"See," said Valenglard, "how the ways of destiny are made plain. You talk
of a hundred louis; twelve will be sufficient to take you to Madame
Varnier's. When you get there, leave the rest to your fate, which will
surely favour you."

"If you do go to Paris," said I, "say nothing to Madame Roman or Madame
Varnier about the horoscope."

"I will say nothing to anyone about it; but, after all, it is only a
happy dream. I shall never see Paris, still less Louis XV."

I arose, and going to my cash-box I took out a roll of a hundred and
fifty louis, which I gave to her, saying it was a packet of sweetmeats.
It felt rather heavy, and on opening it she found it to contain fifty
pieces-of-eight, which she took for medals.

"They are gold," said Valenglard.

"And the goldsmith will give you a hundred and fifty louis for them,"
added M. Morin.

"I beg you will keep them; you can give me a bill payable at Paris when
you become rich."

I knew she would refuse to accept my present, although I should have been
delighted if she had kept the money. But I admired her strength of mind
in restraining her tears, and that without disturbing for a moment the
smile on her face.