"I went everywhere."
"And you saw——?"
"The puppets—yes. It was very amusing—very."
"What amused you most?"
"The pretence at being in earnest, I think. But the machinery was too plain to enjoy it really. They do things better at the theatres. There the players pretend to be puppets, but convince you that they are real. At Westminster, the players pretend they are real, but convince you that they are puppets. After all, your House of Commons did me good."
"How?"
"It gave me a sort of faith in human nature, in the simplicity of the people who send the actors there. It proves that the people of England are more fools than knaves. But it amused me vastly. No, Mr. Briarfield, your Dr. Johnson was right. If one must live in England, I should say London is the best place in the summer; while in the winter there is no place else."
"One wonders, what led you to this out-of-the-way place, then?"
"I wanted to be quiet. London is a maelstrom, from which I got out with difficulty, but I did get out. Then I said, 'Let me be quiet, let me think.' Then I met a man who had been here, and who said it was the most beautiful place in England. Moreover, he told me a romantic story about the lady who reigns here. And we Easterns love romance. So I came. I have not seen the beautiful lady yet. Do you know her?"
"Yes. I know her."