_Chrys_. She was _the_ Electra, the daughter of Agamemnon, to whom the same thing was known and unknown at the same time. She knew that Orestes was her brother: yet when he stood before her she did not know (until he revealed himself) that her brother was Orestes. As to the Man in the Hood, he will surprise you considerably. Answer me now: do you know your own father? _Seventh D_. Yes. _Chrys_. Well now, if I present to you a man in a hood, shall you know him? eh? _Seventh D_. Of course not. _Chrys_. Well, but the Man in the Hood is your father. You don't know the Man in the Hood. Therefore you don't know your own father. _Seventh D_. Why, no. But if I take his hood off, I shall get at the facts. Now tell me, what is the end of your philosophy? What happens when you reach the goal of virtue? _Chrys_. In regard to things external, health, wealth, and the like, I am then all that Nature intended me to be. But there is much previous toil to be undergone. You will first sharpen your eyes on minute manuscripts, amass commentaries, and get your bellyful of outlandish terms. Last but not least, it is forbidden to be wise without repeated doses of hellebore. _Seventh D_. All this is exalted and magnanimous to a degree. But what am I to think when I find that you are also the creed of cent-per-cent, the creed of the usurer? Has _he_ swallowed his hellebore? is _he_ made perfect in virtue? _Chrys_. Assuredly. On none but the wise man does usury sit well. Consider. His is the art of putting two and two together, and usury is the art of putting interest together. The two are evidently connected, and one as much as the other is the prerogative of the true believer; who, not content, like common men, with simple interest, will also take interest _upon_ interest. For interest, as you are probably aware, is of two kinds. There is simple interest, and there is its offspring, compound interest. Hear Syllogism on the subject. 'If I take simple interest, I shall also take compound. But I _shall_ take simple interest: therefore I shall take compound.' _Seventh D_. And the same applies to the fees you take from your youthful pupils? None but the true believer sells virtue for a fee? _Chrys_. Quite right. I take the fee in my pupil's interest, not because I want it. The world is made up of diffusion and accumulation. I accordingly practise my pupil in the former, and myself in the latter. _Seventh D_. But it ought to be the other way. The pupil ought to accumulate, and you, 'sole millionaire,' ought to diffuse. _Chrys_. Ha! you jest with me? Beware of the shaft of insoluble syllogism. _Seventh D_. What harm can that do? _Chrys_. It cripples; it ties the tongue, and turns the brain. Nay, I have but to will it, and you are stone this instant. _Seventh D_. Stone! You are no Perseus, friend? _Chrys_. See here. A stone is a body? _Seventh D_. Yes. _Chrys_. Well, and an animal is a body? _Seventh D_. Yes. _Chrys_. And you are an animal?