Чорний тюльпан
A Member of the Horticultural Society
Peoplewererunningabout,doorsopeningandshutting,Rosaalonewasunconsciousofallthishubbubamongthemultitude.
“WemustreturntothePresident,”shemuttered.
“Well,then,letusreturn,”saidtheboatman.
Theytookasmallstreet,whichledthemstraighttothemansionofMynheervanSystens,whowithhisbestpeninhisfinesthandcontinuedtodrawuphisreport.
EverywhereonherwayRosaheardpeoplespeakingonlyoftheblacktulip,andtheprizeofahundredthousandguilders.Thenewshadspreadlikewildfirethroughthetown.
RosahadnotalittledifficultyispenetratingasecondtimeintotheofficeofMynheervanSystens,who,however,wasagainmovedbythemagicnameoftheblacktulip.
ButwhenherecognisedRosa,whominhisownmindhehadsetdownasmad,orevenworse,hegrewangry,andwantedtosendheraway.
Rosa,however,claspedherhands,andsaidwiththattoneofhonesttruthwhichgenerallyfindsitswaytotheheartsofmen,—
“ForHeaven’ssake,sir,donotturnmeaway;listentowhatIhavetotellyou,andifitbenotpossibleforyoutodomejustice,atleastyouwillnotonedayhavetoreproachyourselfbeforeGodforhavingmadeyourselftheaccompliceofabadaction.”
VanSystensstampedhisfootwithimpatience;itwasthesecondtimethatRosainterruptedhiminthemidstofacompositionwhichstimulatedhisvanity,bothasaburgomasterandasPresidentoftheHorticulturalSociety.
