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

King Sekakis, and was reminding her, with all the fire of love, that the circumstance of his battle with the Leech-Prince had given him the most incontestable right to her hand. On her part, she declared that she well remembered it, and had already felt the foreboding of it, when Pepusch gazed on her with the thistle-glance; she spoke, too, so sweetly of these wonderful matters, seemed so inspired with love to the thistle, Zeherit, who had been destined to study at Jena, and then again find the Princess Gamaheh in Berlin, that George Pepusch fancied himself in the El Dorado of all delight. The lovers stood at the window, and the little one suffered her enamoured friend to wind his arm about her. In this familiar position they caressed each other, for to that at last came the dreamy talk about the wonders in Famagusta, when it chanced that a handsome officer of the guards passed by in a brand-new uniform, and familiarly greeted the little one, whom he knew from the evening entertainments; Dörtje had half closed her eyes and turned away her head from the street, so that one would have thought it was impossible for her to see the officer, but great is the magic of a fine new uniform! The little one⁠—roused, perhaps, by the clatter of the sabre on the pavement⁠—opened her eyes broad and bright, twisted herself from George’s arm, flung open the window, threw a kiss to the officer, and watched him till he had disappeared round the corner.

“Gamaheh!” shouted George Pepusch, quite beside himself, “Gamaheh! What is this? Do you mock me? Is this the faith you have promised to your Thistle?”

The little one turned round upon her heel, burst into a loud laughter, and exclaimed⁠—

“Go, go, George; if I am the daughter of the worthy old King Sekakis, if you are the thistle, Zeherit, that dear officer is the genius, Thetel, who, in fact, pleases me much better than the sad thorny thistle.”

With this she darted away through the door, while George Pepusch, as might be expected, fell immediately into a fit of desperation, and rushed down the steps as if he had been driven by a thousand devils. Fate would have it, that he met a friend, in a post-chaise, who was leaving Berlin, upon which he called out, “Halt! I go with you,” flew home, donned a great coat, put money in his purse, gave the key of his room to the hostess, seated himself in the chaise, and posted off with his friend.

Notwithstanding this hostile separation, his love to the fair Hollandress was by no means extinguished⁠—and just as little could he resolve to give up the fair claims, which, as the thistle Zeherit, he thought he had to the hand and heart of Gamaheh⁠—he renewed therefore his pretensions, when some years afterwards he met with Leeuwenhoek again at the Hague, and how zealously he followed her in Frankfurt the reader has learned already.

George Pepusch was wandering through the streets at night, quite inconsolable, when his attention was attracted by an unusually bright light that fell upon the street from a crevice in the window-shutter in the lower room of a large house. He thought that there must be fire in the chamber, and swung himself up by means of the ironwork to look in. Boundless was his surprise at what he saw. A large fire blazed in the chimney, which was opposite to the window, before which sat, or rather lay, the little Hollandress in a broad old-fashioned armchair, dressed out like an angel. She seemed to sleep, while a withered old man knelt before the fire, and with spectacles on his nose, peeped into a kettle, in which he was probably brewing some potion. Pepusch was trying to raise himself higher to get a better view of the group, when he felt himself seized by the legs, and violently pulled down. A harsh voice exclaimed, “Now only see the rascal! To the watchhouse, my master!” It was the watchman who had observed George climbing up the window, and could not suppose otherwise than that he wanted to break into the house. In spite of all protestations, George Pepusch was dragged off by the watchman, to whose help the patrol had hastened, and thus his nightly wandering ended merrily in the watchhouse.

III Third Adventure

He who has experienced such things in one evening as Mr. Peregrine Tyss, and who is consequently in such a state of mind, cannot possibly sleep well. He rolled about restless on his bed, and, when he fell into that sort of delirium which usually precedes sleep, he again held the little creature in his arms, and felt warm glowing kisses on his lips. Then he would start up and fancy, even when awake, that he heard the sweet voice of Alina. He would burn with desire that she might not have fled, and yet again would fear that she might return and snare him in a net, from which he could not extricate himself. This war of contrary feelings straightened his breast, and filled it at the same time with a sweet pain, such as he had never felt before.

“Sleep not, Peregrine; sleep not, generous man: I must speak with you directly,” was lisped close by Peregrine, and still the voice went on with “sleep not, sleep not,” till at last he opened his eyes, which he had closed only to see Alina more distinctly. By the light of the lamp he perceived a little monster, scarce a span long, that sat upon the white counterpane, and which at first terrified him, but in the next moment he grasped boldly at it with his hand, to convince himself whether he was or was not deceived by his fancy, but the little monster had immediately disappeared without leaving a trace behind.

Though it was not requisite to give a minute description of the fair Alina, Dörtje Elverdink, or Princess