At this solemn moment, and whilst the cheers still resounded, a carriage was driving along the road on the outskirts of the green on which the scene occurred; it pursued its way slowly, on account of the flocks of children who were pushed out of the avenue by the crowd of men and women.
This carriage, covered with dust, and creaking on its axles, the result of a long journey, enclosed the unfortunate Van Baerle, who was just beginning to get a glimpse through the open window of the scene which we have tried--with poor success, no doubt--to present to the eyes of the reader.
The crowd and the noise and the display of artificial and natural magnificence were as dazzling to the prisoner as a ray of light flashing suddenly into his dungeon.
Notwithstanding the little readiness which his companion had shown in answering his questions concerning his fate, he ventured once more to ask the meaning of all this bustle, which at first sight seemed to be utterly disconnected with his own affairs.
"What is all this, pray, Mynheer Lieutenant?" he asked of his conductor.
"As you may see, sir," replied the officer, "it is a feast."
"Ah, a feast," said Cornelius, in the sad tone of indifference of a man to whom no joy remains in this world.
Then, after some moments, silence, during which the carriage had proceeded a few yards, he asked once more,-"The feast of the patron saint of Haarlem? as I see so many flowers."
"It is, indeed, a feast in which flowers play a principal part."
"Oh, the sweet scents! oh, the beautiful colours!" cried Cornelius.
"Stop, that the gentleman may see," said the officer, with that frank kindliness which is peculiar to military men, to the soldier who was acting as postilion.
"Oh, thank you, Sir, for your kindness," replied Van Baerle, in a melancholy tone; "the joy of others pains me; please spare me this pang."
"Just as you wish. Drive on! I ordered the driver to stop because I thought it would please you, as you are said to love flowers, and especially that the feast of which is celebrated to-day."
"And what flower is that?"
"The tulip."
"The tulip!" cried Van Baerle, "is to-day the feast of tulips?"
"Yes, sir; but as this spectacle displeases you, let us drive on."
The officer was about to give the order to proceed, but Cornelius stopped him, a painful thought having struck him. He asked, with faltering voice,-"Is the prize given to-day, sir?"
"Yes, the prize for the black tulip."
Cornelius's cheek flushed, his whole frame trembled, and the cold sweat stood on his brow.