She stretched out a hand white as alabaster to take the parchment whereon the astrologer had marked the rise and fall of the star records. But, as if seized with a sudden fear, she withdrew the hand ere the man of the stars could comply with her request.
"The second horoscope!" she spoke imperiously.
Again a long fit of coughing prevented the astrologer from speaking.
When it subsided, he said with profound solemnity, watching her expression intently from between his half-closed lids:
"That other, whose nativity you have sent to me, shall find death,—death, sudden and shameful—"
She stood rigid as a statue.
"Tell me more!" she gasped. "Tell me more!"
"He will die hated,—unlamented,—despised—"
She drew a deep breath.
"When shall that be?"