The Midnight Queen [4]
out a very
withered and unlovely face.
"La Masque at home?" inquired Ormiston, stepping in, without
ceremony.
The old man nodded, and pointed up stairs; and with a "This way,
Kingsley," Ormiston sprang lightly up, three at a time, followed
in the same style by Sir Norman.
"You seem pretty well acquainted with the latitude and longitude
of this place," observed that young gentleman, as they passed
into a room at the head of the stairs.
"I ought to be; I've been here often enough," said Ormiston.
"This is the common waiting-room for all who wish to consult La
Masque. That old bag of bones who let us in has gone to announce
us."
Sir Norman took a seat, and glanced curiously round the room. It
was a common-place apartment enough, with a floor of polished
black oak, slippery as ice, and shining like glass; a few old
Flemish paintings on the walls; a large, round table in the
centre of the floor, on which lay a pair of the old musical
instruments called "virginals." Two large, curtainless windows,
with minute diamond-shaped panes, set in leaden casements,
admitted the golden and crimson light.
"For the reception-room of a sorceress," remarked Sir Norman,
with an air of disappointed criticism, "there is nothing very
wonderful about all this. How is it she spaes fortunes any way?
As Lilly does by maps and charts; or as these old Eastern mufti
do it by magic mirrors and all each fooleries?"
"Neither," said Ormiston, "her style in more like that of the
Indian almechs, who show you your destiny in a well. She has a
sort of magic lake in her room, and - but you will see it all for
yourself presently."
"I have always heard," said Sir Norman, in the same meditative
way, "that truth lies at the bottom of a well, and I am glad some
one has turned up at last who is able to fish it out. Ah! Here
comes our ancient Mercury to show us to the presence of your
goddess."
The door opened, and the "old bag of bones," as Ormiston
irreverently styled his lady-love's ancient domestic, made a sign
for them to follow him. Leading the way down along a corridor,
he flung open a pair of shining folding-doors at the end, and
ushered them at once into the majestic presence of the sorceress
and her magic room. Both gentlemen doffed their plumed hats.
Ormiston stepped forward at once; but Sir Norman discreetly
paused in the doorway to contemplate the scene of action. As he
slowly did so, a look of deep displeasure settled on his
features, on finding it not half so awful as he had supposed.
In some ways it was very like the room they had left, being low,
large, and square, and having floors, walls and ceiling paneled
with glossy black oak. But it had no windows - a large bronze
lamp, suspended from the centre of the ceiling, shed a
flickering, ghostly light. There were no paintings - some grim
carvings of skulls, skeletons, and serpents, pleasantly wreathed
the room - neither were there seats nor tables - nothing but a
huge ebony caldron at the upper end of the apartment, over which
a grinning skeleton on wires, with a scythe in one hand of bone,
and an hour-glass in the other, kept watch and ward. Opposite
this cheerful-looking guardian, was a tall figure in black,
standing an motionless as if it, too, was carved in ebony. It
was a female figure, very tall and slight, but as beautifully
symmetrical as a Venus Celestis. Her dress was of black velvet,
that swept the polished floor, spangled all over with stars of
gold and rich rubies. A profusion of shining black hair fell in
waves and curls almost to her feet; but her face, from forehead
to chin, was completely hidden by a black velvet mask. In one
hand, exquisitely small and white, she held a gold casket,
blazing (like her dress) with rubies, and with the other she
toyed with a tame viper, that had twined itself round her wrist.
This was doubtless La Masque,
withered and unlovely face.
"La Masque at home?" inquired Ormiston, stepping in, without
ceremony.
The old man nodded, and pointed up stairs; and with a "This way,
Kingsley," Ormiston sprang lightly up, three at a time, followed
in the same style by Sir Norman.
"You seem pretty well acquainted with the latitude and longitude
of this place," observed that young gentleman, as they passed
into a room at the head of the stairs.
"I ought to be; I've been here often enough," said Ormiston.
"This is the common waiting-room for all who wish to consult La
Masque. That old bag of bones who let us in has gone to announce
us."
Sir Norman took a seat, and glanced curiously round the room. It
was a common-place apartment enough, with a floor of polished
black oak, slippery as ice, and shining like glass; a few old
Flemish paintings on the walls; a large, round table in the
centre of the floor, on which lay a pair of the old musical
instruments called "virginals." Two large, curtainless windows,
with minute diamond-shaped panes, set in leaden casements,
admitted the golden and crimson light.
"For the reception-room of a sorceress," remarked Sir Norman,
with an air of disappointed criticism, "there is nothing very
wonderful about all this. How is it she spaes fortunes any way?
As Lilly does by maps and charts; or as these old Eastern mufti
do it by magic mirrors and all each fooleries?"
"Neither," said Ormiston, "her style in more like that of the
Indian almechs, who show you your destiny in a well. She has a
sort of magic lake in her room, and - but you will see it all for
yourself presently."
"I have always heard," said Sir Norman, in the same meditative
way, "that truth lies at the bottom of a well, and I am glad some
one has turned up at last who is able to fish it out. Ah! Here
comes our ancient Mercury to show us to the presence of your
goddess."
The door opened, and the "old bag of bones," as Ormiston
irreverently styled his lady-love's ancient domestic, made a sign
for them to follow him. Leading the way down along a corridor,
he flung open a pair of shining folding-doors at the end, and
ushered them at once into the majestic presence of the sorceress
and her magic room. Both gentlemen doffed their plumed hats.
Ormiston stepped forward at once; but Sir Norman discreetly
paused in the doorway to contemplate the scene of action. As he
slowly did so, a look of deep displeasure settled on his
features, on finding it not half so awful as he had supposed.
In some ways it was very like the room they had left, being low,
large, and square, and having floors, walls and ceiling paneled
with glossy black oak. But it had no windows - a large bronze
lamp, suspended from the centre of the ceiling, shed a
flickering, ghostly light. There were no paintings - some grim
carvings of skulls, skeletons, and serpents, pleasantly wreathed
the room - neither were there seats nor tables - nothing but a
huge ebony caldron at the upper end of the apartment, over which
a grinning skeleton on wires, with a scythe in one hand of bone,
and an hour-glass in the other, kept watch and ward. Opposite
this cheerful-looking guardian, was a tall figure in black,
standing an motionless as if it, too, was carved in ebony. It
was a female figure, very tall and slight, but as beautifully
symmetrical as a Venus Celestis. Her dress was of black velvet,
that swept the polished floor, spangled all over with stars of
gold and rich rubies. A profusion of shining black hair fell in
waves and curls almost to her feet; but her face, from forehead
to chin, was completely hidden by a black velvet mask. In one
hand, exquisitely small and white, she held a gold casket,
blazing (like her dress) with rubies, and with the other she
toyed with a tame viper, that had twined itself round her wrist.
This was doubtless La Masque,