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 deprived me of my liberty?
You are right, Rosa, I cannot live without you. Well, you will send some
one to Haarlem,--that's settled; really, the matter is wonderful enough
for the President to put himself to some trouble. He will come himself
to Loewestein