I was taken into the room directly, and though her eyes were half closed she thanked me for awaking her, while I apologized for having disturbed her sleep.

“Raton,” said she, “give us the writing materials, and go away.  Don’t come till I call you, and if anyone asks for me, I am asleep.”

“Very good, madam, and I will go to sleep also.”

“My dear M. Casanova, how is it that the oracle has deceived us?  M. du Rumain is still alive, and he ought to have died six months ago.  It is true that he is not well, but we will not go into all that again.  The really important question is this:  You know that music is my favourite pursuit, and that my voice is famous for its strength and compass; well, I have completely lost it.  I have not sung a note for three months.  The doctors have stuffed me with remedies which have had no effect:  It makes me very unhappy, for singing was the one thing that made me cling to life.  I entreat you to ask the oracle how I can recover my voice.  How delighted I should be if I could sing by to-morrow.  I have a great many people coming here, and I should enjoy the general astonishment.  If the oracle wills it I am sure that it might be so, for I have a very strong chest.  That is my question; it is a long one, but so much the better; the answer will be long too, and I like long answers.”

I was of the same opinion, for when the question was a long one, I had time to think over the answer as I made the pyramid.  Madame Rumain’s complaint was evidently something trifling, but I was no physician, and knew nothing about medicine.  Besides, for the honour of the cabala, the oracle must have nothing to do with mere empiric remedies.  I soon made up my mind that a little care in her way of living would soon restore the throat to its normal condition, and any doctor with brains in his head could have told her as much.  In the position I was in, I had to make use of the language of a charlatan, so I resolved on prescribing a ceremonial worship to the sun, at an hour which would insure some regularity in her mode of life.

The oracle declared that she would recover her voice in twenty-one days, reckoning from the new moon, if she worshipped the rising sun every morning, in a room which had at least one window looking to the east.

A second reply bade her sleep seven hours in succession before she sacrificed to the sun, each hour symbolizing one of the seven planets; and before she went to sleep she was to take a bath in honour of the moon, placing her legs in lukewarm water up to the knees.  I then pointed out the psalms which she was to recite to the moon, and those which she was to say in the face of the rising sun, at a closed window.

This last direction filled her with admiration, “for,” said she, “the oracle knew that I should catch cold if the window were open.  I will do everything the oracle bids me,” added the credulous lady, “but I hope you will get me everything necessary for the ceremonies”