Awakening from his reverie he drew his chair closer to Arthur's, and, with a certain parade of interest, asked him if he had been to the Academy. 'Did you see anything, Arthur, that in design approached your picture of _Julius Cæsar Overturning the Altars of the Druids_?' 'There were some beautiful bits of painting there,' replied Arthur, whose modesty forbade him to answer the question directly. 'I saw some lovely landscapes, and there were some babies' frocks,' he added satirically. 'In one of these pictures I saw a rattle painted to perfection.' 'Ah, yes, yes! You don't like the pettiness of family feeling dragged into art; but if you only condescend to take a little more notice of the craft--the craft is, after all--' 'I am carried along too rapidly by my feelings. I feel that I must get my idea on canvas. But when I was in London I saw such a lovely woman--one of the most exquisite creatures possible to imagine! Oh, so sweet, and so feminine! I have it all in my head. I shall do something like her to-morrow.' Here he began to sketch with his stick in the dust, and from his face it might be judged he was satisfied with the invisible result. At last he said: 'You needn't say anything about it, but she sent me some songs, with accompaniments written for the guitar. You shall hear some of the songs to-night. . . . Ah, there is the dinner-bell!' Olive was placed next to Milord, and the compliments paid to her by the old courtier delighted her. She pretended to understand when he said: '_La femme est comme une ombre: si vous la suives, elle vous fuit; si vous fuyez, elle vous poursuit_.' A little later the champagne she had drunk set her laughing hysterically, and she begged him to translate (he had just whispered to her mother, '_L'amour est la conscience du plaisir donné et reçu, la certitude de donner et de recevoir_'); and he would have complied with her request, but Mrs. Barton forbade him. Alice, who had understood, found herself obliged to say that she had not understood, which little fib begot a little annoyance in her against her mother; and Milord, as if he thought that he had been guilty of a slight indiscretion, said, addressing himself to both girls: '_Gardez bien vos illusions, mon enfant, car les illusions sont le miroir de l'amour.'_ 'Ah! _mais il ne faut pas couvrir trop l'abîme avec des fleurs_,' said Mrs. Barton, as a sailor from his point of vantage might cry, 'Rocks ahead!' Arthur only joined occasionally in the conversation; he gazed long and ardently on his daughter, and then sketched with his thumb-nail on the cloth, and when they arose from the table, Mrs. Barton said: 'Now, now, I am not going to allow you gentlemen to spend any more time over your wine. This is our first evening together; come into the drawing-room with us, and we shall have some music.'