"Ha, you may laugh, Ronald," said the astrologer, severely. "Fools
ever did mock the wise, like the rich despise the poor. You are but a
soldier, and I am a man of science--the great alchemyst! My name shall
live; yea, mark me, Ronald, it will be known and revered in time to
come, aye, even when this castle has crumbled into dust, and when the
name of Roger Bacon has been long forgotten."

"Well, Edmund," responded the knight, gaily, "let us hope so; only one
more substance, eh?"

"Only one," the enthusiast replied, while the look of triumph flashed
already from his eyes.

"And then we shall--shall what, Edmund, what shall we do?"

"Live for ages."

"For ever, in fact, I suppose?"

"My elixir will conquer disease, and man shall live until his feeble
frame has worn away," he responded grandly.

"Lucky man," soliloquised Sir Ronald, facetiously. "But the dames,
Edmund, you said naught of them. Cannot you discover aught for them?
Surely they may share the blessing also!"

"No more is wanted; my elixir will serve for both," majestically
responded Edmund, as he placed a cauldron over the fire. He was
too intensely in earnest himself to note that his companion was
sceptically making fun of him.