“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.”