SAINT-RÉAULT. (_Bowing_) What a pleasant coincidence, M. le Préfet! PAUL. Especially pleasant for me, M. le Baron! (SAINT-RÉAULT _goes to the table and writes_.) MME. DE CÉRAN. You will find my house a trifle austere for a person of your youth, Madame. You have only your husband to blame for your stay here.—It has its moments of monotony, but you may console yourself with the thought that resignation means obedience, and that in coming here you had no choice. JEANNE. (_Gravely_) As regards that, Mme. la comtesse, “To be free is not to do what one wishes, but what one judges to be best”—as the philosopher Joubert has said. MME. DE CÉRAN. (_Looking approvingly at_ PAUL) That is quite reassuring, my dear. But I think you will find that no matter how intellectual our circle may be, it is not lacking in _esprit_. Indeed this very evening you will find the _soirée_ particularly interesting. Monsieur de Saint-Réault has been kind enough to offer to read to us from his unpublished work on Rama-Ravana and the Sanscrit Legends. PAUL. Really! Oh, Jeanne! JEANNE. How fortunate we are! MME. DE CÉRAN. After which I believe I can promise you something from Monsieur Bellac. JEANNE. The Professor? MME. DE CÉRAN. Do you know him? JEANNE. What woman doesn’t? How delightful that will be! MME. DE CÉRAN. An informal talk—_ad usum mundi_—a few words, gems of wisdom; and finally, the reading of an unpublished play. PAUL. Oh! In verse? MME. DE CÉRAN. The first work of a young man —an unknown poet, who is to be introduced to me this evening and whose play has just been accepted by the Théâtre-Francais. PAUL. How fortunate we are to be able to enjoy among these charming people another of these wonderful opportunities that one finds nowhere except beneath your roof. MME. DE CÉRAN. Doesn’t this literary atmosphere frighten you, Madame? Your charms will be wasted at a _soirée_ like this. JEANNE. (_Seriously_) “What appears a waste to the vulgar is often a gain”—as M. de Tocqueville has said. MME. DE CÉRAN. (_Looking at her in astonishment—aside to_ PAUL) She is charming! (SAINT-RÉAULT _rises, and goes toward the door_) Saint-Réault, where are you going? SAINT-RÉAULT. (_As he goes_) To the station—a telegram. Excuse me—I’ll be back in ten minutes. (_He goes out_) MME. DE CÉRAN. There is certainly something at the bottom of all this! (_She looks among the papers on the table—to_ JEANNE _and_ PAUL) I beg your pardon! (_She rings, and after a moment_ FRANCOIS _appears_) The papers? FRANCOIS. M. de Saint-Réault took them away this morning. They are in his room. PAUL. (_Drawing Le Journal Amusant from his pocket_) If you wish the—— JEANNE. (_Quickly checking him and at the same time producing the Journal des Debats[2] from her pocket and offering it to_ MME. DE CÉRAN) This is to-day’s paper, Countess. [2] The “Journal Amusant” is a comic paper, the “Journal des Debats” a very old and conservative organ.