"Why, then," said Cornelius, "the pigeons which a merciful Father in
Heaven has lent to me."

"So, here we have a breach of the rules already," replied Gryphus.
"Pigeons! ah, young man, young man! I'll tell you one thing, that before
to-morrow is over, your pigeons will boil in my pot."

"First of all you should catch them, Master Gryphus. You won't allow
these pigeons to be mine! Well, I vow they are even less yours than
mine."

"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He had scarcely withdrawn, when Cornelius went to the door to listen to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