"Ah, what would you have me do with that treasure? What have I done with it so far? Nothing!"
"Give it to me."
"What can you do with it?"
"Everything. If you are not an artist, I am; and an enthusiastic artist, inexhaustible, indomitable, exuberant. If you have not the Promethean fire, I have! Where you failed, I shall succeed. Give me your life."
"Words, promises!" cried the young man, whose features began to glow with animation. "Empty dreams! I know my own worthlessness! I know my cowardice, my despondency, my efforts that come to nothing, all my wretchedness. To begin life anew, I should need a will which I do not possess. . . ."
"I possess mine."
"Friends. . . ."
"You shall have them."
"Means. . . ."
"I am providing you with means . . . and such means! You will only have to dip, as one would dip into a magic coffer."