"I might make one useful to you."
"Labrie, a glass of water for the baron. How can the water which I drink daily comprise properties never suspected by me? As the fellow in the play talked prose all his life without knowing it, have I been practising magic for ten years without an idea of it?"
"I do not know about your lordship, but I do know about myself," was the other's grave reply.
Taking the glass from Labrie, who had displayed marvelous celerity, he looked at it steadily.
"What do you see in it, my dear guest?" the baron continued to mock. "I am dying with eagerness. Come, come! a windfall to me, another Red Castle to set me on my legs again."
"I see the advice here to prepare for a visit. A personage of high distinction is coming, self-invited, conducted by your son Philip, who is even now near us."
"My dear lord, my son is on military duty at Strasburg, and he will not be bringing guests at the risk of being punished as a deserter."
"He is none the less bringing a lady, a mighty dame—and, by the way, you had better keep that pretty Abigail of yours at a distance while she stays, as there is a close likeness between them."
"The promised lady guest bears a likeness to my servant Legay? What contradiction!"
"Why not? Once I bought a slave so like Cleopatra that the Romans talked of palming her off for the genuine queen in the triumph in their capital."