The wand of death seemed to have withered his
shrunk visage for ages under the dim shadow of the grave.
Rodolf, aware that he was not to be interrupted when the gift was upon
him, waited patiently the result of the seer's revelations. A
considerable time had elapsed when the cloud began to roll away. His
features gradually reassumed the attributes of life, as each separately
felt the returning animation. His eyes rested full on the cavalier.
"I have had a vision, Rodolf."
"To me is it not spoken?" inquired he.
"Yea, to thee!" The seer said this in a tone so hollow and energetic,
and with a look of such thrilling awe, that even Rodolf shuddered. He
seemed to feel his glance.
"Listen. The spirit warned me thus:--
"'The stranger that hither comes o'er the broad sea
Shall wed on the night of St Bartlemy.'"
"Nay, Master Kelly, thine art faileth this once, forsooth. To-night is
the saint's vigil, yet lurk I not in the beam of a woman's favour; and
ere another year I may be cured of the simples at my father's dwelling
in the old castle."
"The vision hath spoken, and it setteth not forth idle tales.
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