“I wished for position, and here I am, stoned and hunted down by the lowest peasants, whom formerly I despised. I asked for love, and the only woman who loved me and whom I loved became the wife of another, and she is at this moment cursing me as she lies dying, while I, notwithstanding all the power you have given me, can do nothing to help her!” “Leave off loving anybody but yourself, Thibault.” “Oh! yes, laugh at me, do!” “I am not laughing at you. But did you not cast envious eyes on other people’s property before you had set eyes on me?” “Yes, for a wretched buck, of which there are hundreds just as good browsing in the forest!” “You thought your wishes were going to stop at the buck, Thibault; but wishes lead on to one another, as the night to the day, and the day to night. When you wished for the buck, you also wished for the silver dish on which it would be served; the silver dish led you on to wish for the servant who carries it and for the carver who cuts up its contents. Ambition is like the vault of heaven; it appears to be bounded by the horizon, but it covers the whole earth. You disdained Agnelette’s innocence, and went after Madame Poulet’s mill; if you had gained the mill, you would immediately have wanted the house of the Bailiff Magloire; and his house would have had no further attraction for you when once you had seen the Castle of Mont-Gobert. “You are one in your envious disposition with the fallen Angel, your master and mine; only, as you were not clever enough to reap the benefit that might have accrued to you from your power of inflicting evil, it would perhaps have been more to your interest to continue to lead an honest life.” “Yes, indeed,” replied the shoe-maker, “I feel the truth of the proverb, ‘Evil to him who evil wishes’” But, he continued, “can I not become an honest man again?” The wolf gave a mocking chuckle. “My good fellow, the devil can drag a man to hell,” he said, “by a single hair. Have you ever counted how many of yours now belong to him?” “No.” “I cannot tell you that exactly either, but I know how many you have which are still your own. You have one left! You see it is long past the time for repentance.” “But if a man is lost when but one of his hairs belongs to the devil,” said Thibault, “why cannot God likewise save a man in virtue of a single hair?” “Well, try if that is so!” “And, besides, when I concluded that unhappy bargain with you, I did not understand that it was to be a compact of this kind.”