What an odd queer kind of fortune had been told her! And then it had all been so muddled.

She could scarcely remember what it was that _had_ been told her.
Two things, however, remained very clear in her mind: The one was the absurd prediction that she might never go back to her own country; the second was all that extraordinary talk about her pearls.

As to the promised lover, the memory of the soothsayer's words made her feel very angry.

No doubt Frenchwomen liked that sort of innuendo, but it only disgusted her.
Yet it was really very strange that Madame Cagliostra had known, or rather had divined, that she possessed a necklace by which she laid great store.

But wasn't there such a thing as telepathy?
Isn't it supposed by some people that fortune-tellers simply see into the minds of those who come to them, and then arrange what they see there according to their fancy?
That, of course, would entirely account for all that the fortune-teller had said about her pearls.
Sylvia always felt a little uncomfortable when her pearls were not lying round her pretty neck.