"Maude," he suddenly exclaimed, "the fountains are to play on Sunday at Versailles. Will you go to see them?" "I am tired of sight-seeing, and tired of Paris too," was Lady Hartledon's answer, spoken with apathy. "Are you?" he returned, with animation, as though not sorry to hear the avowal. "Then we won't stay in Paris any longer. When shall we leave?" "Are the letters not late this morning?" she asked, allowing the question to pass. Lord Hartledon glanced at the clock. "Very late: and we are late also. Are you expecting any in particular?" "I don't know. This chocolate is cold." "That is easily remedied," said he, rising to ring the bell. "They can bring in some fresh." "And keep us waiting half-an-hour!" she grumbled. "The hotel is crammed up to the mansarde," said good-natured Lord Hartledon, who was easily pleased, and rather tolerant of neglect in French hotels. "Is not that the right word, Maude? You took me to task yesterday for saying garret. The servants are run off their legs." "Then the hotel should keep more servants. I am quite sick of having to ring twice. A week ago I wished I was out of the place." "My dear Maude, why did you not say so? If you'd like to go on at once to Germany--" "Lettres et journal pour monsieur," interrupted a waiter, entering with two letters and the _Times_. "One for you, Maude," handing a letter to his wife. "Don't go," he continued to the waiter; "we want some more chocolate; this is cold. Tell him in French, Maude." But Lady Hartledon did not hear; or if she heard, did not heed; she was already absorbed in the contents of her letter. "Ici," said Hartledon, pushing the chocolate-pot towards the man, and rallying the best French he could command, "encore du chocolat. Toute froide, _this_. Et puis depechez vous; il est tarde, et nous avons besoin de sortir." The man was accustomed to the French of Englishmen, and withdrew without moving a muscle of his face. But Lady Hartledon's ears had been set on edge. "_Don't_ attempt French again, Val. They'll understand you if you speak in English." "Did I make any mistake?" he asked good-humouredly. "I could speak French once; but am out of practice. It's the genders bother one." "Fine French it must have been!" thought her ladyship. "Who is your letter from?" "My bankers, I think. About Germany, Maude--would you like to go there?" "Yes. Later. After we have been to London." "To London!" "We will go to London at once, Percival; stay there for the rest of the season, and then--" "My dear," he interrupted, his face overcast, "the season is nearly over. It will be of no use going there now." "Plenty of use. We shall have quite six weeks of it. Don't look cross, Val; I have set my heart upon it." "But have you considered the difficulties? In the first place, we have no house in town; in the second--" "Oh yes we have: a very good house."