"What a tenacious, enduring will," she said, without raising her eyes from the emperor's hand; "yet there is a weakness here, a hesitating delay; this hand is formed to draw the bow with care and skill, but it will hesitate before letting the arrow fly; it wishes to remain lord of the arrow in its flight, but the arrow then belongs to fate. This hand will not quickly loose the string even when the aim is taken, and the eye perceives that the right moment has come; it will launch the arrow from the concussion of a sudden doubt,--but the arrow obeys the eternal might of Providence," she added, in a low voice. She then continued her attentive examination of the palm. "Broken soon after its beginning, the line of life winds in entwining curves, often crossed and stopped by opposing lines, then it rises in a bold, broad arch, higher and higher, until--" She gazed with a vacant, dreamy look upon the hand, and remained silent. "You have a remarkable hand, monsieur," she said, without looking up; "the great Fabius Cunctator must have had a hand like yours--yet here are lines which must have been found in the hand of Catiline, though without the restless haste of that conspirator, and here are the lines of Cæsar--no, of Augustus. Sir," she said, "your hand is very remarkable, it is formed slowly and carefully to knot the threads of fate, it is made to build up and to collect, to uphold and to foster, and yet fate often compels it to destroy." "And whither does the line of life lead?" asked the emperor, in so low a voice that the sound was scarcely heard. Madame Moreau said slowly and thoughtfully: "It turns back to whence it came." Napoleon looked at Piétri. "Uncertain as the Pythia," he whispered. Madame Moreau might have heard and understood these words or not. She said: "The riddle which the line of life does not reveal, will perhaps be read by my cards." She let go the emperor's hand, and taking from a drawer in her table some large cards, beautifully painted with strange figures and characters, she handed them to the emperor to shuffle. He did so, still keeping his face in the shadow from the lamp, and gave her back the pack. "Monsieur," she then said, "this is a combination that seldom occurs. I see you surrounded by the brightest splendour of the highest on earth, your hand links the fate of numbers. My God!" she cried, "for One only have I seen this constellation--it is so, it must be so, here is the eagle above your head; the star in the diagonal, the golden bees,--it would be unworthy to remain silent, it would lower my art." She rose hastily and bowing deeply, with a movement possessing a certain grace and dignity, notwithstanding her short and corpulent figure, she said: "My poor house has the happiness of beholding the monarch of France beneath its roof; sire, with the deepest respect I greet my great and beloved emperor!" Napoleon started with surprise, then he moved out of the shadow and said laughingly: