not a lass but believes in the decree of fate that it revels. Would
you like me to read your thoughts as you pull out these petals four by
four?"

"Come, then, O mighty magician!"

"A little, that is how some one loves you; much, that is how you love
him; passionately, that is how another loves you; not at all, thus do
you love this other."

"And might I inquire, Sir Oracle," replied Edmee, whose face became more
serious, "who some one and another may be? I suspect that you are like
the Pythonesses of old; you do not know the meaning of your auguries
yourself."

"Could you not guess mine, Edmee?"

"I will try to interpret the riddle, if you will promise that afterward
you will do what the Sphinx did when vanquished by OEdipus."

"Oh, Edmee," I cried; "think how long I have been running my head
against walls on account of you and your interpretations. And yet you
have not guessed right a single time."

"Oh, good heavens! I have," she said, throwing the bouquet on to the
mantel-piece. "You shall see. I love M. de la Marche a little, and I
love you much. He loves me passionately, and you love me not at all.
That is the truth."

"I forgive you this malicious interpretation with all my heart for the