Peregrine had already broken the ice by going abroad in public places, and it was therefore the less difficult for him to visit societies, from which he had formerly withdrawn himself. In this Master Flea rendered him excellent service with his microscopic glass, and he is said during this time to have kept a day-book, and to have made notes of the most remarkable and pleasant contradictions between words and thoughts, as they daily occurred to him. Perhaps the editor of this strange tale, called Master Flea, may find some future opportunity of bringing to light many worthy impartments from this same day-book; here it would only stop the current of the history, and, therefore, would not be welcome to the reader. So much, however, may be said, that many of the phrases with the corresponding thoughts seemed to be stereotyped as it were; as for example,--"Favour me with your advice;"--the thought being, "He is fool enough to think I ask his advice in a matter that I have long since resolved upon, and that tickles him." "I have the most perfect confidence in you;"--the thought being, "I knew long ago that you were a scoundrel," &c. c. It should also be mentioned that many folks mightily puzzled Peregrine with his microscopic observations. These were the young men, who fell into raptures upon every thing, and poured themselves forth in a torrent of splendid phrases. Amongst these the most remarkable were the young poets, who were boiling over with imagination and genius, and were particularly adored by the ladies. To these were associated the blue-stockings, who were as familiar with metaphysics as the less learned part of their sex with scandal, and could talk like any parson in his pulpit. If it seemed strange to Peregrine that the silver threads should twine together out of Gamaheh's brain into an undistinguishable something, he was not a little astonished at what he saw in the heads of those above mentioned. He saw indeed the strange weaving of nerves and veins, but remarked at the same time, that when the owners of them spoke most learnedly on art and science, they did not penetrate the brain, but were reflected outwards, so that all recognition of the thoughts was out of the question. He imparted his observation to Master Flea, who usually sate in a fold of his neckcloth, and Master Flea was of opinion, that what Peregrine took for thoughts were in reality none, but merely words, which in vain endeavoured to become thoughts.
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 manœuvre 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?"