“Ah, there’s no place like home,” sighed the Honorable Mrs. Dengelton sentimentally.
“If by home you mean England, I am very glad of it,” retorted the Count audaciously; “I would rather live in exile in Greece. But come, I will say no more evil things about your beloved island of fogs.”
“If you do, I will sing ‘Rule Britannia,’” said Maurice, laughing.
“What is that?”
“Our national song. Do you know any national songs of your country.”[country.”]
Caliphronas smiled with an expression of supreme indifference.
“No; I know nothing of patriotism. I have never given it a thought. All my songs are of love and wine.”
“Oh!” said Mrs. Dengelton in a shocked tone; “really, Count, you say the most dreadful things!”
“Other times other manners,” observed the Rector humorously. “Horace, for instance, said things which would shock you, my dear Mrs. Dengelton.”
“I’ve no doubt about it,” retorted the lady viciously; “but, thank heaven, I do not know Latin.”