“Why, Jan, you are getting enthusiastic—a miracle, that, in itself. I thought you had made up your mind that you would never do anything that would get known.”
“Well, I have a feeling, since you mentioned this case, that I shall be known before I die, and known by this means too. Can you get me what I want?”
“I dare say I can. But shall I tell the old sinner Simon that I want it for you, or say it is for a leech?”
“Why lie about it?” said the young man fiercely.
“Prudence, you know,” said the other, perfectly unabashed.
“No; tell him the bare truth, but swear him to secrecy. If he tells it, he shall forfeit his share.”
“He could get twice as much for denouncing you.”
“Let him! Where is his interest to denounce me? He is not a fiend, and he knows it is hard to live.”
“He did, but may be he has forgotten it in his present position. All the grandees know him now.”
“But you forget, Peter, that his own business is more dangerous than my undertaking could be, even taking it for granted I should be suspected of witchcraft, and he would scarcely like to draw attention on his own delicate doings.”