With strange and frantic gestures the merchant then sang:
“And the phantom said to the mocking seer,
I come from the South;
Put thy hand on my hand—thy heart on my heart—
Thy mouth on my mouth!”
“What do you see?”
“He comes—he approaches—he pursues me—he is stretching out his arms—he will have me! Help! help! Save me!”
“Are you afraid, now?” asked the merchant in a mocking voice.
A piercing cry, and then a stifled groan, were the only reply to this terrible question.
“Help that rash youth!” said the merchant, bitterly. “I have, I think, won the wager; but it is sufficient for me to have given him a lesson. Let him keep his money and be wiser for the future.”