s the price of this glorious boon?" asked the old man,
trembling with mingled joy and terror through every limb.

"There are two conditions," answered the stranger, in a low, mysterious
tone. "The first is, that you become the companion of my wanderings for
one year and a half from the present time, until the hour of sunset, on
the 30th of July, 1517, when we must part forever, you to go
whithersoever your inclinations may guide you, and I---- But of _that_,
no matter!" he added, hastily, with a sudden motion as if of deep mental
agony, and with wildly flashing eyes.

The old man shrank back in dismay from his mysterious guest: the thunder
rolled again, the rude gust swept fiercely by, the dark forest rustled
awfully, and the stranger's torturing feelings were evidently prolonged
by the voices of the storm.

A pause ensued; and the silence was at length broken by the old man, who
said, in a hollow and tremulous tone, "To the first condition I would
willingly accede. But the second?"

"That you prey upon the human race, whom I hate; because of all the
world I alone am so deeply, so terribly accurst!" was the ominously
fearful yet only dimly significant reply.

The old man shook his head, scarcely comprehending the words of his
guest, and yet daring not to ask to be more enlightened.

"Listen!" said the stranger, in a hasty but impressive voice: "I require
a companion, one who has no human ties, and who still ministers to my
caprices,--who will devote himself wholly and solely to watch me in my
dark hours, and endeavor to recall me back to enjoyment and pleasure,
who, when he shall be acquainted with my power, will devise new means in
which to exercise it, for the purpose of conjuring up those scenes of
enchantment and delight that may for a season win me away from thought.
Such a companion do I need for a period of one year and a half; and you
are, of all men, the best suited to my design. But the Spirit whom I
must invoke to effect the promised change in thee, and by whose aid you
can be given back to youth and comeliness, will demand some fearful
sacrifice at your hands. And the nature of that sacrifice--the nature of
the condition to be imposed--I can well divine!"

"Name the sacrifice--name the condition!" cried the old man, eagerly. "I
am so miserable--so spirit-broken--so totally without hope in this
world, that I greedily long to enter upon that new existence which you
promised me! Say, then, what is the co