“What riches! what a mine! Nine hundred pounds at, say, $3,500,000 a
pound, would be--would be----” Then a treacherous thought burst into
my mind!
He laughed a good hearty laugh, and said:
“I perceive your thought; and what a handsomely original idea it
is!--to kidnap Satan, and stock him, and incorporate him, and water
the stock up to ten billions--just three times its actual value--and
blanket the world with it!” My blush had turned the moonlight to a
crimson mist, such as veils and spectralizes the domes and towers of
Florence at sunset and makes the spectator drunk with joy to see,
and he pitied me, and dropped his tone of irony, and assumed a grave
and reflective one which had a pleasanter sound for me, and under
its kindly influence my pains were presently healed, and I thanked
him for his courtesy. Then he said:
“One good turn deserves another, and I will pay you a compliment. Do
you know I have been trading with your poor pathetic race for ages,
and you are the first person who has ever been intelligent enough to
divine the large commercial value of my make-up.”