"Oh Peregrine!" cried Master Flea, "the will of man is a frail thing; a passing air will break it. How immense is the abyss lying between what man wills and what really happens! Many a life is only a constant _willing_, and many a one, from pure volition, at last does not know what he will. You _will_ not see Dörtje Elverdink, and yet who will answer for it that you do not see her in the very moment of your declaring such a resolution?" Strange enough, the very thing really happened which Master Flea had prophesied. Peregrine arose, 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 Dörtje 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.