The next instant, the attendant entered with a man dressed in a very peculiar manner. He was small, mean-looking, aged, and miserably thin, with a beard as white as snow, but eyebrows as black as ink. All the features were pinched and attenuated, and the shriveled skin pale and cadaverous; but the face was lighted up by a pair of quick, sharp, intensely black eyes, that ran like lightning over every object, and seemed to gain intelligence from all they saw. He wore a black gown, open in front, but tied round the middle by a silver cord. His feet were bare and sandaled, and on his head he had a wide black cap, from the right side of which fell a sort of scarf crossing the right shoulder, and passing under the girdle on the left hip. A small dagger in a silver sheath, a triangle, and a circle of the same metal, and an instrument consisting of a tube with a glass at either end--the germ of the future telescope--hung in loops from his belt, and with a large wallet, or escarcelle, completed his equipment.
On entering the room, the astrologer saluted no one, and moved not his bonnet from his head, but advanced calmly into the midst of the little circle with an air which gave dignity even to his small and insignificant figure, and, looking round from face to face, said, in a sweet but very piercing voice, "Here I am. What do you want with me?"
There was very little reverence in his tone, and Jean Charost's companion of the way replied, with an air of some haughtiness, "Sir wise man, you do not know us, or you would wait to hear our pleasure. You shall learn what we want with you very speedily, however."
"Pardon, your highness," replied the astrologer; "I know you all. But your men might show more reverence to science, and not drag me, like a culprit, from my studies, even at the command of John, duke of Burgundy."
"Ah! the fools have been prating," said the duke, with a laugh; but the astrologer answered quickly, "The stars have been prating, your highness, though your men have held their peace. Before you set foot in this town, I knew and told many persons that you would be here this day; that you would meet with an accident by the way, and be saved from it by the servant of an enemy. Ask, and satisfy yourself. There are people in this very house who heard me."
"The servant of an enemy!" repeated the Duke of Burgundy, thoughtfully, and rolling his eyes with a sort of suspicious glance toward Jean Charost. "The servant of an enemy! But never mind that; we have eaten salt together."
"I said not an enemy, but the servant of an enemy," rejoined the astrologer. "You and he best know whether I am right or not."
"I think not," replied Jean Charost. "The Duke of Orleans has given his hand to his highness of Burgundy, and he is not a man to play false with any one."
"Well spoken, good youth," answered the duke. "I believe you from my heart;" but still there was a frown upon his brow, and, as if to conceal what he felt, he turned again to the astrologer, bidding him commence his prediction.
"My lord the duke," replied the astrologer, "the hour and moment of your nativity are well known to me; but it is very useless repeating to you what others have told you before. Some little variation I might make by more or less accurate observation of the stars; but the variation could but be small, and why should I repeat to you unpleasant truths. You will triumph over most of your enemies and over many of your friends. You will be the arbiter of the fortunes of France, and affect the fate of England. You will make a great name, rather than a good one; and you will die a bloody death."