Cornelius took the letter, and read, in a handwriting which was much
improved even since the last little note he had received from Rosa, as
follows:--

"Mynheer President,--The black tulip is about to open, perhaps in ten
minutes. As soon as it is open, I shall send a messenger to you, with
the request that you will come and fetch it in person from the fortress
at Loewestein. I am the daughter of the jailer, Gryphus, almost as much
of a captive as the prisoners of my father. I cannot, therefore, bring
to you this wonderful flower. This is the reason why I beg you to come
and fetch it yourself.

"It is my wish that it should be called Rosa Barlaensis.

"It has opened; it is perfectly black; come, Mynheer President, come.

"I have the honour to be your humble servant,

"Rosa Gryphus.

"That's it, dear Rosa, that's it. Your letter is admirable! I could not
have written it with such beautiful simplicity. You will give to the
committee all the information that will be required of you. They will
then know how the tulip has been grown, how much care and anxiety, and
how many sleepless nights, it has cost. But for the present not a minute
must be lost. The messenger! the messenger!"

"What's the name of the President?"

"Give me the letter, I will direct it. Oh, he is very well known: it is
Mynheer van Systens, the burgomaster of Haarlem; give it to me, Rosa,
give it to me."

And with a trembling hand Cornelius wrote the address,--

"To Mynheer Peter van Systens, Burgomaster, and President of the
Horticultural Society of Haarlem."

"And now, Rosa, go, go," said Cornelius, "and let us implore the
protection of God, who has so kindly watched over us until now."

Chapter 23. The Rival

And in fact the poor young people were in great need of protection.

They had never been so near the destruction of their hopes as at this
moment, when they thought themselves certain of their fulfilment.

The reader cannot but have recognized in Jacob our old friend, or rather
enemy, Isaac Boxtel, and has guessed, no doubt, that this worthy had
followed from the Buytenhof to Loewestein the object of his love and the
object of his hatred,--the black tulip and Cornelius van Baerle.

What no one but a tulip-fancier, and an envious tulip-fancier, could
have discovered,--the existence of the bulbs and the endeavours of the
prisoner,--jealousy had enabled Boxtel, if not to discover, at least to
guess.

We have seen him, m