e, dressed himself, and, faithful to his intention, would
have gone to the bookbinder. In passing Swammerdamm's chamber, the door
was wide open, and,--he knew not how it happened,--he stood, leaning on
Swammerdamm's arm, close before Doertje Elverdink, who sent him a
hundred kisses, and with her silver voice cried out, joyfully, "Good
morning, my dear Peregrine!"--George Pepusch, too, was there, looking
out of the window and whistling. He now flung the window to with
violence, and turned round.

"Ha!" he exclaimed as if he had just then seen Peregrine--"ha! look!
You come to see your bride. That's all in order, and any third person
would only be in the way. I too will take myself off; but let me first
tell you, my good friend, Peregrine, that George Pepusch scorns every
gift which a compassionate friend would fling to him as if he were a
beggar. Cursed be every sacrifice! I will have nothing to thank you
for. Take the beautiful Gamaheh, who so warmly loves you; but take care
the Thistle, Zeherit, do not take root, and burst the walls of your
house."

George's voice and manner bordered upon brutality; and Peregrine was
filled with vexation, when he saw how much his whole conduct was
mistaken. Without concealing his disgust, he said,

"It never has entered into my head to cross you in your path, but the
madness of jealousy speaks out of you, or you would see how innocent I
am of all you have been brooding in your own soul. Do not ask of me to
kill the snake, which you have been nourishing in your breast for your
own torment; learn too, I gave _you_ no alms, I made _you_ no
sacrifice, in giving up the fair-one, and with her, perhaps, the
greatest blessing of my life. Other and higher duties, an irrevocable
promise, compelled me to it."

Pepusch, in the wildest wrath, raised his clenched hand against his
friend, when Gamaheh sprang between them, and, catching Peregrine's
arm, exclaimed,

"Let the foolish Thistle go; he has nothing but nonsense in his brain,
and, as is the way with thistles, is surly and obstinate without well
knowing what he means. You are mine, and remain mine,--mine own dearest
Peregrine."

Thus saying, the little-one drew Peregrine upon the sofa, and, without
farther ceremony, seated herself upon his knees. Pepusch, after having
sufficiently gnawed his nails, ran wildly out of the door.

Dressed again in the fairy dress of tissue, she appeared as lovely as
ever. Peregrine felt himself streamed t