d the Rosa of his dreams speak of the tulip, but also
brought to him a black one in a china vase.

Cornelius then awoke, trembling with joy, and muttering,--

"Rosa, Rosa, I love you."

And as it was already day, he thought it right not to fall asleep again,
and he continued following up the line of thought in which his mind was
engaged when he awoke.

Ah! if Rosa had only conversed about the tulip, Cornelius would
have preferred her to Queen Semiramis, to Queen Cleopatra, to Queen
Elizabeth, to Queen Anne of Austria; that is to say, to the greatest or
most beautiful queens whom the world has seen.

But Rosa had forbidden it under pain of not returning; Rosa had
forbidden the least mention of the tulip for three days. That meant
seventy-two hours given to the lover to be sure; but it was seventy-two
hours stolen from the horticulturist.

There was one consolation: of the seventy-two hours during which
Rosa would not allow the tulip to be mentioned, thirty-six had passed
already; and the remaining thirty-six would pass quickly enough:
eighteen with waiting for the evening's interview, and eighteen with
rejoicing in its remembrance.

Rosa came at the same hour, and Cornelius submitted most heroically to
the pangs which the compulsory silence concerning the tulip gave him.

His fair visitor, however, was well aware that, to command on the one
point, people must yield on another; she therefore no longer drew back
her hands from the grating, and even allowed Cornelius tenderly to kiss
her beautiful golden tresses.

Poor girl! she had no idea that these playful little lovers' tricks were
much more dangerous than speaking of the tulip was; but she became aware
of the fact as she returned with a beating heart, with glowing cheeks,
dry lips, and moist eyes.

And on the following evening, after the first exchange of salutations,
she retired a step, looking at him with a glance, the expression of
which would have rejoiced his heart could he but have seen it.

"Well," she said, "she is up."

"She is up! Who? What?" asked Cornelius, who did not venture on a
belief that Rosa would, of her own accord, have abridged the term of his
probation.

"She? Well, my daughter, the tulip," said Rosa.

"What!" cried Cornelius, "you give me permission, then?"

"I do," said Rosa, with the tone of an affectionate mother who grants a
pleasure to her child.

"Ah, Rosa!" said Cornelius, putting his lips to the grating with the
hope