"Perhaps we can get it. The monks are wretchedly obstinate. I had a great mind to poison them all with prussic acid. I shall probably do it yet, if I ever get to that district again. Until then, we must be satisfied with a copy."
"I say, baron, could you not let me have a copy like yours? Of course I mean in the translation, and not in Bramaputrid, or what the nonsense is."
"Hm! But you must promise not to show it to anybody?"
"Rely upon it."
"Perhaps to one or the other of our own circle."
"Ah! May I do that?"
"Oh yes! But do not mention my name. Tell them it was a mere hypothesis of yours----"
"A what?"
"A mere idea, which had not yet been confirmed. When we get hold of the original, then comes the time for your triumph and the triumph of the good cause at once."