“Not only, madame, will never kiss it again, but will never again see those he has just left,” said Cagliostro, looking attentively at the glass of water he was holding up.
A cry of astonishment burst from all. The interest of the conversation deepened every moment, and you might have thought, from the solemn and anxious air with which all regarded Cagliostro, that it was some ancient and infallible oracle they were consulting.
“Pray then, count,” said Madame Dubarry, “tell us what will befall poor La Pérouse.”
Cagliostro shook his head.
“Oh, yes, let us hear!” cried all the rest.
“Well, then, M. de la Pérouse intends, as you know, to make the tour of the globe, and continue the researches of poor Captain Cook, who was killed in the Sandwich Islands.”
“Yes, yes, we know.”
“Everything should foretell a happy termination to this voyage; M. de la Pérouse is a good seaman, and his route has been most skilfully traced by the king.”
“Yes,” interrupted Count Haga, “the King of France is a clever geographer; is he not, M. de Condorcet?”
“More skilful than is needful for a king,” replied the marquis; “kings ought to know things only slightly, then they will let themselves be guided by those who know them thoroughly.”