sked Gerald eagerly.

'I scarcely know how or what to call it. It savours of the old Egyptian
art called "fate-reading." I am sceptical enough on most things; and had
I not seen with my eyes, and heard with my ears, I had scouted the very
thought of such revelations.'

'And what have you seen?'

De Noe paused for a few seconds, and in a voice slightly tremulous for
agitation, said: 'I will tell you what I myself witnessed. It was
one night late at Madame Roland's: the company had all gone, save the
Gabrielle, Brissot, Guidet, and myself, and we only waited for carriages
to fetch us away, as the rain was falling in torrents. The Gabrielle,
shawled and muffled, ready to depart, seated herself in the antechamber;
and refusing all entreaties to return to the salon, remained in a sort
of reverie, with closed eyes and clasped hands--the attitude bespeaking
one who would not be disturbed. Madame Roland said it was an "extase,"
and would not suffer any one to speak. After a long pause, during which
her countenance was perfectly motionless, she slowly raised her arm and
pointed with her finger toward one corner of the room. 'There, there,'
whispered she, in a low voice, 'what a number of them! There are more
than fifty; and see, they are saddling more! The black one will not let
himself be bridled. Ah! he has kicked the groom; poor fellow! they are
carrying him away. Hush! take care, take care, or the secret will be
out. Silly man,' said she, with a mocking smile, 'he would paint out
the arms, as if any one could be deceived by such a cavalcade.' At this,
Brissot whispered in my ear: 'It is the royal stable that she sees. I
will soon test the truth of this vision'; and he stepped unnoticed from
the room. He had not gone many minutes, when with a long-drawn sigh
she opened her eyes and looked about her. "How late my carriage is
to-night," said she to Madame Roland, "and how ashamed am I to keep
you up to such an hour!" While Madame Roland answered her in tones of
kindness and affection, I watched the Gabrielle closely. There was not a
line in that pale face that indicated the slightest emotion; perhaps the
most marked expression was a look of weariness and exhaustion. At length
the carriage arrived, and she drove away. We, however, all remained, for
Brissot had promised me to return, and I told them whither he had gone.
It was past two when he came back, pale as death, and covered with
a cold perspiration. "It is as she said,"