Flea, as he had just then begun to sneeze loudly, "my dear friend, you
are particularly chosen by the spirit of the creation, a pet-child of
nature, for you possess the most wonderful talisman, or, to speak more
correctly and scientifically, the most splendid Tsilmenaja, or
Tilsemoht, that was ever fed by the dew of heaven, and has sprung from
the lap of earth. It is an honour to my art that I, and not Leuwenhock,
have discovered that this lucky talisman sleeps for a time till a
certain constellation enters, which finds its centre-point in your
worthy person. With yourself, my dear friend, something must, and will,
happen, which in the moment the power of the talisman awakes, may make
that waking known to you. Let Leuwenhock have told you what he will, it
must all be false; for, in regard to that point, he knew nothing at
all, until I opened his eyes. Perhaps he tried to frighten you, my dear
friend, with some terrible catastrophe, for I know he likes to terrify
people without reason.--But trust to me, Mr. Tyss, who have the highest
respect for you, and swear it to you most solemnly, you have nothing to
fear. I should like, however, to learn, whether you do not as yet feel
the presence of the talisman, and what you think of the matter
altogether."
At these last words Swammerdamm eyed his host as keenly as if he would
pierce his deepest thoughts; but of course he did not succeed so well
in that as Peregrine with his microscopic glass, by means of which the
latter learnt that it was not so much the united war with the Amateur
and the Barber, as the mysterious horoscope, that had brought about the
reconciliation of the microscopists. It was the possession of the
mighty talisman that both were striving after. In regard to the
mysterious lines in the horoscope of Peregrine, Swammerdamm remained in
as vexatious ignorance as Leuwenhock; but he fancied the clue must lie
within Peregrine, which would lead to the discovery of the mystery.
This clue he now sought to fish out of the novice, and then rob him of
the inestimable treasure before he knew its value. He was convinced
this talisman was equal to that of the wise Solomon, since, like that,
it gave him who possessed it the perfect dominion over the kingdom of
spirits.
Peregrine paid like with like, himself mystifying Swammerdamm, who
thought to mystify him. He contrived to answer so dexterously, in such
figurative speeches, that the microscopist feared the initiation had
already begun, and that soon the mystery would be revealed which
neither he nor Leuwenhock had been able to unravel.
Swammerdamm cast down his eyes, hemmed, and stammered a few
unintelligible words; he was really in a bad plight, and his thoughts
were all in confusion.
"The devil! What's this? Is this Peregrine, who speaks to me? Am I the
learned Swammerdamm or an ass?"
In despair he at last collected himself, and began,
"But to come to something else, most respected Mr. Tyss, and, as it
seems to me, something much more agreeable."--
According to what Swammer now went on to say, both he and Leuwenhock
had perceived, with great pleasure, the strong inclination which Doertje
Elverdink had conceived for him. If they had both formerly been of a
different opinion, each believing that Doertje should stay with himself,
and not think of love and marriage, yet they had now both come to a
better conviction. They fancied that they read in Peregrine's
horoscope, he positively must take Doertje Elverdink for his wife, as
the greatest advantage in all the conjunctures of his life, and, as
neither doubted for a moment that he was equally enamoured of her, they
had looked upon the matter as fully settled. Swammerdamm, moreover, was
of opinion that Peregrine was the only one who, without any trouble,
could beat his rivals out of the field; and that the most dangerous
opponents, namely, the Amateur and the Barber, could avail nothing
against him.
Peregrine found, from Swammerdamm's thoughts, that both the
microscopists actually imagined they had read in his horoscope the
inevitable necessity of his marriage with Doertje. It was to this
supposed necessity only they yielded, thinking to draw the greatest
gain from the apparent loss of the little-one, namely, by getting
possession of Mr. Tyss and his talisman. But it may be easily supposed
how little faith he must have in the science of the two microscopists,
when neither of them was able to solve the centre-point of the
horoscope. He did not, therefore, at all yield to that pretended
conjunction, which conditioned the necessity of his marriage with
Gamaheh, and found no difficulty whatever in declaring positively, that
he renounced her hand in favour of his best friend, George Pepusch, who
had older and better claims to the fair one, and that he would not
break his word upon any condition.
Swammerdamm raised his green eyes, which he had so long cast down,
stared vehemently at Peregrine, and grinned with the cunning of a fox,
as he said, if the friendship between him and Pepusch were the only
scruple which kept him from giving free scope to his feelings, this
obstacle existed no longer: Pepusch had perceived, although slightly
touched with madness, his marriage with Doertje was against the stars,
and nothing could come from it but misery and destruction. He had
therefore resigned all his pretensions, declaring only that, with his
life, he would protect Gamaheh,--who could belong to no one but his
bosom-friend, Tyss,--against the awkward dolt of an Amateur and the
bloodthirsty Barber.
A cold shudder ran through Peregrine, when he perceived, from
Swammerdamm's thoughts, that all was true which he had spoken.
Overpowered by the strangest and the most opposite feelings, he sank
back upon his pillow and closed his eyes. The microscopist pressed him
to come down himself, and hear from Doertje's mouth, from George's, the
present state of things, and then took his leave with as much ceremony
as he had entered.
Master Flea, who sate the whole time quietly on the pillow, suddenly
leaped up to the top of Peregrine's nightcap. There he raised himself
up on his long hind-legs, wrung his hands, stretched them imploringly
to Heaven, and cried out in a voice half stifled with tears,
"Woe to poor me! I already thought myself safe, and now comes the most
dangerous trial. What avail me the courage, the constancy of my noble
patron?--I surrender myself! All is over."
"Why," said Mr. Tyss, in a faint voice--"why do you lament so on my
nightcap, my dear master? Do you fancy that you alone have to complain?
that I myself am not in the unhappiest situation in the world? for my
whole mind seems broken up, and I neither know what to do, nor which
way to turn my thoughts. But do not fancy, my dear master, I am foolish
enough to venture near the rock upon which all my resolutions might be
shipwrecked. I shall take care not to follow Swammerdamm's invitation,
and to avoid seeing the alluring Doertje Elverdink."
"In reality," said Master Flea, after he had taken his old post, upon
the pillow, by Peregrine's ear,--"in reality I am not sure that I ought
not to advise you to go at once to Swammerdamm's, however destructive
it may appear to myself. It seems to me as if all the lines of your
horoscope were running quicker and quicker together, and you yourself
were upon the point of entering the red centre.--Well, let the dark
destiny have decreed what it will, I plainly perceive even a Master
Flea cannot escape such a conclusion, and it is as simple as useless to
expect my safety from you. Go then, take her hand, deliver me to
slavery, and, that all may happen as the stars will it, without any
interference, make no use of the microscopic glass."
"Formerly," said Peregrine,--"formerly, Master Flea, your heart seemed
stout, your mind firm, and now you have grown so fainthearted!--You may
be as wise as you will, but you have no good idea of human resolution,
and, at all events, rate it too meanly.--Once more--I will not break my
word to you, and that you may perceive how fixed my determination is,
of not seeing the little-one again, I will now rise and betake myself,
as I did yesterday, to the bookbinder's."
"Oh Peregrine!" cried Master Flea, "the will of man is a frail thing; a
passing air will break it. How immense is the abyss lying between what
man wills and what really happens! Many a life is only a constant
_willing_, and many a one, from pure volition, at last does not know
what he will. You _will_ not see Doertje Elverdink, and yet who will
answer for it that you do not see her in the very moment of your
declaring such a resolution?"
Strange enough, the very thing really happened which Master Flea had
prophesied.
Peregrine arose, dressed himself, and, faithful to his intention, would
have gone to the bookbinder. In passing Swammerdamm's chamber, the door
was wide open, and,--he knew not how it happened,--he stood, leaning on
Swammerdamm's arm, close before Doertje Elverdink, who sent him a
hundred kisses, and with her silver voice cried out, joyfully, "Good
morning, my dear Peregrine!"--George Pepusch, too, was there, looking
out of the window and whistling. He now flung the window to with
violence, and turned round.
"Ha!" he exclaimed as if he had just then seen Peregrine--"ha! look!
You come to see your bride. That's all in order, and any third person
would only be in the way. I too will take myself off; but let me first
tell you, my good friend, Peregrine, that George Pepusch scorns every
gift which a compassionate friend would fling to him as if he were a
beggar. Cursed be every sacrifice! I will have nothing to thank you
for. Take the beautiful Gamaheh, who so warmly loves you; but take care
the Thistle, Zeherit, do not take root, and burst the walls of your
house."
George's voice and manner bordered upon brutality; and Peregrine was
filled with vexation, when he saw how much his whole conduct was
mistaken. Without concealing his disgust, he said,
"It never has entered into my head to cross you in your path, but the
madness of jealousy speaks out of you, or you would see how innocent I
am of all you have been brooding in your own soul. Do not ask of me to
kill the snake, which you have been nourishing in your breast for your
own torment; learn too, I gave _you_ no alms, I made _you_ no
sacrifice, in giving up the fair-one, and with her, perhaps, the
greatest blessing of my life. Other and higher duties, an irrevocable
promise, compelled me to it."
Pepusch, in the wildest wrath, raised his clenched hand against his
friend, when Gamaheh sprang between them, and, catching Peregrine's
arm, exclaimed,
"Let the foolish Thistle go; he has nothing but nonsense in his brain,
and, as is the way with thistles, is surly and obstinate without well
knowing what he means. You are mine, and remain mine,--mine own dearest
Peregrine."
Thus saying, the little-one drew Peregrine upon the sofa, and, without
farther ceremony, seated herself upon his knees. Pepusch, after having
sufficiently gnawed his nails, ran wildly out of the door.
Dressed again in the fairy dress of tissue, she appeared as lovely as
ever. Peregrine felt himself streamed through by the electric warmth of
her body, and yet, amidst it all, a cold mysterious shudder thrilled
through him like the breathing of death. For the first time he thought
that he saw something singular and lifeless deeply seated in her eyes,
while the tone of her voice, nay even the rustling of her dress,
betrayed a strange being, who was never to be trusted. It fell heavily
upon his heart, that, when she had spoken her real thoughts, she had
been in this same silver tissue; he knew not why he should fancy any
thing menacing in it, and yet the idea of this dress was intimately
blended with that of the supernatural, as a dream unites the most
heterogeneous things, and all passes for absurd, the deeper connexion
of which we are unable to comprehend.
Far from wounding the fair-one with a suspicion which was perhaps
false, Peregrine violently suppressed his feelings, and only waited for
a favourable opportunity of freeing himself and escaping from the snake
of Paradise. At last Doertje said,
"How is it, my sweet friend, you seem so cold and insensible to-day?
What have you got in your head, my life?"
"I have a headache," replied Peregrine, as indifferently as he was
able.--"Headache!--whims!--megrims!--nothing else, my sweet child. I
must go into the open air, and all will be over in a few minutes.
Besides, I am called away by a particular business."
"It is all invention!" exclaimed Gamaheh, starting up hastily.--"But
you are a malicious monkey, that must be tamed."
Peregrine was glad when he found himself in the open street; but as to
Master Flea, he was quite extravagant in his joy, tittering and
laughing incessantly in Peregrine's neckcloth, and clapping together
his fore-paws till they rang again. This merriment of his little
protege was somewhat troublesome to Mr. Tyss, as it disturbed him in
his meditations, and he begged of him to be quiet, for many grave
people had already glanced at him with looks of reproach, fancying it
was he who tittered and laughed, and played such foolish pranks in the
open streets.
"Fool that I was!" exclaimed Master Flea, persisting in the ebullitions
of his extravagant joy--"Fool that I was to doubt of the victory where
no battle was needed. Why, you had conquered in the moment, when even
the death of your beloved could not shake your resolution. Let me
shout, let me rejoice, for all must deceive me, if a bright morning-sun
do not soon arise, which will clear up every mystery."
On Peregrine's knocking at the bookbinder's, a soft female voice cried,
"Come in!"--He opened the door, and a young girl, who was alone in the
room, came forward, and asked him in a friendly manner what he wanted.
She was about eighteen years old, rather tall than short, and slim,
with the finest proportions. Her hair was of a bright chestnut colour,
her eyes were of a deep blue, and her skin seemed to be a blended web
of lilies and roses. But more than all this were the purity and
innocence that sate upon her brow, and showed themselves in all her
actions.
When Peregrine gazed on the gentle beauty, it seemed to him as if he
had been hitherto lying in bonds, which a benevolent power had
loosened, and the angel of light stood before him. But his enamoured
gaze had confounded the maiden: she blushed deeply, and, casting down
her eyes, repeated more gently than at first, "What does the gentleman
want?" With difficulty Peregrine stammered out, "Pray, does the
bookbinder Lemmerhirt live here?" Upon her replying that he did, but
that he was now gone out upon business, Peregrine talked confusedly of
bindings which he had ordered, of books which Lemmerhirt was to procure
for him, till at last he came somewhat more to himself, and spoke of a
splendid copy of Ariosto, which was to have been bound in red morocco
with golden filleting. At this, it was as if a sudden electric spark
had shot through the maiden; she clasped her hands, and, with tears in
her eyes, exclaimed, "Then you are Mr. Tyss?" At the same time she made
a motion as if she would have seized his hand, but suddenly drew back,
and a deep sigh seemed to relieve her full breast. A sweet smile beamed
on her face, like the lovely glow of morning, and she poured forth
thanks and blessings to Peregrine for his having been the benefactor of
her father and mother, and not only for this,--no--for his generosity,
his kindness, the manner of his making presents to the children, and
spreading joy and happiness amongst them. She quickly cleared her
father's arm-chair of the books, bound and unbound, with which it was
loaded, wheeled it forward, and pressed him to be seated, and then
presented to him the splendid Ariosto with sparkling eyes, well knowing
that this masterpiece of bookbinding would meet with Peregrine's
approbation.
Mr. Tyss took a few pieces of gold from his pocket, which, the maiden
seeing, hastily assured him that she did not know the price of the
work, and, therefore, could not take any payment; perhaps he would be
pleased to wait a few minutes for her father's return. It seemed to
Peregrine as if the unworthy metal melted into one lump in his hand,
and he pocketed the gold again, much faster than he had brought it out.
Upon his seating himself mechanically in the broad arm-chair, the
maiden reached after her own seat, and from instinctive politeness he
jumped up to fetch it, when, instead of the chair, he caught hold of
her hand, and, on gently pressing the treasure, he thought he felt a
scarcely perceptible return.
"Puss, puss, what are you doing?" suddenly cried Rose, breaking from
him, and picking up a skein of thread, which the cat held between her
fore-paws, beginning a most mystical web.
Peregrine was in a perfect tumult, and the words "Oh, princess!"
escaped him without his knowing how it happened. The maiden looked at
him in alarm, and he cried out in the softest and most melancholy tone,
"My dearest young lady!" Rose blushed, and said with maiden
bashfulness, "My parents call me Rose; pray, do the same, my dear Mr.
Tyss, for I too am one of the children, to whom you have shown so much
kindness, and by whom you are so highly honoured."
"Rose!" cried Peregrine, in a transport. He could have thrown himself
at her feet, and it was only with difficulty that he restrained
himself.
Rose now related--as she quietly went on with her work--how the war had
reduced her parents to distress, and how since that time she had lived
with an aunt in a neighbouring village, till a few weeks ago, when upon
the death of the old lady, she had returned home.
Peregrine heard only the sweet voice of Rose, without understanding the
words too well, and was not perfectly convinced of his being awake,
till Lemmerhirt entered the room, and gave him a hearty welcome. Soon
after the wife followed with the children, and as thoughts and feelings
are strangely blended in the mind of man, it happened now that
Peregrine, even in the midst of all his ecstasy, suddenly recollected
how the sullen Pepusch had blamed his presents to this very family. He
was particularly delighted to find that none of the children had made
themselves ill by his gifts, and the pride with which they pointed to a
glass case, where the toys were shining, proved that they looked upon
them as something extraordinary, never perhaps to recur. The Thistle,
in his ill-humour, was quite mistaken.
"Oh, Pepusch!" said Peregrine to himself, "no pure beam of love
penetrates thy distempered mind."--In this Peregrine again meant
something more than toys and sugar-plums.
Lemmerhirt approached Peregrine, and began to talk in an under-tone of
his Rose, elevating her, in the fulness of his heart, into a perfect
miracle. But what gave him the most delight was, that Rose had an
inclination for the noble art of bookbinding, and in the few weeks that
she had been with him had made uncommon advances in the decorative
parts, so that she was already much more dexterous than many an oaf of
an apprentice, who wasted gold and morocco for years, and set the
letters all awry, making them look like so many drunken peasants,
staggering out of an ale-house. In the exuberance of his delight, he
whispered to Peregrine quite confidentially, "It must out, Mr. Tyss, I
can't help it.--Do you know, that it was my Rose who gilded the
Ariosto?"
Upon hearing this, Peregrine hastily snatched up the book, as if
securing it before he was robbed of it by an enemy. Lemmerhirt took
this for a sign that Peregrine wished to go, and begged of him to stay
a few minutes longer, and this it was that reminded him at last of the
necessity of tearing himself away. He hastily paid his bill, and set
off home, dragging along the heavy quartos, as if they had been some
treasure.
On entering his house he was met by the old Alina, who pointed to
Swammerdamm's chamber with looks of fear and anxiety. The door was
open, and he saw Doertje Elverdink, sitting in an arm-chair, quite
stiff, with a face drawn up, as if it belonged to a corpse, already
laid in the grave. Just so stiff, so corpse-like sate before her
Pepusch, Swammerdamm, and Leuwenhock. The old woman exclaimed, "Is not
that a strange, ghastly spectacle? In this manner the three unhappy
beings have sate the whole day long, and eat nothing, and drink
nothing, and speak nothing, and scarcely fetch their breath."
Peregrine at first felt a slight degree of terror at this strange
spectacle, but, as he ascended the stairs, the spectral image was
completely swallowed up by the sea of pleasure, in which the delighted
Peregrine swam, since his seeing Rose. Wishes, dreams, hopes, were
agitating his mind, which he longed to unburthen to some friend; but
what friend had Peregrine besides the honest Master Flea? And to him he
wished to open his whole heart, to tell him all about Rose,--all in
fact that cannot very well be told. But he might call and coax as long
as he pleased,--no Master Flea would show himself; he was up and away:
at last, in the folds of his neckcloth, where Master Flea had been wont
to lodge upon his going abroad, Peregrine found, after a more careful
search, a tiny box, whereon was written:
"In this is the microscopic glass. If you look steadfastly into the box
with your left eye, the glass will immediately be in its pupil; when
you want to be freed from the instrument, you have only to gently
squeeze the pupil, holding your eye over the box, and the glass will
drop into it. I am busy in your service, and risk no little by it, but
for so kind a protector I would hazard any thing, as
"Your most devoted servant,
"MASTER FLEA."
Now here would be an excellent opportunity for a genuine romance-writer
to expatiate on the difference between lust and love, and, having
handled it sufficiently in theory, to illustrate it practically in the
person of Mr. Tyss. Much might be said of sensual desires, of the curse
of the primal sin, and of the heavenly Promethean spark, which in love
inflames that true community of spirit of the two sexes, which forms
the actual necessary dualism of nature. Should now the aforesaid
Promethean spark--but the reader will perhaps be glad to escape the
rest of this dissertation, though he may rest assured there is much in
it, whereby he might have been edified, had he been so inclined.
It must be evident to all, that Peregrine only felt desire for Doertje
Elverdink, but that, when he saw Rose Lemmerhirt, the real heavenly
love blazed in his bosom. Little thanks, however, would be due to the
editor of this most wonderful of all wonderful tales, if, adhering to
the stiff, formal pace of renowned romancers, he could not forbear in
this place exciting the weariness essentially requisite to a legitimate
romance.--No; let us go to the point at once: sighs, lamentations,
joys, pains, kisses, blisses, are all united in the focus of the
moment, when the lovely Rose, with the crimson of maiden modesty
upon her cheeks, confesses to the enraptured Peregrine that she
loves him--that she cannot express how much, how immeasurably she loves
him,--that she lives in him only,--that he is her only thought, her
only joy.
But the crafty demon is wont to thrust his dark claws into the sunniest
moments of life,--nay, to utterly obscure that sunshine by the shadow
of his baleful presence. Thus it happened that evil doubts arose in
Peregrine, and his breast was filled with suspicions. A voice seemed to
whisper to him, "How! Doertje Elverdink confessed her love, and yet it
was mere selfishness, animated by which, she sought to tempt you into
breaking your faith and becoming a traitor to your best friend, poor
Master Flea! You are rich; they say too that a certain frankness and
good-nature, by many called weakness, may procure you the doubtful love
of men and even of women, and she, who now confesses a passion for
you,"--He hastily snatched at the fate-fraught box, and was on the
point of opening it to place the microscopic glass in the pupil of his
eye, and thus reading the thoughts of Rose, but he looked up, and the
pure blue of her bright eyes seemed to be reflected on his inmost soul.
Rose saw and wondered at his emotion.
He felt as if a sudden flash of lightning had quivered through him, and
the feeling of his own unworthiness overwhelmed him.
"How!" said he to himself,--"would you with sinful presumption
penetrate into the sanctuary of this angel? Would you read thoughts,
which have nothing in common with the wretched actions of minds
entangled in earthly considerations? Would you mock the spirit of love
himself, and try him with the accursed arts of dangerous and
supernatural powers?"