Joseph bowed his head sadly.  “He has not yet shown himself,” he replied in a hollow voice; “all our efforts have been in vain; we have again sacrificed time, money, and strength.  He has not yet appeared.”

“Alas!” cried Fredersdorf, “who could believe it so difficult to move the devil to appear in person, when he makes his presence known daily and hourly through the deeds of men?  I must and will see him!  He must and shall make known this mystery.  He shall teach me how and of what to make gold.”

“He will yield at last!” cried Joseph, solemnly.

“What do you say?  Will we succeed?  Is not all hope lost?”

“All is not lost:  the astrologer heard this night, during his incantations, the voice of the devil, and saw for one moment the glare of his eye, though he could not see his person.”

“He saw the glare of his eye!” repeated Fredersdorf joyfully.  “Oh, we will yet compel him to show himself wholly.  He must teach us to make gold.  And what said the voice of the devil to our astrologer?”

“He said these words:  ’Would you see my face and hear words of golden wisdom from my lips? so offer me, when next the moon is full and shimmers like liquid gold in the heavens, a black ram; and if you shed his blood for me, and if not one white hair can be discovered upon him, I will appear and be subject to you.’”

“Another month of waiting, of patience, and of torture,” murmured Fredersdorf.  “Four weeks to search for this black ram without a single white hair; it will be difficult to find!”

“Oh, the world is large; we will send our messengers in every quarter; we will find it.  Those who truly seek, find at last what they covet.  But we will require much gold, and we are suffering now, unhappily, for the want of it.”

“We? whom do you mean by we?” asked Fredersdorf, with a contemptuous shrug of the shoulders.

“I, in my own person, above all others, need gold.  You can well understand, my brother, that a student as I am has no superfluous gold, even to pay his tailor’s bills, much less to buy black rams.  Captain Kleist, in whose house the assembly meets to-night, has already offered up far more valuable things than a score of black rams; he has sacrificed his health, his rest, and his domestic peace.  His beautiful wife finds it strange, indeed, that he should seek the devil every night everywhere else than in her lovely presence.”

“Yes, I understand that!  The bewitching Madame Kleist must ever remain the vain-glorious and coquettish Louise von Schwerin; marriage has infused no water in her veins.”

“No! but it has poured a river of wine in the blood of her husband, and in this turbid stream their love and happiness is drowned.  Kleist is but a corpse, whom we must soon bury from our sight.  The king has made separation and divorce easy; yes, easier than marriage.  Is it not so, my brother?  Ah, you blush; you find that your light-hearted brother has more observant eyes than you thought, and sees that which you intended to conceal.  Yes, yes!  I have indeed seen that you have been wounded by Cupid’s arrow, and that your heart bleeds while our noble king refuses his consent to your marriage.”