power over you, that it is only the belief in
their hostile power which can in reality make them dangerous to you. If
every line of your letter did not betray the violent excitement of your
mind, and if I did not sympathise with your condition from the bottom
of my heart, I could in truth jest about the advocate Sand-man and
weather-glass hawker Coppelius. Pluck up your spirits! Be cheerful! I
have resolved to appear to you as your guardian-angel if that ugly man
Coppola should dare take it into his head to bother you in your dreams,
and drive him away with a good hearty laugh. I'm not afraid of him and
his nasty hands, not the least little bit; I won't let him either as
advocate spoil any dainty tit-bit I've taken, or as Sand-man rob me of
my eyes.
My darling, darling Nathanael,
Eternally your, &c. &c.

* * * * * *

NATHANAEL TO LOTHAIR.

I am very sorry that Clara opened and read my last letter to you; of
course the mistake is to be attributed to my own absence of mind. She
has written me a very deep philosophical letter, proving conclusively
that Coppelius and Coppola only exist in my own mind and are phantoms
of my own self, which will at once be dissipated, as soon as I look
upon them in that light. In very truth one can hardly believe that the
mind which so often sparkles in those bright, beautifully smiling,
childlike eyes of hers like a sweet lovely dream could draw such subtle
and scholastic distinctions. She also mentions your name. You have been
talking about me. I suppose you have been giving her lectures, since
she sifts and refines everything so acutely. But enough of this!
I must now tell you it is most certain that the weather-glass hawker
Giuseppe Coppola is not the advocate Coppelius. I am attending the
lectures of our recently appointed Professor of Physics, who, like the
distinguished naturalist,[3] is called Spalanzani, and is of Italian
origin. He has known Coppola for many years; and it is also easy to
tell from his accent that he really is a Piedmontese. Coppelius was a
German, though no honest German, I fancy. Nevertheless I am not quite
satisfied. You and Clara will perhaps take me for a gloomy dreamer, but
nohow can I get rid of the impression which Coppelius's cursed face
made upon me. I am glad to learn from Spalanzani that he has left the
town. This Profes