‘It is the fashion to say so, but I am not sure. Have we decayed? and, if we have, from what? The last century contained nothing noble.’
‘Even the burning of Moscow belongs to this,’ said Othmar, with a bow to Napraxine, whose grandfather had been one of the foremost generals at the defence of Moscow, and one of the chief counsellors of that heroic sacrifice.
‘Othmar always remembers what is fine in history and in his friends,’ said the Prince, well pleased. ‘He is not like Nadine there.’
‘No, indeed,’ said Lady Brancepeth; ‘she always likes to see that a great man is a little one somewhere; she will always find out the speck on the handsome rosy apple, the yellow stain on the ivory, the rift in the lute—that is her way. She would never have admired Dr. Johnson, she would have only laughed at his uncouthness and his dishes of tea, and only seen that he touched all the posts in the streets.’
‘I cannot help it if I am observant, and Dr. Johnson certainly would have bored me,’ said the Princess.
‘Les délicats sont malheureux:
Rien ne saurait les satisfaire,’
quoted Othmar.
‘Then you and I are both profoundly miserable,’ said Nadine Napraxine. ‘I believe we have never found anything that satisfied either of us.’
‘Except, perhaps, each other,’ muttered Geraldine, in a smothered voice, his jealousy conquering his prudence. It was a phrase which no one heard except his hostess, who was as quick at hearing as Fine Ears. She did not deign to take any notice of it; it could be punished at her leisure.