have it at home," said Boxtel, quite confused.

"At home? Where? At Loewestein, or at Dort?"

"At Dort," said Boxtel.

"You lie!" cried Rosa. "Monseigneur," she continued, whilst turning
round to the Prince, "I will tell you the true story of these three
bulbs. The first was crushed by my father in the prisoner's cell, and
this man is quite aware of it, for he himself wanted to get hold of it,
and, being balked in his hope, he very nearly fell out with my father,
who had been the cause of his disappointment. The second bulb, planted
by me, has produced the black tulip, and the third and last"--saying
this, she drew it from her bosom--"here it is, in the very same paper in
which it was wrapped up together with the two others. When about to be
led to the scaffold, Cornelius van Baerle gave me all the three. Take
it, Monseigneur, take it."

And Rosa, unfolding the paper, offered the bulb to the Prince, who took
it from her hands and examined it.

"But, Monseigneur, this young woman may have stolen the bulb, as she did
the tulip," Boxtel said, with a faltering voice, and evidently alarmed
at the attention with which the Prince examined the bulb; and even more
at the movements of Rosa, who was reading some lines written on the
paper which remained in her hands.

Her eyes suddenly lighted up; she read, with breathless anxiety, the
mysterious paper over and over again; and at last, uttering a cry, held
it out to the Prince and said, "Read, Monseigneur, for Heaven's sake,
read!"

William handed the third bulb to Van Systens, took the paper, and read.

No sooner had he looked at it than he began to stagger; his hand
trembled, and very nearly let the paper fall to the ground; and the
expression of pain and compassion in his features was really frightful
to see.

It was that fly-leaf, taken from the Bible, which Cornelius de Witt had
sent to Dort by Craeke, the servant of his brother John, to request
Van Baerle to burn the correspondence of the Grand Pensionary with the
Marquis de Louvois.

This request, as the reader may remember, was couched in the following
terms:--

"My Dear Godson,--

"Burn the parcel which I have intrusted to you. Burn it without looking
at it, and without opening it, so that its contents may for ever remain
unknown to yourself. Secrets of this description are death to those
with whom they are deposited. Burn it, and you will have saved John and
Cornelius de Witt.

"Farewell, and love me.