• "It's not a bad idea though," said the baron, feeling the edge of the weapon; "a man killing himself because he has too much money."
• "Pooh!" said the apparition, petulantly, "no better than a man's killing himself because he has none or little."
• Whether the genius unintentionally committed himself in saying this, or whether he thought the baron's mind was so thoroughly made up
• that it didn't matter what he said, I have no means of knowing. I only know that the baron stopped his hand, all of a sudden,
• opened his eyes wide, and looked as if quite a new light had come upon him for the first time.
• "Why, certainly," said Von Koëldwethout, "nothing is too bad to be retrieved." "Except empty coffers," cried the genius.

• "Be as quick as you can, will you, for there's a young gentleman who is afflicted with too much money and leisure wanting me now, I find."
• "Going to kill himself because he has too much money!" exclaimed the baron, quite tickled: "Ha! ha! that's a good one."
• (This was the first time the baron had laughed for many a long day.) "I say," expostulated the figure, looking very much scared;
• "don't do that again." "Why not?" demanded the baron. "Because it gives me pain all over," replied the figure.
• "Sigh as much as you please; that does me good." The baron sighed mechanically, at the mention of the word; the figure,
• brightening up again, handed him the hunting-knife with the most winning politeness.

• "Why, yes, I am," answered the figure; "they're doing a pretty brisk business in my way, over in England and France just now,
• and my time is a good deal taken up." "Do you drink?" said the baron, touching the bottle with the bowl of his pipe.
• "Nine times out of ten, and then very hard," rejoined the figure, drily. "Never in moderation?" asked the baron.
• "Never," replied the figure, with a shudder, "that breeds cheerfulness." The baron took another look at his new friend,
• whom he thought an uncommonly queer customer, and at length inquired whether he took any active part in such little proceedings
• as that which he had in contemplation. "No," replied the figure evasively; "but I am always present."
• "Just to see fair, I suppose?" said the baron. "Just that," replied the figure playing with the stake, and examining the ferule.

• "A genius," replied the figure. "You don't look much like one," returned the baron scornfully. "I am the Genius of Despair and Suicide,"
• said the apparition. "Now you know me." With these words the apparition turned towards the baron, as if composing himself for a talk -
• and, what was very remarkable, was, that he threw his cloak aside, and displaying a stake, which was run through the centre of his body,
• pulled it out with a jerk, and laid it on the table, as composedly as if it had been a walking-stick.
• "Now," said the figure, glancing at the hunting-knife, "are you ready for me?"
• "Not quite," rejoined the baron; "I must finish this pipe first." "Look sharp then," said the figure. You seem in a hurry," said the baron.

• "Halloa!" replied the stranger, moving his eyes towards the baron, but not his face or himself. "What now?"
• "What now?" replied the baron, nothing daunted by his hollow voice and lustreless eyes, "I should ask that question. How did you get here?"
• "Through the door," replied the figure. "What are you?" says the baron. "A man," replied the figure. "I don't believe it," says the baron.
• "Disbelieve it then," says the figure. "I will," rejoined the baron. The figure looked at the bold Baron of Grogzwig for some time,
• and then said familiarly, "There's no coming over you, I see. I'm not a man!" "What are you then?" asked the baron.

• No, he was not; for, on the opposite side of the fire, there sat with folded arms a wrinkled hideous figure,
• with deeply sunk and bloodshot eyes, and an immensely long, cadaverous face, shadowed by jagged and matted locks of coarse black hair.
• He wore a kind of tunic of a dull bluish colour, which, the baron observed, on regarding it attentively,
• was clasped or ornamented down the front, with coffin handles. His legs too, were encased in coffin plates as though in armour;
• and over his left shoulder he wore a short dusky cloak, which seemed made of remnant of some pall. He took no notice of the baron,
• but was intently eyeing the fire. "Halloa!" said the baron, stamping his foot to attract attention.

• "I'll smoke a last pipe," said the baron, "and then I'll be off." So, putting the knife upon the table till he wanted it,
• and tossing off a goodly measure of wine, the Lord of Grogzwig threw himself back in his chair, stretched his legs out before the fire,
• and puffed away. He thought about a great many things - about his present troubles and past days of bachelorship,
• and about the Lincoln greens, long since disappeared up and down the country, no one knew whither:
• with the exception of two who had been unfortunately beheaded, and four who had killed themselves with drinking.
• His mind was running upon bears and boars, when, in the process of draining his glass to the bottom, he raised his eyes, and saw,
• for the first time and with unbounded astonishment, that he was not alone.