“This,” said Rudenfranck, closing the box, “is the magic pentagon, the key to the treasures of King Bructorix.”
“Heavens!” cried Adolf, “you received, then, this most fatal gift?”
“I did; and took upon myself an awful penalty. I said, ‘Ambition! thou shalt be my God, for love is lost to me!’ I came on to this country immediately after the execution of the count, and have discovered the treasure. Reasons, unimportant for you to know, have detained me here some years, disguised as the hunter Rudenfranck. This is the point, then. You cannot obtain Barbara Mullerhorn without gold; nor dare I, if I could, bestow this treasure upon you. You must follow my example, and call upon the spirit of Bructorix yourself. I will instruct you in the manner, but you must undertake the adventure.”
“And the penalty you spoke of,” said Adolf, trembling, as the hot eyes of Rudenfranck glared upon him.
“I cannot tell you. The spirit proposes different sacrifices. Mine is—”
A loud gust of wind interrupted the speaker, and Adolf shuddered, as he fancied he could distinguish the flapping of pinions through the blast.
“Ha!” said Rudenfranck, breathing hard, and speaking low,—“I had forgot!—I had forgot!”
“Is this thy plan?” said Adolf, “I fear me it is unhallowed. I will begone and pray to be delivered from the evil one. Rudenfranck, I will not accept of such assistance.”
“Thy life upon it,” said the hunter, “if thou betrayest me.”
“I have given my hand to secresy, and yet—”