“Truce with that invention, whatever it be; think of it no more,—it has served its end in the explosion, which proved thy power of mischief. High objects are now before thee. Wilt thou be of my household, one of my alchemists and astrologers? Thou shalt have leisure, honour, and all the moneys thou canst need.”
“Moneys!” said Adam, eagerly, and casting his eyes upon the mangled model. “Well, I agree; what you will,—alchemist, astrologist, wizard,—what you will. This shall all be repaired,—all; I begin to see now, all! I begin to see; yes, if a pipe by which the too-excessive vapour could—ay, ay!—right, right,” and he rubbed his hands.
Jacquetta was struck with his enthusiasm. “But surely, Master Warner, this has some virtue you have not vouchsafed to explain; confide in me, can it change iron to gold?”
“No; but—”
“Can it predict the future?”
“No; but—”
“Can it prolong life?”
“No; but—”
“Then, in God’s name let us waste no more time about it!” said the duchess, impatiently,—“your art is mine now. Ho, there!—I will send my page to conduct thee to thy apartments, and thou shalt lodge next to Friar Bungey, a man of wondrous lere, Master Warner, and a worthy confrere in thy researches. Hast thou any one of kith and kin at home to whom thou wilt announce thy advancement?”
“Ah, lady! Heaven forgive me, I have a daughter,—an only child,—my Sibyll; I cannot leave her alone, and—”