In the course of the conversation which followed, Faust said, “Gutenberg gaineth little in inventing. According to my thinking, he cannot be named the same day with yourself, Peter. You devised the ink, the forms for casting type, and the mixture of metals; and these are nearly all that has been invented. I regret to say it, but it would be a good thing for the firm if Gutenberg would even retire, so great is his extravagance. Why, he expended 4,000 florins before the Bible was half done! How he can ever pay me for the sums I let him have, I do not comprehend.” “Economy is certainly useful,” observed Peter in a general way. “A just and sensible remark,” replied Faust. “Your printer’s ink shows that you mean what you say; it is admirable, it is so cheap.” “I am glad you think so, master,” replied Peter, glancing with a proud flush at Christiane. “I often say to my wife and daughter,” continued Faust, “that if justice were done, you would be the acknowledged inventor, since you are continually making improvements, while he invents nothing, so to speak. Moreover, he is extravagant, and the business will be ridden to death with debt.” Peter was more than gratified that his efforts were appreciated by the Doctor; but he revered Gutenberg, and was shocked at the proposal to eject him from the business, and he ventured to say,-- “I owe much to Master Gutenberg.” “True,” replied Faust; “but if you were not dependent, you would acquire more in one week by your unfailing genius than he could impart in a year. The faculty to contrive and discover is in you; and if we were once rid of him, a great revenue would accrue. In due time you would be rich and renowned.” The fire burned briskly, throwing out a genial warmth; the watch-dog basked on his mat, opening and shutting his eyes in calm content; Madam Faust’s delicate face became pink in the ruddy glow; Christiane’s cheeks were abloom; the kettle sang from its long hook on the crane; a servant glided softly around as she laid the table. Peter fell into a dreamy abstraction. “If I could even do it honorably,” he murmured half unconsciously. “Honorably! certainly thou canst,” emphatically returned Faust. “Dost thou think I would counsel thee to do that which would be otherwise? Business is business, and one must look out first for one’s self. Thou mayest have qualms of diffidence in severing the old tie, having served so faithfully under him; but we will be answerable for the change: we will see that he retires from the firm, and thou shalt not be blamed. Agreeing to this, I will insure thee the use of my money to the extent of my means.” “Wife, I hope you have something palatable for Master Schoeffer,” said Faust, as all were seated by the table, and he helped his guest. Then, returning to the subject of their conversation,--