“Is this person the mutinous prisoner who has attempted to
kill his jailer at Loewestein?”
Cornelius heaved a sigh and hung his head. His good-tempered
honest face turned pale and red at the same instant. These
words of the all-powerful Prince, who by some secret
messenger unavailable to other mortals had already been
apprised of his crime, seemed to him to forebode not only
his doom, but also the refusal of his last request.
He did not try to make a struggle, or to defend himself; and
he presented to the Prince the affecting spectacle of
despairing innocence, like that of a child, — a spectacle
which was fully understood and felt by the great mind and
the great heart of him who observed it.
“Allow the prisoner to alight, and let him see the black
tulip; it is well worth being seen once.”
“Thank you, Monseigneur, thank you,” said Cornelius, nearly
swooning with joy, and staggering on the steps of his
carriage; had not the officer supported him, our poor friend
would have made his thanks to his Highness prostrate on his
knees with his forehead in the dust.
After having granted this permission, the Prince proceeded
on his way over the green amidst the most enthusiastic
acclamations.
He soon arrived at the platform, and the thunder of cannon
shook the air.
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Chapter 33
Conclusion
Van Baerle, led by four guards, who pushed their way through
the crowd, sidled up to the black tulip, towards which his
gaze was attracted with increasing interest the nearer he
approached to it.
He saw it at last, that unique flower, which he was to see
once and no more. He saw it at the distance of six paces,
and was delighted with its perfection and gracefulness; he
saw it surrounded by young and beautiful girls, who formed,
as it were, a guard of honour for this queen of excellence
and purity. And yet, the more he ascertained with his own
eyes the perfection of the flower, the more wretched and
miserable he felt. He looked all around for some one to whom
he might address only one question, but his eyes everywhere
met strange faces, and the attention of all was directed
towards the chair of state, on which the Stadtholder had
seated himself.
William rose, casting a tranquil glance over the
enthusiastic crowd, and his keen eyes rested by turns on the
three extremities of a triangle formed opposite to him by
three persons of very different interests and feelings.
At one of the angles, Boxtel, trembling with impatience, and
quite absorbed in watching the Prince, the guilders, the
black tulip, and the crowd.
At the other, Cornelius, panting for breath, silent, and his
attention, his eyes, his life, his heart, his love, quite
concentrated on the black tulip.
And thirdly, standing on a raised step among the maidens of
Haarlem, a beautiful Frisian girl, dressed in fine scarlet
woollen cloth, embroidered with silver, and covered with a
lace veil, which fell in rich folds from her head-dress of
gold brocade; in one word, Rosa, who, faint and with
swimming eyes, was leaning on the arm of one of the officers
of William.
The Prince then slowly unfolded the parchment, and said,
with a calm clear voice, which, although low, made itself
perfectly heard amidst the respectful silence, which all at
once arrested the breath of fifty thousand spectators. —
“You know what has brought us here?
“A prize of one hundred thousand guilders has been promised
to whosoever should grow the black tulip.
“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
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effect they produced, surveyed with his eagle eye the three
extremities of the triangle.
He saw Boxtel rushing forward. He saw Cornelius make an