No doubt every one has felt the same inexplicable sensation. It is this: you feel, for the space of one or two seconds, that you have positively seen or heard already the things you are seeing or hearing, although you have the absolute certainty that the place you see or the person who speaks has never been seen or heard by you before. The opinion that Madame de Pënâfiel had just expressed on Byron and Scott gave me this strange sensation. It was so like my own that it seemed the echo of my own thoughts. At first I was almost stupefied, but reflecting that, after all, it was but a simple and natural comparison between two minds that were diametrically opposed to one another, I continued calmly, for I was determined not to be influenced by my feelings, although Madame de Pënâfiel had been very eloquent, and really seemed to feel what she said. "No doubt, madame, the genius of Byron is very saddening, and that of Scott very consoling, and one seems very superior to the other; but these despairs and consolations are quite superfluous nowadays, for at the present epoch nobody is distressed or pleased by such trifles." "How is that?" asked she. "It appears, madame, that we no longer live in the age of imaginary joys and misfortune; we have come to the wise conclusion of substituting reality and material comfort for dreamy, foolish ideality and passion; so in all probability we are much nearer happiness than we ever have been before, for there is nothing more difficult, more impossible to realise, than the ideal, while, with a little common sense, every one can arrange for himself a comfortable existence according to his own taste." "Then, monsieur," said Madame de Pënâfiel, with some show of impatience, "you deny the existence of passion? You say that in our day it does not exist?" "I was mistaken, madame, if I said that, for there is still one passion remaining, and only one, and in this one passion all others are concentrated. Its influence is tremendous; it is the only one which, being well managed, carries any weight in society nowadays; it controls our customs so completely that, though we are still a thousand leagues away from the gracious ways of the great period of gallantry and pleasure, the passion that I speak of, madame, is able to change every salon of Paris into a Quaker meeting or an assemblage of American citizens." "How could that be?" said she. "To be brief, madame, would you wish to see the strictest prudery reign in all conversation? Would you wish to hear endless invocations (by unmarried men, you understand) on the sanctity of marriage and the duty of married women? Would you wish to see the Utopia dreamed of by the sternest moralists realised?" "For my part, I should like to see it once, just for a minute or two," said Lord Falmouth, pretending to be alarmed at the idea, "but that would be sufficient; I should utter a protest if it were to last any longer."