ed from his eyes. "Woe is me, that I was born to serve a
shadowless master!" He was silent, and I held my face buried in my
hands.

"Bendel," added I, at length, tremblingly--"now hast thou my
confidence, and now canst thou betray it--go forth and testify against
me?" He appeared to be in a heavy conflict with himself; at length, he
flung himself before me and seized my hand, which he bathed with his
tears.

"No!" exclaimed he, "think the world as it will, I cannot, and will
not, on account of a shadow, abandon my kind master; I will act
justly, and not with policy. I will continue with you, lend you my
shadow, help you when I can, and when I cannot, weep with you." I fell
on his neck, astonished at such unusual sentiment, for I was convinced
that he did it not for gold.

From that time my fate and my mode of life were in some degree
changed. It is indescribable how providently Bendel continued to
conceal my defect. He was everywhere before me and with me; foreseeing
everything, hitting on contrivances, and, where unforeseen danger
threatened, covering me quickly with his shadow, since he was taller
and bulkier than I. Thus I ventured myself again among men, and began
to play a part in the world. I was obliged, it is true, to assume many
peculiarities and humors, but such become the rich, and, so long
as the truth continued to be concealed, I enjoyed all the honor and
respect which were paid to my wealth. I looked more calmly forward to
the promised visit of the mysterious unknown, at the end of the year
and the day.

I felt, indeed, that I must not remain long in a place where I had
once been seen without a shadow, and where I might easily be betrayed.
Perhaps I yet thought too much of the manner in which I had introduced
myself to Thomas John, and it was a mortifying recollection. I would
therefore here merely make an experiment, to present myself with more
ease and self-reliance elsewhere, but that now occurred which held me
a long time riveted to my vanity, for there it is in the man that the
anchor bites the firmest ground.

Even the lovely Fanny, whom I in this place again encountered, honored
me with some notice without recollecting ever to have seen me before;
for I now had wit and sense. As I spoke, people listened, and I could
not, for the life of me, comprehend myself how I had arrived at the
art of maintaining and engrossing so easily the conversation. The
impression which I perceived that I had made