“Be not alarmed, Pedro, you shall have sweetmeats directly.  Tell me what thou seest, how the man is dressed?”

“He has a short coat—­he has white trousers—­he looks about him—­he takes something out of his breast and kisses it.”

“’Tis he! ’tis he! and he lives!  Heaven, I thank thee.  Look again, boy.”

“He gets up (I don’t like this play; I am frightened; indeed I am.)”

“Fear not.”

“Oh, yes, I am—­I cannot,” replied Pedro, falling on his knees; “pray let me go,”

Pedro had turned his hand, and spilt the ink, the charm was broken, and Amine could learn no more.  She soothed the boy with presents, made him repeat his promise that he would not tell, and postponed further search into fate until the boy should appear to have recovered from his terror, and be willing to resume the ceremonies.

“My Philip lives—­mother, dear mother, I thank you.”

Amine did not allow Pedro to leave the room until he appeared to have quite recovered from his fright; for some days she did not say anything to him, except to remind him of his promise not to tell his mother, or any one else, and she loaded him with presents.

One afternoon when his mother was gone out, Pedro came in, and asked Amine “whether they should not have the play over again?”

Amine, who was anxious to know more, was glad of the boy’s request, and soon had everything prepared.  Again was her chamber filled with the smoke of the frankincense:  again was she muttering her incantations:  the magic mirror was on the boy’s hand, and once more had Pedro cried out, “Philip Vanderdecken, appear!” when the door burst open, and Father Mathias, the widow, and several other people made their appearance.  Amine started up—­Pedro screamed and ran to his mother.

“Then I was not mistaken at what I saw in the cottage at Terneuse,” cried Father Mathias, with his arms folded over his breast, and with looks of indignation; “accursed sorceress! you are detected.”

Amine returned his gaze with scorn, and coolly replied, “I am not of your creed—­you know it.  Eaves-dropping appears to be a portion of your religion.  This is my chamber—­it is not the first time I have had to request you to leave it—­I do so now—­you—­and those who have come in with you.”

“Take up all those implements of sorcery first,” said Father Mathias to his companions.  The chafing dish, and other articles used by Amine, were taken away; and Father Mathias and the others quitting the room, Amine was left alone.

Amine had a foreboding that she was lost; she knew that magic was a crime of the highest degree in Catholic countries, and that she had been detected in the very act.  “Well, well;” thought Amine; “it is my destiny, and I can brave the worst.”