“Is it not often the same thing?”
“Assuredly.”
“The world is only a great puppet-show; one of your playwriters has said as much. We can all see the fun, even though we remain in the crowd. But you English, you set your teeth, you push and fight; you must be in the front, or nothing will content you. You make yourselves sullen in struggling for your pleasures, while every one else is laughing, perhaps at you.”
My lord bowed.
“I think you wrong the one enlightened spot in the kingdom, madam—Whitehall. We must petition his Majesty to order Sir Christopher to build you an academy, where we can institute you a new Hypatia. But I gather that your philosophy would not end in oyster shells. For the rest—I have a favor to ask.”
“I am listening.”
“Suffer me to introduce a very dull virgin into your atmosphere. I want to convert her. She has a conscience.”
Hortense’s eyes met his frankly.
“So have I, my friend.”
“I do not question it. But the child I speak of has not learned to laugh.”