This fact could not be hidden, and our neighbour, Madame Pardeau, in a good position for observation, laughed at the attentions shown us. At about this time there was a strange substitution, one which would, henceforth, render the intervention of the somnambulist unnecessary. Madame Vergniat and I were returning home after visiting Talence. On the way, my wife turned round quickly, saying: ‘Some one has just called me: twice I heard a voice say, “Héloïse! Héloïse!”’ From that day forth, Madame Vergniat asked questions mentally and a foreign voice answered them. Very soon the voice took the initiative of conversations, and absorbing Madame Vergniat’s faculties, spoke through her. There was no being deceived; it was easy to recognise the same benevolent spirit, which had only changed his dwelling-place, as it were. The first recommendation given through Madame Vergniat was to cease putting Marie to sleep. ‘Henceforth you will not be able to do so, without incurring much unpleasantness.’ But my keen desire to see and to observe everything was so great, that it got the better of this last advice, and I put the somnambulist to sleep as usual. Ill came of it. To the charitable and benevolent discourses succeeded a dishevelled language, which I thought I could put an end to by awakening the somnambulist; but it was impossible to do so. She walked about the room with her eyes closed, crying out: ‘I will wake up when it suits me to do so. I am here, and I want to stay just because my staying annoys you.’ Then she tried to go out to walk about in the garden, and I was obliged to lock the door. This scene, which lasted for several hours, took away my wish for further experimentation with Marie. From that time, Marie was subjected to several ill-defined influences during her ordinary sleep; she spoke aloud, sometimes she used serious language; sometimes she seemed to be filled with mad joy. The former depth and goodness in advice given through her had disappeared. Moreover, I was amply compensated by the new situation which rendered the somnambulist’s intervention unnecessary, and I thought no further of risking the disagreeable scene of which I have spoken. I may even say that all magnetic attempts and experiments with Marie ended here. There was no further question of them. Sometimes the spirit when consulted did not answer. Madame Vergniat would then say, ‘I speak to him, but he does not reply.’ But he never kept us waiting very long. The spirit often announced his departure. ‘If you have something to ask me, or to tell me,’ he would say, ‘be quick, because I am obliged to go away, and will only be able to return to-morrow at such and such a time.’ And, until the time indicated had arrived, all questioning was useless. There were no replies.