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blessedness of Heaven.”

With a cry of joy and hope, the lovers started up, and Peregrine pressed them strongly to his glowing heart. When he released them, they fell, transported, into each others arms; the corpse-like paleness had vanished from their brows, and the freshness of youth bloomed on their cheeks and sparkled in their eyes.

Master Flea, who had hitherto stood by the throne with all the gravity of a guard of honour, suddenly resumed his natural shape, and with a vigorous spring he leaped upon Dörtje’s neck, crying out, in a shrill voice, “Old love never changes.”

But, oh wonder! in the same moment, Rose lay upon Peregrine’s breast, in all her youthful beauty, beaming with the purest love, like a cherub from Heaven.

And now the branches of the cedars rustled, the flowers lifted their heads more loftily, soft melodies poured from the bushes, and the thousand voices of delight rose from earth, and air, and water.

Mr. Peregrine Tyss had purchased a handsome villa in the vicinity of the city, and here on the same day was to be celebrated the double marriage of himself with Rose, and his friend George Pepusch with the little Dörtje Elverdink.

The kind reader will excuse my entering into the details of the nuptial feast and ceremonies. For my part I am willing to leave it to my fair readers to settle the dress of the two brides according to their own fancy. It is only to be observed that Peregrine and his beautiful Rose were all simple delight, while George and Dörtje, on the contrary, were meditative, and with mutual gaze seemed to have thoughts, eyes, and ears for each other only.

It was midnight, when suddenly the balsamic odours of the large-blossomed thistle spread through the whole garden.

Peregrine awoke from sleep. He fancied that he heard the plaintive melody of hopeless desire, and a strange foreboding got possession of him. It seemed to him as if a friend were violently torn from him.

The next morning the second bridal pair was missing, namely, George Pepusch and Dörtje Elverdink; what added not a little to the general astonishment was that they had not at all entered the bridal chamber.

In this moment of doubt, the gardener came and exclaimed, “He did not know what to think of it, but a strange wonder had happened in the garden. Throughout the whole night he had dreamt of the blooming Cactus grandiflorus, and not till now discovered the cause of it. They should only come and see!”

Peregrine and Rose went into the garden. In the middle of a clump of flowers a lofty thistle had shot up, which drooped its withering blossom beneath the morning sun; about this a variegated tulip wound itself, and that also had died a vegetable death.

“Oh, my foreboding!” cried Peregrine, while his voice trembled with sadness. “Oh, my foreboding! it has not deceived me. The beams of the carbuncle, which have kindled me to the highest life, have given death to thee, thou sweet pair, united by the strange discords of opposing powers. The mystery is revealed: the highest moment of gratified desire was also the moment of thy death.”

Rose too seemed to have a foreboding of the wonder; she bent over the poor perished tulip, and shed a stream of tears.

“You are quite right,” said Master Flea, who suddenly appeared in his microscopic form on the top of the thistle, “You are quite right, my dear Mr. Peregrine. It is all as you have said, and I have lost my beloved forever.”

Rose was at first somewhat frightened at the little creature, but seeing that he gazed on her with such friendly, intelligent eyes, and Peregrine spoke so familiarly with him, she took heart, looked boldly on his graceful tiny form, and gained so much the more confidence in him as Peregrine whispered to her, “this is my kind Master Flea.”

“My good Peregrine,” said Master Flea very tenderly, “My dear lady, I must now leave you, and return to my people; yet I shall always be your devoted friend, and you shall constantly experience my presence in a way that will be agreeable to you. Farewell! heartily farewell to both of you. And all good fortune be with you.”

During this he had resumed his natural form, and vanished without leaving a single trace behind.

Here the records suddenly break off, and the wonderful history of Master Flea comes to a joyous and⁠—wished-for⁠—end.

Endnotes

The Blocksberg, or Brocken, is the name of the highest part of the Hartz mountains, where the German witches celebrate their saturnalia. —⁠Translator ↩

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Master Flea
was published in 1822 by
E. T. A. Hoffmann.
It was translated from German in 1826 by
George Soane.

This ebook was produced for
Standard Ebooks
by
Jared Updike,
and is based on a transcription produced in 2010 by
Charles Bowen and The Online Distributed Proofreading Team
for
Project Gutenberg
and on digital scans available at the
Internet Archive.

The cover page is adapted from
Portrait of Antonie van Leeuwenhoek,
a painting completed circa 1673 by
Jan Verkolje.
The cover and title pages feature the
League Spartan and Sorts Mill Goudy
typefaces created in 2014 and 2009 by
The League of Moveable Type.

The first edition of this ebook was released on
July 24, 2017, 8:46 p.m.
You can check for updates to this ebook, view its revision history, or download it for different ereading systems at
standardebooks.org/ebooks/e-t-a-hoffmann/master-flea/george-soane.

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