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

industrious man, had long worked for him, and whose three children he was well acquainted with.

The bookbinder, Lemmerhirt, lived in the top floor of a narrow house in the Kalbecher Street, and as the winter storm howled and raged, and the rain and snow fell with mingled violence, it may be easily imagined that Peregrine did not get to his object without great difficulty. From the window twinkled down a couple of miserable tapers; with no little toil he clambered up the steep stairs, knocked at the door, and called out, “Open! Open! Christmas sends his presents to all good children.”

The bookbinder opened the door in alarm, and it was not till after some consideration that he recognised Peregrine, who was quite covered with snow.

“Worshipful Mr. Tyss!” he exclaimed, full of wonder. “How in the name of Heaven do I come to such an honour on Christmas Eve?”

Worshipful Mr. Tyss, however, would not let him finish, but calling out, “Children! Children! Alert! Christmas sends his presents!” he took possession of the flap-table in the middle of the room, and immediately began to pull out his presents from the basket. (The great Christmas tree, indeed, which was dripping wet, he had been forced to leave outside the door.) Still the bookbinder could not comprehend what it all meant. The wife, however, knew better, for she smiled at Peregrine, with silent tears, while the children stood at a distance, devouring with their eyes each gift as it came out of the cover, and often unable to refrain from a loud cry of joy and wonder. At last he had dexterously divided, and ordered the presents according to each child’s age, lighted all the tapers, and cried, “Come, come, children! this is what Christmas sends you.” They, who could yet hardly believe that all belonged to them, now shouted aloud, and leaped, and rejoiced, while their parents prepared to thank their benefactor. But it was precisely this thanksgiving that Peregrine always sought to avoid, and he therefore wished, as usual, to take himself off quietly. With this view he had got to the door, when it suddenly opened, and in the bright shine of the Christmas lights stood before him a young female, splendidly attired.

It seldom turns out well, when an author undertakes to describe narrowly to the reader the appearance of this or that beautiful personage of his tale⁠—showing the shape, the growth, the carriage, the hair, the colour of the eyes; it seems much better to give the whole person at once, without these details. Here, too, it would be quite enough to state that the lady, who ran against the startled Peregrine, was uncommonly handsome and graceful, if it were not absolutely requisite to speak of certain peculiarities which the little creature had about her.

She was small, and, indeed, somewhat too small, but, at the same time, neatly and elegantly proportioned. Her forehead, in other respects handsomely formed and full of expression, acquired something strange and singular from the unusual size of the eyeballs, and from the dark pencilly brows being higher placed than ordinary. The little thing was dressed, or rather decorated, as if she had just come from a ball. A splendid diadem glittered amongst her raven locks, rich point lace only half veiled her bosom, a black- and yellow-striped dress of heavy silk sat close upon her slender body, and fell down in folds just so low as to let the neatest little feet be seen, in white shoes, while the sleeves were just long enough, and the gloves just short enough, to show the fairest part of a dazzling arm. A rich necklace, and brilliant earrings, completed her attire.

It could not but be that the bookbinder was as much surprised as Peregrine, that the children abandoned their playthings, and stared with open mouths at the stranger. As, however, women in general are wont to be the least astonished at anything unusual, and are the quickest to collect themselves, so, on this occasion also, the bookbinder’s wife was the first that recovered speech, and asked, “In what she could serve the lady?”

Upon this the stranger came fairly into the room, and the frightened Peregrine would have seized the opportunity to take himself quickly off, but she caught him by both hands, lisping out, in a little soft voice, “Fortune, then, has favoured me! I have found you, then! O Peregrine, my dear Peregrine, what a delightful meeting!” Herewith she raised her right hand, so that it touched Peregrine’s lips, and he was compelled to kiss it, though, in so doing, the cold drops of perspiration stood on his forehead. She now, indeed, let go his hands, and he might have fled, but he felt himself spellbound; he could not move from the place, like some poor little animal that has been fascinated by the eye of the rattlesnake.

“Allow me,” she said, “dear Peregrine, to share in this charming treat that you have so nobly, and with such real goodness, prepared for the children. Permit me, also, to contribute something to it!”

From a little basket which hung upon her arm, and which had not been remarked till now, she took out all sorts of playthings, arranged them on the table with graceful bustle, brought forward the children, pointed out to each the present intended for him, and sported so prettily withal, that nothing could be more delightful. The bookbinder thought he was in a dream, but the wife laughed roguishly, fancying that there must be some particular acquaintance between Peregrine and the stranger.

While now the parents were wondering, and the children were rejoicing, the lady took her seat upon an old frail sofa, and drew down Mr. Peregrine, who, in fact, scarcely knew any longer whether he actually was this same person. She then gently lisped into his ear, “My dear, dear Peregrine, how happy, how delighted I feel by your side!”

“But, lady,” stammered Peregrine, “honoured lady⁠—” On a sudden, Heaven knows how, the lips of the stranger came so close