And again he started his incantation.
"Down on your knees!" he exclaimed at length with terrible voice. "The spirit is at hand."
There was a rushing sound and a stream of white, dazzling light shot down upon the corpse, which emitted a hollow groan. In obedience to Dom Sabbat's demand Crescentius had prostrated himself on the ground, but he kept his gaze steadily fixed on the body, which, to his infinite amazement, slowly arose until it stood erect upon the frame. There it remained perfectly motionless, with the arms close to the sides and the habiliments torn and dishevelled. The blue light still retained its position upon the brow and communicated a horrible glimmer to the features. The spectacle was so dreadful, that Crescentius would have averted his eyes, but he was unable to do so. The conjurer and his familiar meanwhile continued their invocations, until, as it seemed to the Senator, the lips of the corpse moved and a voice of despair exclaimed: "Why have you called me?"
"To question you about the future!" replied Dom Sabbat rising.
"Speak and I will answer," replied the corpse.
"Ask her,—but be brief;—her time is short," said Dom Sabbat, addressing the Senator. "Only as long as that flame burns, have I power over her!"
"What is her name?" questioned the Senator.
"Marozia!"
The Senator's hand went to his forehead; he tottered and almost fell. But he caught himself.
"Spirit of Marozia," he cried, "if indeed thou standest before me, and some demon has not entered thy frame to delude me,—by all that is holy, and by every blessed saint do I adjure thee to tell me, whether the scheme, on which I am now engaged for the glory of Rome, will prosper?"