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Updated: May 1, 2025
Conrector Paulmann and Registrator Heerbrand raised a horse-laugh, which reverberated through the room, and, in the intervals, Veronica was moaning and whimpering, as if torn by nameless sorrow; but as to the student Anselmus, the madness of inward horror was darting through him, and unconsciously he ran out of the door, into the street. Instinctively he reached his house, his garret.
The director continued to read: "His majesty will propose a last opportunity to the obstinate and inconsiderate young lady to reinstate her own honor, and release at the same time Conrector Moritz. His majesty has personal knowledge of the latter, and respects his scholarly attainments and capability and would bring an end to this affair for the general good.
You must be weary with the journey, so rest awhile now, then dine with me, and afterward go to the conference." "Sire, will you not receive my protege, Conrector Moritz?" "Did you not say that he begged for a secret audience?"
He turned, perfectly unembarrassed and not at all ashamed to have been discovered in such an humble and poor position." "That is to say, he is a good comedian," said the king. "He knew that you would drive past there, and placed himself expressly to call your attention to him." "I beg pardon, sire; Conrector Moritz could not have known that I would take this journey.
Yes, I am mad too! mad too!" And with this, Conrector Paulmann started up, tore the peruke from his head and dashed it against the ceiling of the room, till the battered locks whizzed, and, tangled into utter disorder, rained down the powder far and wide.
My compliments to Herr Conrector Paulmann, if you see him; and come tomorrow precisely at noon. The fee for this day is lying in your right waistcoat-pocket." The student Anselmus actually found the clear speziesthaler in the pocket indicated; but he took no joy in it.
Then the student Anselmus awoke from his dreams, and said, as he touched glasses with Registrator Heerbrand "That proceeds, respected Herr Registrator, from the circumstance that Archivarius Lindhorst is in reality a Salamander, who wasted in his fury the Spirit-prince Phosphorus' garden, because the green Snake had flown away from him." "How? What?" inquired Conrector Paulmann.
On returning to his senses, he was lying on his own poor truckle-bed; Conrector Paulmann was standing before him, and saying: "For Heaven's sake, what mad stuff is this, dear Herr Anselmus?" Archivarius Lindhorst's Garden, with some Mocking birds. The Golden Pot. English current-hand. Pot-hooks. The Prince of the Spirits.
Registrator Heerbrand whispered something in Conrector Paulmann's ear, to which the latter answered, but in so low a tone that Anselmus could distinguish nothing but the words: "Such attacks never noticed them before?"
"Ah! most honored Registrator," answered Conrector Paulmann, "you have always had a tendency to the Poetica; and thus one falls into fantasies and romantic humors."
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