“This book will bring handsome returns, Peter,” said the former, “if we manage wisely. My brother is of opinion that I can sell fifty copies in Paris alone!” “A happy suggestion!” was the reply. “And I must go at once,” said Faust; and, with characteristic energy, he commenced making preparations for the journey. As a sufficient number of Bibles were ready for the present demand, Schoeffer and the journeymen were to employ themselves in issuing “Litterariæ Indulgentiæ,” a one page work much prized by the monks. Schoeffer had now been married to Faust’s daughter for some months, and was an honored member of the firm. But although his worldly prospects were fair, yet he was less happy than he had imagined, and the memory of his old master’s kindness often brought penitent tears to his eyes. He longed to see him, as formerly, the ruling spirit in the printing rooms, but had not moral courage and decision of purpose enough to say this in the presence of Faust. Besides, he still wished to appropriate riches and fame to himself. So he persisted in the wrong, salving his conscience with the promise that he would at some time do right by Gutenberg. [Illustration] [Illustration] XVII. The Story of Faust’s Visit to Paris.--Was it Witchcraft?--Popular Excitement.--Scene in a Court Room.--Issue of the Psalter. One balmy morning in the spring of 1456, Faust, with a stock of beautifully bound Bibles, started for Paris, some four hundred miles distant. Sailing down the Rhine to Strasbourg, he then travelled by the public road over mountains and across the country nearly west to the French metropolis, then a long and toilsome journey. On his arrival, he engaged a shop on the Rue St. George, where he could safely store his treasures. Hastening to call upon the King, he made known his errand and offered him a copy of the Bible for seven hundred and fifty crowns! As the King examined it, he was delighted with the regular and beautiful writing. “It is true,” said he, “that the scribes ask only five and six hundred crowns for a copy of their Bible, but I have never seen anything equal to this! I will gladly pay thee thy price, and consider it a rare bargain.” Faust next sought out the Archbishop. “My lord,” he said, taking the large package from the porter who accompanied him, and unrolling it from its folds of vellum, “I have brought thee a Bible executed with great care and finish. Permit me to call thy attention to it.” “It is very finely executed,” observed the Archbishop as he turned its leaves. “What is your price?” “Only three hundred crowns!” answered Faust. “I will willingly pay that,” replied the Archbishop. “It is seldom that we can obtain a work made in this style, and so cheap. I am familiar with the copyists of monasteries, but have never met the monk that carried so even a hand!”