Veitel knew now that there was no magic in this, that the receipt consisted in being more cunning than the rest of the world, and that this cunning was not without its serious consequences to its possessor; nay, it seemed to him as though to acquire it were to make a compact with Satan himself.

His hand trembled, his pale face glowed, but his desire for more certain knowledge on the subject prevailed; and he told the stranger that, having heard that there was an art of always buying and selling to the best advantage, and so of making a fortune, he wished to ask whether it was that art that he (the stranger) could impart if he chose.
The old man pushed his plate away, and looked at him with amazement.
"Either," said he, "you are a great dolt, or the best actor I have ever seen." "No; I am only a dolt, but I wish to become clever," was the reply.
"A singular fellow," said the other, adjusting his spectacles so as to see him better.

After a long examination, he went on: "What you, my lad, call an art, is only a knowledge of law, and the wisdom to turn it to one's own profit.

He who is up to this can not fail to be a great man, for he will never be hanged." At which he laughed in a way that made a painful impression even upon Itzig.
"This art," he went on, "is not easily acquired, my boy.

It takes much practice, a good head, prompt decision, and, above all, what the knowing call 'character.'" At which he laughed again.
Veitel felt that a crisis in his life had come.