THE INCOGNITO. 297 



cried he, 'would turn me out of doors and disinherit 

 me!' 



" ' Yes, but he shall know nothing about it — ^whilst there is 

 no doubt he will soon hear of the debts you have incurred.' 



" ' But, if he ever should know it !' 



" ' He never shall, unless you tell him yourseE' 



« ' But you.' 



" In short, I pressed, I terrified the unhappy young man ; — 

 he promised to give me an offset when they took up the tulip 

 roots, — but he required my oath on my honour never to 

 name, that which I call Rebecca, to anybody — and to give it 

 another name — tiU the death of his uncle. 



" In exchange for this promise, I gave him the money he 

 wanted. 



" Well, we both kept our words ; I had the tulip, and 1 have 

 never named it before any one ; — the first time it blossomed 

 here in my garden — being mine — the uncle came to see my 

 tulips. That is a courtesy which amateurs exchange, as you 

 know; — he looked at it and turned pale. 'What do you call 

 this 1 ' said he, in a faltering voice. 



" Ah ! Sir, I could willingly have paid him back all he had 



made me suffer ! I could have told him the name you 



don't know. But I remembered my promise, my promise on 

 my honour, and the nephew was present, and awaited my 

 answer in an agony, and I replied, ' Rebecca ! ' 



" He, nevertheless, could but observe the resemblance to his 

 tulip ; — he was evidently struck, but said nothing ; — he 

 praised the rest of my collection, but said not a word iu 

 praise of this, the pearl and the diamond of it. He came 

 again the next day — the following day — in short, every day 

 whilst it was in blossom, — ^but he succeeded in deceiving 

 himself; — he fancied he saw — between Rebecca and the other 

 — some imaginary differences ; but he only said, ' It in some 

 degree resembles — ^you know what.' 



" Well, Sir, I have now the tulip I have so much desired, 

 and yet I am not happy. What use is it to me, since I 

 cannot tell anybody? Some deep amateurs nearly recognise 

 it, but I am forced to deny the fact, and I don't meet with 

 one who is so sure as to say to me, You are a liar. I every day 

 undergo frightful torments; I am obliged to hear the praises 



