Fall 2008

Five or six weeks later, she [Madame d'Urfé] asked me if I had deciphered the manuscript which had the transmutation procedure. I told her that I had.

"Without the key, sir, excuse me if I believe the thing impossible."

"Do you wish me to name your key, madame?"

"If you please."

I then told her the key-word, which belongs to no language, and I saw her surprise. She told me that it was impossible, for she believed herself the only possessor of that word which she kept in her memory and which she had never written down.

I could have told her the truth -- that the same calculation which had served me for deciphering the manuscript had enabled me to learn the word -- but on a caprice it struck me to tell her that a genie had revealed it to me. This false disclosure fettered Madame d'Urfé to me. That day I became the master of her soul, and I abused my power. Every time I think of it, I am distressed and ashamed, and I do penance now in the obligation under which I place myself of telling the truth in writing my memoirs.