"In blood!" replied Pilar, with the energy of a tragic actress. "Alas!" said the marquis to Lauriane under his breath, "that is only too true, I doubt not! My poor brother, you know!" And he added, aloud: "I wish to question this little soothsayer myself." "Do so, monseigneur," said La Flèche. "Listen, black fly! and speak truly to a gentleman who is of much more consequence than you!" Thereupon, the marquis, turning to Pilar, questioned her gently: "Tell me, my poor little girl, what I have lost?" "_A son_!" she replied. "Don't laugh, neighbor," said the marquis to De Beuvre, "she tells the truth. He was like a son to me!" And to Pilar: "When did I lose him?" "Eleven years and five months since." "And how many days?" "Less five days." "She is mistaken there," said the marquis to Lucilio; "for I heard from him after the time she mentions; but let us see if she can read the rest." Again he turned to the child. "How did I lose him?" he asked. "By a violent death!" she replied; "but you will have consolation." "When?" "Within three months, three weeks or three days." "What sort of consolation?" "Three sorts: vengeance, wisdom, a family." "A family? Am I to be married, pray?" "No; you will be a father!" "Really?" cried the marquis, undisturbed by Monsieur de Beuvre's hearty laughter. "When shall I be a father?" "Within three months, three weeks or three days. I have told everything about you, and I want to rest." The sitting was suspended with a deluge of jests showered by Monsieur de Beuvre on the marquis. In order that the predicted advent of an heir should take place within three months, three weeks or three days, three women must have "received the order." The poor marquis was so well aware of the contrary that all his faith in magic was destroyed. He submitted to be made fun of, protesting his innocence, but not over desirous that they should believe it to be so absolute as it really was. The child asked leave to prepare her conjurations for the last token. It was D'Alvimar's pebble. But in order that the reader may understand what follows, it is necessary that he should know what Pilar and her master, La Flèche, had agreed upon. What La Flèche knew and wished to impart to Bois-Doré, he expected to have the child divulge when D'Alvimar was not present. The child, from caprice and vanity, refused to adhere to the agreement made between them. She insisted upon reciting her whole lesson, even though she had to suffer for it, and though La Flèche might lose his life or his liberty. It may be that these perils, in which, as she well knew, she could involve him, sharpened her instincts of hate. So she spoke as she chose, despite the warning gestures and grimaces of her master, who could say nothing to her in Spanish which D'Alvimar would not understand. She picked up the stone, examined the signs that surrounded it, pretended to make a computation, and said in Spanish, threateningly and with appalling vehemence: