nd heard him utter a sarcastic laugh. The key was
turned in the door, which was opened. The forest-master appeared with a
paper in his hand.

Suddenly my head was, as it were, enveloped in a mist. I looked up,
and, oh horror! the grey-coated man was at my side, peering in my face
with a satanic grin. He had extended the mist-cap[1] he wore over my
head. His shadow and my own were lying together at his feet, in perfect
amity. He kept twirling in his hand the well-known parchment, with an
air of indifference; and while the ranger, absorbed in thought, and
intent upon his paper, paced up and down the arbour, my tormentor
confidentially leaned towards me, and whispered, "So, Mr. Schlemihl,
you have at length accepted my invitation; and here we sit, two heads
under one hood, as the saying is. Well, well, all in good time. But now
you can return me my bird's nest--you have no further occasion for it;
and I am sure you are too honourable a man to withhold it from me. No
need of thanks, I assure you; I had infinite pleasure in lending it to
you."

He took it out of my unresisting hand, put it into his pocket, and then
broke into so loud a laugh at my expense, that the forest-master turned
round, startled at the sound. I was petrified.

"You must acknowledge," he continued, "that in our position a hood is
much more convenient. It serves to conceal not only a man, but his
shadow, or as many shadows as he chooses to carry. I, for instance,
to-day bring two, you perceive." He laughed again. "Take notice,
Schlemihl, that what a man refuses to do with a good grace in the first
instance, he is always in the end compelled to do. I am still of
opinion that you ought to redeem your shadow and claim your bride (for
it is yet time); and as to Rascal, he shall dangle at a rope's end--no
difficult matter, so long as we can find a bit. As a mark of
friendship, I will give you my cap into the bargain."

The mother now came out, and the following conversation took place:
"What is Minna doing?"

"She is weeping."

"Silly child! what good can that do?"

"None, certainly; but it is so soon to bestow her hand on another. O
husband, you are too harsh to your poor child."

"No, wife; you view things in a wrong light. When she finds herself the
wife of a wealthy and honourable man, her tears will soon cease; she
will waken out of a dream, as it were, happy, and grateful to Heaven
and to her parents, as you will see."

"Heaven grant it may