"But who are you?" cried the young man, wildly.
"To others, Prince Sernine. . . . To you . . . what does it matter? I am more than a prince, more than a king, more than an emperor. . . ."
"Who are you? . . . Who are you?" stammered Baupré.
"The Master . . . he who will and who can . . . he who acts. . . . There are no bounds to my will, there is none to my power. I am richer than the richest man alive, for his fortune is mine. . . . I am more powerful than the mightiest, for their might is at my service!"
He took the other's head in his hands again and, looking deep into his eyes:
"Be rich, too . . . be mighty. . . . I offer you happiness . . . and the joy of living . . . and peace for your poet's brain . . . and fame and glory also. . . . Do you accept?"
"Yes . . . yes . . ." whispered Gérard, dazzled and overmastered. "What am I to do?"
"Nothing."
"But . . ."
"Nothing, I say. The whole scaffolding of my plans rests on you, but you do not count. You have no active part to play. You are, for the moment, but a silent actor, or not even that, but just a pawn which I move along the board."