"Forty-eight thousand piastres!"
"She received three others full in the chest."
"Sixty thousand piastres!"
"It was a regular rain of bulbs—such a thing has never been seen—and it lasted half an hour. The whole garden was torn up, and the conservatory afterwards dismantled. My entire collection was destroyed."
"And, finally, the cost was—how much?" asked Kéraban.
"Greater than if we had only wanted head-wounds, like Homer's economical heroes," replied Van Mitten. "One way and another I fancy the cost was about twenty-five thousand florins."
"Two hundred thousand piastres," said Kéraban.
"But I was firm," said Van Mitten.
"That was worth something."
"Besides, I came away, having given orders to have my property realized, and transmitted to the bank in Constantinople. Then I came to Rotterdam with my faithful Bruno, and made up my mind not to enter my house again until Madame Van Mitten had quitted it—for a better world."
"Where tulip-throwing is unknown," remarked Ahmet.
"Now, Kéraban," said Van Mitten, "have you had many fits of obstinacy which have cost you two hundred thousand piastres?"
"I?" said Kéraban, secretly a little annoyed at this question.
"Yes, certainly," said Ahmet, "my uncle has had some—I know at least one."
"What was that, if you please?" asked Van Mitten.
"Why, this obstinate fit, which, for the sake of ten paras, is sending us all round the Black Sea. This will cost more than your little eradication of tulips."
"It will cost what it will cost," replied Kéraban dryly. "But I think my friend Van Mitten has not paid too dearly for his liberty. That's what comes of having only one wife. Mahomet knew what he was about when he permitted his followers to have as many as they could support."
"Certainly," replied Van Mitten. "I think ten wives are much easier to govern than one."
