“Did you not tell me yourself of what you apprehended from your lover Jacob? People will steal one guilder, why not a hundred thousand?” “I shall watch; be quiet.” “But if it opened whilst you were here?” “The whimsical little thing would indeed be quite capable of playing such a trick,” said Rosa. “And if on your return you find it open?” “Well?” “Oh, Rosa, whenever it opens, remember that not a moment must be lost in apprising the President.” “And in apprising you. Yes, I understand.” Rosa sighed, yet without any bitter feeling, but rather like a woman who begins to understand a foible, and to accustom herself to it. “I return to your tulip, Mynheer van Baerle, and as soon as it opens I will give you news, which being done the messenger will set out immediately.” “Rosa, Rosa, I don’t know to what wonder under the sun I shall compare you.” “Compare me to the black tulip, and I promise you I shall feel very much flattered. Good night, then, till we meet again, Mynheer Cornelius.” “Oh, say ‘Good night, my friend.’” “Good night, my friend,” said Rosa, a little consoled. “Say, ‘My very dear friend.’” “Oh, my friend--” “Very dear friend, I entreat you, say ‘very dear,’ Rosa, very dear.” “Very dear, yes, very dear,” said Rosa, with a beating heart, beyond herself with happiness. “And now that you have said ‘very dear,’ dear Rosa, say also ‘most happy’: say ‘happier and more blessed than ever man was under the sun.’ I only lack one thing, Rosa.” “And that is?” “Your cheek,--your fresh cheek, your soft, rosy cheek. Oh, Rosa, give it me of your own free will, and not by chance. Ah!” The prisoner’s prayer ended in a sigh of ecstasy; his lips met those of the maiden,--not by chance, nor by stratagem, but as Saint-Preux’s was to meet the lips of Julie a hundred years later. Rosa made her escape. Cornelius stood with his heart upon his lips, and his face glued to the wicket in the door. He was fairly choking with happiness and joy. He opened his window, and gazed long, with swelling heart, at the cloudless vault of heaven, and the moon, which shone like silver upon the two-fold stream flowing from far beyond the hills. He filled his lungs with the pure, sweet air, while his brain dwelt upon thoughts of happiness, and his heart overflowed with gratitude and religious fervour. “Oh Thou art always watching from on high, my God,” he cried, half prostrate, his glowing eyes fixed upon the stars: “forgive me that I almost doubted Thy existence during these latter days, for Thou didst hide Thy face behind the clouds, and wert for a moment lost to my sight, O Thou merciful God, Thou pitying Father everlasting! But to-day, this evening, and to-night, again I see Thee in all Thy wondrous glory in the mirror of Thy heavenly abode, and more clearly still in the mirror of my grateful heart.” He was well again, the poor invalid; the wretched captive was free once more.