"Exactly."
"To blood."
"Aye, and more than blood."
"What! would you touch the soul?"
"Yes, and punish it forever."
"Would you have it transformed to millions of animalculæ, each to teem with life, and sensation the most acute, and continued in pain throughout eternity?"
"Aye, and longer, and for such sweet revenge I'd punish my own soul with his."
"Meet me to-morrow night, we'll fix it; success is certain."
Farragio hesitated, he was afraid of his accomplice; more than once he had suspected the smell of brimstone, and would have given worlds to be relieved from such acquaintanceship.
"Meet me to-morrow night," repeated the impatient little gentleman in a voice of thunder.