The conversation, as well as the pretty eyes of the niece, began to
interest me, but fortunately the uncle put an end to it by begging me to
follow him. He took me to the maid's room, and I found her putting on a
petticoat, and grumbling the while.

"What is the matter, my pretty maid? You don't seem to be in a good
humour."

"You would have done better to come at noon; it is not nine o'clock yet,
and madame did not come home till three o'clock this morning. I am just
going to wake her, and I am sorry for her."

I was taken into the room directly, and though her eyes were half closed
she thanked me for awaking her, while I apologized for having disturbed
her sleep.

"Raton," said she, "give us the writing materials, and go away. Don't
come till I call you, and if anyone asks for me, I am asleep."

"Very good, madam, and I will go to sleep also."

"My dear M. Casanova, how is it that the oracle has deceived us? M. du
Rumain is still alive, and he ought to have died six months ago. It is
true that he is not well, but we will not go into all that again. The
really important question is this: You know that music is my favourite
pursuit, and that my voice is famous for its strength and compass; well,
I have completely lost it. I have not sung a note for three months. The
doctors have stuffed me with remedies which have had no effect: It makes
me very unhappy, for singing was the one thing that made me cling to