“So I have heard, sir. Have you been to look at him recently?”

The gentleman frowned. “I? Did you just not hear me say that I consider these magicians the stupidest, most abominable men in England? No, I have not seen him above twice or three times a week since he left London. When he writes, he cuts his nibs rather square with a old pen-knife. I should be ashamed to use so battered and ugly an old knife, but these magicians endure all sorts of nastiness that you and I would shudder at! Sometimes he gets so lost in what he is writing that he forgets to mend his nib and then the ink splatters on to his paper and into his coffee and he pays it no attention at all.”

Stephen reflected how odd it was that the gentleman, who lived in a partly ruinous house surrounded by the grisly bones of bygone battles, should be so sensitive to disorder in other people’s houses. “And what of the subject of the book, sir?” he asked. “What is your opinion of that?”

“It is most peculiar! He describes all the most important appearances of my race in this country. There are accounts of how we have intervened in Britain’s affairs for Britain’s good and the greater glory of the inhabitants. He continually gives it as his opinion that nothing is so desirable as that the magicians of this Age should immediately summon us up and beg for our assistance. Can you make any thing of this, Stephen? I cannot. When I wished to bring the King of England to my house and shew him all sorts of polite attentions, this same magician thwarted me. His behaviour upon that occasion seemed calculated to insult me!”

“But I think, sir,” said Stephen, gently, “that perhaps he did not quite understand who or what you were.”

“Oh! who can tell what these Englishmen understand? Their minds are so peculiar! It is impossible to know what they are thinking! I fear you will find it so, Stephen, when you are their King!”

“I really have no wish to be King of anywhere, sir.”

“You will feel very differently when you are King. It is just that you are cast down at the thought of being excluded from Lost-hope and all your friends. Be easy upon that score! I too would be miserable if I thought that your elevation would be the means of parting us. But I see no necessity for you to reside permanently in England merely because you are its monarch. A week is the utmost any person of taste could be expected to linger in such a dull country. A week is more than enough!”

“But what of my duties, sir? It is my understanding that kings have a great deal of business, and as little as I want to be King, I should not wish …”