“I know, and I am of two minds about it. There is something in what you persuade me into that I like not. But upon such matters you are indeed the teacher and I the student. This I do know, and that is that when I am in a trance such as you sent me into a short time ago I can see things and hear things and even know things that I am not familiar with in my everyday mind. But such experiments, though they enthrall the soul, are perhaps dangerous to men. They are tried in Nuremberg, I believe, and in other lonely places in the Black Forest. But here in Krakow we have ever been wary of them.” The alchemist was looking into the fire. Tring, sitting beside him, cast at him at these words such a malicious look and leer that Joseph shuddered. There flashed into Joseph’s mind the word “demon”—a veritable demon from the darkness Tring seemed, striving to exert some influence over his victim. The look passed. “Pan Kreutz,” began Tring again, “I know from my teachers in the old town of Nuremberg that man has in reality two brains. One of these brains is wise and powerful and dominant, and yet one knows nothing of it except when one is asleep in such a trance as I put you in but a short while ago. The other is the brain of daily life; by it we know when to eat, work, and rest. It is the lesser brain.” “Something of this you have proven to me,” said the alchemist. “Then use your higher brain,” commanded Tring. “To what end?” asked Kreutz. “To the end that all men would reach. Gold!” He said the word with an intensity that sent a cold thrill through Joseph. “Gold matters not so much to me,” answered the alchemist. “It does—it does—it does,” insisted Tring. “You do not know what you could do with it. With this secret, you and I could become the very kings of the earth. We could live in the finest palace in the world—we could have diamonds and rubies and emeralds—we could travel about the lands of Europe like the mightiest of merchant princes—armies would be at our disposal, and we could make every human being perform our will.” For a moment he forgot the alchemist as he reveled in this dream made out of fancy and desire, but as a glance at Kreutz’s face found no response there, he went on more cunningly: “Think what you could do as an alchemist I Is this attic a fitting place for your experiments? Are these poor tools sufficient for the concoctions that you would devise, and for the laws which you would prove? You could become the greatest alchemist in Poland—in the world! You could work in a room that would contain this poor attic a dozen times. In it would be every instrument that has ever been invented for the study of alchemy. No precious substance that comes out of the East, no priceless gem nor precious stone would be beyond the means that you would possess. Does this not tempt you?”