"A cigarette?" asked the prince. "Will you have one? Ah, I see that you are becoming reconciled to life! So much the better: we shall understand each other; and that quickly."

He lit the young man's cigarette and his own and, at once, in a few words uttered in a hard voice, explained himself:

"You, the late Gerard Baupre, were weary of life, ill, penniless, hopeless... . Would you like to be well, rich, and powerful?"

"I don't follow you."

"It is quite simple. Accident has placed you on my path. You are young, good-looking, a poet; you are intelligent and--your act of despair shows it--you have a fine sense of conduct. These are qualities which are rarely found united in one person. I value them ... and I take them for my account."

"They are not for sale."

"Idiot! Who talks of buying or selling? Keep your conscience. It is too precious a jewel for me to relieve you of it."

"Then what do you ask of me?"

"Your life!" And, pointing to the bruises on the young man's throat, "Your life, which you have not known how to employ! Your life, which you have bungled, wasted, destroyed and which, I propose to build up again, in accordance with an ideal of beauty, greatness and dignity that would make you giddy, my lad, if you saw the abyss into which my secret thought plunges... ." He had taken Gerard's head between his hands and he continued, eagerly: "You are free! No shackles! You have no longer the weight of your name to bear! You have got rid of that number with which society had stamped you as though branding you on the shoulder.

You are free! In this world of slaves where each man bears his label you can either come and go unknown, invisible, as if you owned Gyges' ring ... or else you can choose your own label, the one you like best! Do you understand the magnificent treasure which you represent to an artist ... to yourself, if you like? A virgin life, a brand-new life! Your life is the wax which you have the right to fashion as you please, according to the whims of your imagination and the counsels of your reason."

The young man made a gesture expressive of weariness:

"Ah, what would you have me do with that treasure? What have I done with it so far? Nothing!"

"Give it to me."

"What can you do with it?"

"Everything. If you are not an artist, I am; and an enthusiastic artist, inexhaustible, indomitable, exuberant. If you have not the Promethean fire, I have! Where you failed, I shall succeed. Give me your life."

"Words, promises!" cried the young man, whose features began to glow with animation. "Empty dreams! I know my own worthlessness! I know my cowardice, my despondency, my efforts that come to nothing, all my wretchedness. To begin life anew, I should need a will which I do not possess... ."

"I possess mine."

"Friends... ."

"You shall have them."

"Means... ."

"I am providing you with means ... and such means! You will only have to dip, as one would dip into a magic coffer."

"But who are you?" cried the young man, wildly.

"To others, Prince Sernine... . To you ... what does it matter? I am more than a prince, more than a king, more than an emperor... ."

"Who are you? ... Who are you?" stammered Baupre.

"The Master ... he who will and who can ... he who acts... . There are no bounds to my will, there is none to my power. I am richer than the richest man alive, for his fortune is mine... . I am more powerful than the mightiest, for their might is at my service!"

He took the other's head in his hands again and, looking deep into his eyes:

"Be rich, too ... be mighty... . I offer you happiness ... and the joy of living ... and peace for your poet's brain ... and fame and glory also... . Do you accept?"

"Yes ... yes ..." whispered Gerard, dazzled and overmastered. "What am I to do?"

"Nothing."

"But ..."

"Nothing, I say. The whole scaffolding of my plans rests on you, but you do not count. You have no active part to play. You are, for the moment, but a silent actor, or not even that, but just a pawn which I move along the board."

"What shall I do?"

"Nothing. Write poetry. You shall live as you please. You shall have money. You shall enjoy life. I will not even bother my head about you. I repeat, you play no part in my venture."

"And who shall I be?"

Sernine stretched out his arm and pointed to the next room:

"You shall take that man's place. _You are that man!_"

Gerard shuddered with revolt and disgust:

"Oh, no, he is dead! ... And then ... it is a crime! ... No, I want a new life, made for me, thought out for me ... an unknown name.

"That man, I tell you!" cried Sernine, irresistible in his energy and authority. "You shall be that man and none other! That man, because his destiny is magnificent, because his name is illustrious, and because he hands down to you a thrice-venerable heritage of ancestral dignity and pride."

"It is a crime!" moaned Baupre, faltering.

"You shall be that man!" spoke Sernine, with unparalleled vehemence.

"You shall be that man! If not, you become Baupre again; and over Baupre I own rights of life and death. Choose."

He drew his revolver, cocked it and took aim at the young man:

"Choose," he repeated.

The expression of his face was implacable. Gerard was frightened and sank down on his bed sobbing:

"I wish to live!"

"You wish it firmly, irrevocably?"

"Yes, a thousand times yes! After the terrible thing which I attempted, death appals me... . Anything ... anything rather than death! ...

Anything! ... Pain ... hunger ... illness ... every torture, every shame ... crime itself, if need be ... but not death!"

He shivered with fever and agony, as though the great enemy were still prowling round him and as though he felt himself powerless to escape from its clutches. The prince redoubled his efforts and, in a fervent voice, holding him under him like a prey:

"I will ask nothing impossible of you, nothing wrong... . If there is anything, I am responsible... . No, no crime ... a little pain at most... . A little of your blood must flow. But what is that, compared with the dread of dying?"