‘But, Berry, this man is not cheat.’
‘Then he is worse.’
‘Only, turn not away, brother. How should he have known things that even I know not?—the heather.’
‘No marvel in that,’ said Berenger. ‘This is the very man I bought Annora’s fan from; he was prowling round Montpipeau, and my heather was given to Veronique with little secrecy. And as to the royal deathbed, it was Rene, his master, who met me there.’
‘Then you think it mere cozeing? If so, we should find it out.’
‘I don’t reckon myself keener than an accomplished Italian mountebank,’ said Berenger, dryly.
Further conference was cut short by the return of the Chevalier, saying, in his paternal genial way, ‘Well, children, I have examined the fellow and his credentials, and for those who have enough youth and hope to care to have the future made known to them, bah! it is well.’
‘Is it sorcery, sir?’ asked Philip, anxiously.
The Chevalier shrugged his shoulders. ‘What know I?’ he said. ‘For those who have a fine nose for brimstone there may be, but he assures me it is but the white magic practiced in Egypt, and the boy is Christian!’
‘Did you try this secret, father?’ inquired Madame de Selinville.