England seems bent on seeing the whole world as dull
as itself, and dull in the same way. So this second party is, in some
French houses, a happy protest on the part of the old spirit of our
light-hearted people. Only, unfortunately, so few houses protest; and
the reason is a simple one. If we no longer have many suppers nowadays,
it is because never, under any rule, have there been fewer men placed,
established, and successful than under the reign of Louis Philippe, when
the Revolution began again, lawfully. Everybody is on the march some
whither, or trotting at the heels of Fortune. Time has become the
costliest commodity, so no one can afford the lavish extravagance of
going home to-morrow morning and getting up late. Hence, there is no
second soiree now but at the houses of women rich enough to entertain,
and since July 1830 such women may be counted in Paris.

In spite of the covert opposition of the Faubourg Saint-Germain, two or
three women, among them Madame d'Espard and Mademoiselle des Touches,
have not chosen to give up the share of influence they exercised in
Paris, and have not closed their houses.

The salon of Mademoiselle des Touches is noted in Paris as being the
last refuge where the old French wit has found a home, with its reserved
depths, its myriad subtle byways, and its exquisite politeness. You will
there still find grace of manner notwithstanding the conventionalities
of courtesy, perfect freedom of talk notwithstanding the reserve which
is natural to persons of breeding, and, above all, a liberal flow of
ideas. No one there thinks of keeping his thought for a play; and no one
regards a story as material for a book. In short, the hideous skeleton
of literature at bay never stalks there, on the prowl for a clever sally
or an interesting subject.

The memory of one of these evenings especially dwells with me, less by
reason of a confidence in which the illustrious de Marsay opened up
one of the deepest recesses of woman's heart, than on account of the
reflections to which his narrative gave rise, as to the changes that
have taken place in the French woman since the fateful revolution of
July.

On that evening chance had brought together several persons, whose
indisputable merits have won them European reputations. This is not
a piece of flattery addressed to France, for there were a good many
foreigners present. And, indeed, the men who most shone were not the
most famous. Ingenious repartee,