Generous in her misfortune, she did not reproach Mother Michel; on the contrary, the Countess sought to comfort that poor woman, who had given herself up wholly to grief. The Countess said to her one night:-- "What can you do against an irresistible calamity? The wisdom of man consists not in struggling with unhappiness, but in submitting himself to the will of Heaven." "I am of your opinion," replied Mother Michel. "If I believed, like you, in the death of Moumouth, I would resign myself without a murmur. But I have the idea that he still lives; I picture him running through the streets, the victim of ill treatment, with saucepans, may be"-- "Go to, Mother Michel, you deceive yourself; Moumouth is dead, otherwise he would have come back to us." "Something tells me that he is still in this world, and if Madame the Countess wishes to have tidings of him, she has only to address herself"-- "To whom?" "To our neighbor, Madame Bradamor, that celebrated fortune-teller, who predicts the future, removes freckles, reads in the Book of Destinies, and charms away the toothache." "Fie, Mother Michel! how can you, a sensible woman, have any confidence in the juggling of an adventuress?" "But, madame, I am not alone; the most distinguished people go to Madame Bradamor; she is more learned and less dear than her rivals, and asks only ten crowns to make you behold the devil Astaroth." "Enough, for pity's sake!" responded the Countess, dryly. Mother Michel remained silent; but she had made up her mind, and, the first time she had a moment of liberty, she ran to the house of the necromancer. The fortune-teller occupied a spacious apartment richly furnished, for she gained a great deal of money by cheating the public. Her consultation-room was draped with hangings of black velvet sprinkled with gilt stars; upon a square table, in the centre of the chamber, stood painted tin obelisks, jars of electricity, retorts, and divers mathematical instruments, of whose uses the pretended sorceress was quite ignorant, but which she had placed there in order to impose on the weak-minded persons who came to consult her. She at first showed some embarrassment on beholding Mother Michel; however, after having closed a glass door which communicated with the other apartments, she returned to salute her new client, and said in a solemn tone:-- "What is your desire?" "To question the present, the past, and the future." "I am the very one to satisfy you," replied Madame Bradamor; "but what you demand is very difficult, and will cost you three crowns." "There they are; I give them to you with all my heart." Madame Bradamor, full of regret that she had not insisted on having more, pocketed the money, and began in these terms:-- "What is the date of your birth?" "The 24th of May, 1698." "What are the initials of your name and the first letter of the place in which you were born?" [Illustration: Mother Michel pays Three Crowns.] "A, R, M, N, L, S."