Cibot used to go to Mme.
Fontaine's house in the Rue Vieille-du-Temple as regularly as
frequenters of the Cafe Anglais drop in at that restaurant for lunch.
Mme. Cibot, being a very old customer, often introduced young persons
and old gossips consumed with curiosity to the wise woman.
The old servant who acted as provost marshal flung open the door of
the sanctuary with no further ceremony than the remark, "It's Mme.
Cibot.--Come in, there's nobody here."
"Well, child, what can bring you here so early of a morning?" asked
the sorceress, as Mme. Fontaine might well be called, for she was
seventy-eight years old, and looked like one of the Parcae.
"Something has given me a turn," said La Cibot; "I want the _grand
jeu_; it is a question of my fortune." Therewith she explained her
position, and wished to know if her sordid hopes were likely to be
realized.
"Do you know what the _grand jeu_ means?" asked Mme. Fontaine, with
much solemnity.
"No, I haven't never seen the trick, I am not rich enough.--A hundred
francs! It's not as if it cost so much! Where was the money to come
from? But now I can't help myself, I must have it."
"I don't do it often, child," returned Mme. Fontaine; "I only do it
for rich people on great occasions, and they pay me twenty-five louis
for doing it; it tires me, you see, it wears me out. The 'Spirit'
rives my inside, here. It is like going to the 'Sabbath,' as they used
to say."
"But when I tell you that it means my whole future, my dear good Ma'am
Fontaine--"
"Well, as it is you that have come to consult me so often, I will
submit myself to the Spirit!" replied Mme.
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