" The
student Anselmus, in daintily and elegantly kissing Veronica's hand
felt a small soft pressure from it, which shot like a stream of fire
over all his frame. Veronica was cheerfulness, was grace itself; and
when Paulmann left them for his study, she contrived, by all manner of
rogueries and waggeries, so to uplift the student Anselmus that he at
last quite forgot his bashfulness, and jigged round the room with the
light-headed maiden. But here again the Demon of Awkwardness got hold
of him; he jolted a table, and Veronica's pretty little work-box fell
to the floor. Anselmus picked it up; the lid had sprung, and a little
round metallic mirror was glittering on him, into which he looked with
peculiar delight. Veronica glided softly up to him, laid her hand on
his arm, and, pressing close to him, looked over his shoulder into the
mirror also. And now Anselmus felt as if a battle were beginning
in his soul; thoughts, images flashed out--Archivarius
Lindhorst--Serpentina--the green Snake--at last the tumult abated, and
all this chaos arranged and shaped itself into distinct consciousness.
It was now clear to him that he had always thought of Veronica alone;
nay, that the form which had yesterday appeared to him in the blue
chamber had been no other than Veronica; and that the wild legend of
the Salamander's marriage with the green Snake had merely been written
down by him from the manuscript, but nowise related in his hearing.
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