In the evening at the Opera. ‘Astyanax’ was the opera, and ‘Psyche’ the ballet. All French operas are so like one another that it is only of the decoration that one can speak. The last scene, of Pyrrhus going on board a vessel with Astyanax and Andromache, and sailing away with all his fleet, was very good ; but au reste, it is always the same scrambling and violent exertion of voice, always the same exaggerated action, always a scene which we have called the tearing scene, where, from sorrow, or joy, or fear, or entreaty, ils se jettent l’un sur l’autre, and after half pulling one another to pieces, are always either torn asunder, or go off in one another’s arms. The bodily fatigue of these grand rôles d'opéra is so great that the people must have monstrous strong constitutions, as well as monstrous strong voices, to support them. Mdlle. Maillard, a great fat woman, acted Andromache not without some dignity; but there is no fine female actress at the Opera at present. The ballet of ‘Psyche,’ as they give it here, is a long pantomime, little dancing, but admirable in its way.