SAINT-RÉAULT. And make no mistake about it! Profound as these legends may appear because of their baffling exoticism, they are merely—my illustrious father wrote in 1834—elemental, primitive imaginings, in comparison with the transcendental conceptions of Brahmin lore gathered together in the Upanishads, or indeed in the eighteen Paranas of Vyasa, the compiler of the Veda. JEANNE. (_Aside to_ PAUL) Are you asleep? PAUL. No, no—I hear some kind of gibberish. SAINT-RÉAULT. Such, in simple terminology, is the _concretum_ of the doctrine of Buddha.—And at this point I shall close my remarks. (_Murmurs. Some of the audience rise._) SEVERAL VOICES. (_Weakly_) Very good! Good! SAINT-RÉAULT. And now—(_He coughs_) MME. DE CÉRAN. (_Eagerly_) You must be tired, Saint-Réault? SAINT-RÉAULT. Not at all, Countess! MME. ARRIÉGO. Oh, yes, you must be; rest yourself. We can wait. _Several Voices._ You must rest! MME. DE LOUDAN. You can’t always remain in the clouds. Come down to earth, Baron. SAINT-RÉAULT. Thank you, but—well, you see, I had already finished. (_Everybody rises._) SEVERAL VOICES. So interesting!—A little obscure!—Excellent!—Too long! BELLAC. (_To the ladies_) Too materialistic! PAUL. (_To_ JEANNE) He’s bungled it. SUZANNE. (_Calling_) Monsieur Bellac! BELLAC. Mademoiselle? SUZANNE. Come here, near me. (BELLAC _goes to her_.) ROGER. (_Aside to the_ DUCHESS) Aunt! DUCHESS. (_Aside to_ ROGER) She’s doing it on purpose! SAINT-RÉAULT. (_Coming to table_) One word more! (_General surprise. The audience sits down in silence and consternation_) Or, rather a favor!—This study of mine, of which, in spite of the narrow limits and popular character made necessary by my audience—— DUCHESS. He is polite, isn’t he? SAINT-RÉAULT. The importance will perhaps have been realised,—this study, I say, was in 1821, sixty years ago, begun, or—I will go so far as to say, discovered by the genius whose son I have the honor to be—— PAUL. (_To_ JEANNE) He’s standing in a dead man’s shoes!