Master Flea - E. T. A. Hoffmann (love letters to the dead .TXT) 📗

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, Legénie. 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 Legénie, and this the Douanier, Monsieur Leech."

"Ballet-master Legénie! 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 Legénie! 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, Legénie, 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