The profits of these two transactions amounted to about three thousand francs. With the funds resulting from the liquidation of the 15th I was given the mission to reserve one thousand francs for the father of a large family. And the souvenir of this good action, for which, in a way, I was but an agent, rejoices me still. Other less important distributions were ordered to be made. Finally, to crown everything, we were told to illuminate our garden in honour of the Virgin. The profits of the second liquidation followed afterwards, and gave rise to a curious incident. On pay-day, when the profits were at the disposition of the mysterious spirit, he begged me to return to Bordeaux to buy a piano, which he offered to my daughter. (This was the ‘present’ which had been spoken of in the beginning of these bourse transactions.) ‘Go,’ he said, ‘to M. Caudéré’s, Allées de Tourny, No. 50, where you will buy a second-hand piano; you will be asked six hundred and fifty francs for it.’ Upon making the remark that I needed precise indications in order to avoid all confusion, he replied: ‘It is not necessary. I will be there to see that they offer you the piano I want. You will not be obliged to bargain, for the price is less than the value of the instrument.’ How could I resist the commands of such a kind-hearted friend, whose power seemed to have no other limit than that of his will? Moreover, was it my province to discuss the manner of employing money which did not belong to me? Therefore I arrived at Allées de Tourny. Madame Caudéré was alone in the shop. I followed my instructions, and was offered a second-hand piano for six hundred francs. It was fifty francs below the stated price. I hesitated taking it, but, remembering his own words, ‘_I will be there_,’ I concluded the bargain on the express condition that the instrument might be delivered the same evening, according to our benefactor’s will. I arrived home quickly, impatient to have an explanation concerning the fifty francs. It was the first time I had observed an irregularity, and as my submission was only the result of an infallibility which, until then, had never been belied, the absolute and regular continuation of these facts was required in order to keep up that blind confidence which already impaired so seriously my free will. It was with almost a triumphant air I announced that the piano had only cost six hundred francs. ‘I know it,’ said the unknown; ‘but Madame made a mistake.’ On the morrow, when settling the account, the shopkeeper said to me: ‘You got a bargain yesterday; my wife made a mistake in selling you for six hundred francs a piano I had fixed at six hundred and fifty.’ Absorbed in these supernatural incidents, I did not think of replying. I walked slowly home wrapped in thought. I related to the mysterious being what had happened to me at the piano-shop.