Чорний тюльпан
The Hatred of a Tulip-fancier
Attheearliestdawnthedoorofthewhitehouseopened,andVanBaerlemadehisappearance,approachingtheflower-bedswiththesmileofamanwhohaspassedthenightcomfortablyinhisbed,andhashadhappydreams.
Allatonceheperceivedfurrowsandlittlemoundsofearthonthebedswhichonlytheeveningbeforehadbeenassmoothasamirror,allatonceheperceivedthesymmetricalrowsofhistulipstobecompletelydisordered,likethepikesofabattalioninthemidstofwhichashellhasfallen.
Heranuptothemwithblanchedcheek.
Boxteltrembledwithjoy.Fifteenortwentytulips,tornandcrushed,werelyingabout,someofthembent,otherscompletelybrokenandalreadywithering,thesapoozingfromtheirbleedingbulbs:howgladlywouldVanBaerlehaveredeemedthatprecioussapwithhisownblood!
Butwhatwerehissurpriseandhisdelight!whatwasthedisappointmentofhisrival!Notoneofthefourtulipswhichthelatterhadmeanttodestroywasinjuredatall.Theyraisedproudlytheirnobleheadsabovethecorpsesoftheirslaincompanions.ThiswasenoughtoconsoleVanBaerle,andenoughtofantherageofthehorticulturalmurderer,whotorehishairatthesightoftheeffectsofthecrimewhichhehadcommittedinvain.
VanBaerlecouldnotimaginethecauseofthemishap,which,fortunately,wasoffarlessconsequencethanitmighthavebeen.Onmakinginquiries,helearnedthatthewholenighthadbeendisturbedbyterriblecaterwaulings.
