creak on the hinges, and
slow steps, heavy as iron, groaned through the passage and up the
stairs. "That is Coppelius," said my mother, turning pale.
"Yes!--that is Coppelius!" repeated my father, with a faint broken
voice. The tears started from my mother's eyes. "But father--father!"
she cried, "must it be so?" "He comes to me for the last time, I
promise you," was the answer. "Only go now--go with the
children--go--go to bed. Good night!"

I felt as if I were pressed into cold, heavy stone,--my breath was
stopped. My mother caught me by the arm as I stood immoveable. "Come,
come, Nathaniel!" I allowed myself to be led, and entered my chamber!
"Be quiet--be quiet--go to bed--go to sleep!" cried my mother after me;
but tormented by restlessness, and an inward anguish perfectly
indescribable, I could not close my eyes. The hateful, abominable
Coppelius stood before me with fiery eyes, and laughed at me
maliciously. It was in vain that I endeavoured to get rid of his
image. About midnight there was a frightful noise, like the firing of
a gun. The whole house resounded. There was a rattling and a rustling
by my door, and the house-door was closed with a violent sound. "That
is Coppelius!" I cried, and I sprang out of bed in terror. There was
then a shriek as if of acute inconsolable grief. I darted into my
father's room; the door was open, a suffocating smoke rolled towards
me, and the servant girl cried: "Ah, my master, my master!" On the
floor of the smoking hearth lay my father dead, with his face burned
and blackened, and hideously distorted,--my sisters were shrieking and
moaning around him,--and my mother had fainted. "Coppelius!--cursed
Satan, thou hast slain my father!" I cried, and lost my senses. When,
two days afterwards, my father was laid in his coffin, his features
were again as mild and gentle as they had been in his life. My soul
was comforted by the thought that his compact with the devilish
Coppelius could not have plunged him into eternal perdition.

The explosion had awakened the neighbours, the occurrence had become
the common talk, and had reached the ears of the magistracy, who wished
to make Coppelius answerable. He had, however, vanished from the spot,
without leaving a trace.

If I tell you, my dear friend, that the barometer-dealer was the
accursed Coppelius himself, you will not blame me for regarding a
phenomenon so unpropitious as boding some heavy calamity. He was