hundred guilder, as I wish that day to be a great day for you.”
“How does Your Highness wish me to be dressed?” faltered Rosa.
“Take the costume of a Frisian bride,” said William, “it will suit you very well indeed.”
CHAPTER XXXI.
Haarlem.
The fifteenth of May, 1673, was a great day for the good city of Haarlem. It had to celebrate a three-fold festival. In the first place, the black tulip had been produced; secondly, the Prince William of Orange, as a true Hollander, had promised to be present at the ceremony of its inauguration; and, thirdly, it was a point of honour with the States to show to the French, at the conclusion of such a disastrous war as that of 1672, that the flooring of the Batavian Republic was solid enough for its people to dance on it, with the accompaniment of the eannon of their fleets.
The Horticultural Society of Haarlem had shown itself worthy of its fame, by giving a hundred thousand guilders for the bulb of a tulip. The town, which did not wish to remain behindhand, voted a like sum, which was placed in the hands of that notable body to solemnise the auspicious event.
And, indeed, on the Sunday fixed for this ceremony, there was such a stir among the people, and such an enthusiasm among the townsfolk, that even a Frenchman, who laughs at everything at all times, could not have helped admiring the character of those honest Hollanders, who were equally ready to spend their money for the construction of a man-of-war, that is to say, for the support of national honour, as they were to reward the grower of a new flower, destined to bloom for one day, and to serve during that day to divert the ladies, the learned, and the curious.
