asily
managed; but at the second glass which I offered to my neighbor the
lawyer, he told me with the frigid politeness of a usurer that he should
drink no more.

At this instant Madame de Saint-James chanced to introduce, I
scarcely know how, the topic of the marvellous suppers to the Comte
de Cagliostro, given by the Cardinal de Rohan. My mind was not very
attentive to what the mistress of the house was saying, because I was
watching with extreme curiosity the pinched and livid face of my little
neighbor, whose principal feature was a turned-up and at the same
time pointed nose, which made him, at times, look very like a weasel.
Suddenly his cheeks flushed as he caught the words of a dispute between
Madame de Saint-James and Monsieur de Calonne.

"But I assure you, monsieur," she was saying, with an imperious air,
"that I _saw_ Cleopatra, the queen."

"I can believe it, madame," said my neighbor, "for I myself have spoken
to Catherine de' Medici."

"Oh! oh!" exclaimed Monsieur de Calonne.

The words uttered by the little provincial were said in a voice of
strange sonorousness, if I may be permitted to borrow that expression
from the science of physics. This sudden clearness of intonation, coming
from a man who had hitherto scarcely spoken, and then in a low and
modulated tone, surprised all present exceedingly.

"Why, he is talking!" said the surgeon, who was now in a satisfactory
state of drunkenness, addressing Beaumarchais.

"His neighbor must have pulled his wires," replied the satirist.

My man flushed again as he overheard the words, though they were said in
a low voice.

"And pray, how was the late queen?" asked Calonne, jestingly.

"I will not swear that the person with whom I supped last night at the
house of the Cardinal de Rohan was Catherine de' Medici in person.
That miracle would justly seem impossible to Christians as well as to
philosophers," said the little lawyer, resting the tips of his fingers
on the table, and leaning back in his chair as if preparing to make
a speech. "Nevertheless, I do assert that the woman I saw resembled
Catherine de' Medici as closely as though they were twin-sisters. She
was dressed in a black velvet gown, precisely like that of the queen in
the well-known portrait which belongs to the king; on her head was the
pointed velvet coif, which is characteristic of her; and she had the
wan complexion, and the features we all know well. I could not help
betraying my su