Papa, mama, Monsieur d'Aube, Mademoiselle Espalier and even old Madame d'Aube, who is as deaf as a post, listened with open mouths, and Madame Salandier whispered in my ear: "Listen to him. Not a minister is there that knows as much about it as he does--" I looked at Monsieur de Nivert. He met my glance with one of discreet irony, and immediately we felt like comrades, two exiles from the same country who had fallen among barbarians. Monsieur de Nivert is not handsome, but it is astonishing what an immense advantage he has gained over his rival by simply not saying a word about the public debt. In pouring me a glass of wine he paid me a neat compliment upon my toilet, saying that there was something truly elegant and uncommon about it. And then he began to talk of dress in a low tone, while "my own" continued his harangue for the benefit of papa and mama, who do not know how to add up the household accounts, and of Monsieur d'Aube, who is an old imbecile, and of Madame d'Aube, who is deaf. The handsome judge, however, is not stupid if he is pedantic. In a few moments he saw that he was boring us. "This conversation," said he, "must be quite tiresome to Mademoiselle." "Oh, no," I replied artlessly; "I was not listening." And I had the joy of seeing a look of dismay spread over the countenances of my parents and the good Espalier, while Madame Salandier glared at me like a bonze who has just seen a street arab of Paris make a face at his Buddha. Monsieur de Nivert smiled. A little piqued, I think, "my own" replied: "Indeed, such a conversation is beyond the depths of the young girls of our continent. In America they willingly take part in such discussions. Is there not some State in the North where women have the right to vote?" "Do you hear, Juliette?" said mama. Did I hear? I think I did! He wearied me, this economist bent on matrimony, and I let him see it very plainly. I took up the accusation of frivolity implied in his sentence, but I took it up as a banner. Proudly I declared my right--the right of a pretty woman to be ignorant, frivolous, and whimsical. I argued the advantages of frivolity over seriousness, and of spirit and dash over dignity. Oh, papa's expression and that of the two relics of the Empire and the mother of "my own"! "My own" seemed perfectly amazed at discovering a young girl capable of giving him a retort that took the wind out of his sails. Nivert alone encouraged me with smiles and whispered bravos. The dinner ended in confusion. In the drawing-room, in order to serve the coffee, I became a very proper young lady again; but the company had not regained its wonted composure. Madame Salandier could find nothing better to say than to ask: "Isn't Mademoiselle Juliette going to play something for us?" "Certainly," said mama. "Ah," thought I, "you wish some music; well, then, you shall have it. Wait a moment."