When now both were seated on the aforesaid frail sofa, Rose began, with downcast eyes, and a half bashful smile,--"I can guess what has affected you so, dear Peregrine, and will own that they have told me many strange things of the singular inhabitants of your house. The neighbours,--you know what neighbours are, how they talk and talk, without knowing why or wherefore,--these evil-minded neighbours have told me of a strange lady in your house, whom many take for a princess, and whom you brought home yourself on Christmas eve. They say that the old Mr. Swammer has, indeed, received her as his niece, but that she pursues you with strange arts and temptations. This, however, is by no means the worst; only think, my dear Peregrine, my old cousin just opposite with the sharp nose, who sends over such friendly greetings when she sees you here, she has tried to put all manner of bad things into my head about you. Notwithstanding her friendly greetings, she has always warned me against you, and maintained that nothing less than sorcery was carried on in your house, and that the little Dörtje is an imp in disguise, who, to seduce you, goes about in a human form, and, indeed, in a very beautiful one. But, Peregrine, my dear Peregrine, look at me; is there any thing like doubt upon my face? I trust you, I trust the hopes of happiness to come upon us, when a firm band has united us for ever. Let the dark spirits have determined what they will in regard to you, their power is fruitless against pure love and unchanging constancy. What will, what can, disturb a love like ours? It is the talisman, before which the nightly images all fly." At this moment Rose appeared to Peregrine like a higher being, and each of her words like the consolations of Heaven. An indescribable feeling of the purest delight streamed through him, like the sweet mild breath of spring. He was no longer the sinner, the impious presumer, which he had before held himself; he began to think with joy that he was worthy of the love of the innocent Rose. The bookbinder, Lemmerhirt, now returned with his family from a walk. The hearts of Rose and Peregrine were overflowing, and it was not till late that he quitted, as an accepted bridegroom, the narrow abode of the bookbinder, whose joy exalted him to heaven, while the old woman, from pure delight, sobbed rather more than was necessary. All the authentic records, from which this wonderful history has been taken, agree in one point,--and the chronicle of centuries confirms it,--that in the night when Mr. Peregrine Tyss returned home as a happy lover, the full moon shone very brightly; it seems therefore natural enough, that, instead of going to rest, he seated himself at the open window, to stare at the moon, and think of his beloved, according to the usual custom of gentlemen, more particularly if they happen to be somewhat romantic--when under the influence of the tender passion.