‘Ay,’ cried Philip, ’right, lad; and can he tell how long I shall be so?’

‘Things yet to come,’ said the mountebank, ’are only revealed after long preparation.  For them must he gaze into the dark poor of the future.  The present and the past he can divine by the mere touch of what has belonged to the person.’

‘It is passing strange,’ said Philip to Madame de Selinville.  ’You credit it, Madame?’

’Ah, have we not seen the wonders come to pass that a like diviner fortold to the Queen-mother?’ said Diane:  ’her sons should be all kings—­that was told her when the eldest was yet Dauphin.’

‘And there is only one yet to come,’ said Philip, awe-struck.  ’But see, what has he now?’

‘Veronique’s kerchief,’ returned Madame de Selinville, as the Italian began to interpret the boy’s gesture.

’Pretty maidens, he says, serve fair ladies—­bear tokens for them.  This damsel has once been the bearer of a bouquet of heather of the pink and white, whose bells were to ring hope.’

‘Eh, eh, Madame, it is true?’ cried Veronique, crimson with surprise and alarm.  ‘M. le Baron knows it is true.’

Berenger had started at this revelation, and uttered an inarticulate exclamation; but at that moment the boy, in whose hand his master had placed a crown from the money newly paid, began to make vehement gestures, which the main interpreted. ’Le Balafre, he says, pardon me, gentlemen, le Balafre could reveal even a deeper scar of the heart than of the visage’—­and the boy’s brown hand was pressed on his heart—­’yet truly there is yet hope (esperance) to be found.  Yes’—­as the boy put his hand to his neck—­’he bears a pearl, parted from its sister pearls.  Where they are, there is hope.  Who can miss Hope, who has sought it at a royal death-bed?’

‘Ah, where is it?’ Berenger could not help exclaiming.

‘Sir,’ said the pedlar, ’as I told Messieurs and Mesdames before, the spirits that cast the lights of the future on the dark pool need invocation.  Ere he can answer M. le Baron’s demands, he and I must have time and seclusion.  If Monsieur le Chevalier will grant us an empty room, there will we answer all queries on which the spirits will throw light.’

’And how am I to know that you will not bring the devil to shatter the castle, my friend?’ demanded the Chevalier.  ’Or more likely still, that you are not laughing all the time at these credulous boys and ladies?’

‘Of that, sir, you may here convince yourself,’ said the mountebank, putting into his hand a sort of credential in Italian, signed by Renato di Milano, the Queen’s perfumer, testifying to the skill of his compatriot Ercole Stizzito both in perfumery, cosmetics, and in the secrets of occult sciences.

The Chevalier was no Italian scholar, and his daughter interpreted the scroll to him, in a rapid low voice, adding, ’I have had many dealings with Rene of Milan, father.  I know he speaks sooth.  There can be no harm in letting the poor man play out his play—­all the castle servants will be frantic to have their fortunes told.’