"The world is weary of skepticism," remarked Lethal; "there is no
chemistry for that. It is the true magic, doubtless,--recovered from
antiquity by his Highness. Are the wonders exhausted?"
The Duke smiled again. He stretched out his hand toward Honoria, and she
slept. It was the work of an instant.
"I have seen that before," said Dalton.
"Not as we see it," responded his Highness. "Reve de Noir, less light!"
The room was dark in a moment. Over the head of Honoria appeared a cloud,
at first black, and soon in this a nucleus of light, which expanded and
shaped itself into an image and took the form of the sleeper, nude and
spiritual, a belt of rosy mist enveloping and concealing all but a head
and bust of ravishing beauty. The vision gazed with languid and beseeching
eyes upon Dalton, and a sigh seemed to heave the bosom. In scarce a
breathing-time, it was gone. Honoria waked, unconscious of what had
passed.
Deep terror and amazement fell upon us all.
"I have seen enough," said Dalton, rising slowly, and drawing a small
riding-whip, "to know now that this person is no duke, but either a
charlatan or a devil. In either case, since he has intruded here, to
desecrate and degrade, I find it proper to apply a magic more material."
At the word, all rose exclaiming,--"For God's sake, Dalton!" He pressed
forward and laid his hand upon the Duke.
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