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Updated: June 7, 2025
It is not my business to do so. But I should have been a wicked woman had I not done so this time. That is why I called you back." "Is it because of something you have seen in the cards that you tender us this advice?" asked Anna curiously. But Madame Cagliostra again looked strangely frightened. "No, no!" she said hastily. "I repeat that the cards told me nothing. The cards were a blank.
Nay more, Anna Wolsky had become it was really rather odd that it should be so the first intimate friend of her own sex Sylvia had made since she was a grown-up woman. "I do believe in fortune-tellers," said Madame Wolsky deliberately, "and that being so I shall spend my afternoon in going up to Montmartre, to the Rue Jolie, to hear what this Cagliostra has to say.
"Of course I don't mind your being here!" cried Sylvia Bailey, laughing then, looking doubtfully at Madame Cagliostra, though it was obvious the Frenchwoman did not understand English, "The truth is that I should feel rather frightened if you were to leave me here all by myself. So please stay." Madame Cagliostra began dealing out the cards on the table.
She took this stout, untidily-dressed woman for the fortune-teller's servant. "Madame Cagliostra, at your service!" The woman turned round, her face breaking into a broad smile. She evidently liked the sound of her peculiar name. They followed her up a dark staircase into a curious little sitting-room.
Although it was pink, it looked more like a visiting-card than a tradesman's advertisement, and she took it up with some curiosity. It was inscribed "Madame Cagliostra," and underneath the name were written the words "Diseuse de la Bonne Aventure," and then, in a corner, in very small black letters, the address, "5, Rue Jolie, Montmartre." A fortune-teller's card? What an extraordinary thing!
On the morning after her visit to Madame Cagliostra, Sylvia Bailey woke later than usual. She had had a disturbed night, and it was pleasant to feel that she could spend a long restful day doing nothing, or only taking part in one of the gay little expeditions which make Paris to a stranger the most delightful of European capitals.
Now, at last, Madame Cagliostra was justifying her claim to a supernatural gift! "These balls of light are also your Fate!" exclaimed the woman impetuously. "If you had them here I care not what they be I should entreat you to give them to me to throw away." Madame Wolsky began to laugh. "I don't think you would do that," she observed drily.
"No," said Madame Cagliostra dully. "I must have the other lady here, too. You must both be present to hear what I have to say." Anna went to the door and called out, "Come up Sylvia! She wants to see us both together." There was a thrill of excitement, of eager expectancy in Madame Wolsky's voice; and Sylvia, surprised, ran up again into the little room, now full of light, sun, and air.
For a few moments they were in complete darkness, and Sylvia felt a queer, eerie sensation of fear, but this soon passed away as the lamp the "Suspension," as Madame Cagliostra proudly called it was lit. When her lamp was well alight, the soothsayer drew three chairs up to the round table, and motioned the two strangers to sit down.
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