And there I sat, my eyes directed to the hand of the clock; the seconds, the minutes, as they tinkled, entered me like a dagger. I rose up at every sound I heard. The day began to dawn; the leaden hours crowded one on another; it was morning—evening—night. The hands of the timepiece moved slowly on, and hope was departing. It struck eleven, and nothing appeared. The last minutes of the last hour vanished—still nothing appeared; the first stroke—the last stroke of twelve sounded. I sank hopeless on my couch in ceaseless tears. To-morrow—shadowless for ever!—to-morrow I should solicit the hand of my beloved. Towards morning a heavy sleep closed my eyes.
CHAPTER V.
It was yet early, when I was awakened by the sound of voices violently disputing in my antechamber. I listened: Bendel was forbidding access to my door. Rascal swore loudly and deeply that he would take no orders from his fellow-servant, and insisted on rushing into my apartment. The good Bendel warned him that if such language reached my ears, he might perchance lose a profitable place; but Rascal threatened to lay violent hands upon him, if he impeded his entrance any longer.
I had half dressed myself. I angrily flung the door open, and called out to Rascal, “What dost want, thou scoundrel?” He retreated two paces, and answered with perfect coldness,
“Humbly to request, may it please your lordship, for once to show me your shadow; the sun is shining so beautifully in the court.”
I felt as if scathed by a thunderbolt, and it was long before I could utter a word: “How can a servant presume against his master that—” He interrupted me with provoking
calmness: “A servant may be a very honest man, and yet refuse to serve a shadowless master—I must have my discharge.” I tried another weapon.
“But, Rascal, my dear Rascal, who has put this wild notion into your head? How can you imagine—” But he continued in the same tone, “There are people who assert you have no shadow; so, in a word, either show me your shadow, or give me my discharge!”
Bendel, pale and trembling, but more discreet than I, made me a sign to seek a resource in the silence-imposing gold—but it had lost its power; Rascal flung it at my feet: “I will take nothing from a shadowless being.” He turned his back upon me, put his hat on his head, and went slowly out of the apartment whistling a tune. I stood there like a petrifaction—looking after him, vacant and motionless.