And well she might.
The articles brought in by the servant were simply a little pound-cake and cordial, a tumbler half-filled with the _sirop naturelle_ of the sugar-cane, and a small piece of candle of the kind made from the fragrant green wax of the candleberry myrtle.

These were set upon the small table, the bit of candle standing, lighted, in the tumbler of sirup, the cake on a plate, the cordial in a wine-glass.

This feeble child's play was all; except that as Palmyre closed out all daylight from the room and received the offering of silver that "paid the floor" and averted _guillons_ (interferences of outside imps), Aurora,--alas! alas!--went down upon her knees with her gaze fixed upon the candle's flame, and silently called on Assonquer (the imp of good fortune) to cast his snare in her behalf around the mind and heart of--she knew not whom.
By and by her lips, which had moved at first, were still and she only watched the burning wax.

When the flame rose clear and long it was a sign that Assonquer was enlisted in the coveted endeavor.

When the wick sputtered, the devotee trembled in fear of failure.