h a rascal."

"Everything depends on the manner in which the sorcerer will extricate
himself from this business."

"Listen to me. The poor devil is now pretending to be scrupulous. He
will not show his tricks unless he hears the sound of gold. There are
nine of us. Let us make a collection. That will spoil his scheme, and
perhaps open the eyes of the prince."

"I am content." The Englishman threw six guineas upon a plate, and went
round gathering subscriptions. Each of us contributed some louis-d'ors.
The Russian officer was particularly pleased with our proposal; he laid
a bank-note of one hundred zechins on the plate, a piece of extravagance
which startled the Englishman. We brought the collection to the prince.
"Be so kind," said the English lord, "as to entreat this gentleman in
our names to let us see a specimen of his art, and to accept of this
small token of our gratitude." The prince added a ring of value, and
offered the whole to the Sicilian. He hesitated a few moments.
"Gentlemen," answered he, "I am humbled by this generosity, but I yield
to your request. Your wishes shall be gratified." At the same time he
rang the bell. "As for this money," continued he, "to which I have no
right myself, permit me to send it to the next monastery to be applied
to pious uses. I shall only keep this ring as a precious memorial of
the worthiest of princes."

Here the landlord entered; and the Sicilian handed him over the money.
"He is a rascal notwithstanding," whispered the Englishman to me.
"He refuses the money because at present his designs are chiefly on the
prince."

"Whom do you wish to see?" asked the sorcerer.

The prince considered for a moment. "We may as well have a great man at
once," said the Englishman. "Ask for Pope Ganganelli. It can make no
difference to this gentleman."

The Sicilian bit his lips. "I dare not call one of the Lord's
anointed."

"That is a pity!" replied the English lord; "perhaps we might have
heard from him what disorder he died of."

"The Marquis de Lanoy," began the prince, "was a French brigadier in the
late war, and my most intimate friend. Having received a mortal wound
in the battle of Hastinbeck, he was carried to my tent, where he soon
after died in my arms. In his last agony he made a sign for me to
approach. 'Prince,' said he to me, 'I shall never again behold my
native land. I must, therefore, acquaint you with a secret known to
none but myself. In a convent on the fr