“You are sure of what you say, Remy?”

“All this I have tried.  See these birds who can now neither drink nor eat; they have drunk of water like this.  See this goat who has browsed on grass watered with this same water; he moves and totters; vainly now should we restore him to life and liberty; his life is forfeited, unless, indeed, nature should reveal to his instinct some of those antidotes to poison which animals know, although men do not.”—­“Can I see this phial, Remy?”

“Yes, madame, presently.”

Remy then separated it from the still with infinite care, then corked it with soft wax, tied the top up in cloth, and then presented it to Diana.

She took it, held it up to the light, and, after looking at it, said: 

“It will do; when the time arrives we will choose gloves, lamp, soap, or flowers, as convenient.  Will the liquor keep in metal?”—­“It eats it away.”

“But then, perhaps, the bottle will break?”

“I think not—­see the thickness of the crystal; besides, we can shut it up in a covering of gold.”

“Listen, Remy!  I hear horses; I think ours have arrived.”

“Probably, madame, it is about the time; but I will go and send them away.”

“Why so?”

“Are they not useless?”

“Instead of going to Meridor, we will go into Flanders.  Keep the horses.”

“Ah!  I understand!” and Remy’s eyes gave forth a flash of sinister joy.

“But Grandchamp; what can we do with him?” said he.

“He has need of repose.  He shall remain here, and sell this house, which we require no longer.  But restore to liberty that unhappy animal, whom you were forced to torture.  As you say, God may care for its recovery.”

“This furnace, and these stills?”

“Leave them here.”

“But these powders, essences, and acids?”

“Throw them in the fire, Remy.”

“Go away, then, or put on this glass mask.”

Then, taking similar precautions for himself, he blew up the fire again, poured in the powder, which went off in brilliant sparks, some green and some yellow; and the essences, which, instead of being consumed, mounted like serpents of fire into the pipe, with a noise like distant thunder.

“Now,” said Remy, “if any one now discovers this cave, he will only think that an alchemist has been here, and though they still burn sorcerers, they respect alchemists.”

“And besides,” said the lady, “if they do burn us, provided I have only finished my task, I should not mind that sort of death more than any other.”

At this moment they heard knocking.

“Here are our horses, madame,” said Remy; “go up quickly, and I will close the trap-door.”

Diana obeyed, and found Grandchamp, whom the noise had awakened, at the door.

The old man was not a little surprised to hear of his mistress’s intended departure, who informed him of it without telling him where she was going.