The foreigner gazed at the bare limbs with the look of one who is surprised, and not gratified.

Satan said: "Take good care of the tree, for its health and yours are bound together.

It will never bear again, but if you tend it well it will live long.

Water its roots once in each hour every night--and do it yourself; it must not be done by proxy, and to do it in daylight will not answer.
If you fail only once in any night, the tree will die, and you likewise.
Do not go home to your own country any more--you would not reach there; make no business or pleasure engagements which require you to go outside your gate at night--you cannot afford the risk; do not rent or sell this place--it would be injudicious." The foreigner was proud and wouldn't beg, but I thought he looked as if he would like to.

While he stood gazing at Satan we vanished away and landed in Ceylon.
I was sorry for that man; sorry Satan hadn't been his customary self and killed him or made him a lunatic.