"I must compliment you, madame, on the penetration of your cards. Since my great uncle visited your mistress, his nephew and successor may well visit the pupil. But now that we are without mask," he continued, "tell me more of the fate inscribed on your cards." Madame Moreau returned to her chair, and seated herself at a sign from the emperor--who on his part came close to the table and sat down, looking at the out-spread cards attentively. "Sire," said the lady, "your majesty will believe that I, who love France, and whose whole heart hangs upon your great race, have often tried in solitude to read by my art the fate of the empire; wonderful to say, this very constellation has each time appeared, the very same which now lies unchanged before me, in the cards your imperial hand has shuffled. I cannot be deceived. It would be absurd of me to tell of your majesty's past, from the cards now lying before me; one thing only I would say,"--she added with hesitation, "may I speak?" and she glanced at Piétri. "I have no secrets from this gentleman," said Napoleon. "Sire," proceeded Madame Moreau, still gazing on the cards, "your majesty is happy in a noble consort possessing every virtue--and yet--" "And yet?" asked the emperor in a voice in which surprise mingled with slight impatience. "Sire," said she slowly and solemnly, "the life of your majesty lies on the border land of the powers of light and darkness, a bright and glittering star beams down upon it, but the deep shadow of a demon-like fate often threatens to obscure its pure light. Beneath the brilliance of that star, beneath the influence of its blessed rays, the young heart of your majesty first opened to the warm breath of youthful poetry, and an absorbing love: the great emperor's blessing, the noble martyr of St. Helena, rested on this love; it would have lighted and warmed your majesty's heart; and this love was responded to by a heart in whose veins flowed the blood of your great predecessor." The emperor looked down with emotion, a melancholy expression appeared on his face. "Sire," continued Madame Moreau, "the dark shadow prevailed, the night of fate closed over that love and its hopes. The heart that beat for you has grieved during a sad and solitary life, and you have missed the guide, the good genius of your youth, who would have led you onwards beneath the rays of your star, and who would often have strengthened your doubting heart." The emperor was silent. A sigh heaved his breast. "Go on," he then said. "Even now, sire," said Madame Moreau, "your heart is in doubt, to-day two opposing spirits wrestle in your soul, you balance between war and peace,--oh! wonderful," she proceeded, gazing attentively at the cards and pointing to some of the pictures, "the men of the sword urge peace." The emperor listened with surprise.