CHAPTER VIII
A pedestrian soon joined me, who begged, after he had walked for some time by the side of my horse, that, as we went the same way, he might be allowed to lay a cloak which he carried, on the steed behind me. I permitted it in silence. He thanked me with easy politeness for the trifling service; praised my horse; and thence took occasion to extol the happiness and power of the rich, and let himself, I know not how, fall into a kind of monologue, in which he had me now merely for a listener.
He unfolded his views of life and of the world, and came very soon upon metaphysics, whose task is to discover the Word that should solve all riddles. He stated his thesis with great clearness and proceeded onward to the proofs.
Thou knowest, my friend, that I have clearly discovered, since I have run through the schools of the philosophers, that I have by no means a turn for philosophical speculations, and that I have totally renounced for myself this field. Since then I have left many things to themselves; abandoned the desire to know and to comprehend many things; and as thou thyself advised me, have, trusting to my common sense, followed as far as I was able the voice within me in my own way. Now this rhetorician seemed to me to raise with great talent a firmly constructed fabric, which was at once self-based and self-supported, and stood as by an innate necessity. I missed in it completely, however, what most of all I was desirous to find, and so it became for me merely a work of art, whose elegant compactness and completeness served to charm the eye only; nevertheless I listened willingly to the eloquent man who drew my attention from my grief to him; and I would have gladly yielded myself wholly up to him, had he captivated my heart as much as my understanding.
Meanwhile the time had passed, and unobserved the dawn had already enlightened the heaven. I was horrified as I looked up suddenly, and saw the glory of colors unfold itself in the east, which announced the approach of the sun; while at this hour in which the shadows ostentatiously display themselves in their greatest extent, there was no protection from it; no refuge in the open country to be descried. And I was not alone! I cast a glance at my companion, and was again terror-stricken. It was no other than the man in the gray coat!
He smiled at my alarm, and went on without allowing me a single word. "Let, however, as is the way of the world, our mutual advantage for awhile unite us. It is all in good time for separating. The road here along the mountain-range, though you have not yet thought of it, is, nevertheless, the only one into which you could logically have struck. Down into the valley you cannot venture; and still less will you desire to return again over the heights whence you came; and this also happens to be my way. I see that you already turn pale before the rising sun. I will, for the time we keep company, lend you your shadow, and you, in exchange, tolerate me in your society. You have no longer your Bendel with you, I will do you good service. You do not like me, and I am sorry for it; but, notwithstanding, you can make use of me. The devil is not so black as he is painted. Yesterday you vexed me, it is true; I will not upbraid you with it today; and I have already shortened the way hither for you; that you must admit. Only just take your shadow again awhile on trial."
The sun had ascended; people appeared on the road; I accepted, though with internal repugnance, the proposal. Smiling he let my shadow glide to the ground, which immediately took its place on that of the horse, and trotted gaily by my side. I was in the strangest state of mind. I rode past a group of country-people, who made way for a man of consequence, reverently, and with bared heads. I rode on, and gazed with greedy eyes and a palpitating; heart on this my quondam shadow which I had now borrowed from a stranger, yes, from an enemy.
The man went carelessly near me, and even whistled a tune—he on foot, I on horseback; a dizziness seized me; the temptation was too great; I suddenly turned the reins, clapped spurs to the horse, and struck at full speed into a side-path. But I carried not off the shadow, which at the turning glided from the horse and awaited its lawful possessor on the high road. I was compelled with shame to turn back. The man in the gray coat, when he had calmly finished his tune, laughed at me, set the shadow right again for me and informed me that it would hang fast and remain with me only when I was disposed to become the rightful proprietor. "I hold you," continued he, "fast by the shadow, and you cannot escape me. A rich man, like you, needs a shadow; it cannot be otherwise, and you only are to blame that you did not perceive that sooner."
I continued my journey on the same road; the comforts and the splendor of life again surrounded me; I could move about free and conveniently, since I possessed a shadow, although only a borrowed one; and I everywhere inspired the respect which riches command. But I carried death in my heart. My strange companion, who gave himself out as the unworthy servant of the richest man in the world, possessed an extraordinary professional readiness, prompt and clever beyond comparison, the very model of a valet for a rich man, but he stirred not from my side, perpetually debating with me and ever manifesting his confidence that, at length, were it only to be rid of him, I would resolve to settle the affair of the shadow. He had become as burdensome to me as he was hateful. I was even in fear of him. He had made me dependent on him. He held me, after he had conducted me back into the glory of the world from which I had fled. I was almost obliged to tolerate his eloquence, and felt that he was in the right. A rich man must have a shadow, and, as I desired to command the rank which he had contrived again to make necessary to me, I saw but one issue. By this, however, I stood fast: after having sacrificed my love, after my life had been blighted, I would never sign away my soul to this creature, for all the shadows in the world. I knew not how it would end.
We sat, one day, before a cave which the strangers who frequent these mountains are accustomed to visit. One hears there the rush of subterranean streams roaring up from immeasurable depths, and the stone cast in seemed, in its resounding fall, to find no bottom. He painted to me, as he often did, with a vivid power of imagination and in the lustrous charms of the most brilliant colors, the most carefully finished pictures of what I might achieve in the world by virtue of my purse, if I had but once again my shadow in my possession. With my elbows resting on my knees, I kept my face concealed in my hands and listened to the false one, my heart divided between his seduction and my own strong will. I could not longer stand such an inward conflict, and the deciding strife began.
"You appear, sir, to forget that I have indeed allowed you, upon certain conditions, to remain in my company, but that I have reserved my perfect freedom."
"If you command it, I pack up."
He was accustomed to this menace. I was silent. He began immediately to roll up my shadow. I turned pale, but I let it proceed. There followed a long pause; he first broke it.
"You cannot bear me, sir. You hate me; I know it; yet why do you hate me? Is it because you attacked me on the highway, and sought to deprive me by violence of my bird's nest? Or is it because you have endeavored, in a thievish manner, to cheat me out of my property, the shadow, which was intrusted to you entirely on your honor? I, for my part, do not hate you in spite of all this. I find it quite natural that you should seek to avail yourself of all your advantages, cunning, and power. Neither do I object to your very strict principles and to your fancy to think like honesty itself. In fact, I think not so strictly as you; I merely act as you think. Or have I at any time pressed my finger on your throat in order to bring to me your most precious soul, for which I have a fancy? Have I, on account of my bartered purse, let a servant loose on you? Have I sought to swindle you out of it?" I had nothing to oppose to this, and he proceeded: "Very good, sir! very good! You cannot endure me; I know that very well, and am by no means angry with you for it. We must part, that is clear, and, in fact, you begin to be very wearisome to me. In order, then, to rid you of my continued, shame-inspiring presence, I counsel you once more to purchase this thing from me." I extended to him the purse: "At that price?"—"No!"
I sighed deeply, and added, "Be it so, then. I insist, sir, that we part, and that you no longer obstruct my path in a world which, it is to be hoped, has room enough in it for us both." He smiled, and replied: "I go, sir; but first let me instruct you how you may ring for me when you desire to see again your most devoted servant. You have only to shake your purse, so that the eternal gold pieces therein jingle, and the sound will instantly attract me. Every one thinks of his own advantage in this world. You see that I at the same time am thoughtful of yours, since I reveal to you a new power. Oh! this purse!—had the moths already devoured your shadow, that would still constitute a strong bond between us. Enough, you have me in my gold. Should you have any commands, even when far off, for your servant, you know that I can show myself very active in the service of my friends, and the rich stand particularly well with me. You have seen it yourself. Only your shadow, sir—allow me to tell you that—never again, except on one sole condition."
Forms of the past time swept before my soul. I demanded hastily—"Had you a signature from Mr. John?" He smiled. "With so good a friend it was by no means necessary." "Where is he? By God, I wish to know it!" He hesitatingly plunged his hand into his pocket, and, dragged thence by the hair, appeared Thomas John's ghastly disfigured form, and the blue death-lips moved themselves with heavy words: "Justo judicio Dei judicatus sum; justo judicio Dei condemnatus sum." I shuddered with horror, and dashing the ringing purse into the abyss, I spoke to him the last words—"I adjure thee, horrible one, in the name of God, take thyself hence, and never again show thyself in my sight!"
He arose gloomily, and instantly vanished behind the masses of rock which bounded this wild, overgrown spot.