"How it occurred," I answered, "is of no consequence; but it was in this manner"--(and here I uttered an unblushing falsehood)--"he was travelling in Russia last winter, and one bitterly cold day it froze so intensely, that his shadow remained so fixed to the ground, that it was found impossible to remove it."
"The false shadow that I might paint," said the artist, "would be liable to be lost on the slightest movement, particularly in a person who, from your account, cares so little about his shadow. A person without a shadow should keep out of the sun, that is the only safe and rational plan."
He rose and took his leave, casting so penetrating a look at me, that I shrank from it. I sank back in my chair, and hid my face in my hands.
In this attitude Bendel found me, and was about to withdraw silently and respectfully on seeing me in such a state of grief: looking up, overwhelmed with my sorrows, I felt that I must communicate them to him.
"Bendel," I exclaimed, "Bendel, thou the only being who seest and respectest my grief too much to inquire into its cause--thou who seemest silently and sincerely to sympathise with me--come and share my confidence. The extent of my wealth I have not withheld from thee, neither will I conceal from thee the extent of my grief. Bendel! forsake me not. Bendel, you see me rich, free, beneficent; you fancy all the world in my power; yet you must have observed that I shun it, and avoid all human intercourse. You think Bendel, that the world and I are at variance; and you yourself, perhaps, will abandon me, when I acquaint you with this fearful secret. Bendel, I am rich, free, generous; but, O God, I have no shadow!"
"No shadow!" exclaimed the faithful young man, tears starting from his eyes. "Alas! that I am born to serve a master without a shadow!" He was silent, and again I hid my face in my hands.
"Bendel," at last I tremblingly resumed, "you have now my confidence; you may betray me--go--bear witness against me."
He seemed to be agitated with conflicting feelings; at last he threw himself at my feet and seized my hand, which he bathed with his tears. "No," he exclaimed; "whatever the world may say, I neither can nor will forsake my excellent master because he has lost his shadow. I will rather do what is right than what may seem prudent. I will remain with you--I will shade you with my own shadow--I will assist you when I can--and when I cannot, I will weep with you."
I fell upon his neck, astonished at sentiments so unusual; for it was very evident that he was not prompted by the love of money.
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