Just then a jailer entered, "Ho, ho!" he said, "how did you come by
that; it will just do for my button-hole." And he seized the
water-lily and placed it in his coat.
The poor prisoner fell upon his knees and begged hard that the flower
might be left to him. "Let me have a few days' joy," he pleaded. "The
flower will soon die, and you are free, and can gather the flowers when
you will."
But the rough jailer only laughed, and departed to his own pleasant
room, leaving the captive in tears.
[Illustration: Child with basket of flowers]
"Look here," said the jailer to his little daughter, "there is a flower
I have just taken away from the prisoner in the tower. I don't know
how he got it, but he cried like a baby when I took it away."
"Poor prisoner!" said the little girl, with tears in her own eyes.
"Nay, my little maid, do not weep," said the jailer, taking the child
in his arms.
But the little one hid her face against her father's breast and sobbed.
"See, my Lily, I will take his flower back to him, only do not cry so,"
said the jailer.
"Father, may I take it to him?" said the little girl, raising her
tear-stained face to her father's, and gazing at him eagerly.
"Won't it do if I take it?" asked the jailer.
"Oh, _please_ let me take it," said the child.
The rough jailer had such tenderness for his child that it was
difficult for him to refuse her anything. So it was that when the
prisoner lifted his weary head as he heard his door open, he beheld a
beautiful child with blue eyes and yellow hair, and in her hand
stretched out to him was the water-lily.
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