'Quite so,' said Ambrose politely, when he had done.
'Oh come, we must drink together,' cried the jolly man, 'drink in the best beer in the world to the health of Old England, what?' And he called the waiter, and in another moment he and Ambrose stood clinking glasses and praising each other's countries, while the hilarious family laughed and applauded in the background.
The bishop's wife had not moved. She stood staring out to sea, and her stare grew ever stonier.
'I wish——' she began; but did not go on. Then, there being plainly no means of stopping Ambrose's cordiality, she wisely resolved to pass the time while we waited for him in exchanging luminous thoughts with me. And we did exchange them for some minutes, until my luminousness was clouded and put out by the following short conversation:—
'I must say I cannot see what there is about Germans that so fascinates Ambrose. Do you hear that empty laughter? "The loud laugh that betrays the empty mind"?'
'As Shakespeare says.'
'Dear Frau X., you are so beautifully read.'
'So nice of you.'
'I know you are a woman of a liberal mind, so you will not object to my saying that I am much disappointed in the Germans.'
'Not a bit.'