But the cleverest of all, and he whose opinion is listened to with the greatest respect, is always the dear husband of the lady of the house. Ilse, however, remarked that all the learned gentlemen had not the same amiable character. Some could not bear opposition and seemed in weak moments to consider their own importance more than the advancement of truth. Again, one would only speak and would not listen, and narrowed the conversation by always returning to the point which the others had already surmounted. She discovered that even an unlearned woman could, from the discourse of the wise men, discern something of their character; and when the guests were gone she ventured to express a modest judgment upon the learning and character of individuals, and she was proud when Felix allowed that she had judged rightly. In such conversations the wife of the scholar learned much that to other women remained incomprehensible. Thus, for instance, there were the Roman plebeians. Few women understand what they were. The old plebeians never gave tea-parties, never played on grand pianos, never wore hoop skirts and never read French novels. This class is a very odious institution which has been buried in the ruins of antiquity. But the wife of a philologist is informed concerning all this. It would be impossible to recount all that Ilse heard about plebeians and patricians. Silently she sympathized with the plebeians. She entirely repudiated the idea that they consisted of insignificant people and a wanton rabble, and considered them to be sturdy farmers and fearless politicians who, in unison, valiantly fought against the unjust patricians to the very end. In connection with this she thought of her father, and at times wondered whether some of her acquaintances would not have been plebeians had they been Romans. The gentlemen were very friendly to her and almost all had one quality which made their intercourse very pleasant--they were always willing to explain. At first Ilse did not like to admit that she knew nothing of many subjects; but one evening she seated herself by her husband and began: "I have come to one conclusion. Hitherto I have been afraid to ask questions, not because I was ashamed of my ignorance, why should I be? but on your account, that people might not remark what a silly wife you have. But if you approve of it I will now do quite otherwise, for I observe that they take pleasure in talking and will be willing to favor me with a 'winged word,' as Homer says." "Just so," said the husband; "they will like you the better the more interest you take in them." "I should like to know everything about the whole world, in order to become like you. But I feel that I sadly lack the ability to comprehend it all."