"Why do you wish this valueless thing? Is it that you are my well-wisher? Do you love me?"
"I hate you, as I hate all Christians; but I have need, for an incantation, of an object which has belonged to a virgin."
As Esther hesitated, the gypsy snatched the filmy tissue from her hand and fled, vanishing round an angle in the wall like an apparition.
Considerably disturbed in mind, Esther remained some time motionless upon the spot where the gypsy had left her. It seemed to her that the strange creature had exhaled a sort of torpor which she could not shake off. At last she closed the gate and stepped back. As she did so she noticed a bit of folded paper lying at her feet and picked it up. Unfolding it, she read these lines:—
"You love me. I feel it, know it. Have confidence in my love and honor. I long to tear you from the slavery in which you live to dwell with me in brightness and joy. Go to the Pantheon on Friday next wearing a brown domino with blue rosettes, and when you hear behind you these words, 'The moon is risen,' directly leave the person who will accompany you and follow the one who will take your hand. Ir order to assure me that you consent, send me some article which you have worn. I cannot be mistaken in the scent of vervain, which you love. While inhaling it, it will seem as though I inhaled your breath, as though I held my Esther in my arms."
No address, no signature. But the origin of the missive was no more doubtful than its destination.
"How stupid have I been!" exclaimed the girl. "Of what a farce have I been the dupe! Here I fancied that I was dealing with a sorceress, and she turns out to be a common go-between! It was she who dropped this letter at my feet. Out of doubt she knew its contents. That is why she snatched my handkerchief, for which she will be well paid;—and all the while I was wondering at her disinterestedness!"
With a twinge of vexation she thought that even at that moment Lord Mowbray probably believed that he held the pledge of his victory.
"Bah!" she mentally ejaculated; "what matters it? His triumph will be short-lived, since I will not go to the masquerade on Friday; though I could go if I wished. Lady Vereker and my theatre companions have wished to take me there. Reuben has had only one word to say upon the abominations of the Pantheon, and my aunt, who is afraid of him, has been only too ready to refuse her permission. But there is nothing to fear!"
Just a shade of disappointment and annoyance dimmed this reassuring thought, but an unexpected incident altered the face of the matter. Reuben was absent at tea-time. He had scarcely been visible for several days; he appeared to be wholly absorbed in projects of import, of which he disclosed no hint to any one.