Master Flea by E. T. A. Hoffmann (drm ebook reader .txt) 📕

there from the odious Leech-Prince, the sworn enemy of the Flower-Queen. Be this as it may⁠—it happened once in Famagusta, that the princess was walking in the cool freshness of the evening, and chanced upon a pleasant cypress grove. Allured by the delightful sighings of the evening breeze, the murmurs of a brook, and the soft music of the birds, she stretched herself upon the moss, and quickly fell into a sound slumber. At this moment, the very enemy⁠—whom she had been so anxious to escape⁠—lifted his head out of the marshes, beheld the princess, and became so violently enamoured of the fair sleeper, that he could not resist an inclination to kiss her, and creeping forward, he kissed her under the left ear. Now you know, friend Pepusch, that when the Leech-Prince sets about kissing a fair one, she is lost, for he is the vilest bloodsucker in the world. So it happened on this occasion: the Leech-Prince kissed the poor Gamaheh so long, that all life left her, when he fell back gorged and intoxicated upon the moss, and was forced to be carried home by his servants, who hastily rolled out of their marshes. In vain the root mandragora toiled out of the earth, and laid itself upon the wound inflicted by the treacherous kisses of the Leech-Prince; in vain all the other flowers arose and joined in his lamentations: she was dead. Just then it happened that the genius, Thetel, was passing, and he too was deeply moved by Gamaheh’s beauty and her unlucky end. He took her in his arms, pressed her to his breast, and endeavoured to breathe new life into her, but still she awoke not from the sleep of death. Now too the genius perceived the odious prince⁠—who was so drunk and unwieldly that his servants had not been able to get him into his palace⁠—fell into a violent rage, and threw a whole handful of rock-salt upon him, at which he poured forth again all the purple blood which he had drawn from the princess, and then gave up his spirit in a wretched manner, amidst the most violent convulsions. All the flowers that stood around dipped their vestments in this ichor, and stained them, in perpetual remembrance of the murdered princess, with so bright a purple that no painter on earth can imitate it. You know, Pepusch, that the most beautiful pinks and hyacinths grow in that cypress grove where the Leech-Prince kissed to death the fair Gamaheh.

“The genius, Thetel, now thought of departing, as he had much to do at Samarkand before night, and cast a farewell look at the princess, when he seemed as if fixed by magic to the spot, and gazed on the fair one with deep emotion. Suddenly a thought struck him. Instead of going on farther, he took the princess in his arms, and rose with her high into the air, at which time two philosophers⁠—one of whom it should be said was myself⁠—were observing the course of the stars from the gallery of a lofty tower. They perceived high above them the genius, Thetel, with the fair Gamaheh, and at the same moment there fell upon one⁠—but that is nothing to the present matter. Both magicians had recognised the genius, but not the princess, and exhausted themselves in all manner of conjectures as to the meaning of this appearance, without being able to get at anything certain, or even probable. Soon after this the unhappy fate of the princess became generally known in Famagusta, and now the magicians knew how to interpret the vision of the genius with the maiden in his arms. Both imagined that the genius must certainly have found some means of recalling the princess into life, and resolved to make inquiries in Samarkand, where, according to their observations, he had manifestly directed his flight. But in Samarkand all were silent about the princess; no one knew a word.

“Many years had passed; the two magicians had quarrelled, as it will happen with learned men⁠—and the more learned the oftener⁠—and they only imparted to each other their most important discoveries from the iron force of custom. (You have not forgotten, Pepusch, that I myself am one of these magicians.) Well, I was not a little surprised at a communication from my colleague, which contained the most wonderful⁠—and at the same time the happiest⁠—intelligence of the princess that could be imagined. The matter was thus: by means of a scientific friend in Samarkand, my colleague had obtained the loveliest and rarest tulips, and as perfectly fresh as if they had been just cut from the stalk. His chief object was the microscopic examination of the interior portions, and in fact, of the petal. It was with this view that he was dissecting a beautiful tulip, and discovered in the cup a strange little kernel that struck him prodigiously, but how great was his astonishment when, on applying his glass, he perceived that the little kernel was nothing else than the Princess Gamaheh, who, pillowed in the petal of the tulip, seemed to slumber softly and calmly.

“However great the distance that separated me from my colleague, yet I set off immediately, and hastened to him. He had in the meantime put off all operations, to allow me the pleasure of a sight first, and perhaps, too, from the fear of spoiling something if he acted entirely from himself. I soon convinced myself of the perfect correctness of my colleague’s observations, and, like him, firmly believed that it were possible to snatch the princess from her sleep, and give her again her original form. The sublime spirit, dwelling within us, soon let us find the proper method, but as you, friend Pepusch, know very little⁠—in fact nothing at all⁠—of our art, it would be quite superfluous to describe to you the different operations which we went through to attain our object. It is sufficient if I tell you that by the dexterous use of