The scene underwent a sudden change, and I now found myself in a small
and dimly-lighted apartment, which seemed designed equally for a studio
and a laboratory of art. The walls were surrounded by enormous cases, on
the shelves of which were massive scrolls of vellum, huge parchment
manuscripts, and volumes fastened with clasps of brass and silver. Some
of these lay open. Charts hung wide marked with strange characters.
Frames of ebony were thus suspended also bearing the signs of the
zodiac. Other furniture, of quaint and strange fashion, seemed to show
conclusively that the possessor pursued the seductive science of
astrology. He had other pursuits—a small furnace, the coals of which
were ignited, occupied one corner of the chamber, near which stood a
table covered with retorts and receivers, cylinders and gauging-glasses,
and all the other paraphernalia which usually belong to the analytic
worker in chemistry. The old man, and the young girl described in the
previous scene, were, at first, the only occupants of the apartment. But
a few moments elapsed, however, when an inner door was thrown open, and
a third party appeared, closely enveloped in a cloak of sable. This he
threw aside, and I discovered him to be the same person who had been the
chief counselor of the king, and whom I supposed to be his favorite. At
his entrance the damsel disappeared. The stranger then, somewhat
abruptly, began in the following manner:
“Why, O why did you not choose me for your champion?”
“And why, my lord, expose you to a conflict with one of the bravest
warriors in all the realm?”
“He is brave, but I fear him not; besides, he who fights against guilt
hath a strength of arm which supplies all deficiencies. But it is not
too late. I may still supply your place.”
“Forgive me, dear lord, but I have made my election.”
“Alas! old man, why are you thus obstinate? He will slay you at the
first encounter.”
“And if he does, what matter! I have but a brief space to live,
according to the common allotment. He hath many, which were well
employed devoted to repentance. It were terrible, indeed, that he should
be hurried before the awful tribunal of Heaven with all the blackness in
his soul, with all his sins unpurged, upon his conscience.”
“Why, this is veriest madness. Think you what will follow your
submission and defeat? He will pursue his conspiracy. Others will do
what you have refused. He will drag other and bitter spirits into his
scheme. He will bring murder into our palaces, and desolation into our
cities. Know you not the man as I know him? Shall he be suffered to
escape, when the hand of God has clearly shown you that his purposes are
to be overthrown, and his crime to be punished through your agency?”
“And it shall be so, my dear lord. It is not my purpose to submit. The
traitor shall be met in battle.”
“But by thyself. Why not a champion? I am ready.”
“Greatly, indeed, do I thank and honor thee, my lord; but it cannot be!”
“Methinks there is some touch of insanity about thee, old man, in spite
of all thy wisdom. Thou canst not hope to contend, in sooth, against
this powerful warrior. He will hurl thee to the earth with the first
thrust of his heavy lance; or smite thee down to death with a single
blow of battle-axe or dagger.”
“Hear me, my lord, and have no fear. Thou knowest not the terrible
powers which I possess, nor should any know, but that this necessity
compels me to employ them. I will slay my enemy and thine. He cannot
harm me. He will perish helplessly ere his weapon shall be twice lifted
to affront me.”
“Thou meanest not to employ sorcery?”
“Be assured, my lord, I shall use a carnal agent only. The instrument
which I shall take with me to battle, though of terrible and destructive
power, shall be as fully blessed of Heaven, as any in your mortal
armory.”
“Be it so! I am glad that thou art so confident; and yet, let me entreat
thee to trust thy battle to my hands.”
“No, my dear lord, no! To thee there would be danger—to me, none. I
thank thee for thy goodness, and will name thee in my prayers to
Heaven.”
We need not pursue their dialogue, which was greatly prolonged, and
included much other matter which did not concern the event before us.
When the nobleman took his departure, the damsel reappeared. The old man
took her in his embrace, and while the tears glistened upon his snowy
beard, he thus addressed her:
“But for thee—for thee, chiefly—daughter of the beloved and sainted
child in Heaven, I had spared myself this trial. This wretched man
should live wert thou not present, making it needful that I should still
prolong to the last possible moment, the remnant of my days. Were I to
perish, where wert thou? What would be the safety of the sweet one and
the desolate? The insect would descend upon the bud, and it would lose
scent and freshness. The worm would fasten upon the flower, and a poison
worse than death would prey upon its core. No! my poor Lucilla, I must
live for thee, though I live not for myself. I must shed the blood of
mine enemy, and spare mine own, that thou mayest not be desolate.”