. And, as the first chords of his overture sounded just
as he was getting into his box, he tumbled into the arms of the
terrified boxkeeper. Then--"

"There, there!" cried Theodore, "that's enough about my opera, and the
execution of it. I shall be very glad to tell you as much as you please
about them any time when we happen to be having a regular talk about
music; but not another word to-night."

"We have said enough, and more than enough," said Lothair, "on this
particular subject, and by way of winding it up, I may just say that
there is a little anecdote of Voltaire which pleases me greatly. Once,
when one of his tragedies--I think it was Zaire--was going to be given
for the first time, he was in such a terror of anxiety about its fate,
that he did not dare to be present himself; but all the way between his
house and the theatre he had people posted to send him messages every
two or three minutes, by a code of signals, bow the piece was going; so
that he was able to suffer all the torments of the Author comfortably,
_en robe de chambre_, in his own room."

"Now," cried Sylvester, "wouldn't that make a capital scene on the
stage? and what a splendid part it would be for a character actor.
Think of Voltaire on the boards. News comes that 'The public is
disturbed, uneasy.' 'Ha!' he cries, 'frivolous race! can any one
awaken your sympathy?' Next comes a message that 'the public is
applauding--shouting in delight.' 'Oh! great, grand, noble Frenchmen,'
he cries, 'you comprehend your Voltaire--you are worthy of him.' 'The
public is hissing, and there are one or two catcalls audible.' 'Ah!
traitors! this to me--to me!'"

"Enough, enough," said Ottmar. "Sylvester is so inspired by his success
that he is favouring us with a scene of a comedy instead of--like a
proper Serapion Brother--reading us a tale, the most interesting
subject of which he told me of, in writing, and which I know he has
finished and brought with him."

"Our having been talking of Voltaire," said Sylvester, "may lead us to
think of his 'Siecle de Louis XIV.,' and of that period itself, in
which I have laid the scenes of the story which I now venture, with all
modesty, to submit, hoping for your favourable opinion."

He read:--

MADEMOISELLE SCUDERI:
A Tale Of The Times Of Louis The Fourteenth.

Magdaleine Scuderi, so famous for her charming poetical and other
writings, lived in a small mansion in the Rue S