582 THE ROMANCE OF THE SELF. 



his singular countenance. He appeared a man little past the middle 

 period of life. His features might be termed faultless, and his ra- 

 ven locks, curled closely round his high and expansive forehead. His 

 eyes were intensely bright, and but for their snake-like expression, 

 and the ashy and almost cadaverous hue of his complexion, he would 

 have been eminently handsome. His dress, which fitted close to 

 his person, was of black velvet. Previous to speaking, he rose from 

 his seat as if to display his towering and majestic stature, and fold- 

 ing his arms over his bosom, he thus addressed his disconcerted 

 guest : " What would'st thou of me, that thus thou breakest m 

 upon my meditations?" " I come to ask thy aid/' said Hubert; 

 " I have long endeavoured to earn a subsistence by honest means, 



but finding all in vain, I am determined " " For the future to 



use dishonest ones," interrupted the magician. (e Why, as to that," 

 said the wood-cutter, " if the world lie not, I am not the only person 

 who prefers wealth and power, however obtained, to despised po- 

 verty, with all its honesty." " No prating, sirrah !" said the wizard 

 testily, for report said that he himself had in other days been ac- 

 quainted with want and wretchedness ; " I am not to be trifled with ; 

 what would'st thou with me, fellow?" "Briefly, then," replied 

 Hubert, " I am poor ; and having heard that by fulfilling certain 

 conditions, my poverty might be remedied, I am come here to do 

 your bidding." " Know'st thou the terms on which thou can'st 

 become rich ?" said the magician. " In part," said Hubert, " but be 

 they what they may, I will consent to what thou requirest." 

 " Enough," said the magician, and a smile of bitter derision played 

 over his features. He took from his desk the skeleton of a bond, 

 and filling up the blank spaces in a lawyer-like manner, he handed 

 it to the wood-cutter for his signature. As our hero all chief per- 

 sonages of tales are heroes, be they princes or peasants, warriors or 

 highwaymen as our hero, therefore, was unacquainted with the 

 profitless art of writing, he was about to u make its customary sub- 

 stitute, a sign of the cross, when his hand was suddenly arrested 

 in its progress by the wizard. " Hold !" cried he, in an alarmed 

 and quick voice, " give me some other token of approval, some other 

 mark of thy consent make not that hated sign, or here our treaty 

 ends." The wood-cutter having made a mark of less obnoxious 

 character, the magician proceeded to business. He opened a closet, 

 and brought forth a number of nameless ingredients, and casting 

 them into a cauldron, under which a fire was previously burning, he 

 began to stir them with a stick or wand. A mist rose 'slowly from 

 the cauldron. The magician paused in his employment, and the 

 mist instantly dispersed. " Approach," said he, in a low voice, and 

 the wood-cutter obeyed. " Bare thine arm now let the blood flow 

 into the cauldron," and, as he spoke, with a sharp instrument he 

 dexterously opened a vein. The wood-cutter did as required. The 

 magician resumed his occupation. Again the mist rose slowly from 

 the cauldron. By degrees it gained an appearance somewhat re- 

 sembling a human being; the ingredients were stirred with re- 

 doubled vigour. " 'Tis done !" shouted the wizard. The mist 

 vanished, the blood ceased to flow from the arm of the wood-cutter, 



