Чорний тюльпан
The Second Bulb
Corneliusburstoutlaughing,towhichGryphusansweredthroughthegrating,—
“Lethimlaughthatwins.”
ThewinnerthatdaywasCornelius;Rosacameatnine.
Shewaswithoutalantern.Sheneedednolongeralight,asshecouldnowread.Moreover,thelightmightbetrayher,asJacobwasdoggingherstepsmorethanever.Andlastly,thelightwouldhaveshownherblushes.
Ofwhatdidtheyoungpeoplespeakthatevening?OfthosemattersofwhichloversspeakatthehousedoorsinFrance,orfromabalconyintothestreetinSpain,ordownfromaterraceintoagardenintheEast.
Theyspokeofthosethingswhichgivewingstothehours;theyspokeofeverythingexcepttheblacktulip.
Atlast,whentheclockstruckten,theypartedasusual.
Corneliuswashappy,asthoroughlyhappyasatulip-fancierwouldbetowhomonehasnotspokenofhistulip.
HefoundRosapretty,good,graceful,andcharming.
ButwhydidRosaobjecttothetulipbeingspokenof?
ThiswasindeedagreatdefectinRosa.
Corneliusconfessedtohimself,sighing,thatwomanwasnotperfect.
Partofthenighthethoughtofthisimperfection;thatistosay,solongashewasawakehethoughtofRosa.
Afterhavingfallenasleep,hedreamedofher.
ButtheRosaofhisdreamswasbyfarmoreperfectthantheRosaofreallife.NotonlydidtheRosaofhisdreamsspeakofthetulip,butalsobroughttohimablackoneinachinavase.
Corneliusthenawoke,tremblingwithjoy,andmuttering,—
“Rosa,Rosa,Iloveyou.
