'But tell me—thou hearest the gossip of slaves, always prone to these dim beliefs; always ready to apply to sorcery for their own low loves—hast thou ever heard of any Eastern magician in this city, who possesses the art of which thou art ignorant? No vain chiromancer, no juggler of the market-place, but some more potent and mighty magician of India or of Egypt?'
'Of Egypt?—yes!' said Nydia, shuddering. 'What Pompeian has not heard of Arbaces?'
'Arbaces! true,' replied Julia, grasping at the recollection. 'They say he is a man above all the petty and false impostures of dull pretenders—that he is versed in the learning of the stars, and the secrets of the ancient Nox; why not in the mysteries of love?'
'If there be one magician living whose art is above that of others, it is that dread man,' answered Nydia; and she felt her talisman while she spoke.
'He is too wealthy to divine for money?' continued Julia, sneeringly. 'Can I not visit him?'
'It is an evil mansion for the young and the beautiful,' replied Nydia. 'I have heard, too, that he languishes in...'
'An evil mansion!' said Julia, catching only the first sentence. 'Why so?'
'The orgies of his midnight leisure are impure and polluted—at least, so says rumor.'
'By Ceres, by Pan, and by Cybele! thou dost but provoke my curiosity, instead of exciting my fears,' returned the wayward and pampered Pompeian. 'I will seek and question him of his lore. If to these orgies love be admitted—why the more likely that he knows its secrets!'
Nydia did not answer.