“Countess, you have brought me luck; I shall not be ungrateful.” And they separated.
The cardinal was full of happy dreams: the queen had received him kindly. He would place himself at the head of her party, and make it a popular one; he would protect her, and for her sake would abandon his slothful life, and live an active one.
As soon as he arrived at his hotel, he commenced burning a box full of love-letters; then he called his steward to order some economical reforms, and sat down to his history of English politics. Soon he heard a ring, and a servant entered to announce the person who had written to him that morning.
“Ask his name,” said the cardinal.
The man, having inquired, returned and said:
“M. le Comte de Cagliostro.”
“Let him come in.”
The count entered.
“Mon Dieu!” cried the cardinal, “is it possible? Joseph Balsamo, who was supposed to have perished in the flames?”
“Yes, monseigneur, more alive than ever.”