This naive observation was greeted with a merry peal of laughter.
The princess continued her prophecies; she painted for each one a pleasant and flattering future. She now turned to Madame Morien, still smiling, still playing with the glass.
"Well, and your name, my dear Madame Morien?" said she, looking into the glass which she held clasped in her fingers.
"She is called 'Le Tourbillon,'" exclaimed the prince royal, laughing.
"Antoinette, Louise, Albertine, are my names," said Madame Morien, hesitatingly.
The princess royal breathed free, and raised her eyes from the glass to the beautiful Morien.
"These are too many names to prophesy by," said she. "By what name are you called?"
Madame Morien hesitated; the other ladies, better acquainted with the little mysteries of Tourbillon than the princess, divined that this question of the princess and the embarrassment of Madame Morien betokened something extraordinary, and awaited attentively the reply of this beautiful woman. A momentary pause ensued. Suddenly Mademoiselle Schwerin broke out in laughter.
"Well," said she, "have you forgotten your name, Madame Morien? Do you not know that you are called Leontine?"
"Leontine?" exclaimed the princess, and her fingers closed so tightly on the glass which she held in her hand, that it crushed, and drew from her a sharp cry of pain.