"You here, again, Mr. Ormiston! To what am I indebted for the honor of
two visits in two days?"
Her voice, Sir Norman thought, was the sweetest he had ever heard,
musical as a chime of silver bells, soft as the tones of an aeolian harp
through which the west wind plays.
"Madam, I am aware my visits are undesired," said Ormiston, with a
flushing cheek and, slightly tremulous voice; "but I have merely come
with my friend, Sir Norman Kingsley, who wishes to know what the future
has in store for him."
Thus invoked, Sir Norman Kingsley stepped forward with another low bow
to the masked lady.
"Yes, madam, I have long heard that those fair fingers can withdraw the
curtain of the future, and I have come to see what Dame Destiny is going
to do for me."
"Sir Norman Kingsley is welcome," said the sweet voice, "and shall see
what he desires. There is but one condition, that he will keep perfectly
silent; for if he speaks, the scene he beholds will vanish. Come
forward!"
Sir Norman compressed his lips as closely am if they were forever
hermetically sealed, and came forward accordingly. Leaning over the edge
of the ebony caldron, he found that it contained nothing more dreadful
than water, for he labored under a vague and unpleasant idea that, like
the witches' caldron in Macbeth, it might be filled with serpents' blood
and children's' brains. La Masque opened her golden casket, and took
from it a portion of red powder, with which it was filled. Casting it
into the caldron, she murmured an invocation in Sanscrit, or Coptic,
or some other unknown tongue, and slowly there arose a dense cloud of
dark-red smoke, that nearly filled the room. Had Sir Norman ever read
the story of Aladdin, he would probably have thought of it then; but
the young courtier did not greatly affect literature of any kind, and
thought of nothing now but of seeing something when the smoke cleared
away. It was rather long in doing so, and when it did, he saw nothing
at first but his own handsome, half-serious, half-incredulous face; but
gradually a picture, distinct and clear, formed itself at the bottom,
and Sir Norman gazed with bewildered eyes. He saw a large room filled
with a sparkling crowd, many of them ladies, splendidly arrayed and
flashing in jewels, and foremost among them stood one whose beauty
surpassed anything he had ever before dreamed of. She wore the robes of
a queen, purple and ermine--diamonds blazed on the beautiful neck, arms,
and fingers, and a tiara of the same brilliants crowned her regal head.
In one hand she held a sceptre; what seemed to be a throne was behind
her, but something that surprised Sir Norton most of all was, to find
himself standing beside her, the cynosure of all eyes. While he yet
gazed in mingled astonishment and incredulity, the scene faded away,
and another took its place. This time a dungeon-cell, damp and dismal;
walls, and floor, and ceiling covered with green and hideous slime. A
small lamp stood on the floor, and by its sickly, watery gleam, he saw
himself again standing, pale and dejected, near the wall. But he was not
alone; the same glittering vision in purple and diamonds stood before
him, and suddenly he drew his sword and plunged it up to the hilt in her
heart! The beautiful vision fell like a stone at his feet, and the sword
was drawn out reeking with her life-blood. This was a little too
much for the real Sir Norman, and with an expression of indignant
consternation, he sprang upright. Instantly it all faded away and the
reflection of his own excited face looked up at him from the caldron.