‘Of course not. My idea of Switzerland was a succession of mountain ledges, varied by an occasional plank across a torrent. Imagine my revulsion of feeling at finding a big businesslike town, with omnibuses, and cafés, and manufactories, and everything that is commonplace and despicable.’ ‘But, surely, I think you must have known that Geneva was a town,’ faltered Edgar, grieved at his dear one’s ignorance, and glad to think his mother was not by to compare this foolishness with her own precise geographical knowledge, acquired thirty years ago at Miss Tompion’s, and carefully harvested in the store-house of a methodical mind. ‘Well, perhaps I may have expected something in the way of a city; a semi-circle of white peaky houses on the margin of the lake; a mediæval watch-tower or two; a Gothic gateway, the very gate that was shut against Rousseau, don’t you know; and Mont Blanc in full view.’ ‘I call it a very fine town,’ said Edgar, venturing to disagree with his beloved. ‘I wish it did not swarm so with English and Americans. I have heard nothing but my own tongue since I came out,’ protested Daphne. She was better pleased presently when they mounted a narrow street on the side of a breakneck hill. She was tolerably satisfied with the cathedral, where the tomb of the great Protestant leader Henri de Rohan took her fancy by its massive grandeur, couchant lions at its base, the soldier in his armour above. She was interested in the pulpit from which Calvin and Theodore de Bèze preached the Reformed Faith, and was somewhat disgusted with her companion for his utter ignorance of the historic past, save inasmuch as it was feebly reflected in the most limited and conventional course of instruction. ‘What did you learn at Rugby?’ she asked impatiently. ‘You don’t seem to know anything.’ ‘We didn’t give much time to history, except Livy and Xenophon,’ answered Edgar, feebly apologetic. ‘And therefore you are not a bit of use as a cicerone. You really ought to subscribe to Mudie and read a lot of instructive books. There’s no good in reading old histories; people are always discovering letters and archives that put the whole story of the past in a new light. You must get your history hot from the press.’ ‘I would rather take my information at second-hand from you, dear,’ answered Edgar meekly. ‘It seems natural to women to read a great deal, and to find almost a second life in books, but men——’ ‘Are so shamefully lazy that their capacity for taking in knowledge is exhausted by the time they have skimmed the daily papers,’ answered Daphne. ‘And now, please, take me to the museums Mr. Goring told you about.’