It was at this time that I concluded to sell my soul to Satan. Steel
was away down, so was St. Paul; it was the same with all the
desirable stocks, in fact, and so, if I did not turn out to be away
down myself, now was my time to raise a stake and make my fortune.
Without further consideration I sent word to the local agent, Mr.
Blank, with description and present condition of the property, and
an interview with Satan was promptly arranged, on a basis of 2½ per
cent, this commission payable only in case a trade should be
consummated.
I sat in the dark, waiting and thinking. How still it was! Then came
the deep voice of a far-off bell proclaiming midnight--Boom-m-m!
Boom-m-m! Boom-m-m!--and I rose to receive my guest, and braced
myself for the thunder crash and the brimstone stench which should
announce his arrival. But there was no crash, no stench. Through the
closed door, and noiseless, came the modern Satan, just as we see
him on the stage--tall, slender, graceful, in tights and trunks, a
short cape mantling his shoulders, a rapier at his side, a single
drooping feather in his jaunty cap, and on his intellectual face the
well-known and high-bred Mephistophelian smile.
But he was not a fire coal; he was not red, no! On the contrary. He
was a softly glowing, richly smoldering torch, column, statue of
pallid light, faintly tinted with a spiritual green, and out from
him a lunar splendor flowed such as one sees glinting from the
crinkled waves of tropic seas when the moon rides high in cloudless
skies.
He made his customary stage obeisance, resting his left hand upon
his sword hilt and removing his cap with his right and making that
handsome sweep with it which we know so well; then we sat down. Ah,
he was an incandescent glory, a nebular dream, and so much improved
by his change of color. He must have seen the admiration in my
illuminated face, but he took no notice of it, being long ago used
to it in faces of other Christians with whom he had had trade
relations.
... A half hour of hot toddy and weather chat, mixed with occasional
tentative feelers on my part and rejoinders of, “Well, I could
hardly pay _that_ for it, you know,” on his, had much modified my
shyness and put me so much at my ease that I was emboldened to feed
my curiosity a little. So I chanced the remark that he was
surprisingly different from the traditions, and I wished I knew what
it was he was made of. He was not offended, but answered with frank
simplicity:
“Radium!”
“That accounts for it!” I exclaimed. “It is the loveliest
effulgence I have ever seen. The hard and heartless glare of the
electric doesn’t compare with it. I suppose Your Majesty weighs
about--about----”
“I stand six feet one; fleshed and blooded I would weigh two hundred
and fifteen; but radium, like other metals, is heavy. I weigh nine
hundred-odd.”
I gazed hungrily upon him, saying to myself:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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