The Second Bulb

           Thenightwasahappyone,andthewholeofthenextdayhappierstill.

           Duringthelastfewdays,theprisonhadbeenheavy,dark,andlowering,asitwere,withallitsweightontheunfortunatecaptive.Itswallswereblack,itsairchilling,theironbarsseemedtoexcludeeveryrayoflight.

           ButwhenCorneliusawokenextmorning,abeamofthemorningsunwasplayingaboutthoseironbars;pigeonswerehoveringaboutwithoutspreadwings,whilstotherswerelovinglycooingontheroofornearthestillclosedwindow.

           Corneliusrantothatwindowandopenedit;itseemedtohimasifnewlife,andjoy,andlibertyitselfwereenteringwiththissunbeamintohiscell,which,sodrearyoflate,wasnowcheeredandirradiatedbythelightoflove.

           WhenGryphus,therefore,cametoseehisprisonerinthemorning,henolongerfoundhimmoroseandlyinginbed,butstandingatthewindow,andsingingalittleditty.

           “Halloa!”exclaimedthejailer.

           “Howareyouthismorning?”askedCornelius.

           Gryphuslookedathimwithascowl.

           “Andhowisthedog,andMasterJacob,andourprettyRosa?”

           Gryphusgroundhisteeth,saying—

           “Hereisyourbreakfast.”

           “Thankyou,friendCerberus,”saidtheprisoner;“youarejustintime;Iamveryhungry.”

           “Oh!youarehungry,areyou?”saidGryphus.

           “Andwhynot?”askedVanBaerle.

           “Theconspiracyseemstothrive,”remarkedGryphus.

           “Whatconspiracy?”

           “Verywell,IknowwhatIknow,MasterScholar;justbequiet,weshallbeonourguard.