From the restaurant to the theatre, is, in Paris, a most natural transition; and the play and players of the day will be found far more closely representative of the social tone, the political creed, the artistic tastes of the hour, than elsewhere.  The drama, for instance, in vogue not long since at the Vaudeville Theatre in the Place de la Bourse, is one we can scarcely imagine successful in another city, at least to such a degree.  It was Les Filles de Marbre; and this is the plot.  The opening scene is at Athens, in the studio of Phidias.  It is the day after that on which Alcibiades cut off his dog’s tail; and, exulting in the effect produced by that exploit, he enters with the rich Gorgias, who has ordered and paid Phidias in advance for statues of his three friends, Lais, Phryne, and Aspasia.  He finds Phidias unwilling to part with the statues, on which he has worked so long and ardently till, like Pygmalion of old, he has fallen in love with his own creation; he will not even allow Gorgias to see them, and the latter departs swearing vengeance.  Diogenes enters, and a satirical brisk dialogue ensues, at the end of which Phidias draws aside a curtain and shows his work to Diogenes, who, stoic as he is, can not refrain from an exclamation of delight.  The group is admirably arranged on the stage, and the effect is very fine as Theae, a young slave, holds back the drapery from the group while the moon illumines it with a soft light.  At this moment an approaching tumult is heard.  Theae drops the curtain, and Gorgias with his friends, heated with Cyprus wine, enters, accompanied by the ‘myrmidons of the law.’  He again demands the statues, for which Phidias has already received his gold.  Phidias expostulates, then entreats,—­no, Gorgias will have his statues.  At this, Theae, who had long loved Phidias, unknown to him, hardly noticed, never requited, throws herself at Gorgias’s feet and cries, ’Take me, sell me; I am young and strong, but leave Phidias his statues.’  Gorgias says, ’Who are you?  Poor creature, you are not worth over fifty drachmas!  Away!  Guards, do your duty!  Slaves, seize the statues.’  Then Diogenes, hitherto half asleep on a mat in the corner, cries, ’Stop, Gorgias!  You always profess justice, strict justice.  Why don’t you ask with whom of you the statues will prefer to stay?’ A shout of laughter from his jolly companions makes Gorgias accede to this droll proposal.  ‘So be it!’ cries he; and Diogenes draws aside the curtain, and holds up his lantern, which, with a strong French reflector, throws a powerful light on the upper part of the group, with a fine and startling effect.  The group represents Aspasia seated, with a scroll and stylus, Lais leaning over her, and Phryne at her feet looking up, all draped, artistically posed, and the three beautiful girls that perform the parts look as like marble as possible.

‘Now, Phidias,’ cries Diogenes, ’come, what have you to say to your marble girls?’