"I know, sir; I know. My mind's clear enough, let me tell you. That very night (as I was about to say, if you'd had patience to hear me) Venus stepped in and parted the unfortunate pair----" "It was a apple just now, you aggravating old muddle 'ed!" said Leander, internally. "Venus informed the young man that he had betrothed himself to her by that ring" ("Same game exactly," thought the pupil), "and--and, in short, she led him such a life for some nights, that he could bear it no longer. So at length he repaired to a certain mighty magician called----Let me see, what was his name again? It wasn't Agrippa--was it Albertus? Odd; it has escaped me for the moment." "Never mind, sir; call him Jones." "I will _not_ call him Jones, sir! I had it on my tongue--there, _Palumbus_! Palumbus it was. Well, Palumbus told him the goddess would never cease to trouble him, unless he could get back the ring--unless he could get back the ring." Leander's heart began to beat high; the solution of his difficulty was at hand. It was something to know for certain that upon recovery of the ring the goddess's power would be at an end. It only remained to find out how the other young man managed it. "Yes, Mr. Freemoult?" he said interrogatively; for the old gentleman had run down again. "I was only thinking it out. To resume, then. No sooner had the magician (whose name as I said was Apollonius) come to the wedding, than he promptly conjectured the bride to be a serpent; whereupon she vanished incontinently, after the manner of serpents, with the house and furniture." "Haven't you missed out a lot, sir?" inquired Leander, deferentially; "because it don't seem to me to hook on quite. What became of Venus and the ring?" "How the dickens am I to tell you, if you will interrupt? Ring! _What_ ring? Why, yes; the magician gave the young man a certain letter, and told him to go to a particular cross-road outside the city, at dead of night, and wait for Saturn to pass by in procession, with his fallen associates. This he did, and presented the magician's letter; which Saturn, after having read, called Venus to him, who was riding in front, and commanded her to deliver up the ring." Here he stopped, as if he had nothing to add. "And did she, sir?" asked Leander, breathlessly. "Did she what? give up the ring? Of course she did. Haven't I been saying so? Why not?" "Well," observed Leander, "so that's how _he_ got out of it, was it? Hah! he was a lucky chap. Those were the days when magicians did a good trade, I suppose? Should you say there were any such parties now, on the quiet like, eh, sir?" "Bah! Magic is a lost art, degraded to dark seances and juvenile parties--the last magician dead for more than two hundred years. Don't expose your ignorance, sir, by any more such questions."