Le Sylphe ou, Songe de Mme de R***, écrit par elle-même à Mme de S*** by Crébillon

In a light‑filled Parisian salon the narrator confides her restless spirit to a close friend, lamenting the endless chatter, fleeting fashions and the hollow comforts of courtly life. She longs for something beyond the city's clamor—a glimpse of the ethereal sylphs that ancient poets praised. When a quiet night finds her alone with a modest book of moral sayings, a faint, mysterious voice breaks the silence, stirring a mixture of fear and fascination.

The sudden encounter pulls her into a vivid reverie where the boundary between imagination and reality blurs. She is drawn into a dialogue with an unseen presence that promises a different kind of fulfillment, one rooted in the delicate whisper of the wind rather than the noisy bustle of society. The opening scenes set a tone of gentle curiosity, inviting listeners to wander through the protagonist’s inner world as she balances propriety with a yearning for the sublime.