life devoted to his
darling science was anything but a curse. Intoxicated for the moment by
what he had seen, he sprang forward, exclaiming:

"I'll risk the curse if I can have the life!"

As his hand touched one of the roses, Phadrig's darted out and caught
his wrist. He was a powerful youth, but the instant Phadrig's hand
gripped him he stopped, as though he had been suddenly stricken by
paralysis. He turned a white, scared face with fear-dilated eyes upward,
and said in a half-choked voice:

"What's the matter? If what you say's true, give me eternal life, and
I'll give it to Science."

"My young friend," said Phadrig, with a slow shake of his head, "you are
grievously mistaken. You have eternal life already. You may kill your
body, or it may die of age or disease, but the life of your soul is not
yours to take or keep. Only the High Gods can dispose of that. Who am I
that I should abet you in defying their decrees? Here is my refusal of
your mad request."

He plucked the rose which Caine had touched, held it to his lips and
breathed on it. The next instant the withered leaves fell to the
ground, and lay there dry and shrivelled. The stalk was brown and dry.
As he released Caine's wrist he dropped the stalk in the middle of the
bush, and said in a loud tone:

"As thou hast lived, die--as all things must which shall live again."

As quickly as the rose-bush had grown and flowered so quickly, it
withered and died. In a few moments there was nothing left of it but a
few dry sticks lying in a little heap of dust.

The circle suddenly widened out as the people shrank back, every face
showing, not only wonder now, but actual fear; and now Franklin Marmion
felt that Phadrig had been allowed to go as far as a due consideration
for the sanity of his guests would permit. The other two Professors were
disputing in low, anxious tones, as if even their scepticism was shaken
at last: Martin Caine had drifted away through the opening press to hide
his terror and chagrin. The Adept stood impassively triumphant beside
the poor relics of the rose-bush, but obviously enjoying the
consternation that he had produced--for now the lust of power which ever
attends upon imperfect knowledge had taken hold of him, and he was
devising yet another marvel for their bewilderment. But before he had
arrived at his decision, something else happened which was quite outside
his programme.

The Prince broke the chilly silence by saying to Ni