I was already awake,
but still kept my eyes closed in order to retain the fading apparition
longer before my soul.
I finally opened my eyes; the sun stood still high in the heavens, but
in the east; I had slept through the night. I took it for a sign that
I should not return to the inn. I gave up readily as lost what I yet
possessed there, and determined to strike on foot into a branch road,
which led along the wood-grown feet of the mountains, leaving it to
fate to fulfil what it had yet in store for me. I looked not behind
me, and thought not even of applying to Bendel, whom I left rich
behind me, and which I could readily have done. I considered the
new character which I should support in the world. My dress was very
modest. I had on an old black polonaise, which I had already worn in
Berlin, and which, I know not how, had first come again into my hands
for this journey. I had also a traveling cap on my head, a pair of old
boots on my feet. I arose, and cut me on the spot a knotty stick as a
memorial, and pursued my wandering.
I met in the wood an old peasant who, friendly, greeted me, and with
whom I entered into conversation. I inquired, like an inquisitive
traveler, first the way, then about the country and its inhabitants,
the productions of the mountains, and many such things. He answered my
questions sensibly and loquaciously. We came to the bed of a mountain
torrent, which had spread its devastations over a wide tract of the
forest.
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