“Incredulity is better than misery.”
“M. de Cagliostro,” said the count, gravely, “you forget one thing, which is, that though there are men who had better remain ignorant of their destiny, there are others who should know it, as it concerns not themselves alone, but millions of others.”
“Then,” said Cagliostro, “command me; if your majesty commands, I will obey.”
“I command you to reveal to me my destiny, M. de Cagliostro,” said the king, with an air at once courteous and dignified.
At this moment, as Count Haga had dropped his incognito in speaking to Cagliostro, M. de Richelieu advanced towards him, and said, “Thanks, sire, for the honor you have done my house; will your majesty assume the place of honor?”
“Let us remain as we are, marshal; I wish to hear what M. de Cagliostro is about to say.”
“One does not speak the truth to kings, sire.”
“Bah! I am not in my kingdom; take your place again, duke. Proceed, M. de Cagliostro, I beg.”
Cagliostro looked again through his glass, and one might have imagined the particles agitated by this look, as they danced in, the light. “Sire,” said he, “tell me what you wish to know?”
“Tell me by what death I shall die.”