"Five or six years," said the marshal; "you might almost as well say five or six centuries; days are years at my age, therefore I say, adieu."
"Bah! ask the sorcerer," returned La Pérouse, still laughing; "he will promise you twenty years' more life. Will you not, Count Cagliostro? Oh, count, why did I not hear sooner of those precious drops of yours? Whatever the price, I should have shipped a tun. Madame, another kiss of that beautiful hand, I shall certainly not see such another till I return; au revoir," and he left the room.
Cagliostro still preserved the same mournful silence. They heard the steps of the captain as he left the house, his gay voice in the courtyard, and his farewells to the people assembled to see him depart. Then the horses shook their heads, covered with bells, the door of the carriage shut with some noise, and the wheels were heard rolling along the street.
La Pérouse had started on that voyage from which he was destined never to return.
When they could no longer hear a sound, all looks were again turned to Cagliostro; there seemed a kind of inspired light in his eyes.
Count Haga first broke the silence, which had lasted for some minutes. "Why did you not reply to his question?" he inquired of Cagliostro.
Cagliostro started, as if the question had roused him from a reverie. "Because," said he, "I must either have told a falsehood or a sad truth."
"How so?"
"I must have said to him—'M. de la Pérouse, the duke is right in saying to you adieu, and not au revoir.'"
"Oh," said Richelieu, turning pale, "what do you mean?"
"Reassure yourself, marshal, this sad prediction does not concern you."
"What," cried Madame Dubarry, "this poor La Pérouse, who has just kissed my hand——"
"Not only, madame, will never kiss it again, but will never again see those he has just left," said Cagliostro, looking attentively at the glass of water he was holding up.
A cry of astonishment burst from all. The interest of the conversation deepened every moment, and you might have thought, from the solemn and anxious air with which all regarded Cagliostro, that it was some ancient and infallible oracle they were consulting.
"Pray then, count," said Madame Dubarry, "tell us what will befall poor La Pérouse."
Cagliostro shook his head.
"Oh, yes, let us hear!" cried all the rest.
"Well, then, M. de la Pérouse intends, as you know, to make the tour of the globe, and continue the researches of poor Captain Cook, who was killed in the Sandwich Islands."
"Yes, yes, we know."
"Everything should foretell a happy termination to this voyage; M. de la Pérouse is a good seaman, and his route has been most skilfully traced by the king."
"Yes," interrupted Count Haga, "the King of France is a clever geographer; is he not, M. de Condorcet?"
"More skilful than is needful for a king," replied the marquis; "kings ought to know things only slightly, then they will let themselves be guided by those who know them thoroughly."
"Is this a lesson, marquis?" said Count Haga, smiling.
"Oh, no. Only a simple reflection, a general truth."
"Well, he is gone," said Madame Dubarry, anxious to bring the conversation back to La Pérouse.
"Yes, he is gone," replied Cagliostro, "but don't believe, in spite of his haste, that he will soon embark. I foresee much time lost at Brest."
"That would be a pity," said De Condorcet; "this is the time to set out: it is even now rather late—February or March would have been better."
"Oh, do not grudge him these few months, M. de Condorcet, for, during them, he will at least live and hope."
"He has got good officers, I suppose?" said Richelieu.
"Yes, he who commands the second ship is a distinguished officer. I see him— young, adventurous, brave, unhappily."
"Why unhappily?"
"A year after I look for him, and see him no more," said Cagliostro, anxiously consulting his glass. "No one here is related to M. de Langle?"
"No."
"No one knows him?"
"No."
"Well, death will commence with him."
A murmur of affright escaped from all the guests.
"But he, La Pérouse?" cried several voices.
"He sails, he lands, he reembarks; I see one, two years, of successful navigation; we hear news of him, and then——"
"Then?"
"Years pass——"
"But at last?"
"The sea is vast, the heavens are clouded, here and there appear unknown lands, and figures hideous as the monsters of the Grecian Archipelago. They watch the ship, which is being carried in a fog amongst the breakers, by a tempest less fearful than themselves. Oh! La Pérouse, La Pérouse, if you could hear me, I would cry to you. You set out, like Columbus, to discover a world; beware of unknown isles!"
He ceased, and an icy shiver ran through the assembly.
"But why did you not warn him?" asked Count Haga, who, in spite of himself, had succumbed to the influence of this extraordinary man.
"Yes," cried Madame Dubarry, "why not send after him and bring him back? The life of a man like La Pérouse is surely worth a courier, my dear marshal."
The marshal rose to ring the bell.
Cagliostro extended his arm to stop him. "Alas!" said he, "All advice would be useless. I can foretell destiny, but I cannot change it. M. de la Pérouse would laugh if he heard my words, as the son of Priam laughed when Cassandra prophesied; and see, you begin to laugh yourself, Count Haga, and laughing is contagious: your companions are catching it. Do not restrain yourselves, gentlemen—I am accustomed to an incredulous audience."
"Oh, we believe," said Madame Dubarry and the Duke de Richelieu; "and I believe," murmured Taverney; "and I also," said Count Haga politely.
"Yes," replied Cagliostro, "you believe, because it concerns La Pérouse; but, if I spoke of yourself, you would not believe."
"I confess that what would have made me believe, would have been, if you had said to him, 'Beware of unknown isles;' then he would, at least, have had the chance of avoiding them."
"I assure you no, count; and, if he had believed me, it would only have been more horrible, for the unfortunate man would have seen himself approaching those isles destined to be fatal to him, without the power to flee from them. Therefore he would have died, not one, but a hundred deaths, for he would have gone through it all by anticipation. Hope, of which I should have deprived him, is what best sustains a man under all trials."
"Yes," said De Condorcet; "the veil which hides from us our future is the only real good which God has vouchsafed to man."
"Nevertheless," said Count Haga, "did a man like you say to me, shun a certain man or a certain thing, I would beware, and I would thank you for the counsel."
Cagliostro shook his head, with a faint smile.
"I mean it, M. de Cagliostro," continued Count Haga; "warn me, and I will thank you."
"You wish me to tell you what I would not tell La Pérouse?"
"Yes, I wish it."
Cagliostro opened his mouth as if to