You don't seem to be in a good
humour."

"You would have done better to come at noon; it is not nine o'clock yet,
and madame did not come home till three o'clock this morning. I am just
going to wake her, and I am sorry for her."

I was taken into the room directly, and though her eyes were half closed
she thanked me for awaking her, while I apologized for having disturbed
her sleep.

"Raton," said she, "give us the writing materials, and go away. Don't
come till I call you, and if anyone asks for me, I am asleep."

"Very good, madam, and I will go to sleep also."

"My dear M. Casanova, how is it that the oracle has deceived us? M. du
Rumain is still alive, and he ought to have died six months ago. It is
true that he is not well, but we will not go into all that again. The
really important question is this: You know that music is my favourite
pursuit, and that my voice is famous for its strength and compass; well,
I have completely lost it. I have not sung a note for three months. The
doctors have stuffed me with remedies which have had no effect: It makes
me very unhappy, for singing was the one thing that made me cling to
life. I entreat you to ask the oracle how I can recover my voice. How
delighted I should be if I could sing by to-morrow. I have a great many
people coming here, and I should enjoy the general astonishment. If the
oracle wills it I am sure that it might be so, for I have a very strong
chest. That is my question; it is a long one, but so much the better; the
answer will be long too, and I like long answers."

I was of the same opinion, for when the question was a long one, I had
time to think over the answer as I made the pyramid. Madame Rumain's
complaint was evidently something trifling, but I was no physician, and
knew nothing about medicine. Besides, for the honour of the cabala, the
oracle must have nothing to do with mere empiric remedies. I soon made up
my mind that a little care in her way of living would soon restore the
throat to its normal condition, and any doctor with brains in his head
could have told her as much. In the position I was in, I had to make use
of the language of a charlatan, so I resolved on prescribing a ceremonial
worship to the sun, at an hour which would insure some regularity in her
mode of life.

The oracle declared that she would recover her voice in twenty-one days,
reckoning from the new moon, if she worshipped the rising sun every
morning, in a room which