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 of touching a cheek, a hand, a forehead,--anything, in short.
He touched something much better,--two warm and half open lips.
Rosa uttered a slight scream.
Cornelius understood that he must make haste to continue the conversation. He guessed that this unexpected kiss had frightened Rosa.
"Is it growing up straight?"
"Straight as a rocket," said Rosa.
"How high?"
"At least two inches."
"Oh, Rosa, take good care of it, and we shall soon see it grow quickly."
"Can I take more care of it?" said she. "Indeed, I think of nothing else but the tulip."
"Of nothing else, Rosa? Why, now I shall grow jealous in my turn."
"Oh, you know that to think of the tulip is to think of you; I never lose sight of it. I see it from my bed, on awaking it is the first object that meets my eyes, and on falling asleep the last on which they rest. During the day I sit and work by its side, for I have never left my chamber since I put it there."