“Enough?” said Cornelius.
“I have three hundred guilders.”
“Oh, if you have three hundred guilders, you must not send a messenger, Rosa, but you must go to Haarlem yourself.”
“But what in the meantime is to become of the flower?”
“Oh, the flower! you must take it with you. You understand that you must not separate from it for an instant.”
“But whilst I am not separating from it, I am separating from you, Mynheer Cornelius.”
“Ah! that’s true, my sweet Rosa. Oh, my God! how wicked men are! What have I done to offend them, and why have they deprived me of my liberty? You are right, Rosa, I cannot live without you. Well, you will send some one to Haarlem,—that’s settled; really, the matter is wonderful enough for the President to put himself to some trouble. He will come himself to Loewestein to see the tulip.”
Then, suddenly checking himself, he said, with a faltering voice,—
“Rosa, Rosa, if after all it should not flower black!”
“Oh, surely, surely, you will know to-morrow, or the day after.”