"Shall we proceed any further, madame?" I asked. She was almost struck dumb with astonishment. "Oh! Heavens!" she said, "I am afraid it will exhaust the poor child too much to answer such questions as those; they are far beyond the range of her age and understanding. The way she answers them," added the mother, "terrifies me." I turned again to the child. "Does the hypnotic sleep tire you, Marie?" "Not in the slightest, monsieur." "You think, then, that you can answer my questions easily?" "Certainly." "Yet they are not the usual questions that are addressed to a child of your age." "God is willing that I should understand them." We again looked at each other. "Continue," said the mother. "Go on," all the rest of the company exclaimed, in eager curiosity. "Will the present form of government continue?" "Yes, monsieur; it will last for several years." "Will Lamartine or Ledru-Rollin be its bulwark?" "Neither the one nor the other." "Then we shall have a president?" "Yes." "And after this president whom shall we have?" "Henri V." "Henri V.?... But you know quite well, my child, that he is in exile!" "Yes, but he will return to France." "How will he return to France? By force?" "No; by the consent of the French people." "And where will he re-enter France?" "At Grenoble." "Will he have to fight to gain an entry?" "No; he will come by way of Italy; from Italy he will enter Dauphiné, and one morning it will be reported, 'Henri V. is in the citadel of Grenoble.'" "So there is a citadel at Grenoble?" "Yes, monsieur." "Can you see it?" "Yes, on a height." "And the town?" "The town is low down, in the valley." "Is there a river in the town?" "There are two." "Are their waters of the same colour?" "No; one is white and the other is green." We looked at each other in still greater astonishment than at first. Marie had never been to Grenoble and they did not think she even knew the name of the capital of Dauphiné when she was in her ordinary senses. "But are you quite sure that the Duc de Bordeaux will be at Grenoble?" "As sure as though his name were written here"; and she pointed to her forehead. "What does he look like? Come, give us a description of him." "He is of medium height, rather stout; he is auburn; his eyes are blue and his hair is fashioned in the same way as that of the angels drawn by Mademoiselle Marie Dumas." "Well, as he passes before your eyes, do you notice anything peculiar about his gait?" "He limps." "And where will he go from Grenoble?" "To Lyons." "Will they not oppose his entrance at Lyons?" "They will try to do so at first, but I can see a number of workpeople going before him, leading him in." "Are there no shots fired?" "Oh yes, monsieur, several; but not much harm is done." "Where are those shots fired?" "On the road from Lyons to Paris." "By which suburb will he enter Paris?" "By Saint-Martin."