“And your judgment is correct; the other is a mere compromise to a supposed English taste. A summer day’s dinner is to the full banquet of mid-winter what a light ‘aquarelle’ is to an oil picture. You want grace, delicacy; you require elegance, transparency, softness; not depth, nor force, nor strong effect.” “What Sybarites you must deem us!” said Lady Vyner, laughing. “I am repeating for you to-day a little dinner I once gave the Duchesse de Sagance. She was much admired at the time by the Archduke Charles of Austria; but forgive me if I am talking of forbidden themes.” “Oh, go on, Sir Within! We must implicitly bow to your discretion.” “Ah, if you do that, I am ruined. You silence me at once!” “You surely wouldn’t have us say, ‘Be indiscreet?’” “No; but I’d have you say, ‘Talk to us as if we were all at Vienna, at Milan, or at Naples.’” “Neither my sister nor myself ‘pose’ for prudery, Sir Within; but the world says that you are--what shall I call it?--too--too--do help me to the word.” “How can I, when it is to my own blame? Who ever called on a prisoner to fill up his own indictment?” “What the world means is, perhaps,” broke in Georgina, “that Sir Within occasionally forgets his geography, and fancies at the foot of Snowdon that he is close to Vesuvius.” “I apprehend you,” said he, smiling; “but confess, that dress is not more a question of climate than conversation; both one and the other are lighter in the south of Europe, and what is of more moment, with perfect safety, too; mark that, Mesdames, with perfect safety.” “It may be all very well for you, who are acclimatised, to say so,” said Lady Vyner; “but bear in mind that we only passed one winter at Rome.” “And did you not like it? What a furious cataract of all manner of sensations is a first winter at Rome! Grandeur and littleness, Sublimity and absurdity--the splendid St. Peter’s and the slipshod priesthood--and, more ridiculous than all, our cockney population wandering over the Coliseum and Quirinal, not fully certain that they are getting the real article for their money, or whether Nero and Tiberius are not dear at the price paid for them. I often wish it were right for an ex-Envoy to give his note-book, or some extracts from it, to the world. Impressions of the B. S.--the British Subject, I mean--by a late Foreign Minister.” “Very amusing, doubtless; but very spiteful,” said Miss Courtenay. “Here comes Bernais to announce dinner, and rescue you from my tartness;” and, giving an arm to each of the ladies, he led them forward.