erstood the intense grief of the
unfortunate tulip-fancier, and who, with the pure sacred love of her
innocent heart, poured these kind words, like a drop of balm, on the
bleeding wounds of Cornelius.

Chapter 18. Rosa's Lover

Rosa had scarcely pronounced these consolatory words when a voice was
heard from the staircase asking Gryphus how matters were going on.

"Do you hear, father?" said Rosa.

"What?"

"Master Jacob calls you, he is uneasy."

"There was such a noise," said Gryphus; "wouldn't you have thought he
would murder me, this doctor? They are always very troublesome fellows,
these scholars."

Then, pointing with his finger towards the staircase, he said to Rosa:
"Just lead the way, Miss."

After this he locked the door and called out: "I shall be with you
directly, friend Jacob."

Poor Cornelius, thus left alone with his bitter grief, muttered to
himself,--

"Ah, you old hangman! it is me you have trodden under foot; you have
murdered me; I shall not survive it."

And certainly the unfortunate prisoner would have fallen ill but for the
counterpoise which Providence had granted to his grief, and which was
called Rosa.

In the evening she came back. Her first words announced to Cornelius
that henceforth her father would make no objection to his cultivating
flowers.

"And how do you know that?" the prisoner asked, with a doleful look.

"I know it because he has said so."

"To deceive me, perhaps."

"No, he repents."

"Ah yes! but too late."

"This repentance is not of himself."

"And who put it into him?"

"If you only knew how his friend scolded him!"

"Ah, Master Jacob; he does not leave you, then, that Master Jacob?"

"At any rate, he leaves us as little as he can help."

Saying this, she smiled in such a way that the little cloud of jealousy
which had darkened the brow of Cornelius speedily vanished.

"How was it?" asked the prisoner.

"Well, being asked by his friend, my father told at supper the whole
story of the tulip, or rather of the bulb, and of his own fine exploit
of crushing it."

Cornelius heaved a sigh, which might have been called a groan.

"Had you only seen Master Jacob at that moment!" continued Rosa. "I
really thought he would set fire to the castle; his eyes were like two
flaming torches, his hair stood on end, and he clinched his fist for a
moment; I thought he would have strangled my father."

"'You have done that,' he cried, 'you have crushe