beside the divine
Anael."

"That's the genius of Venus. Did he squint?"

"To excess. You are aware, then, that he squints?"

"Yes, and I know that at the amorous crisis he ceases to squint."

"I did not notice that. He too, left me on account of my sinning with an
Arab."

"The Arab was sent to you by an enemy of Anael's, the genius of Mercury."

"It must have been so; it was a great misfortune."

"On the contrary, it rendered you more fit for transformation."

We were walking towards the carriage when all at once we saw St. Germain,
but as soon as he noticed us he turned back and we lost sight of him.

"Did you see him?" said I. "He is working against us, but our genie makes
him tremble."

"I am quite thunderstruck. I will go and impart this piece of news to the
Duc de Choiseul to-morrow morning. I am curious to hear what he will say
when I tell him."

As we were going back to Paris I left Madame d'Urfe, and walked to the
Porte St. Denis to see my brother. He and his wife received me with cries
of joy. I thought the wife very pretty but very wretched, for Providence
had not allowed my brother to prove his manhood, and she was unhappily in
love with him. I say unhappily, because her love kept her faithful to
him, and if she had not been in love she might easily have found a cure
for her misfortune as her husband allowed her perfect liberty. She
grieved bitterly, for she did not know that my brother was impotent, and
fancied that the reason of his abstention was that he did not return her
love; and the mistake was an excusable one, for he was like a Hercules,
and indeed he was one, except where it was most to be desired. Her grief
threw her into a consumption of which she died five or six years later.
She did not mean her death to be a punishment to her husband, but we
shall see that it was so.

The next day I called on Madame Varnier to give her Madame Morin's
letter. I was cordially welcomed, and Madame Varnier was kind enough to
say that she had rather see me than anybody else in the world; her niece
had told her such strange things about me that she had got quite curious.
This, as is well known, is a prevailing complaint with women.

"You shall see my niece," she said, "and she will tell you all about
herself."

She wrote her a note, and put Madame Morin's letter under the same
envelope.

"If you want to know what my niece's answer is," said Madame Varnier,
"you must dine with me."

I accepted th