"
Precisely at eleven o'clock I extinguished my study-lamp and glided
forth to Archivarius Lindhorst, who was already waiting for me in the
lobby.
"Are you there, my worthy friend? Well, this is what I like, that you
have not mistaken my good intentions; do but follow me!"
And with this he led the way through the garden, now filled with
dazzling brightness, into the azure chamber, where I observed the same
violet table at which Anselmus had been writing.
Archivarius Lindhorst disappeared, but soon came back, carrying in his
hand a fair golden goblet out of which a high blue flame was sparkling
up. "Here," said he, "I bring you the favorite drink of your friend
the Bandmaster, Johannes Kreisler.[45] It is burning arrack, into
which I have thrown a little sugar. Sip a touch or two of it; I will
doff my nightgown, and, to amuse myself and enjoy your worthy company
while you sit looking and writing, shall just bob up and down a little
in the goblet."
"As you please, honored Herr Archivarius," answered I: "but if I am to
ply the liqueur, you will get none."
"Don't fear that, my good fellow," cried the Archivarius; then hastily
threw off his nightgown, mounted, to my no small amazement, into the
goblet, and vanished in the blaze. Without fear, softly blowing black
the flame, I partook of the drink; it was truly delicious!
Stir not the emerald leaves of the palm-trees in soft sighing and
rustling, as if kissed by the breath of the morning wind? Awakened
from their sleep, they move and mysteriously whisper of the wonders
which, from the far distance, approach like tones of melodious harps!
The azure rolls from the walls, and floats like airy vapor to and
fro; but dazzling beams shoot through the perfume which, whirling
and dancing, as in jubilee of childlike sport, mounts and mounts to
immeasurable heights, and vaults over the palm-trees.
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