Rosa, trembling, pale and terrified, expected to be invited in her turn to see the tulip. She now heard the voice of Boxtel. “It is he!” she exclaimed. The Prince made her a sign to go and look through the open door into the drawing-room. “It is my tulip,” cried Rosa, “I recognise it. Oh, my poor Cornelius!” And saying this she burst into tears. The Prince rose from his seat, went to the door, where he stood for some time with the full light falling upon his figure. As Rosa’s eyes now rested upon him, she felt more than ever convinced that this was not the first time she had seen the stranger. “Master Boxtel,” said the Prince, “come in here, if you please.” Boxtel eagerly approached, and, finding himself face to face with William of Orange, started back. “His Highness!” he called out. “His Highness!” Rosa repeated in dismay. Hearing this exclamation on his left, Boxtel turned round, and perceived Rosa. At this sight the whole frame of the thief shook as if under the influence of a galvanic shock. “Ah!” muttered the Prince to himself, “he is confused.” But Boxtel, making a violent effort to control his feelings, was already himself again. “Master Boxtel,” said William, “you seem to have discovered the secret of growing the black tulip?” “Yes, your Highness,” answered Boxtel, in a voice which still betrayed some confusion. It is true his agitation might have been attributable to the emotion which the man must have felt on suddenly recognising the Prince. “But,” continued the Stadtholder, “here is a young damsel who also pretends to have found it.” Boxtel, with a disdainful smile, shrugged his shoulders. William watched all his movements with evident interest and curiosity. “Then you don’t know this young girl?” said the Prince. “No, your Highness!” “And you, child, do you know Master Boxtel?” “No, I don’t know Master Boxtel, but I know Master Jacob.” “What do you mean?” “I mean to say that at Loewestein the man who here calls himself Isaac Boxtel went by the name of Master Jacob.” “What do you say to that, Master Boxtel?” “I say that this damsel lies, your Highness.” “You deny, therefore, having ever been at Loewestein?” Boxtel hesitated; the fixed and searching glance of the proud eye of the Prince prevented him from lying. “I cannot deny having been at Loewestein, your Highness, but I deny having stolen the tulip.” “You have stolen it, and that from my room,” cried Rosa, with indignation. “I deny it.” “Now listen to me. Do you deny having followed me into the garden, on the day when I prepared the border where I was to plant it? Do you deny having followed me into the garden when I pretended to plant it? Do you deny that, on that evening, you rushed after my departure to the spot where you hoped to find the bulb? Do you deny having dug in the ground with your hands--but, thank God! in vain, as it was a stratagem to discover your intentions. Say, do you deny all this?”