Maud broke her long, ruminative silence by announcing that she would have her rest as usual, and very likely take her book up with her. Still cherishing the fancy that the life of the Empress would make a good play, she said that of course it would be rather difficult to stage that erratic lady's travels. "But I daresay you could get over that," she told Roydon kindly.
"Willoughby doesn't write that sort of play," said Paula.
"Well, dear, I just thought it might be interesting," Maud replied. "Such a romantic life!"
Nathaniel, perceiving from the expressions of weary boredom on the faces of his guests, that the Life of the Empress Elizabeth was not a popular subject, at once, and with ill-disguised malignity, affected a keen interest in it. So everyone, except Stephen, who lounged out of the room, had to hear again about the length of the Empress's hair, the circus-horses, and the jealousy of the Archduchess.
"Who would have thought," murmured Mathilda in Mottisfont's ear, "that we undistinguished commoners should be haunted by an Empress?"
He gave her a quick, perfunctory smile, but said nothing.
"Who cares about Elizabeth of Austria, anyway?" asked Paula impatiently.
"It's history, dear," explained Maud.
"Well, I hate history. I live in the present."
"Talking of the present," struck in Joseph, "who is going to help Tilda and me to finish the tree?"