“Cazotte went on:  ’You, Monsieur de Nicolai, you will die on the scaffold; you, Monsieur Bailly, on the scaffold; you, Monsieur de Malesherbes, on the scaffold.  ‘Ah, God be thanked,’ exclaimed Roucher, ‘and what of I?’ Cazotte replied:  ‘You? you also will die on the scaffold.’  ‘Yes,’ replied Chamfort, ‘but when will all this happen?’ Cazotte answered:  ’Six years will not pass over, before all that I have said to you shall be accomplished.’  Here I (La Harpe) spoke, saying:  ’Here are some astonishing miracles, but you have not included me in your list.’  Cazotte answered me, saying:  ’But you will be there, as an equally extraordinary miracle; you will then be a Christian!’ Vehement exclamations on all sides followed this startling assertion.  ‘Ah!’ said Chamfort, ’I am conforted; if we shall perish only when La Harpe shall be a Christian, we are immortal;’

“Then observed Madame la Duchesse de Grammont:  ’As for that, we women, we are happy to be counted for nothing in these revolutions:  when I say for nothing, it is not that we do not always mix ourselves up with them a little; but it is a received maxim that they take no notice of us, and of our sex.’  ‘Your sex, ladies’ said Cazotte, ’your sex will not protect you this time; and you had far better meddle with nothing, for you will be treated entirely as men, without any difference whatever.’  ’But what, then, are you really telling us of Monsieur Cazotte?  You are preaching to us the end of the world.’  ’I know nothing on that subject; but what I do know is, that you Madame la Duchesse, will be conducted to the scaffold, you and many other ladies with you, in the cart of the executioner, and with your hands tied behind your backs.  ’Ah!  I hope that in that case, I shall at least have a carriage hung in black.’  ’No, madame; higher ladies than yourself will go, like you, in the common car, with their hands tied behind them.’  ‘Higher ladies! what! the princesses of the blood?’ ’Yea, and still more exalted personages!’ replied Cazotte.

“Here a sensible emotion pervaded the whole company, and the countenance of the host was dark and lowering—­they began to feel that the joke was becoming too serious.  Madame de Grammont, in order to dissipate the cloud, took no notice of the reply, and contented herself with saying in a careless tone:  ‘You see, that he will not leave me even a confessor!’ ’No, madame!’ replied Cazotte, ’you will not have one—­neither you, nor any one besides.  The last victim to whom this favor will be afforded will be—­’ Here he stopped for a moment.  ’Well! who then will be the happy mortal to whom this prerogative will be given?’ Cazotte replied:  ’It is the only one which he will have then retained—­and that will be the King of France!’” This last startling prediction caused the company to disband in something like terror and dismay, for the mere mention of such thing was akin to treason.