“It is Christianus Rosencrux, then,” he said to himself, “whom I have inquired for—whom I am to see—and who will dissolve the spell that has been placed upon me. But where shall I seek him? whither shall I go to find his secret abode?”
The duties of the barber were completed; and Wagner threw down a piece of gold, saying, “Keep that coin, friend, for your discourse has greatly interested me, and has indeed well deserved it.”
The poor old man had never possessed in all his life so much money at one time; and so vast was his joy that he could only mutter a few broken sentences to express his gratitude.
“I require not thanks, my good friend,” said Wagner. “But one word ere I depart. Knowest thou the spot which rumor indicates as the abode of that sect of whom we have been speaking?”
“Nay, excellent signor,” replied the barber; “there your question masters me; for in this case rumor goes not to such a length as to afford hints for an investigation which would prove its utter fallacy. All that I have heard, signor, concerning the Rosicrucians, you have learnt from my lips; and I know no more.”
Wagner, finding that further inquiry in that quarter was useless, took leave of the old man, and traversing the suburb, entered the town of Syracuse.
CHAPTER LIX.
Fernand was now at a loss how to act. He felt convinced that it was useless to institute any further inquiries relative to the whereabouts of the secret Order of the Rosy Cross; because, had popular rumor ever hinted at any clew in that respect, the garrulous and inquisitive barber would have been sure to hear of it. He was not, however, disheartened. No—very far from that; for he was confident that the same supernal power that had hitherto directed him, and which was rapidly clearing away all obstacles in his path toward perfect emancipation from the influence of the evil one, would carry him to a successful and triumphant issue. Throwing himself, therefore, entirely on the wisdom and mercy of Heaven, he roamed about the town of Syracuse, without any settled object in view, until he was much wearied and it was very late. He then entered a miserable hostel, or inn—the best, however, that he could discover; and there, having partaken of some refreshment, he retired to the chamber allotted to him. Sleep soon visited his eyes; but he had not long enjoyed the sweets of slumber, when that balmy repose was interrupted either by a touch or sound, he knew not which. Starting up in his couch, he perceived a tall figure, muffled in a huge dark mantle, and wearing a slouched broad-brimmed hat, standing by the side of the bed.
“Rise, Fernand Wagner,” said a mild but masculine voice, “and follow me. He whom thou seekest has sent me to lead thee to him.”
Wagner did not hesitate to obey this mandate, which he felt certain was connected with the important business that had borne him to Syracuse. His apparel was speedily assumed; and he said, “I am ready to follow thee, stranger, whoever thou art, and whithersoever thou mayst lead; for my faith is in Heaven.”