“No, sir, no indeed. She does it in perfect good faith; she believes, she imagines”—I sought in vain for what the countess might imagine, when Zéphyrine added with an effort—“In fact, sir, my poor mistress believes in spirits!”
“Well, granted,” I replied. “She is not the only person of her sex and age who entertains the same belief; and, it certainly does harm to no one.”
“But it sometimes causes evil to those who fear them, and if monsieur should be afraid of anything in this apartment, I can assure him that nothing ever reappears here.”
“So much the worse, I would have been very pleased to see something supernatural. Ghosts are part of all old manors and this one is so handsome that I would only have imagined very agreeable phantoms.”
“Really, monsieur has then heard something spoken of?”
“In regard to this castle and this apartment, never. I am waiting for you to tell me about it.”
“Well, monsieur, this is the story: In the year—I can’t remember—but it was in the reign of Henri II, monsieur must know better than I when that was, there lived here three young ladies of the d’Ionis family, beautiful as the day, and so amiable that they were adored by everybody. A wicked court lady who was jealous of them, and of the youngest in particular, caused some poison to be placed in the water of a fountain from which they drank and which was used in making their bread. All three died the same night, and as they pretend to say, in the room where we now are. But this is not by any means certain and no one ever imagined such a thing until lately. To be sure they were in the habit of telling a story in the country of three white ladies who had shown themselves for a long time in the castle and in the gardens; but it was so old that no one thought of it any more, and no one believed it, when one of the friends of the family, M. l’abbé de Lamyre, who is an esprit gai and a good talker, having slept in this room, dreamed or pretended to have dreamed of three green ladies who had appeared and prophesied before him. And as he saw that his dream interested madame the dowager, and diverted the young countess, her daughter-in-law, he invented whatever he pleased and made his ghosts talk according to his fancy so well, that madame the dowager is persuaded that the future of the family and that of the law suit, which is tormenting M. le comte, might be revealed by causing these phantoms to reappear and speak. But, as all the persons who have lodged here have seen nothing at all, and have simply laughed at her, she has resolved to put only those here who not having been forewarned would not think of inventing apparitions or of concealing those that they might have seen. This is why she has ordered you to be put in this room without saying anything to you, but as madame is not very—clever, perhaps, she has not been able to keep herself from speaking to me of the three loaves in your presence.”
“To be sure, the three loaves and the three carafes have given me some subject of thought. Nevertheless, I confess that absolutely I can discover no connection whatever.”
“Oh, yes, monsieur, the three ladies of the time of Henri II were poisoned by bread and water.”
“There I see the connection very plainly, but I do not understand how this offering, if it is one, should be agreeable to them. What do you think of it yourself?”