or perhaps the same little girl — wrote to him in Cordova,，
"I know it," I said. "All the children in Varenne play it, and there is not a lass but believes in the decree of fate that it revels. Would you like me to read your thoughts as you pull out these petals four by four?"
"Come, then, O mighty magician!"
"A little, that is how some one loves you; much, that is how you love him; passionately, that is how another loves you; not at all, thus do you love this other."
"And might I inquire, Sir Oracle," replied Edmee, whose face became more serious, "who some one and another may be? I suspect that you are like the Pythonesses of old; you do not know the meaning of your auguries yourself."
"Could you not guess mine, Edmee?"
"I will try to interpret the riddle, if you will promise that afterward you will do what the Sphinx did when vanquished by OEdipus."
"Oh, Edmee," I cried; "think how long I have been running my head against walls on account of you and your interpretations. And yet you have not guessed right a single time."
"Oh, good heavens! I have," she said, throwing the bouquet on to the mantel-piece. "You shall see. I love M. de la Marche a little, and I love you much. He loves me passionately, and you love me not at all. That is the truth."
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