All the persons who helped me in my magical operations with Madame d'Urfe betrayed me, Marcoline excepted, and all save the fair Venetian died miserably. Later on the reader will hear more of Possano and Costa.
The day before I left for London I supped with Madame du Rumain, who told me that her voice was already beginning to return. She added a sage reflection which pleased me highly.
"I should think," she observed, "that the careful living prescribed by the cabala must have a good effect on my health."
"Most certainly," said I, "and if you continue to observe the rules you will keep both your health and your voice."
I knew that it is often necessary to deceive before one can instruct; the shadows must come before the dawn.
I took leave of my worthy Madame d'Urfe with an emotion which I had never experienced before; it must have been a warning that I should never see her again. I assured her that I would faithfully observe all my promises, and she replied that her happiness was complete, and that she knew she owed it all to me. In fine, I took d'Aranda and his top-boots, which he was continually admiring, to my inn, whence we started in the evening, as he had begged me to travel by night. He was ashamed to be seen in a carriage dressed as a courier.
When we reached Abbeville he asked me where his mother was.
"We will see about it after dinner."
"But you can find out in a moment whether she is here or not?"
"Yes, but there is no hurry."