“If Hero believed it was thus appointed by fate, the fact was a potent consolation for all the grief of renunciation. Besides--do you know whether this union _was_ for their happiness? My oracle interposed, separated two persons who wished to be united: well, this was really the will of fate; for everything that happens is absolutely necessary, and events are strung on the infrangible threads of chance. If you tell me that my prophecy would have destroyed their happiness, I shall answer with equal confidence: it would have saved them from misery.” “Admirable logic, by Hercules!” replied Bononius. “But we won’t argue about the matter! So Agathon bought--or paid you. Did he tell you his reasons?” “I did not ask him; but as I knew the man, I guessed them. I knew that Agathon had been on the verge of ruin for several months, and having learned that Hero is one of the richest heiresses in the seven-hilled city....” “How did you learn that?” “Was I to remain ignorant of what hundreds know? I don’t keep paid informers in all the fourteen districts for nothing....” “Very well. So you complied with his request, wrote to Hero, and sent her the mysterious page, which so strangely covered itself with black writing. How is this explained?” “The mysterious writing can be explained simply enough,” replied Olbasanus. “I prepare from milk, salt water, and a third ingredient, whose combination I invented with great difficulty, a colorless ink which turns black as soon as it is warmed. The page from the book of the god Amun was of course previously written; the heat of the fire produced the miracle that drove the poor, foolish girl to despair.” “Confoundedly simple, to be sure!” said the mortified Bononius. “Name the third ingredient.” “How can I designate a nameless thing? It is known only to me; but to explain its preparation....” “You are right. There are more important things in store for us. First: how could you know that the youth who accompanied me, and whom I only encountered by accident, was Lucius Rutilius? He assures me that he never met you. Did you recognize him?” “No. But I was daily expecting a visit from him. Besides, Agathon knew him, and Agathon met you as he left my door. While my servant was leading you by a roundabout way to the hall of conjuration, Agathon hurriedly returned and informed me of Rutilius’s immediate arrival.” “Yet the servant could not possibly foresee that it would be for your interest to delay our arrival. So why did he choose that way?” “It is the rule. All strangers pass through those corridors; only those who come on errands, like Agathon, are conducted directly to my rooms.” “I understand,” said Bononius. “But suppose--we had _not_ met Agathon?” “Then it would undoubtedly have cost me more trouble to ascertain the personality of your companion--and I should have performed other miracles.” “How did it happen that the candelabra around were lighted when you raised your wand?”