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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.
This disgusted the painter not a little; and he cursed, internally, Bosswinkel and his wretched chatter, which was preventing him from making any approach to the young lady. At last there came up an acquaintance, who engaged him in conversation, and Edmund took advantage of this to go and sit down beside Albertine, who seemed to be very much pleased at his doing so.
Most honoured Herr Professor, I have no doubt that it is to you that I am indebted for this great happiness! to you alone! Ah! now I feel little doubt that Miss Albertine Bosswinkel for whose dear sake I was so very nearly jumping into the frog-pond won't make much difficulty about accepting me. Really, dearest Professor, you have rescued me from the very profoundest depths of misery.
And he was making for the door. But Bosswinkel held him fast, saying: "Wait till we see what happens." And, turning to the old Jew, he told him what Tussmann had said about him and the events of the previous night in the wineshop and in Alexander Place. Manasseh looked at Tussmann with a malignant grin, and said: "I don't know what the gentleman means.
In the height of their blissfulness the two lovers had not heard the elephantine tread of Tussmann's peculiar boot-like shoes, nor his opening of the door, nor his coming in, and striding into the middle of the room. He now squeaked out, in his high falsetto: "But Miss Albertine Bosswinkel!
Despair and die, good Tussmann; Thomasius can't help you! On, to a green death! Farewell, terrible Miss Albertine Bosswinkel! Your husband, that was to have been whom you despised so cruelly you will never see again! Here he goes, into the frog-pond!"
And thou shalt beg thy bread, in rags, before the doors of the despised people of God; and they shall drive thee away like a mangy cur, and thou shalt be cast to the earth like a rotten branch. And instead of the sound of the harp, moths shall be thy fellows, and dogs shall make a divan of the tomb of thy mother! Curses! curses! curses upon thee! Commissionsrath Melchior Bosswinkel!"
About this time it happened, one fine summer evening, that Herr Melchior Bosswinkel, Commissionsrath, who was taking his pleasure in the Thiergarten, could not manage to get a single one of his cigars to draw. He tried one after another, but every one of them was stopped up.
For Albertine Bosswinkel is as good as engaged already to Tussmann, the Clerk of the Privy Chancery." This terrible piece of news sent Edmund into the wildest despair. Leonhard waited patiently till the first paroxysm was past, and then asked if he really wanted to marry Albertine.
"If you don't let Edmund have your daughter," the Goldsmith continued, "he will have his revenge." "Pretty story!" answered Bosswinkel. "What revenge is this little bit of a beggar, who dribbles paints on to canvas, and hasn't a farthing to bless himself with, going to take upon Commissionsrath Melchior Bosswinkel, I should like to know?" "I'll tell you that in a moment," said the Goldsmith.
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