One day at the end of a dinner given to certain intimate friends by Prince Lebrun, the guests, heated by champagne, were discussing the inexhaustible subject of feminine artifice. The recent adventure which was credited to the Countess R. D. S. J. D. A——-, apropos of a necklace, was the subject first broached. A highly esteemed artist, a gifted friend of the emperor, was vigorously maintaining the opinion, which seemed somewhat unmanly, that it was forbidden to a man to resist successfully the webs woven by a woman. “It is my happy experience,” he said, “that to them nothing is sacred.” The ladies protested. “But I can cite an instance in point.” “It is an exception!” “Let us hear the story,” said a young lady. “Yes, tell it to us,” cried all the guests. The prudent old gentleman cast his eyes around, and, after having formed his conclusions as to the age of the ladies, smiled and said: “Since we are all experienced in life, I consent to relate the adventure.” Dead silence followed, and the narrator read the following from a little book which he had taken from his pocket: I was head over ears in love with the Comtesse de ——-. I was twenty and I was ingenuous. She deceived me. I was angry; she threw me over. I was ingenuous, I repeat, and I was grieved to lose her. I was twenty; she forgave me. And as I was twenty, as I was always ingenuous, always deceived, but never again thrown over by her, I believed myself to have been the best beloved of lovers, consequently the happiest of men. The countess had a friend, Madame de T——-, who seemed to have some designs on me, but without compromising her dignity; for she was scrupulous and respected the proprieties. One day while I was waiting for the countess in her Opera box, I heard my name called from a contiguous box. It was Madame de T——-. “What,” she said, “already here? Is this fidelity or merely a want of something to do? Won’t you come to me?” Her voice and her manner had a meaning in them, but I was far from inclined at that moment to indulge in a romance. “Have you any plans for this evening?” she said to me. “Don’t make any! If I cheer your tedious solitude you ought to be devoted to me. Don’t ask any questions, but obey. Call my servants.” I answered with a bow and on being requested to leave the Opera box, I obeyed. “Go to this gentleman’s house,” she said to the lackey. “Say he will not be home till to-morrow.”