Chapter IV: Part 4

Peregrine was nigh going mad at the loss of Doertje, but Master Flea began to console him in a tone that must have inspired the most desperate with confidence: "You are not yet quite certain, my dear Mr. Peregrine, whether the fair Doertje Elverdink has really left your house. As well as I can judge of such things, she is not far off; I seem to feel her nearness. But, if you will follow my friendly counsel, you will leave her to her fate. Trust me, she is as capricious as the wind; it may be, as you have said, that she now is really fond of you, but how long will it be before she plunges you into such misery, that you will be in danger from it of losing your reason, like the Thistle, Zeherit? I say again, give up your lonely way of life. You will be the better for it. How many women have you known, that you should take Doertje for the handsomest of her sex? What maiden have you approached with love, that you should believe that Doertje alone can love you? Go to, Peregrine; experience will show you better. You are a well-made, handsome man, and I should not be so keen-sighted, as Master Flea really is, if I could not see beforehand that love would smile upon you in a very different way from what you may expect."

Peregrine had already broken the ice by going abroad in public places, and it was therefore the less difficult for him to visit societies, from which he had formerly withdrawn himself. In this Master Flea rendered him excellent service with his microscopic glass, and he is said during this time to have kept a day-book, and to have made notes of the most remarkable and pleasant contradictions between words and thoughts, as they daily occurred to him. Perhaps the editor of this strange tale, called Master Flea, may find some future opportunity of bringing to light many worthy impartments from this same day-book; here it would only stop the current of the history, and, therefore, would not be welcome to the reader. So much, however, may be said, that many of the phrases with the corresponding thoughts seemed to be stereotyped as it were; as for example,--"Favour me with your advice;"--the thought being, "He is fool enough to think I ask his advice in a matter that I have long since resolved upon, and that tickles him." "I have the most perfect confidence in you;"--the thought being, "I knew long ago that you were a scoundrel," &c. c. It should also be mentioned that many folks mightily puzzled Peregrine with his microscopic observations. These were the young men, who fell into raptures upon every thing, and poured themselves forth in a torrent of splendid phrases. Amongst these the most remarkable were the young poets, who were boiling over with imagination and genius, and were particularly adored by the ladies. To these were associated the blue-stockings, who were as familiar with metaphysics as the less learned part of their sex with scandal, and could talk like any parson in his pulpit. If it seemed strange to Peregrine that the silver threads should twine together out of Gamaheh's brain into an undistinguishable something, he was not a little astonished at what he saw in the heads of those above mentioned. He saw indeed the strange weaving of nerves and veins, but remarked at the same time, that when the owners of them spoke most learnedly on art and science, they did not penetrate the brain, but were reflected outwards, so that all recognition of the thoughts was out of the question. He imparted his observation to Master Flea, who usually sate in a fold of his neckcloth, and Master Flea was of opinion, that what Peregrine took for thoughts were in reality none, but merely words, which in vain endeavoured to become thoughts.

If Mr. Tyss began now to amuse himself in society, his faithful companion also laid aside much of his gravity, and exhibited himself as a knavish little voluptuary, an amiable _roue_. He could not see the fair neck or the white bosom of any beauty, without slipping out of his hiding-place with the first opportunity, and springing on the inviting spot, where he very dexterously contrived to elude the attacks of pursuing fingers. This man[oe]uvre combined a double interest. In the first place, he found a pleasure in it for the thing itself; and then, he hoped, by drawing Peregrine's attention to the fair ones, to cast Doertje's image into shadow. This, however, seemed to be a fruitless labour, for none of all the ladies, whom he now approached without the least timidity, seemed to him so fair and lovely as his little princess. The great cause however of his continued constancy was, that in none he found the words and thoughts so united in his favour as with her. He was convinced that he could never leave her, and this he repeated incessantly. Master Flea was in no little alarm.

One day Peregrine remarked that the old Alina laughed very cunningly, took snuff more frequently than usual, muttered strangely, in short, acted altogether like one who is big with a secret and would fain be disburthened of it. To every thing she replied, "Yes, one can't tell that!--one must wait!" whether these words were suited to the occasion or not, till at last Peregrine, full of impatience, exclaimed, "Speak it out at once; tell me what is the matter, without creeping around me with those mysterious looks."

"Ah!" cried the old woman, clasping her withered hands together, "ah! the dear little thing! the sweet little puppet!"

"Whom do you mean?" asked Peregrine angrily.

"Ah!" said the old woman, smirking, "ah! whom should I mean but our princess, below here with Mr. Swammer,--your bride, Mr. Tyss?"

"Woman!" cried Mr. Tyss, "unlucky woman, she is here!--in the house!--and you do not tell me till now?"

"Where,"--replied the old woman, without in the least losing her composure,--"where should the princess be but here, where she has found her mother?"

"How!" cried Peregrine--"what is it you say, Alina?"

"Yes," rejoined the old woman, drawing herself up--"yes, Alina is my right name, and who knows what else may come to light, in a short time, before your nuptials?"

Peregrine entreated her, by all the angels and devils, to go on; but, without paying the least attention to his hurry, she seated herself snugly in the arm-chair, drew out her snuffbox, took a prodigious pinch, and demonstrated to Peregrine very circumstantially, that there was no worse failing than impatience.

"Calmness, my son, calmness, is above all things requisite, or otherwise you run the risk of losing all in the moment that you think you have gained it. Before you get a word out of me, you must first promise to seat yourself there, quite quietly like a pretty-behaved child, and for the life of you not to interrupt me in my story."

Nothing was left to Peregrine but to obey the old woman, who, when he had seated himself, related things that were strange enough to hear.

According to the old woman's tale, the two gentlemen, namely, Swammerdamm and Leuwenhock, had another tough struggle in the chamber, and for a time kept up a terrible clatter. Then again all had become quite still, when a heavy moaning had made her fancy that one of the two was mortally wounded; but on peeping through the keyhole she perceived something quite different from what she had expected. Swammerdamm and Leuwenhock had seized George Pepusch, and stroaked and squeezed him with their fists, so that he grew thinner and thinner; during which operation he had uttered the moans heard by the old woman. At last, when he had grown as thin as a thistle-stem, they had tried to squeeze him through the keyhole, and the poor Pepusch was hanging with half his body out, when she ran away in terror. Soon afterwards she heard a loud laughing, and saw Pepusch in his natural form, quietly led out of the house by the two magicians, while at the room-door stood Doertje and beckoned her in. The little one wished to dress herself, and needed her assistance.

The old woman could not talk enough of the great heap of clothes which the princess brought out of a variety of chests and showed to her, each of which had appeared richer than the other. She declared that none but an Indian princess could possess such jewels as the little one; her eyes still ached with the glitter. She then went on to say how, during the dressing, she had talked of this and that, of the late Mr. Tyss, on the delightful life they had formerly led in the house, and at last the conversation had fallen upon her deceased relations.

"You know, my dear Mr. Tyss, that nothing is more valued by me than my late cousin, the calico-printer's wife. She was in Maintz, and, I believe, even in the Indies, and could speak French and sing. If I owe to my cousin the unchristian name of Alina, I will forgive her that in the grave, since it is from her alone that I have learnt polite manners and the art of speaking elegantly. As I was talking much of my cousin, the little princess asked after my father, my grandfather, and so on, higher and higher up the family. I opened my heart to her, told her that my mother had been almost as handsome as myself, except that I go beyond her in regard to the nose, which I derive from my father, and which is after the shape that has been usual in the family since the memory of man. Then I came to speak of the country-wake, when I waltzed with Serjeant Drumstick, and wore the skyblue stockings with red clocks. Ah, dear God! we are all weak, sinful creatures! But oh! Mr. Tyss, you should have seen how the little princess, who at first had laughed and tittered, that it was a pleasure to hear her, now grew more and more quiet, and gazed on me with such odd looks, that I began to be terribly alarmed.--And then think, Mr. Tyss, on a sudden, before I could prevent it, she lies on her knees before me, and will positively kiss my hand, exclaiming, 'Yes, it is you! Now I recognise you! It is yourself!'--and when, quite astonished, I asked what it all meant,----"

Here the old woman stopt, and, when Peregrine pressed her to go on, she with great gravity and precision took a mighty pinch of snuff, and said,

"You'll know in good time, my son, what farther happened. Every thing has its time and hour."

He was now more urgent than ever with the old woman to proceed, when she burst out into a roaring fit of laughter; upon which he admonished her, with a very sour face, that his room was not exactly the place for her to play off such fooleries. But the old woman, planting her hands in her sides, seemed ready to burst. The burning red of her brow changed to an agreeable mahogany, and Peregrine was upon the point of flinging a glass of water into the old woman's face, when she recovered her breath and speech at the same time.

"I can't help laughing," she said, "I can't help laughing at the foolish little thing. No; such love is no longer on earth. Only think, Mr. Tyss,----"

Here she broke out into a fresh fit of laughter, and Peregrine's patience was well nigh exhausted. At last, with much difficulty, he got out of her that the little princess had taken up the whimsical notion of Mr. Tyss being positively determined to marry the old woman, and had compelled her solemnly to promise to reject his hand.

It seemed to Peregrine as if he were mixed up in a scene of witchery, and he felt so strangely, that even the honest old Alina appeared to him a supernatural kind of being, from whom he could not fly with sufficient speed. But she still detained him, having something to communicate in all haste, that concerned the little princess.

"It is now certain," she said confidentially,--"it is now certain, my dear Mr. Tyss, that the bright star of fortune has arisen, but it is your business to keep it favourable. When I protested to the little one that you were desperately smitten with her, and far from any idea of marrying me, she replied, that she could not be convinced of it and give you her hand till you had complied with a wish that had long sate near her heart. She says, that she had a pretty little negro boy in her service who had fled from her; I have, indeed, denied it, but she maintains that the boy is so little he might live in a nutshell.

"Nothing will ever come of this," exclaimed Peregrine violently, well knowing what the old woman was driving at, and rushed out of the room, and then out of the house, with great vehemence.

It is an established custom, that when the hero of a tale is under any violent agitation, he should run out into a forest, or, at least, into some lonely wood; and the custom is good, because it really prevails in life. Hence it could not be otherwise with Mr. Tyss, than that he ran from his house without stopping, till he had left the city behind him and reached a remote wood. Moreover, as in a romantic history no wood must be without rustling leaves, sighing breezes, murmuring brooks, &c. &c. it is to be supposed that Peregrine found all these things in his place of refuge. Upon a mossy stone, the lower half of which lay in a bright brook, Peregrine sate down with a firm resolution to reflect on his strange adventures, and, if possible, find the Ariadne clue which might show the way out of this labyrinth of mysteries. The murmurs of the leaves, returning at equal intervals, the monotonous babbling of the waters, the constant clap, clap of a distant mill, soon formed a ground which regulated the thoughts so that they no longer rushed wildly together without time or rhythmus, but became an intelligible melody. Thus, after sitting some time on this pleasant spot, he got to reflect calmly.

"In reality," he said to himself, "a fantastic tale-writer could not have invented wilder events than I have actually gone through in the short space of a few days. Beauty, love itself visits the lonely mysogunist, and a look, a word, is sufficient to fan, in his breast, the flames which he had dreaded without knowing them. But the time, the place, the whole appearance of the strange syren are so mysterious, that it seems to be the result of magic;--And then it is not long before a despised little insect evinces knowledge, understanding, nay, even a sort of supernatural power. And this creature talks of things, which to common minds are incomprehensible, in a way as if it all were nothing more than the familiar to-day and yesterday of usual life, as it appears repeated for the thousandth time.

"Have I come too near the fly-wheel, that dark unknown powers are driving, and has it caught me in its whirlings? Would not one believe, that the reason must be lost with such things, when they cross the path of life? And yet I find myself quite well, withal: nay, it no longer seems strange to me that a Flea-king should have sought my protection, and, in requital have entrusted me with a mystery that opens to me the secrets of thought, and thus sets me above the deceptions of life. But whither will or can all this lead? How, if under this singular mask of a flea, an evil demon lurked, who sought to lure me into destruction, who aimed to rob me of all the happiness that might bloom to me in the possession of Doertje? Were it not better to get rid at once of the little monster?"

"That was a very pitiful idea, Mr. Tyss!" exclaimed Master Flea, interrupting Peregrine's soliloquy. "Do you imagine that the mystery I have entrusted to you is a trifle? Should not this gift pass for the most decided proof of my sincere friendship? Shame on you for being suspicious! You are surprised at the reason, the mind, of a little despised insect; and that proves,--don't be offended,--the narrowness of your education in science. I wish, in regard to the thinking instinctive soul of animals, you had read the Greek Philo, or, at least, the treatise of Hieronymus Rorarius, '_quod animalia bruta ratione utantur melius homine_; or his oration '_Pro muribus_;'--or that you knew what Lipsius and the great Leibnitz thought of the mental power of beasts, or that you were aware what the profound Rabbi Maimonides has said about their souls; you would not then take me for a demon on account of my understanding, or measure the spiritual faculties by the proportions of the body. I suppose, at last, you will come to the shrewd opinion of the Spanish physician, Gomez Pereira, who could find nothing more in animals than mere artificial machines, without thought or freedom of will, moving arbitrarily and automatically. Yet, no; I cannot deem you so absurd, and am convinced that you have long ago learnt better through my humble person. Moreover, I do not well understand what you call wonders, or in what way you are able to divide, into the wonderful and natural, the appearances of our being, which, in reality, are ourselves, as we and they mutually condition each other. Do not, therefore, wonder at any thing because it has not yet occurred to you, or because you fancy you do not see the connexion of cause and effect; that only proves the natural or diseased obtuseness of your sight, which injures your perception. But,--do not take it amiss, Mr. Peregrine,--the drollest part of the business is, that you want to split yourself into two parts, one of which recognises and willingly believes the so-called wonders; the other, on the contrary, is mightily astonished at this recognition and belief. Has it ever occurred to you, that you believe in the images of dreams?"

"I!" exclaimed Peregrine--"My dear fellow, how can you talk of dreams, which are only the result of some disorder in our corporeal or intellectual structure?"

At these words Master Flea burst into a laugh, as fine as it was mocking, and then said to Mr. Tyss, who was not a little confounded,

"My poor friend, is your understanding so little enlightened, that you do not see the folly of such opinions? Since the time that Chaos melted together into plastic matter,--it may be a tolerably long time ago,--the spirit of the universe has formed all shapes out of this existing material, and from this come also dreams and their images. These images are sketches of what has been, or probably of what is yet to be, which the soul rapidly puts together for its amusement, when the tyrant, called body, has released it from its slavish servitude. But here is neither time nor place to refute you, and bring you to a better conviction; perhaps, too, it would be of no use whatever to you: one thing only I should like to explain."

"Dear master," cried Peregrine, "speak, or be silent, as you think proper; do what to you seems best; for I plainly perceive that, however small you may be, you have deep knowledge and sound understanding. You compel from me unconditional confidence, although I do not quite comprehend your figurative modes of speech."

"Learn then," resumed Master Flea, "that you are very strangely implicated in the history of the Princess Gamaheh. Swammerdamm and Leuwenhock, the Thistle, Zeherit, and the Leech-Prince, as well as the Genius, Thetel, are all striving after the princess; and even I myself must confess that, alas! my old passion is reviving, and I could be fool enough to share my sovereignty with the false fair-one. But you,--you, Mr. Peregrine, are the principal person, and, without your consent, Gamaheh can belong to no one. If you wish to understand the more particular connexion of the whole, which I myself do not know, you must speak to Leuwenhock about it; he has found it out, and will certainly let out much, if you will take the pains, and know how to question him."

Master Flea was about to continue, when a man leapt from the bushes in boiling passion, and flew upon Peregrine.

"Ha!" cried George Pepusch, with frantic gestures,--for it was he,--"Ha! faithless, treacherous friend! have I found you?--found you in the fateful hour? Up then! pierce this breast, or fall by my hand."

With this he drew a brace of pistols from his pocket, pressed one into Peregrine's hand, and took his ground with the other, crying, "Shoot, coward! shoot!"

Peregrine placed himself, but declared that nothing should induce him to the incurable madness of entering into a duel with his only friend, without even a suspicion of the cause. At all events he would in no case be the first to begin a murderous attack.

At this Pepusch burst into a wild laugh, and in the same moment the ball went through Peregrine's hat. The latter remained staring at his friend, in profound silence, without picking up the hat, which had fallen to the ground, when Pepusch advanced a few steps towards him, and murmured in a hollow voice, "shoot!"--Peregrine fired his pistol in the air.

With the voice and gestures of a madman, Pepusch now flung himself upon his friend's breast, and cried out, in heart-rending tones,--"She is dying! dying for you, unlucky one! Quick!--save her! You can do it--save her for yourself, and let me perish in my despair!"

Pepusch ran off so fast that Peregrine had lost sight of him on the instant; and now a fearful foreboding came over him, that his friend's mad behaviour must have been occasioned by something terrible which had happened to the little-one: whereupon he hastened back to the city.

On entering his house, he was met by the old woman, loudly lamenting that the poor princess was on the sudden taken violently ill, and was dying. Mr. Swammer himself had gone after the most celebrated physician in Frankfort.

With the feelings of death at his heart, he crept into Mr. Swammer's room that was opened to him by the old woman. There lay the little-one upon a sofa, pale and stiff like a corse; and it was not till he knelt down and bent over her that he perceived her gentle breathing. No sooner had he touched her icy hand, than a painful smile played about her lips, and she lisped,--

"Is it you, my sweet friend? Have you come to see her once again, who loves you so unspeakably,--who dies, alas! because she cannot breathe without you?"

Dissolving in sorrow, Peregrine poured himself forth in protestations of the tenderest love, and repeated, that nothing in the world was so dear to him that he would not sacrifice it to her. Out of words grew kisses, but in these kisses again words, like the breathings of love, were distinguishable.

"You know, my Peregrine, how much I love you. I can be yours; you, mine,--I can recover on the spot--you will see me bloom again in my youthful splendour, like a flower refreshed by the morning dew, and joyfully lifting up his drooping head--but--give me up the prisoner, my dear, beloved Peregrine, or else you will see me perish, before your eyes, in unutterable death-pangs.----Peregrine--I can no more--it is all over!"

With this she sank back upon the cushions, from which she had half raised herself; her bosom heaved tumultuously up and down, as if, in the death-pangs; her lips grew bluer, and her eyes seemed to break.

In wild anguish Peregrine caught at his neckcloth, from which Master Flea now leapt, of his own accord, upon the white neck of the little-one, exclaiming, in a tone of the deepest grief--"I am lost I!"

Peregrine stretched out his hand to catch the Master, but suddenly it seemed as if some invisible power held back his arm; and far other thoughts ran through his head than those which till now had occupied it.

"How!" thought he--"because you are a frail man, and influenced by a mad passion, will you therefore betray him, to whom you have promised your protection? Will you therefore plunge a free, harmless people into eternal slavery, and utterly ruin the friend whose thoughts and words agree?--No--no--recollect yourself, Peregrine!--Rather die than be a traitor!"

"Give--up--the prisoner--I am dying!" stammered the little one, with failing voice.

"No!" cried Peregrine, while in despair he caught her in his arms--"No! never! But let me die with you!"

And now a fine, penetrating harmony was heard, as if little silver bells were struck. Doertje, with fresh roses on her lips and cheeks, started up suddenly from the sofa, and, breaking into a convulsive laughter, skipt about the chamber. She seemed to have been bit by the tarantula.

Peregrine gazed in terror on the strange spectacle, and the same did the physician, who stood at the door quite petrified, keeping out Mr. Swammer, who had followed him.

Sixth Adventure.

Strange behaviour of strolling jugglers in a tavern, together with a tolerable buffeting.--Tragical history of a tailor at Sachsenhausen.--How George Pepusch astonished some honest folks.--The horoscope.--Pleasant battle of some well-known people in Leuwenhock's apartments.

All the passers-by stopt, stretched out their necks and peeped through the window into the coffee-room. With every moment the crowd grew greater, the pressure more violent, and the noise louder. All this was occasioned by two strangers, who, besides that their form, their dress, their whole manner had something extraordinary about it, that was repulsive and ridiculous at the same time, played off many wonderful tricks, such as had never been seen before. The one, an old man, of a dirty, disagreeable appearance, was dressed in a surtout of shining stuff. Sometimes he made himself thin and long, sometimes he would shrink himself up to a short fat fellow, winding about all the time like a worm. The other, with powdered hair, motly silk coat, under-dress of the same, large silver buckles, and altogether resembling a petit-maitre of the last half of the foregoing century, repeatedly flew up to the ceiling, and then gently let himself down again, while, with a cheerful voice, he trilled discordant songs in a language altogether unknown.

According to the host's declaration, they had both come in--one a short time after the other--like orderly people, and had called for wine. Then they had gazed more and more keenly on each other, and entered into conversation; and although the language of it was unintelligible to all the guests, yet their tone and manner showed they were engaged in a dispute, which grew warmer and warmer. On a sudden they had taken their present form and began these mad tricks, which continually attracted more spectators.

"The man, who flies up and down so admirably," exclaimed one of the spectators, "is the clock-maker, Degen, of Vienna--he who invented the flying machine, with which he is constantly contriving to tumble down upon his nose."

"No," replied another; "that is not the clock-maker. I should rather fancy that it was the Little Tailor of Sachsenhausen, if I did not know that the poor thing was burnt."

I know not whether my readers are acquainted with the Little Tailor of Sachsenhausen? Here it is.

_History of the Little Tailor of Sachsenhausen._

It happened that a pious little tailor, at Sachsenhausen, was coming out of church one Sunday with his wife, in all his best attire. The air was raw, the little tailor had taken nothing over night but a soft boiled egg and a few pickled gerkins, and in the morning a cup of coffee. Moreover he had been singing most vehemently in the church, and hence he began to feel in a piteous plight, and to long for a dram. As he had worked hard through the week, and had been particularly kind to his better-half, making her a very pretty gown out of the pieces cabbaged from his customers, she consented to his going into the apothecary's and getting himself a dram, which he did accordingly. The awkward apprentice, who was alone in the shop, made a mistake, and took down a bottle which, instead of a dram, contained inflammable gas, wherewith balloons are filled. Of this the apprentice poured out a full glass, and the tailor, putting it at once to his mouth, swallowed off the gas as an agreeable reviver. It made him, however, feel very strangely,--as if he had got a pair of wings on his shoulders, or as if some one were playing at foot-ball with him; for he felt himself compelled to jump up and down in the shop, and with every moment the impetus increased.

"Eh! Gemini! Gemini!" he cried,--"what a nimble dancer I have grown!"

The apothecary's apprentice stood with his mouth gaping wide from pure wonder, when it chanced that some one opened the door so hastily, that the opposite window flew open also. A strong current of air poured in, caught up the little tailor, and away he sailed through the window, since when he has not been seen; but it happened some time after, that the people of Sachsenhausen observed in the air a fire-ball, which lighted the whole country with its brightness, and then, being extinguished, fell to earth. All were eager to know what had dropt, and ran to the place, but found nothing more than a little heap of ashes, but with this the tongue of a shoe-buckle, a little piece of yellow satin with flowers, and a something black, which, to look at, was like the horn-top of a walking stick. All were in deep council how such things could fall down from heaven in a fire-ball, when the wife of the departed tailor came up, and, on seeing these things, wrung her hands, took on most piteously, and cried out, "Ah, woe! that is my husband's buckle!--Ah, woe! that is my husband's Sunday waistcoat!--Ah, woe! that is my husband's cane-top!"--A very learned man, however, has declared that the cane-top was no cane-top, but a meteoric ball, or an abortive globe.

Thus was made known to the people of Sachsenhausen and to all the world, that the poor little tailor, to whom the apothecary's apprentice had given inflammable gas instead of a dram, was burnt in the air, and had fallen to earth, as a meteoric ball, or an abortive globe.

_End of the History of the Little Tailor of Sadisenhausen._

* * * * *

The taverner was at length impatient that the odd guest did not cease making himself now larger now smaller, without paying him any attention, and held the flask of Burgundy, which he had ordered, close to his nose. The stranger caught fast hold of it immediately, and did not let go till he had drained the last drop: then he sank, as if fainting, into an armchair, and could scarcely move himself.

The guests observed with astonishment that he swelled more and more during the drinking, and now appeared quite thick and shapeless. The fly-work of the other seemed also to be at a stand; he was about to sit down, panting and breathless, but, perceiving how his adversary lay there, half dead, he flew suddenly upon him, and began to belabour him soundly with his fists. The host, however, pulled him off, and declared that he would turn him out of the house, if he did not keep quiet. If they both wished to show their juggler's tricks, they were welcome to do so, but without quarrelling and fighting like blackguards.

The flying gentleman seemed to take it somewhat ill that the host should suppose he was a juggler. He protested that he was nothing less than a vagabond, who went about playing off legerdemain tricks; he had formerly been ballet-master to a celebrated king, but now practised in private as an amateur, and was called, as his functions required he should be, Legenie. If, in his just indignation at the abominable fellow there, he had sprung somewhat higher than was fitting, that was his own business, and concerned no one else.

The host on his part opined, that all this did not justify any fisty-cuffs; to which the amateur replied, that mine host did not know the malicious fellow, or he would willingly allow his back to be drubbed black and blue. He had formerly been a French custom-house officer, and now gained a livelihood by blood-letting, cupping, and shaving, and was called Monsieur Leech, a nuisance to every body, by his awkwardness, stupidity, and gluttony. It was not enough that the scoundrel, wherever he met him, whisked away the wine from his very lips, as he had done just now, but he was plotting to carry off his bride, whom he intended to carry home from Frankfort.

The Douanier had heard all that the Amateur advanced, and, glancing at him with his little malicious eyes, said to the host, "Don't believe a syllable that the gallows-bird there is chattering. An admirable ballet-master, truly! who with his elephant feet crushes the legs of the fair dancers, and with his pirouette knocks a tooth out of the manager's jaw at the wing. And his verses, too! they have as awkward feet as himself, and tumble here and there, like drunkards, treading the thoughts to pap. Because he flutters heavily in the air at times, like a drowsy gander, the conceited peacock fancies he is to have the fair-one for his bride."

At this the indignant Amateur cried out, "thou, Satan's worm, thou shalt feel the gander's beak," and would have fallen upon the Douanier again, when the host seized him from behind, with strong arm, and, amidst the rejoicing of the assembled crowd, flung him out of the window.

No sooner was the Amateur gone than Monsieur Leech resumed the plain solid form, in which he had entered. The people, without, took him for quite another person than the juggler, who had played such strange tricks, and quietly dispersed. The Douanier thanked mine host in the most obliging terms for his aid against the Amateur, and, to prove his gratitude, offered to shave him for nothing, and more pleasantly than ever he had been shaved in his life before. The host felt his beard, and, it seeming to him at the moment as if the hairs were terribly long, he accepted Mr. Leech's offer, who accordingly set about it, at first, with a light, dexterous hand, but on a sudden he cut his nose so shrewdly, that the blood streamed down. The host, deeming this to be nothing else than malice, seized the Douanier, who flew as nimbly out of the door as the Amateur through the window. Immediately after there arose a loud tumult without, and, scarcely allowing himself time to stop the bleeding of his nose with lint, he flew out to see what devil was raising this new uproar. There, to his no little astonishment, he saw a young man, who with one hand grasped the Amateur, and with the other the Douanier, and with rolling eyes exclaimed, "Ha! Satan's brood! you shall not cross my way, you shall not rob me of Gamaheh!" while his prisoners intermixed their cries of, "A madman! Save--save us, host--he mistakes us--he will murder us--"

"Eh!" cried the host, "what are you about, my good Mr. Pepusch? Have you been offended by these strange people? Perhaps you are mistaken in them. This is the ballet-master, Monsieur Legenie, and this the Douanier, Monsieur Leech."

"Ballet-master Legenie! Douanier Leech!" repeated Pepusch, in a hollow voice.

He seemed as if waking out of a dream, and trying to recollect himself. In the mean time two honest citizens, of his acquaintance, came out of the inn, who joined in persuading him to be quiet, and let the fellows go about their business.

Again Pepusch exclaimed, "Ballet-master Legenie! Douanier Leech!" and let his arms drop powerless by his side. With the speed of wind, the released prisoners were off, and it seemed to many in the street as if the Amateur fled over the roofs of the neighbouring houses, and the barber was lost in the puddle that had collected itself between the stones before the door.

The two citizens invited the distracted Pepusch to come in and drink a glass of old hock with them, an offer which he readily accepted, and seemed to enjoy the generous wine, though he sate silent and abstracted, and answered not a word to all that could be said to him. At last, however, his features brightened up, and he said, very kindly, "You did well, my friends, in hindering me from killing, on the spot, those wretches, who were in my power. But you know not what dangerous creatures lurk beneath their masks."

Pepusch paused, and it may be easily supposed with what eagerness the citizens waited for what he had to discover. The host also had approached them, and all three poked their heads together, with their arms crossed upon the table, and held in their breath, that they might not lose a syllable from Peregrine's mouth.

"See, my good people," he continued solemnly, "see; he, whom you call the Balletmaster, Legenie, is no other than the evil, awkward genius, Thetel; the other, whom you take for the Douanier, Leech, is the hateful bloodsucker, the Leech-Prince. Both are in love with the Princess, Gamaheh, who, as you know, is the daughter of the mighty king, Sekakis, and are here to make her false to the Thistle, Zeherit. This is the greatest folly that ever entered into a foolish brain, for, besides the Thistle, Zeherit, there is but one person in the world to whom she can belong, and this person would perhaps vainly enter into the contest with Zeherit. For soon the Thistle will bloom at midnight in full splendour and strength, and in the death of love dawns the morning of a higher life. Now, I myself am the Thistle, Zeherit, and, therefore, my good friends, you cannot blame me if I am indignant with those traitors, and altogether take the whole affair much to heart."

The three listeners opened their eyes wide, and stared, speechlessly, at Pepusch, with open mouths. They had tumbled out of the clouds, as people say, and their heads were humming with the fall. But Pepusch emptied a bumper, and, turning to the host, said, "Yes, yes, mine host; you will soon see that I shall bloom as the _Cactus grandiflorus_, and the whole country round will be impregnated with its perfume. You may believe me, friends."

The host could utter nothing but an exclamation of stupid surprise--"Eh! that would be the deuce!" The two citizens exchanged mysterious glances, and one, taking George's hand, said with a doubtful smile, "You seem to be somewhat disquieted, my good Mr. Pepusch; how, if you were to take a glass of water, and--"

"Not a drop!" exclaimed Peregrine, interrupting the well-meant counsel; "not a drop! Has water ever been poured upon boiling oil without increasing the fury of the flames?--I am disquieted, you say? In truth that may well be the case; how the devil can I be otherwise, after having exchanged shots with my bosom friend, and then sending a bullet through my own brain?--Here, into your hands I deliver up the murderous weapons, now that all is over."

Pepusch drew a brace of pistols from his pocket, whereat the host started back; the citizens snatched at them, but, no sooner had they fairly hold of them, than they burst out into immoderate laughter. The pistols were of wood, a plaything from the Christmas fair.

Pepusch seemed to pay no attention to what was going on about him; he sate in deep thought, and continually cried out, "If I could but find him! if I could but find him!"

The host took courage, and modestly asked, "Whom do you mean, my good Mr. Pepusch? Whom can you not find?"

"Know you," said Pepusch solemnly, and fixing the host with a keen gaze,--"know you any one to be compared, in might and wondrous power, with the king Sekakis; then name his name and I will kiss your feet. But for the rest, I would ask you if you know any one who is acquainted with Mr. Peregrine Tyss, and can tell me where I may meet him at this present moment?"

To this the host replied, smirking amiably, "Here I can serve you, respected Mr. Pepusch, and inform you, that he was with me an hour ago, taking a glass of wine. He was very thoughtful, and when I asked 'What news on 'Change?' he suddenly cried out, 'Yes, sweet Gamaheh! I have renounced you! Be happy in my George's arms!' Upon this a thin curious voice said, 'Let us now go to Leuwenhock's, and peep into the horoscope.' Immediately Mr. Tyss emptied his glass, and they went away together--that is, Mr. Tyss and the voice without a body. Probably they have gone to Leuwenhock's, who is lamenting that his well-disciplined fleas have, one and all, deserted him."

The words were scarcely out of the host's mouth than George started up in a fury, and, seizing him by the throat, cried out, "Scoundrel, what do you say? Renounced? renounced her?--Gamaheh!--Peregrine!--Sekakis!"

The host's story, however, was perfectly correct. He had heard Master Flea, who was summoning Peregrine, in his fine silver tones, to go to the microscopist, Leuwenhock, for what purpose the reader knows already. Peregrine had really gone thither, and was received by Leuwenhock with that soft odious friendliness, and that humility of compliment, which announce the burthensome and reluctant recognition of superiority. But, as Mr. Tyss had the microscopic glass in the pupil of his eye, all this complimenting and subservience availed Antony von Leuwenhock nothing in the world; on the contrary, Peregrine only the more discovered the hatred which filled the heart of the microscopist. While he protested how much he felt honoured and rejoiced by Mr. Tyss's visit, the thoughts ran thus:--"I wish that the devil had plunged you ten thousand fathoms deep in the abyss! But I must feign friendship and submission towards you, as the cursed constellation has placed me under your dominion, and my whole being in some sort depends upon you. But perhaps I may be able to outwit you, for, in spite of your high descent, you are a simple fool. You fancy that Doertje Elverdink loves you, and will perhaps marry her. Only come to me about it, and you fall into my hands, in spite of the power that dwells within you without your knowing it, and I will employ every thing to ruin you, and gain possession of Doertje and Master Flea."

Peregrine naturally regulated his conduct by these thoughts, and took good care not to say a syllable about Doertje Elverdink, and pretended that he came to see Leuwenhock's collection of natural rarities.

While now Leuwenhock opened the great drawers, Master Flea whispered very gently in Peregine's ear, that his (Peregrine's) horoscope was lying on the table by the window. Here he saw all manner of lines, that mysteriously crossed each other, and many other wonderful signs; but as he was entirely deficient in astronomical knowledge, all remained confused and dark to him, look as keenly as he would. Yet it seemed strange to him, that, in the bright red point, in the middle of the table on which the horoscope was drawn, he plainly recognised himself. The longer he looked at this point, the more it gained the shape of a heart, and the more brightly it reddened. Still it only sparkled as through a web, with which it was overspread.

Peregrine plainly saw that Leuwenhock wanted to draw off his attention from the horoscope, and as he ran no risk of being deceived, very rationally resolved to question his friendly enemy at once, and without any circumlocution, as to the meaning of the mysterious table. Leuwenhock assured him, with a malicious smile, that nothing would give him greater pleasure than the explaining to his respected friend the signs upon the table, which he himself had drawn, according to his slight knowledge in such matters.

The thoughts ran thus:--"Hoho! are you after that, my wise sir? In truth Master Flea has not advised you ill. I myself am to explain the table, and help you to the understanding of the magic might that dwells in your worthy person! I might invent some lies for you, but of what use would it be, for, if I were to tell you the truth, you would not understand a syllable, but would remain stupid as ever? From pure convenience, therefore, and not to put myself to the trouble of invention, I will tell you so much of the signs of the table as seems good to me."

Peregrine knew now that, if he was not to learn all, at least he would not be deceived with falsehoods.

Leuwenhock placed the tablet on something like an easel, which he brought forward from a corner of the room, and both seating themselves before it, considered it for a time in silence. At length Leuwenhock began with much solemnity:

"You, perhaps, do not suspect that those lines, those characters on the table, which you are so attentively considering, are your own horoscope, drawn by myself, with mysterious astrologic art, under the favourable influence of the stars.--How came you to such a presumptuous idea? what could make you wish to unravel the web of my fate, to read my destiny?--so might you ask, my friend, and with perfect justice, if I were not able to show you my inward call thereto. I know not whether you have heard of the celebrated rabbi, Isaac Ben Harravad. Among other profound knowledge, he had the strange gift of reading by men's faces whether the soul had previously inhabited another body, or whether it was to be considered quite fresh and new. I was yet very young when the rabbi died of an indigestion, brought on by eating of a dish highly seasoned with garlic. The Jews ran away with the body so quickly, that the deceased had not time to collect and carry off all his knowledge, which the illness had scattered. Laughing heirs divided the property, but I had fished off that wonderful seer-gift, in the very moment that the Angel of Death had set his sword upon the rabbi's breast. In this way the wonderful faculty has come to me, and I, like the rabbi, Isaac Ben Harravad, can read in the faces of men, whether the soul has before occupied another body or not. Your brow, Mr. Tyss, when I saw it the first time, excited the strangest thoughts and doubts. I was certain of the previous existence of your soul long ago, and yet the form, prior to your present life, remained a perfect mystery. I was forced to have recourse to the stars, and draw your horoscope, to solve the difficulty."

"Well!" exclaimed Peregrine;--"and have you discovered anything, Mr. Leuwenhock?"

"Certainly!" replied Leuwenhock, assuming a still more solemn tone--"certainly! I have discovered that the physical principle, which now animates the agreeable body of my very worthy friend, Mr. Peregrine Tyss, existed long ago, although only as a thought or consciousness of a shape. Look here; consider attentively the red point in the centre of the table. That is not only yourself, but the point is the form, of which your physical principle once could not be conscious. As a sparkling carbuncle, you then lay in a deep mine of the earth; but stretched over you, on the green surface of the ground, slept the beautiful Gamaheh; and her form also passed away in unconsciousness. Strange lines and foreign constellations cross your life from the point of time when the thought first put on a form, and became Mr. Peregrine Tyss. You are in possession of a talisman without knowing it, and this talisman is that very red carbuncle; it may be that King Sekakis wore it as a precious jewel in his crown, or, perhaps, in some measure, was the carbuncle itself; enough,--you possess it now; but a certain event must take place if its slumbering power is to be awakened; and with this waking of the power of your talisman will be decided the fate of an unhappy creature, who hitherto has led a shadowy life between fear and changing hope.--Alas! it was only a shadowy life that the sweet Gamaheh could gain by the profoundest magic, as the operative talisman was stolen from us. You alone have killed her, you alone can breathe fresh life into her, when the carbuncle glows again in your breast."

"And can you," interrupted Peregrine, "can you explain what that event is which is to awake the power of the talisman?"

The microscopist stared with open eyes at Peregrine, like a person who is suddenly surprised into confusion, and who does not know what to say. The thoughts ran thus: "If I had but held my tongue about the talisman which the unlucky rascal carries within him, and which gives him so much power over us that we must all dance to his pipe!--and now I am to tell him the event on which depends the awaking the strength of his talisman! Shall I confess to him that I don't know myself, that all my art fails to loosen the knot in which the lines meet?--nay, that when I consider the planetary centre of the horoscope, I feel most piteously, and my own learned head seems to me no better than a painted block for periwigs? Far from me be any such confession that would lower me, and put arms into his hands against myself. I will fasten something upon the ideot who fancies himself so wise,--something that shall make his blood run cold, and take from him all farther inclination of teazing me."

"My dearest sir," said the Flea-tamer, putting on a very important face,--"my dearest Mr. Tyss, don't ask me to speak of this event. You know that the horoscope does indeed plainly and perfectly instruct us as to the existence of certain circumstances; but,--such is the wisdom of Eternal Might,--the event of threatening dangers always remains dark and doubtful. I esteem you too highly as an excellent kind-hearted man to put you into disquiet and anxiety before the time; otherwise I should at least tell you so much, that the event which is to give you the consciousness of power, would in the same moment destroy your present form of being with the most horrible agonies of hell. But no! on that too I will be silent; and now not another word of the horoscope. Do not, however, fret yourself, although the affair looks bad enough, and I, with all my knowledge, can hardly see any chance of a favourable issue to the adventure. Perhaps you may be saved from this peril by some unexpected constellation, which is now beyond the reach of observation."

Peregrine was astonished at this deceit, yet still the whole state of the thing, the peculiar situation in which Leuwenhock stood without suspecting it, appeared to him so exceedingly pleasant, that he could not help breaking out into a loud fit of laughter. The microscopist, somewhat surprised at this, asked, "What are you laughing at so vehemently, my dear Mr. Tyss?"

"You do wisely," replied Peregrine, still laughing,--"you do very wisely in keeping secret, out of pure kindness, this threatening event; for besides that you are too much my friend to put me into fear and terror, you have yet another excellent reason for your silence, which is nothing else than that you do not know a syllable about the matter. In vain was all your labour to unriddle that knot; your whole astrology goes but to little; and, if Master Flea had not fallen upon your nose, all your arts would have helped you little."

Leuwenhock's brow was red with rage; he clenched his fist, gnashed his teeth, and trembled so violently with agitation, that he would have tumbled from his seat, if Peregrine had not held him as firmly by the arm as George Pepusch grasped the unlucky taverner by the throat, who at length succeeded in saving himself by a dexterous side-spring. Hereupon George rushed out and entered Leuwenhock's room just as Peregrine was holding him fast upon his seat, while he muttered furiously between his teeth, "Cursed Swammerdamm! is it _you_ that have done this?"