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Updated: May 24, 2025
A supplementary clause was tacked to the sentence, to the effect that "the aforesaid Cornelius van Baerle should be led from the prison of the Buytenhof to the scaffold in the yard of the same name, where the public executioner would cut off his head." As this deliberation was a most serious affair, it lasted a full half-hour, during which the prisoner was remanded to his cell.
"What?" "You would not suffer any longer; whereas, I will not disguise it from you, I shall lead you a sad life of it." "Thank you for the promise, Master Gryphus." And whilst the prisoner smiled ironically at the old jailer, Rosa, from the outside, answered by a bright smile, which carried sweet consolation to the heart of Van Baerle. Gryphus stepped towards the window.
The young girl, whilst the prisoner was mounting the staircase, appeared at the narrow door of her chamber, which opened on that very flight of steps; and, holding the lamp in her right hand, she at the same time lit up her pretty blooming face, surrounded by a profusion of rich wavy golden locks, whilst with her left she held her white night-dress closely over her breast, having been roused from her first slumber by the unexpected arrival of Van Baerle.
The tulips, like true daughters of the East, averse to cold, do not abide in the open ground in winter. They need the shelter of the house, the soft bed on the shelves, and the congenial warmth of the stove. Van Baerle, therefore, passed the whole winter in his laboratory, in the midst of his books and pictures.
"My good Master Gryphus, I know you perfectly well," said the prisoner, approaching within the circle of light cast around by the lantern. "Halloa! that's you, Mynheer van Baerle," said Gryphus. "That's you; well, I declare, it's astonishing how people do meet."
But another time the hours passed away without bringing the sweet vision which lighted up, through the grated window, the cell of poor Cornelius, and which, in retiring, left light enough in his heart to last until it came back again. Van Baerle passed the night in an agony of despair.
'Tulipa nigra Barlaensis! 'Why Barlaensis? 'After its grower, Van Baerle, will be the answer. 'And who is this Van Baerle? 'It is the same who has already produced five new tulips: the Jane, the John de Witt, the Cornelius de Witt, etc. Well, that is what I call my ambition. It will cause tears to no one.
Yet Van Baerle made such progress in the noble science of growing tulips, which he seemed to master with the true instinct of genius, that Boxtel at last was maddened to such a degree as to think of throwing stones and sticks into the flower-stands of his neighbour.
Boxtel had not the good fortune of being rich, like Van Baerle.
"Come along, sir," said the officer. "Now we must drive off." "Oh, have pity, have mercy, sir!" said Van Baerle, "don't take me away! Let me look once more! Is what I see down there the black tulip? Quite black? Is it possible? Oh, sir, have you seen it? It must have specks, it must be imperfect, it must only be dyed black. Ah! if I were there, I should see it at once.
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