hen he is pressed to say that he spoke at your request
and to your pattern. But for your Majesty's own letters I should
not have ventured to be a dissenter from the received opinion; if
you bid me, at any moment I will gladly renounce my heresy and
embrace the orthodox faith. Meanwhile I am wondering what imp
holds sway in Wetter's brain; and I am laughing a little at this
new example of the eternal antagonism between what is the truth
and what is thought to be the truth. If mankind ever stumbled on
absolute naked verity, what the devil would they make of it? By
the way, I hear that Coralie is to make her _debut_ in Paris in a
week or two. She being now reputably impresarioed, the Sempachs
have shown her some civility. I told Wetter this when I last ran
against him at the club. He raised his brows, twisted his lips,
scratched his chin, looked full in my face and said with a smile,
'My dear Vicomte, Madame Mansoni is passionately attached to her
husband. They are ideal lovers.' Your Majesty shall interpret, if
it be your pleasure. I leave the matter alone."

This fellow Wetter was very impertinent with his speeches and his
parallels. But, good heavens, he had eyes to see! Madame Mansoni and her
impresario were ideal lovers! Surely the world was grown young again!
Elsa also made her _debut_ in a few weeks; I was her impresario. And she
was passionately attached to her impresario! I lay back in my chair,
laughing and wishing with all my heart that I could have a talk with
Wetter.

CHAPTER XXI.

ON THE ART OF FALLING SOFT.

The economy of belief which wisdom practices forbids us to embrace
fanciful theories where commonly observed facts will serve our turn.
They talk now about strange communications of mind to mind, my thought
speaking to yours a thousand miles away. Perhaps; or perhaps there is a
new fashion in ghost stories. In any case there was no need of these
speculations to account for Wetter being near me at the very time when I
was longing for his presence. From the moment I read his speech I knew
that he was thinking of me; that my doings were stuff for his
meditations; that his mind entered into mine, read its secrets, and was
audience to all its scenes. Is not the desire to meet, at least to see,
the natural sequence of such an interest and such a pre-occupation?
Given the wish, what was simpler than its gratification? He