“Well, perhaps so, monseigneur; I have confidence in you, because I feel that you are capable of appreciating a mind like mine, adventurous, brave, and pure, in spite of my poverty, and of the enemies which my position has made me. Your eminence will, I am sure, discover all the good that is in me, and be indulgent to all the rest.” “We, are, then, warm friends, madame;” and he advanced towards her, but his arms were a little more extended than the occasion required. She avoided him, and said, laughing: “It must be a friendship among three, cardinal.” “Among three?” “Doubtless, for there exists an exile, a poor gendarme, who is called M. de la Motte.” “Oh, countess, what a deplorably good memory you have!” “I must speak to you of him, that you may not forget him.” “Do you know why I do not speak of him, countess?” “No; pray tell me.” “Because he will speak enough for himself: husbands never let themselves be forgotten. We shall hear that M. le Comte de la Motte found it good, or found it bad, that the Cardinal de Rohan came two, three, or four times a week to visit his wife.” “Ah! but will you come so often, monseigneur?” “Without that, where would be our friendship? Four times! I should have said six or seven.” Jeanne laughed, “I should not indeed wonder in that case if people did talk of it.” “Oh! but we can easily prevent them.” “How?” “Quite easily. The people know me——” “Certainly, monseigneur.” “But you they have the misfortune not to know.” “Well?” “Therefore, if you would——” “What, sir?” “Come out instead of me.” “Come to your hotel, monseigneur?” “You would go to see a minister.” “Oh! a minister is not a man.” “You are adorable, countess. But I did not speak of my hotel; I have a house——” “Oh! a petite maison?” “No; a house of yours.” “A house of mine, cardinal! Indeed, I did not know it.” “To-morrow, at ten o’clock, you shall have the address.” The countess blushed; the cardinal took her hand again, and imprinted another kiss upon it, at once bold, respectful, and tender. They then bowed to each other. “Light monseigneur down,” said the countess; and he went away. “Well,” thought she, “I have made a great step in the world.” “Come,” said the cardinal to himself as he drove off, “I think I have killed two birds with one stone; this woman has too much talent not to catch the queen as she has caught me?” CHAPTER XVI. MESMER AND ST. MARTIN. The fashionable study in Paris at this time, and that which engrossed most of those who had no business to attend to, was Mesmerism—a mysterious science, badly defined by its discoverers, who did not wish to render it too plain to the eyes of the people. Dr. Mesmer, who had given to it his own name, was then in Paris, as we have already heard from Marie Antoinette. This Doctor Mesmer deserves a few words from us, as his name was then in all mouths.