If I were superstitious, I should even beg for an interest in your prayers.

I am in the black fit; the evil spirit of King Saul, the hag of the merchant Abudah, the personal devil of the mediaeval monk, is with me--is in me,' tapping on his breast.

'The vices of my nature are now uppermost; innocent pleasures woo me in vain; I long for Paris, for my wallowing in the mire.

See,' he would continue, producing a handful of silver, 'I denude myself, I am not to be trusted with the price of a fare.

Take it, keep it for me, squander it on deleterious candy, throw it in the deepest of the river--I will homologate your action.