, dear MynheerCornelius: I shall put it out of my window on the easternside from eight in the morning until eleven and in my windowtowards the west from three to five in the afternoon.""That's it! that's it!" cried Cornelius; "and you are aperfect gardener, my pretty Rosa. But I am afraid thenursing of my tulip will take up all your time.""Yes, it will," said Rosa; "but never mind. Your tulip is mydaughter. I shall devote to it the same time as I should toa child of mine, if I were a mother. Only by becoming itsmother," Rosa added, smilingly, "can I cease to be itsrival.""My kind and pretty Rosa!" muttered Cornelius casting on hera glance in which there was much more of the lover than ofthe gardener, and which afforded Rosa some consolation.
Then, after a silence of some moments, during whichCornelius had grasped through the openings of the gratingfor the receding hand of Rosa, he said, --"Do you mean to say that the bulb has now been in the groundfor six days?""Yes, six days, Mynheer Cornelius," she answered.
And it does not yet show leaf""No, but I think it will to-morrow.""Well, then, to-morrow you will bring me news about it, andabout yourself, won't you, Rosa? I care very much for thedaughter, as you called it just now, but I care even muchmore for the mother.""To-morrow?" said Rosa, looking at Cornelius askance. "Idon't know whether I shall be able to come to-morrow.""Good heavens!" said Cornelius, "why can't you cometo-morrow?""Mynheer Cornelius, I have lots of things to do.""And I have only one," muttered Cornelius.
Yes," said Rosa, "to love your tulip.""To love you, Rosa."Rosa shook her head, after which followed a pause.
Well," -- Cornelius at last broke the silence, -- "well,Rosa, everything changes in the realm of nature; the flowersof spring are succeeded by other flowers; and the bees,which so tenderly caressed the violets and the wall-flowers,will flutter with just as much love about the honey-suckles,the rose, the jessamine, and the carnation.""What does all this mean?" asked Rosa.
You have abandoned me, Miss Rosa, to seek your pleasureelsewhere. You have done well, and I will not complain. Whatclaim have I to your fidelity?""My fidelity!" Rosa exclaimed, with her eyes full of tears,and without caring any longer to hide from Cornelius thisdew of pearls dropping on her cheeks, "my fidelity! have Inot been faithful to you?""Do you call it faithful to desert me, and to leave me hereto die?""But, Mynheer Cornelius," said Rosa, "am I not doingeverything for you that could give you pleasure? have I notdevoted myself to your tulip?""You are bitter, Rosa, you reproach me with the onlyunalloyed pleasure which I have had in this world.""I reproach you with nothing, Mynheer Cornelius, except,perhaps, with the intense grief which I felt when peoplecame to tell me at the Buytenhof that you were about to beput to death.""You are displeased, Rosa, my sweet girl, with my lovingflowers.""I am not displeased with your loving them, MynheerCornelius, only it makes me sad to think that you love thembetter than you do me.""Oh, my dear, dear Rosa! look how my hands tremble; look atmy pale cheek, hear how my heart beats. It is for you, mylove, not for the black tulip. Destroy the bulb, destroy thegerm of that flower, extinguish the gentle light of thatinnocent and delightful dream, to which I have accustomedmyself; but love me, Rosa, love me; for I feel deeply that Ilove but you.""Yes, after the black tulip," sighed Rosa, who at last nolonger coyly withdrew her warm hands from the grating, asCornelius most affectionately kissed them.
Above and before everything in this world, Rosa.""May I believe you?""As you believe in your own existence.""Well, then, be it so; but loving me does not bind you toomuch.""Unfortunately, it does not bind me more than I am bound;but it binds you, Rosa, you.""To what?""First of all, not to marry."She smiled.
That's your way," she said; "you are tyrants all of you.
You worship a certain beauty, you think of nothing but her.
Then you are condemned to death, and whilst walking to thescaffold, you devote to her your last sigh; and now youexpect poor me to sacrifice to you all my dreams and myhappiness.""But who is the beauty you are talking of, Rosa?" saidCornelius, trying in vain to remember a woman to whom Rosamight possibly be alluding.
The dark beauty with a slender waist, small feet, and anoble head; in short, I am speaking of your flower."Cornelius smiled.
That is an imaginary lady love, at all events; whereas,without counting that amorous Jacob, you by your own accountare surrounded with all sorts of swains eager to make loveto you. Do you remember Rosa, what you told me of thestudents, officers, and clerks of the Hague? Are there noclerks, officers, or students at Loewestein?""Indeed there are, and lots of them.""Who write letters?""They do write.""And now, as you know how to read ---- "Here Cornelius heaved a sigh at the thought, that, poorcaptive as he was, to him alone Rosa owed the faculty ofreading the love-letters which she received.
As to that," said Rosa, "I think that in reading the notesaddressed to me, and passing the different swains in reviewwho send them to me, I am only following your instructions.""How so? My instructions?""Indeed, your instructions, sir," said Rosa, sighing in herturn; "have you forgotten the will written by your hand onthe Bible of Cornelius de Witt? I have not forgotten it; fornow, as I know how to read, I read it every day over andover again. In that will you bid me to love and marry ahandsome young man of twenty-six or eight years. I am on thelook-out for that young man, and as the whole of my day istaken up with your tulip, you must needs leave me theevenings to find him.""But, Rosa, the will was made in the expectation of death,and, thanks to Heaven, I am still alive.""Well, then, I shall not be after the handsome young man,and I shall come to see you.""That's it, Rosa, come! come!""Under one condition.""Granted beforehand!""That the black tulip shall not be mentioned for the nextthree days.""It shall never be mentioned any more, if you wish it,Rosa.""No, no," the damsel said, laughing, "I will not ask forimpossibilities."And, saying this, she brought her fresh cheek, as ifunconsciously, so near the iron grating, that Cornelius wasable to touch it with his lips.
Rosa uttered a little scream, which, however, was full oflove, and disappeared.