"It is a bold doctrine," said the young knight, who, willing to gain what insight he could into his companion's character, pressed him for a still further exposition of his opinions, though at the same time he himself felt not a little carried away by the energy of manner and rich modulation of tone with which the old man communicated his singular ideas. "It is a bold doctrine, and would seem to animate the whole of nature. Could it be proved, the world would acquire a glow of life, and activity of existence, where it now appears cold and silent."
"The whole of nature is animated," replied Sir Cesar. "Life combined with matter is but a thousandth part of life existent. The world teems with spirits: the very air is thick with them. They dance in the sunshine, they ride upon the beams of the stars, they float about in the melodies of music, they nestle in the cups of the flowers; and I am forced to believe that never a flower fades, or a beam passes away, without some being mourning the brief date of loveliness on earth. Doubt not, for this is true; and though no one can prove that matter is sensitive, yet it can be proved that such spirits do exist, and that they may be compelled to clothe themselves with a visible form. It can be proved, I say, and I have proved it."
"I have heard the same reported of you," replied Sir Osborne, "when you, with the renowned Cornelius Agrippa, called up a spirit to ascertain what would be the issue of the battle of Ravenna. Was it not so?"
"Speak not of it!" cried the old man, "speak not of it! In that battle fell the bright, the gallant, the amiable Nemours. Though warned by counsel, by prophecy, and by portent, he would venture his life on that fatal battle, and fell. Speak not of it! But now to you and yours. Whither go you?"
"My first care," replied Sir Osborne, "must be to seek my father, at whose wish I have now returned to England. To you, who know far more of me and mine than I ever dreamed that mortal here had heard, I need not say where my father dwells." As he spoke, Sir Osborne drew up his horse, following the example of his companion, whose palfrey had stopped at a point where the road, separating into two branches, gave the traveller the option of proceeding either towards Canterbury or Dover, as his business or pleasure might impel. At the same time the young knight fixed his eye upon the other's face, as if to ascertain what was passing in his mind, seeking, probably, thence to learn how far the old man's knowledge really extended in respect to himself and his concerns.
"It is a long journey," said Sir Cesar, thoughtfully, "and 'twill take you near three weeks to travel thither and back. Much may be lost or won in three weeks. You must not go. Hie on to Dover, and thence to London: wait there till I give you farther news, and be sure that my news shall be of some avail."
"It cannot be," answered Sir Osborne Maurice. "Before I take any step whatever I must see my father; and though I doubt not that your advice be good, and your knowledge more than natural, I cannot quit my road, nor wait in any place, till I have done the journey to which duty and affection call me."
"Your own will then be your guide, though it be a bad one," answered Sir Cesar. "But mark, I tell you, if you pursue the road you are on you will meet with danger, and will lose opportunity. My words are not wont to fall idly."
"Whatever danger may occur," replied Sir Osborne, "my road lies towards London, and it shall not be easy to impede me on my way."
"Ho, ho! so headstrong!" cried the old knight. "I' God's name, then, on! My palfrey goes too slow for your young blood. Put spurs to your steed, sir, and get quick into the perils from which you will need my hand to help you out. Spur, spur, sir knight; and good speed attend you!"