He rose. “For that,” he said, “you must be here alone. Your friend may wait in the ante-chamber.”
“You hear, Minna?”
“No, no; it is not right. I will not leave you. Surely you have heard enough.”
“No; I mean to see what this mirror has to show. What,” laughing, “did we come for but to know the future?”
The dark eyes out of the shadow were watching the two girls furtively, but their owner spoke no word of persuasion. Doubtless his knowledge of human nature told him that curiosity would prevail unaided. And so it was. The companion was forced reluctantly to leave them, and when the two were alone the fortune-teller quietly slipped round and, under pretence of seeing that the door was securely shut, slipped home its bolt.
“Remove your hood,” he said facing the girl.
“It is unnecessary,” she replied. “I came to see, not to be seen.”
“Precisely,” the professor returned with a sarcastic grin. “And you thought to trifle with our sublime art. You judge so meanly of it as to fancy that we whose knowledge passes human comprehension are ignorant of the very identity of those who consult us. You pay us a poor compliment, Princess.”
For a few moments there was silence as she stood, half-fascinated, watching his glittering eyes. The light was on his face now bringing out its Jewish cast, the lines of greed and cunning. If the face disquieted her, she did not show it, she was too proud, too completely mistress of herself for that. Simply, with a slight inclination of the head she accepted his protest, giving no sign of discomfiture at the word which proclaimed her identity, merely saying, as though she were speaking to a servant—
“Will you let me see what the mirror has to show?”