‘“What are you then?” asked the baron.
‘“A genius,” replied the figure.
‘“You don’t look much like one,” returned the baron scornfully.
‘“I am the Genius of Despair and Suicide,” said the apparition. “Now you know me.”
‘With these words the apparition turned towards the baron, as if composing himself for a talk—and, what was very remarkable, was, that he threw his cloak aside, and displaying a stake, which was run through the centre of his body, pulled it out with a jerk, and laid it on the table, as composedly as if it had been a walking-stick.
‘“Now,” said the figure, glancing at the hunting-knife, “are you ready for me?”
‘“Not quite,” rejoined the baron; “I must finish this pipe first.”
‘“Look sharp then,” said the figure.
‘“You seem in a hurry,” said the baron.
‘“Why, yes, I am,” answered the figure; “they’re doing a pretty brisk business in my way, over in England and France just now, and my time is a good deal taken up.”