|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 55
"But, sir, a hundred thousand guilders!"
"Well, let us talk seriously, my dear child: those hundred
thousand guilders will be a nice marriage portion, with your
pretty face; you shall have them, Rosa, dear Rosa, and I ask
nothing in return but your promise that you will marry a
fine young man, whom you love, and who will love you, as
dearly as I loved my flowers. Don't interrupt me, Rosa dear,
I have only a few minutes more."
The poor girl was nearly choking with her sobs.
Cornelius took her by the hand.
"Listen to me," he continued: "I'll tell you how to manage
it. Go to Dort and ask Butruysheim, my gardener, for soil
from my border number six, fill a deep box with it, and
plant in it these three bulbs. They will flower next May,
that is to say, in seven months; and, when you see the
flower forming on the stem, be careful at night to protect
them from the wind, and by day to screen them from the sun.
They will flower black, I am quite sure of it. You are then
to apprise the President of the Haarlem Society. He will
cause the color of the flower to be proved before a
committee and these hundred thousand guilders will be paid
to you."
Rosa heaved a deep sigh.
"And now," continued Cornelius, -- wiping away a tear which
was glistening in his eye, and which was shed much more for
that marvellous black tulip which he was not to see than for
the life which he was about to lose, -- "I have no wish
left, except that the tulip should be called Rosa
Barlaensis, that is to say, that its name should combine
yours and mine; and as, of course, you do not understand
Latin, and might therefore forget this name, try to get for
me pencil and paper, that I may write it down for you."
Rosa sobbed afresh, and handed to him a book, bound in
shagreen, which bore the initials C. W.
"What is this?" asked the prisoner.
"Alas!" replied Rosa, "it is the Bible of your poor
godfather, Cornelius de Witt. From it he derived strength to
endure the torture, and to bear his sentence without
flinching. I found it in this cell, after the death of the
martyr, and have preserved it as a relic. To-day I brought
it to you, for it seemed to me that this book must possess
in itself a divine power. Write in it what you have to
write, Mynheer Cornelius; and though, unfortunately, I am
not able to read, I will take care that what you write shall
be accomplished."
Cornelius took the Bible, and kissed it reverently.
"With what shall I write?" asked Cornelius.
"There is a pencil in the Bible," said Rosa.
This was the pencil which John de Witt had lent to his
brother, and which he had forgotten to take away with him.
Cornelius took it, and on the second fly leaf (for it will
be remembered that the first was torn out), drawing near his
end like his godfather, he wrote with a no less firm hand:
--
"On this day, the 23d of August, 1672, being on the point of
rendering, although innocent, my soul to God on the
scaffold, I bequeath to Rosa Gryphus the only worldly goods
which remain to me of all that I have possessed in this
world, the rest having been confiscated; I bequeath, I say,
to Rosa Gryphus three bulbs, which I am convinced must
produce, in the next May, the Grand Black Tulip for which a
prize of a hundred thousand guilders has been offered by the
Haarlem Society, requesting that she may be paid the same
sum in my stead, as my sole heiress, under the only
condition of her marrying a respectable young man of about
my age, who loves her, and whom she loves, and of her giving
the black tulip, which will constitute a new species, the
name of Rosa Barlaensis, that is to say, hers and mine
combined.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|