Pale with fear, he drew back to the window, but at this moment the Michaelesque figure turned towards him, and he saw under the cocked hat the grimacing face of Drak, the fairy.
"Pale with fear, he drew back."
Michael uttered a cry.
"It is you, you villain, is it? I'll make you repent of your insolence if you don't instantly give me back my clothes."
So saying, he rushed to take them, but the fairy, turning sharply round, ran to the other side of the room. Michael was beside himself with anger and impatience, and rushed again towards the fairy, who this time passed between his legs and rushed out on to the staircase. Michael pursued him angrily up four flights of stairs till they arrived at the garret, where the fairy dodged him round and round, and then skipped out of the window. Michael, exasperated, took the same route. The malicious fairy led him from roof to roof, dragging the velvet breeches, the vest and coat in all the gutters, to Michael's despair. At length, after a peregrination of an hour or two across this Pyrenees of the cats and swallows, Drak gained a high chimney, at the foot of which his pursuer was forced to stop. Drak, leaning over towards Michael, who was out of breath and discouraged, said:
"You see, my good friend, you have forced me to spoil your ball-dress, but, happily, I see underneath me the copper of a laundress, where everything can be put right for you."
With these words Drak shook the velvet breeches over the chimney-pot.
"What are you doing, rascal?" cried Michael.
"I am sending your dress to the wash!" said the fairy.
And so saying, the vest, coat, and hat followed the breeches into the smoking gulf.
The young gallant sat down upon the roof with a cry of despair. But rising immediately said, with resolution:—
"Well, I'll go to the ball in my travelling dress."
