Such were the cogitations of Cornelius three days after the sad scene
of separation from Rosa, at the moment when we find him standing at the
window.

And at that very moment Gryphus entered.

He held in his hand a huge stick, his eyes glistening with spiteful
thoughts, a malignant smile played round his lips, and the whole of
his carriage, and even all his movements, betokened bad and malicious
intentions.

Cornelius heard him enter, and guessed that it was he, but did not turn
round, as he knew well that Rosa was not coming after him.

There is nothing more galling to angry people than the coolness of those
on whom they wish to vent their spleen.

The expense being once incurred, one does not like to lose it; one's
passion is roused, and one's blood boiling, so it would be labour lost
not to have at least a nice little row.

Gryphus, therefore, on seeing that Cornelius did not stir, tried to
attract his attention by a loud--

"Umph, umph!"

Cornelius was humming between his teeth the "Hymn of Flowers,"--a sad
but very charming song,--

"We are the daughters of the secret fire Of the fire which runs through
the veins of the earth; We are the daughters of Aurora and of the dew;
We are the daughters of the air; We are the daughters of the water; But
we are, above all, the daughters of heaven."

This song, the placid melancholy of which was still heightened by its
calm and sweet melody, exasperated Gryphus.

He struck his stick on the stone pavement of the cell, and called out,--

"Halloa! my warbling gentleman, don't you hear me?"

Cornelius turned round, merely saying, "Good morning," and then began
his song again:--

"Men defile us and kill us while loving us, We hang to the earth by a
thread; This thread is our root, that is to say, our life, But we raise
on high our arms towards heaven."

"Ah, you accursed sorcerer! you are making game of me, I believe,"
roared Gryphus.

Cornelius continued:--

"For heaven is our home, Our true home, as from thence comes our soul,
As thither our soul returns,--Our soul, that is to say, our perfume."

Gryphus went up to the prisoner and said,--

"But you don't see that I have taken means to get you under, and to
force you to confess your crimes."

"Are you mad, my dear Master Gryphus?" asked Cornelius.

And, as he now for the first time observed the frenzied features, the
flashing eyes, and foaming mouth of the old jailer, he said,--

"Bless t