ern stage, comparing an actor-manager to Napoleon, and
commenting on the campaigns of the latter in detail.

Quite heedless of this Mr. Willmott was carrying on an equally
impassioned but much slower monologue on his conception of the character
of Cyrano de Bergerac, which he said he intended to produce. "Cyrano,"
he said, "has been maligned by Coquelin. Coquelin is a great artist,
but he did not understand Cyrano. Cyrano is a dreamer, a poet; he is a
martyr of thought like Tolstoi, a sacrifice to wasted, useless action,
like Hamlet; he is a Moliere come too soon, a Bayard come too late, a
John the Baptist of the stage, calling out in vain in the wilderness--of
bricks and mortar; he is misunderstood;--an enigma, an anachronism, a
premature herald, a false dawn."

Count Sciarra was engaged in a third monologue at the head of the table.
He was talking at the same time to Mrs. Bergmann, Lady Irene, and Lady
Hyacinth about the devil. "Ah que j'aime le diable!" he was saying in
low, tender tones. "The devil who creates your beauty to lure us to
destruction, the devil who puts honey into the voice of the siren, the
dolce sirena--

"Che i marinari in mezzo il mar dismaga"

(and he hummed this line in a sing-song two or three times over)--"the
devil who makes us dream and doubt, and who made life interesting by
persuading Eve to eat the silver apple--what would life have been if
she had not eaten the apple? We should all be in the silly trees of the
Garden of Eden, and I should be sitting next to you" (he said to Mrs.
Bergmann), "without knowing that you were beautiful; que vous etes belle
et que vous etes desirable; que vous etes puissante et caline, que je
fais naufrage dans une mer d'amour--e il naufragio m'e dolce in questo
mare--en un mot, que je vous aime."

"Life outside the garden of Eden has many drawbacks," said Mrs.
Bergmann, who, although she was inwardly pleased by Count Sciarra's
remarks, saw by Lady Irene's expression that she thought he was mad.

"Aucun 'drawback,'" answered Sciarra, "n'egalerait celui de comtempler
les divins contours feminins sans un frisson. Pensez donc si Madame
Bergmann----"

"Count Sciarra," interrupted Mrs. Bergmann, terrified of what was coming
next, "do tell me about the book you are writing on Venice."

Mrs. Lockton was at that moment discussing portraiture in novels with M.
Faubourg, and during a pause Miss Tring was heard to make the following
remark: "And is it true M. Faub