terview, the following day as the time for that momentous operation. The weather was propitious; the air, although still damp, began to be tempered by those pale rays of the April sun which, being the first, appear so congenial, although so pale. How, if Rosa allowed the right moment for planting the bulb to pass by? If, in addition to the grief of seeing her no more, he should have to deplore the misfortune of seeing his tulip fail on account of its having been planted too late, or of its not having been planted at all!
These two vexations, combined, might well make him leave off eating and drinking.
This was the case on the fourth day.
It was pitiful to see Cornelius, dumb with grief, and pale from utter prostration, stretch out his head through the iron bars of his window, at the risk of not being able to draw it back again, to try and get a glimpse of the garden on the left, spoken of by Rosa, who had told him that its parapet overlooked the river. He hoped, that perhaps he might see, in the light of the April sun, Rosa, or the tulip, the two lost objects of his love.
In the evening, Gryphus took away the breakfast and dinner of Cornelius who had scarcely touched them.
On the following day, he did not touch them at all, and Gryphus carried the dishes away just as he had brought them.
Cornelius had remained in bed the whole day.
“Well,” said Gryphus, coming down from the last visit; “I think, we shall soon get rid of our scholar.” Rosa was startled.
“Nouscuse,” said Jacob, “what do you mean?”
“He doesn’t drink, he doesn’t eat, he doesn’t leave. his bed. He will get out of it, like Mynheer Grotius, in a chest; only the chest will be a coffin.”
Rosa grew as pale as death.
