an old man with piercing eyes, a hooked nose, and a couple of thin
streams of white beard growing from a receding chin; a velvet cap,
formed like an imperial crown, covered his bald skull, and his body,
of an inhuman emaciation, was wrapped up in an old gown of yellow
silk, resplendent but dirty.

Right piercing looks were turned on us, but he gave no sign that he
noticed our arrival. His face had an expression of painful
stubbornness, and he slowly rolled between his rigid fingers the
reed which served him for writing.

"Do not expect idle words from Mosaide," said M. d'Asterac to us.
"For a long time this sage does not communicate with anyone but the
genii and myself. His discourses are sublime. As he will never
converse with you, gentlemen, I'll endeavour to give you in a few
words an idea of his merits. First he has penetrated into the
spiritual sense of the books of Moses, after that into the value of
the Hebrew characters, which depends on the order of the letters of
the alphabet. This order has been thrown into confusion from the
eleventh letter forward. Mosaide has re-established it, which
Atrabis, Philo, Avicenne, Raymond Lully, P. de la Mirandola,
Reuchlin, Henry More and Robert Flydd have been unable to do.
Mosaide knows the number of the gold which corresponds to Jehovah in
the world of spirits, and you must agree, gentlemen, that that is of
infinite consequence."

My dear tutor took his snuff-box in hand, presented it civilly to
us, took a pinch himself and said:

"Do you not believe, M. d'Asterac, that this sort of knowledge is