there is a black mark—distresses.
A man becomes a comforter. Here, in this corner,
are friends, who support you. Ah! who is he
that persecutes them? But justice triumphs—after
rain, sunshine—a long journey successful.
There, do you see these little bags? That is
money which has been paid—to you, of course,
I mean. That is well. Do you see that arm?”—“Yes.”—“That
is an arm supporting something: a woman veiled;
I see her; it is you. All this is clear to me.
I hear, as it were, a voice speaking to me.
You are no longer attacked. I see it, because
the clouds in that direction are passed off (pointing
to a clearer spot). But, stay—I see
small lines which branch out from the main spot.
These are sons, daughters, nephews—that
is pretty well.” She appeared overpowered
with the effort she was making. At length, she
added, “That is all. You have had good
luck first—misfortune afterward. You
have had a friend, who has exerted himself with success
to extricate you from it. You have had lawsuits—at
length fortune has been reconciled to you, and will
change no more.” She drank another glass
of wine. “Your health, Madame,” said
she to the Marquise, and went through the same ceremonies
with the cup. At length, she broke out, “Neither
fair nor foul. I see there, in the distance,
a serene sky; and then all these things that appear
to ascend all these things are applauses. Here
is a grave man, who stretches out his arms. Do
you see?—look attentively.”—“That
is true,” said Madame de Pompadour, with surprise
(there was, indeed, some appearance of the kind).
“He points to something square that is an open
coffer. Fine weather. But, look! there
are clouds of azure and gold, which surround you.
Do you see that ship on the high sea? How favourable
the wind is! You are on board; you land in a
beautiful country, of which you become the Queen.
Ah! what do I see? Look there—look
at that hideous, crooked, lame man, who is pursuing
you—but he is going on a fool’s errand.
I see a very great man, who supports you in his arms.
Here, look! he is a kind of giant. There is
a great deal of gold and silver—a few clouds
here and there. But you have nothing to fear.
The vessel will be sometimes tossed about, but it
will not be lost. Dixi.” Madame said,
“When shall I die, and of what disease?”—“I
never speak of that,” said she; “see here,
rather but fate will not permit it. I will shew
you how fate confounds everything”—shewing
her several confused lumps of the coffee-dregs.
“Well, never mind as to the time, then, only
tell me the kind of death.” The fortune-teller
looked in the cup, and said, “You will have
time to prepare yourself.” I gave her only
two Louis, to avoid doing anything remarkable.
She left us, after begging us to keep her secret,
and we rejoined the Duc de Gontaut, to whom we related
everything that had passed. He laughed heartily,
and said, “Her coffee-dregs are like the clouds—you
may see what you please in them.”