But Madame, without taking the smallest notice of him, proceeded.
“Will the scorpion be round her on her birthday?”
“Close round her, my love—with the serpent. They work together.”
“Together, do they? You know what effect they’ll have on her, don’t you, Jupiter?”
“I should rather think so, my darling,” replied Mr. Sagittarius, with an air of profound and sinister information.
The Prophet’s blood ran cold in his veins. Yet he felt for the moment unable to utter a syllable, or even to make a gesture of protest. So entirely detached from him did the worthy couple appear to be, so completely wrapped up in their own evidently well-considered and carefully-laid plans, that he had a sense of being in another sphere, not theirs, of hearing their remarks from some distance off. Madame Sagittarius now turned towards him in a formal manner, and continued.
“And now, Mr. Vivian, I shall have to lay down the procedure that you will follow. Have you a good memory—no, a pencil and notebook will be best. Litterae scriptus manetur, as we all know full well. Have you a pencil and—?”
The Prophet nodded mechanically.
“Will you kindly get them?”
The Prophet rose, walked to his writing table and felt for the implements.