“Ere the curfew,” replied Cornelius.

“Look thee—­’tis but a slender space for mine art to work, and”—­The seer, as he uttered this with great solemnity, entered the antechamber.  The gallant stood there, just meditating a retreat.  A flush of anger and confusion passed for a moment over Kelly’s visage.  Quickly recovering his self-possession, with a severe aspect, he stood before the intruder.

“Art come to listen or to watch?” abruptly interrogated the seer.  “Both be rare accomplishments truly for a youth of thy breeding.”

“Nay, good Master Kelly; I came but at thy bidding, and mine ears are not the heavier or the wiser for what they have heard, I trow.”

“I thought thee safe at morning prayers.”

“Nay,” replied Rodolf.  “There be too many bright eyes and blushing cheeks for the seasoning of a man’s devotions.”

“Cornelius, thou mayest retire.  What mine art can compass shall not be lacking at thy need.”

The merchant, with a profound obeisance, withdrew.  The seer adjusted his beard, carefully brushed the down from his velvet cap, and sate for a while as if abstracted from all outward intercourse.  His keen quick eye became fixed, its lustre imperceptibly waning.  A cloud seemed to pass gradually over his sharp features, until their expression was absorbed, giving place to a look of mere lifeless inanity.  A spectator might have fancied himself gazing at a sage of some remote era, conjured up from his dark resting-place.  The wand of death seemed to have withered his shrunk visage for ages under the dim shadow of the grave.

Rodolf, aware that he was not to be interrupted when the gift was upon him, waited patiently the result of the seer’s revelations.  A considerable time had elapsed when the cloud began to roll away.  His features gradually reassumed the attributes of life, as each separately felt the returning animation.  His eyes rested full on the cavalier.

“I have had a vision, Rodolf.”

“To me is it not spoken?” inquired he.

“Yea, to thee!” The seer said this in a tone so hollow and energetic, and with a look of such thrilling awe, that even Rodolf shuddered.  He seemed to feel his glance.

“Listen.  The spirit warned me thus:—­

    “’The stranger that hither comes o’er the broad sea
    Shall wed on the night of St Bartlemy.’”

“Nay, Master Kelly, thine art faileth this once, forsooth.  To-night is the saint’s vigil, yet lurk I not in the beam of a woman’s favour; and ere another year I may be cured of the simples at my father’s dwelling in the old castle.”

“The vision hath spoken, and it setteth not forth idle tales.  Come to me anon, I will anoint and prepare my beryl and my divining mirror.  Thou shall thyself behold some of the mysteries touching which I have warned thee beforetime.  About noon return to my chamber.”