r circle, composed entirely of men. She took their arm
unceremoniously, as she spoke to them, with a freedom which she
communicated to them. Her conversation was animated rather than joyous.
It often excited laughter around her; but it was by dint of intellect
that she created gayety (if we may so express it), for her countenance,
impassioned as it was, seemed incapable of bending into a smile, and her
large blue eyes, under her jet-black hair, gave her at first rather a
strange appearance.

Desbarreaux kissed her hand with a gallant and chivalrous air. He then,
talking to her all the time, walked round the large room, where were
assembled nearly thirty persons-some seated in the large arm chairs,
others standing in the vast chimney-place, others conversing in the
embrasures of the windows under the heavy curtains. Some of them were
obscure men, now illustrious; others illustrious men, now obscure for
posterity. Thus, among the latter, he profoundly saluted MM. d'Aubijoux,
de Brion, de Montmort, and other very brilliant gentlemen, who were there
as judges; tenderly, and with an air of esteem, pressed the hands of MM.
Monteruel, de Sirmond, de Malleville, Baro, Gombauld, and other learned
men, almost all called great men in the annals of the Academy of which
they were the founders--itself called sometimes the Academic des Beaux
Esprits, but really the Academic Francaise. But M. Desbarreaux gave but a
mere patronizing nod to young Corneille, who was talking in a corner with
a foreigner, and with a young man whom he presented to the mistress of
the house by the name of M. Poquelin, son of the 'valet-de-chambre
tapissier du roi'. The foreigner was Milton; the young man was Moliere.

Before the reading expected from the young Sybarite, a great contest
arose between him and other poets and prose writers of the time. They
spoke to each other with great volubility and animation a language
incomprehensible to any one who should suddenly have come among them
without being initiated, eagerly pressing each other's hands with
affectionate compliments and infinite allusions to their works.

"Ah, here you are, illustrious Baro!" cried the newcomer. "I have read
your last sixain. Ah, what a sixain! how full of the gallant and the
tendre?"

"What is that you say of the tendre?" interrupted Marion de Lorme; "have
you ever seen that country? You stopped at the village of Grand-Esprit,
and at that of Jolis-Vers, but you have been no far