The man in black brought forward two stools, and led the way behind the curtain. "It is warmer here," he said, pushing aside an earthen pipkin, and clearing a space with his foot in front of the glowing embers. "Now I am at your service, M. de Vidoche. Pray be seated." "Are we alone?" the young noble asked suspiciously. "Trust me for that," the astrologer answered. "I know my business." But M. de Vidoche seemed to find some difficulty in stating his; though he had evinced so high a regard for time a moment before. He sat irresolute, stealing malevolent glances first at his companion, and then at the dull, angry-looking fire. If he expected M. Nôtredame to help him, however, he did not yet know his host. The astrologer sat patiently waiting, with every expression, save placid expectation, discharged from his face. "Oh, d----n you!" the young man ejaculated at last. "Have you got nothing to say? You know what I want," he added, with irritation, "as well as I do." "I shall be happy to learn," the astrologer answered politely. "Give it me without more words, and let me go!" The astrologer raised his eyebrows. "Alas! there is a limit to omniscience," he said, shaking his head gently. "It is true we keep it in stock--to frighten children. But it does not help me at present, M. de Vidoche." M. de Vidoche looked at him with an evil scowl. "I see; you want me to commit myself," he muttered. The perspiration stood on his forehead, and his voice was husky with rage or some other emotion. "I was a fool to come here," he continued. "If you must have it, I want to kill a cat; and I want something to give to it." The astrologer laughed silently. "The mountain was in labour, and lo! a cat!" he said, in a tone of amusement. "And lo! a cat! Well, in that case I am afraid you have come to the wrong place, M. de Vidoche. I don't kill cats. There is no risk in it, you see," he continued, looking fixedly at his companion, "and no profit. Nobody cares about a cat. The first herbalist you come to will give you what you want for a few sous. Even if the creature turns black within the hour, and its mouth goes to the nape of its neck," he went on, with a horrid smile, "as Madame de Beaufort's did--_cui malo?_--no one is a penny the worse. But if it were a question of---- I think I saw monsieur riding in company with Mademoiselle de Farincourt to-day?" M. de Vidoche, who had been contemplating his tormentor with eyes of rage and horror, started at the unexpected question. "Well," he muttered, "and what if I was?" "Oh, nothing," the man in black answered carelessly. "Mademoiselle is beautiful, and monsieur is a happy man if she smiles on him. But she is high-born; and proud, I am told." He leaned forward as he spoke, and warmed his long, lean hands at the fire. But his beady eyes never left the other's face. M. de Vidoche writhed under their gaze. "Curse you!" he muttered hoarsely. "What do you mean?"