Cornelius saw nothing but the golden brocade cap, tipped with lace, such as the Frisian girls wore; he heard nothing but some one whispering into the ear of the turnkey. But the latter put his heavy keys into the white hand which was stretched out to receive them, and, descending some steps, sat down on the staircase which was thus guarded above by himself, and below by the dog. The head-dress turned round, and Cornelius beheld the face of Rosa, blanched with grief, and her beautiful eyes streaming with tears. She went up to Cornelius, crossing her arms on her heaving breast. “Oh, sir, sir!” she said, but sobs choked her utterance. “My good girl,” Cornelius replied with emotion, “what do you wish? I may tell you that my time on earth is short.” “I come to ask a favour of you,” said Rosa, extending her arms partly towards him and partly towards heaven. “Don’t weep so, Rosa,” said the prisoner, “for your tears go much more to my heart than my approaching fate, and you know, the less guilty a prisoner is, the more it is his duty to die calmly, and even joyfully, as he dies a martyr. Come, there’s a dear, don’t cry any more, and tell me what you want, my pretty Rosa.” She fell on her knees. “Forgive my father,” she said. “Your father, your father!” said Cornelius, astonished. “Yes, he has been so harsh to you; but it is his nature, he is so to every one, and you are not the only one whom he has bullied.” “He is punished, my dear Rosa, more than punished, by the accident that has befallen him, and I forgive him.” “I thank you, sir,” said Rosa. “And now tell me--oh, tell me--can I do anything for you?” “You can dry your beautiful eyes, my dear child,” answered Cornelius, with a good-tempered smile. “But what can I do for you,--for you I mean?” “A man who has only one hour longer to live must be a great Sybarite still to want anything, my dear Rosa.” “The clergyman whom they have proposed to you?” “I have worshipped God all my life, I have worshipped Him in His works, and praised Him in His decrees. I am at peace with Him and do not wish for a clergyman. The last thought which occupies my mind, however has reference to the glory of the Almighty, and, indeed, my dear, I should ask you to help me in carrying out this last thought.” “Oh, Mynheer Cornelius, speak, speak!” exclaimed Rosa, still bathed in tears. “Give me your hand, and promise me not to laugh, my dear child.” “Laugh,” exclaimed Rosa, frantic with grief, “laugh at this moment! do you not see my tears?” “Rosa, you are no stranger to me. I have not seen much of you, but that little is enough to make me appreciate your character. I have never seen a woman more fair or more pure than you are, and if from this moment I take no more notice of you, forgive me; it is only because, on leaving this world, I do not wish to have any further regret.”