“Maybe you think it was some refined modern devil, a hallucination, or a product of the poetic fancy,” Amadeus continued in his breathless and strangely hostile way. “Oh, no, it was a regular, old-fashioned devil with a goat’s beard and great claws. And he spoke to me: ‘Take of their superfluity; clothe your sensitiveness in armour; let them not intimidate you, nor the breath of their insolently beautiful world drive you into the cloudy closets of your torment.’ And with his cunning fingers he guided the little, jumping ball for me. The light of the lamps seemed to cry, the rouge fell from the cheeks of the women, the spittle of poisonous greed ran down the beards of the men. I won, Christian Wahnschaffe, I won! Ten thousand, twelve thousand--I hardly remember how much. The thousand franc notes looked like tatters of a faded flag. There were gleaming halls, stairs, gardens, white tables, champagne coolers, platters of oysters; and I breathed deep and lived and was like a lord. Strange men congratulated me, honoured me with their company, ate with me--experienced people, spick and span and respectable. In the Hotel de la Plage my goat-footed devil finally became transformed into a worthy symbol. He became a spider that had a huge egg between its feet and sucked insatiably.” “I believe you ought to go to bed and have a long sleep,” said Christian drily. “How much did you lose in the end?” “I have lost sleep,” Amadeus admitted. “How much I lost? About fourteen thousand. Prince Wiguniewski advanced the money; he thought you’d return it. He’s a very distinguished person, I must say. Not a muscle in his face moves when he’s courteous; nothing betrays the fact that he scents the proletarian in me.” “I’ll straighten out the affair with him,” said Christian. “It is not enough, Wahnschaffe,” Amadeus answered, and his voice shook, “it is not enough!” “Why isn’t it enough?” “Because I must go on gambling and win the money back. I can’t remain your debtor.” “You will only increase your indebtedness, Amadeus. But I won’t prevent you, if you’ll make up your mind to name a limit.” Amadeus laughed hoarsely. “I knew you’d be magnanimous, Christian Wahnschaffe. Plunge the thorn deeper into my wound. Go on!” “I don’t understand you, Amadeus,” Christian said calmly. “Ask as much money of me as you please. To be sure, I’d prefer to have you ask it for another purpose.” “How magnanimous again, how magnanimous!” Amadeus jeered. “But suppose that naming a limit is just what I won’t do? Suppose I want to strip off my beggar’s shame and become frankly a robber? Would you cast me off in that case?” “I don’t know what I should do,” Christian answered. “Perhaps I should try to convince you that you are not acting justly.”