He waited with the utmost impatience for the equinox; till which, time seemed immeasurably long. The night preceding the eventful day, he could not close his eyes to sleep; and that he might be sure of not missing the friend with whom he was as yet unacquainted, he took his station ere sun-rise on the bridge, where no human being but himself was to be discovered. Replete with hopes of future good fortune, he formed a thousand projects in what way he should spend his money.
Already had he during the space of an hour, traversed the bridge alone, giving full scope to his imagination; when on a sudden the bridge presented a moving scene, and amongst others, many beggars took their several stations on it, to levy contributions on the passengers. The first of this tribe who asked charity of Francis was a poor vagabond with a wooden leg, who, being a pretty good physiognomist, judged from the gay and contented air of the young man, that his request would be crowned with success; and his conjecture was not erroneous, for he threw a demi-florin into his hat.
Francis, meanwhile, feeling persuaded that the friend he expected must belong to the highest class of society, felt no surprise at not seeing him at so early an hour, and waited therefore with patience. But as the hour for visiting the Exchange and Courts of Justice drew near, his eyes were in constant motion. He discovered at an immense distance every well-dressed person who came on the bridge, and his blood was in a perfect ferment as each approached him, for in some one of them did he hope to discover the author of his good fortune; but in vain he looked people in the face, no one paid attention to him. The beggars, who at noon were seated on the ground eating their dinner, remarking that the young man they had seen from the first of the morning, was the only person remaining with them on the bridge, and that he had not spoken to any one, or appeared to have any employment, took him for a lazy vagabond; and although they had received marks of his beneficence, they began to make game of him, and in derision called him the provost of the bridge. The physiognomist with the wooden leg observed, that his air was no longer so gay as in the morning, and that having drawn his hat over his face, he appeared entirely lost in thought, for he walked slowly along, nibbling an apple, with an abstracted air. The observer, resolving to benefit by what he had remarked, went to the further extremity of the bridge, and after well examining the visionary, came up to him as a stranger, asked his charity, and succeeded to his utmost wish; for Francis, without turning round his head, gave him another demi-florin.
In the afternoon, a crowd of new faces presented themselves to Francis’s observation, while he became quite weary at his friend’s tardiness; but hope still kept up his attention. However, the fast declining sun gave notice of the approach of night, and yet scarcely any of the passers-by had noticed Francis. Some few, perhaps, had returned his salutation, but not one had, as he expected and hoped, embraced him. At length, the day so visibly declined, that the bridge became nearly deserted; for even the beggars went away. A profound melancholy seized the heart of poor Francis, when he found his hopes thus deceived; and giving way to despair, he would have precipitated himself into the Weser, had not the recollection of Meta deterred him. He felt anxious, ere he terminated his days in so tragical a manner, to see her once again as she went to mass, and feast on the contemplation of her features.
He was preparing to quit the bridge, when the beggar with the wooden leg accosted him, for he had in vain puzzled his brain to discover what could possibly have caused the young man to remain on the bridge from morning till night. The poor cripple had waited longer than usual on account of Francis, in order to see when he went; but as he remained longer than he wished, curiosity at length induced him openly to address him, in order to learn what he so ardently desired to know.
“Pray excuse me, worthy sir,” said he: “and permit me to ask you a question.”
Francis, who was by no means in a mood to talk, and who now heard from the mouth of a beggar the words which he had so anxiously expected from a friend, answered him in rather an angry tone: “Well then, what is it you want to know, old man?”
“Sir, you and I were the first persons on this bridge to-day; and here we are still the only remaining two. As for me and my companions, it is pretty clear that we only came to ask alms; but it is equally evident you do not belong to our profession, and yet you have not quitted the bridge the whole day. My dear sir, for the love of God, if it is no secret, tell me, I entreat you, for what purpose you came, and what is the grief that rends your heart?”
“What can it concern you, old dotard, to know where the shoe pinches me, or what afflictions I am labouring under?”
“My good sir, I wish you well: you have twice bestowed your charity on me, which I hope the Almighty will return to you with interest. I could not but observe, however, this evening your countenance no longer looked gay and happy as in the morning; and, believe me, I was sorry to see the change.”