M. de Vidoche found his voice at last "My wife!" he whispered.
The astrologer's shoulders went up to his ears. He spread out his hands. He nodded--once, twice. "Mais oui, Madame!" he said.
"Here?--now?" M. de Vidoche stammered, his eyes wide with astonishment.
"She is in the chamber of the astrolabe."
"Mon Dieu!" the husband exclaimed. "Mon Dieu!" And then for a moment he shook, as if someone were passing over his grave. His face was pale. There was dread mingled with his surprise. "I do not understand," he muttered at last. "What does it mean? What is she doing here?"
"She has come for a love-philtre," M. Nôtredame answered, with a sphinx-like smile.
"For whom?"
"For you."
The husband drew a deep breath. "For me?" he exclaimed. "Impossible!"
"Possible," the man in black answered quietly; "and true."