been to
procure me a place among the curiosities of Holland.
"But no; and it is much better so. Some fine day Gryphus
will
commit some atrocity. I am losing my
patience, since I
have lost the joy and company of Rosa, and especially since
I have lost my tulip. Undoubtedly, some day or other Gryphus
will attack me in a manner
painful to my self-respect, or to
my love, or even
threaten my personal safety. I don't know
how it is, but since my
imprisonment I feel a strange and
almost
irresistible pugnacity. Well, I shall get at the
throat of that old
villain, and strangle him."
Cornelius at these words stopped for a moment,
biting his
lips and staring out before him; then,
eagerly returning to
an idea which seemed to possess a strange
fascination for
him, he continued, --
"Well, and once having strangled him, why should I not take
his keys from him, why not go down the stairs as if I had
done the most
virtuous action, why not go and fetch Rosa
from her room, why not tell her all, and jump from her
window into the Waal? I am
expert enough as a
swimmer to
save both of us. Rosa, -- but, oh Heaven, Gryphus is her
father! Whatever may be her
affection for me, she will never
approve of my having strangled her father,
brutal and
malicious as he has been.
"I shall have to enter into an
argument with her; and in the
midst of my speech some
wretched turnkey who has found
Gryphus with the death-rattle in his
throat, or perhaps
actually dead, will come along and put his hand on my
shoulder. Then I shall see the Buytenhof again, and the
gleam of that
infernal sword, -- which will not stop
half-way a second time, but will make
acquaintance with the
nape of my neck.
"It will not do, Cornelius, my fine fellow, -- it is a bad
plan. But, then, what is to become of me, and how shall I
find Rosa again?"
Such were the cogitations of Cornelius three days after the
sad scene of
separation from Rosa, at the moment when we
find him
standing at the window.
And at that very moment Gryphus entered.
He held in his hand a huge stick, his eyes glistening with
spiteful thoughts, a
malignant smile played round his lips,
and the whole of his
carriage, and even all his movements,
betokened bad and
malicious intentions.
Cornelius heard him enter, and guessed that it was he, but
did not turn round, as he knew well that Rosa was not coming
after him.
There is nothing more galling to angry people than the
coolness of those on whom they wish to vent their spleen.
The expense being once incurred, one does not like to lose
it; one's
passion is roused, and one's blood boiling, so it
would be labour lost not to have at least a nice little row.
Gryphus,
therefore, on
seeing that Cornelius did not stir,
tried to attract his attention by a loud --
"Umph, umph!"
Cornelius was humming between his teeth the "Hymn of
Flowers," -- a sad but very
charming song, --
"We are the daughters of the secret fire
Of the fire which runs through the veins of the earth;
We are the daughters of Aurora and of the dew;
We are the daughters of the air;
We are the daughters of the water;
But we are, above all, the daughters of heaven."
This song, the
placidmelancholy of which was still
heightened by its calm and sweet
melody, exasperated Gryphus.
He struck his stick on the stone
pavement of the cell,
and called out, --
"Halloa! my warbling gentleman, don't you hear me?"
Cornelius turned round, merely
saying, "Good morning," and
then began his song again: --
"Men
defile us and kill us while
loving us,
We hang to the earth by a thread;
This thread is our root, that is to say, our life,
But we raise on high our arms towards heaven."
"Ah, you
accursed sorcerer! you are making game of me, I