Master (seriously): That was one of the reasons. The seed fell on prepared soil. There had always dwelt in me the despot side by side with the liberal.
Friend: And they lived together.
Master: For a certain time.
Friend: That’s interesting.
Master (to his Companion): Tell him the tale, how two dwelled in one soul.
Friend: Whose is this tale?
Master: Mine. She learns my works by heart; she says she is ready to put them to music, to illuminate them in colours, to mould their ideas in clay, to write them out a thousand times in golden ink. (Servant brings in a bottle of mead.) Well, begin!
Companion (at the harp): There, where is so much filth and so much serene divinity, where often the very demon builds a nest and where sometimes the seraphim fly, where is preserved so much secrecy, potentiality, and marvellous power, there, in one of these wondrous abodes built, as they all are, for one, only for one—lived two. One was—(Heavens! how unpleasant to speak
