Черный тюльпан
The Opening of the Flower
”
“Andthatis?”
“Yourcheek,—yourfreshcheek,yoursoft,rosycheek.Oh,Rosa,giveitmeofyourownfreewill,andnotbychance.Ah!”
Theprisoner’sprayerendedinasighofecstasy;hislipsmetthoseofthemaiden,—notbychance,norbystratagem,butasSaint-Preux’swastomeetthelipsofJulieahundredyearslater.
Rosamadeherescape.
Corneliusstoodwithhisheartuponhislips,andhisfacegluedtothewicketinthedoor.
Hewasfairlychokingwithhappinessandjoy.Heopenedhiswindow,andgazedlong,withswellingheart,atthecloudlessvaultofheaven,andthemoon,whichshonelikesilveruponthetwo-foldstreamflowingfromfarbeyondthehills.Hefilledhislungswiththepure,sweetair,whilehisbraindweltuponthoughtsofhappiness,andhisheartoverflowedwithgratitudeandreligiousfervour.
“OhThouartalwayswatchingfromonhigh,myGod,”hecried,halfprostrate,hisglowingeyesfixeduponthestars:“forgivemethatIalmostdoubtedThyexistenceduringtheselatterdays,forThoudidsthideThyfacebehindtheclouds,andwertforamomentlosttomysight,OThoumercifulGod,ThoupityingFathereverlasting!Butto-day,thisevening,andto-night,againIseeTheeinallThywondrousgloryinthemirrorofThyheavenlyabode,andmoreclearlystillinthemirrorofmygratefulheart.”
Hewaswellagain,thepoorinvalid;thewretchedcaptivewasfreeoncemore.
DuringpartofthenightCornelius,withhisheartfullofjoyanddelight,remainedathiswindow,gazingatthestars,andlisteningforeverysound.
