Part 4 (1/2)

One evening the stranger sat out on the balcony. The light burnt in the room behind him; and thus it was quite natural that his shadow should fall on his opposite neighbor's wall. Yes! there it sat, directly opposite, between the flowers on the balcony; and when the stranger moved, the shadow also moved: for that it always does.

”I think my shadow is the only living thing one sees over there,” said the learned man. ”See! how nicely it sits between the flowers. The door stands half-open: now the shadow should be cunning, and go into the room, look about, and then come and tell me what it had seen.

Come, now! be useful, and do me a service,” said he, in jest. ”Have the kindness to step in. Now! art thou going?” and then he nodded to the shadow, and the shadow nodded again. ”Well then, go! but don't stay away.”

The stranger rose, and his shadow on the opposite neighbor's balcony rose also; the stranger turned round and the shadow also turned round.

Yes! if any one had paid particular attention to it, they would have seen, quite distinctly, that the shadow went in through the half-open balcony-door of their opposite neighbor, just as the stranger went into his own room, and let the long curtain fall down after him.

Next morning, the learned man went out to drink coffee and read the newspapers.

”What is that?” said he, as he came out into the suns.h.i.+ne. ”I have no shadow! So then, it has actually gone last night, and not come again.

It is really tiresome!”

This annoyed him: not so much because the shadow was gone, but because he knew there was a story about a man without a shadow.* It was known to everybody at home, in the cold lands; and if the learned man now came there and told his story, they would say that he was imitating it, and that he had no need to do. He would, therefore, not talk about it at all; and that was wisely thought.

* Peter Schlemihl, the shadowless man.

In the evening he went out again on the balcony. He had placed the light directly behind him, for he knew that the shadow would always have its master for a screen, but he could not entice it. He made himself little; he made himself great: but no shadow came again. He said, ”Hem! hem!” but it was of no use.

It was vexatious; but in the warm lands every thing grows so quickly; and after the lapse of eight days he observed, to his great joy, that a new shadow came in the suns.h.i.+ne. In the course of three weeks he had a very fair shadow, which, when he set out for his home in the northern lands, grew more and more in the journey, so that at last it was so long and so large, that it was more than sufficient.

The learned man then came home, and he wrote books about what was true in the world, and about what was good and what was beautiful; and there pa.s.sed days and years,--yes! many years pa.s.sed away.

One evening, as he was sitting in his room, there was a gentle knocking at the door.

”Come in!” said he; but no one came in; so he opened the door, and there stood before him such an extremely lean man, that he felt quite strange. As to the rest, the man was very finely dressed,--he must be a gentleman.

”Whom have I the honor of speaking to?” asked the learned man.

”Yes! I thought as much,” said the fine man. ”I thought you would not know me. I have got so much body. I have even got flesh and clothes.

You certainly never thought of seeing me so well off. Do you not know your old shadow? You certainly thought I should never more return.

Things have gone on well with me since I was last with you. I have, in all respects, become very well off. Shall I purchase my freedom from service? If so, I can do it;” and then he rattled a whole bunch of valuable seals that hung to his watch, and he stuck his hand in the thick gold chain he wore around his neck;--nay! how all his fingers glittered with diamond rings; and then all were pure gems.

”Nay; I cannot recover from my surprise!” said the learned man: ”what is the meaning of all this?”

”Something common, is it not,” said the shadow: ”but you yourself do not belong to the common order; and I, as you know well, have from a child followed in your footsteps, As soon as you found I was capable to go out alone in the world, I went my own way. I am in the most brilliant circ.u.mstances, but there came a sort of desire over me to see you once more before you die; you will die, I suppose? I also wished to see this land again,--for you know we always love our native land. I know you have got another shadow again; have I anything to pay to it or you? If so, you will oblige me by saying what it is.”

”Nay, is it really thou?” said the learned man: ”it is most remarkable: I never imagined that one's old shadow could come again as a man.”

”Tell me what I have to pay,” said the shadow; ”for I don't like to be in any sort of debt.”

”How canst thou talk so?” said the learned man; ”what debt is there to talk about? Make thyself as free as any one else. I am extremely glad to hear of thy good fortune: sit down, old friend, and tell me a little how it has gone with thee, and what thou hast seen at our opposite neighbor's there--in the warm lands.”

”Yes, I will tell you all about it,” said the shadow, and sat down: ”but then you must also promise me, that, wherever you may meet me, you will never say to any one here in the town that I have been your shadow. I intend to get betrothed, for I can provide for more than one family.”

”Be quite at thy ease about that,” said the learned man; ”I shall not say to any one who thou actually art: here is my hand--I promise it, and a man's bond is his word.”