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There is no such thing as art in England." "Shall we talk of the last new novel?" said Madame Valtesi. "Unfortunately I have not read it. I am told it is full of improper epigrams, and has not the vestige of a plot. So like life!" "Some one said to me the other day that life was like a French farce," said Mrs. Windsor "so full of surprises."
You will not care to be rustic without any men, will you, Madame Valtesi?" she added. "No," replied that lady. "It would be too much like having a bath in Tidman's salt, instead of in the ocean. It would be tame. We three women in this cottage together should be like the Graiæ, only we should not have even one eye and one tooth between us. Perhaps we have been rustic as long as is good for us.
"Herkomer has become intentional, and so he has taken to painting the directors of railway companies. The great picture of this year's exhibition is intentional. The great picture of the year always is. It presents to us a pretty milkmaid milking her cow. A gallant, riding by, has dismounted, and is kissing the milkmaid." Madame Valtesi blinked at him for a moment in silence.
Yes, decidedly, it was Sunday afternoon! The weather was very hot and languid, and the bees kept on buzzing all the time. Bung was engaged in investigating the coal-hole, apparently under the impression that hidden treasure was not foreign to its soil; and conversation entirely languished. Madame Valtesi dropped her stitches, Lord Reggie failed to kill his flies, and Mr.
Gladstone is found to have been born in several places at the same time as if he would be born at different times! and M. Zola turns out to be crazily respectable. When is the world not surprised?" "Virtue in any form astonishes the world," Madame Valtesi said. "I once did a good action. When I was very young I married the only man who did not love me. I thought he ought to be converted.
Lord Reginald Hastings and Mr. Amarinth are both coming, and Mr. Tyler. My cousin and I complete the sextet. Oh! I had forgotten Tommy. But he does not count, not as a wit, I mean. He is my cousin's little boy. He is to play about with the curate's children. That will be so elevating for him." "Delightful," said Madame Valtesi, with a face of stone. "No tea, thank you. I only stopped to tell you.
But it is my own adaptation, and I am too modest to put my name on a programme. Ah! Madame Valtesi, why have I never set the world in a blaze? I have plied the bellows most industriously, and I have made the twigs crackle, yet the fire splutters a good deal. Perhaps I have too much genius. Can it be that? My good things are in everybody's mouth." "That's just it.
We might as well return to the myths of Darwin, or to the delicious fantasies of John Stuart Mill. They at least were entertaining, and no one attempted to believe in them." "We always return to our first hates," said Lord Reggie, rather languidly. "Do have some more tea, Madame Valtesi," pleaded Mrs. Windsor. "No, thank you.
Let me introduce my cousin, Lady Locke Madame Valtesi." The thin lady bowed peeringly. She seemed very blind indeed. Then she said, in a voice perhaps twenty years older than her middle-aged face, "How do you do? Yes, I will play the hermit with pleasure. I came to say so. You go down next Tuesday, or is it Wednesday?" "On Wednesday. We shall be a charming little party, and so witty.
They sat opposite to each other upon two low seats, and Lady Locke drove sideways. As they jogged along down the dusty country road, between the sweet smelling flowery banks, Madame Valtesi said "Do governesses always drive in tubs? Is it part of the system?"
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