One day we were sitting by the entrance of a cavern, much visited by
strangers, who ascended the mountain: the rushing noise of a
subterranean torrent resounded from the fathomless abyss, the depths
of which exceeded all calculation. He was, according to his
favourite custom, employing all the powers of his lavish fancy, and
all the charm of the most brilliant colouring, to depict to me what
I might effect in the world by virtue of my purse, when once I had
recovered my shadow. With my elbows resting on my knees, I kept my
face concealed in my hands, and listened to the false fiend, my
heart torn between the temptation and my determined opposition to
it. Such indecision I could no longer endure, and resolved on one
decisive effort.

"You seem to forget," said I, "that I tolerate your presence only on
certain conditions, and that I am to retain perfect freedom of
action."

"You have but to command, I depart," was all his reply.

The threat was familiar to me; I was silent. He then began to fold
up my shadow. I turned pale, but allowed him to continue. A long
silence ensued, which he was the first to break.

"You cannot endure me, Mr Schlemihl--you hate me--I am aware of it--
but why?--is it, perhaps, because you attacked me on the open plain,
in order to rob me of my invisible bird's nest? or is it because you
thievishly endeavoured to seduce away the shadow with which I had
entrusted you--my own property--confiding implicitly in your honour!
I, for my part, have no dislike to you. It is perfectly natural