"There are a great many beautiful statues in the Vatican," said Sir Peter

in his dream.

"Oh, no end. And, talking of beautiful statues, we were introduced to the

most beautiful woman in Rome, the Countess--Countess--Countess--Nevill,

what was that woman's name? Oh--I forget her name, but she was the

loveliest woman I ever saw in my life. Everybody was in love with

her--down on their knees groveling, you couldn't help it. Fancy, she

was engaged to ten people at once! I suppose she had ten engagement

rings--one for each finger, one for each man. I should never have known

which was which. But oh! I oughtn't to have told you. My husband said I

wasn't to talk about her. I don't see why--everybody was talking about

her!"

There was a chorus of protestation.

"And why shouldn't they talk about her, and why shouldn't she be engaged

to ten gentlemen at once? The more the merrier."

"And you haven't told us the lady's name, so we're none the wiser."

"I forgot it. But it would have been all the same if I hadn't. I never

can remember not to tell things. Oh--Countess--Poli--Polidori! There--you

see. My husband says I'm the soul of indiscretion."

There was a sudden silence. Mrs. Nevill Tyson's last sentence seemed to

detach itself and float about the room, and Miss Batchelor perceived with

a pang of pleasure that if Tyson's wife was not vulgar she was an arrant

fool.

"I suppose you visited all the great cathedrals?" said the Rector.

Perhaps he wished to change the subject; perhaps he felt that by talking

about cathedrals to Mrs. Nevill Tyson he was giving a serious, not to say

sacerdotal, character to a frivolous occupation.

"Well, only St. Peter's and the one at Milan."

"And which did you prefer! I am told that St. Peter's is very like our

own St. Paul's--or I should say St. Paul's--"

"Oh, please don't ask me! I know no more than the man in the moon--I mean

the man in the honeymoon" (that joke was Tyson's), "and a lot he knows

about it. There's the man in the honeymoon," she explained, nodding

merrily in her husband's direction.

Meanwhile Tyson was making himself agreeable to Miss Batchelor. And this

is how he did it.

"I hear, Miss Batchelor, that you are a lady of genius."

There was a rumor that Miss Batchelor was engaged on a work of fiction,

which indeed may have been true, though not exactly in the sense

intended.

"Indeed; who told you that?"

"Scandal. But I never listen to scandal, and I didn't believe it."

"I don't suppose you believe that a woman could be a genius."

"No? I have seen women who were geniuses, before now; but in every

instance it meant--I shall hurt your feelings if I tell you what it

meant."




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