"He moves," whispered Wöllner. "See, your majesty! Oh, see! There is life in his eye, his month closes, the hue of life returns to his cheek. A miracle, a miracle has taken place! The spirit has returned to the earthly tabernacle!" Bischofswerder is once more among the living; he arises. His eyes seek the king and find him. With unsteady gait, a smile on his lips, he approached the king. "Sire, my spirit greets you, my heart shouts for joy. I bring you glad tidings! The grand-kophta has yielded to my entreaties. He approaches to give my king life and health, and above all things to remove his unbelief!" "He is then really coming? He approaches?" cried the king, joyfully. "Call him, your majesty! Call the grand-kophta, but do so with a believing and confident heart." "Grand-kophta! Sublimest of the sublime! Lend an ear to my entreaties! Appear Divo Cagliostro! Appear, my lord and master!" A flash, a detonation, proceeding from the furnace, near which Wöllner stands, and all is once more concealed by the clouds of vapor which fill the room. When they at last rise and pass away, a tall figure, enveloped in a long black mantle, is seen standing in the middle of the room. The head only is uncovered, and this head is surrounded with waving black hair, in the midst of which a precious stone shines and sparkles with the lustre of a star. And the large black eyes, which are fastened on the king's countenance, with a mild and tender look, also shine like stars. Carried away with rapture and enthusiasm, the king falls on his knees, and raises his hands in adoration. But the grand-kophta advanced noiselessly to the kneeling king, begged him to rise, and helped him to do so with his own hand. "Yes, you are really my sublime master," cried the enraptured king. "I feel the warm, living body, the loving pressure of the blessing-dispensing hand. Hail, master! hail Cagliostro!"