# Hoffmann's Strange Stories/Chapter 2

THE LOST REFLECTION.
I.
I was feverish, even to delirium; the coldness of death pierced my heart, and in spite of the fury of the storm, I ran into the streets, bare-headed, without cloak, like one escaped from a mad-house. The weather-cocks creaked on the roofs like frightened owls, and the gusts of night wind succeeded each other in space like the deaf sound of the eternal wheel-work which marks the fall of years into the Gulf of Time. It was, nevertheless, the night before the joyous holiday of Christmas. Now every year the devil chooses precisely this epoch to play me some trick in his own fashion. This is one among a thousand. The counsellor of the peace of our town is in the habit of giving to Saint Silvestre a brilliant evening party, to celebrate the approach of the new year. As soon as I had entered the anteroom, the counsellor perceiving, ran to meet me, and stopped me. "Dear friend, you cannot imagine what a delicious surprise awaits here you this evening!" At the same time he took me by the hand and drew me into the parlor, among ladies of the most exquisite elegance, seated on sofas arranged in a circle around the fire-place, where a clear fire was sparkling. I perceived her adored features! It was she, she that I had not seen for several years. By what miracle was she given back to me? I remained at the sight of her motionless and dumb.
"Well," said the counsellor, pushing me a little,—"well then!"
​I advanced mechanically. "Good God!" exclaimed I, "is it really you, Julia? you here?"
At these words she rose and said to me coldly—"I am glad to see you here; your health appears to he extremely good."
Then taking her place again, she leaned towards her neighbor, without taking any more notice of me, and said to her mincingly—"Dear Bella, shall we have a fine spectacle next week?"
I was floored. The fear of ridicule finished the piteous figure that I made there. Saluting the ladies, to get off as soon as possible, I backed on to the counsellor, who was taking his cup of tea, the shock spilt the burning contents over his laced ruffle and plaited wristbands. They laughed loudly at my awkwardness; nevertheless I gained confidence to wrestle with fatality, for Julia alone had not smiled. Her look attached itself to me with an expression which gave me back a glimpse of hope. A few moments after she rose to go into the next room, where an improvisatore was amusing the company. The white dress of Julia brought out admirably the charms of her waist, the brilliancy of her snowy shoulders, and the elegance of contour in her whole person. There was in her extreme seductions; she resembled, by the purity of her bearing, a virgin of Mieris. Before going into the neighboring saloon, she turned towards me; it seemed to me then that this face, of such perfect and angelic beauty, was wrinkled with a slight expression of irony. I was seized with an indescribable uneasiness. Meanwhile, a few minutes after, I found Julia quite near me.
"I should like," said she to me in a whisper, and in the smoothest manner—"I should like to have you take your place at the pianoforte, to play one of those tender airs that I formerly loved so much."
As I went about answering her with all the enthusiasm which my former remembrances gave back to me, several persons passed between us, and we were separated. I tried for ​some time all means for renewing our tête-à-tête, without being able to succeed. It might have been said that Julia sought, on her side, all possible excuses to avoid me. A short time after, there was no one between us but the servant who carried the refreshments. Julia took a finely cut-glass full of delicious sherbet. She presented it to me, saying—
"Friend, do you accept it from my hand with as much happiness as you would formerly have felt?"
"Oh, Julia! Julia!" exclaimed I, touching her alabaster fingers, whose contact sent through my veins an electric shock. "Oh, Julia!" I could not say another word; a veil slid over my sight, everything turned around me, I lost the sense of hearing; and when I came to my senses, I found myself, with surprise, reclining on a sofa, in a perfumed boudoir, Julia leaning over me, regarding me with love as formerly.
"Oh!" said I to her, trying to draw her towards me, "I have found thee again; is it not so forever, oh my beautiful angel of love and poetry? Thy life is mine, and nothing can separate us more!"
At this moment a hideous face, mounted on long spider's legs, with frog's eyes that stuck out of his forehead, suddenly opened the door of the boudoir, crying in a squeaking voice, "Where the devil did my wife go to?"
Julia, frightened, escaped from my side.
"Julia married! Julia forever lost for me?" I threw myself like a madman out of this accursed house; and this is why I ran breathlessly, bare-headed, without cloak, through the fury of the storm. The weather-cocks creaked on the roofs like frightened owls, and the gusts of night wind that whipped in the space whirlwinds of snow, seemed the voices of demons who laughed at my madness and my despair.
II.
Rushing along from street to street like a wild horse, I arrived in front of the Hunter's Tavern. A group of joyous companions came out of it, with gay songs and noisy bursts of laughter. Devoured by a burning thirst, I went into the inn, and let myself drop, all out of breath, into a seat.
"What shall I serve you with, sir?" said the landlord, taking off his foxskin cap.
"A mug of beer and some tobacco," I cried.
Thanks to the cherished liquid of our good Germans, I found myself soon in a state of inert satisfaction, so profound that the devil, who had bewitched me all that evening, judged that he would be doing wisely to put off until the morrow the next trick that he was preparing for me. My ball dress, joined to my singular physiognomy, must have produced an incredible effect on my pot-house neighbors. I imagined that the landlord was about to question me, when a vigorous hand knocked on the shutters of the inn, whilst a voice cried out—"Open, open, it is I!"
Hardly was the door partly opened, (for it was then an unseasonable hour,) when a tall person, who appeared to be nothing but skin and bones, slid into the room, trying to walk with his back against the wall. He came and seated himself in front of me. The landlord put two lights on the table. This new comer had a distinguished but melancholy face. He asked, as I had done, for a pot of beer and a pipe of tobacco; then he appeared to busy himself in his reflections, at the same time blowing out enormous clouds of smoke, which, mixed with mine, enveloped us in a few instants in an atmosphere of narcotic fog. I contemplated him, without saying a word, through this cloud. His black hair, parted on the forehead, fell back in curls, after the style of the heads of Rubens. He wore a straight frock coat, ornamented with frogs, and what surprised me not a little, he had put on over his boots large furred slippers.
​When he had finished smoking his pipe, he took from a tin case a large quantity of plants, which he spread out upon the table, and set himself to examine them one after another with eminent satisfaction. For the purpose of entering into conversation with him, I complimented him on the knowledge that he appeared to possess of botany. He smiled in a strange manner, and answered—"Those plants that you see have no real value except their rarity. I gathered them myself on the sides of the summit of Chimborazo.
As I was about asking him a new question, some one knocked again at the door of the inn. The landlord went to open it, and a voice cried from without—"Do me the kindness to cover your mirror."
"Ah!" said the host, Gen. Suvarow arrives very late this evening."
At the same time a little dried-up man, rolled up in the folds of a brown cloak, entered skippingly into the tavern, and came and seated himself between the traveller from Chimborazo and myself.
"How cold it is out," said he; "and what a smoke there is here! I should like to have a pinch of snuff."
I hastened to offer him my steel snuff-box, polished like a mirror—a pledge of friendship very dear to me. Hardly had the little man thrown his eyes upon it, than he started back, and cried out, whilst pushing it with both hands—"To the devil with your accursed mirror!"
I looked at him in a stupor. All his features were convulsed, and he was pale as death. I did not dare to ask him the cause of the uneasiness that he felt. I do not know what of fantastic and infernal seemed to me to be attached to this little man in brown. I approached my friend from Chimborazo, and we continued our conversation on botany. Whilst conversing, I looked from time to time at the little man with anxiety, and seeing his face change every minute, an icy shuddering ran through my veins. From phrase to phrase, ​and undoubtedly on account of our so singular a meeting, the conversation fell upon the metaphysics of happiness.
"By my faith," said the man from Chimborazo, "all my philosophy resolves itself into opposing patience to the thousand and one annoyances with which life is strown. We leave every day, and every where, a rag of our poor existence attached to some misfortune from which all human prudence would not have been able to preserve us."
"Faith, my dear, master," returned I, "I am an incontestible example of the truth of what you say; for this very night I have lost, by a very disagreeable accident, my hat and cloak, which remain hung up in the anteroom of the counsellor of justice."
At these words I saw my two neighbors start as if they had received a violent blow. The little man in brown threw towards me a savage look, in which there was something eminently diabolical. He jumped up into a chair, and re-adjusted carefully the red serge curtain with which the host had covered the mirror, whilst the citizen from Chimborazo snuffed the candles so as not to have the slightest shadow formed.
The conversation was with difficulty renewed, and fell upon the work of a young painter, then very much in vogue.
"His talent," said the tall man, "seizes the resemblance with admirable art. Nothing is wanting in his portraits but speech; to such a point that they would be taken, they are so animated, for a reflection stolen from a mirror."
"What stupidity!" said the little man in brown, moving about uneasily in his chair; "how can we suppose that the image reflected in a mirror can be stolen?—by whom, I ask you, unless the devil meddles with it? Yes, yes, Monsieur the wise man, Monsieur the great judge in matters of art, show me how, I pray you, to touch with my finger a reflection taken from the first mirror we find, and I will make a pirouette a hundred feet high!"
The tall thin man arose, and approaching the little man in brown, said—"Softly, my friend; do not be so sharp, or you ​will be made to jump the simple height of the stair-case which leads into the street. Zounds! I advise you to be proud. Your face must produce a pleasant effect in a looking-glass."
He had hardly finished this speech, when the little man rolled over on his seat, convulsed with laughter, crying out as loudly as he could—"Ha! ha! ha! my poor comrade, of what importance is my reflection? I have at least a shadow that has never been stolen from me."
And saying this, he went dancing out of the tavern. The tall thin citizen fell back into his seat like a man annihilated.
"What is the matter with you, my dear sir?" said I to him, with a tone full of compassion.
"What is the matter with me!" answered he with sobs—"what is the matter with me! Alas, that little man that you saw here just now is a wicked sorcerer, who comes to claim me in the last asylum where I had thought to find a refuge against the frightful misfortune of having lost my——. Farewell, sir, farewell!"
And the stranger rising, walked rapidly towards the door, not throwing the least shadow on the walls.
"Peter Schlemihl! Peter Schlemihl!" exclaimed I, running after him; for by this I recognized this celebrated man accursed. But he had already got too far in advance of me, and disappeared in the darkness. When I turned to go back to my place, the host pushed me out by the shoulders, and shut the door in my face, saying—"May God preserve my house from such ghosts! I would as soon serve the devil in person!"
III.
Mr. Mathieu is my intimate friend, and his porter the most stylish Cerebus that I know. The latter opened to me at the first sound of the bell that I rang at the door of the Golden Eagle. I related to him in a few words the little miseries of my evening; and as the key of my room remained in my ​cloak at the house of the counsellor, he opened another room for me, placed a light in it, and discreetly retired, after having wished me good night. There was in this chamber a large mirror covered with a curtain. I placed the light in front of the glass, from which I drew aside the veil to contemplate the sorrowful figure that I thought I must make. But hardly had I fixed my eyes upon my own image, when it seemed to me that I saw a vague and floating figure come out from the distant perspective formed by the mirror, and advance towards me. Little by little this form became distinct, and I soon recognized the adored features of Julia. I could not restrain a cry of surprise and love. I held out my arms towards this apparition, calling out—"Julia! Julia!"
At this moment I heard behind me a prolonged sigh. I ran to the other end of the room, and drew aside quickly the curtain of the bed, when I perceived, plunged in a profound slumber, the little man in brown. From his breast, agitated by a heavy nightmare, escaped at intervals the name of a woman.
"Giulietta! Giulietta!" murmured he.
I felt a shudder; but taking courage, I rudely shook the little man, crying out to him—"Hallo, my friend, who the devil put you into my bed? Try, if you please, to seek for lodgings elsewhere."
The little man stretched himself, awoke slowly, and said to me—"Ah, thank you, sir? you have awakened me out of an unpleasant dream."
He appeared, whilst saying this, so depressed, that I took pity on him. I understood, besides, that the porter might have opened, by mistake, this chamber, rightly occupied, and that I should do wrong in disturbing the repose of its tenant.
"Sir," said the little man, leaning his elbow on the pillow, "my conduct at the inn must have appeared very absurd to you; but what can I do? I am under a cruel influence, which very often exposes me to commit a great deal of rudeness."
​"Very well, my dear, sir," replied I, "I am precisely in the same predicament; and this evening when I saw Julia—"
"Julia? did you say?" exclaimed the little man, his face becoming convulsed.
"Ah, sir, I supplicate you, let me sleep; and have the kindness to put down the curtain over the glass."
Saying these words, the little man in brown hid his face in the folds of the pillow.
"But, my dear unknown," replied I, raising my voice to force him to hear me, "why does this woman's name, which I have just pronounced, cause you so painful a sensation? I hope that you will confide this to me, when, after covering the glass again, according to your desire, I shall take my place in bed at your side; for, seriously, it is time to rest."
The little man rose up on end, as if a spring had acted upon him—"You will then know the secret of my miserable life. Well, then, this is my story."
At the same time he got out out of bed, rolled himself up in a kind of dressing-gown, and came towards the fire-place; but the curtain over the glass was not yet put back, and he fixed his eyes upon it. Oh, surprising! whilst standing erect beside him, I could not see his reflection by the side of mine!
The little man turned upon me a look filled with painful emotion. "Sir," said he, "I am more to be pitied than Peter Schlemihl. Schlemihl sold his shadow; that was his own fault; and besides, he received the price of it. I, sir, have given her my reflection for love—to her, to Giulietta; alas! alas!"
He ran and threw himself into bed, and tried to stifle his moaning.
All kinds of sensations agitated my soul at the sight of a scene so sorrowfully grotesque. I remained chained to the place where I stood, like a real automaton, when I heard my friend in bed snore like the barrel of an organ. The temptation to imitate him took such a strong hold of me, that ten ​minutes after I was sleeeping like one of the blessed, on the half of the bed that he gave up to me.
An hour before day I was awakened by the shining of a brilliant light. On opening my eyes, I perceived the little man, half dressed, very busily employed writing by the light of two candles. His grotesque appearance gave me the vertigo. I fell into a kind of hallucination, which transported me to the house of the counsellor, seated on a sofa, as the night before, near Julia. The counsellor appeared to me to be a sugar doll in the midst of bushes loaded with fruit, and tufted with roses. Julia offered me, as before, a glass, from which sparkled, like phosphorus, little blue flames. Then some one pulled me from behind; it was this very little man in brown, who whispered into my ear—"Do not drink! do not drink!"
"What are you afraid of?" said Julia; "are you not wholly mine, you and your reflection?"
I took the glass from her hand, and was about drinking, when the little man in brown, metamorphosed into a squirrel, jumped upon my shoulder, and repeated to me—"Do not drink! do not drink!" and with his floating tail he tried to extinguish the little blue flames.
Julia spoke again—"Why," said she to me, "dost thou refuse to take this glass, oh my beloved? This little flame, pure and brilliant, that thou seest burning on its surface, is the emblem of the first kiss of our ancient love."
At the sound of this voice so sweet, I felt moved and transported. I was about pressing to my heart this idolized woman, when Peter Schlemihl passed between us, and began to laugh in our faces. At the same time all the persons who filled the room of the counsellor, appeared to me to be changed into little sugar figures, and all commenced jumping about and buzzing like bees, and climbing around me like a parcel of children.
I awoke; it was broad day; noon sounded from the belfry of the neighboring church; and I asked myself, whilst ​rubbing my eyes, if the history of my nocturnal apparitions was not a nightmare, when the servant of the hotel coming in with my chocolate, informed me that the stranger who had shared my room and bed went away at daybreak, begging him to give me his compliments. Here is what this singular person had written and left, unintentionally perhaps, on the table.
IV.
It happened one day that Erasmus Spicker found himself at the height of joy; for the first time in his life he was allowed to travel. He filled with gold pieces a leather belt, and mounted into a travelling carriage to visit poetic Italy. His dear wife took a weeping farewell of him, and held little 'Rasmus up to the carriage window twenty times for his father to give him a kiss at parting. Then she charged her dear husband, above all things, not to lose the travelling cap that she herself had knit for him of fine wool.
Erasmus arrived at Florence, where he found several of his countrymen giving themselves up, without reserve, to all the pleasures of life. He set himself bravely to partake of their orgies, and was with them in all their adventures. Now it happened that all the joyous companions had one night appointed a meeting at a country seat in the suburbs, to have a full feast. All of them, except Erasmus, had taken their mistresses. The men wore then national costume of old Germany; the women were dressed in the holiday dresses of their country. They ate, they drank, they sang the most delicious romances of Italy. The orange trees in bloom shed their perfume on the air; the evening breeze carried through the distant space bursts of voluptuous harmony; the joy of the guests rose even to the limits of delirium.
Suddenly Frederick, the freest liver of the troupe, rose. With one arm he supported the waist of his mistress, and with the other he raised above his head his glass filled to the brim with golden, wine.
​"Oh, my friends," exclaimed he, "in what place in the world could be found, better than here, all that makes life worth living? Women of Italy, if love did not exist since the beginning of the world, you would have invented it! But thou, Erasmus, why then didst thou come here alone? Why alone dost thou not partake of our joy? Why dost thou sadden us by the melancholy of thy face?"
"What shall I say to you, oh my friends," answered Erasmus; "my heart does not partake of your joy, because my mind does not place its joy in the pleasures of the senses. Besides, I have left in our country a faithful wife, whose confidence I must not deceive. You are free, but I have a family that I must think of unceasingly."
The young people laughed at the virtue of Erasmus, whose youthful physiognomy seemed as yet so little fitted for the cares of a household. Frederick's mistress had the discourse of Spicker translated into Italian for her, then she said, smilingly—"Here is a wise man, whom Giulietta could make lose his soul."
As she said this, a woman of marvellous beauty entered the room. You would have thought, to have seen her, that she was one of Rubens' or Mieris' virgins.
"Giulietta!" exclaimed the young girls.
Giulietta threw a malicious look around among the guests. "Brave Germans," said she to them, "will you give me a place at your joyous banquet? Hold! there is just one of you who appears to be alone and sad; I will go and try to smooth his wrinkles."
Taking a place with ravishing coquetry near Erasmus, she made, by her caresses, all the young men jealous of the good fortune of Spicker.
Erasmus had felt, at the sight of Giulietta, a devouring fire circulate in his veins. When he felt her near him, the pleasure of desire exalted his imagination. The beautiful Italian rose, took a goblet and offered it to him. Hardly had he swallowed a draught of the perfidious beverage, when he fell on his ​knees before the syren:—"Oh!" exclaimed he, "it is thou, thou alone in the world who art worthy of love, angel from heaven!—it is thou that I have sought for in my youthful dreams! I have found thee at last,—thou art my soul, my life, and my god!"
The young men looked at each other; some of them thought that Erasmus had become mad; they had never seen him thus before.
The whole night was passed amid songs of pleasure and vows of love. When morning broke each one went his way with his lady. Erasmus wanted to accompany Giulietta, but she denied his pressing entreaty, and contented herself with pointing out to him a house in which he might see her again.
Poor Spicker was obliged to regain his solitary home, escorted by a little servant armed with a torch. When he arrived in his street, the servant extinguished the torch on the flagging stones, for day already succeeded morning.
Suddenly a tall thin man, with a hooked nose and satanic look, dressed in a scarlet jacket with steel buttons, appeared before Erasmus, and said to him smilingly, and in a trembling voice—"Hallo, master Spicker! have we just escaped from some old book of plates, with this costume of past times, this cap of feathers, and this rapier? Do you want the children to cry after you in the streets? You had better go quickly back into your old book."
"What is my costume to you?" cried Erasmus. Pushing against the coxcomb, who stopped him, he tried to pass on; but the man in red stopping him, said very loudly—"Softly, my friend; do not move so quickly, and do not push people: it is not time to go to the house of the beautiful Giulietta."
The color came into the face of Erasmus; he tried to seize the red man by the collar to strangle him, but he made a spring from him and disappeared like a flash of lightning.
"Sir," said the valet, "do not mind this adventure; you have just met the marvellous doctor of Florence, Sig. Dapertutto."
​The same day, Erasmus went to the place pointed out to him by Giulietta. The beautiful Italian welcomed him with coquetry still more refilled than the night before. She took pleasure in observing the progress of the passion that Erasmus had conceived for her; but she kept him at a respectful distance, and opposed to all his efforts an immovable coldness. This resistance only inflamed the more his foolish love. He stopped visiting his friends to consecrate his time to following the steps of Giulietta.
One day Frederick met him, took him by the arm and said to him—"Knowest tbou, poor Spicker, that thou hast fallen into a very dangerous snare? How, hast thou not already learnt that Giulietta is a woman of gallantry, and above all the most tricky of those who have ever plucked a lover? They tell of her the most scurvy stories. Is it for such a creature as this that thou canst give up thy friends, and forget thy wife and child?"
At these words Erasmus understood his fault; he covered his face with his hands, and wept bitterly.
"Come, Spicker," said Frederick,"let us quit Florence, this dangerous city; let us go back into our good country."
"Yes," said Erasmus, "let us start this very day."
But as Frederick was going off with his friend, behold the Signor Dapertutto passed near Erasmus, and laughing in his face, cried out—"Good luck, my young friend; run, Giulietta is dying of impatience and love, and accusing you of negligence."—Erasmus stopped short, in surprise.
"Good God!" said Frederick; "this Dr. Dapertutto is a quack, really worthy of correction. There never was a more insolent monkey, since he poisons with his fashionable pills the famous Giulietta."
"Giulietta!" exclaimed Erasmus; "does this queer fellow go to the house of Giulietta?"
The two friends arrived under the balcony of the goddess. A sweet voice called to Erasmus, who, disengaging himself violently from Frederick's arm, sprang into the house.
​"Our poor friend Spicker is quite lost," said Frederick, returning to his own house.
That day there was a brilliant festival in the environs of Florence, which gathered together all the fashionables. Giulietta wanted Erasmus to accompany her. They met there a very ugly little Italian, who paid assiduous court to Giulietta. Erasmus, wounded by the coquetry which prevented his beautiful companion from sending off this abortion, had a fit of jealousy, and rudely left the company. Giulietta, not seeing him return, went after him, and having found him in a solitary walk in the garden, reproached him softly, and throwing her snowy arms around his neck, left on his lips a kiss of fire. Erasmus lost his senses; he was about forgetting the whole universe, when Giulietta suddenly called him to himself, by a look whose coldness and severity drove him to despair. Both came back to the saloon.
Meanwhile the young Italian had seen the manœuvre of Giulietta. Jealousy pricked him in his turn, he revenged himself by a sudden fire of sarcasms against the Germans. Erasmus went straight up to him—"I beg you, sir," said he to him, "to put a stop to your impertinences against my countrymen, or I will throw you out of the window.
At this threat, the Italian furiously drew a dagger; but Spicker was too quick for him, for he seized him and threw him down so rudely that the unfortunate man expired with his skull fractured. They threw themselves upon Erasmus, who, seized with horror at the sight of the murder he had just committed, grew pale, staggered and fainted. When he came to his senses, he found himself lying upon a little couch, in a boudoir lighted by a voluptuous subdued light. Giulietta supported him in her arms. "Oh, wicked German!" said she with an accent of soft reproach; "what uneasiness you have caused me! There is no longer any safety for you in Florence, nor in all Italy; you must go and leave me forever."
"No," answered Spicker, "sooner will I die here; for is it not to die to go and live far away from you?"
​But suddenly it seemed to him that a distant voice called to him sadly; it is the voice of his dear wife; Erasmus shudders; he is ashamed of himself. The words die upon his lips—but a kiss from Giulietta renews his madness. "Adored angel!" exclaimed he, "I will not separate myself from thee; why can we not be united from this hour by eternal bonds?"
At this moment, two candelabras filled with wax candles, lighted at the end of the boudoir a superb Venice glass.
"Friend," said Giulietta, pressing Erasmus to her heart, "what thou desirest is impossible; but at least leave me thy reflection, oh my beloved, in order that I may not remain alone forever, deprived of thee."
"What do you say?" exclaimed Erasmus, "my reflection?"
And at the same time he drew Giulietta before the glass, which reproduced their amorous position.
"How," said he to her, "couldst thou keep my reflection?"
"Friend," answered Giulietta, "the fugitive appearance that is called reflection, and that is traced upon all polished surfaces, can be detached from thy person, and become the property of the being that thou lovest most in the world. Dost thou refuse to leave me this memento? Wilt thou deprive me cruelly of this trifling pledge, which might recall to me the too fleeting happiness of our tenderness?"
"To thee! to thee now and forever!" exclaimed Erasmus, a prey to a delirium of frenzied love. "Take my reflection; and may no power of heaven or hell be able to separate it from thee!"
This exclamation having exhausted his strength, he panted in the embrace of the beautiful Italian. It seemed to him that his image detached itself from him, from his individuality, and that uniting itself closely to that of Giulietta, who held out her arms to it, both fled back into the perspective created by the mirror, and lost themselves in a fantastic vapor!
A mysterious terror nearly took away from Erasmus the use of his senses. One moment he thought he was alone; ​and seeking gropingly an outlet through the infernal darkness, full of satanic and threatening voices, he descended staggeringly a flight of stairs, that seemed ready to crumble under his feet. As soon as he was in the street, at a few steps from the house of Giulietta, he was taken, gagged, and thrown into a carriage, which set off at a gallop. A man was seated by the side of Erasmus, who said to him—"Fear nothing, dear sir, Signora Griulietta has placed you in my care, in order that I might carry you safely out of the Italian dominions. It is annoying for you to be forced to abandon so beautiful a creature; and if you will give yourself up to me without reserve, I will try and save you from the vengeance of your enemies, and the pursuits of justice, and you can remain at ease near your beloved."
This proposition made Erasmus start. "I accept," said he to his conductor; "but by what means?"
"Do not trouble yourself about that," replied the unknown. "As soon as it is day, you will look at yourself long and attentively in a mirror. I will execute during this time certain operations with your reflection, and afterwards you shall judge yourself of the efficacy of my means."
"God of heaven! what a frightful misfortune!" exclaimed Erasmus.
"Of what misfortune do you speak, sir?" said the unknown.
"Alas!" replied Erasmus, "I have—I have left——"
"Ha! ha! ha! that is very funny!" interrupted sneeringly the man of secrets. "I understand you marvellously well. You have left your reflection with Giulietta. Very well, my friend; and at this rate you can at your ease travel quietly over mountains and through valleys, until you find again your worthy wife and your little 'Rasmus."
At this moment a troupe of young people who were singing on the road, passed near the carriage with torches. By their fugitive light which broke through the darkness, Erasmus recognized by his side Dr. Dapertutto. With a blow from ​his fist he knocked him into the corner of the carriage, opened the door, sprang at a bound into the street, calling loudly to Frederick and his countrymen, for it was they who had just passed so near to him.
At the news of the pursuit that threatened Erasmus, Frederick returned hastily to the city with him, in order to consult on the means of avoiding it. On the morrow Erasmus started on horseback on the road to Germany.
Towards the middle of his journey, he arrived in a large city, and stopped at the hotel, worn out by fatigue and dying of hunger. He took a place at the table, but the servant perceiving in a large mirror that the chair occupied by Erasmus was reflected in it without the reflection of the traveller, remarked it by a whisper in the ear of his neighbor; the latter communicated it to another, and in the twinkling of an eye all at the table were emulating each other in talking about this wonder. Erasmus, while eating and drinking enough for four, was entirely unconscious that he had become the object of general curiosity; when an aged man came up to him, took him by the hand, led him before the glass, and said to him—"Sir, you have no reflection; you are the devil or one of his people!"
Erasmus, furious and confused, ran and shut himself up in his chamber, where the police soon came to signify that he was ordered to appear before the magistrates, provided with his reflection, under penalty of being driven out of the city.
Erasmus judged it most prudent to make his escape; but his story was already known all over the city, and the people gathered in a crowd before the hotel, and pursued him, throwing stones and mud, and crying out—"There goes the accursed man who has sold his reflection to the devil!"
Since that accident, everywhere he stopped he had all the mirrors veiled on arriving; and it was for that he was called derisively Gen. Suvarow, because this personage had this habit.
On arriving home, poor Spicker found near his wife a most ​tender welcome. He thought that he should he able, in the calm of domestic life, to forget his lost reflection. After some time, the remembrance of Giulietta was nearly effaced from his mind. But one evening, while he was playing with his son near the stove, the child daubed his face with soot, and cried out to him—"Father! father! see how black you are!" and running to get a pocket mirror, he held it before Erasmus, and he looked into it himself. Struck with fright at not seeing the face of his father by the side of his own, he ran crying away, and related his grief to his mother.
The lost reflection destroyed the peace of the household. The wife of Erasmus uttered loud cries, and the neighbors came in. Erasmus, mad with fury and despair, fled from the house, and ran until he was out of breath in the fields. The image of Giulietta appeared to him then in all the brilliancy of her charms. "Oh, Giulietta! Giulietta!" exclaimed he; "she to whom I have sacrificed thee has repulsed me! Giulietta, I have no longer any one but thee in the world. I give myself up to thee; take me wholly and forever."
"And you shall be satisfied, my master," exclaimed the voice of Signor Dapertutto, who suddenly appeared at his side, as if by enchantment.
"Alas!" said Erasmus, "how shall I find her again?"
"She is near by here, and more in love with you than ever," replied Dapertutto. "Happy to possess you, wholly and forever, she will take, my dear sir, pleasure in giving you back your reflection."
"Oh, lead me to her quickly," interrupted Spicker.
"Softly, if you please," replied the doctor, with his former sneer and satanic smile. "It is necessary, before all, that the ties which bind you to your wife and child be broken, in order that Giulietta may have assurance of possessing you wholly. Take this phial!"
"Execrable man!" exclaimed Erasmus, with a gesture of horror, "what! you wish me to poison my wife and child?"
"Who speaks of poisoning?" said Dapertutto; "what I ​give you is an elixir, of an exquisite taste, a true family liquor, with which I think you will be contented."
Erasmus already had the phial in his hands, and looked at it mechanically. He returned to his house, and found his wife and child uneasy to know what had become of him. The good woman would no longer recognize him, and maintained that the devil had taken his form to come and abuse her. Erasmus, driven to extremity, had for an instant the thought of using the phial. A tame dove came flying towards him, and picked at the cork, and fell dead! This incident recalled the poor bewitched man to himself, and he threw Dapertutto's elixir out of the window. A balsamic odor escaped from the broken phial. Erasmus ran to his chamber, shut himself up, and wept.
Towards midnight, the image of Giulietta appeared to him. His love and despair had no longer any bounds. "Oh, Giulietta!" cried he, "to see thee for the last time and then die!"
The door of the chamber opened without noise, and Giulietta, more beautiful than ever, found herself in the arms of Erasmus. After the first transports of their meeting, "Oh, my adored one!" exclaimed he, "if thou dost not wish me to become mad, take my life—but give me back my reflection?"
"But," said Giulietta, "I cannot do it until all the ties that attach thee to the world are broken without return."
"In that case," replied Erasmus, weeping, "if I cannot belong to thee as thou wishest, but by a crime, I prefer to die."
"My good Erasmus," said Giulietta, passing her arms around her lovers's neck, and fixing on him a look full of fascination, "no one wishes thee to commit the crime that frightens thee; but if thou wishest, my beloved, to be the eternal spouse of my beauty, take this parchment, and write these words: 'I give to Dapertutto full power to break the ties which bind me to earth. I wish to belong wholly to Giulietta, whom I have freely chosen for the companion of my body and soul, for all eternity.'"
Erasmus felt the coldness of death running through his ​nerves, whilst his lips burned under the kisses of the enchantress. Suddenly he saw rise up behind her Dapertutto, dressed in red, who presented to him an iron pen, saying:—"Write and sign!" At the same time, a little vein in the left hand of Erasmus burst, and the blood flowed.—"Sign, my beloved," murmured Giulietta. The work was about to be accomplished—Erasmus had dipped the pen into his blood, and leaned over to write, when a white figure came out of the floor, and placed itself between him and Giulietta.
"In the name of the Saviour," said the figure, sobbing, "do it not."
It was the shade of his mother! Erasmus threw the pen on the ground, and tore up the writing. Immediately the eyes of Giulietta threw out blood-red flames; her beautiful face decomposed, and her whole body became covered with greenish sparks. Erasmus Spicker made the sign of the cross, and Giulietta and Dapertutto vanished grumblingly in a whirlwind of sulphurous smoke, which extinguished the light. The poor man remained long in a faint. At the break of day, a fresh breeze re-animated him; he went back to his wife, whom he found still in bed, She held out her hand to him, and said, "Poor friend, I have learnt this night in a dream, the adventure which deprived thee of thy reflection in Italy. I pity and pardon thee. The power of the demon is great, but God is stronger than he. I hope that now the charm is destroyed, for I have prayed for thee all night long. Here, take this mirror and look."
Erasmus grew pale. The glass did not reproduce his face; and he let it fall. "Ah!" continued his wife, "it appears that thou has not done sufficient penitence. Well, my dear husband, thou must go back to Italy, and seek for thy reflection. Some good saint will perhaps force the devil to give it back to thee. Kiss me, Erasmus, and mayst thou have a good journey! When thou shalt have become a perfect man again, thou mayst come back to thy home; and thou shalt receive a good welcome."
​At these words, madame Spicker turned in the bed, towards the wall, shut her eyes, and commenced snoring almost immediately. Erasmus, his heart bursting with grief, tried to kiss his child; but the little one struggled, crying out like a whipped dog. The poor father placed him on the ground without saying a word, took his cane, and started immediately. Since that time he is travelling through the world. He met, one day, Peter Schlemihl, and these two unfortunate creatures made an agreement to travel in company, hiding each other's infirmities; so that Erasmus Spicker furnished his travelling companion with a shadow, who, in turn was to lend the reflection that was wanting. But they could not agree, and they separated, calling each other hard names, like two blackguards.
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