Чорний тюльпан
The Maid and the Flower
ItwaspitifultoseeCornelius,dumbwithgrief,andpalefromutterprostration,stretchouthisheadthroughtheironbarsofhiswindow,attheriskofnotbeingabletodrawitbackagain,totryandgetaglimpseofthegardenontheleftspokenofbyRosa,whohadtoldhimthatitsparapetoverlookedtheriver.Hehopedthatperhapshemightsee,inthelightoftheAprilsun,Rosaorthetulip,thetwolostobjectsofhislove.
Intheevening,GryphustookawaythebreakfastanddinnerofCornelius,whohadscarcelytouchedthem.
Onthefollowingdayhedidnottouchthematall,andGryphuscarriedthedishesawayjustashehadbroughtthem.
Corneliushadremainedinbedthewholeday.
“Well,”saidGryphus,comingdownfromthelastvisit,“Ithinkweshallsoongetridofourscholar.”
Rosawasstartled.
“Nonsense!”saidJacob.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Hedoesn’tdrink,hedoesn’teat,hedoesn’tleavehisbed.Hewillgetoutofit,likeMynheerGrotius,inachest,onlythechestwillbeacoffin.”
Rosagrewpaleasdeath.
“Ah!”shesaidtoherself,“heisuneasyabouthistulip.”
And,risingwithaheavyheart,shereturnedtoherchamber,whereshetookapenandpaper,andduringthewholeofthatnightbusiedherselfwithtracingletters.
Onthefollowingmorning,whenCorneliusgotuptodraghimselftothewindow,heperceivedapaperwhichhadbeenslippedunderthedoor
