I could not end my sentence. The pallor of his good, true-hearted face shewed me how much more deeply he was affected by this conversation than I, for whom indeed it had a certain romantic charm. I felt fond of him again. "Listen," said I, "we shall never get on this way. I see that neither of us will retire of his own free will. Fate must decide." "Fate?" "Or chance if you prefer it. I will throw down this piece of money. If the royal arms are uppermost, you have won; if the inscription--" "Do so," he whispered. "Although it would be fairer--" "Will you cry done?" "Done!" The coin fell to the ground. I stooped down in the dim light we were standing in to make sure of the fact. "Which is uppermost?" I could hear him murmur, while he leaned against the door-post. He himself did not venture to look. "Bastel," said I, "it cannot be helped. The inscription is uppermost. You understand that having once appealed to the decision of Providence--" He did not move, and not a sound escaped his lips. When I drew myself up and looked at him, I saw that his eyes were closed, and that he stood as if in a trance. "Don't take it so to heart," said I. "Who knows but that in two or three days I may come and tell you that she does not suit me, that the field is open for you, and that--" "Good night," he suddenly whispered, and rushed away at full speed. I only remained behind for a moment. At this abrupt departure the scales fell from my eyes. I was conscious that my feelings for the mysterious being were not to be compared with his, and that I should be a villain if I were to take advantage of this foolish appeal to chance. In twenty yards I had caught him up, and had to employ all my strength to keep hold of him, for he was bent on getting away. "Hear me," I said. "I have changed my mind. Nay, you _must_ hear me, or I shall believe you were never in earnest in your friendship for me. I solemnly swear, Bastel, that I make way for you. I resign utterly and for ever, every wish and every hope. I see it all clearly. You could not recover it if she were to prefer me. I--why I should make up my mind! You know one does not die of it even if all one's dream-blossoms do not come to fruit. Give me your hand, Bastel, and not another word about it."