"Of course. Well, I will not have a party, only some one to talk to—your husband. The ancestors won't interest him, probably."
"Oh! Do ask Lady Tilchester," I said. "I love her."
He bent down suddenly to look at the Dresden clock.
"No, I don't think so. She will be entertaining herself just then," he said, "and probably could not get away. But leave it to me, I promise to arrange that Augustus shall not be bored."
He picked up La Rochefoucauld and opened it.
"I see you have marked some of the maximes."
"No. Grandmamma and the Marquis must have done that. Look, they are all of the most witty and cynical that are pencilled. I can hear them talking when I read them. That is just how they spoke to one another."
He read aloud:
"'C'est une grande folie de vouloir être sage tout seul!' Don't be 'sage tout seul,' Comtesse. Let me keep you company in your sagesse," he said.
I looked up at him. His eyes were full of a quizzical smile. There is something in the way his head is set, a distinction, an air of command. It infinitely pleases me. I felt—I know not what!