If Mr. Tyss began now to amuse himself in society, his faithful companion also laid aside much of his gravity, and exhibited himself as a knavish little voluptuary, an amiable _roué_. He could not see the fair neck or the white bosom of any beauty, without slipping out of his hiding-place with the first opportunity, and springing on the inviting spot, where he very dexterously contrived to elude the attacks of pursuing fingers. This man[oe]uvre combined a double interest. In the first place, he found a pleasure in it for the thing itself; and then, he hoped, by drawing Peregrine's attention to the fair ones, to cast Dörtje's image into shadow. This, however, seemed to be a fruitless labour, for none of all the ladies, whom he now approached without the least timidity, seemed to him so fair and lovely as his little princess. The great cause however of his continued constancy was, that in none he found the words and thoughts so united in his favour as with her. He was convinced that he could never leave her, and this he repeated incessantly. Master Flea was in no little alarm. One day Peregrine remarked that the old Alina laughed very cunningly, took snuff more frequently than usual, muttered strangely, in short, acted altogether like one who is big with a secret and would fain be disburthened of it. To every thing she replied, "Yes, one can't tell that!--one must wait!" whether these words were suited to the occasion or not, till at last Peregrine, full of impatience, exclaimed, "Speak it out at once; tell me what is the matter, without creeping around me with those mysterious looks." "Ah!" cried the old woman, clasping her withered hands together, "ah! the dear little thing! the sweet little puppet!" "Whom do you mean?" asked Peregrine angrily. "Ah!" said the old woman, smirking, "ah! whom should I mean but our princess, below here with Mr. Swammer,--your bride, Mr. Tyss?" "Woman!" cried Mr. Tyss, "unlucky woman, she is here!--in the house!--and you do not tell me till now?" "Where,"--replied the old woman, without in the least losing her composure,--"where should the princess be but here, where she has found her mother?" "How!" cried Peregrine--"what is it you say, Alina?" "Yes," rejoined the old woman, drawing herself up--"yes, Alina is my right name, and who knows what else may come to light, in a short time, before your nuptials?" Peregrine entreated her, by all the angels and devils, to go on; but, without paying the least attention to his hurry, she seated herself snugly in the arm-chair, drew out her snuffbox, took a prodigious pinch, and demonstrated to Peregrine very circumstantially, that there was no worse failing than impatience.