I told her of the spirits with whom we held converse.

She would not believe.

Do you remember the evening, Celie, when Mme.

de Castiglione came back an old, old woman, and told us how, when she had grown old and had lost her beauty and was very lonely, she would no longer live in the great house which was so full of torturing memories, but took a small appartement near by, where no one knew her; and how she used to walk out late at night, and watch, with her eyes full of tears, the dark windows which had been once so bright with light?
Adele Rossignol would not believe.

I told her that I had found the story afterwards in a volume of memoirs.