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"I can also," said I; "and I have done
it."
"And who are you, then?" he asked.
"A common traveller," I replied; "a
traveller who pays for his conveyance. And
who are you?"
The man sighed.
"You do not know me: my time is past;
my power is nothing! Bloodless is stronger
than I!" and he was gone.
I then understood who he was. Well, in
what humour must a poor mountain sprite be,
who only comes up every hundred years to see
how things go forward here on the earth!
It was the mountain sprite and no other, for
in our time every intelligent person is considerably
wiser; and I looked with a sort of proud
feeling on the present generation, on the gushing,
rushing, whirling wheel, the heavy blows of the
hammer, the shears that cut so softly through
the metal plates, the thick iron bars that were
broken like sticks of sealing-wax, and the music
to which the heart’s pulsations vibrate: "Banco,
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