Behoric, the real demon, for whom my blood-comrade was called, now took a black book from his knapsack, and bade his namesake step forward to be stigmatized. This was accomplished as follows: Behoric plucked a quill from Belphegor's wings, and with the nib made tiny punctures in my comrade's arm, thus forming letters. After making a puncture in the flesh he would make a dot with the bloody quill-point on a page in the black book. When his task was finished, the name "Behoric" gleamed in red letters on my comrade's arm; and in letters of flame on the page in the black book.
The demon then presented to his namesake a thaler, as christening gift; after which, he turned to me, and said I should also receive a thaler if I would allow him to register my name among those of the chosen ones of hell.
Not for a dozen thalers would I have consented; but, for one kiss from my fascinating Lilith, I would have done anything asked of me.
I extended my arm for the stigma; but my blood-comrade stepped up to me and said:
"Comrade, do you see this thaler which I got in exchange for my soul? I want you to give me your bride for it."
As I have told you, a blood-comrade dare not refuse the request made by his fellow. I pocketed the thaler, placed Lilith's beautiful hand in Behoric's palm, and saw them move away to join the dancers.
Behoric and Belphegor now seized my collar, and importuned me to have my name recorded in the black book; but, with the loss of my bride, all desire to join the demon ranks vanished.
In vain I made all sorts of excuses; they would not release me. At last, I cried with simulated anger: "To the devil with you! Not a single member of my family ever was known to sign a contract when sober! I will eat and drink, then I'll talk business with you!"
Hardly had the last word crossed my lips, when before me stood a table loaded with delicious viands, and rare wines. The wedding guests seated themselves around the table, and proceeded to enjoy the repast, but to my extreme disappointment both wines and food were without taste. There was no substance to the former, no savor to the latter.
I began to quarrel with the demons: