The doctor impatiently stamped his foot, but composed himself immediately, and said in his gentlest tone, “Only two seconds, your grace, I hear the horses now—they are here.”
In fact, at this moment a vehicle drove furiously into the court-yard. The snorting of fiery horses, and the voices of servants were heard. Several of the company hastened to the window, and Angelica moved toward it also.
“It is only my new Viennese chariot and Andalusian ponies,” said the doctor, humbly, but so loud, that every one could hear him. “Will you come and see my establishment? I am rather proud of my choice.”
“See,” growled an old gentleman, in a brilliant uniform, “who could see any thing in this Egyptian darkness.”
“I beg pardon,” said Joannes, gently; “I had forgotten that you are not accustomed to see in the dark. That is easily remedied.”
He snapped his fingers, and in a moment the whole court-yard was as light as day from the blaze of many hundred torches secured to the palace walls, and the equipage stood revealed in their brilliant glare. A unanimous and admiring exclamation burst from all present. But I cried scornfully, “That is nothing new, I have often seen it done by Professor Dohler—an electric machine and dry weather are all that is required.” No one listened to me. Every one broke out in praises of the magnificent equipage. Harnessed to it were four horses of wondrous beauty, of the true Andalusian breed. I was forced to confess that I had never seen any thing like them, and to hide my annoyance in admiration. And then the coach—an easier, more gorgeous or graceful thing of the kind could not well be imagined. It rested upon the springs like the shell of Venus upon the waves. It was worthy to contain the fairest of the fair. This seemed to strike the fair Angelica herself. She relinquished my arm for the doctor’s, and said, with a heavenly smile, “You are a happy man, doctor; I cannot imagine a more exquisite sensation, than the possession of such an equipage would create.”
“It is yours, adored one!” whispered Joannes tenderly, yet so loudly that he evidently intended I should hear. “The world has no treasure too great for the queen of all hearts.”
“O heavens! what generosity!” cried Angelica. She hastened from the doctor to her mother, to tell the joyful news.
I looked angrily out of the window, and saw how the doctor’s coachman performed the most wonderful manœuvres, in the confined court-yard, with his fiery steeds. “Witchcraft! a real devil’s trick!” said I to myself, as I stepped back into the saloon, and walked hastily up and down.
I was jealous, furiously jealous—and what wonder? Did not Italian blood course through my veins—was I not the Marquis della Mostarda, from Naples? Thoughts of daggers and aqua toffana coursed through my brain when I looked at Joannes. Two persons in serious conversation passed me, a stately gentleman and an elderly lady. “They may say what they choose, but all is not right with the German doctor. He practices the Black Art, and ought to be thankful that the Holy Inquisition no longer exists. He gives presents here which an emperor could hardly afford, while he inhabits a miserable room in the suburbs, attended by no one but a dirty black poodle, who brings him his meals every day from the restaurateur’s.”