The Pact with Satan
Thibault stopped short on the threshold, overcome with astonishment at this re-apparition. “I was saying,” began the wolf, as if nothing had happened to interrupt the conversation, “that it is out of my power to grant you the accomplishment of all the wishes you may have in future for your own comfort and advancement.”
“Then I am to expect nothing from you?”
“Not so, for the ill you wish your neighbour can be carried out with my help.”
“And, pray, what good would that do me personally?”
“You fool! has not a moralist said, ‘There is always something sweet to us in the misfortune of our friends—even the dearest.’ ”
“Was it a wolf said that? I did not know wolves could boast of moralists among their number.”
“No, it was not a wolf, it was a man.”
“And was the man hanged?”
“On the contrary, he was made Governor of part of Poitou; there are, to be sure, a good many wolves in that province—well then, if there is something pleasant in the misfortune of our best friend, cannot you understand what a subject of rejoicing the misfortune of our worst enemy must be!”
“There is some truth in that, certainly,” said Thibault.