"How is it," said George Pepusch to himself, when he had got into the street,--"how is it that one, who has the command of a nice warm chamber and a well-stuffed bed, wanders through the streets at night in the rain and storm?--Because he has forgotten the house key, and he is driven moreover by love." He could answer himself no otherwise, and indeed his whole conduct seemed silly in his own estimation. He remembered the moment when he saw Dörtje Elverdink for the first time. Some years before the Flea-tamer had exhibited his arts in Berlin, and had found no slight audiences as long as the thing was new. Soon, however, people had seen enough of the educated and well-disciplined fleas; and even the paraphernalia of the diminutive race began not to be thought so very wonderful, although at first attributed almost to magic, and Leuwenhock seemed to have fallen into total oblivion. On a sudden a report was spread that a niece of the artist, who had not appeared before, now attended the exhibitions--a beautiful, lovely little maiden, and withal so strangely attired as to baffle description. The world of fashionables, who, like leaders in a concert, are accustomed to give the time and tune to society, now poured in; and, as in this world every thing is in extremes, the niece excited unparalleled astonishment. It soon became the mode to frequent the flea-tamer; he, who had not seen his niece, could not join in the common talk; and thus the artist was saved in his distress. As to the rest, no one could comprehend the name "_Dörtje_;" and as at this time a celebrated actress was displaying, in the part of the Queen of Golconda, all those high yet soft attractions which are peculiar to the sex, they called the fair Hollander by the royal name, Alina.