"On what dost thou muse?" at length demanded Selim.
"I was thinking—I was thinking that if the duration of man's life were longer, it would be better both for those who study science, and for those who are the fortunate possessors of great wealth; it would be equally good for the poor, since they might one day hope to enjoy the fruit of their toils, if they took pains to become rich."
"What profits it to meditate so deeply upon a thing which all the reflections of man cannot change?"
"I do not regard the prolongation of human existence as impossible. Hitherto physicians have most frequently been instrumental in abridging it. My aim is to repair the wrongs they have involuntarily committed. I would have succeeding ages regard my memory with gratitude."
"What sayest thou?" cried Selim. "Thou wouldst change the order of things, the whole course of nature?"
"Nothing can convince me that we follow the course of nature by dying at sixty or eighty years of age, when men formerly lived hundreds of years. On the contrary, I am certain that we were created to live longer, much longer, and I consecrate all my days, my nights, and my studies to the pursuit of a discovery which is destined to prolong the existence of mankind, and renew the state of things as they were when men married at a hundred years of age, and lived to see their sons' sons grow up and marry in their turn. Why, have I often asked myself, should our lives be shorter than those of an oak of the forests, of a serpent, or even of a vulture?"
"If we lived as long as an oak," replied Selim, "the cedars and the palm trees would still live longer than we."
"Thou dost but jest, but thy jesting is ill-timed; nothing is more serious than the thought which occupies me. Thou thyself, confess now, wouldst thou not be enchanted to see suns succeed suns, and to contemplate for ages to come the wonders of the heavens and the fecundity of the earth?"
Selim reflected a little, and replied, "Man does not love death, it is true; nevertheless life is not so desirable as thou wouldst fain have us believe."
"Then thou desirest not to prolong thy days upon the earth? For myself, I confess that I desire it greatly; so that besides my days and my nights, I consecrate all that I glean from learned researches to the accomplishment of this great end. I am already upon the track. But unfortunately gold is wanting—this gold which thou despisest, or knowest not how to employ—this gold would in my hands contribute to the happiness of future generations. With gold—with gold you can purchase books of precious value, measure the stars, dig the bowels of the earth, rend metals from her bosom, decompose substances, in short, penetrate into every mystery. Yes, gold which heretofore has been unable to bestow a day, nay an hour upon its possessor, gold in my hands would accomplish a wondrous discovery. I should certainly not keep the secret for myself alone, and I should share it first of all with the man whose wealth had helped me to the means of obtaining it."