“I suppose you mean the Goths and Vandals,” replied Louisa, very busy with her meal, which she always treated seriously. “Well, the Goths and Vandals were a strong new element; they were just what an effete society wanted. The great misfortune of our modern civilization is that all the Goths and Vandals have been used up.”
“Invasion of the Goths and Vandals,” repeated the Dowager. “But I don’t mind. All I ask is to be allowed to finish my ‘Memoir.’ Then I shall go and sleep with Theodore and the children. You won’t put me in the big vault, will you, Ursula? Do the graves belong to Ursula, too?”
“No, no,” said Ursula, hastily.
“Who did you say was coming to stay here?”
“Theodore van Helmont, mamma, from Bois-le-Duc.”
“Theodore,” repeated the Dowager, reflectively. “That was Henry’s son. I’m glad he’s coming. He will be able to tell me in what year his father made that ridiculous marriage—the first mésalliance in the Helmont family.”
“I could have told you that,” declared Louisa, brightly. “’54 or ’55.”
“I want to be exact,” replied the Dowager, in her uncertain drawl. “I’ve got it somewhere among my documents, but I couldn’t find it again.”
Two days passed without any answer. Ursula’s heart burned within her: at the thought of this neglect she turned suddenly hot and cold. In her quietly imperious necessity she had never doubted but that her summons would be obeyed.