e greatly pleased at the intimacy
that had sprung up between his daughter Olimpia and Nathanael, and
showed the young man many unmistakable proofs of his good feeling
towards him; and when Nathanael ventured at length to hint very
delicately at an alliance with Olimpia, the Professor smiled all over
his face at once, and said he should allow his daughter to make a
perfectly free choice. Encouraged by these words, and with the fire of
desire burning in his heart, Nathanael resolved the very next day to
implore Olimpia to tell him frankly, in plain words, what he had long
read in her sweet loving glances,--that she would be his for ever. He
looked for the ring which his mother had given him at parting; he would
present it to Olimpia as a symbol of his devotion, and of the happy
life he was to lead with her from that time onwards. Whilst looking for
it he came across his letters from Clara and Lothair; he threw them
carelessly aside, found the ring, put it in his pocket, and ran across
to Olimpia. Whilst still on the stairs, in the entrance-passage, he
heard an extraordinary hubbub; the noise seemed to proceed from
Spalanzani's study. There was a stamping--a rattling--pushing--knocking
against the door, with curses and oaths intermingled. "Leave
hold--leave hold--you monster--you rascal--staked your life and honour
upon it?--Ha! ha! ha! ha!--That was not our wager--I, I made the
eyes--I the clock-work.--Go to the devil with your clock-work--you
damned dog of a watch-maker--be off--Satan--stop--you paltry
turner--you infernal beast!--stop--begone--let me go." The voices which
were thus making all this racket and rumpus were those of Spalanzani
and the fearsome Coppelius. Nathanael rushed in, impelled by some
nameless dread. The Professor was grasping a female figure by the
shoulders, the Italian Coppola held her by the feet; and they were
pulling and dragging each other backwards and forwards, fighting
furiously to get possession of her. Nathanael recoiled with horror on
recognising that the figure was Olimpia. Boiling with rage, he was
about to tear his beloved from the grasp of the madmen, when Coppola by
an extraordinary exertion of strength twisted the figure out of the
Professor's hands and gave him such a terrible blow with her, that he
reeled backwards and fell over the table all amongst the phials and
retorts, the bottles and glass cylinders, which covered it: all these
things were smashed into a thousand pieces. But