Page:The black tulip (IA 10892334.2209.emory.edu).pdf/252

 “Stop, that the gentleman may see,” said the officer, with that frank kindliness which is peculiar to military men, to the soldier who was acting as postillion.

“Oh, thank you, sir, for your kindness,” replied Van Baerle, in a melancholy tone; “the joy of others pains me, please spare me this pang.”

“Just as you wish. Drive on! I ordered the driver to stop because I thought it would please you, as you are said to love flowers, and especially that, the feast of which is celebrated to day.”

“And what flower is that?”

“The tulip.”

“The tulip!” cried Van Baerle, “is to-day the feast of the tulip?”

“Yes, sir, but as this spectacle displeases you, let us drive on.”

The officer was about to give the order to proceed, but Cornelius stopped him, a painful thought having struck him. He asked, with faltering voice,—

“Is the prize given to-day, sir?”

“Yes, the prize for the black tulip.”

Cornelius’ cheek flushed, his whole frame trembled, and the cold sweat stood on his brow.

“Alas! sir,” he said, “all these good people will be as unfortunate as myself, for they will not see the solemnity which they have come to witness, or at least they will see it incompletely.”

“What is it you mean to say?”

“I mean to say,” replied Cornelius, throwing himself back in the carriage, “that the black tulip will not be found, except by one whom I know.”

“In this case,” said the officer, “the person whom you know has found it, for the thing which the whole of Haarlem is looking at at this moment is neither more nor less than the black tulip.”

“The black tulip!” cried Van Baerle, thrusting half his body out of the carriage-window. “Where is it? where is it?”

“Down there, on the throne, don’t you see?”