Anon the Dutch youth, Hans Djoolte, sat up and looked around. All was quiet and apparently everyone was asleep. The conscience of Hans was pricking him--he had said his prayers lying in bed, and that was not the way in which he had been taught to say them by his good Dutch mother, whose very last words, as she died, had been, "Say your prayers each night, my son, wherever you may be."
Hans got out of bed, knelt him down, and said his prayers again. Thenceforward, he always did so as soon as he had undressed, regardless of consequences--which at first were serious. But even the good Luigi Rivoli, in time, grew tired of beating him, particularly when the four English-speaking occupants of the chambrée intimated their united disapproval of Luigi's interference. The most startling novelty, by repetition, becomes the most familiar commonplace, and the day, or rather the night, arrived when Hans Djoolte could pray unmolested.... Occupants of less favoured chambrées came to see the sight. The escouade indeed became rather proud of having two authentic lunatics....
CHAPTER V
THE TRIVIAL ROUND
As he had done almost every night for the last twenty-five years, Sir Montague Merline lay awake for some time, thinking of his wife.
Was she happy? Of course she was. Any woman is happy with the man she really loves.
Did she ever think of him? Of course she did. Any woman thinks, at times, of the man in whose arms she has lain. No doubt his photo stood in a silver frame on her desk or piano. Huntingten would not mind that. Nothing petty about Lord Huntingten--and he had been very fond of "good old Merline," "dear old stick-in-the-mud," as he had so often called him.
Of course she was happy. Why shouldn't she be? Although Huntingten was poor as English peers go, there was enough for decent quiet comfort--and Marguerite had never been keen on making a splash. She had not minded poverty as Lady Merline.... She was certainly as happy as the day was long, and it would have been the damnedest cruelty and caddishness to have turned up and spoilt things. It would have wrecked her life and Huntingten's too....
Splendid chap, Huntingten--so jolly clever and original, so full of ideas and unconventionality.... "How to be Happy though Titled." ... "How to be a Man though a Peer." ... "Efforts for the Effete," and Sir Montague smiled as he thought of the eccentric peer's pleasantries.
Yes, she'd be happy enough with that fine brave big sportsman with his sunny face and merry laugh, his gentle and kindly ways, his love of open-air life, games, sport, and all clean strenuous things. Of course she was happy.... Did she ever think of him? ... Were there any more children? ... (And, as always, at this point, Sir Montague frowned and sighed.)