"And never will exist again!" added Messenius, with confidence. "Oh! who will restore me my freedom—freedom that I may behold my work and triumph over my enemies. Hear me, Lord, I stretch out my hands before Thy face. Save me from misery, for Thou hast said: 'I will prostrate thine enemies, to be trampled under thy feet.' Who will give me freedom—freedom and ten years of life to witness the fruits of my labour?"
"I," answered a muffled voice at the lower end of the room.
At the sound of this voice both Messenius and his wife looked around with superstitious terror. The loneliness of the prison, and the associations of this wild country, which in all ages has been the fruitful soil of superstition, had in both increased the belief in superhuman things to a perfect conviction. More than once had Messenius' brooding spirit been on the point of plunging into the enticing labyrinth of the Kabala and practical Magic; but his zealous labours and his wife's religious exhortations had held him back. Now came an unexpected answer to his question ... from Heaven or the abyss, no matter which, but an answer, nevertheless—a straw for his drowning hopes.
The short winter day had drawn to a close, and twilight already spread its shadows over that part of the room which lay nearest the door. From this obscurity advanced a man, in whose sallow features one recognised the same person who two hours before had gained an entrance to the castle, under the name of Albertus Simonis. He had probably, in his capacity of physician, obtained permission to see the prisoner, for the whole medical faculty of the castle consisted of a barber, who practised chirurgery, and an old soldier's widow, whose skill in curing internal diseases was highly commended, especially when it was assisted by luvut, or incantations, which, although forbidden by the Church, were still used in the vapour-baths as powerful magical aids.
"Pax vobiscum!" said the stranger with a certain solemnity, and coming nearer the window.
"May the Lord be with you also!" answered Messenius, in the same tone, and with curiosity mingled with inquietude.
"May the woman's tongue be far from the consultation!" continued the stranger also in Latin.
Lucia, in whose youth the daughters of learned men knew Latin better than those of the nineteenth century read French, did not wait for a further reminder, and left the room with an inquisitive glance at the mysterious stranger.
Messenius made a sign to his visitor to take a seat near him. The whole conversation was conducted in Latin.
"Receive my greeting, great man, whom misfortune has only been able to elevate!" began the stranger, with artful discrimination attacking Messenius' weakest point.