Camille, Madame de Polignac, and M.de Melfort were the only persons who knew that I was the oracle of the duchess, and I enjoyed my success.

But the next day a few pimples reappeared on her beautiful complexion, and I received an order to repair at once to the Palais-Royal.
The valet, who did not know me, shewed me into a delightful boudoir near a closet in which there was a bath.

The duchess came in; she looked sad, for she had several small pimples on the forehead and the chin.

She held in her hand a question for the oracle, and as it was only a short one I thought it would give her the pleasure of finding the answer by herself.
The numbers translated by the princess reproached her with having transgressed the regimen prescribed; she confessed to having drunk some liquors and eaten some ham; but she was astounded at having found that answer herself, and she could not understand how such an answer could result from an agglomeration of numbers.

At that moment, one of her women came in to whisper a few words to her; she told her to wait outside, and turning towards me, she said, "Have you any objection to seeing one of your friends who is as delicate as discreet ?" With these words, she hastily concealed in her pocket all the papers which did not relate to her disease; then she called out.
A man entered the room, whom I took for a stableboy; it was M.de Melfort.
"See," said the princess to him, "M.