They went into no society at Paris, and at the end of a week were all glad to leave it.
"I don't know that Baden will be any better," Lady Glencora said; "but, you know, we can leave that again after a bit,—and so we shall go on getting nearer to the Kurds."
To this, Mr. Palliser demurred. "I think we had better make up our mind to stay a month at Baden."
"But why should we make up our minds at all?" his wife pleaded.
"I like to have a plan," said Mr. Palliser.
"And so do I," said his wife,—"if only for the sake of not keeping it."
"There's nothing I hate so much as not carrying out my intentions," said Mr. Palliser.
Upon this, Lady Glencora shrugged her shoulders, and made a mock grimace to her cousin. All this her husband bore for a while meekly, and it must be acknowledged that he behaved very well. But, then, he had his own way in everything. Lady Glencora did not behave very well,—contradicting her husband, and not considering, as, perhaps, she ought to have done, the sacrifice he was making on her behalf. But, then, she had her own way in nothing.
She had her own way in almost nothing; but on one point she did conquer her husband. He was minded to go from Paris back to Cologne, and so down the Rhine to Baden. Lady Glencora declared that she hated the Rhine,—that, of all rivers, it was the most distasteful to her; that, of all scenery, the scenery of the Rhine was the most over-praised; and that she would be wretched all the time if she were carried that way. Upon this, Mr. Palliser referred the matter to Alice; and she, who had last been upon the Rhine with her cousins Kate and George Vavasor, voted for going to Baden by way of Strasbourg.
"We will go by Strasbourg, then," said Mr. Palliser, gallantly.