been stolen by some one else, or has already passed into the hands of a third person; if I do not recognise the man, only the tulip, how shall I prove that it belongs to me? On the other hand, if I recognise this Boxtel as Jacob, who knows what will come out of it? whilst we are contesting with each other, the tulip will die.”
In the meanwhile, a great noise was heard, like the distant roar of the sea, at the other extremity of the market place. People were running about, doors opening and shutting; Rosa alone was unconscious of all this hubbub among the multitude.
“We must return to the President,” she muttered
“Well, then, let us return,” said the boatman.
They took a small street, which led them straight to the mansion of Mynheer Van Herysen, who with his best pen, in his finest hand, continued to draw up his report.
Everywhere on her way, Rosa heard people speaking only of the black tulip, and the prize of a hundred thousand guilders. The news had spread like wildfire through the town.
Rosa had not a little difficulty in penetrating a second time into the office of Mynheer Van Herysen, who, however, was again moved by the magic name of the black tulip.
But when he recognised Rosa, whom in his own mind he had set down as mad, or even worse, he grew angry, and wanted to send her away.
Rosa, however, clasped her hands, and said with that tone of honest truth, which generally finds its way to the hearts of men,—
“For Heaven’s sake, sir, do not turn me away, listen to what I have to tell you, and if it be not possible for you to do me justice, at least you will not one day have to reproach yourself before God for having made yourself the accomplice of a bad action.”
