The woman with the white hair bent over the charts again. And then she caught up a pencil and made little signs on the yellow paper and drew a triangle through them and across them at the points.
"The fourth day of the second month from now, Madame."
The great lady came back to the table and stood there looking down.
"How do you do it?"
The woman with the white hair stared up in astonishment.
"Madame?"
The great lady's ringed fingers spread out, pale and taut at her sides. The jewels of the rings showed in dark, glistening stains against the white of her skin.
"What you've just told me—all of it. I don't see how you know—how you can know. It's true. I can't understand how it can be true. But it is. Every word of it."
The woman with the white hair fingered her pencil a bit wearily.
"But—of course, Madame."