Haarlem, and, moreover, we are exceedingly ticklish
as far as the honour of our tulips is concerned. Go, my child, go,
remember, Master Isaac Boxtel at the White Swan Inn."

And Mynheer van Systens, taking up his fine pen, resumed his report,
which had been interrupted by Rosa's visit.

Chapter 26. A Member of the Horticultural Society

Rosa, beyond herself and nearly mad with joy and fear at the idea of the
black tulip being found again, started for the White Swan, followed by
the boatman, a stout lad from Frisia, who was strong enough to knock
down a dozen Boxtels single-handed.

He had been made acquainted in the course of the journey with the state
of affairs, and was not afraid of any encounter; only he had orders, in
such a case, to spare the tulip.

But on arriving in the great market-place Rosa at once stopped, a sudden
thought had struck her, just as Homer's Minerva seizes Achilles by the
hair at the moment when he is about to be carried away by his anger.

"Good Heaven!" she muttered to herself, "I have made a grievous blunder;
it may be I have ruined Cornelius, the tulip, and myself. I have given
the alarm, and perhaps awakened suspicion. I am but a woman; these men
may league themselves against me, and then I shall be lost. If I am lost
that matters nothing,--but Cornelius and the tulip!"

She reflected for a moment.

"If I go to that Boxtel, and do not know him; if that Boxtel is not my
Jacob, but another fancier, who has also discovered the black tulip; or
if my tulip has been stolen by some one else, or has already passed into
the hands of a third person;--if I do not recognize the man, only the
tulip, how shall I prove that it belongs to me? On the other hand, if
I recognise this Boxtel as Jacob, who knows what will come out of it?
whilst we are contesting with each other, the tulip will die."

In the meanwhile, a great noise was heard, like the distant roar of the
sea, at the other extremity of the market-place. People were running
about, doors opening and shutting, Rosa alone was unconscious of all
this hubbub among the multitude.

"We must return to the President," she muttered.

"Well, then, let us return," said the boatman.

They took a small street, which led them straight to the mansion of
Mynheer van Systens, who with his best pen in his finest hand continued
to draw up his report.

Everywhere on her way Rosa heard people speaking only of the black
tulip, and the prize of a