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. Heavy and melancholy, with a deathlike feeling within me, I prepared to redeem my promise, and, like a criminal before his judges, to show myself in the forester's garden. I ascended to the dark arbour which had been called by my name, where an appointment had been made to meet me. Mina's mother came forwards toward me, gay, and free from care. Mina was seated there, pale and lovely, as the earliest snow when it kisses the last autumnal flower, and soon dissolves into bitter drops. The forest-master, with a written sheet in his hand, wandered in violent agitation from side to side, seemingly overcome with internal feelings, which painted his usually unvarying countenance with constantly changing paleness and scarlet. He came towards me as I entered, and with broken accents requested to speak to me alone. The path through which he invited me to follow him led to an open sunny part of the garden. I seated myself down without uttering a word; a long silence followed, which even our good mother dared not interrupt. With irregular steps the forest-master paced the arbour backwards and forwards; he stood for a moment before me, looked into the paper which he held, and said with a most penetrating glance, "Count, and do you indeed know one Peter Schlemihl?" I was silent--"a man of reputable character, and of great accomplishments." He waited for my answer. "And what if I were he?"--"He!" added he vehemently, "who has in some way got rid of his shadow!"--"Oh, my forebodings! my forebodings!" exclaimed Mina, "alas! I knew long ago that he had no shadow!" and she flung herself into her mother's arms, who, alarmed, pressed her convulsively to her bosom, reproaching me with having concealed such a fatal secret from her:--but she, like Arethusa, was bathed in a fountain of tears, which flowed abundantly at the sound of my voice, and at my approach tempestuously burst forth.