“You, too, have been unhappy, Rosa? I thank you a thousand times for this kind confession.”
“Well, on the day after that unfortunate one, I went down into the garden, and proceeded towards the border, where I was to plant your tulip, looking round all the while to see whether I was again followed as I was last time.”
“And then?” Cornelius asked.
“And then the same shadow glided between the gate and the wall, and once more disappeared behind the elder-trees.”
“You feigned not to see him, didn’t you?” Cornelius asked, remembering all the details of the advice which he had given to Rosa.
“Yes, and I stooped over the border, in which I dug with a spade, as if I was going to put the bulb in.”
“And he—what did he do during all this time?”
“I saw his eyes glisten through the branches of the tree, like those of a tiger.”
“There you see, there you see!” cried Cornelius.
“Then, after having finished my make-believe work, I retired.”
“But only behind the garden-door, I dare say, so that you might see through the keyhole what he was going to do when you had left?”
“He waited for a moment, very likely to make sure of my not coming back; after which he sneaked forth from his hiding-place, and approached the border by a long roundabout; at last, having reached his goal, that is to say, the spot where the ground was newly turned, he stopped with a careless air, looking about in all directions, and scanning every corner of the garden, every window of the neighbouring houses, and even the sky; after which, thinking himself quite alone, quite isolated, and out of everybody’s sight, he pounced upon
