But they are gone, those days--they are displaced, those sciences.

The Alchemist and the Rosicrucian are no more, and of all their race, the professor of Legerdemain alone survives.

Ladies and gentlemen, my magic he is simple.
I retain not familiars.

I employ not crucible, nor furnace, nor retort.
I but amuse you with my agility of hand, and for commencement I tell you that you shall be deceived as well as the Wizard of the Caucasus can deceive you." His voice trembled, and the slender wand shivered in his hand.

Was this nervousness?
Or was he, in accordance with the quaintness of his costume and the amplitude of his beard, enacting the feebleness of age?
He advanced to the front of the platform.