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 keyhole, 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!”
In these painful meditations he was disturbed by a modest knocking at his door, and the person who entered was none other than his lodger. The ancient Mr. Swammer, at other times a shrivelled, misanthropic, grumbling man, seemed suddenly to have become twenty years younger. His forehead was smooth, his eye animated, his mouth friendly: instead of the odious black periwig he wore his natural silver hair, and in the place of the dark-gray upper coat, he had on a sable, such as Aline had before described him. With a cheerful and even friendly mien, by no means usual with him, he came up to Peregrine, protesting that he did not wish to disturb his dear host in any occupation, but his duty as a lodger required that he should the first thing in the morning inform his landlord he had been under the necessity of giving refuge to a helpless damsel, who sought to escape from the tyranny of a cruel uncle, and would therefore pass some time in the house. For this he needed the permission of his kind host, which he now requested.
Involuntarily Peregrine inquired who the lady was, without reflecting that this in fact was the best question he could ask to get a clue to the strange mystery.
“It is just and proper,” replied Swammer, “that the landlord should know whom he is lodging in his house. Learn then, my respected Mr. Tyss, that the damsel, who has taken refuge with me, is none other than the fair Hollandress, Dörtje Elverdink, niece of the celebrated Leeuwenhoek, who, as you know, gives here the wonderful microscopic exhibitions. Leeuwenhoek was once my friend, but I must acknowledge that he is a hard man, and uses my goddaughter cruelly. A violent affair, which took place yesterday, compelled the maiden to flight, and it seems natural enough that she should seek help and refuge with me.”
“Dörtje Elverdink!” said Peregrine, half dreaming, “Leeuwenhoek! Perhaps a descendant of the naturalist, Antonie van Leeuwenhoek, who made the celebrated microscopes.”
“That our Leeuwenhoek,” replied Swammer, smiling, “is a descendant of that celebrated man, I cannot exactly say, seeing that he is the celebrated man himself, and it is a mere fable that he was buried about two hundred years ago at Delft. Believe it, my dear Mr. Tyss, or else you might doubt that I am the renowned Swammerdam, although, for the sake of shortness and that I may not
