“Thou mayst take them in thine hand,” said the philosopher, after a pause; “they will not harm thee.”
With some timidity the wondering queen received the metallic drops, almost fearing that her brother was a necromancer as the priests affirmed.
“Canst judge if it be a metal?” said Alphonso, enjoying her confusion.
“My sight and touch assure me of the fact. Yet whence—”
“Is it not a miracle,” interrupted the philosopher, laughing, “more real than thy fancied transubstantiation?”
A frown gathered on the serene brow of the lovely queen—but commiserating his impiety as sincerely as he pitied her ignorance, with forced gayety she replied, “Nay, heaven works not miracles by the hands of such unbelievers as thou. I fear me lest evil spirits have aided thee, as they did the Egyptians with their enchantments;” and she handed the globules to the philosopher.
“Keep them safely until the morrow,” said he, “they may form the basis of another experiment.”
As the Queen of England left the prison, Procida followed her and craved an audience.
CHAPTER XI.
THE JEWESS.