thee the Lord of Souls, and thou shalt be the 
master of living matter, more so even than the 
sculptor can be of his clay, and thou shalt 
know the pleasure, ceaselessly re-born, of 
leaving thyself to forget thyself in another, and 
to draw other souls, until thou dost confound 
them with thine own.” 
And I answered him, “Thank you for noth-
ing. What should I do with this parcel of be-
ings, who doubtless are worth no more than 
my poor self? Though I have sometimes shame 
in remembering, I wish to forget nothing. And 
even if I did not know you, old monster, your 
mysterious cutlery, you ambiguous phials, the 
chains with which your feet are cumbered are 
symbols which explain clearly enough the in-
conveniences of your friendship. Keep your 
presents to yourself!” 
The second Satan had not that air at the 
same time tragic and smiling, nor those in-
sinuating manners, not that delicate and 
scented beauty. It was a hulk of a man, with 
coarse, eyeless face, whose heavy paunch 
hung over his thighs, and all whose skin was 
gilded and as if tattooed with the images of a 
crowd of little moving figures to represent the 
innumerable forms of universal wretchedness. 
There were little lank men who had hung 
themselves from a nail; there were little mis-