‘A few more words with thee, fellow,’ said the Chevalier, pointing the way to one of the rooms opening out of the hall. ‘As master of the house I must be convinced of his honesty,’ he added. ‘If I am satisfied, then who will may seek to hear their fortune.’
Chevalier, man and boy disappeared, and Philip was the first to exclaim, ‘A strange fellow! What will he tell us? Madame, shall you hear him?’
‘That depends on my father’s report,’ she said. ‘And yet,’ sadly and pensively, ‘my future is dark and void enough. Why should I vex myself with hearing it?’
‘Nay, it may brighten,’ said Philip.
‘Scarcely, while hearts are hard,’ she murmured with a slight shake of the head, that Philip thought indescribably touching; but Berenger was gathering his purchases together, and did not see. ‘And you, brother,’ said Philip, ‘you mean to prove him?’
‘No,’ said Berenger. ‘Have you forgotten, Phil, the anger we met with, when we dealt with the gipsy at Hurst Fair?’
‘Pshaw, Berry, we are past flogging now.’
‘Out of reach, Phil, of the rod, but scarce of the teaching it struck into us.’
‘What?’ said Philip, sulkily.
‘That divining is either cozening manor forsaking God, Phil. Either it is falsehood, or it is a lying wonder of the devil.’