"I forgot to tell you, madame, that the name of the new opera is 'La Norma,'" I hastened to say, addressing Madame de Pënâfiel. "The subject is the love of a priestess of the Gauls." Madame de Pënâfiel immediately took up this theme, and enlarged on it in a very entertaining way, showing what a good subject it was for a drama. She then seized the opportunity of showing her erudition on the religion of the Druids; she talked about the Celtic stones, and I felt sure that, by an easy transition, she would soon arrive quite naturally at the syllabic value of hieroglyphics, and the discussion of which Arthur Young had spoken. It so happened that I chanced to be very much interested in this study, for my father, who was an intimate friend of M. de Guignes, had in his last years been a student of those alphabetical problems. I could have continued the conversation by drawing Madame de Pënâfiel into a discussion, in which she probably would have shone at my expense; but her pretension to being learned shocked me, and I warded off a hieroglyphic attack, which I thought imminent, by declaring my perfect ignorance of the subject, whose aridity I said frightened me. My avowal of ignorance seemed to lift a weight off the minds of the other men present, because they would have been mortified at being left out of such a conversation, which would show an unusual fondness for studies that were quite beyond an ordinary education. I do not know whether Madame de Pënâfiel was provoked at my speech, which had lost her the opportunity of showing her learning, or if she believed my ignorance was affected. She did not pretend to hide a slight movement of annoyance, but, with great tact and infinite skill, she resumed her conversation about the Druids, passing from the Celtic inscriptions to the picturesque costume of the priestesses of the Gauls, their long, clinging robes, and the charming effect of the holly leaves in either blonde or brown hair. She brought down the conversation naturally from the scientific heights on which she at first had started to the vulgar plains of every day costume, and then it became general. I admit that these transitions were skilfully managed by Madame de Pënâfiel, and that any one but a person who was well-read, clever, quick, and used to society, would have failed entirely. I was far from being astonished, for I had not expected to find candour and inexperience, so as I was tired of so much senseless babble, and saw that this was not the opportunity I desired of studying and observing at my ease this person, who was said to be so singular, I rose to go out unperceived, as a new arrival was being announced; but Madame de Pënâfiel, near whom I was seated, said to me as she saw that they were bringing the urn and the waiters into the other little salon: "Monsieur, will you not have a cup of tea?" I bowed and remained.