“Omittance is no acquittance,” growled the jailer, “and I shall certainly wring their necks before twenty-four hours are over: you may be sure of that.” Whilst giving utterance to this ill-natured promise, Gryphus put his head out of the window to examine the nest. This gave Van Baerle time to run to the door, and squeeze the hand of Rosa, who whispered to him,-- “At nine o’clock this evening.” Gryphus, quite taken up with the desire of catching the pigeons next day, as he had promised he would do, saw and heard nothing of this short interlude; and, after having closed the window, he took the arm of his daughter, left the cell, turned the key twice, drew the bolts, and went off to make the same kind promise to the other prisoners. He had scarcely withdrawn, when Cornelius went to the door to listen to the sound of his footsteps, and, as soon as they had died away, he ran to the window, and completely demolished the nest of the pigeons. Rather than expose them to the tender mercies of his bullying jailer, he drove away for ever those gentle messengers to whom he owed the happiness of having seen Rosa again. This visit of the jailer, his brutal threats, and the gloomy prospect of the harshness with which, as he had before experienced, Gryphus watched his prisoners,--all this was unable to extinguish in Cornelius the sweet thoughts, and especially the sweet hope, which the presence of Rosa had reawakened in his heart. He waited eagerly to hear the clock of the tower of Loewestein strike nine. The last chime was still vibrating through the air, when Cornelius heard on the staircase the light step and the rustle of the flowing dress of the fair Frisian maid, and soon after a light appeared at the little grated window in the door, on which the prisoner fixed his earnest gaze. The shutter opened on the outside. “Here I am,” said Rosa, out of breath from running up the stairs, “here I am.” “Oh, my good Rosa.” “You are then glad to see me?” “Can you ask? But how did you contrive to get here? tell me.” “Now listen to me. My father falls asleep every evening almost immediately after his supper; I then make him lie down, a little stupefied with his gin. Don’t say anything about it, because, thanks to this nap, I shall be able to come every evening and chat for an hour with you.” “Oh, I thank you, Rosa, dear Rosa.” Saying these words, Cornelius put his face so near the little window that Rosa withdrew hers. “I have brought back to you your bulbs.” Cornelius’s heart leaped with joy. He had not yet dared to ask Rosa what she had done with the precious treasure which he had intrusted to her. “Oh, you have preserved them, then?” “Did you not give them to me as a thing which was dear to you?” “Yes, but as I have given them to you, it seems to me that they belong to you.”