“What is this?” exclaimed the Englishman, in astonishment, aiming a blow at the ghost with a sword. The figure touched his arm, and the weapon fell to the ground. The perspiration stood on my brow with horror. Baron ------ afterwards confessed to me that he had prayed silently. During all this time the prince stood fearless and tranquil, his eyes riveted on the second apparition. “Yes, I know thee,” said he at length, with emotion; “thou art Lanoy; thou art my friend. Whence comest thou?” “Eternity is mute. Ask me concerning my past life.” “Who is it that lives in the convent which thou mentionedst to me in thy last moments?” “My daughter.” “How? Hast thou been a father?” “Woe is me that I was not.” “Art thou not happy, Lanoy?” “God has judged.” “Can I render thee any further service in this world?” “None but to think of thyself.” “How must I do that?” “Thou wilt learn at Rome.” The thunder again rolled; a black cloud of smoke filled the room; when it had dispersed the figure was no longer visible. I forced open one of the window shutters. It was daylight. The sorcerer now recovered from his swoon. “Where are we?” asked he, seeing the daylight. The Russian officer stood close beside him, and looked over his shoulder. “Juggler,” said he to him, with a terrible countenance, “Thou shalt summon no more ghosts.” The Sicilian turned round, looked steadfastly in his face, uttered a loud shriek, and threw himself at his feet. We looked all at once at the pretended Russian. The prince instantly recognized the features of the Armenian, and the words he was about to utter expired on his tongue. We were all as it were petrified with fear and amazement. Silent and motionless, our eyes were fixed on this mysterious being, who beheld us with a calm but penetrating look of grandeur and superiority. A minute elapsed in this awful silence; another succeeded; not a breath was to be heard.