an! But how could you reply that there would be another
comptroller-general in a year's time, and run the risk of compromising
the oracle? I never dare to say things like that; I love the oracle too
well to expose it to shame and confusion."

"That shews that I do not invent the answers; but since the oracle has
pronounced it I am willing to bet that Silhouette will be dismissed."

"Your obstinacy drives me to despair, for I shall not rest till I know
that I am as much a master of the cabala as you are, and yet you will not
confess that you invent the answers yourself. For charity's sake do
something to convince me of the contrary."

"I will think it over."

I passed the whole day with this delightful girl, whose amiable
disposition and great wealth would have made me a happy man if it were
not for my master-passion, the love of independence, and my aversion to
make up my mind to live for the rest of my days in Holland.

In the course of my life I have often observed that the happiest hours
are often the heralds of misfortune. The very next day my evil genius
took me to the Ville de Lyon. This was the inn where Piccolomini and his
wife were staying, and I found them there in the midst of a horde of
cheats and sharpers, like themselves. As soon as the good people heard my
name they rushed forward, some to greet me, and others to have a closer
look at me, as if I were some strange wild beast. Amongst those present
were a Chevalier de Sabi, who wore the uniform of a Polish major, and
protested he had known me at Dresden; a Baron de Wiedan, claiming Bohemia
as his fatherland, who greeted me by saying that his friend the Comte St.
Germain had arrived at the Etoile d'Orient, and had been enquiring after
me; an attenuated-looking bravo who was introduced to me as the Chevalier
de la Perine, whom I recognized at the first glance as the fellow called
Talvis, who had robbed the Prince-Bishop of Presburg, who had lent me a
hundred Louis the same day, and with whom I had fought a duel at Paris.
Finally, there was an Italian named Neri, who looked like a blacksmith
minus his honesty, and said that he remembered seeing me one evening at
the casino. I recollected having seen him at the place where I met the
wretched Lucie.

In the midst of this band of cut-purses I saw the so-called wife of the
pretended Chevalier de Sabi, a pretty woman from Saxony, who, speaking
Italian indifferently well, was paying her addresses to the Count