Part 6 (1/2)

”It would he a better place in more ways than one,” he replied.

”And yet you yourself call it a dream,” said Margaret, musing.

”It is only you, Countess, who say that dreams are never realised.”

”And do you expect to realise yours?”

”Yes--I do.” He looked at her with his bold blue eyes, and she thought they sparkled.

”Tell me,” she asked, ”are you going to preach a crusade for the liberation of our s.e.x? Do you mean to bring about the great change in the social relations of the world? Is it you who will build up the pedestal which we are to mount and from which we shall survey countless ranks of adoring men?”

”Do you not see, as you look down on me from your throne, from this chair, that I have begun already?” answered Claudius, smiling, and making a pretence of folding his hands.

”No,” said the Countess, overlooking his last speech; ”if you had any convictions about it, as you pretend to have, you would begin at once and revolutionise the world in six months. What is the use of dreaming?

It is not dreamers who make history.”

”No, it is more often women. But tell me, Countess, do you approve of my crusade? Am I not right? Have I your sanction?”

Margaret was silent. Mr. Barker's voice was heard again, holding forth to Miss Skeat.

”In all ages,” he said, with an air of conviction, ”the aristocracy of a country have been in reality the leaders of its thought and science and enlightenment. Perhaps the form of aristocracy most worthy of admiration is that time-honoured inst.i.tution of pre-eminent families, the Scottish clan, the Hebrew tribe--”

Claudius overheard and opened his eyes. It seemed to him that Barker was talking nonsense. Margaret smiled, for she knew her companion well, and understood in a moment that the American had discovered her hobby, and was either seeking to win her good graces, or endeavouring to amuse himself by inducing her to air her views. But Claudius returned to the charge.

”What is it to be, Countess?” he asked. ”Am I to take up arms and sail out and conquer the universe, and bring it bound to your feet to do you homage; or shall I go back to my turret chamber in Heidelberg?”

”Your simile seems to me to be appropriate,” said Margaret. ”I am sure your forefathers must have been Vikings.”

”They were,” replied Claudius, ”for I am a Scandinavian. Shall I go out and plunder the world for your benefit? Shall I make your universality, your general expression, woman, sovereign over my general expression, man?”

”Considering who is to be the gainer,” she answered, laughing, ”I cannot well withhold my consent. When will you begin?”

”Now.”

”And how?”

”How should I begin,” said he, a smile on his face, and the light dancing in his eyes, ”except by making myself the first convert?”

Margaret was used enough to pretty speeches, in earnest and in jest, but she thought she had never heard any one turn them more readily than the yellow-bearded student.

”And Mr. Barker,” she asked, ”will you convert him?”

”Can you look at him at this moment, Countess, and say you really think he needs it?”

She glanced at the pair on the bench, and laughed again, in the air, for it was apparent that Mr. Barker had made a complete conquest of Miss Skeat. He had led the conversation about tribes to the ancient practices of the North American Indians, and was detailing their customs with marvellous fluency. A scientific hearer might have detected some startling inaccuracies, but Miss Skeat listened with rapt attention.

Who, indeed, should know more about Indians than a born American who had travelled in the West?

The Countess turned the conversation to other subjects, and talked intelligently about books. She evidently read a great deal, or rather she allowed Miss Skeat to read to her, and her memory was good. Claudius was not behind in sober criticism of current literature, though his reading had been chiefly of a tougher kind. Time flew by quickly, and when the two men rose to go their visit had lasted two hours.

”You will report the progress of your conquest?” said the Countess to Claudius as she gave him her hand, which he stooped to kiss in the good old German fas.h.i.+on.