D'Artagnan, the King Maker — page 180: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

First Sword, then Sceptre. 169 “I do believe in him! ‘What does he think—not of me—a straw! but of my project?” ‘The answer he sent is a jewel—an icterias “The stone to cure jaundice! Then, he——” ‘Believes you a sick prince, and blessed with visions!’ “Pardy; to see a crown—celestial—is to be a Car- dinal! To see one earthly, is to be a sick-brain! I thank the sage in scarlet! As for Giustinanio?” ‘He is besotted with fatty degeneration, I lament to say! It was very throatily that he gurgled: (imitating) that he had a horoscopist in his secretary, who had fore- cast your grace’s fate by Catoptromancy, which is done by dipping a mirror in water fi “T think, I know—I saw two professors of it burnt at Madrid for the practice—one tells by the figures traced on the glass by the water remaining: iy “No doubt. Your highness’ figure stood alone among circles—ciphers ‘ “By the sword which smote the Five Emirs!” cried Braganza, warmly, losing his great patience at being badgered before his wife, “I shall prove that when the figure is followed by ciphers enough, it is a million strong!” Up rose the duchess with a flaming cheek. ‘What nonsense, father!’’ she said, in the monk’s face. “Every old woman knows that it is a trick; you draw the figure desired on the glass with a candle-end so that the water clouds the surface where there is no grease! Pshaw! these are fool-traps beneath a primate’s heed.” Caught between two fires, the monk mumbled, in his cowl, within which he had receded like a tortoise. ‘What did the Prince Farnese say ?”’ “He said that he would have the Trigintals said for your highness in his private chapel!” “Thirty masses! as if I were dead and gone! By the Inexhaustible Grace! there will be newly-dead, dying de- ploring that I did not follow some false beacon into the Pit! But the Pope, our Holy Urban, what he sends may not be gold, but it will be worth it!” “The Holy Father said—said ” he stammered, as if he were rolling a hot but toothsome morsel over his +> CORNICE LOOOKS (C(O) im