“And what did Jacob say or do at these words?” asked Cornelius.
“At these words, if I must say it, his eyes seemed to flash like lightning.”
“But,” said Cornelius, “that was not all; I am sure he said something in his turn.”
“‘So, then, my pretty Rosa,’ he said, with a voice as sweet a honey,—‘so you think that bulb to have been a precious one?’
“I saw that I had made a blunder.
“‘What do I know?’ I said, negligently; ‘do I understand anything of tulips? I only know—as unfortunately it is our lot to live with prisoners—that for them any pastime is of value. This poor Mynheer van Baerle amused himself with this bulb. Well, I think it very cruel to take from him the only thing that he could have amused himself with.’
“‘But, first of all,’ said my father, ‘we ought to know how he has contrived to procure this bulb.’
“I turned my eyes away to avoid my father’s look; but I met those of Jacob.
“It was as if he had tried to read my thoughts at the bottom of my heart.
“Some little show of anger sometimes saves an answer. I shrugged my shoulders, turned my back, and advanced towards the door.