"You think the price too high?" said the old man.
"I do not know that it is too much for you to ask," replied Cosmo; "but
it is far too much for me to give."
The old man held up his light towards Cosmo's face. "I like your look,"
said he.
Cosmo could not return the compliment. In fact, now he looked closely
at him for the first time, he felt a kind of repugnance to him, mingled
with a strange feeling of doubt whether a man or a woman stood before
him.
"What is your name?" he continued.
"Cosmo von Wehrstahl."
"Ah, ah! I thought as much. I see your father in you. I knew your father
very well, young sir. I dare say in some odd corners of my house, you
might find some old things with his crest and cipher upon them still.
Well, I like you: you shall have the mirror at the fourth part of what I
asked for it; but upon one condition."
"What is that?" said Cosmo; for, although the price was still a great
deal for him to give, he could just manage it; and the desire to possess
the mirror had increased to an altogether unaccountable degree, since it
had seemed beyond his reach.
"That if you should ever want to get rid of it again, you will let me
have the first offer."
"Certainly," replied Cosmo, with a smile; adding, "a moderate condition
indeed."
"On your honour?" insisted the seller.
"On my honour," said the buyer; and the bargain was concluded.
"I will carry it home for you," said the old man, as Cosmo took it in
his hands.
"No, no; I will carry it myself," said he; for he had a peculiar dislike
to revealing his residence to any one, and more especially to this
person, to whom he felt every moment a greater antipathy. "Just as you
please," said the old creature, and muttered to himself as he held his
light at the door to show him out of the court: "Sold for the sixth
time! I wonder what will be the upshot of it this time. I should think
my lady had enough of it by now!"
Cosmo carried his prize carefully home. But all the way he had an
uncomfortable feeling that he was watched and dogged. Repeatedly he
looked about, but saw nothing to justify his suspicions. Indeed, the
streets were too crowded and too ill lighted to expose very readily
a careful spy, if such there should be at his heels. He reached his
lodging in safety, and leaned his purchase against the wall, rather
relieved, strong as he was, to be rid of its weight; then, lighting his
pipe, threw himself on the couch, and was soon lapt in the folds of one
of his haunting dreams.