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He went up to Rosa, and with his finger, gave her a sign toremove her hands from her face.

Rosa obeyed, as if under mesmeric influence, without havingseen the sign.

"It was, then to follow this man that you came to me atLeyden to solicit for the transfer of your father?"

Rosa hung down her head, and, nearly choking, said, --

"Yes, your Highness."

"Go on," said the Prince to Boxtel.

"I have nothing more to say," Isaac continued. "YourHighness knows all. But there is one thing which I did notintend to say, because I did not wish to make this girlblush for her ingratitude. I came to Loewestein because Ihad business there. On this occasion I made the acquaintanceof old Gryphus, and, falling in love with his daughter, madean offer of marriage to her; and, not being rich, Icommitted the imprudence of mentioning to them my prospectof gaining a hundred thousand guilders, in proof of which Ishowed to them the black tulip. Her lover having himselfmade a show at Dort of cultivating tulips to hide hispolitical intrigues, they now plotted together for my ruin.On the eve of the day when the flower was expected to open,the tulip was taken away by this young woman. She carried itto her room, from which I had the good luck to recover it atthe very moment when she had the impudence to despatch amessenger to announce to the members of the HorticulturalSociety that she had produced the grand black tulip. But shedid not stop there. There is no doubt that, during the fewhours which she kept the flower in her room, she showed itto some persons whom she may now call as witnesses. But,fortunately, your Highness has now been warned against thisimpostor and her witnesses."

"Oh, my God, my God! what infamous falsehoods!" said Rosa,bursting into tears, and throwing herself at the feet of theStadtholder, who, although thinking her guilty, felt pityfor her dreadful agony.

"You have done very wrong, my child," he said, "and yourlover shall be punished for having thus badly advised you.For you are so young, and have such an honest look, that Iam inclined to believe the mischief to have been his doing,and not yours."

"Monseigneur! Monseigneur!" cried Rosa, "Cornelius is notguilty."

William started.

"Not guilty of having advised you? that's what you want tosay, is it not?"

"What I wish to say, your Highness, is that Cornelius is aslittle guilty of the second crime imputed to him as he wasof the first."

"Of the first? And do you know what was his first crime? Doyou know of what he was accused and convicted? Of having, asan accomplice of Cornelius de Witt, concealed thecorrespondence of the Grand Pensionary and the Marquis deLouvois."

"Well, sir, he was ignorant of this correspondence beingdeposited with him; completely ignorant. I am as certain asof my life, that, if it were not so, he would have told me;for how could that pure mind have harboured a secret withoutrevealing it to me? No, no, your Highness, I repeat it, andeven at the risk of incurring your displeasure, Cornelius isno more guilty of the first crime than of the second; and ofthe second no more than of the first. Oh, would to Heaventhat you knew my Cornelius; Monseigneur!"

"He is a De Witt!" cried Boxtel. "His Highness knows onlytoo much of him, having once granted him his life."

"Silence!" said the Prince; "all these affairs of state, asI have already said, are completely out of the province ofthe Horticultural Society of Haarlem."

Then, knitting his brow, he added, --

"As to the tulip, make yourself easy, Master Boxtel, youshall have justice done to you."

Boxtel bowed with a heart full of joy, and received thecongratulations of the President.

"You, my child," William of Orange continued, "you weregoing to commit a crime. I will not punish you; but the realevil-doer shall pay the penalty for both. A man of his namemay be a conspirator, and even a traitor, but he ought notto be a thief."

"A thief!" cried Rosa. "Cornelius a thief? Pray, yourHighness, do not say such a word, it would kill him, if heknew it. If theft there has been, I swear to you, Sir, noone else but this man has committed it."

"Prove it," Boxtel coolly remarked.

"I shall prove it. With God's help I shall."

Then, turning towards Boxtel, she asked, --

"The tulip is yours?"

"It is."

"How many bulbs were there of it?"

Boxtel hesitated for a moment, but after a shortconsideration he came to the conclusion that she would notask this question if there were none besides the two bulbsof which he had known already. He therefore answered, --

"Three."

"What has become of these bulbs?"

"Oh! what has become of them? Well, one has failed; thesecond has produced the black tulip."

"And the third?

"The third!"

"The third, -- where is it?"

"I have it at home," said Boxtel, quite confused.

"At home? Where? At Loewestein, or at Dort?"

"At Dort," said Boxtel.

"You lie!" cried Rosa. "Monseigneur," she continued, whilstturning round to the Prince, "I will tell you the true storyof these three bulbs. The first was crushed by my father inthe prisoner's cell, and this man is quite aware of it, forhe himself wanted to get hold of it, and, being balked inhis hope, he very nearly fell out with my father, who hadbeen the cause of his disappointment. The second bulb,planted by me, has produced the black tulip, and the thirdand last" -- saying this, she drew it from her bosom --"here it is, in the very same paper in which it was wrappedup together with the two others. When about to be led to thescaffold, Cornelius van Baerle gave me all the three. Takeit, Monseigneur, take it."

And Rosa, unfolding the paper, offered the bulb to thePrince, who took it from her hands and examined it.

"But, Monseigneur, this young woman may have stolen thebulb, as she did the tulip," Boxtel said, with a falteringvoice, and evidently alarmed at the attention with which thePrince examined the bulb; and even more at the movements ofRosa, who was reading some lines written on the paper whichremained in her hands.

Her eyes suddenly lighted up; she read, with breathlessanxiety, the mysterious paper over and over again; and atlast, uttering a cry, held it out to the Prince and said,"Read, Monseigneur, for Heaven's sake, read!"

William handed the third bulb to Van Systens, took thepaper, and read.

No sooner had he looked at it than he began to stagger; hishand trembled, and very nearly let the paper fall to theground; and the expression of pain and compassion in hisfeatures was really frightful to see.

It was that fly-leaf, taken from the Bible, which Corneliusde Witt had sent to Dort by Craeke, the servant of hisbrother John, to request Van Baerle to burn thecorrespondence of the Grand Pensionary with the Marquis deLouvois.

This request, as the reader may remember, was couched in thefollowing terms: --

"My Dear Godson, --

"Burn the parcel which I have intrusted to you. Burn itwithout looking at it, and without opening it, so that itscontents may for ever remain unknown to yourself. Secrets ofthis description are death to those with whom they aredeposited. Burn it, and you will have saved John andCornelius de Witt.

"Farewell, and love me.

Cornelius de Witt.

"August 20, 1672."

This slip of paper offered the proofs both of Van Baerle'sinnocence and of his claim to the property of the tulip.

Rosa and the Stadtholder exchanged one look only.

That of Rosa was meant to express, "Here, you see yourself."

That of the Stadtholder signified, "Be quiet, and wait."

The Prince wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, andslowly folded up the paper, whilst his thoughts werewandering in that labyrinth without a goal and without aguide, which is called remorse and shame for the past.

Soon, however, raising his head with an effort, he said, inhis usual voice, --

"Go, Mr. Boxtel; justice shall be done, I promise you."

Then, turning to the President, he added, --

"You, my dear Mynheer van Systens, take charge of this youngwoman and of the tulip. Good-bye."

All bowed, and the Prince left, among the deafening cheersof the crowd outside.

Boxtel returned to his inn, rather puzzled and uneasy,tormented by misgivings about that paper which William hadreceived from the hand of Rosa, and which his Highness hadread, folded up, and so carefully put in his pocket. Whatwas the meaning of all this?

Rosa went up to the tulip, tenderly kissed its leaves and,with a heart full of happiness and confidence in the ways ofGod, broke out in the words, --

"Thou knowest best for what end Thou madest my goodCornelius teach me to read."

Chapter 28

The Hymn of the Flowers

Whilst the events we have described in our last chapter weretaking place, the unfortunate Van Baerle, forgotten in hiscell in the fortress of Loewestein, suffered at the hands ofGryphus all that a prisoner can suffer when his jailer hasformed the determination of playing the part of hangman.

Gryphus, not having received any tidings of Rosa or ofJacob, persuaded himself that all that had happened was thedevil's work, and that Dr. Cornelius van Baerle had beensent on earth by Satan.

The result of it was, that, one fine morning, the thirdafter the disappearance of Jacob and Rosa, he went up to thecell of Cornelius in even a greater rage than usual.

The latter, leaning with his elbows on the window-sill andsupporting his head with his two hands, whilst his eyeswandered over the distant hazy horizon where the windmillsof Dort were turning their sails, was breathing the freshair, in order to be able to keep down his tears and tofortify himself in his philosophy.

The pigeons were still there, but hope was not there; therewas no future to look forward to.

Alas! Rosa, being watched, was no longer able to come. Couldshe not write? and if so, could she convey her letters tohim?

No, no. He had seen during the two preceding days too muchfury and malignity in the eyes of old Gryphus to expect thathis vigilance would relax, even for one moment. Moreover,had not she to suffer even worse torments than those ofseclusion and separation? Did this brutal, blaspheming,drunken bully take revenge on his daughter, like theruthless fathers of the Greek drama? And when the Genievrehad heated his brain, would it not give to his arm, whichhad been only too well set by Cornelius, even double force?

The idea that Rosa might perhaps be ill-treated nearly droveCornelius mad.

He then felt his own powerlessness. He asked himself whetherGod was just in inflicting so much tribulation on twoinnocent creatures. And certainly in these moments he beganto doubt the wisdom of Providence. It is one of the cursesof misfortune that it thus begets doubt.

Van Baerle had proposed to write to Rosa, but where was she?

He also would have wished to write to the Hague to bebeforehand with Gryphus, who, he had no doubt, would bydenouncing him do his best to bring new storms on his head.

But how should he write? Gryphus had taken the paper andpencil from him, and even if he had both, he could hardlyexpect Gryphus to despatch his letter.

Then Cornelius revolved in his mind all those stratagemsresorted to by unfortunate prisoners.

He had thought of an attempt to escape, a thing which neverentered his head whilst he could see Rosa every day; but themore he thought of it, the more clearly he saw theimpracticability of such an attempt. He was one of thosechoice spirits who abhor everything that is common, and whooften lose a good chance through not taking the way of thevulgar, that high road of mediocrity which leads toeverything.

"How is it possible," said Cornelius to himself, "that Ishould escape from Loewestein, as Grotius has done the samething before me? Has not every precaution been taken since?Are not the windows barred? Are not the doors of double andeven of treble strength, and the sentinels ten times morewatchful? And have not I, besides all this, an Argus so muchthe more dangerous as he has the keen eyes of hatred?Finally, is there not one fact which takes away all myspirit, I mean Rosa's absence? But suppose I should wasteten years of my life in making a file to file off my bars,or in braiding cords to let myself down from the window, orin sticking wings on my shoulders to fly, like Daedalus? Butluck is against me now. The file would get dull, the ropewould break, or my wings would melt in the sun; I shouldsurely kill myself, I should be picked up maimed andcrippled; I should be labelled, and put on exhibition in themuseum at the Hague between the blood-stained doublet ofWilliam the Taciturn and the female walrus captured atStavesen, and the only result of my enterprise will havebeen to procure me a place among the curiosities of Holland.

"But no; and it is much better so. Some fine day Gryphuswill commit some atrocity. I am losing my patience, since Ihave lost the joy and company of Rosa, and especially sinceI have lost my tulip. Undoubtedly, some day or other Gryphuswill attack me in a manner painful to my self-respect, or tomy love, or even threaten my personal safety. I don't knowhow it is, but since my imprisonment I feel a strange andalmost irresistible pugnacity. Well, I shall get at thethroat of that old villain, and strangle him."

Cornelius at these words stopped for a moment, biting hislips and staring out before him; then, eagerly returning toan idea which seemed to possess a strange fascination forhim, he continued, --

"Well, and once having strangled him, why should I not takehis keys from him, why not go down the stairs as if I haddone the most virtuous action, why not go and fetch Rosafrom her room, why not tell her all, and jump from herwindow into the Waal? I am expert enough as a swimmer tosave both of us. Rosa, -- but, oh Heaven, Gryphus is herfather! Whatever may be her affection for me, she will neverapprove of my having strangled her father, brutal andmalicious as he has been.

"I shall have to enter into an argument with her; and in themidst of my speech some wretched turnkey who has foundGryphus with the death-rattle in his throat, or perhapsactually dead, will come along and put his hand on myshoulder. Then I shall see the Buytenhof again, and thegleam of that infernal sword, -- which will not stophalf-way a second time, but will make acquaintance with thenape of my neck.