"Cornelius de Witt.

"August 20, 1672."

This slip of paper offered the proofs both of Van Baerle's innocence and
of his claim to the property of the tulip.

Rosa and the Stadtholder exchanged one look only.

That of Rosa was meant to express, "Here, you see yourself."

That of the Stadtholder signified, "Be quiet, and wait."

The Prince wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and slowly folded up
the paper, whilst his thoughts were wandering in that labyrinth without
a goal and without a guide, which is called remorse and shame for the
past.

Soon, however, raising his head with an effort, he said, in his usual
voice,--

"Go, Mr. Boxtel; justice shall be done, I promise you."

Then, turning to the President, he added,--

"You, my dear Mynheer van Systens, take charge of this young woman and
of the tulip. Good-bye."

All bowed, and the Prince left, among the deafening cheers of the crowd
outside.

Boxtel returned to his inn, rather puzzled and uneasy, tormented by
misgivings about that paper which William had received from the hand of
Rosa, and which his Highness had read, folded up, and so carefully put
in his pocket. What was the meaning of all this?

Rosa went up to the tulip, tenderly kissed its leaves and, with a heart
full of happiness and confidence in the ways of God, broke out in the
words,--

"Thou knowest best for what end Thou madest my good Cornelius teach me
to read."

Chapter 28. The Hymn of the Flowers

Whilst the events we have described in our last chapter were taking
place, the unfortunate Van Baerle, forgotten in his cell in the fortress
of Loewestein, suffered at the hands of Gryphus all that a prisoner can
suffer when his jailer has formed the determination of playing the part
of hangman.

Gryphus, not having received any tidings of Rosa or of Jacob, persuaded
himself that all that had happened was the devil's work, and that Dr.
Cornelius van Baerle had been sent on earth by Satan.

The result of it was, that, one fine morning, the third after the
disappearance of Jacob and Rosa, he went up to the cell of Cornelius in
even a greater rage than usual.

The latter, leaning with his elbows on the window-sill and supporting
his head with his two hands, whilst his eyes wandered over the distant
hazy horizon where the windmills of Dort were turning their sails, was
breathing the fresh air, in order to be able to keep down his tears and
to fortify himself in his philoso