“The fate I have predicted,” rejoined the fortune-teller dryly, “is scarcely one which a woman would fight against.”
“That may be,” the girl retorted, “but perhaps, Herr Professor, if your skill in divination were as great as is pretended you would hardly be surprised at my distaste for the fate you have predicted.”
The sharp eyes with their keen iridescence were fastened on her now in triumphant premeditation.
“My skill scarcely deserves your sneer, madame,” he replied with a repressing of his thoughts. “It may be greater than you imagine or than I claim. Dare you challenge me to put it to the proof? Will you—it is no light test—will you look into the magic mirror?”
“Why should I?” the girl asked half contemptuously.
“Merely that your scepticism may see how far it is warranted. The mirror may confirm my verbal forecast,” he gave a shrug, “or not. Only I warn you that what you shall see there may not be agreeable.”
The other girl who had so far sat intently silent rose and caught her companion’s arm. “No,” she urged in a frightened whisper, “do not look, I beg you. It may be terrible.”
“Worse than the royal marriage?” the other exclaimed with a scornful laugh. “I cannot stop half-way now. I have heard my fate, I must see its confirmation.”
“As you will,” said the fortune-teller quietly. “Only do not blame me should the result be displeasing.”
“Show me, Herr Professor.”