nd beauty you can win
a glorious future! Remember the Marquise de Pompadour, neglected and
scorned as you, until a king loved her, and she became the wife of a
king, and all France bowed down to her. Even the Empress Maria Theresa
honored her with her notice, and called her cousin. I am also the
favorite of a future king, and I will also become the queen of my king!"

Wilhelmine had remained standing in the midst of the great drawing-room,
which she was passing through, listening to these seductive voices, to
these strange pictures of the future. In her imagination she saw herself
in this room surrounded with splendor and magnificence, and sparkling
with gems. She saw around her elegantly-attired ladies and gentlemen,
in brilliant uniforms, glittering with orders; saw every-where smiling
faces, and respectful manners. She saw all eyes turned to her, and heard
only flattering words, which resounded for her from every lip--for her,
once so despised and scorned! "It shall be, yes, it shall be," cried
she aloud. "I will be the queen of my king! I will become the Prussian
Marquise de Pompadour; that I swear by the heads of my children, by--"

"Rather swear by thy own beautiful head, Wilhelmine," said a voice
behind her. Startled, she turned, and beheld the tall figure of a man,
wrapped in a long cloak, who stood in the open door.

"Who are you?" she cried, amazed. "How dare you enter here?"

The figure closed the door, without answering, and, slowly approaching
Wilhelmine, fixed his black eyes upon her with a searching gaze.
She tried to summon help, but the words died on her lips; her cheeks
blanched with terror, and, as if rooted to the floor, she stood with
outstretched arms imploring the approaching form. The figure smiled,
but there was something commanding in its manner, and in the fiery eyes,
which rested upon her. When quite near her, it raised its right hand
with an impatient movement. Immediately her arms fell at her side, her
cheeks glowed, and a bright smile lighted up her face. Then it lifted
the three-cornered, gold-bordered hat which shaded its face, nodding to
her.

"Do you recognize me, Wilhelmine?" he asked, in a sweet, melodious
voice.

"Yes," she answered, her eyes still fixed upon him. "You are Cagliostro,
the great ruler and magician."

"Where did we meet?"

"I remember; it was in Paris, at the house of the governor of the
Bastile, M. Delaunay. You caused me to read in a glass the future--a
br