“Oh let little Zai prattle,” Paterfamilias says indulgently. “Delaval must be sick of conventional talk, and her unworldly wisdom must be quite refreshing. Besides, animation becomes her style of beauty.”
“I am sorry if I treated Lord Delaval to a lecture, mamma, it is a great waste of breath I know,” Zai replies wilfully, ignoring her mother’s warning glance, “but he seems to find no subject so interesting as abuse of Mr. Conway.”
“To the best of my knowledge, I did not mention his name even,” Lord Delaval says in a martyr-like tone, “but you always treat me cruelly, Miss Zai. I confess I do not care about actors being dragged into Society as they are. They ought to be kept in their places.”
“There are actors, and actors, I suppose,” Zai says flushing deeply, “and I don’t see that a gentleman is the least bit not a gentleman, no matter what profession he follows.”
“Then you would call a chimney-sweep a gentleman, Zai, if he happened to have been born one,” Lady Beranger asks in a suave voice.
“There is some difference between the calling of a sweep and an actor, mamma. You may all differ with me in my opinion on this subject, but I cannot help holding to my notions, and speaking them out truthfully.”
“Truth is not always to be told, my pet. Whatever the ancients thought on the subject of unerring veracity, it is an exploded error! Nous avons changé tout cela!” Lord Beranger ordains with the air of a modern Lycurgus.
“I shall never consider it an error to speak plain unvarnished truth, papa,” Zai says fearlessly.
“One would think you had been born in Arcadia, and not in Belgravia,” Lady Beranger remarks angrily. “I only hope that Lord Delaval may feel more indulgent towards such bizarre sentiments than I do.”
“Of course Delaval will be indulgent. Did you ever know any young fellow who was not indulgent to a pretty girl’s fads and follies? There are men, and men, as Zai says. You are a peer, Delaval, and Conway is an actor. I have remarked that the feminine element, now-a-days, inclines to a weakness for the stage. Thespian votaries, what with their shows, and their glitter, their stereotyped smiles, their parrot love-making, have a subtle charm,” Lord Beranger suggests, more for an emollient for Lord Delaval’s evidently wounded vanity than for any genuine faith in his own words.