id="pgepubid00032"/>I could muster up courage enough, to inquire something about the extraordinary grey man.  Oh, had I been thus privileged to escape!

I had hastily glided through the rose-grove, descended the hill, and found myself on a wide grassplot, when, alarmed with the apprehension of being discovered wandering from the beaten path, I looked around me with enquiring apprehension.  How was I startled when I saw the old man in the grey coat behind, and advancing towards me!  He immediately took off his hat, and bowed to me more profoundly than any one had ever done before.  It was clear he wished to address me, and without extreme rudeness I could not avoid him.  I, in my turn, uncovered myself, made my obeisance, and stood still with a bare head, in the sunshine, as if rooted there.  I shook with terror while I saw him approach; I felt like a bird fascinated by a rattlesnake.  He appeared sadly perplexed, kept his eyes on the ground, made several bows, approached nearer, and with a low and trembling voice, as if he were asking alms, thus accosted me:—

“Will the gentleman forgive the intrusion of one who has stopt him in this unusual way?  I have a request to make, but pray pardon . . .”—“In the name of heaven, Sir!” I cried out in my anguish, “what can I do for one who—”  We

both started back, and methought both blushed deeply.

After a momentary silence he again began: “During the short time when I enjoyed the happiness of being near you, I observed, Sir,—will you allow me to say so—I observed, with unutterable admiration, the beautiful, beautiful shadow in the sun, which with a certain noble contempt, and perhaps without being aware of it, you threw off from your feet; forgive me this, I confess, too daring intrusion, but should you be inclined to transfer it to me?”

He was silent, and my head turned round like a water-wheel.  What could I make of this singular proposal for disposing of my shadow?  He is crazy! thought I; and with an altered tone, yet more forcible, as contrasted with the humility of his own, I replied:

“How is this, good friend?  Is not your own shadow enough for you?  This seems to me a whimsical sort of bargain indeed.”  He began again, “I have in my pocket many matters which might not be quite unacceptable to the gentleman; for this invaluable shadow I deem any price too little.”

A chill came over me: I remembered what I had seen, and knew not how to address him who I had just ventured to call my good friend. 

I spoke again, and assumed an extraordinary courtesy to set matters in order.

“Pardon, Sir, pardon your most humble servant, I do not quite understand your meaning; how can my shadow—”  He interrupted me: “I only beg your permission to be allowed to lift up your noble shadow, and put it in my pocket: how to do it is my own affair.  As a proof of my gratitude for the gentleman, I leave him the choice of all the jewels which my pocket affords; the genuine divining rods, mandrake roots, change pennies, money extractors, the napkins of Rolando’s Squire, and divers other miracle-workers,—a choice assortment; but all this is not fit for you—better that you should have Fortunatus’s wishing-cap, restored spick and span new; and also a fortune-bag which belonged to him.”  “Fortunatus’s fortune-bag!” I exclaimed; and, great as had been my terror, all my senses were now enraptured by the sound.  I became dizzy,—and nothing but double ducats seemed sparkling before my eyes.

“Condescend, Sir, to inspect and make a trial of this bag.”  He put his hand into his pocket, and drew from it a moderately sized, firmly-stitched purse of thick cordovan, with two convenient leather cords hanging to it, which he presented to me.  I instantly dipped

into it, drew from it ten pieces of gold, and ten more, and ten more, and yet ten more;—I stretched out my hand.  “Done! the bargain is made; I give you my shadow for your purse.”  He grasped my hand, and knelt down behind me, and with wonderful dexterity I perceived him loosening my shadow from the ground from head to foot;—he lifted it up;—he rolled it together and folded it, and at last put it into his pocket.  He then stood erect, bowed to me again, and returned back to the rose grove.  I thought I heard him laughing softly to himself.  I held, however, the purse tight by its strings—the earth was sun-bright all around me—and my senses were still wholly confused.

CHAPTER II.

At last I came to myself, and hastened from a place where apparently I had nothing more to do.  I first filled my pockets with gold, then firmly secured the strings of the purse round my neck, taking care to conceal the purse itself in my bosom.  I left the park unnoticed, reached the high road, and bent my way to the town.  I was walking thoughtfully towards the gate, when I heard a voice behind me: “Holla! young Squire! holla! don’t you hear?”  I looked round—an old woman was calling after me;—“Take care, sir, take care—you have lost your shadow!”—“Thanks, good woman.”—I threw her a piece of gold for her well-meant counsel, and walked away under the trees.

At the gate I was again condemned to hear from the sentinel, “Where has the gentleman left his shadow?” and immediately afterwards a couple of women exclaimed, “Good heavens! the poor fellow has no shadow!”  I began to be vexed, and carefully avoided walking in the

sun.  This I could not always do: for instance, in the Broad-street, which I was next compelled to cross; and as ill-luck would have it, at the very moment when the boys were being released from school.  A confounded hunch-backed vagabond—I see him at this moment—had observed that I wanted a shadow.  He instantly began to bawl out to the young tyros of the suburbs, who first criticised me, and then bespattered me with mud: “Respectable people are accustomed to carry their shadows with them when they go into the sun.”  I scattered handfuls of gold among them to divert their attention; and, with the assistance of some compassionate souls, sprang into a hackney coach.  As soon as I found myself alone in the rolling vehicle, I began to weep bitterly.  My inward emotion suggested to me, that even as in this world gold weighs down both merit and virtue, so a shadow might possibly be more valuable than gold itself; and that, as I had sacrificed my riches to my integrity on other occasions, so now I had given up my shadow for mere wealth; and what ought, what could become of me?

I continued still sadly discomposed, when the coach stopped before the old tavern.  I was shocked at the thought of again entering that

vile garret.  I sent for my baggage, took up the miserable bundle with contempt, threw the servants some pieces of gold, and ordered to be driven to the principal hotel.  The house faced the north, so I had nothing to fear from the sun.  I dismissed the driver with gold, selected the best front room, and locked myself in as soon as possible.

And how do you imagine I employed myself?  Oh! my beloved Chamisso, I blush to confess it even to you.  I drew forth the luckless purse from my bosom, and impelled by a sort of madness which burned and spread within me like a furious conflagration, I shook out gold, and gold, and gold, and still more gold;—strewed it over the floor, trampled on it, and made it tinkle, and feasting my weak senses on the glitter and the