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Updated: June 19, 2025
Manasseh roared; and took a thin cord, fastened in a sort of knot, out of his pocket, which he threw to the Commissionsrath, crying "Throw that about the brute's neck the Goldsmith, I mean and then drag him out of the room. Never mind about ceremony. Do as I tell you. All will be right then."
If you had read Hafftitz's Chronicon, you would have seen that much more extraordinary things of the kind have happened here. Commissionsrath, I go so far as to assert, and to feel quite convinced, that this Goldsmith is the very Devil, in propria persona." "Pooh, pooh!" said Bosswinkel, "I wish you wouldn't talk such nonsense. Think a little.
Only rid me of this terrible enchantment as you can, if you choose. 'Tussmann! he said, in that awful hollow voice of his, 'nothing shall annoy you more, if you will take your solemn oath, here where we stand, to give up all idea of marrying Miss Albertine Bosswinkel. Commissionsrath! you may fancy what I felt when this atrocious proposition was made to me.
He put in a most careful outline, and then rubbed it out again; outlined once more carefully begun to lay on some colour, and then threw the whole thing aside; commenced again; altered the pose. There was always either too much light in the room, or not enough. The Commissionsrath, who had always been present at those sittings at first, got tired presently, and betook himself elsewhere.
Without wasting a thought on Albertine or the Commissionsrath, Tussmann went and sat down in an armchair in a corner, stuck the book into his pocket, pulled it out again, and it was easy to see, by the delight in his countenance, how completely the Goldsmith's promise had been fulfilled. It was the Baron's turn next.
And yet I hope to place the ring on her lovely finger very shortly indeed." "Come away from one another, you two," the Commissionsrath cried out, and forced Albertine out of Edmund's arms. But Edmund shouted that he would never give her up, if it cost him his life. "Indeed, sir!" said the Commissionsrath, with scathing irony. "Nice business, upon my word!
And he told the Commissionsrath all that had happened to him from the time when he first came across the mysterious and fabulous sort of Goldsmith, till he had made his escape from the winehouse as fast as he could, in his terror at the sorcery which was going on there. "Tussmann, old fellow," said Bosswinkel, "I see what it is, you're not accustomed to liquoring up.
Bosswinkel ran up and down the room like a lunatic, crying over and over again, "It's all over with me; I am a miserable man, a ruined Commissionsrath. O Lord, if I only could get the girl off my shoulders; the devil take the whole lot of them, Lehsen, and Benjie, and my old Tussmann into the bargain." "Now," said the Goldsmith, "there is one way of getting out of all this mess."
The Commissionsrath took hold of the noose, but instead of throwing it about the Goldsmith's neck, he threw it over the Jew's; and immediately he and the Jew began flying up to the ceiling and then down again.
For the rest, he made a portrait of a well-looking, good-tempered, handsomely-dressed man, who did display, in some of the features of his face, a more or less distant resemblance to the Commissionsrath; so that nobody who read what was on the envelope could make any mistake as to whom the portrait was intended for. The Commissionsrath was delighted with it.
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