"Yes!" exclaimed Gilardoni, his face radiant. "I inquired mentally if you should go, and the table has answered 'yes.' Now you yourself must ask aloud."
Five or six minutes passed before the table began to move. In answer to Luisa's question: "Shall I go?" there came first thirteen, then fourteen knocks. The answer was "no."
The professor turned pale, and Luisa questioned him with her eyes. He was silent for some time, and then said with a sigh:
"Perhaps it was not Maria. Perhaps it was a lying spirit."
"And how can we find out?" Luisa inquired anxiously.
"We cannot find out. It is impossible."
"Then how about the other communications? Is there never any certainty?"
"Never."
She lapsed into terrified silence. Then presently she murmured: "It was bound to end thus. This also was to be taken from me."
She rested her forehead upon the table. The candle light fell upon her hair, upon her arms and hands. She was motionless, nothing moved in the room save the little flickering flame of the candle. Another little flame, the last light of hope and of comfort, was dying out in this poor head which had gone down before the onslaught of a bitter and invincible doubt. What could Gilardoni do or say? He saw that Ester's wish would soon be gratified, but not by his means. Three or four minutes later they heard Ester's voice, and steps on the floor below. Luisa rose slowly.