CHAPTER XIII

My Stay at Paris and My Departure for Strasburg, Where I Find the Renaud—­My Misfortunes at Munich and My Sad Visit to Augsburg

At ten o’clock in the morning, cheered by the pleasant feeling of being once more in that Paris which is so imperfect, but which is the only true town in the world, I called on my dear Madame d’Urfe, who received me with open arms.  She told me that the young Count d’Aranda was quite well, and if I liked she would ask him to dinner the next day.  I told her I should be delighted to see him, and then I informed her that the operation by which she was to become a man could not be performed till Querilinto, one of the three chiefs of the Fraternity of the Rosy Cross, was liberated from the dungeons of the Inquisition, at Lisbon.

“This is the reason,” I added, “that I am going to Augsburg in the course of next month, where I shall confer with the Earl of Stormont as to the liberation of the adept, under the pretext of a mission from the Portuguese Government.  For these purposes I shall require a good letter of credit, and some watches and snuff-boxes to make presents with, as we shall have to win over certain of the profane.”

“I will gladly see to all that, but you need not hurry yourself as the Congress will not meet till September.”

“Believe me, it will never meet at all, but the ambassadors of the belligerent powers will be there all the same.  If, contrary to my expectation, the Congress is held, I shall be obliged to go to Lisbon.  In any case, I promise to see you again in the ensuing winter.  The fortnight that I have to spend here will enable me to defeat a plot of St. Germain’s.”

“St. Germain—­he would never dare to return to Paris.”

“I am certain that he is here in disguise.  The state messenger who ordered him to leave London has convinced him the English minister was not duped by the demand for his person to be given up, made by the Comte d’Afri in the name of the king to the States-General.”

All this was mere guess-work, and it will be seen that I guessed rightly.

Madame d’Urfe then congratulated me on the charming girl whom I had sent from Grenoble to Paris.  Valenglard had told her the whole story.

“The king adores her,” said she, “and before long she will make him a father.  I have been to see her at Passi with the Duchesse de l’Oraguais.”

“She will give birth to a son who will make France happy, and in thirty years time you will see wondrous things, of which, unfortunately, I can tell you nothing until your transformation.  Did you mention my name to her?”

“No, I did not; but I am sure you will be able to see her, if only at Madame Varnier’s.”

She was not mistaken; but shortly afterwards an event happened which made the madness of this excellent woman much worse.