In spite of her immense fortune and her belief in her ability to make gold, Madame d’Urfe was miserly in her habits, for she never spent more than thirty thousand francs in a year, and she invested her savings in the exchange, and in this way had nearly doubled them.  A brother used to buy her in Government securities at their lowest rate and sell at their rise, and in this manner, being able to wait for their rise, and fall, she had amassed a considerable sum.

She had told me more than once that she would give all she possessed to become a man, and that she knew I could do this for her if I would.  One day, as she was speaking to me on this subject in a tone of persuasion almost irresistible, I told her that I must confess I had the power to do what she wanted, but that I could not make up my mind to perform the operation upon her as I should have to kill her first.  I thought this would effectually check her wish to go any further, but what was my surprise to hear her say,

“I know that, and what is more I know the death I shall have to die; but for all that I am ready.”

“What, then, is that death, madam?”

“It is by the same poison which killed Paracelsus.”

“Do you think that Paracelsus obtained the hypostasis?”

“No, but I know the reason of his not doing so.”

“What is the reason?”

“It is that he was neither man or woman, and a composite nature is incapable of the hypostasis, to obtain which one must be either the one or the other.”

“Very true, but do you know how to make the poison, and that the thing is impossible without the aid of a salamander?”

“That may or may not be!  I beseech you to enquire of the oracle whether there be anyone in Paris in possession of this potion.”

It was easy to see that she thought herself in possession of it, so I had no hesitation in extracting her name from the oracular pyramid.  I pretended to be astonished at the answer, but she said boastfully,

“You see that all we want is a male child born of an immortal.  This, I am advised, will be provided by you; and I do not think you will be found wanting out of a foolish pity for this poor old body of mine.”

At these words I rose and went to the window, where I stayed for more than a quarter of an hour reflecting on her infatuation.  When I returned to the table where she was seated she scanned my features attentively, and said, with much emotion, “Can it be done, my dear friend?  I see that you have been weeping.”

I did not try to undeceive her, and, taking my sword and hat, I took leave of her sadly.  Her carriage, which was always at my disposal, was at the door, and I drove to the Boulevards, where I walked till the evening, wondering all the while at the extraordinary fantasies of the marchioness.

My brother had been made a member of the Academy, on the exhibition of a battle piece which had taken all the critics by storm.  The picture was purchased by the Academy for five hundred louis.