"Certainly; but it will not teach you anything you do not know." The
father came in again and we had dinner, and after the dessert, when the
worthy d 'O---- learnt from his daughter's oracle that the stone was
false, the scene became a truly comical one. He burst into exclamations
of astonishment, declared the thing impossible, incredible, and at last
begged me to ask the same question, as he was quite sure that his
daughter was mistaken, or rather that the oracle was deluding her.

I set to work, and was not long in obtaining my answer. When he saw that
it was to the same effect as Esther's, though differently expressed, he
had no longer any doubts as to his daughter's skill, and hastened to go
and test the pretended diamond, and to advise his associates to say
nothing about the matter after they had received proofs of the
worthlessness of the stone. This advice was, as it happened, useless; for
though the persons concerned said nothing, everybody knew about it, and
people said, with their usual malice, that the dupes had been duped most
thoroughly, and that St. Germain had pocketed the hundred thousand
florins; but this was not the case.

Esther was very proud of her success, but instead of being satisfied with
what she had done, she desired more fervently every day to possess the
science in its entirety, as she supposed I possessed it.

It soon became known that St. Germain had gone by Emden and had embarked
for England, where he had arrived in safety. In due time we shall hear
some further details concerning this celebrated impostor; and in the
meanwhile I must relate a catastrophe of another kind, which was near to
have made me die the death of a fool.

It was Christmas Day. I had got up early in the morning in better spirits
than usual. The old women tell you that always presages misfortune, but I
was as far then as I am now from making my happiness into an omen of
grief. But this time chance made the foolish belief of good effect. I
received a letter and a large packet from Paris; they came from Manon. I
opened the letter and I thought I should have died of grief when I
read,--

"Be wise, and receive the news I give you calmly. The packet contains
your portrait and all the letters you have written to me. Return me my
portrait, and if you have kept my letters be kind enough to burn them. I
rely on your honour. Think of me no more. Duty bids me do all I can to
forget you, for at this hour to-morrow I shall b