"Am I to tell to whom the letter was addressed?" inquired the seer.
"No, no, but you may write it."
The soothsayer took out his memorandum book fastening with a gilt clasp, and with a kind of pencil from which flowed ink, wrote on a leaf. Detaching this page, he presented it to the princess, who read:
"The letter was addressed to the marchioness of Pompadour, mistress of King Louis XV."
The dauphiness' astounded look rose upon this clearly speaking man, with pure and steady voice, who appeared to tower over her although he bowed lowly.
"All this is quite true," she admitted, "and though I am unaware how you could learn this secret, I am bound to allow, before all, that you speak true."
"Then I may retire upon this innocent proof of my science."
"Not so, my lord baron," said the princess, nettled; "the wiser you are, the more I long for your forecast. You have only spoken of the past, and I demand the future."
Her feverish agitation could not escape the bystanders.
"Let me at least consult the oracle, to learn whether the prediction may be revealed."