But the Countess shook her head impatiently, and sprang to her feet.
‘Enough, Professor! I am tired of debates and the battles of phrase. The House may get on without me. And I will inquire no more, even of you, Professor, into the foundations of faith, constitution, and the rest of it. I am brave, when I rise in my place, about the unalterable principles of religious and political economy: brave words do not mean brave heart. Like so many who are outspoken, which I cannot be—at least yet—my faith is sapped, I doubt.’
‘She who doubts,’ said the Professor, ‘is perhaps near the truth.’
‘Nay; for I shall cease to investigate; I shall go down to the country and talk with my tenants.’
‘Do you learn much,’ asked the Professor, ‘of your country tenants?’
The Countess laughed.
‘I teach a great deal, at least,’ she replied. ‘Three times a-week I lecture the women on constitutional law, and twice on the best management of husbands, sons, and farm-labourers, and so forth.’
‘And you are so much occupied in teaching that you never learn? That is a great pity, Constance. Do you observe?’
‘I suppose I do. Why, Professor?’
‘Old habits linger longest in country places. What do you find to remark upon, most of all?’