“I am most happy to meet thee!” said Faust, cordially. “I should know you from your resemblance to your father. I am well-acquainted with your cousins and all your kindred; I esteem them highly, and heartily welcome back a former townsman,--a member of one of our patrician families.” Friele pleasantly bowed and passed on, as Faust continued:-- “Your brother has given me some account of your efforts in the arts; and I am desirous of learning more respecting them.” The heart of Gutenberg was touched by the genuine interest in himself and his endeavors, manifested by the rich goldsmith; and the two new friends were soon walking the streets absorbed in conversation. “I have devised a most important invention,” said Gutenberg, “and it remains hidden like a buried seed till the rain and sunshine bring it up to light and fruitage. Would that I had my hoarded patrimony, that I might render my discovery available! But such is the necessity of keeping the details of my processes, that I have not ventured to apply for money to prosecute the art.” “If I had a full understanding of what it is, I might perhaps assist thee,” returned the banker. “It concerns book-making,” explained Gutenberg, for Faust was fast winning his confidence. “You are aware that the great work of the monasteries in Germany, as elsewhere, is copying books, and that they receive vast sums for their works. My new process doth entirely supercede their toil, and fashioneth books without the labor of copying.” “Impossible!” ejaculated Faust. “But I can demonstrate it!” “Good, if thou canst prove it beyond all question. But what money is needed to carry out thy wonderful discovery?” “Some two or three thousand florins,” answered Gutenberg. “If I were convinced,” returned the other, “that it would pay better than goldsmithing,--but I must see specimens of thy work, before committing myself to the enterprise.” “And I will with pleasure show them you, provided you will pledge yourself that, if convinced, you will invest in the undertaking. Meanwhile rest assured that it will yet pay richly. Why, consider what moneys the monks receive; and my books will be more in demand, since they are better executed.” “As to books,” remarked the goldsmith, “according to my thinking there are enough in the world already. They serve little purpose save to turn active men into mopers. Nevertheless, as people will have them, there can be no harm that we should make a profit by furnishing them. They may as well have books as jewelry and mirrors, which gratify their vanity.” “I think so,” replied the inventor, smiling; “and when you come to know my art, you cannot fail to admire it.” “Art!” exclaimed Faust jocosely, “hath it aught to do with the black art? I could not abide that. Much as I value money, I would not league myself with the Evil One.”