"Not yet—but it may become so. The Germans are nearer than any one allows himself to suppose."
I saw that she did not believe me. Madame de Clericy was not very learned, and it is probable that her history was all forgotten. Paris had always seemed to her the centre of civilisation and safely withdrawn from the perils of war or internal disorder.
I begged her to leave the capital, and painted in lurid colours the possible effects of further defeat and the resulting fall of the French Empire.
"See," I said, opening the drawer of my writing table, "I have the money here. All is prepared, and in England I have arranged for your reception at a house which, if it is not palatial, will at all events be comfortable."
"Where is the house?"
"At a place called Hopton, on the border of Suffolk and Norfolk. It stands empty and quite ready for your reception. The servants are there."
"And the rent?" said she, without looking at me. "Is that within our means?"
"The rent will be almost nominal," I replied. "That can be arranged without difficulty. Many of our English country houses are now neglected. It is the fashion for our women, Madame, to despise a country life. They prefer to wear out themselves and their best attributes on the pavement."
Madame smiled.
"Everything is so strong about you," she said; "especially your prejudices. And this house to which we are to be sent—is it large? Is it well situated? May one inquire?"