Dressed again in the fairy dress of tissue, she appeared as lovely as ever. Peregrine felt himself streamed through by the electric warmth of her body, and yet, amidst it all, a cold mysterious shudder thrilled through him like the breathing of death. For the first time he thought that he saw something singular and lifeless deeply seated in her eyes, while the tone of her voice, nay even the rustling of her dress, betrayed a strange being, who was never to be trusted. It fell heavily upon his heart, that, when she had spoken her real thoughts, she had been in this same silver tissue; he knew not why he should fancy any thing menacing in it, and yet the idea of this dress was intimately blended with that of the supernatural, as a dream unites the most heterogeneous things, and all passes for absurd, the deeper connexion of which we are unable to comprehend. Far from wounding the fair-one with a suspicion which was perhaps false, Peregrine violently suppressed his feelings, and only waited for a favourable opportunity of freeing himself and escaping from the snake of Paradise. At last Dörtje said, "How is it, my sweet friend, you seem so cold and insensible to-day? What have you got in your head, my life?" "I have a headache," replied Peregrine, as indifferently as he was able.--"Headache!--whims!--megrims!--nothing else, my sweet child. I must go into the open air, and all will be over in a few minutes. Besides, I am called away by a particular business." "It is all invention!" exclaimed Gamaheh, starting up hastily.--"But you are a malicious monkey, that must be tamed." Peregrine was glad when he found himself in the open street; but as to Master Flea, he was quite extravagant in his joy, tittering and laughing incessantly in Peregrine's neckcloth, and clapping together his fore-paws till they rang again. This merriment of his little protegé was somewhat troublesome to Mr. Tyss, as it disturbed him in his meditations, and he begged of him to be quiet, for many grave people had already glanced at him with looks of reproach, fancying it was he who tittered and laughed, and played such foolish pranks in the open streets. "Fool that I was!" exclaimed Master Flea, persisting in the ebullitions of his extravagant joy--"Fool that I was to doubt of the victory where no battle was needed. Why, you had conquered in the moment, when even the death of your beloved could not shake your resolution. Let me shout, let me rejoice, for all must deceive me, if a bright morning-sun do not soon arise, which will clear up every mystery."