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He tried to start up, but failed, and it was only when the hall door bell, attacked by the Prophet, added its voice to its companion's that his terror lent him sufficient strength to flee very slowly into the inner fastnesses of this unknown region. There was a light in the servant's hall, but darkness lay beyond and Malkiel knew not whither he was penetrating.
On hearing this sudden gush of classical erudition the Prophet must have been seized by a paralysing awe, for he remained as if glued to the mat, and made no effort to open the door and step into the room. "If I am sanctified, Sophronia," said the voice of Malkiel, "I cannot help it, indeed I can't. We are as we are." "Did Bottom say so in his epics?" cried the contralto, contemptuously.
Words uttered by the moving guests, exclamations, and ejaculations of excitement now detached themselves from the general murmur. "The Prophet from the Mouse!" "The great Malkiel here!" "The founder of the almanac!" "The greatest Prophet of the age!" "Malkiel the Second from the Mouse!" "Where is Malkiel?" "We must find Malkiel!" "We must see Malkiel!" "Is it really Malkiel?"
Malkiel the Second, feeling frantically about in the dark, came upon the door of this cupboard, pulled it, found that it yielded to his hand, and, hearing the rapidly approaching voices of Madame and the Prophet, stumbled into the cupboard and sank down on a large gold loving-cup, with one foot in a silver soup tureen, and the other in a priceless sugar basin, just as the light of the candle borne by the Prophet glimmered in the darkness of the adjacent corridor.
The Prophet gazed at him with profound curiosity, fascinated by the circular movement of the yellow dogskin finger, and by the inward murmur so acutely mental that accompanied it. "Madame?" whispered the Prophet, drawing his cane chair noiselessly forward. "Ah!" rejoined Malkiel, gazing upon him with an eye whose pupil seemed suddenly dilated to a most preternatural size.
Till I have done this I cannot tell you what form the tests I shall have to apply to you will take. When I have done it you will hear from me. Your servant, sir." He bowed majestically, and was turning towards the door when it was hastily opened and a lady appeared frantically in the aperture. "Miss Minerva!" exclaimed Malkiel the Second. "Lady Enid!" cried the Prophet, at the same moment.
"Thank you. Kindly unlock the door." The young librarian did so, lethargically, and the lady and the Prophet began to move slowly into the street. Just as they were gaining it Malkiel the Second cried out, "One moment, sir!" "Not one," retorted the Prophet, firmly. "Not one till this lady has had an antidote." He walked on with determination. Supporting the lady.
Malkiel the First, my father, was born himself in Peckham, and met my mother when coming through the rye." He brushed aside a tear that flowed at this almost rustic recollection, and continued, "Yet Madame was wishful, and I was wishful too, that the children if we had any should not grow up Eastern. It was a natural and a beautiful desire, sir, was it not?"
The Prophet was now as big as the structure of his frame permitted him to be, and apparently Malkiel realised the fact, for he suddenly dropped his eyes and exclaimed, "This matter must be threshed out thoroughly, Madame herself would wish it so." He paused, drew his chair nearer to the Prophet's, took off a glove and continued, "Sir, you may be a prophet.
"What business?" asked the Prophet. "Mine," replied Malkiel. "Mine, sir, and yours. You have chosen to enter my life. You cannot deny that. You cannot deny that I sought to avoid I might even say to dodge you." With the remembrance of the recent circus performance in the library still strong upon him the Prophet could not. He bowed his head. "Very well, sir. You have chosen to enter my life.
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