The Serapion Brethren, Vol. II

by E. T. A. Hoffmann

"I have the greatest objection to that simile," said Ludwig. "It is taken from the British navy. All through the smallest rope in their ships (I know this, of course, from the Wahlverwandschaften), runs a small red thread, which shows that the rope is Government property. No, my dear friend! Whatever happens is pre-ordained, from the beginning, as an essential necessity, just because it does happen. And this is the Mutual Interdependence of Things, upon which rests the principle of all being, of all existence. Because, as soon as you----"

However, it is necessary, at this point, to explain to the courteous reader that as Ludwig and Euchar were thus talking together, they were walking in an alley of the beautiful park at W----. It was a Sunday. Twilight was beginning to fall, the evening breeze was whispering in the branches which, reviving after the heat of the day, were exhaling gentle sighs. Among the woods were sounding the happy voices of townsfolk in their Sunday clothes, out for the afternoon, some of them lying in the sweet grass enjoying their simple supper, and others refreshing themselves in the various restaurants, in accordance with the winnings of their week.

Just as Ludwig was going on to explain more fully the profound theory of the mutual interdependence of things, he stumbled over the thick root of a tree, which (as he always wore spectacles) he had not seen; and he measured his length on the ground.

"That was comprehended in the mutual interdependence of things," said Euchar gravely and quietly, lifting up his friend's hat and stick, and giving him his hand to help him on to his legs again. "If you had not pitched over in that absurd manner the world would have come to a stop at once."

But Ludwig felt his right knee so stiff that he was obliged to limp, and his nose was bleeding freely. This induced him to take his friend's advice and go into the nearest restaurant, though he generally avoided these places, particularly on Sundays. For the jubilations of the Sunday townsfolk were exceptionally displeasing to him, giving him a sensation of being in places which were not by any means convenable--at all events for people of his position.

In the front of this restaurant the people had formed a deep, many-tinted ring, from the interior of which there Bounded the tones of a guitar and a tambourine. Ludwig, assisted by his friend, went limping into the house, holding his handkerchief to his face. And he begged so pitifully for water, and a little drop of wine-vinegar, that the landlady, much alarmed, thought he must be at the point of death. Whilst he was being served with what he required, Euchar (on whom the sounds of the guitar and tambourine exercised an irresistible fascination) crept forth, and endeavoured to penetrate into the closed circle. He belonged to that restricted class of Nature's favourites whose exterior and whole being ensure a kindly reception everywhere, and in all circumstances. So that on this occasion some journeymen mechanics (people who are not usually much given to politeness of a Sunday) at once made room for him when he asked what was going forward, so that he as well as themselves might have a look at the strange little creature who was dancing and playing so prettily and cleverly. And a curious and delightful scene displayed itself to Euchar, which fettered all his mind and attention.

In the middle of the ring a girl with her eyes blindfolded was dancing the fandango amongst nine eggs, arranged three by three behind each other on the ground, and playing a tambourine as she danced. At one side stood a little deformed man, with an ill-looking gypsy face, playing the guitar. The girl who was dancing seemed to be about fifteen. She was oddly dressed in a red bodice, gold-embroidered, and a short white skirt trimmed with ribbons of various colours. Her figure and all her motions were the very ideal of elegance and grace. She brought the most marvellous variety of sounds out of her tambourine. Sometimes she would raise it above her head, and then hold it out in front of her or behind her, with her arms stretched out, in the most picturesque attitudes. Now it would sound like a far-off drum; now like the melancholy cooing of the turtle-dove, and presently like the distant roar of the approaching storm. All this was accompanied in the most delightful manner by the tinkling of the clear, harmonious bells. And the little guitar-player by no means fell short of her in virtuosity; for he, too, had quite a style of his own of treating his instrument--making the dance melody (which was a most characteristic one, wholly out of the common run of such things) predominate at times, loud and clear, and hushing it down at other times into a mysterious piano, striking the strings with the palms of his hand (as the Spaniards do in producing that peculiar effect), and presently dashing out bright-sounding, full harmonies. The tambourine went on crescendo, as the guitar-strings clanged louder and louder, and the girl's boundings increased in their scope in a similar ratio. She would set down her foot within a hair's-breadth of the eggs with the most complete certainty and confidence, so that the spectators could not help crying out, thinking that one of those fragile things must infallibly be broken. Her black hair had fallen down, and it flew about her head, giving her much the effect of a Mænad. The little fellow cried out to her in Spanish, "Stop!" And on this, while still going on with her dance, she lightly touched each of the eggs, so that they rolled together into a heap; upon which, with a loud beat on her tambourine and a forcible chord on the guitar, she came to a sudden standstill, as if banned there by some spell. The dance was done.

The little fellow went up to her and undid the cloth which bound her eyes. She rolled up her hair, took the tambourine, and went round amongst the spectators, with downcast looks, to collect their contributions. Not one had slunk off out of the way. Every one, with a face of pleasure, put a piece of money into that tambourine. When she came to Euchar, and as he was going to put something into it, she made a sign of refusal.

"May not I give you anything?" he said.

She looked up at him, and the glowing fire of her loveliest of eyes flashed through the night of her black silken lashes.