shly, by introducing some indifferent matter, to the no small
annoyance of Nathaniel. He thought that such deep secrets were closed
to cold, unsusceptible minds, without being clearly aware that he
reckoned Clara among these subordinate natures, and therefore he
constantly endeavoured to initiate her into the mysteries. In the
morning, when Clara was getting breakfast ready, he stood by her, and
read out of all sorts of mystical books, till she cried: "But, dear
Nathaniel, suppose I blame you as the evil principle, that has a
hostile effect upon my coffee? For if to please you, I leave every
thing standing still, and look in your eyes, while you read, my coffee
will run into the fire, and none of you will get any breakfast."

Nathaniel closed the book at once, and hurried indignantly to his
chamber. Once he had a remarkable _forte_ for graceful, lively tales,
which he wrote down, and to which Clara listened with the greatest
delight; now, his creations were gloomy, incomprehensible, formless, so
that although Clara, out of compassion, did not say so, he plainly felt
how little she was interested. Nothing was more insupportable to Clara
than tediousness; in her looks and in her words a mental drowsiness,
not to be conquered, was expressed. Nathaniel's productions were,
indeed, very tedious. His indignation at Clara's cold, prosaic
disposition, constantly increased, and Clara could not overcome her
dislike of Nathaniel's dark, gloomy, tedious mysticism, so that they
became more and more estranged from each other in mind, without
perceiving it. The form of the ugly Coppelius, as Nathaniel himself
was forced to confess, grew more dim in his fancy, and it often cost
him trouble to colour with sufficient liveliness in his pictures, when
he appeared as a ghastly bugbear of fate. At last it struck him that
he would make the gloomy foreboding, that Coppelius would destroy his
happiness in love, the subject of a poem. He represented himself and
Clara as united by true love; but occasionally it seemed as though a
black hand darted into their life, and tore away some newly-springing
joy. At last, while they were standing at the altar, the hideous
Coppelius appeared, and touched Clara's lively eyes. They flashed into
Nathaniel's heart, like bleeding sparks, scorching and burning, when
Coppelius caught him, and flung him into a flaming, fiery circle, which
flew round with the swiftness of the stream, and carried him along