He
stretched out his arms to clasp her, but the dreamy shape had
vanished, and he awoke cheerful and refreshed. He could not but laugh
heartily at the effects of the punch; but in thinking of Veronica, he
felt pervaded by a most delightful feeling. "To her alone," said he
within himself, "do I owe this return from my insane whims. In good
sooth, I was little better than the man who believed himself to be of
glass; or he who durst not leave his room for fear the hens should eat
him, as he imagined himself to be a barleycorn. But as soon as I am
Hofrat I will marry Mademoiselle Paulmann and be happy, and there's an
end of it."
At noon, as he walked through Archivarius Lindhorst's garden, he
could not help wondering how all this had once appeared so strange and
marvelous to him. He now saw nothing but common, earthen flowerpots,
quantities of geraniums, myrtles, and the like. Instead of the
glittering party-colored birds which used to flout him, there were
only a few sparrows fluttering hither and thither, which raised an
unpleasant, unintelligible cry at sight of Anselmus. The azure room
also had quite a different look; and he could not understand how that
glaring blue, and those unnatural golden trunks of palm-trees, with
their shapeless glistening leaves, should ever have pleased him for a
moment. The Archivarius looked at him with a most peculiar, ironical
smile, and asked: "Well, how did you like the punch last night, good
Anselmus?"
"Ah, doubtless you have heard from the gray Parrot how--" answered the
student Anselmus, quite ashamed; but he stopped short, bethinking him
that this appearance of the Parrot was all a piece of jugglery of the
confused senses.
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