“We arrived at the Opera just as the curtain was about to rise. I shall never forget the performance, so linked is it in memory with that night’s adventure. It was Gluck’s opera of ‘Alceste.’ Boufflers and myself took our places in the parterre, immediately below the loge of the marquise, which was empty, and remained so for some time; and I can assure you that, when, in the midst of one of the most pathetic scenes of the opera, I heard the door of the box open, and a valet-de-chambre announce, as was the usage among the fashionables of the day, ‘Madame la Marquise de Br**,’ we both turned sharply round. She entered, muffled up to the chin, and evidently suffering greatly from her old enemy the migraine, for she held a screen before her eyes to shield them from the glare of light, and bent her head upon her hand as soon as she had taken her seat. “‘Look! she _has_ roses in her hair,’ exclaimed Boufflers, all aghast. “It was true enough the roses were there; and _I_ could see even more, for the eardrops of emerald and topaz caught the light of the girandole in front of her box, and played before my eyes in a most tantalizing manner. Presently the marquise, overcome by the heat, withdrew her cloak and muffles, and stood revealed to us in the full light, exactly as she had been described to us so short a time before. The dress of sea-green Padua silk, looped with roses, seemed completely to choke poor Boufflers, as he stood gazing on her in mute amazement. So far, the wizard had told us truth. Since his day, the same experiment has been repeated, and in thousands of instances has succeeded. You have all, I doubt not, some little story of the kind to tell, much more striking and interesting than mine, but the sequel of my anecdote, I think, may be unique, so completely did the adventure jump from the sublime to the ridiculous at a single bound. “At the conclusion of the piece we both repaired to the box of the Marquise de Br**. She was suffering greatly from her migraine, and greeted me ironically, observing that I was ‘_bien aimable et bien galant_—that she had waited for me to escort her to the Opera, and had been compelled to depart from home alone. After the performance, we all adjourned to her hotel. I had completely reinstated myself in her good graces, by the promise of a complete cure for her migraine. The gentlemen of the company, however, all voted that a glass or two of champagne should be tried first, before the dear marquise was put to pain and torture by any of the diabolical remedies of the sorcerer Cagliostro. The vote was carried, and the marquise compelled to submit to their prescription first, which she did with the greatest grace and good-humour, using every effort to appear gay, although evidently suffering much pain at the very moment.