resumed his seat in the dark corner, where he had himself placed his chair.
Rosa, trembling, pale, and terrified, expected to be invited in her turn to see the tulip.
She now heard the voice of Boxtel.
“It is he!” she exclaimed.
The Prince made her a sign to go and look through the open door into the drawing-room.
“It is my tulip,” cried Rosa, “I recognise it. Oh, my poor Cornelius!”
And saying this she burst into tears.
The Prince rose from his seat, went to the door, where he stood for some time with the full light falling upon his figure.
As Rosa’s eyes now rested upon him, she felt more than ever convinced that this was not the first time she had seen the stranger.
“Master Boxtel,” said the Prince, “come in here, if you please.”
Boxtel eagerly approached, and finding himself face to face with William of Orange, started back.
“His Highness!” he called out.
“His Highness!” Rosa repeated in dismay.
Hearing this exclamation on his left, Boxtel turned round, and perceived Rosa.
At this sight the whole frame of the thief shook as if under the influence of a galvanic shock.
“Ah!” muttered the Prince to himself, “he is confused.”
But Boxtel, making a violent effort to control his feelings, was already himself again.
“Master Boxtel,” said William, “you seem to have discovered the secret of growing the black tulip?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” answered Boxtel, in a voice which still betrayed some confusion.
