Черный тюльпан

Cornelius van Baerle’s Will

           Don’tblush,Rosa,norturnaway;andevenifIweremakingyouadeclarationoflove,alas!poordear,itwouldbeofnomoreconsequence.Downthereintheyard,thereisaninstrumentofsteel,whichinsixtyminuteswillputanendtomyboldness.Well,Rosa,Ilovedflowersdearly,andIhavefound,oratleastIbelieveso,thesecretofthegreatblacktulip,whichithasbeenconsideredimpossibletogrow,andforwhich,asyouknow,ormaynotknow,aprizeofahundredthousandguildershasbeenofferedbytheHorticulturalSocietyofHaarlem.ThesehundredthousandguildersandHeavenknowsIdonotregretthemthesehundredthousandguildersIhavehereinthispaper,fortheyarewonbythethreebulbswrappedupinit,whichyoumaytake,Rosa,asImakeyouapresentofthem.”

           “MynheerCornelius!”

           “Yes,yes,Rosa,youmaytakethem;youarenotwronginganyone,mychild.Iamaloneinthisworld;myparentsaredead;Ineverhadasisterorabrother.Ihaveneverhadathoughtoflovinganyonewithwhatiscalledlove,andifanyonehaslovedme,Ihavenotknownit.However,youseewell,Rosa,thatIamabandonedbyeverybody,asinthissadhouryoualonearewithmeinmyprison,consolingandassistingme.”

           “But,sir,ahundredthousandguilders!”

           “Well,letustalkseriously,mydearchild:thosehundredthousandguilderswillbeanicemarriageportion,withyourprettyface;youshallhavethem,Rosa,dearRosa,andIasknothinginreturnbutyourpromisethatyouwillmarryafineyoungman,whomyoulove,andwhowillloveyou,asdearlyasIlovedmyflowers.

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