"Pepusch, you are my real friend, for you are the only man in the whole city of Frankfort, who know that I lie buried in the old church at Delft, since the year seventeen hundred and twenty-five, and yet have not betrayed it to any one,--even when you were angry with me on account of Dörtje Elverdink. If at times I cannot exactly get it into my head that I am actually that Anton van Leuwenhock, who lies buried at Delft, yet again I must believe it, when I consider my works, and reflect upon my life; and on that account it is very agreeable to me that it is not at all spoken of. I now see, my dear Pepusch, that, in regard to Dörtje Elverdink, I have not acted rightly, although in a very different way from what you may well imagine--that is, I was right in pronouncing your suit to be an idle struggle,--wrong, in not being open with you, in not telling you the real circumstances of Dörtje Elverdink; you would then have seen how praiseworthy it was to talk you out of wishes, the accomplishment of which could not be other than destructive. Pepusch, sit down by me, and hear a wonderful history." "That I am likely to do," replied Pepusch with a malicious glance, sitting down in an armchair, opposite the flea-tamer, who thus began: "As you are well versed, my dear friend, in history, you know, beyond doubt, that King Sekakis lived for many years in intimate intercourse with the Flower-Queen, and that the beautiful Princess Gamaheh was the fruit of this passion. But it is not so well known, nor can I tell you, in what way the Princess Gamaheh came to Famagusta. Many maintain, and not without reason, that the princess wished to conceal herself there from the odious Leech-Prince, the sworn enemy of the Flower-Queen. Be this as it may,--it happened once in Famagusta, that the princess was walking in the cool freshness of the evening, and chanced upon a pleasant cypress-grove. Allured by the delightful sighings of the evening breeze, the murmurs of a brook, and the soft music of the birds, she stretched herself upon the moss, and quickly fell into a sound slumber. At this moment, the very enemy whom she had been so anxious to escape lifted his head out of the marshes, beheld the princess, and became so violently enamoured of the fair sleeper, that he could not resist an inclination to kiss her; and, creeping forward, he kissed her under the left ear. Now you know, friend Pepusch, that, when the Leech-Prince sets about kissing a fair one, she is lost, for he is the vilest bloodsucker in the world. So it happened on this occasion: the Leech-Prince kissed the poor Gamaheh so long, that all life left her, when he fell back gorged and intoxicated upon the moss, and was forced to be carried home by his servants, who hastily rolled out of their marshes. In vain the root mandragora toiled out of the earth, and laid itself upon the wound inflicted by the treacherous kisses of the Leech-Prince; in vain all the other flowers arose and