“How? Hast thou been a father?”
“Woe is me that I was not.”
“Art thou not happy, Lanoy?”
“God has judged.”
“Can I render thee any further service in this world?”
“None but to think of thyself.”
“How must I do that?”
“Thou wilt learn at Rome.”
The thunder again rolled; a black cloud of smoke filled the room; when it had dispersed the figure was no longer visible. I forced open one of the window shutters. It was daylight.
The sorcerer now recovered from his swoon. “Where are we?” asked he, seeing the daylight.