The line of argument holds good in all cases except when the misfortunes are predicted in a horoscope; for either the ills predicted are avoidable, in which case the horoscope is a useless piece of folly, or else the horoscope is the interpreter of destiny, in which case all the precautions in the world are of no avail.  The Chevalier Farsetti was therefore a fool to imagine he had proved anything at all.  He would have proved a good deal for many people if he had gone out on a Friday, and had chanced to have been assassinated.  Picas de la Mirandola, who believed in astrology, says, “I have no doubt truly, ’Astra influunt, non cogunt.’” But would it have been a real proof of the truth of astrology, if Farsetti had been assassinated on a Friday?  In my opinion, certainly not.

The Comte d’Eigreville had introduced me to his sister, the Comtesse du Remain, who had been wanting to make my acquaintance ever since she had heard of my oracle.  It was not long before I made friends with her husband and her two daughters, the elder of whom, nicknamed “Cotenfau,” married M. de Polignac later on.  Madame du Remain was handsome rather than pretty, but she won the love of all by her kindness, her frank courtesy, and her eagerness to be of service to her friends.  She had a magnificent figure, and would have awed the whole bench of judges if she had pleaded before them.

At her house I got to know Mesdames de Valbelle and de Rancerolles, the Princess de Chimai, and many others who were then in the best society of Paris.  Although Madame du Remain was not a proficient in the occult sciences, she had nevertheless consulted my oracle more frequently than Madame d’Urfe.  She was of the utmost service to me in connection with an unhappy circumstance of which I shall speak presently.

The day after my long conversation with Mdlle.  X. C. V., my servant told me that there was a young man waiting who wanted to give me a letter with his own hands.  I had him in, and on my asking him from whom the letter came, he replied that I should find all particulars in the letter, and that he had orders to wait for an answer.  The epistle ran as follows: 

“I am writing this at two o’clock in the morning.  I am weary and in need of rest, but a burden on my soul deprives me of sleep.  The secret I am about to tell you will no longer be so grievous when I have confided in you; I shall feel eased by placing it in your breast.  I am with child, and my situation drives me to despair.  I was obliged to write to you because I felt I could not say it.  Give me a word in reply.”

My feelings on reading the above may be guessed.  I was petrified with astonishment and could only write, “I will be with you at eleven o’clock.”