art can command, and order good smoking-hot meats, and wine as good as the king uses, and have rich raiment and soft beds, instead of such poor accommodation as he keeps now. If thou canst tell him anything to better his conditions, good Master Brazen-pate,” went on Miles, looking up at the gloomy features, which in the dim light seemed to frown upon him, “do so, and I’ll set thee up for an oracle.”
As he spoke these last words, a low sound of thunder muttered through the room, and shook gently the pedestal on which the Head rested. A single flash of light lit up the immovable features for one brief instant, and from the lips, a voice scarcely louder than a whisper, yet distinctly audible, uttered the words,—
“Time is!”
“Is that the beginning of your speech, old Brazen-nose,” said Miles, coolly regarding the Head as if it were the most natural thing in the world for it to speak thus. “Go on, I pray thee, and let me hear if thou intendest to say anything worth noting. I will not wake my master for so slight a matter as that thou hast just announced. ‘Time is,’ forsooth! as if that would be news to any such scholar as Friar Bacon. Thou hadst best speak sense if thou wouldst have him listen to thee,”
Again the thunder muttered, but louder thar
