I resolved to steal away from the company, which from the insignificant part I played in it seemed to me an easy affair.  I proposed to myself to return to the city, to try my luck again on the morrow with Mr. John, and if I could muster the necessary courage, to question him about the singular gray man.  Had I only had the good fortune to escape so well!

I had already actually succeeded in stealing through the rosary, and, in descending the hill, found myself on a piece of lawn, when, fearing to be encountered in crossing the grass out of the path, I cast an inquiring glance round me.  What was my terror to behold the man in the gray coat behind me, and making toward me!  In the next moment he took off his hat before me, and bowed so low as no one had ever yet done to me.  There was no doubt but that he wished to address me, and, without being rude, I could not prevent it.  I also took off my hat; bowed also; and stood there in the sun with bare head as if rooted to the ground.  I stared at him full of terror, and was like a bird which a serpent has fascinated.  He himself appeared very much embarrassed.  He raised not his eyes; again bowed repeatedly; drew nearer, and addressed me with a soft, tremulous voice, almost in a tone of supplication.

“May I hope, sir, that you will pardon my boldness in venturing in so unusual a manner to approach you, but I would ask a favor.  Permit me most condescendingly——­”

“But in God’s name!” exclaimed I in my trepidation, “what can I do for a man who—­” we both started, and, as I believe, reddened.

After a moment’s silence, he again resumed:  “During the short time that I had the happiness to find myself near you, I have, sir, many times—­allow me to say it to you—­really contemplated with inexpressible admiration, the beautiful, beautiful, shadow which, as it were, with a certain noble disdain, and without yourself remarking it, you cast from you in the sunshine.  The noble shadow at your feet there.  Pardon me the bold supposition, but possibly you might not be indisposed to make this shadow over to me.”

He was silent, and a mill-wheel seemed to whirl round in my head.  What was I to make of this singular proposition to sell my own shadow?  He must be mad, thought I, and with an altered tone which was more assimilated to that of his own humility, I answered thus: 

“Ha! ha! good friend, have not you then enough of your own shadow?  I take this for a business of a very singular sort—­”

He hastily interrupted me—­“I have many things in my pocket which, sir, might not appear worthless to you, and for this inestimable shadow I hold the very highest price too small.”

It struck cold through me again as I was reminded of the pocket.  I knew not how I could have called him good friend.  I resumed the conversation, and sought, if possible, to set all right again by excessive politeness.

“But, sir, pardon your most humble servant; I do not understand your meaning.  How indeed could my shadow”—­he interrupted me—­