“Well, what is said? Some miserable absurdity, no doubt; another scandal of the people you talk of. Do not hesitate and stammer as if you were afraid—I will help you out. It is said that not long since I, myself, was one of the people—among the lowest, too. Is that it?” The man bowed very gravely, and looked upon that beautiful face, which had long since forgotten to blush, with a sentiment of profound pity. The woman laughed scornfully, and clenched the arm of her chair in fierce wrath. “_You_ presume to pity _me_! I might have forgiven the rest; but this you shall have good cause to remember.” The man bowed, and made a movement toward the door. His face was perfectly calm, his step even. She evidently had not terrified him by her violence. This wonderful composure astonished the woman, who had become so used to adulation and assumed homage, that an assertion of self-respect took her by surprise. “I have not yet dismissed you, monsieur,” she said, with an effort at self-control. The man turned again, and waited while the countess took a golden tablet from her bosom, and read a memorandum from its ivory leaves. “This power of healing is not the most marvellous of your gifts, this memorandum tells me.” “It is the one I am most grateful for,” answered the man. “But that of divination! Tell me if it is true that in Vienna the Empress Maria Theresa sent for you to read the horoscope of her daughter, the Dauphiness of France?” “If her majesty had so honored my poor gifts, it would be a base return to speak of it.” “But it has got out already, do you think the Countess Du Berry can be kept ignorant of what goes on in any court of Europe? there is no longer a mystery. It is said that the Dauphiness turns pale if your name is but mentioned in her presence.” The man remained silent, and stood looking sadly on the floor. Some painful thought seemed to carry him out of that woman’s presence—this gave her new offence. “You do not listen, monsieur. Must I be compelled to speak twice?” The man started as if he had been dreaming. “I crave your pardon, Madame la Countess. Other thoughts came across me, and I forgot your presence. As I cannot accomplish the thing you most desire, permit me to take my leave.” “Not till you have given me a proof of the wonderful power which was sufficient to gain you admittance to the cabinet of Maria Theresa. If your prophesies could drive the blood from that proud heart, they must be worth listening to. Tell me, monsieur, of my own future. How long——” The countess checked herself, she had not the courage to ask, in so many words, how long her evil power might last; for she knew well enough that it was limited to the life of a wicked old man, and even she shrunk from a direct question. But the man divined her reason for hesitation, and answered quietly, as if she had spoken. “Madame la Countess forgets that to divine the king’s death is treason.”