"As soon as I was free, Leuwenhock lost all power over my people, who immediately slipt away, and in mockery left the tyrant peppercorns, fruitstones, and such like, in their clothes. Again, then, my hearty thanks, kind, noble Mr. Peregrine, for the great benefit you have done me, and which I know as well as any one how to estimate. Permit me, as a free man, to remain a little time with you; I can be useful to you in many important affairs of your life beyond what you may expect. To be sure there might be danger if you should become enamoured of the fair one,——"

  "What do you say?" interrupted Peregrine; "what do you say, Master? I, I enamoured!"

  "Even so;" continued Master Flea: "think of my terror, of my anxiety, when you entered yesterday with the princess in your arms, glowing with passion, and she employing every seductive art—as she well knows how—to persuade you to surrender me. Ah, then I perceived your nobleness in its full extent, when you remained immoveable, dexterously feigning as if you knew nothing of my being with you, as if you did not even understand what the princess wanted."

  "And that was precisely the truth of the matter," said Peregrine, interrupting Master Flea anew. "You are attributing things as a merit to me, of which I had not the slightest suspicion. In the shop where I bought the toys, I neither saw you nor the fair damsel, who sought me at the bookbinder's, and whom you are strangely pleased to call the Princess Gamaheh. It was quite unknown to me, that amongst the boxes, where I expected to find leaden soldiers, there was an empty one in which you were lurking; and how could I possibly guess that you were the prisoner whom the pretty child was requiring with such impetuosity?—Don't be whimsical, Master Flea, and dream of things, of which I had not the slightest conception."

  "Ah," replied Master Flea, "you would dexterously avoid my thanks, kind Mr. Peregrine; and this gives me, to my great consolation, a farther lively proof of your noble way of thinking. Learn, generous man, that all the efforts of Leuwenhock and Gamaheh to regain me are fruitless, so long as you afford me your protection: you must voluntarily give me up to my tormentors; all other means are to no purpose—Mr. Peregine Tyss, you are in love!"

  "Do not talk so!" exclaimed Peregrine. "Do not call by the name of love a foolish momentary ebullition, which is already past."

  Peregrine felt the colour rushing up into his cheeks and forehead, and giving him the lie. He crept under the bed-clothes. Master Flea continued:

  "It is not to be wondered at if you were unable to resist the surprising charms of the princess, especially as she employed many dangerous arts to captivate you. Nor is the storm yet over. The malicious little thing will put in practice many a trick to catch you in her love-toils, as, indeed, every woman can, without exactly being a Princess Gamaheh. She will try to get you so completely in her power, that you shall only live for her and her wishes, and then—woe to me! It will come to this question:—is your nobleness strong enough to conquer your passion, or will you prefer yielding to Gamaheh's wishes, and thus replunging into misery not only your little protegé, but the whole people whom you have released from a wretched slavery?—or, again, will you resist the allurements of a treacherous creature, and thus confirm my happiness and that of my subjects? Oh that you would promise me the last!—that you could!——"

  "Master," replied Peregrine, drawing the bed-clothes away from his face,—"dear Master, you are right: nothing is more dangerous than the temptations of women; they are all false, all malicious; they play with us as cats with mice, and for our tenderest exertions we reap nothing but contempt and mockery. Hence it is that formerly a cold deathlike perspiration used to stand upon my brow as soon as any woman-creature approached me, and I myself believe that there must be something peculiar about the fair Alina, or Princess Gamaheh, as you will have it, although, with my plain human reason, I do not comprehend all that you are saying, but rather feel as if I were in some wild dream, or reading the Thousand and One Nights. Be all this, however, as it may, you have put yourself under my protection, dear Master, and nothing shall persuade me to deliver you up to your enemies; as to the seductive maiden, I will not see her again. This I promise solemnly, and would give my hand upon it, had you one to receive it and return the honourable pledge."

  With this Peregrine stretched out his arm far upon the bed-clothes.

  "Now," exclaimed the little Invisible,—"now I am quite consoled, quite at ease. If I have no hand to offer you, at least permit me to prick you in the right thumb, partly to testify my extreme satisfaction, and partly to seal our bond of friendship more assuredly."

  At the same moment Peregrine felt in the thumb of his right hand a bite, which smarted so sensibly, as to prove it could have come only from the first Master of all the fleas.

  "You bite like a little devil!" cried Peregrine.

  "Take it," replied Master Flea, "as a lively token of my honourable intentions. But it is fit that I should offer to you, as a pledge of my gratitude, a gift which belongs to the most extraordinary productions of art. It is nothing else than a microscope, made by a very dexterous optician of my people, while he was in Leuwenhock's service. The instrument will appear somewhat small to you, for, in reality, it is about a hundred and twenty times smaller than a grain of sand; but its use will not allow of any peculiar greatness. It is this: I place the glass in the pupil of your left eye, and this eye immediately becomes microscopic. As I wish to surprise you with the effect of it, I will say no more about it for the present, and will only entreat that I may be permitted to perform the microscopic operation whenever I see that it will do you any important service.—And now sleep well, Mr. Peregrine; you have need of rest."

  Peregrine, in reality, fell asleep, and did not awake till full morning, when he heard the well-known scratching of old Alina's broom; she was sweeping out the next room. A little child, who was conscious of some mischief, could not tremble more at his mother's rod than Mr. Peregrine trembled in the fear of the old woman's reproaches. At length she came in with the coffee. Peregrine glanced at her through the bed-curtains, which he had drawn close, and was not a little surprised at the clear sunshine which overspread the old woman's face.

  "Are you still asleep, my dear Mr. Tyss?" she asked in one of the softest tones of which her voice was capable; and Peregrine, taking courage, answered just as softly,

  "No, my dear Alina: lay the breakfast upon the table; I will get up directly."

  But, when he did really rise, it seemed to him as if the sweet breath of the creature, who had lain in his arms, was waving through the chamber—he felt so strangely and so anxiously. He would have given all the world to know what had become of the mystery of his passion; for, like this mystery itself, the fair one had appeared and vanished.

  While he was in vain endeavouring to drink his coffee and eat his toast,—every morsel of which was bitter in his mouth,—Alina entered, and busied herself about this and that, murmuring all the time to herself—"Strange! incredible! What things one sees! Who would have thought it?"

  Peregrine, whose heart beat so strongly that he could bear it no longer, asked, "What is so strange, dear Alina?"

  "All manner of things! all manner of things!" replied the old woman, laughing cunningly, while she went on with her occupation of setting the rooms to rights. Peregrine's breast was ready to burst, and he involuntarily exclaimed, in a tone of languishing pain,—"Ah! Alina!"

  "Yes, Mr. Tyss, here I am; what are your commands?" replied Alina, spreading herself out before Peregrine, as if in expectation of his orders.

  Peregrine stared at the copper face of the old woman, and all his fears were lost in the disgust which filled him on the sudden. He asked in a tolerably harsh tone,—

  "What has become of the strange lady who was here yesterday evening? Did you open the door for her? Did you look to a coach for her, as I ordered? Was she taken home?"

  "Open doors!" said the old woman with an abominable grin, which she intended for a sly laugh—"Look to a coach! taken home!—There was no need of all this:—the fair damsel is in the house, and won't leave the house for the present."

  Peregrine started up in joyful alarm; and she now proceeded to tell him how, when the lady was leaping down the stairs in a way that almost stunned her, Mr. Swammer stood below, at the door of his room, with an immense branch-candlestick in his hand. The old gentleman, with a profusion of bows, contrary to his usual custom, invited the lady into his apartment, and she slipt in without any hesitation, and her host locked and bolted the door.

  The conduct of the misanthropic Swammer was too strange for Alina not to listen at the door, and peep a little through the keyhole. She then saw him standing in the middle of the room, and talking so wisely and pathetically to the lady, that she herself had wept, though she had not understood a single word, he having spoken in a foreign language. She could not think otherwise than that the old gentleman had laboured to bring her back to the paths of virtue, for his vehemence had gradually increased, till the damsel at last sank upon her knees and kissed his hand with great humility: she had even wept a little. Upon this he lifted her up very kindly, kissed her forehead,—in doing which he was forced to stoop terribly,—and then led her to an arm-chair. He next busied himself in making a fire, brought some spices, and, as far as she could perceive, began to mull some wine. Unluckily the old woman had just then taken snuff, and sneezed aloud; upon which Swammer, stretching out his arm to the door, exclaimed with a terrible voice, that went through the marrow of her bones, "Away with thee, listening Satan!"—She knew not how she had got off and into her bed; but in the morning, upon opening her eyes, she fancied she saw a spectre; for before her stood Mr. Swammer in a handsome sable-fur, with gold buckles, his hat on his head, his stick in his hand.

  "My good Mistress Alina," he said, "I must go out on important business, and perhaps may not return for many hours. Take care, therefore, that there is no noise on my floor, and that no one ventures to enter my room. A lady of rank, and—I may tell you,—a very handsome princess, has taken refuge with me. Long ago, at the court of her father, I was her governor; therefore she has confidence in me, and I must and will protect her against all evil machinations. I tell you this, Mistress Alina, that you may show the lady the respect which belongs to her rank. With Mr. Tyss's permission she will be waited on by you, for which attendance you will be royally rewarded, provided you are silent, and do not betray the princess' abode to any one." So saying, Mr. Swammer had immediately gone off.

  Peregrine now asked the old woman, if it did not seem strange that the lady, whom he could swear he met at the bookbinder's, should be a princess, seeking refuge with old Swammer? But she protested that she believed his words rather than her own eyes, and was therefore of opinion that all, which had happened at the bookbinder's or in the chamber, was either a magical illusion, or that the terror and anxiety of the flight had led the princess into so strange an adventure. For the rest, she would soon learn all from the lady herself.

  "But," objected Peregrine, in reality only to continue the conversation about the lady, "but where is the suspicion, the evil opinion, you had of her yesterday?"

  "Ah," replied the old woman simpering, "that is all over. One need only look at the dear creature to be convinced she is a princess, and as beautiful withal as ever was princess. When Swammer had gone, I could not help looking to see what she was about, and peeping a little through the key-hole. There she lay stretched out upon the sofa, her angel head leaning upon her hand, so that the raven locks poured through the little white fingers, a beautiful sight! Her dress was of silver tissue, through which the bosom and the arms were visible, and on her feet she had golden slippers. One had fallen off, and showed that she wore no stockings, so that the naked foot peeped forth from under the garments. But, my good Mr. Tyss, she is no doubt still lying on the sofa; and if you will take the trouble of peeping through the key-hole——"

  "What do you say?" interrupted Peregrine with vehemence; "what do you say? Shall I expose myself to her seductive sight, which might urge me into all manner of follies?"

  "Courage, Peregrine! resist the temptation!" lisped a voice close beside him, which he instantly recognised for that of Master Flea.

  The old woman laughed mysteriously, and after a few minutes' silence said,—"I will tell you the whole matter, as it seems to me. Whether the strange lady be a princess or not, thus much is certain, that she is of rank and rich, and that Mr. Swammer has taken up her cause warmly, and must have been long acquainted with her. And why did she run after you, dear Mr. Tyss? I say, because she is desperately in love with you, and love makes people blind and mad, and leads even princesses into the strangest and most inconsiderate follies. A gipsy prophesied to your late mother that you would one day be happy in a marriage when you least expected it. Now it is coming true."

  And with this the old woman began again describing how beautiful the lady looked. It may be easily supposed that Peregrine felt overwhelmed. At last he broke out with, "Silence, I pray you, of such things. The lady in love with me! How silly! how absurd!"

  "Umph!" said the old woman; "if that were not the case she would not have sighed so piteously, she would not have exclaimed so lamentably, 'no, my dear Peregrine, my sweet friend, you will not, you cannot be cruel to me. I shall see you again, and enjoy all the happiness of heaven.'—And our old Mr. Swammer! she has quite changed him. Did I ever use to get any thing of him but a paltry sixpence for a Christmas-box? And now he gave me this morning a crown, with such a kind look—no common thing with him—as a douceur beforehand for my services to the lady. There's something in it all. I'll lay you any thing that in the end Mr. Swammer is her ambassador to you."

  And again the old woman began to speak of the grace and loveliness of the lady with an animation that sounded strange enough in the mouth of a withered creature like herself, till Peregrine jumped up all fire and fury, and cried out like a madman, "Be it as it will—down, down to the key-hole!" In vain he was warned by Master Flea, who sate in the neckcloth of the enamoured Peregrine, and had hid himself in a fold. Peregrine did not hear his voice, and Master Flea learnt, what he ought to have known long before, namely, that something may be done with the most obstinate man, but not with a lover.

  The lady did, indeed, lie on the sofa, just as the old woman had described, and Peregrine found that no mortal language was adequate to the expression of the heavenly charms which overspread the lovely figure. Her dress, of real silver tissue, with strange embroidery, was quite fantastic, and might do very well for the negligee of the princess, Gamaheh, which she had perhaps worn in Famagusta, at the very moment of her being kissed to death by the malicious Leech-Prince. At all events it was so beautiful, and so exceedingly strange, that the idea of it could never have come from the head of the most genial theatrical tailor, nor have been conceived by the sublimest milliner.

  "Yes, it is she! it is the Princess Gamaheh!" murmured Peregrine, trembling with anxiety and pleasure. But when the fair one sighed, "Peregrine! my Peregrine!" the full madness of the passion seized him, and it was only an unnameable anxiety, robbing him of all self-possession, that prevented him from breaking in the door, and throwing himself at the feet of the angel.

  The friendly reader knows already how it was with the fascinations, the celestial beauty, of the little Dörtje Elverdink. The editor, however, may safely declare, that, after he too had peeped through the key-hole, and seen the fair one in her fantastic dress of tissue, he can say nothing more than that Dörtje Elverdink was a very pretty little puppet. But as no young man can possibly be in love, for the first time, with any but an angel, without her equal on earth, it may be allowed also to Mr. Peregrine Tyss to look upon Dörtje Elverdink as something celestial.

  "Recollect yourself, my dear Mr. Tyss; think of your promise. You would never see the seductive Gamaheh again, and now I could put the microscopic glass into your eye, but without such help you must perceive that the malicious creature has long observed you, and that all she is doing is only deceit, to seduce you. Believe me, I mean it well with you." So whispered Master Flea in the fold of his collar; but, whatever doubts might arise in Mr. Peregrine's mind, he could not tear himself away from the fascinating sight of the little one, who knew well how to use the advantage of being supposed to fancy herself alone; flinging herself into all manner of voluptuous attitudes, she put the poor Peregrine quite beside himself.

  He would most likely have been still fixed at the door, had it not been for a loud ringing, and Alina's crying out that Swammer had returned. Upon this he hurried up the stairs into his chamber, where he gave himself up to his love-thoughts, but with these thoughts returned the doubts which had been raised in his breast by the admonitions of Master Flea. There was, indeed, a flea in his ear, and he fell into all manner of disquieting meditations. He thought to himself, "Must I not believe that this lovely creature is the Princess Gamaheh, the daughter of a mighty king? But if this be the case, it is folly, madness, to aspire to the possession of so exalted a personage. Then too she has begged the surrender of a prisoner, on whom her life depends; and as this exactly agrees with what Master Flea has said, I can hardly doubt that all, which I would interpret into affection for me, is only a mean to subject me to her will. And yet to leave her!—to lose her!—that is hell! that is death!"

 

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