“I see,” said Satan, “that you are a coward and wicked like all men. Since you have heard and seen enough at a distance, listen, and look at your feet....”
The wall closed with a loud crash of the stones as they came together, and Sylvestre Ker saw that he was surrounded by an enormous heap of gold-pieces, as high as his waist, which gently floated, singing the symphony of riches. All around him was gold, and through the gap in the roof the shower of gold fell and fell and fell.
“Am I the master of all this?” asked Sylvestre Ker.
“Yes,” replied Satan; “you have compelled me, who am gold, to come forth from my caverns; you are therefore the master of gold, provided you purchase it at the price of your soul. You cannot have both God and gold. You must choose one or the other.”
“I have chosen,” said Sylvestre Ker. “I keep my soul.”
“You have firmly decided?”
“Irrevocably.”
“Once, twice, ... reflect! You have just acknowledged that you still love the laughing Matheline.”
“And that I hate her; ... yes, ... it is so, ... but in eternity I wish to be with my dear mother Josserande.”
“Were there no mothers,” growled Satan, “I could play my game much better in the world!”