"Innocent!" she cried, rising to her feet; then changing her scornful tones, she turned a pleading face towards her companion. "I swear to thee that there is no trick, I swear by all the saints in heaven, or"—she added bitterly as she noted the suspicion in his eye—"by all the devils of hell, if that be an oath more in keeping with this abode." He laughed softly, turning a tender eye on the gold, then on the face above it, finally on the closed door. As if divining a menace in the glance, the girl placed her hand within her dress, and the ominous glitter of steel warned the man that this was no occasion for foul play, did he meditate such. "Nay," he said, as if suddenly yielding to the temptation which lay glittering before him, "I will trust thee, maiden; thou shalt have the phial. But the price is high." He repeated the last words softly, glancing again from her face to the pile of gold. "Gold!" she cried, flinging the word from her in scorn; "yes, you shall have gold—see, more gold than this,—much more; I have it here,—only hasten, hasten, else it will be too late." He watched her with greedy eyes as she poured forth more money upon the already goodly pile. No leather money this, the impoverished coin of an impoverished land—but good gold,—French gold, warm-hued and glittering. "And so he still liveth," quoth the wizard slowly, as he bent once more over his crucible. "I had heard—nay, what matter what I heard? The wind singeth strange songs in yon sere branches, and the night owls bring many a false tale. And so he lives?—and you, fair lady, are glad that death hath not yet taken him from your warm embrace? Ah! it is good to love in youth. See, once also I was young too, and I remember; that is why I prepare here my love-charms for the young and joyous, although for me the branches of the forest bear no green leaves and my arms are empty." But Diane de Coray made no reply to the mocking words, only standing there, pale and fear-stricken, yet with a defiance in her dark eyes which seemed to challenge death itself to mortal combat. "Love and hate," maundered the old man, half to himself, as he stirred the drugs he held in a tiny crystal bowl; "love and hate, love and hate, they are strong masters, mistress, strong masters, and lead by strange paths. It is I who know—aha! who so well? There have been secrets whispered in these ears—have they not, my Pedro? Yes, such secrets as might well blanch those fair cheeks yonder; but she shall not hear—no, no, for secrets have their price. Yes, a goodly price!" The raven croaked dismally, as if in reply to its master’s words, and rubbed its beak against the skull-cap in weird caress; whilst the cat, as though jealous, rose, purring, to push her sleek body against his legs. But Diane’s eyes were fixed only on the dark drops of liquid which, with steady hand, were being slowly poured into the phial.