"What have I done?" cried the maiden sorrowfully; and he rejoiced to see that the look upon her face was as it had been when she had listened to the Necromancer's philosophies and faiths.
Then he turned and smiled, saying: "I love thee, Blanche," and he spoke in the juggler's speech, which made a glory on the maiden's hair, and about her gown of green. With outstretched hands she came toward him, and she laid her head upon his breast, smiling up at him.
"I was mad but now, Hugh," she breathed. "Our two souls be but one."
"Wilt come with me to the market-place this afternoon?" he asked.
"Nay," sighed the maiden. "I care not for the market-place, for I am happy here, where I have found my home."
"I speak there," he said bluffly, "at two P.M."
"Thou!" and the maiden's laughter rang out like the touch of silver bells, "and of what?"
"Of phases of occult thought," he answered gravely.
"Ay," cried Blanche, and she raised her face to kiss him. "Ay, Hugh, be sure that I shall be there when thou dost talk philosophies."
The young merchant was good as his word, and that afternoon he stood in the market-place upon a counter, rattling the juggler's bags as he waited. As before, men, women, and maidens came, by tens, by twenties, by hundreds, till there was no spot where he could look without meeting a pair of wistful eyes.