Her voice had grown
hard and expressionless again.
Sylvia smiled a little satiric smile.
"But though you are a foreigner," cried the fortune-teller with sudden
energy, "it is quite possible that you will never go back to your own
country! Stop--or, perhaps, I shall say too much! Still if you ever do go
back, it will be as a stranger. That I say with certainty. And I add that
I hope with all my heart that you will live to go back to your own
country, Madame!"
Sylvia felt a vague, uneasy feeling of oppression, almost of fear, steal
over her. It seemed to her that Madame Cagliostra was looking at her with
puzzled, pitying eyes.
The soothsayer again put a fat and not too clean finger down on the
upturned face of a card.
"There is something here I do not understand; something which I miss when
I look at you as I am now looking at you. It is something you always
wear--"
She gazed searchingly at Sylvia, and her eyes travelled over Mrs.
Bailey's neck and bosom.
"I see them and yet they are not there! They appear like little balls of
light. Surely it is a necklace?"
Sylvia looked extremely surprised.
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