Gryphus stepped towards the window.
It was still light enough to see, although indistinctly, through the grey haze of the evening, the vast expanse of the horizon.
“What view has one from here?” asked Gryphus.
“Why, a very fine and pleasant one,” said Cornelius, looking at Rosa.
“Yes, yes, too much of a view, too much.”
And at this moment the two pigeons, scared by the sight, and especially by the voice of the stranger, left their nest, and disappeared, quite frightened, in the evening mist.
“Halloa! what’s this?” cried Gryphus.
“My pigeons,” answered Cornelius.
“Your pigeons,” cried the jailor, “your pigeons! has a prisoner anything of his own?”
“Why, then,” said Cornelius,“the pigeons which a merciful Father in Heaven has lent to me.”
“So, here we have a breach of the rules already,” replied Gryphus. “Pigeons! ah, young man, young man; I’ll tell you one thing, that before to-morrow is over your pigeons will boil in my pot.”
“First of all you should catch them, Master Gryphus. You won’t allow these pigeons to be mine. Well, I vow they are even less yours than mine.”
“Omittance is no acquittance,” growled the jailor, “and I shall certainly wring their necks before twenty-four hours are over; you may be sure of that.”
“Whilst giving utterance to this ill-natured promise, Gryphus put his head out of the window to examine the nest. This gave Van Baerle time to run to the door, and squeeze the hand of Rosa, who whispered to him,—
“At nine o’clock this evening.”
Gryphus, quite taken up with the desire of catching the pigeons next day, as he had promised he would do,
