clear himself. But he had disappeared from the
place, leaving no traces behind him.

Now when I tell you, my dear friend, that the weather-glass hawker I
spoke of was the villain Coppelius, you will not blame me for seeing
impending mischief in his inauspicious reappearance. He was differently
dressed; but Coppelius's figure and features are too deeply impressed
upon my mind for me to be capable of making a mistake in the matter.
Moreover, he has not even changed his name. He proclaims himself here,
I learn, to be a Piedmontese mechanician, and styles himself Giuseppe
Coppola.

I am resolved to enter the lists against him and revenge my father's
death, let the consequences be what they may.

Don't say a word to mother about the reappearance of this odious
monster. Give my love to my darling Clara; I will write to her when I
am in a somewhat calmer frame of mind. Adieu, &c.

* * * * * *

CLARA TO NATHANAEL.

You are right, you have not written to me for a very long time, but
nevertheless I believe that I still retain a place in your mind and
thoughts. It is a proof that you were thinking a good deal about me
when you were sending off your last letter to brother Lothair, for
instead of directing it to him you directed it to me. With joy I tore
open the envelope, and did not perceive the mistake until I read the
words, "Oh! my dear, dear Lothair." Now I know I ought not to have read
any more of the letter, but ought to have given it to my brother. But
as you have so often in innocent raillery made it a sort of reproach
against me that I possessed such a calm, and, for a woman, cool-headed
temperament that I should be like the woman we read of--if the house
was threatening to tumble down, I should, before hastily fleeing, stop
to smooth down a crumple in the window-curtains--I need hardly tell you
that the beginning of your letter quite upset me. I could scarcely
breathe; there was a bright mist before my eyes. Oh! my darling
Nathanael! what could this terrible thing be that had happened?
Separation from you--never to see you again, the thought was like a
sharp knife in my heart. I read on and on. Your description of that
horrid Coppelius made my flesh creep. I now learnt for the first time
what a terrible and violent death your good old father died. Brother
Lothair, to whom I handed over his property, sought to comfort me, but
with little success. That hor