“Bendel!” cried I, “Bendel, thou only one who seest my affliction and respectest it, seekest not to pry into it, but appearest silently and kindly to sympathize, come to me, Bendel, and be the nearest to my heart; I have not locked from thee the treasure of my gold, neither will I lock from thee the treasure of my grief.  Bendel, forsake me not!  Bendel, thou beholdest me rich, liberal, kind.  Thou imaginest that the world ought to honor me, and thou seest me fly the world, and hide myself from it.  Bendel, the world has passed judgment, and cast me from it, and perhaps thou too wilt turn from me when thou knowest my fearful secret.  Bendel, I am rich, liberal, kind, but—­O God!—­I have no shadow!”

“No shadow!” cried the good youth with horror, and the bright tears gushed from his eyes.  “Woe is me, that I was born to serve a shadowless master!” He was silent, and I held my face buried in my hands.

“Bendel,” added I, at length, tremblingly—­“now hast thou my confidence, and now canst thou betray it—­go forth and testify against me?” He appeared to be in a heavy conflict with himself; at length, he flung himself before me and seized my hand, which he bathed with his tears.

“No!” exclaimed he, “think the world as it will, I cannot, and will not, on account of a shadow, abandon my kind master; I will act justly, and not with policy.  I will continue with you, lend you my shadow, help you when I can, and when I cannot, weep with you.”  I fell on his neck, astonished at such unusual sentiment, for I was convinced that he did it not for gold.

From that time my fate and my mode of life were in some degree changed.  It is indescribable how providently Bendel continued to conceal my defect.  He was everywhere before me and with me; foreseeing everything, hitting on contrivances, and, where unforeseen danger threatened, covering me quickly with his shadow, since he was taller and bulkier than I. Thus I ventured myself again among men, and began to play a part in the world.  I was obliged, it is true, to assume many peculiarities and humors, but such become the rich, and, so long as the truth continued to be concealed, I enjoyed all the honor and respect which were paid to my wealth.  I looked more calmly forward to the promised visit of the mysterious unknown, at the end of the year and the day.

I felt, indeed, that I must not remain long in a place where I had once been seen without a shadow, and where I might easily be betrayed.  Perhaps I yet thought too much of the manner in which I had introduced myself to Thomas John, and it was a mortifying recollection.  I would therefore here merely make an experiment, to present myself with more ease and self-reliance elsewhere, but that now occurred which held me a long time riveted to my vanity, for there it is in the man that the anchor bites the firmest ground.