“He had Gerard,” replied Ursula, simply.
That evening the young Baroness’s “family circle” gathered, as usual, round the shaded lamp. Ursula tried hard to bestow due attention on Tante Louisa’s prattle; the Dowager had sunk to sleep over a bundle of letters which she had been laboriously sorting, first according to their writers, and then, all over again, according to their dates.
The month’s Victory lay spread out before Tante Louisa, who was holding forth in Batavo-Carlylese.
“Napoleon was the world’s ruler by right of power,” said Louisa. “Kings are they who can rule. An hereditary king is a puppet.”
“But the other day you sang the praises of heredity,” suggested Ursula, politely.
“Did I? Well, that also was consistent. We praise things for the good in them; we blame for the bad. There is nothing so consistent as inconsistency.”
A tap at the terrace-window awoke the Dowager. The Dominé stood outside with Josine. Ursula started up in delight, for her father’s visits were of the rarest.
The Freule immediately took possession of the pastor, while Josine considerately settled down by the Dowager to tell her of recent successes gained by Sympathetico in arresting mental decline.