"Submit! Why it's perfectly obvious to every one that it's simply human—besides being very convenient practically. Of course in Germany they still go in for what they call Liberty; and the result is simple chaos."
"Do you mean to say there's no envy or jealousy between the trades?"
"Not in the social sense, in the very least, though there's tremendous competition. Why, every one under Royalty has to be a member of some trade. Of course only those who practise the trade wear the full costume; but even the dukes have to wear the badges. It's perfectly simple, you know."
"Tell me an English duke who's a butcher,"
"Butcher? . . . I can't think of one this minute. Southminster's a baker, though."
Monsignor was silent. But it certainly seemed simple.
They were passing up now between the sentry-guarded gates of the enormous and exquisite palace of Versailles; and, beyond the great expanse of gravel on which they had just set foot, rose up the myriad windows, pinnacles, and walls where the Kings of France lived again as they had lived two hundred years before. Far up, against the tender summer sky, flapped the Royal Standard; and the lilies of France, once more on their blue ground, indicated that the King was in residence. Even as they looked, however, the banner seemed to waver a little; and simultaneously a sudden ringing sound from a shadowed portico a couple of hundred yards away brought Father Jervis to a sudden stop.
"We'd better step aside," he said. "We're right in the way."
"What's the matter?"
"Some one's coming out. . . . Look."