of the penalties of civilization," replied de Musset, with a
shrug. "Besides, one would not wish to be an epicure."

Dalrymple, who had been listening somewhat disdainfully to this skirmish
of words, here touched me on the arm and turned away.

"Don't you hate this sort of high-pressure talk?" he said, impatiently.

"I was just thinking it so brilliant."

"Pshaw!--conversational fireworks--every speaker bent on eclipsing every
other speaker. It's an artificial atmosphere, my dear Damon--a sort of
forcing-house for good things; and I hate forced witticisms, as I hate
forced peas. But have you had enough of it? Or has this feast of reason
taken away your appetite for simpler fare?"

"If you mean, am I ready to go with you to Madame de Courcelles'--yes."

"_A la bonne heure_!"

"But you are not going away without taking leave of Madame Rachel?"

"Unquestionably. Leave-taking is a custom more honored in the breach
than the observance."

"But isn't that very impolite?"

"_Ingenu!_ Do you know that society ignores everything disagreeable? A
leave-taker sets an unpleasant example, disturbs the harmony of things,
and reminds others of their watches. Besides, he suggests unwelcome
possibilities. Perhaps he finds the party dull; or, worse still, he may
be going to one that is pleasanter."

By this time we were again rattling along the Boulevard. The theatres
were ablaze with lights. The road was full of carriages. The _trottoir_
was almost as populous as at noon. The idlers outside the _cafes_ were
still eating their ices and sipping their _eau-sucre_ as though, instead
of being past eleven at night, it was scarcely eleven in the morning. In
a few minutes, we had once more turned aside out of the great
thoroughfare, and stopped at a private house in a quiet street. A
carriage driving off, a cab drawing up behind our own, open windows with
drawn blinds, upon which were profiled passing shadows of the guests
within, and the ringing tones of a soprano voice, accompanied by a
piano, gave sufficient indication of a party, and had served to attract
a little crowd of soldiers and _gamins_ about the doorway.

Having left our over-coats with a servant, we were ushered upstairs,
and, as the song was not yet ended, slipped in unannounced and stationed
ourselves just between two crowded drawing-rooms, where, sheltered by
the folds of a muslin curtain, we could see all that was going on in
both. I observed, at a glance, that I w