The day came at last. And afar off, first only like so many black specks, but gradually revealing themselves as Conde Dirlos on his faithful steed, and a long file of heavily-laden mules, came the anxiously expected train. And now he never left his point of observation; but cursed the sluggish hours, as he watched the team now steering over the sandy plain, which seemed interminable in expanse, unmeasured by landmarks; now toiling backwards and forwards up the zig-zagged steep, with provoking seeming of being further off one hour than the last, as at each wind they turned upon their steps; now detached-liked spectres against the sky, as they crossed from one reach of the lofty sierra to the next.
All things have an end, even Turian’s anxious suspense; and as the count at last neared the magician’s cave, he descended at break-neck pace to meet him.
“There is the price,” said the count, in sad and solemn accents; “but before rendering it out of your hands, stop and consider it;” and as he spoke he removed from the treasure the brilliant red and yellow cloths, the royal colours of Spain, with which it was covered. “Here, from each province of your father’s dominions, is the due proportion of the tribute you have demanded. See—will you spend it so?”
The prince darted forward to glance at the goodly sight of so much gold, but drew back with horror.
What could he have seen to turn his flushed cheeks so deadly pale?
“Count!” he cried, choking with fury, “what have you brought to mock me? This is not coin. You have brought me tears, burning tears, instead of gold.”
“It is all the same,” replied the count; “I saw you were infatuated, and I brought the money in this form, that the sight might warn you of what you are doing, and by its sad horror arrest you. There is time to return it back into the bosom of those from whom it has been wrung, and no harm will have been done. But if you persist, you will find the magician will take them for current coin.”
“Quite so!” chimed in the voice from the cave; “it is the money I like best. But I cannot stand dallying thus: if the treasure be not handed over at once, the bargain is at an end, and you never hear of me again.”
It only wanted this to quench any little spark of pity and misgiving which the old count’s judicious stratagem might have awakened. So without further loss of time the prince called to the magician to come forth and take the spoil.
He was not slow to comply, and taking a handful of the weird currency out of each mule-load, rang it on the rock, where it sounded like the clanking of a captive’s chains.