The act was consummated in form, and then Madame d’Urfe left us alone for the rest of the night, which was well employed.  Afterwards, the countess slept with her aunt till the last day of the moon, when I asked the oracle if the Countess Lascaris had conceived.  That well might be, for I had spared nothing to that intent; but I thought it more prudent to make the oracle reply that the operation had failed because the small Count d’Aranda had watched us behind a screen.  Madame d’Urfe was in despair, but I consoled her by a second reply, in which the oracle declared that though the operation could only be performed in France in April, it could take place out of that realm in May; but the inquisitive young count, whose influence had proved so fatal, must be sent for at least a year to some place a hundred leagues from Paris.  The oracle also indicated the manner in which he was to travel; he was to have a tutor, a servant, and all in order.

The oracle had spoken, and no more was wanted.  Madame d’Urfe thought of an abbe she liked for his tutor, and the count was sent to Lyons, with strong letters of commendation to M. de Rochebaron, a relation of his patroness.  The young man was delighted to travel, and never had any suspicion of the way in which I had slandered him.  It was not a mere fancy which suggested this course of action.  I had discovered that the Corticelli was making up to him, and that her mother favoured the intrigue.  I had surprised her twice in the young man’s room, and though he only cared for the girl as a youth cares for all girls, the Signora Laura did not at all approve of my opposing her daughter’s designs.

Our next task was to fix on some foreign town where we could again attempt the mysterious operation.  We settled on Aix-la-Chapelle, and in five or six days all was ready for the journey.

The Corticeili, angry with me for having thwarted her in her projects, reproached me bitterly, and from that time began to be my enemy; she even allowed herself to threaten me if I did not get back the pretty boy, as she called him.

“You have no business to be jealous,” said she, “and I am the mistress of my own actions.”

“Quite right, my dear,” I answered; “but it is my business to see that you do not behave like a prostitute in your present position.”

The mother was in a furious rage, and said that she and her daughter would return to Bologna, and to quiet them I promised to take them there myself as soon as we had been to Aix-la-Chapelle.

Nevertheless I did not feel at ease, and to prevent any plots taking place I hastened our departure.