iette was thus deeply
engaged, young d'Esparvieu slipped the little _Lucretius_ into his
pocket, and strolled deliberately past the crouching librarian, bidding
him adieu with a little wave of the hand.

Armed with his talisman, he hastened to the Place des Ternes, to
interview Madame Mira. She received him in a red drawing-room where
neither owl nor frog nor any of the paraphernalia of ancient magic were
to be found. Madame Mira, in a prune-coloured dress, her hair powdered,
though already past her prime, was of very good appearance. She spoke
with a certain elegance and prided herself on discovering hidden things
by the help alone of Science, Philosophy, and Religion. She felt the
morocco binding, feigning to close her eyes, and looking meanwhile
through the narrow slit between her lids at the Latin title and the coat
of arms which conveyed nothing to her.

Accustomed to receive as tokens such things as rings, handkerchiefs,
letters, and locks of hair, she could not conceive to what sort of
individual this singular book could belong. By habitual and mechanical
cunning she disguised her real surprise under a feigned surprise.

"Strange!" she murmured, "strange! I do not see quite clearly ... I
perceive a woman...."

As she let fall this magic word, she glanced furtively to see what sort
of an effect it had and beheld on her questioner's face an unexpected
look of disappointment. Perceiving that she was off the track, she
immediately changed her oracle:

"But she fades away immediately. It is strange, strange! I have a
confused impression of some vague form, a being that I cannot define,"
and having assured herself by a hurried glance that, this time, her
words were going down, she expatiated on the vagueness of the person and
on the mist that enveloped him.

However, the vision grew clearer to Madame Mira, who was following a
clue step by step.

"A wide street ... a square with a statue ... a deserted
street,--stairs. He is there in a bluish room--he is a young man, with
pale and careworn face. There are things he seems to regret, and which
he would not do again did they still remain undone."

But the effort at divination had been too great. Fatigue prevented the
clairvoyante from continuing her transcendental researches. She spent
her remaining strength in impressively recommending him who consulted
her to remain in intimate union with God if he wished to regain what he
had lost and succeed in his attempts.