life.

Rosa was vexed with him, and with good reason. Perhaps she would never
return to see the prisoner, and then he would have no more news, either
of Rosa or of his tulips.

We have to confess, to the disgrace of our hero and of floriculture,
that of his two affections he felt most strongly inclined to regret the
loss of Rosa; and when, at about three in the morning, he fell asleep
overcome with fatigue, and harassed with remorse, the grand black tulip
yielded precedence in his dreams to the sweet blue eyes of the fair maid
of Friesland.

Chapter 19. The Maid and the Flower

But poor Rosa, in her secluded chamber, could not have known of whom or
of what Cornelius was dreaming.

From what he had said she was more ready to believe that he dreamed of
the black tulip than of her; and yet Rosa was mistaken.

But as there was no one to tell her so, and as the words of Cornelius's
thoughtless speech had fallen upon her heart like drops of poison, she
did not dream, but she wept.

The fact was, that, as Rosa was a high-spirited creature, of no mean
perception and a noble heart, she took a very clear and judicious view
of her own social position, if not of her moral and physical qualities.

Cornelius was a scholar, and was wealthy,--at least he had been
before the confiscation of his property; Cornelius belonged to the
merchant-bourgeoisie, who were prouder of their richly emblazoned
shop signs than the hereditary nobility of their heraldic bearings.
Therefore, although he might find Rosa a pleasant companion for the
dreary hours of his captivity, when it came to a question of bestowing
his heart it was almost certain that he would bestow it upon a
tulip,--that is to say, upon the proudest and noblest of flowers, rather
than upon poor Rosa, the jailer's lowly child.

Thus Rosa understood Cornelius's preference of the tulip to herself, but
was only so much the more unhappy therefor.

During the whole of this terrible night the poor girl did not close an
eye, and before she rose in the morning she had come to the resolution
of making her appearance at the grated window no more.

But as she knew with what ardent desire Cornelius looked forward to the
news about his tulip; and as, notwithstanding her determination not to
see any more a man her pity for whose fate was fast growing into love,
she did not, on the other hand, wish to drive him to despair, she
resolved to continue by herself the reading and writ