"Who are you, and what is your need of me?"
"I am Magloire, a necromancer of France, and it is you that have need of me."
"You are over bold to say so."
"I say what I know. Dare you deny that you entertain the intention of making an incantation here this very night, and that you lack only the means to do so? A scheme of geomancy acquainted me with your design, and being entangled in your fate, for reasons that you must not know (for you will know them if anything too soon) I sped from afar upon wings of wind to conduct your conjuration for you."
"You have a price for this?"
"I see you are a man of the world, and are aware that nothing is usually given for nothing. I ask you merely to sign this bond."
"I understand your interest in me better than you seem to think, and on no account will I barter away my immortal soul."
"Your immortal soul, do you say? By the Nine Legions of Hell, does the man think that the cross was stretched on Calvary for any such scum as he? Your immortal soul, of which you hug yourself the possessor, was lost irredeemably from your cradle up. The signature to the bond is a matter of form."
"You do not think so since you ask me to sign it. But ask of me anything else, and it shall be given to you."
"By the tie of which I spoke, that is stronger than blood as blood is thicker than water (so they say), I will help you, though you vouchsafe me a mere keepsake. Make over to me that amulet that you wear around your neck, and the bargain is firm and true. The dawn shall caress a tenement based on the shifting foundation of these waters, such as even shall satisfy the caprices of Vergilia."