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Page 77
"Oh, so!" Gryphus said, in a tone of triumph; "now there we
have it. It was not your tulip you cared for. There was in
that false bulb some witchcraft, perhaps some means of
correspondence with conspirators against his Highness who
has granted you your life. I always said they were wrong in
not cutting your head off."
"Father, father!" cried Rosa.
"Yes, yes! it is better as it is now," repeated Gryphus,
growing warm; "I have destroyed it, and I'll do the same
again, as often as you repeat the trick. Didn't I tell you,
my fine fellow, that I would make your life a hard one?"
"A curse on you!" Cornelius exclaimed, quite beyond himself
with despair, as he gathered, with his trembling fingers,
the remnants of that bulb on which he had rested so many
joys and so many hopes.
"We shall plant the other to-morrow, my dear Mynheer
Cornelius," said Rosa, in a low voice, who understood 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."
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