Master Flea - E. T. A. Hoffmann (thriller novels to read .txt) 📗

who fell into raptures upon everything, 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 bluestockings, 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 sat in a fold of his neckcloth, and Master Flea was of the 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 roué. 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 manoeuvre 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 Dörtje’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 disburdened of it. To everything 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 armchair, 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, Swammerdam and Leeuwenhoek, 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. Swammerdam and Leeuwenhoek had seized George Pepusch, and stroked 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 Dörtje 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