“Cornelius! the tulip——”
“Well?”
“How shall I tell you?”
“Speak, speak, Rosa!”
“Some one has taken—stolen it from us.”
“Stolen—taken?” said Cornelius.
“Yes,” said Rosa, leaning against the door to support herself; “yes, taken, stolen!”
And saying this, she felt her limbs failing her, and she fell on her knees.
“But how? Tell me, explain to me.”
“Oh, it is not my fault, my friend.”