“Don’t talk in that way, you naughty girl.”
That evening Cornelius was one of the happiest of men. Rosa allowed him to press her hand in his, and to keep it as long as he would, besides which he might talk of his tulip as much as he liked.
From that hour, every day marked some progress in the growth of the tulip and in the affection of the two young people.
At one time it was that the leaves had expanded, and at another that the flower itself had formed.
Great was the joy of Cornelius at this news, and his questions succeeded each other with a rapidity which gave proof of their importance.
“Formed!” exclaimed Cornelius, “is it really formed?”
“It is,” repeated Rosa.
Cornelius trembled with joy, so much so that lie was obliged to hold by the grating.
“Good Heavens!” he exclaimed.
Then turning again to Rosa, he continued his questions.
“Is the oval regular? the cylinder full? and are the points very green?”
“The oval is almost one inch long, and tapers like a needle, the cylinder swells at the sides, and the points are ready to open.”
Two days after Rosa, announced that they were open.
“Open, Rosa!” cried Cornelius. “Is the involucrum open? but then one may see, and already distinguish”
Here the prisoner paused, anxiously taking breatlı.
“Yes,” answered Rosa, “one may already distinguish a thread of different colour, as thin as a hair.”
“And its colour?” asked Cornelius, trembling.
