“Surely, Mr Muniment. Don’t you?”
“God forbid! I hope to have as little of it as possible.”
“Of course one doesn’t want any vague rodomontade; one wants to do something. But it would be hard if one couldn’t have a little pleasure by the way.”
“My pleasure is in quietness,” said Paul Muniment, smiling.
“So is mine. But it depends on how you understand it. Quietness, I mean, in the midst of a tumult.”
“You have rare ideas about tumults. They are not good in themselves.”
The Princess considered this a moment; then she remarked, “I wonder if you are too prudent. I shouldn’t like that. If it is made an accusation against you that you have been—where we are going—shall you deny it?”
“With that prospect it would be simpler not to go at all, wouldn’t it?” Muniment inquired.
“Which prospect do you mean? That of being found out, or that of having to lie?”
“I suppose that if you lie you are not found out,” Muniment replied, humorously.