We arranged ourselves, four in all, around a little table of light wood. Scarcely a minute has passed when the little table seems to be taken with trembling, and almost immediately it rises and then falls back. This vertical movement is repeated several times in the full light of the lamps of the salon.
The next day the same levitation occurred in broad daylight, at noon, while we were waiting for a guest who was late to luncheon. This time the round table used was much heavier.
"Is there a spirit there?" some one asks.
"Yes."
"Is he willing to give his name?"
"Yes."
Someone takes an alphabet, counts the letters, and receives, by taps made by one of the feet of the table, the name Léopoldine Hugo.
"Have you something to say to us?"
"Charles, my husband, would like to be reunited to me."
"But where is he?"