the student Anselmus, "are you
not aware that I must go to Archivarius Lindhorst's and copy?"

"Look you, Amice!" said Conrector Paulmann, holding up his watch,
which pointed to half-past twelve.

The student Anselmus saw clearly that he was much too late for
Archivarius Lindhorst; and he complied with the Corrector's wishes the
more readily as he might now hope to look at Veronica the whole day
long, to obtain many a stolen glance and little squeeze of the hand,
nay, even to succeed in conquering a kiss--so high had the student
Anselmus' desires now mounted; he felt more and more contented in
soul, the more fully he convinced himself that he should soon be
delivered from all the fantastic imaginations, which really might have
made a sheer idiot of him.

Registrator Heerbrand came, as he had promised, after dinner; and
coffee being over, and the dusk come on, the Registrator, his face
puckering up to a smile and gaily rubbing his hands, signified that he
had something about him which, if mingled and reduced to form, as it
were paged and titled, by Veronica's fair hands, might be pleasant to
them all, on this October evening.

"Come out, then, with this mysterious substance which you carry
with, you, most valued Registrator," cried Conrector Paulmann. Then
Registrator Heerbrand shoved his hand into his deep pocket, and at
three journeys brought out a bottle of arrack, some citrons, and a
quantity of sugar. Before half an hour had passed, a savory bowl of
punch was smoking on Paulmann's table. Veronica served the beverage;
and ere long there was plenty of gay, good-natured chat among the
friends. But the student Anselmus, as the spirit of the punch mounted
into his head, felt all the images of those wondrous things, which for
some time he had experienced, again coming through his mind. He
saw the Archivarius in his damask nightgown, which glittered like
phosphorus; he saw the azure room, the golden palm-trees; nay, it now
seemed to him as if he must still believe in Serpentina; there was a
fermentation, a conflicting tumult in his soul. Veronica handed him
a glass of punch; and in taking it, he gently touched her hand.
"Serpentina! Veronica!" sighed he to himself. He sank into deep
dreams; but Registrator Heerbrand cried quite aloud: "A strange old
gentleman, whom nobody can fathom, he is and will be, this Archivarius
Lindhorst. Well, long life to him! Your glass, Herr Anselmus!"

Then the student Anselmus awoke fro