After some half-jesting observations, expressive of surprise that a young man--and consequently, as she deemed, a gay one--should have selected as his residence an unvisited quarter and a very retired house, she took my arm, and proceeded to the dinner-room. The dinner itself, and the table equipage, were in keeping with the simplicity of the whole establishment; but if the fare was humble and the wine of the very cheapest, all the habitudes of the very highest society presided at the meal, and the polished ease and elegance, so eminently the gift of ancient French manners, were conspicuous. There prevailed among the guests all the intimacy of a large family; at the same time a most courteous deference was remarkable, which never approached familiarity. And thus they talked lightly and pleasantly together of mutual friends and places they had visited; no allusion ever being made to the popular topics of the day,--to me a most inexplicable circumstance, and one which I could not avoid slightly expressing my astonishment at to the lady beside me. She smiled significantly at my remark, and merely said,-- “It is so agreeable to discuss matters where there can be no great difference of opinion,--at least, no more than sharpens the wit of the speakers,--that you will rarely hear other subjects talked of here.” “But have the great events which are yet passing no interest?” “Perhaps they interest too deeply to admit of much discussion,” said she, with some earnestness of manner. “But I am myself transgressing; and, what is still worse, losing you the observations of Monsieur de Saint George on Madame de Sévigné.” The remark was evidently made to change the current of our conversation; and so I accepted it,--listening to the chit-chat around me, which, from its novelty alone, possessed a most uncommon charm to my ears. It was so strange to hear the allusions to the courtiers and the beauties of bygone days made with all the freshness of yesterday acquaintance; and the stores of anecdotes about the court of Louis the Fifteenth and the Regency told with a piquancy that made the event seem like an occurrence of the morning. Before we retired to the drawing-room for coffee, I saw that the “pension” was a Royalist establishment, and wondered how it happened that I should have been selected by the host to make one of his guests. Yet unquestionably there seemed no reserve towards me; on the contrary, each evinced a tone of frankness and cordiality which made me perfectly at ease, and well satisfied at the fortune which led me to the Rue Mi-Carême. The little parties of dominoes and piquet scattered through the _salon_; some formed groups to converse; the ladies resumed their embroidery; and all the occupations of indoor life were assumed with a readiness that betokened habit, and gave to the “pension” the comfortable air of a home.