"What a very disagreeable thing to see this weather," said the Abbé—"everything shuddering and shaking!"
"Have you ever discovered why she goes about like the wife of a glazier?" asked the Prince.
"For a long time I could not make out what they could be, these large panes of glass with variegated colors passing through them; but now I think I know."
"Well?"
"They are dreams waiting to be fitted in."
"Bravo!" cried the Abbé. "That is really a good idea! If I had only the pen of Charles Nodier, what a charming feuilleton I could write about all this!"
Pomerantseff laid his hand affectionately on the Duke's shoulder. "Mon cher ami," he said with a grave smile, "believe me, you are wholly at fault in your speculations. Gérard here of course, naturally enough, since he has never been willing to 'sit,' thinks we are both madmen, and that the whole thing is folly; but you and I, who have sat and seen many marvellous manifestations, know that it is not folly. Take the word of a man who has had greater experience in the matter than yourself, and who is himself a most powerful medium: the theory you have just enunciated is utterly false."
"Prove that it is false."
"I cannot prove it, but wait and see."
"Nay; I have given it all up now. I will not meddle with spiritualism again. It unhinged my nerves and destroyed my peace of mind while I was investigating it."