Van Herysen stamped his foot with impatience; it was the second time that Rosa interrupted him in the midst of a composition, which stimulated his vanity, both as a burgomaster and as the President of the Horticultural Society.
“But my report!” he cried; “my report on the black tulip!”
“Mynheer Van Herysen,” Rosa continued, with the firmness of innocence and truth, “your report on the black tulip will, if you don’t hear me, be based on crime or on falsehood. I implore you, sir, let this Master Boxtel, whom I assert to be Master Jacob, be brought here before you and me, and I swear that I will leave him in undisturbed possession of the tulip if I do not recognise the flower and its holder.”
“Well, I declare, here is a proposal,” said Van Herysen.
“What do you mean?”
“I ask you what can be proved by your recognising them?”
“After all,” said Rosa, in her despair, “you are an honest man, sir; how would you feel if one day you found out that you had given the prize to a man for something which he not only had not produced, but which he had even stolen?”
Rosa’s speech seemed to have brought a certain conviction into the heart of Van Herysen, and he was going to answer her in a gentler tone, when at once a great noise was heard in the street, and loud cheers shook the house.
“What is this?” cried the burgomaster; “what is this? Is it possible? have I heard right?”
And he rushed towards his ante-room, without any longer heeding Rosa, whom he left in his cabinet.
Scarcely had he reached his ante-room, when he cried
