"My lord's fear will stand sponsor to the one, and his conscience to the
other, of these prognostications," replied Varney. "Sure never man chose
to run such a race as his, yet continued to retain those silly scruples!
I am fain to cheat him to his own profit. But touching your matters,
sage interpreter of the stars, I can tell you more of your own fortune
than plan or figure can show. You must be gone from hence forthwith."
"I will not," said Alasco peevishly. "I have been too much hurried
up and down of late--immured for day and night in a desolate
turret-chamber. I must enjoy my liberty, and pursue my studies, which
are of more import than the fate of fifty statesmen and favourites that
rise and burst like bubbles in the atmosphere of a court."
"At your pleasure," said Varney, with a sneer that habit had rendered
familiar to his features, and which forms the principal characteristic
which painters have assigned to that of Satan--"at your pleasure," he
said; "you may enjoy your liberty and your studies until the daggers
of Sussex's followers are clashing within your doublet and against your
ribs." The old man turned pale, and Varney proceeded. "Wot you not he
hath offered a reward for the arch-quack and poison-vender, Demetrius,
who sold certain precious spices to his lordship's cook? What! turn you
pale, old friend? Does Hali already see an infortune in the House of
Life? Why, hark thee, we will have thee down to an old house of mine
in the country, where thou shalt live with a hobnailed slave, whom thy
alchemy may convert into ducats, for to such conversion alone is thy art
serviceable."
"It is false, thou foul-mouthed railer," said Alasco, shaking with
impotent anger; "it is well known that I have approached more nearly
to projection than any hermetic artist who now lives. There are not six
chemists in the world who possess so near an approximation to the grand
arcanum--"
"Come, come," said Varney, interrupting him, "what means this, in the
name of Heaven? Do we not know one another? I believe thee to be so
perfect--so very perfect--in the mystery of cheating, that, having
imposed upon all mankind, thou hast at length in some measure imposed
upon thyself, and without ceasing to dupe others, hast become a species
of dupe to thine own imagination. Blush not for it, man--thou art
learned, and shalt have classical comfort: 'Ne quisquam Ajacem possit superare nisi Ajax.' No one but thyself could have gulled thee; and thou hast gulled the
whole brotherhood of the Rosy Cross besides--none so deep in the mystery
as thou. But hark thee in thine ear: had the seasoning which spiced
Sussex's broth wrought more surely, I would have thought better of the
chemical science thou dost boast so highly."