_Mad. de P._--And in what time did you live?

_Tullia._--In the time of Sylla, Pompey, Caesar, Cato, Cataline; and
Cicero, to whom I have the honour of being daughter: of that Cicero, of
whom one of your _protegés_ has made mention in barbarous verse.[3] I
went yesterday to the theatre, where Cataline was represented with all
the celebrated people of my time, but I did not recognise one of them;
and when my father exhorted me to make advances to Cataline, I was
astonished! But, madam, you seem to have some beautiful mirrors; your
chamber is full of them; our mirrors were not a sixteenth part so large
as yours; are they of steel?

_Mad. de P._--No, madam, they are made with sand, and nothing is more
common amongst us.

_Tullia._--What an admirable art! I confess we had none such! And oh!
what a beautiful painting too you have there!

_Mad. de P._--It is not a painting, but a print, done merely with
lamp-black; a hundred copies of the same design may be struck off in a
day, and this secret immortalizes pictures, which time would otherwise
destroy.

_Tullia._--It is indeed an astonishing secret! we Romans had nothing
like it!

_Un Savant._--(A literary man there present, taking up the discourse,
and producing a book from his pocket, says to Tullia:) You will be
astonished, madam, to learn, that this book is not written by hand, but