ickednesses, daughter,' said the Chevalier;
and the sneer-much like that which would await a person now who scrupled
at joining in table-turning or any form of spiritualism--purpled
Berenger's scar, now his only manner of blushing; but he instantly
perceived that it was the Chevalier's desire that he should consult the
conjurer, and therefore became the more resolved against running into a
trap.

'I am sure,' said Madame de Selinville, earnestly, though with an
affectation of lightness, 'a little wickedness is fair when there is a
great deal at stake. For my part, I would not hesitate long, to find out
how soon the King will relent towards my fair cousin here!'

'That, Madame,' said Berenger, with the same grave dryness, 'is likely
to be better known to other persons than this wandering Greek boy.'

Here Philip's step was heard returning hastily. He was pale, and looked
a good deal excited, so that Madame de Selinville uttered a little cry,
and exclaimed, 'Ah! is it so dreadful then?'

'No, no, Madame,' said Philip, turning round, with a fervour and
confidence he had never before shown. 'On my word, there is nothing
formidable. You see nothing--nothing but the Italia and the boy. The boy
gazes into a vessel of some black liquid, and sees--sees there all you
would have revealed. Ah!'

'Then you believe?' asked Madame de Selinville.

'It cannot be false,' answered Philip; 'he told me everything. Things he
could not have known. My very home, my father's house, passed in review
before that strange little blackamoor's eyes; where I--though I would
have given worlds to see it--beheld only the lamp mirrored in the dark
pool.'

'How do you know it was your father's house?' said Berenger.

'I could not doubt. Just to test the fellow, I bade him ask for my
native place. The little boy gazed, smiled, babbled his gibberish,
pointed. The man said he spoke of a fair mansion among green fields and
hills, "a grand _cavalier embonpoint_,"--those were his very words,--at
the door, with a tankard in one hand. Ah! my dear father, why could not
I see him too? But who could mistake him or the Manor?'

'And did he speak of future as well as past?' said Diane.

'Yes, yes, yes,' said Philip, with more agitation. 'Lady, that will you
know for yourself.'

'It was not dreadful?' she said, rising.

'Oh no!' and Philip had become crimson, and hesitated; 'certes, not
dreadful. But---I must not say more.'

'Save good night,' said Beren