ard an old
woman's voice, "Heigh, young man, you have lost your shadow!"

"Thank you," I said, threw her a gold piece, and sought the shade of the
trees. But I had to cross a broad street again, just as a group of boys
were leaving school. They shouted at me, jeered, and threw mud at me. To
keep them away I threw a handful of gold among them, and jumped into a
carriage. Now I began to feel what I had sacrificed. What was to become
of me?

At the inn I sent for my things, and then made the driver take me to the
best hotel, where I engaged the state rooms and locked myself up. And
what, my dear Chamisso, do you think I did then? I pulled masses of gold
out of the bag, covered the floor of the room with ducats, threw myself
upon them, made them tinkle, rolled over them, buried my hands in them,
until I was exhausted and fell to sleep. Next morning I had to cart all
these coins into a cupboard, leaving only just a few handfuls. Then,
with the help of the host, I engaged some servants, a certain Bendel, a
good, faithful soul, being specially recommended to me as a valet. I
spent the whole day with tailors, bootmakers, jewellers, merchants, and
bought a heap of precious things, just to get rid of the heaps of gold.

I never ventured out in daytime; and even at night when I happened to
step out into the moonlight, I had to suffer untold anguish from the
contemptuous sneers of men, the deep pity of women, the shuddering fear
of fair maidens. Then I sent Bendel to search for the grey man, giving
him every possible indication. He came back late, and told me that none
of Mr. John's servants or guests remembered the stranger, and that he
could find no trace of him. "By the way," he concluded, "a gentleman
whom I met just as I went out, bid me tell you that he was on the point
of leaving the country, and that in a year and a day he would call on
you to propose new business. He said you would know who he was."

"How did he look?" Bendel described the man in the grey coat! He was in
despair when I told him that this was the very person I wanted. But it
was too late; he had gone without leaving a trace.

A famous artist for whom I sent to ask him whether he could paint me a
shadow, told me that he might, but I should be bound to lose it again at
the slightest movement.

"How did you manage to lose yours?" he asked. I had to lie. "When I was
travelling in Russia it froze so firmly to the ground that I could not
get it off again."