he had
broken, and which Cornelius van Baerle had set so well, grasped at once
in the midst of the jug, on the spot where the bulb was lying in the
soil.

"What have you got here?" he roared. "Ah! have I caught you?" and with
this he grabbed in the soil.

"I? nothing, nothing," cried Cornelius, trembling.

"Ah! have I caught you? a jug and earth in it There is some criminal
secret at the bottom of all this."

"Oh, my good Master Gryphus," said Van Baerle, imploringly, and anxious
as the partridge robbed of her young by the reaper.

In fact, Gryphus was beginning to dig the soil with his crooked fingers.

"Take care, sir, take care," said Cornelius, growing quite pale.

"Care of what? Zounds! of what?" roared the jailer.

"Take care, I say, you will crush it, Master Gryphus."

And with a rapid and almost frantic movement he snatched the jug from
the hands of Gryphus, and hid it like a treasure under his arms.

But Gryphus, obstinate, like an old man, and more and more convinced
that he was discovering here a conspiracy against the Prince of Orange,
rushed up to his prisoner, raising his stick; seeing, however, the
impassible resolution of the captive to protect his flower-pot he was
convinced that Cornelius trembled much less for his head than for his
jug.

He therefore tried to wrest it from him by force.

"Halloa!" said the jailer, furious, "here, you see, you are rebelling."

"Leave me my tulip," cried Van Baerle.

"Ah, yes, tulip," replied the old man, "we know well the shifts of
prisoners."

"But I vow to you----"

"Let go," repeated Gryphus, stamping his foot, "let go, or I shall call
the guard."

"Call whoever you like, but you shall not have this flower except with
my life."

Gryphus, exasperated, plunged his finger a second time into the soil,
and now he drew out the bulb, which certainly looked quite black; and
whilst Van Baerle, quite happy to have saved the vessel, did not suspect
that the adversary had possessed himself of its precious contents,
Gryphus hurled the softened bulb with all his force on the flags, where
almost immediately after it was crushed to atoms under his heavy shoe.

Van Baerle saw the work of destruction, got a glimpse of the juicy
remains of his darling bulb, and, guessing the cause of the ferocious
joy of Gryphus, uttered a cry of agony, which would have melted
the heart even of that ruthless jailer who some years before killed
Pelisson's spider.

The idea of