CHAPTER III
Of what avail are wings to him who is fast bound in iron fetters? He
is compelled only the more fearfully to despair. I lay, like Faffner
by his treasure, far from every consolation, starving in the midst
of my gold. But my heart was not in it; on the contrary, I cursed it,
because I saw myself through it cut off from all life. Brooding over
my gloomy secret alone, I trembled before the meanest of my servants,
whom at the same time I was forced to envy, for he had a shadow; he
might show himself in the sun. I wore away days and nights in solitary
sorrow in my chamber, and anguish gnawed at my heart.
There was another who pined away before my eyes; my faithful Bendel
never ceased to torture himself with silent reproaches, that he
had betrayed the trust reposed in him by his master, and had not
recognized him after whom he was dispatched, and with whom he must
believe that my sorrowful fate was intimately interwoven. I could not
lay the fault to his charge; I recognized in the event the mysterious
nature of the Unknown.
That I might leave nothing untried, I one time sent Bendel with a
valuable brilliant ring to the most celebrated painter of the city,
and begged that he would pay me a visit. He came. I ordered my people
to retire, closed the door, seated myself by the man, and, after I had
praised his art, I came with a heavy heart to the business, causing
him before that to promise the strictest secrecy.
Pages:
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445