“Sir,” replied I, “I thank you, but ask your pardon if I know not what you mean by the Promised Land.”
“Ha! and yet I supposed you not utterly unversed in Holy Writ!”
But a sudden anger for the man came upon me as I recalled my brother’s death, and I said passionately:
“But what hath Holy Writ, forsooth, to do with an island in the South Sea, and a horde of cut-throat pirates?”
I was mad to have said it! A spasm crossed the face of Doctor Copicus, and left it terrible. His hands shook. He was silent, and the silence was to me as the gathering of doom.
“Durst—durst insult me!” cried he at last, hissing out the words, “Durst insult my disciples and my work? Durst outbrave me, ye viper? I’ll cure you! Ha!”
He took a step towards the door; but a sudden faintness came over him. He staggered, and had fallen; but I sprang forward and bore him up, supporting him to the settee. He lay there heavily and still.
The countenance of the Doctor looked very old and haggard then, and white as the venerable locks that fell straggling upon his lofty forehead. His eyes were dim; his breathing came in gasps. Verily I thought his hour was come. But, while I stood wondering how the death of the man would work on my fortunes, a change came over him. He fetched a deep breath, and his brows drew together. He made, as I could see, a mighty effort of his will. He collected his powers. He rose up from the settee, standing firmly upon his feet!
It was masterful; it was magnificent. The man, who, but a moment past, had been, as it should seem, upon the threshold of death, did now stand up with the vigour of an iron strength! But his anger was passed, and he said even gently as he turned to me:
“Lad, why do you vex me, courting death, and worse than death? My intents towards you are fair, and fairer than you could possibly imagine. Hearken! I would give you riches, and fame, and knowledge—the knowledge that lieth at the door of life!”