before his judge. I entered by the shady arbour, which had received
the name of Count Peter's arbour, where we had appointed to meet.
The mother advanced with a cheerful air; Minna sat fair and
beautiful as the early snow of autumn reposing on the departing
flowers, soon to be dissolved and lost in the cold stream.

The ranger, with a written paper in his hand, was walking up and
down in an agitated manner, and struggling to suppress his feelings-
-his usually unmoved countenance being one moment flushed, and the
next perfectly pale. He came forward as I entered, and, in a
faltering voice, requested a private conversation with me. The path
by which he requested me to follow him led to an open spot in the
garden, where the sun was shining. I sat down. A long silence
ensued, which even the good woman herself did not venture to break.
The ranger, in an agitated manner, paced up and down with unequal
steps. At last he stood still; and glancing over the paper he held
in his hand, he said, addressing me with a penetrating look,

"Count Peter, do you know one Peter Schlemihl?" I was silent.

"A man," he continued, "of excellent character and extraordinary
endowments."

He paused for an answer.--"And supposing I myself were that very
man?"

"You!" he exclaimed, passionately; "he has lost his shadow!"

"Oh, my suspicion is true!" cried Minna; "I have long known it--he
has no shadow!" And she threw herself into her mother's arms, who,