“In truth you draw Master Boxtel’s portrait, feature by feature.”
“And the tulip, sir? Is it not in a pot of white and blue earthenware, with yellowish flowers in a basket on three sides?”
“Oh, as to that, I am not quite sure; I looked more at the flower than at the pot.”
“Oh, sir! that’s my tulip, which has been stolen from me. I come here to reclaim it before you and from you.”
“Oh! oh!” said Van Herysen, looking at Rosa.
“What! you are here to claim the tulip of Master Boxtel? Well, I must say, you are cool enough.”
“Honoured sir,” said Rosa, a little put out by this apostrophe, “I do not say that I am coming to claim the tulip of Master Boxtel, but to reclaim my own,”
“Yours?”
“Yes, the one which I have myself planted and nursed.”
“Well, then, go, and find out Master Boxtel, at the White Swan Inn, and you can then settle matters with him; as for me, considering that the cause seems to me as difficult to judge as that which was brought before King Solomon, and that I do not pretend to be as wise as he was, I shall content myself with making my report, establishing the existence of the black tulip, and ordering the hundred thousand guilders to be paid to its grower. Good bye, my child.”
“Oh, sir, sir,” said Rosa, imploringly.
“Only, my child,” continued Van Herysen, “as you are young and pretty, and as there may be still some good in you, I’ll give you good advice. Be prudent in this matter, for we have a court of justice, and a prison here at Haarlem; and, moreover, we are exceedingly ticklish, as far as the honour of our tulips is concerned
