This was the wretch whom Faustus saw; and his heart rejoiced when he contemplated the paleness of his cheeks, and the farrows which anguish and despair had made in his brow. He was on the point of leaving this abode of monotonous horror, when the Devil whispered him to remain until the next day, and he would see a singular spectacle. The king had heard that a hermit lived in Calabria, who was honoured as a saint through all Sicily. This fool had, from his fourteenth to his fortieth year, dwelt upon a naked rock, where, exposed to the rains and tempests of heaven, he martyred his body by stripes and fasting, and refused his mind all cultivation. But, the rays of sanctity concealing his stupidity, he soon saw the prince and the peasant at his feet. Louis had requested the King of Sicily to send him this creature, because he hoped to be cured by him. The hermit was now on the road; and as he brought with him the holy oil of Rheims, to anoint the tyrant's body, the latter imagined that all his disorders would soon vanish, and he should become young again. The happy day arrived: the Calabrian boor approached the castle; the king received him at the gate, fell at his feet, and asked him for life and health. The Calabrian played his part in so ridiculous a manner, that Faustus could not avoid laughing aloud at the farce. Tristan and his myrmidons were advancing to seize him, and he would doubtlessly have paid for laughing with his life, had not the Devil rescued him from their claws, and flown away with him. When they arrived at Paris, Faustus said: "Is it by this contemptible, superstitious, tottering object, that the bold sons of France allow themselves to be enslaved? He is a mere skeleton in purple, who can scarcely cough out of his asthmatic throat the desire to live; yet they tremble before him, as if he were a giant, whose terrible arms could encircle the whole earth. When the lion, enfeebled by age, lies languishing in his den, the most insignificant beasts of the forests are not afraid of him, but approach and mock the fallen tyrant." _Devil_. It is this which chiefly distinguishes the king of men from the king of beasts. The latter is only formidable as long as he can use his own strength; but the former, who binds the strength of his slaves to his will, is as powerful when lying on the bed of sickness, as when, in the vigour of health, he is at the head of his armies. Are you not now convinced that men are only guided by folly, which dooms them to be slaves? Break their chains to-day, and they would forge themselves others to-morrow. Do what you can, they will always go on in the same eternal circle, and are condemned for ever to seize the shadow for the reality.