“I accept your offer willingly,” I replied, “but I must tell you before hand I am not a novice.” This introduction took place in my study, and we sat down to a table on which refreshments were served. This was a trap by which I intended to make my visitor more communicative. I then took up a pack of cards, and showed him my dexterity in _sauter la coupe_ and various other tricks. I was watching D---- to observe the impression I produced on him, and after a few moments’ careful following my hands, he gave his comrade a gentle wink, of which I did not understand the meaning. I stopped for a moment, and not wishing to ask a direct explanation, I opened a bottle of Bordeaux, and filled his glass several times. This scheme was successful, and the wine loosened his tongue, and he told me something that surprised me. “I have a remark to make, M. Robert-Houdin,” he said, emptying his glass, and holding it out to be filled again: “I thought I had come here to deal with what we call a ‘pigeon;’ I perceive it is quite otherwise, and as I do not wish to expose the tricks by which I earn my livelihood, I will content myself with the pleasure of having formed your acquaintance.” The technical terms seemed to me a startling contrast to my visitor’s elegant manners, still, as I did not wish to give in yet, I said, in a tone of disappointment, “I hope, sir, you will recall your decision, and not leave me till you have shown me how you handle the cards. You can do this without prejudice, I think?” To my great satisfaction he at length consented. “Very well,” he said, taking up a pack of cards; “but you will see our modes of ‘working’ do not agree.” It would be difficult for me to give a name to what he performed in my presence. It was not, properly speaking, sleight-of-hand; but they were tricks and processes applied to cards, and were so unexpected, that they must deceive everybody. This manipulation was only an exhibition, however, of certain principles I learned at a later date. Like singers who begin by being urged, and who, when they have once started, cannot leave off, D----, animated both by the sincere praise I offered him and the great number of glasses of Bordeaux he had swallowed, said to me with that frankness common to drinkers, “And now, sir, I will give you another hint. I am not a professor of sleight-of-hand, but only perform a few tricks I show to amateurs. These lessons, you can understand, would not suffice for my livelihood, and I will tell you, then,” he added, emptying his glass again, and holding it out to be filled, as if he wished me to pay for his confidence, “I visit in the evening houses where I have managed to gain an introduction, and profit by some of the principles I have just shown you.” “I suppose you give a performance?” D---- smiled slightly, and repeated the wink he had once before given his comrade.