Heinemann was breathing hard, with sweat now beading on his brow. His chest heaved, his back arched, but Faust did not seem to notice his distress. The old man was babbling something about trust or perhaps not trusting.

"You," he managed, "Keep company with monsters. You are a monster. The monster who married my sweet niece. I won't tell you anything."

"But you will tell me," said Faust, switching to German himself. "Oh, you miserable old man. How long have you sat on this knowledge? Did stories get back to you? Stories about what I'd been up to?"

"Yes," the old man breathed. "Yes! I know what it is you're trying to do."

"Then let me make this simple," said Faust. "Give me what I want, and I'll go away."