“The black tulip has been grown; here it is before your eyes, coming up to all the conditions required by the programme of the Horticultural Society of Haarlem.
“The history of its production, and the name of its grower, will be inscribed in the book of honour of the city.
“Let the person approach to whom the black tulip belongs.”
In pronouncing these words, the Prince, to judge of the effect they produced, surveyed with his eagle eye the three extremities of the triangle.
He saw Boxtel rushing forward. He saw Cornelius make an involuntary movement; and lastly he saw the officer who was taking care of Rosa lead, or rather push her forward towards him.
At the sight of Rosa, a double cry arose on the right and left of the Prince.
Boxtel, thunderstruck, and Cornelius, in joyful amazement, both exclaimed,—
“Rosa! Rosa!”
“This tulip is yours, is it not, my child?” said the Prince.
“Yes, Monseigneur,” stammered Rosa, whose striking beauty excited a general murmur of applause.