"Mother," said he, in a low, husky voice, "the soothsayer La Voisin has been arrested."
"Ah! what else?" asked the countess, with perfect composure.
"Her house is guarded, every corner has been searched, and her papers have all been seized."
"And what else?" repeated the countess.
Her son looked up, and a ray of hope shot athwart his pale and anxious face. "Nothing is talked of in Paris," continued he, "but the strange revelations connected with her arrest. It is said that she not only drew the horoscope of those who were accustomed to visit her, and gave them philters, but—but—"
"But," echoed the countess as her son paused.
"But that she prepared secret poisons, one of which, called 'La poudre de succession,' was specially designed for the use of those who wished to remove an inconvenient relative."
This time the countess was silent; her brow contracted, and she shivered perceptibly.
An involuntary cry burst from the lips of her son, which recalled her to a sense of her imprudence.
"What ails you?" asked she, abruptly. "Have you seen a ghost, that you cry out in a voice so unearthly?"