M. de Vidoche found his voice at last "My wife!" he whispered. The astrologer's shoulders went up to his ears. He spread out his hands. He nodded--once, twice. "_Mais oui, Madame!_" he said. "Here?--now?" M. de Vidoche stammered, his eyes wide with astonishment. "She is in the chamber of the astrolabe." "_Mon Dieu!_" the husband exclaimed. "_Mon Dieu!_" And then for a moment he shook, as if someone were passing over his grave. His face was pale. There was dread mingled with his surprise. "I do not understand," he muttered at last. "What does it mean? What is she doing here?" "She has come for a love-philtre," M. Nôtredame answered, with a sphinx-like smile. "For whom?" "For you." The husband drew a deep breath. "For me?" he exclaimed. "Impossible!" "Possible," the man in black answered quietly; "and true." "Then what shall you do?" "Give her one," the astrologer answered. The enigmatical smile, which had been all along playing on his face, grew deeper, keener, more cruel. His eyes gleamed with triumph--and evil. "I shall give her one," he said again. "But--what will she do with it?" M. de Vidoche muttered. "_Take it!_ You fool, cannot you understand?" the man in black answered sharply. "Give me back the powders. I shall give them to her. She will take them--_herself_. You will be saved--all!" M. de Vidoche reeled. "My God!" he cried. "I think you are the devil!" "Perhaps," the man in black answered "but give me the powders." CHAPTER VI. THE POWDER OF ATTRACTION. Meanwhile, a few yards away, in the room of the astrolabe, Madame de Vidoche sat, waiting and trembling, afraid to move from the spot where the astrologer had placed her, and longing for his return. The minutes seemed endless, the house a grave. The silence and mystery which wrapped her round, the sombre hangings, the burning candles, the cabalistic figures filled her with awe and apprehension. She was a timid woman; nothing but that last and fiercest hunger of all, the hunger for love, could have driven her to this desperate step or brought her here. But she was here, it had brought her; and though fear blanched her cheek, and her limbs shook under her, and she dared not pray--for what was this she was doing?--she did not repent, or wish the step untaken, or go back on her desire.