Two other doors, visible to all eyes, presented themselves at the sides of the second compartment. One opened to a small chamber lighted from the roof, and having nothing in it but a large stove, alembics, retorts, and crucibles; it was an alchemist's laboratory; the other opened on to a cell more singular than the rest of the apartment, for it was not lighted at all—had neither carpet nor furniture, but only a kind of stone altar.

The floor sloped from the centre to the ends, and from the ends to the base of the wall was a kind of gutter ending in a funnel, through whose orifice might be seen the sombre waters of the Seine. On nails driven into the walls were suspended instruments of singular shape, all keen and trenchant, with points as fine as a needle and edges as sharp as a razor: some shone like mirrors; others, on the contrary, were of a dull grey or murky blue. In a corner were two black fowls, struggling with each other and tied together by the claws. This was the Sanctuary of Augury.

Let us return to the middle chamber, that with two compartments.

It was here that the vulgar clients were introduced here were Ibises of Egypt; mummies, with gilded bands; the crocodile, yawning from the ceiling; death's heads, with eyeless sockets and gumless teeth; and here, old musty volumes, torn and rat-eaten, were presented to the eye of the visitor in pellmell confusion. Behind the curtain were phials, singularly shaped boxes, and vases of curious construction; all lighted up by two small silver lamps which, supplied with perfumed oil, cast their yellow flame around the sombre vault, to which each was suspended by three blackened chains.

René, alone, his arms crossed, was pacing up and down the second compartment with long strides, and shaking his head. After a lengthened and painful musing he paused before an hour-glass.

"Ah! ah !" he said, "I forgot to turn it; and perhaps, the sand has all passed a long time since."

Then looking at the moon, as it struggled through a heavy black cloud which seemed to hang over Notre Dame, he said: "It is nine o'clock. If she comes, she will come, as usual, in an hour or an hour and a half: then there will be time for all."

At this moment a noise was heard on the bridge. René

applied his ear to the long tube, the extremity of which reached unto the street.

"No," he said, "it is neither she nor they: it is men's footsteps, and they stop at my door-they are coming hither." And three knocks were heard at the door.

René rapidly descended, and placed his ear against the door, without opening it.

The blows were repeated.

"Who's there?" asked René.

"Is it necessary that we should mention our names?" inquired a voice.

"Absolutely indispensable,” replied René.

"Then, I am the comte Hannibal de Coconnas," said the same voice.

"And I am the count Lerac de la Mole," said another voice.

"Wait, wait a second, gentlemen, and I am at your service;" and at the same moment, René, drawing the bolts and lifting the bars, opened the door to the two young men only, locking it after him. Then conducting them by the exterior staircase, he introduced them into the second compartment.

La Mole, as he entered, made the sign of a cross under his cloak. He was pale, and his hand trembled without his being able to repress this symptom of weakness.

Coconnas looked at everything, one after the other; and seeing the door of the cell, tried to open it.

"Allow me to observe, sir," said René, in a serious tone, and placing his hand on Coconnas', "that those who do me the honour of a visit, have only access to this apartment."

“Oh, very well,” replied Coconnas; "besides, I want to sit down," and he placed himself on a chair.

There was profound silence for the next minute—maître René expecting that one or other of the young men would open the conversation.

"Maître René," at length said Coconnas, "you are a very skilful man, and I pray you tell me if I shall always remain a sufferer from my wound-that is, always experience this shortness of breath which prevents me from riding on horseback, practising feats of arms, and eating rich omelettes?"

René put his ear to Coconnas' chest, and listened attentively to the play of the lungs.

"No, comte," he replied, "you will be cured."

"Really?"

"Yes, I assure you."

"Well, I am happy to hear it."

Again, all was silent.

"Is there nothing else you would desire to know, M. le comte?

"I wish to know," said Coconnas, "if I am really in love?" "You are,” replied Renć.

"How do you know?"

"Because you ask the question."

"Mordi! you are right. But with whom?"

"With her who now, on every occasion, uses the oath you have just uttered.”

"Ah!" said Coconnas, amazed; "maitre René, you are a wonderful man! Now, la Mole, it is your turn."

La Mole blushed, and seemed embarrassed.

"I, M. René," he stammered, and speaking more firmly as he proceeded, "do not desire to ask you if I am in love; for I know that I am, and do not seek to conceal it from myself: but tell me, shall I be beloved in return? for, in truth, all that at first seemed propitious now turns against me."

"Perchance you have not done all you should do."

"What is there to do, sir, but to testify, by our respect and devotion to the lady of our thoughts, that she is really and profoundly beloved?"

"You know," replied René, "that these demonstrations are frequently very insignificant."

"Then must I despair?"

"By no means: we must have recourse to science. There are in human nature antipathies to be overcome-sympathies which may be forced. Iron is not the loadstone; but by impregnating it, we make it, in its turn, attract iron.”

"Yes, yes!" muttered la Mole; "but I have an objection to all these sorceries."

“Ah, then, if you have any such objections, you should not come here," answered René.

"Come, come, this is child's play!" interposed Coconnas. "Maître René, can you show me the devil?"

"No, M. le comte."

M

"I'm sorry for that; for I had a question or two to put to his dark highness, and it might have encouraged la Mole." "Well, then, let it be so," said la Mole; "let us go to the point at once. They have spoken to me of figures modelled in wax after the resemblance of the beloved object. Is this a method ?"

"An infallible one."

"And in the experiment, there is nothing which can in any way affect the life or health of the person beloved?" "Nothing."

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"Let us try, then."

"Shall I make first trial?" said Coconnas.

"No," said la Mole, "since I have begun, I will go through to the end."

At this moment, some one rapped lightly at the door-so lightly that maitre René alone heard the noise for which he had been awaiting.

He put, without any hesitation, his ear to the pipe, whilst he made several inquiries of la Mole. Then he added, suddenly

"And then think well of your wish, and call the person whom you love.

La Mole knelt, as if about to name a divinity; and René, going into the other compartment, went out noiselessly by the exterior staircase, and an instant afterwards, light steps trod the flooring of his shop.

La Mole rose, and beheld before him maître René. The Florentine held in his hand a small figure in wax, very indifferently modelled, and wearing a crown and mantle.

"Do you desire to be always beloved by your royal mistress?" demanded the perfumer.

"Yes, if my life-my soul, should be the sacrifice!" replied la Mole.

"Well," said the Florentine, taking with the ends of his fingers some drops of water from an ewer, sprinkling them over the figure, and muttering certain Latin words.

La Mole shuddered, believing that some sacrilege was being committed.

"What are you doing?" he inquired.

"I am christening this figure with the name of Marguerite." "For what purpose?"

"To establish a sympathy."

René then traced on a small strip of red paper certain cabalistic characters, put it into the eye of a steel needle, and with the needle pierced the small wax model in the heart.

Strange to say, at the orifice of the wound appeared a small drop of blood, and then he burnt the piece of paper. The warmth of the needle melted the wax, and dried up the spot of blood.

"Thus," said René, "by the force of sympathy, your love shall pierce and burn the heart of the woman whom you love."

Coconnas, as the bolder spirit of the two, laughed, and in a low tone jested at the whole affair; but la Mole, amorous and superstitious, felt a cold dew start from the roots of his hair.

"And now," continued René, press your lips to the lips of the figure, and say:

66

Marguerite, I love thee! Come, Marguerite, come!" La Mole obeyed.

At this moment they heard the door of the second chamber open, and light steps approach. Coconnas, curious and incredulous, drew his poniard, and fearing a rebuke from René if he raised the tapestry, cut a small piece out with his dagger, and applying his eye to the hole, uttered a cry of astonishment, to which two female voices responded.

"What is it?" exclaimed la Mole, nearly dropping the waxen figure, which René caught from his hands.

"Why," replied Coconnas, "the duchess de Nevers and madame Marguerite are there!"

"Well, then, incredulous!" replied René, with an austere smile, "do you still doubt the force of sympathy?"

La Mole was petrified on seeing the queen: Coconnas was amazed at beholding madame de Nevers. One believed that the sorceries of René had evoked the spectre of Marguerite: the other, seeing the door half opened, by which the lovely phantoms had entered, gave at once a worldly and substantial explanation to the mystery.

Whilst la Mole was crossing himself and sighing, Coconnas, who had driven away all ideas of the interference of the foul fiend by the aid of his strong powers of incredulity, having observed, through the chink in the curtain, the astonishment