My friend paused after he had concluded this strange story, and, beginning to fear lest he had been led away from the original purport of the tale, I reminded him that he had not yet explained to me the particulars of that first interview with Madame Grandt, which had had such a powerful effect on the destinies of the after-life of the prince. “It was indeed a fitful night,” said C.; “one of those wherein the superstitious might easily believe that the devil is allowed to walk abroad and mingle his curse with the vain projects of aspiring man. It had begun for M. de Talleyrand with a scene of purgatory—it ended with a vision of heaven. “He hastened home full of the stormy emotions of the interview with Fénélon, and the strange and almost terrific discovery he had made beneath the lantern in the Rue de Montpensier. He was harassed and fatigued; and, eager to gain the quiet and solitude of his own chamber, was hurrying to repose, when, judge of his annoyance—his servant informed him that a lady was waiting to receive him in his study, whose business was of so much importance, that having called late in the evening with the hope of finding him at home, she had preferred awaiting his return, even although it should not take place until dawn, so great was her fear of losing the interview she had come so far to obtain. “It was thus with more vexation than curiosity that M. de Talleyrand entered, therefore, the study—where the stranger, according to the account of the servant, had already been awaiting him for _five_ long mortal hours!—without any of the _prestige_ which had usually accompanied his introduction to a stranger of the softer sex, perhaps even _his_ calm temper a little ruffled at the unseasonable hour and the unexpected _corvée_. “The shaded lamp upon the chimney-piece threw but a dim light around the room, and some few moments elapsed before he could even perceive the lady, who was seated in the large arm-chair by the fire, her figure enveloped in the mantle worn at the time, wide but not long, reaching only to the knees, and displaying the gauze and gold tissue of the ball-dress worn beneath. It was evident that the fair stranger, exhausted with fatigue and watching, had fallen into a sleep so sound, that not even the entrance of M. de Talleyrand, nor his approach, nor his convenient fit of coughing, had power to rouse her. A letter addressed to himself lay upon the table, and he opened it, hoping that the noise which he made in moving to and fro would awaken her. It was a letter from Montrond, introducing to his acquaintance the bearer, Madame Grandt, who wished to confer with him upon urgent business, and to seek his advice in an affair concerning which none but himself could give information.