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Reading books fiction Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself.



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Read books online » Fiction » Master Flea by E. T. A. Hoffmann (classic novels to read .TXT) 📖

Book online «Master Flea by E. T. A. Hoffmann (classic novels to read .TXT) 📖». Author E. T. A. Hoffmann



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cousin? I wanted to make him blush and stammer, and formerly he used to run away from every girl; but now he stands and eyes me so strangely, and kisses my hand without the least shyness. If he should be in love with me? That would be a fine thing! My mother says that he is somewhat stupid, but what does that signify? I will have him: a stupid man, when he is rich, as my cousin is, is the very best." The sister had merely lisped, with downcast eyes and blushing cheeks, "Come to us shortly, dear cousin." The thoughts ran thus:--"Our cousin is a very handsome man, and I do not understand why mamma calls him silly, and can't endure him. If he should come to our house, he will fall in love with me, for I am the prettiest girl in all Frankfort. I will have him, because I want a rich man, that I may sleep till twelve o'clock in the day, and wear dearer shawls than my sister."

A physician, in passing, perceived Peregrine, stopped his carriage, and called out, "Good morning, my dear sir; you look uncommonly well; heaven keep you so! But, if any thing should happen, think of me, the old friend of your late father: such sound constitutions as yours I can soon set to rights. Adieu." The thoughts ran thus:--"I believe the fellow is constantly well out of pure avarice; but he looks tolerably pale now, and seems at last to have something the matter with him. Well; only let him once come under my hands, and he shall not soon get up from his bed again; he shall undergo a sound penance for his obstinate health."

Immediately after this, an old merchant cried out to him, "My best greetings to you, worthy Mr. Tyss; see how I am forced to run and bustle, and plague myself with business. You have done wisely in withdrawing from it, though with your quicksightedness you could not fail of doubling your father's fortune." The thoughts were thus:--"If the fool would only meddle with business, he would speculate away his whole fortune in a short time, and that would be a real delight. His old papa, whose joy was in ruining other people that wished to help themselves by a little bankruptcy, would turn himself about in his grave."

Many more such cutting contrasts between words and thoughts occurred to Peregrine. He always directed his answers rather by what people meant than by what they said, and, as he penetrated into their inmost intents, they themselves were puzzled what to think of him. At last he felt wearied, snapped his fingers, and immediately the glass vanished from the pupil of his left eye.

On returning to his house he was surprised by a strange spectacle. A man stood in the middle of the passage, looking steadfastly through a strangely-formed glass at Mr. Swammer's door. Upon this door sun-bright circles played in rainbow colours, and then met in one fiery point, that seemed to pierce through the wood. As this took place a deep sighing was heard, broken by cries of pain, which came, as it appeared, from the room. To his horror, Peregrine fancied that he distinguished Gamaheh's voice.

"What do you want? what are you doing here?" he exclaimed to the man, who really seemed to be practising diabolic arts, the rainbow circles growing with every moment quicker and brighter, the centre-point piercing more keenly, and the cries sounding more painfully from the chamber.

"Oh!" exclaimed the stranger, closing his glass, and hastily putting it into his pocket,--"Oh! the landlord. Your pardon, my dear sir, that I am operating here without your permission; I did indeed pay you a visit to request it, but Alina told me you had gone out, and the business here would admit of no delay."

"What business?" said Peregrine, pretty harshly; "what business is it that will admit of no delay?"

"Don't you know," replied the stranger with an odious grin, "don't you know that my ill-advised niece, Dörtje Elverdink, has run away? You were arrested, though with great injustice, as her seducer, on which score I will with great pleasure testify your perfect innocence, if it should be requisite. It is not to you, but to Swammerdamm, once my friend, and now my enemy, that the faithless Dörtje has fled. She is in that chamber--I know it--and alone, since Swammerdamm has gone out. I cannot get in, as the door is barred and bolted, and I am too mild to employ force; but I have taken the liberty to torment her a little with my optical glass, that she may know I am her lord and master in spite of her imaginary princess-ship."

"You are the devil!" exclaimed Peregrine, in the highest indignation,--"you are the devil! but not lord and master of the beautiful Gamaheh. Out of my house! Practise your devil's tricks where you will, but here you will fail with them, I can promise you."

"Don't put yourself in a passion," replied Leuwenhock; "don't put yourself in a passion, my dear Mr. Tyss; I am an innocent man, who mean nothing but good. It is a little monster, a little basilisk, that sits in yonder room, in the shape of a lovely woman. If the abode with my insignificance displeased her, she might have fled; but the traitress should not have robbed me of my most precious treasure, the best friend of my soul, without whom I am nothing. She should not have run away with Master Flea. You will not understand what I mean, worthy sir, but----"

Here Master Flea, who had planted himself in a secure place, could not refrain from bursting out into a fine mocking laugh.

"Ha!" cried Leuwenhock, struck with a sudden terror, "ha! what was that? Can it be possible? Here, on this spot? Permit me, my dear sir--"

Thus saying, Leuwenhock stretched out his hand, and snatched at Peregrine's collar, who dexterously avoided his grasp, and, seizing him with a strong arm, dragged him towards the door, to fling him out without farther ado. But just as he had reached the door, it was opened from without, and in rushed George Pepusch, followed by Swammerdamm.

No sooner did Leuwenhock perceive his enemy Swammerdamm, than he burst from Peregrine with the utmost exertion of his last strength, and planted himself with his back against the door of the mysterious chamber, where the fair one was imprisoned. Swammerdamm, seeing this, took a little telescope from his pocket, drew it out at full length, and fell upon his adversary, exclaiming, "Draw, scoundrel, if you have courage!"

Leuwenhock had quickly a similar instrument in his hand, drew it out as the other had done, and cried, "Come on; I am ready, and you shall soon feel my prowess."

Each now put his glass to his eye, and fell furiously upon the other with sharp, murderous glances, now lengthening and now shortening his weapon by drawing the tubes in and out. There were feints, parries, thrusts, in short, all the tricks of the fencing-school, and with every moment they seemed to grow more angry. Whenever one was hit he cried out aloud, sprang into the air, cut the most wonderful capers, made the most beautiful entrechats, and turned pirouettes, as well as the best pas-de-seul dancer on the Parisian stage, till his adversary fixed him fast with the shortened telescope. When the other was hit he did precisely the same, and in this way they went on interchangeably with the most violent springs, the maddest gestures, and the most furious cries. The perspiration dropped from their brows, the blood-red eyes seemed starting from their heads, and as there appeared no other cause for their St. Vitus' dance than their looking at each other through their glasses, they might have been taken for maniacs, just escaped from the mad-house. For the rest, it was a very pretty sight.

Swammerdamm at last succeeded in driving Leuwenhock from his post by the door,--which he had maintained with obstinate bravery,--and thus carrying on the war in the remoter parts of the ground. George Pepusch saw the opportunity, pressed against the unoccupied door, that was neither barred nor bolted, and slipped into the chamber, but in the next moment he rushed out, exclaiming, "She has fled!--fled!" and then hurried out of the house with the rapidity of lightning.

Both Leuwenhock and Swammerdamm were seriously wounded, for both hopped and danced about after a mad fashion, and with their howlings and cryings made a music to it that seemed like the shrieks of the damned in hell. Peregrine knew not how to set about separating them, and thus ending a contest, which was as ludicrous as it was terrific. At last the combatants perceived that the door stood wide open, forgot their duel and their pains, put their destructive weapons into their pockets, and rushed into the chamber.

Mr. Tyss took it grievously to heart that the fair one had fled from his house, and wished the abominable Leuwenhock at the devil, when the voice of Alina was heard upon the stairs. She was laughing aloud, and muttered between, "What strange things one does see! Wonderful! incredible!"

"What?" cried Peregrine dejectedly, "what wonder has happened now?"

"Oh, my dear Mr. Tyss!" exclaimed the old woman, "only come up stairs directly, and go into your chamber."

And she opened the room-door with a cunning titter. On entering, O wonder! O joy! the little Dörtje Elverdink tripped up to him, in her dress of tissue, as he had before seen her at Mr. Swammer's.

"At length I see you again!" lisped the little one, and contrived to nestle up so closely to Peregrine, that he could not help embracing her most tenderly in spite of all his good resolutions. His senses seemed ecstacied by love and joy.

It has often happened to a man that in the height of his transports he has hit his nose somewhat roughly, and, being suddenly awakened out of his heaven by the earthly pain, has tumbled down again into the vulgar world. Just so it chanced with our Mr. Tyss. In stooping down to kiss Dörtje's sweet mouth, he gave his nose, of goodly dimensions, a hard blow against the diadem of shining brilliants, which the little one wore in her raven locks. The pain of the blow upon the sharp points of the stone brought him sufficiently to himself to perceive the diadem. The diadem reminded him of the Princess Gamaheh, and with this recollection recurred all that Master Flea had told him of the little syren. He bethought himself that a Princess, the daughter of a mighty king, could not possibly care about his love, and therefore all her pretended affection must be a mere trick, by which the dissembler hoped to regain possession of Master Flea. With this consideration a cold ice-stream seemed to rush through his veins, which, if it did not quite extinguish, at least damped, the love-flames.

Peregrine gently freed himself from the arms of the little one, who had lovingly embraced him, and said with downcast eyes, "Oh, heavens! you are the daughter of the mighty King Sekakis, the beautiful Gamaheh. Your pardon, princess, if a feeling, which I could not master, hurried me into folly, into madness. But yourself, lady,--"

"What are you saying, my fair friend?" interrupted Dörtje Elverdink; "I the daughter of a mighty king? I a princess? I am your Alina, who will love you to distraction, if you,--but how is this?--Alina, the queen of Golconda? she is already with you; I have spoken with her--a good kind woman, but she has grown old, and is no longer so handsome as in the time of her marriage with the French general. Woe is me! I am not the right one; I never ruled in Golconda. Woe is me!"

The little one had closed her

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