It was a real relief when the solemnity of the reception broke up and we were ushered into the adjoining dining-room for an excellent tea. Here I came upon my Swedish friend, who had only just arrived, and "missed all the fun." She told me there was to be a _seance_ held in the house next day, and that she had been asking the Countess if I might not be present. "_It might amuse you, Kat!_" was her irreverent way of putting it. "_Unfortunately, there seems to be some difficulty about it._" At this moment Lady Caithness came up, and cordially expressed her regrets that she could not accede to Madame Bruegel's suggestion. "Had you been staying until next week, Miss Bates, I would gladly have arranged for it, but to-morrow is a very special occasion. As a matter of fact, I have promised M. Petit that no one shall be present except himself and me, and the two female mediums, of course. On Wednesday we are to have a crowded meeting here--all the well-known people in Paris will come--and M. l'Abbe will read his paper explaining that he can no longer blind his eyes to the new light breaking upon the world through scientific discovery, etc., but that he remains a loyal son of the Church, if the Church will allow him to do so. It is, of course, a very trying and anxious ordeal; for many priests will be present, also a cardinal and one or more of our bishops. So the _seance_ to-morrow will be specially devoted to receiving last instructions for the paper he is about to read, and some words, we trust, of encouragement and hope." Of course, I hastened to assure Lady Caithness of my full comprehension of her point, and added that I was only sorry she should have been asked to alter her arrangements on my account. "But you will join us on Wednesday at the meeting, I trust? It will be held at three P.M., in a large room on the ground floor, which is arranged for such gatherings. I shall expect you then, so we will not say good-bye." This was heaping coals of fire on my head; for so observant a woman as Lady Caithness must have noticed my difficulty in keeping a grave face earlier in the afternoon! Now comes a curious point. As we left the house Madame Bruegel in expressing disappointment about the next evening, added: "And yet somehow I think you will go after all." "Yes," I said involuntarily. "I believe I _shall_ go, but I cannot think how it will come about; nothing could be more decided than what we have just heard, and I cannot possibly put off my journey to England the end of this week." I think we were both a little disappointed when no letter arrived by the morning's post. "Local letters often come by second post," urged my friend, who was very keen upon her presentiment.