weird and
wizard-like preparations.

CHAPTER LXXXV.

On the ground a wide circle was traced by a small rod, tipped apparently
with sponge saturated with some combustible naphtha-like fluid, so that
a pale lambent flame followed the course of the rod as Margrave guided
it, burning up the herbage over which it played, and leaving a distinct
ring, like that which, in our lovely native fable-talk, we call the
"Fairy's Ring," but yet more visible because marked in phosphorescent
light. On the ring thus formed were placed twelve small lamps, fed with
the fluid from the same vessel, and lighted by the same rod. The light
emitted by the lamps was more vivid and brilliant than that which
circled round the ring.

Within the circumference, and immediately round the woodpile, Margrave
traced certain geometrical figures, in which--not without a shudder,
that I overcame at once by a strong effort of will in murmuring to
myself the name of "Lilian"--I recognized the interlaced triangles which
my own hand, in the spell enforced on a sleep-walker, had described on
the floor of the wizard's pavilion. The figures were traced, like the
circle, in flame, and at the point of each triangle (four in number) was
placed a lamp, brilliant as those on the ring. This task performed, the
caldron, based on an iron tripod, was placed on the wood-pile. And then
the woman, before inactive and unheeding, slowly advanced, knelt by the
pile, and lighted it. The dry wood crackled and the flame burst forth,
licking the rims of the caldron with tongues of fire.

Margrave flung into the caldron the particles we had collected, poured
over them first a liquid, colourless as water, from the largest of the
vessels drawn from his coffer, and then, more sparingly, drops from
small crystal phials, like the phials I had seen in the hand of Philip
Derval.

Having surmounted my first impulse of awe, I watched these proceedings,
curious yet disdainful, as one who watches the mummeries of an enchanter
on the stage.

"If," thought I, "these are but artful devices to inebriate and fool my
own imagination, my imagination is on its guard, and reason shall not,
this time, sleep at her post!"

"And now," said Margrave, "I consign to you the easy task by which
you are to merit your share of the elixir. It is my task to feed and
replenish the caldron; it is Ayesha's to heed the fire, which must not
for a moment relax in its measured and steady heat. Your task is th